Chapter XIV: Part 14

A great deal has been written, to show that the literary business is a very disagreeable business; and that branch of it coming under the "Editorial" head is about as comfortable as the bed of Procustes would be to an invalid. It may doubtless look and sound well, to see one's name in print, going the rounds, especially at the head of the editorial columns, from ten to fifty thousand eyes and tongues scanning and pronouncing it every day, or week--hundreds and thousands of the fair sex wondering whether he is a young or an old man, a married man or a bachelor; while the pious and devout are contemplating the serious of his emanations, and conjecturing whether he be a Methodist, Puseyite, or Catholic, a Presbyterian, Unitarian or Baptist; and the politicians scanning his views, to discover whether he _leans_ toward the _Locofocos, Free-Soilers, or Whigs_--all being necessarily much mystified, inasmuch as the neutral writer, or editor, is obliged to study, and most vigilantly to act, the part of a cunning diplomatist--stroke every body's hair with the _grain!_

The Tribulations of Incivility.

"A gentleman by the name of Collins stopping with you?"

"Collins?" was the response.

"Yes, Collins, or Collings, I ain't sure which," said the hardy-looking, bronzed seaman, to the gaily-dressed, flippant-mannered, be-whiskered man of vast importance, presiding over the affairs of one of our "first-class hotels."

"Very indefinite inquiry, then," said the hotel manager.

"Well, I brought this small package from Bremen for a gentleman who came out passenger with us some time ago; he left it in Bremen--wanted me to fetch it out when the ship returned--here it is."

"What do you want to leave it here for? We know nothing about the man, sir."

"You don't? Well, you ought to, for the gentleman put up here, and told me he'd be around when we got into port again. He was a deuced clever fellow, and you ought to have kept the reckoning of such a man," said the seaman.

"Ha, ha! we keep so many clever fellows," said he of the hotel, "that they are no novelties, sir."

"I wonder then," said the seaman, "you do not imitate some of them, for there's no danger of the world's getting crowded with a crew of good men."

"If you have any business with us we shall attend to it, sir, but we want none of your impertinence!"

"O, you don't? Well, Mister, I've business aboard of your craft; if you're the commodore, I'd like you to see that my friend Collins is piped up, or that this package be stowed away where he could come afoul of it. His name is Collins; here it is in black and white, on the parcel, and here's where I was to drop it."

One of the "understrappers" overhearing the dispute, whispered his dignified superior that Mr. Collins, an English gentleman, late from Bremen, was in the house, whereupon the dignified empressario, turning to the self-possessed man of the sea, said--

"Ah, well, leave the parcel, leave the parcel; we _suppose_ it's correct."

"There it is," said the seaman; "commodore, you see that the gentleman gets it; and I say," says the sailor, pushing back his hat and giving his breeches a regular sailor twitch, "I wish you'd please to say to the gentleman, Mr. Collins, you know, that Mr. Brace, first officer of the Triton, would like to see him aboard, any time he's at leisure."

But in the multiplicity of greater affairs, the hotel gentleman hardly attempted to listen or attend to the sailor's message, and Mr. Brace, first officer of the Triton, bore away, muttering to himself--

"These land-crabs mighty apt to put on airs. I'd like to have that powder monkey in my watch about a week--I'd have him down by the lifts and braces!"

Let us suppose it to be in the glorious month of October, when the myriads of travellers by land and ocean are wending their way from the chilly north towards the sunny south, when the invalid seeks the tropics in pursuit of his health, and the speculative man of business returns with his "invoices," to his shop, or factory, where profit leads the way.

We are on board ship--the Triton ploughing the deep blue waters of the ocean track from Sandy Hook to New Orleans; for October, the weather is rather unruly, _damp_, and boisterous. We perceive a number of passengers on board, and by near guess of our memory, we see a person or two we have seen before. Our be-whiskered friend of the "first-class hotel," is there; he does not look so self-possessed and pompous on board the heaving and tossing ship as he did behind his marble slab in "the office." "The sea, the sea!" as the song says, has quite taken the starch out of our stiff friend, who is not enjoying a first-rate time. And from an overheard conversation between two hardy, noble specimens of men that are men--two officers of the stoutly-timbered ship, the comfort of the be-whiskered gentleman is in danger of a commutation.

"Do you know him, Mr. Brace?"

"Yes, I know him; I knew him as soon as I got the cut of his jib coming aboard. Now, says I, my larky, you and I've got to travel together, and we'll settle a little odd reckoning, if you please, or if you don't please, afore we see the Balize. You see, that fellow keeps a crack hotel in York; I goes in there to deliver a package for a deuced good fellow as ever trod deck, and this powder monkey, loblolly-looking swab, puts on his airs, sticks up his nose, and hardly condescends to exchange signals with me. Ha! ha! I've met these galore cocks before; I can take the tail feathers out of 'em!" says Mr. Brace, who is the same hardy, frank and free fellow, with whom the reader has already formed something of a brief acquaintance. The person to whom Brace was addressing himself was the second officer of the merchantman, and it was settled that whatever nautical knowledge and skill could do to make things uneasy for Mr. Lollypops, the empressario of the "first-class hotel," was to be done, by mutual management of the two salt-water jokers.

"It appears to me, that a--bless me, sir, a--how this ship rolls!" said Lollypops, coming upon deck, and addressing Mr. Brace; "I--a never saw a ship roll so."

"Heavy sea on, sir," said Brace; "nothing to what we'll catch before a week's out."

"Bad coast, I believe, at this time o' year?" said Lollypops, balancing himself on first one leg and then the other.

