'^ "•-o' <V 
 
 o^ * 
 
 v .•:.v-_ <^ 
 
 
 >^.^.'^ 
 
 
 
 jp-n*., »: 
 
 ^^ '-n^d* •' 
 
 ♦" 
 
 r «•:,•', 
 
 
 
 
 .'.^'^vr, 
 
 
 
 
 
 ,«• ^ 
 
 
 
 « ^J.-l'^ 
 
 ■•;.''°%,--' 
 
 
 1° V"-'ttV V^:'^": ""^f (S:^f 
 
 

 '* sii^, % 
 
 
 
 r.-^'. 
 
 
 
 •oV 
 
 '^^ % 
 
 '^0 
 
 :nL% '^ 
 
 «^ * o „ ' ^-^ 
 
 
 %' ^^ 
 
 •^0' 
 
 4^"="^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■^o' 
 
 <?;. ♦•.<■' *<> 
 
 ••/%.-.■ 
 
 
 
 
 .c,^^.n. 
 
 aV^^ : 
 
1 
 
CRESCENT-SHINE; 
 
 OR 
 
 
 ^olxxmixs ° 
 
 NEW OKLEANS CKESCENT." 
 
 VABIKXY'S THE SPICE OF LIFE," AS THE SIIOEAIAKER SAID WHEN HE WAS CHEWING 
 WAX, LEATHER AND TOBACCO, ALL AT ONCE. 
 
 BY ISRAEL GIBBONS, 
 
 NEW ORLEANS: 
 
 ,1. O. WIXON, FVBLISMBJt, 04 CAMP STMEXJT. 
 
 18G6. 
 

 « 
 
INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 The reader may discover a good deal of moonshine in this book; but 
 the author, for reasons which must be obvious to the feeblest mind, 
 prefers to call it " Crescent-Shine. " 
 
 The author offers no apology to his friends for issuing this re-hash 
 of his writings, selected at random from a pasted Scrap-book, feeling 
 assured that they will all give it a cordial welcome. 
 
 To the public at large, the author diffidently hints the hope that 
 his book will be an agreeable companion to the traveler by rail or river, 
 and a pleasant cure to everybody for the ennui of idle half-hours. 
 
 In many 'of the scraps, he would like to give the dates ; but these 
 were not preserved, in pasting up the old scrap-book. 
 
 ISRAEL GIBBONS. 
 
1 
 
PUBLISHER'S PREFACE 
 
 The following pages contain selections from the miscellaneous writings 
 of tlie late Israel Gibbons, such as v/ere contributed to the New Orleans 
 Crescent during his connection with it as local reporter and correspondent. 
 This connection extended over a period of eleven years, mth the excep- 
 tion of a portion of the time when Mr. G-ibbons was in the Confederate 
 army; and the present volume is, of course, only a selection from the 
 many contributions he made to the Crescent during that time. It is not 
 assumed that this book contains the best things that Mr. Gibbons wrote, 
 or that its contents are a fair index of the genius and talents of the man. 
 On the contrary, it must occur to every one, and more especially to those 
 familiar with the hurry of a daily journal, that no writer on a paper issued 
 every day can do himself entire justice. Such vtTiters have very little 
 time for thought, for reflection, for embellishment — and their contribu- 
 tions to th§ press ought, therefore, to disarm criticism to a certain extent, 
 considering the disadvantages under which they appear before the public. 
 
 The present volume makes no pretensions of being a permanent addi- 
 tion to the literature of the country. The subjects on which it treats are, 
 from their very nature, incidental and ephemeral. The author's introduc- 
 tion, which is published herewith, and which was written only the day 
 before he died, sufficiently explains the object and intent of the publica- 
 tion. That object is, simply to lay before his old friends, and the general 
 public such selections from his current contributions to the New Orleans 
 Crescent during the past ten years as will revive many pleasant reminis- 
 cences of the past, as well as add to the literature of the South in a form 
 which we do not doubt will be acceptable to the public in general, and 
 more especially to the numerous personal friends of the author. 
 
 It was the intention of Mr. Gibbons himself to supervise the publica- 
 tion of this volume, and most of the articles in it were selected by him 
 for publication. The title page and the "Introduction" v/ere written by 
 him the day before his death. In making this publication we are only 
 carrying out his ovm intentions ; and we feel that we have a right to appeal to 
 his old friends for their favor and countenance to it, because it is the ful- 
 filling of the author's own wishes, and because it is simply a completion 
 of an enterprise he had himself undertaken for the benefit of his family, 
 after he had become fully satisfied that he was about to die. In repeating 
 v\rhat has already been published in the Oescewf— that every dollar of the 
 profit which may Jesuit from this enterprise goes to the widow and family 
 of Mr. Gibbons — vv^e only intend to show in what high esteem we held 
 
VI PUBLISHERS PREFACE. 
 
 Mm, how mucli we felt his loss, how valuable were his services to the 
 Crescent newspaper, and how anxious we are that his family should rea]3 
 the benefits of his genius and talents. 
 
 If there should be any who do not understand the special interest which 
 the publisher of the Crescent takes in this book, perhaps it will be explained 
 by the following letter which was addressed to him last January by Mr. 
 Gibbons, after he was so reduced by sickness as to be incapable of further 
 work upon the paper : 
 
 ' ' New Oeleans, January 6, 186G. 
 
 CoL. J. O. Nixon — Dear Sir : My illness has brought me to this pass : 
 I do not satisfy myself, nor do I satisfy you. J know this, and you know it. 
 
 I have taken up the idea that I will not get well, leading the sort of life 
 I have led for some weeks past. 
 
 Your treatment of me heretofore has always been kind and generous, 
 and while I live, the fact shall never be forgotten. 
 
 I therefore hope that you will in all kindness accept my resignation of 
 my chair in the Crescent office. 
 
 Next to life I love my wife. Next to my wife I love the Crescent But 
 I feel that my life v/ill not last long if I love the Crescent too much. There- 
 fore I quit. Truly yours, Issael Gibbons." 
 
 With this statement of the motives which have induced the xiublisher 
 to issue the present volume, he submits it to the public ; and he is very 
 sure that while there is nothing in it to offend anybody, the people of New 
 Orleans will find much in it to interest them, while the public at large wall 
 recognize in it, unpretentious as the book is, a contribution to the litera- 
 ture of the South which will do it no discredit. 
 
CI^ESOEIXT-SHITVE. 
 
 THE CRESCENT CARRIER TO fflS PATRONS, 
 
 J^AMUAJtT lat, 1860, 
 
 The Carrier offers to his patrons a Tableau Vivant, in honor 
 of the New Year, consisting of four characters : Old Father 
 Time, Old Mother Earth, Their Child America, and Their 
 Grand-Child LouislslNA. 
 
 Dresses of the Characters, and location of the TaUeau, at the opium qf Via Patrons, 
 
 TIME. 
 
 I am flying, still keep flying, and my vigor knows no dying, 
 For I spring from out this wondrous thing you call Eternity, 
 
 And in quiet exultation, I keep up my old rotation 
 On the playground of creation, some few specks of which you see. 
 
 For this ball you call earth, 
 In my lap at its birth. 
 
 Fell with the planets around; 
 And if worn it appears, 
 'Tis my kicks are its years. 
 
 Which it answers with endless rebound. 
 
 EARTH, 
 
 I am rolling, still keep rolling, 'neath a force there's no controlling, 
 My misery just the same as 'twas a thousand years ago