"Worst coast in the world, sir; I'd rather go to Calcutta any time than go to Orleans; more vessels lost on the coast than are lost anywhere else on the four seas."

"You don't say so!" said Lollypops.

"Fact, sir," said Brace, who occasionally kept exchanging private and mysterious signals with the second officer, who held the wheel.

"Let her up a point, Mr. Brown, let her up!" Mr. Brown did let her up, and the way the Triton took head down and heels up and a roll to windward, did not speak so well for the nautical _menage_ of the officers as it did for the quiet deviltry of the salt-water Joe Millers. The avalanche of brine inundated the decks, making the sailors look quite asquirt, and driving Mr. Lollypops, an ancient voyager or two, and sundry other travelling gentry--very suddenly into the cabin. The next day the same performance followed; the appearance of Lollypops on deck was a signal for Brace or Brown, to go in, get up a double _roll_ on the ship, an imaginary gale was discussed, wrecks and reefs, dangerous points and dreadful currents were descanted upon, until Mr. Lollypops' health, at the end of the first week, was no better fast; in fact, he was getting sick of the voyage, while others around grew fat upon it. A fine morning induced the invalid to light his regalia and walk the decks; immediately Mr. Brace, or Brown, gave orders to wash down the decks. Mr. Lollypops went aloft, _ergo_, as far as the main top; immediately the first officer had the men "going about," heaving here and letting go there; in short, so endangering the hat and underpinning of the be-whiskered landlord of the "first-class hotel" that he was fain to crawl down, take the wet decks, tip-toe, and crawl into the cabin, damp as a dishcloth, and utterly disgusted with what he had seen of the sea! Accidentally, one afternoon, a tar pot fell from aloft; somehow or other, the careless sailor who held it, or should have held it--"let go all" just when Mr. Lollypops was in the immediate neighborhood; the result was that he had a splendid dressing-gown and other equipments--ruined eternally! Going into the cabin, Lollypops inquires for the Captain--

"Sir!" says he, "I am mad, Sir, very mad, Sir; yes, I am, Sir; look at me, only look at me! In rough weather we do not expect pleasant times at sea, but, Sir, ever since I have been on board, Sir, your infernal officers, Sir, have thrown this ship into all manner of unpleasant situations, kept the decks wet, rattled chains over my berth, wang-banged the rigging around, and finally, by thunder, I'm covered all over with villanous soap fat and tar! Now, Sir, this is not all the result of accident--it's premeditated rascality!"

"Sir"--says the bully mate, coming forward, at this crisis, "my name's Mr. Brace; when I was aboard your craft, in New York, you rather put on _airs_, and I said if you and I ever got to sea together--we'd have a _blow_ out. Now we're about even; if you're a mind we'll call the matter square--"

"Yes, yes, for heaven's sake, let us have no more of this!" says Lollypops.

"We'll have a bottle together, and wish for a clean run to Orleans!" continued officer Brace.

Lollypops agreed; he not only stood the wine, but got over his anger, vowed to look deeper into character, and never again rebuff honest manliness, though hid under the coarse costume of a son of Neptune! A hearty laugh closed the scene, and fair weather and a fine termination attended the voyage of the Triton to New Orleans; for a finer, drier craft never danced over the ocean wave, than that good ship, under _rational_ management.

The Broomstick Marriage.

"Marry in haste and repent at leisure," is a time-honored idea, and calls to mind a matrimonial circumstance which, according to pretty lively authority, once came about in the glorious Empire State. A certain Captain of a Lake Erie steamer, who was blessed with an elegant temperament for fun, fashion, and the feminines, was "laid up," over winter, near his childhood's home in Genesee county. Having nearly exhausted his private stock of jokes, and gone the entire rounds of life and liveliness of the season, he bethought him how he should create a little _stir_, and have his joke at the expense of a young Doctor, who had recently "located" in the neighborhood, and by his rather _taking_ person and manners, cut something of a swath in the community, and especially amongst the _calico!_

The profession of young Esculapius gave him an access to private society that ordinary circumstances did not vouch to most men. Among the many families with which Dr. Mutandis had formed an acquaintance was that of old Capt. Figgles. The Captain was a queer old mortal, who in his hale old days had quit life on the ocean wave for the quietude of agricultural comfort. The Captain was a blustering salt, whimsical, but generous and social, as old sailors most generally are. He was supposed to be in easy circumstances, but _how_ easy, very few knew.

Capt. Figgles's family consisted of himself, three daughters, one married and "settled," the other two at home; an ancient colored woman, who had served in the Captain's family,--ship and shore--a lifetime. Dinah and old Sam, her husband, with two or three farm-laborers, constituted the Captain's household. Betsy, the youngest daughter, the old man's favorite, had been christened Elizabeth, but that not being warm enough for Capt. Figgles's idea of attachment, he ever called his daughter, Betsy, and so she was called by _almost_ everybody at all familiar with the family. Betsy Figgles was not a very poetical subject, by name or size. She was a fine, bouncing young woman of four-and-twenty; she was dutiful and bountiful, if not beautiful. She was useful, and even ornamental in her old father's eyes, and, as he was wont to say, in his never-to-be-forgotten salt-water _linguæ_--

"Betsy was a _craft_, she was; a square-bilt, trim, well-ballasted craft, fore and aft; none of your sky-scraping, taut, Baltimore clipper, fair-weather, no-tonnage jigamarees! Betsy is a _woman_; her mother was just like her when I fell in with her, and it wasn't long afore I chartered her for a life's voyage. And the man who lets such a woman slip her cable and stand off soundings, for 'Cowes and a market,' when he's got a chance to fill out her papers and take command, is not a _man_, but a mouse, or a long-tailed Jamaica rat!"

Between Capt. Tiller, our Lake boatman, and Capt. Figgles, there was an intimacy of some years' standing, but the old Captain and the young Captain didn't exactly "hitch horses"--whether it was because Capt. T. came under the old man's idea of "a Jamaica rat," or because he looked upon inland sailors as greenhorns, deponent saith not.

Dr. Mutandis and Capt. Figgles were only upon so-so sort of business sociality, though both the junior Captain and the Doctor were intimate enough with both the Miss Figgleses. Capt. Tiller, as we intimated, was about to leave for coming duties on the Lake, and being so full of old Nick, it was indispensable that he must play off a practical joke, or have some fun with somebody, as a sort of a yarn for the season, on his boat.

The Figgleses announced a grand quilting scrape; the Doctor and Captain were among the invited guests, of course, and for some hours the assembled party had indeed as grand a good time generally as usually falls to the lot of a country community. Old black Ebenezer--but whose name had also been cut down for convenience sake to _Sam_, by the old Captain--did the orchestral duties upon his fiddle, which, aided by a youngster on the triangle and another on the tambourine, formed quite "a full band" for the occasion, and dancing was done up in style!

As a sort of "change of scene" or divertisement in the programme, somebody proposed games of this and games of that, and while old Capt. Figgles was as busy as "a flea in a tar bucket"--to use the old gentleman's simile--fulminating and fabricating a rousing bowl of egg flip for the entire party, Capt. Tiller and Dr. Mutandis were sort of paired off with a party of eight, in which were the two Miss Figgleses, to get up their own game.

"Good!" says Capt. Tiller, "pair off with Miss Betsy, Doctor, and I'll pair off with Miss Sally (the older daughter of Capt. F.), and now what say you? Let's make up a wedding-party--_let's jump the broomstick!_"

"Agreed!" cries the Doctor. "Who'll be the parson?"

"I'll be parson," says Capt. T.

"Well, get your book."

"Here it is!" cries another, poking a specimen of current Scripture into the _pseudo_ parson's hands.

"Miss Betsy and Dr. Mutandis, stand up," says Capt. Tiller, assuming quite the air and grace of the parson.

Bridesmaids, grooms, &c., were soon arranged in due order, and the interesting ceremony of joining hands and hearts in one happy bond of mutual and indissoluble (slightly, sometimes!) love and obedience was progressing.

"Cap'n Figgles, you're wanted," says one, interrupting the old man, now busy concocting his grog for all hands.

"Go to blazes, you son of a sea cook!" cries the old gentleman; "haven't you common decency to see when a man's engaged in a _calculation_ he oughtn't to be disturbed, eh?"

"But Betsy's going to be married!" insists the disturber, who, in fact, was half-seas over in infatuation with Miss Betsy, and had had a slight inkling of a fact that by the law of the State anybody could marry a couple, and the marriage would be as obligatory upon the parties as though performed by the identical legal authorities to whom young folks "in a bad way" are in the habit of appealing for relief.

"Let 'em heave ahead, you marine!" cries Capt. Figgles.

"Are you really willing to allow it?" continues the swain.

"Me willing? It's Betsy's affair; let her keep the lookout," said the old gent.

"But don't you know, Cap'n----"

"No! nor I don't care, you swab!" cries the excited Captain. "Bear away out of here," he continued, beginning to get down the glasses from the corner-cupboard shelves, "unless--but stop! hold on! here, take this waiter, Jones, and bear a hand with the grog, unless you want to stand by, and see the ship's company go down by the lifts and braces, dry as powder-monkeys! There; now pipe all hands--ship aho-o-o-oy!" bawls the old Captain; "bear up, the whole fleet! Now splice the main-brace! Don't nobody stand back, like loblolly boys at a funeral--come up and try Capt. Figgles's grog!"

And up they came, the entire crew, old Ebenezer to the _le'ard_, sweating like an ox, and laying off for the piping bowl he knew he was "in for" from the hands of his indulgent old master.

In the mean time, the marriage ceremony had had its hour, and the bride and bridegroom were "skylarking" with the rest of the company as happily together as turtle-doves in a clover-patch. The evening's entertainment wound up with an old-fashioned dance, and the quilting ended. Dr. Mutandis lived some five miles distant, and having a call to make the next morning near Capt. Figgles's farm, Dr. M. concluded to stop with the Captain. As Capt. Tiller was leaving, he took occasion to whisper into the ear of his medical friend--

"I wish you much joy, my fine fellow; you're married, if you did but know it--fast as a church! Good time to you and Betsy!"

"The devil!" says the Doctor, musingly; "it strikes me, since I come to think it over, that the laws of this State do privilege anybody to marry a couple! By thunder! it would be a fine spot of work for me if I was held to the ceremony by Miss Figgles!"

But the Doctor kept quiet, and next morning, after breakfast, he departed upon his business. He had no sooner entered the house of his patient, than he was wished much joy and congratulated upon the _fatness_ and jolly good nature of his bride!

"But," says the Doctor, "you're mistaken in this affair. It's all a hoax--a mere bit of fun!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed his patient, "fun?--you call getting married _fun_?"

"Yes," said the Doctor; "we were down at Capt. Figgles's; there was a quilting and sort of a frolic going on----"

"Yes, we heard of it."

"And, in fun, to keep up the sports of the evening, Capt. Tiller proposed to marry some of us. So Miss Figgles and I stood up, and Captain Tiller acted parson, and we had some sport."

"Well," says the farmer (proprietor of the house), "Capt. Tiller has got you into a tight place, Doctor; he's been around, laughing at the trick he's played you, as perhaps you were not aware of the fact that by the law you are now just as legally and surely married as though the knot was tied by five dozen parsons or magistrates!"

"I'll shoot Capt. Tiller, by Heavens!" cries the enraged Doctor. "He's a scoundrel! I'll crop his ears but I'll have satisfaction!"

"Pooh!" says the farmer, "if Betsy Figgles does not object, and her father is willing and satisfied with the match as it is, I don't see, Doctor, that you need mind the matter."

"I'll be revenged!" cries the Doctor.

"You were never previously married, were you?" says the farmer.

"No, sir," replied the Doctor.

"Engaged to any lady?" continued the interrogator.

"No, sir; I am too poor, too busy to think of such a folly as increasing my responsibilities to society!"

"Then, sir," said the farmer, "allow me to congratulate you upon this very fortunate event, rather than a disagreeable joke, for Capt. Figgles is worth nearly a quarter of a million of dollars, sir; and Miss Betsy is no gaudy butterfly, but, sir, she's an excellent girl, whom you may be proud of as your wife."

"'Squire," says the Doctor, "jump in with me, and go back to the Captain's and assist me to back out, beg the pardon of Miss Figgles and her father, and terminate this unpleasant farce."

The magistrate-farmer got into the Doctor's gig, and soon they were at Capt. Figgles's door.

"Captain," says the Doctor, "I don't know what excuse I _can_ offer for the fool I've made of myself, through that puppy, Capt. Tiller, but, sir----"

"Look a-here!" says the Captain, staring the Doctor broad in the face, "I've got wind of the whole affair; now ease off your palaver. You've married my daughter Betsy, in a joke; she's fit for the wife of a Commodore, and all I've got to say is, if you want her, take her; if you don't want her, you're a fool, and ought to be made a powder-monkey for the rest of your natural life."

"But the lady's will and wishes have not been consulted, sir."

"Betsy!" cries the old Captain, "come here. What say you--are you willing to remain spliced with the Doctor, or not? Hold up your head, my gal--speak out!"

"Yes--_I'm agreed, if he is_," said she.

"Well said, hurrah!" cries the Captain. "Now, sir (to the Doctor), to make all right and tight, I here give you, in presence of the 'Squire, my favorite daughter Betsy, and one of the best farms in the State of New York. Are you satisfied, Doctor?"

"Captain, I am. I shall try, sir, to make your daughter a happy woman!" returned the Doctor, and he did; he became the founder of a large family, and one of the wealthiest men in the State.

Rather pleased, finally, with the _joke_, the Doctor managed to turn it upon the Captain, who in due course of law was arrested upon the charge of illegally personating a parson, and marrying a couple without a license! He was fined fifty dollars and costs; and of course was thus caused to laugh on the wrong side of his mouth.

Appearances are Deceitful.

There are a great many good jokes told of the false notions formed as to the character and standing of persons, as judged by their dress and other outward signs. It is asserted, that a fine coat and silvery tone of voice, are no evidence of the gentleman, and few people of the present day will have the hardihood to assert that a blunt address, or shabby coat, are infallible recommendations for putting, however honest, or worthy, a man in a prominent attitude before the world, or the community he moves in. Some men of wealth, for the sake of variety, sometimes assume an eccentric or coarseness of costume, that answers all very well, as long as they keep where they are known; but to find out the levelling principles of utter nothingness among your fellow mortals, only assume a shabby apparel and stroll out among strangers, and you'll be essentially _knocked_ by the force of these facts. However, in this or almost any other Christian community, there is little, if any excuse, for a man, woman, or child going about or being "shabby." Let your garments, however coarse, be made clean and whole, and keep them so; if you have but one shirt and that minus sleeves and body, have the fragments washed, and make not your face and hands a stranger to the refreshing and purifying effects of water.

General Pinckney was one of the old school gentlemen of South Carolina. A man he was of the most punctilious precision in manners and customs, in courtesy, and cleanliness of dress and person; a man of brilliant talents, and, in every sense of the word, "a perfect gentleman!" Mr. Pinckney was one of the members of the first Congress, and during his sojourn in Philadelphia, boarded with an old lady by the name of Hall, I think--Mrs. Hall, a staid, prim and precise dame of the old regime. Mistress Hall was a widow; she kept but few boarders in her fine old mansion, on Chestnut street, and her few boarders were mostly members of Congress, or belonged to the Continental army. Never, since the days of that remarkable lady we read of in the books, who made her servant take her chair out of doors, and air it, if any body by chance sat down on it, and who was known to empty her tea-kettle, because somebody crossed the hearth during the operation of boiling water for tea,--exceeded Mistress Hall in domestic prudery and etiquette; hence it may be well imagined that "shabby people" and the "small fry" generally, found little or no favor in the eyes of the Quaker landlady of "ye olden time."

General Pinckney having served out his term or resigned his place, it was filled by another noted individual of Charleston, General Lowndes, one of the most courteous and talented men of his day, but the slovenliest and most shockingly ill-accoutred man on record. But for the care and watchfulness of one of the most superb women in existence at the time--Mrs. Lowndes,--the General would probably have frequently appeared in public, with his coat inside out, and his shirt over all!

General Lowndes, in starting for Philadelphia, was recommended by his friend Pinckney, to put up at Mistress Hall's; General P. giving General Lowndes a letter of introduction to that lady. Travelling was a slow and tedious, as well as fatiguing and dirty operation, at that day, so that after a journey from Charleston to Philadelphia, even a man with some pretensions to dress and respectable _contour_, would be apt to look a little "mussy;" but for the poor General's part, he looked hard enough, in all conscience, and had he known the _effect_ such an appearance was likely to produce upon Mistress Hall, he would not have had the temerity of invading her premises. But the General's views were far above "buttons," leather, and prunella. Such a thing as paying deferential courtesies to a man's garments, was something not dreamed of in his philosophy.

"Mrs. Hall's, I believe?" said the General, to a servant answering the ponderous, lion-headed knocker.

"Yes, sah," responded the sable waiter. "Walk dis way, sah, into de parlor, sah."

The General stalked in, leisurely; around the fire-place were seated a dozen of the boarders, the aforesaid "big bugs" of the olden time. Not one moved to offer the stranger a seat by the fire, although his warm Southern blood was pretty well congealed by the frosty air of the evening. The General pulled off his gloves, laid down his great heavy and dusty valice, and quietly took a remote seat to await the presence of the landlady. She came, lofty and imposing; coming into the parlor, with her astute cap upon her majestic head, her gold spectacles upon her nose, as stately as a stage queen!

"Good evening," said the gallant General, rising and making a very polite bow. "Mrs. Hall, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," she responded, stiffly, and eyeing Lowndes with considerable diffidence. "Any business with me, sir?"

"Yes, madam," responded the General, "I--a--purpose remaining in the city some time, and--a--I shall be pleased to put up with you."

"That's impossible, sir," was the ready and decisive reply. "My house is full; I cannot accommodate you."

"Well, really, that _will_ be a disappointment, indeed," said the General, "for I'm quite a stranger in the city, and may find it difficult to procure permanent lodgings."

"I presume not, sir," said she; "there are _taverns_ enough, where strangers are entertained."

The gentlemen around the fire, never offered to tender the stranger any information upon the subject, but several eyed him very hard, and doubtless felt pleased to see the discomfitted and ill-accoutred traveller seize his baggage, adjust his dusty coat, and start out, which _he_ was evidently very loth to do.

Just as Lowndes had reached the parlor door, it occurred to him that Pinckney had recommended him to "put up" at the widow's, and also had given him a letter of introduction to Mrs. Hall. This reminiscence caused the General to retrace his steps back into the parlor, where, placing his portmanteau on the table, he applied the key and opened it, and began fumbling around for his letters, to the no small wonder of the landlady and her respectable boarders.

"I have here, I believe, madam, a letter for you," blandly said the General, still overhauling his baggage.

"A letter for _me_, sir?" responded the lady.

"Yes, madam, from an old friend of yours, who recommended me to stop with you. Ah, here it is, from your friend General Pinckney, of South Carolina."

"General Pinckney!" echoed the landlady, all the gentlemen present cocking their eyes and ears! The widow tore open the letter, while Lowndes calmly fastened up his portmanteau, and all of a sudden, quite an incarnation spread its roseate hues over her still elegant features.

Lowndes seized his baggage, and, with a "good evening, madam, good evening, gentlemen," was about to leave the institution, when the lady arrested him with:

"Stop, if you please, sir; this is General Lowndes, I believe?"

"General Lowndes, madam, at your service," said he, with a dignified bow.

According to all accounts, just then, there was a very sudden rising about the fire-place, and a twinkling of chairs, as if they had all just been _struck_ with the idea that there was a stranger about!

"Keep your seats, gentlemen," said the General; "I don't wish to disturb any of you, as I'm about to leave."

"General Lowndes," said the widow, "any friend of Mr. Pinckney is welcome to my house. Though we are full, I can make room for _you_, sir."

The General stopped, and the widow and he became first-rate friends, when they became better acquainted.

Cigar Smoke

Few persons can readily conceive of the amount of cigars consumed in this country, daily, to say little or nothing of the yearly smokers. The growing passion for the noxious weed is truly any thing but pleasantly contemplative. A boy commences smoking at ten or a dozen years old, and by the time he should be "of age," he is, in various hot-house developed faculties, quite advanced in years! And street smoking, too, has increased, at a rate, within a year past, that bids fair to make the Puritan breezes of our evenings as redolent of "smoke and smell," as meets one's nasal organic faculties upon paying a pop visit to New York. There is but one idea of useful import that we can advance in favor of smoking, to any great extent, in our city: consumption and asthmatic disorders generally are more prevalent here than in other and more southern climates, and for the protection of the lungs, cigar smoking, to a moderate extent, may be useful, as well as pleasurable; but an indiscriminate "looseness" in smoking is not only a dead waste of much ready money, but injurious to the eyes, teeth, breath, taste, smell, and all other senses.

An Everlasting Tall Duel

After all the vicissitudes, ups and downs of a soldier's life, especially in such a campaign as that in Mexico, there is a great deal of music mixed up with the misery, fun with the fuss and feathers, and incident enough to last a man the balance of a long lifetime.

While camped at Camargo, the officers and privates of the Ohio volunteer regiment were paid off one day, and, of course, all who could get _leave_, started to town, to have a time, and get clear of their hard earnings.

The Mexicans were some pleased, and greatly illuminated by the Americans, that and the succeeding day. Several of the officers invested a portion of their funds in mules and mustangs. Among the rest, Lieut. Dick Mason and Adjt. Wash. Armstrong set up their private teams. Now, it so fell out, that one of Armstrong's men stole Mason's mule, and being caught during the day with the stolen property on him, or he on it, the high-handed private, (who, barring his propensity to ride in preference to walking, was a very clever sort of fellow, and rather popular with the Adjutant,) nabbed him as a hawk would a pip-chicken.

"If I catch the fellow who stole my mule," quoth Lieut. Dick, "I'll give him a lamming he won't forget soon!"

And, good as his word, when the man was taken, the Lieutenant had him whipped severely. This riled up Adjt. Wash., who, in good, round, unvarnished terms, volunteered to lick the Lieutenant--out of his leathers! From words they came to blows, very expeditiously, and somehow or other the Lieutenant came out second best--bad licked! This sort of a finale did not set well upon the stomach of the gallant Lieutenant; so he ups and writes a challenge to the Adjutant to meet in mortal combat; and readily finding a second, the challenge was signed, sealed, and delivered to Adjt. Armstrong, Company ----, Ohio volunteers. All these preliminaries were carried on in, or very near in, Camargo. The Adjutant readily accepted the invitation to step out and be shot at; and, having scared up his second, and having no heirs or assigns, goods, chattels, or other sublunary matters to adjust, no time was lost in making wills or leaving posthumous information. The duel went forward with alacrity, but all of a sudden it was discovered by the several interested parties that no arms were in the crowd. It would not very well do to go to camp and look for duelling weapons; so it was proposed to do the best that could be done under the circumstances, and buy such murderous tools as could be found at hand, and go into the merits of the case at once. At length the Adjutant and friend chanced upon a machine supposed to be a pistol, brought over to the Continent, most probably, by Cortez, in the year 1--sometime. It was a _scrougin_' thing to hold powder and lead, and went off once in three times with the intonation of a four-pounder.

"Hang the difference," says the Adjutant; "it will do."

"Must do," the second replies; and so paying for the tool, and swallowing down a fresh invoice of _ardiente_, the fighting men start to muster up their opponents, whom they found armed and equipped, upon a footing equal to the other side, or pretty near it, the Lieutenant having a little _heavier_ piece, with a bore into which a gill measure might be thrown.

"But--the difference!" cried seconds and principals.

"Let's fight, not talk," says the Adjutant.

"That's my opinion, gentlemen, exactly," the Lieutenant responds.

"Where shall we go?"

"Anywhere!"

"Better get out into the chaparral," say the cautious seconds; "don't want a crowd. Come on!" continue the seconds, very valorously; "let's fight!"

"Here's the ground!" cries one, as the parties reach a chaparral, a mile or so from town; "here is our ground!"

The principals stared around as if rather uncertain about that, for the bushes were so thick and high that precious little _ground_ was visible.

"It ain't worth while, gentlemen, to toss up for positions, is it?" says the Adjutant's second.

"No," cry both principals. "Measure off the _ground_, if you can find it; let us go to work."

"That's the talk!" says the Adjutant's second.

"Measure off thirty paces," the Lieutenant's second responds.

"No, ten!" cry the principals.

"Twenty paces or no fight!" insists the Adjutant's second. "Twenty paces; one, two, three----"

And the seconds trod off as best they could the distance, the pieces were loaded, the several bipeds took a drink all around from an ample jug of the R. G. they brought for the purpose, and then began the memorable duel. The principals were placed in their respective positions, to rake down each other; and from a safer point of the compass the seconds gave the word.

"Bang-g-g!" went the Adjutant's piece, knocking him down flat as a hoe-cake.

"F-f-f-izzy!" and the Lieutenant's piece hung fire.

The seconds flew to their men; a parley took place upon a "question" whether the Lieutenant had a _right_ to prime and fire again, or not. The Adjutant being set upon his pins; declared himself ready and willing to let the Lieutenant blaze away! The point was finally settled by loading up the Adjutant's piece, and priming that of the Lieutenant, placing the men, and giving the word,

"One, two, three!"

"Wang-g-g-g!"

"Fiz-a-bang-g-g-g!"

The seconds ran, or hobbled forward, each to his man, both being down; but whether by concussion, recoil of their fusees, force of the liquor, or weakness of the knee-pans, was a hard fact to solve.

"Hurt, Wash.?"

"Not a bit!" cries the Adjutant, getting up.

"Hit, Dick?"

"No, _sir!_" shouts the Lieutenant; "good as new!"

"Set 'em up!"

"Take your places, gentlemen!" cry the seconds.

All ready. Wang! bang! go the pieces, and down ker-_chug_ go both men again. The seconds rush forward, raise their men, all safe, load up again, take a drink, all right.

"Make ready, take aim, fire!"

"Wang-g-g!"

"Bang-g-g!"

Both down again, the Lieutenant's coat-tail slightly dislocated, and the Adjutant dangerously wounded in the leg of his breeches! Both parties getting very mad, very tired, and very anxious to try it on at ten paces. Seconds object, pieces loaded up again, principals arranged, and,

"One, two, three, fire!"

"Wang-g-g-g!"

"Bang-g-g!"

All down--load up again--take a drink--fire! and down they go again. It is very natural to suppose that all this firing attracted somebody's attention, and somebody came poking around to see what it was all about; and just then, as four or five Mexicans came peeping and peering through the chaparral, Dick and Wash. let drive--Bang-g! wang-g! and though it seemed impossible to hit one another, the slugs, ricochetting over and through the chaparral, knocked down two Mexicans, who yelled sanguinary murder, and the rest of their friends took to their heels. The seconds, not _quite_ so "tight" as the principals, took warning in time to evacuate the field of honor, Lieut. Dick's second taking him one way, and Ajt. Wash.'s friend going another, just as a "Corporal's Guard" made their appearance to arrest the _rioters_. In spite of the poor Mexicans' protestations, or endeavors to make out a true case, they were taken up and carried to the Guard-House, for shooting one another, and raising a row in general. A night's repose brought the morning's reflection, when the previous day's performances were laughed at, if not forgotten. Wash, and Dick became good friends, of course, and cemented the bonds of fraternity in the bloody work of a day or two afterwards, in storming Monterey.

* * * * *

THE END.

* * * * *

T. B. PETERSON'S LIST OF PUBLICATIONS

WIDDIFIELD'S

NEW COOK BOOK:

OR,

PRACTICAL RECEIPTS FOR THE HOUSEWIFE.

BY

HANNAH WIDDIFIELD,

_Celebrated for many Years for the superiority of every article
she made, in South Ninth Street, above Spruce, Philadelphia._

Complete in one large duodecimo volume, strongly bound. Price One Dollar.

There is not a lady living, but should possess themselves of a copy of this work at once. It will give you all better meals and make your cost of living less, and keep your husbands, sons, and brothers in an excellent humor. It is recommended by thousands, and is the _best_ and only complete Book on all kinds of Cookery extant. It is written so that all can understand it. It is taking the place of all other Cook Books, for a person possessing "WIDDIFIELD'S NEW COOK BOOK" needs no other, as a copy of this is worth all the other books, called Cook Books, in the World.

_Read what the Editor of the Dollar Newspaper says about it._

"The authoress of this work long enjoyed great celebrity with the best families in Philadelphia as the most thoroughly informed lady in her profession in this country. Her Establishment, on Ninth above Spruce street, has long enjoyed the patronage of the best livers in our city. The receipts cover almost every variety of cake or dish, and every species of cooking. One great advantage which this book enjoys over almost every other is the simplicity with which the ingredients are set forth, and the comparatively moderate cost at which particular receipts may be got up. In most cook books the directions cover so large a cost, that to common livers the directions had almost as well not be given. This objection has been measurably removed in this new volume. Another important matter is, no receipts are contained in it but those fully tested, not only by the author, but by cooks and housekeepers most competent to judge. The volume opens with directions for soup, for fish, oysters, meat, poultry, etc. In addition to all this, much attention has been given to directions for the preparation of dishes for the sick and convalescent. Mr. Peterson has issued the volume in handsome style, wisely, as we think, using large type and good paper. The book is sold at, or will be sent to any part of the Union, free of postage, on receipt of One Dollar."

_Read what the Editor of the Saturday Evening Post says of it._

"A number of good books on this subject have been published lately, but this is unquestionably the best that we have ever seen Its superiority is in the clearness, and brevity, and the practical directness of the receipts; they are easily understood and followed. The book looks like what it is, the ripe fruit of many years' successful practice. The establishment of Mrs. Widdifield has for many years held the first rank in Philadelphia for the unvarying excellence of every article there made; and now she crowns her well deserved celebrity by giving to the world _the best book that has been written on the subject of cookery_. The clear type in which the publisher presents it is no slight addition to its value."

_Read what the Editor of the Public Ledger says of it._

"A Valuable Work.--Next to having something to eat is having it cooked in a style fit to be eaten. Every housekeeper does not understand this art, and, probably, only for want of a little elementary teaching. This want is easily supplied, for T. B. Peterson has just published Mrs. Widdifield's New Cook Book, in which the experience of that celebrated person in this line is given so clearly and with such precise details, that any housekeeper of sufficient capacity to undertake the management of household affairs, can make herself an accomplished caterer for the table without serving an apprenticeship to the business. The book is published in one volume, the typography good, and paper excellent, with as much real useful information in the volume as would be worth a dozen times its price. Get it at once."

_Read what the Editors' wives think of it._

"It is unquestionably the _best_ Cook Book we have ever seen."--_Saturday Evening Post._

"It is _the best_ of the many works on Cookery which have appeared. The receipts are all plain and practical, and have never before appeared in print."--_Germantown Telegraph._

"It is the _best_ Cook Book out. Every housewife or lady should get a copy at once."--_Berks Co. Press._

"We have no hesitation in pronouncing it the best work on the subject of Cookery extant."--_Ladies' National Magazine._

"It is the _very best_ book on Cookery and Receipts published."--_Dollar Newspaper._

"It is the _very best family Cook Book in existence_, and we cordially recommend it as such to our readers."--_Evening Bulletin._

"It is _the best Cook Book_ we have ever seen."--_Washington Union._

» Copies of the above celebrated Cook Book will be sent to any one to any place, _free of postage_, on remitting One Dollar to the Publisher, in a letter. Published and for sale at the Cheap Bookselling and Publishing House of

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CHARLES DICKENS'S, MRS. CAROLINE LEE HENTZ'S, SIR E. L. BULWER'S,
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CURRER BELL'S, AND ALL THE OTHER BEST AUTHORS IN THE WORLD.

»The best way is to look through the Catalogue, and see what
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T. B. PETERSON,

No. 102 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia,

HAS JUST PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE,

STEREOTYPE EDITIONS OF THE FOLLOWING WORKS,

Which will be found to be the Best and Latest Publications,
by the Most Popular and Celebrated Writers in the World.

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All Books in this Catalogue will be sent to any one to any place,
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MRS. SOUTHWORTH'S Celebrated WORKS.

With a beautiful Illustration in each volume.

INDIA. THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. This is her new work, and is equal to any of her previous ones. Complete in two large volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1,25.

THE MISSING BRIDE; OR, MIRIAM THE AVENGER. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1,25.

THE LOST HEIRESS. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Being a Splendid Picture of American Life. It is a work of powerful interest. It is embellished with a beautiful Portrait and Autograph of the author. Complete in two vols., paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.

THE WIFE'S VICTORY; AND NINE OTHER NOUVELLETTES. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, for $1,25.

THE CURSE OF CLIFTON. By Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, gilt, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents.

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THE INITIALS. A LOVE STORY OF MODERN LIFE. By a daughter of the celebrated Lord Erskine, formerly Lord High Chancellor of England. This is a celebrated and world-renowned work. It is one of the best works ever published in the English language, and will be read for generations to come, and rank by the side of Sir Walter Scott's celebrated novels. Complete in two volumes, paper cover. Price One Dollar; or bound in one volume, cloth, gilt, for One Dollar and Twenty-five cents a copy.

CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS.

The best and most popular in the world. Ten different editions. No Library can be complete without a Sett of these Works. Reprinted from the Author's last Editions.

"PETERSON'S" is the only complete and uniform edition of Charles Dickens' works published in America; they are reprinted from the original London editions, and are now the only edition published in this country. No library, either public or private, can be complete without having in it a complete sett of the works of this, the greatest of all living authors. Every family should possess a sett of one of the editions. The cheap edition is complete in Twelve Volumes, paper cover; either or all of which can be had separately. Price Fifty cents each. The following are their names.

DAVID COPPERFIELD,
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY,
PICKWICK PAPERS,
DOMBEY AND SON,
MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT,
BARNABY RUDGE,
OLD CURIOSITY SHOP,
SKETCHES BY "BOZ,"
OLIVER TWIST
BLEAK HOUSE

DICKENS' NEW STORIES. Containing The Seven Poor Travellers. Nine New Stories by the Christmas Fire. Hard Times. Lizzie Leigh. The Miner's Daughters, etc.

CHRISTMAS STORIES. Containing--A Christmas Carol. The Chimes. Cricket on the Hearth. Battle of Life. Haunted Man, and Pictures from Italy.

A complete sett of the above edition, twelve volumes in all, will be sent to any one to any place, _free of postage_, for Five Dollars.

COMPLETE LIBRARY EDITION.

In FIVE large octavo volumes, with a Portrait, on Steel, of Charles Dickens, containing over Four Thousand very large pages, handsomely printed, and bound in various styles.

Volume 1 contains Pickwick Papers and Curiosity Shop.

" 2 do. Oliver Twist, Sketches by "Boz," and Barnaby Rudge.

" 3 do. Nicholas Nickleby and Martin Chuzzlewit.

" 4 do. David Copperfield, Dombey and Son, Christmas Stories,
and Pictures from Italy.

" 5 do. Bleak House, and Dickens' New Stories. Containing The
Seven Poor Travellers. Nine New Stories
by the Christmas Fire. Hard Times. Lizzie
Leigh. The Miner's Daughters, and Fortune
Wildred, etc.

Price of a complete sett. Bound in Black cloth, full gilt back, $7.50

" " " scarlet cloth, extra, 8 50

" " " library sheep, 9 00

" " " half turkey morocco, 11 00

" " " half calf, antique, 15 00

» _Illustrated Edition is described on next page._ «

ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF DICKENS' WORKS.

This edition is printed on very thick and fine white paper, and is profusely illustrated, with all the original illustrations by Cruikshank, Alfred Crowquill, Phiz, etc., from the original London edition, on copper, steel, and wood. Each volume contains a novel complete, and may be had in complete setts, beautifully bound in cloth, for Eighteen Dollars for the sett in twelve volumes, or any volume will be sold separately, as follows:

BLEAK HOUSE, _Price_, $1 50
PICKWICK PAPERS, 1 50
OLD CURIOSITY SHOP, 1 50
OLIVER TWIST, 1 50
SKETCHES BY "BOZ," 1 50
BARNABY RUDGE, 1 50
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY, 1 50
MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT, 1 50
DAVID COPPERFIELD, 1 50
DOMBEY AND SON, 1 50
CHRISTMAS STORIES, 1 50
DICKENS' NEW STORIES, 1 50

Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve vols., in black cloth, gilt back, $18,00

Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve vols., in full law library sheep, $24,00

Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated edition, in twelve vols., in half turkey Morocco, $27,00

Price of a complete sett of the Illustrated Edition, in twelve vols., in half calf, antique, $36,00

_All subsequent work by Charles Dickens will be issued in uniform style with all the previous ten different editions._

CAPTAIN MARRYATT'S WORKS.

Either of which can be had separately. Price of all except the four last is 25 cents each. They are printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo volume, complete in itself.

PETER SIMPLE.
JACOB FAITHFUL.
THE PHANTOM SHIP.
MIDSHIPMAN EASY.
KING'S OWN.
NEWTON FORSTER.
JAPHET IN SEARCH OF A FATHER.
PACHA OF MANY TALES.
NAVAL OFFICER.
PIRATE AND THREE CUTTERS.
SNARLEYYOW; or, the Dog-Fiend.
PERCIVAL KEENE. Price 50 cts.
POOR JACK. Price 50 cents.
SEA KING. 200 pages. Price 50 cents.
VALERIE. His last Novel. Price 50 cents.

ELLEN PICKERING'S NOVELS.

Either of which can be had separately. Price 25 cents each. They are printed on the finest white paper, and each forms one large octavo volume, complete in itself, neatly bound in a strong paper cover.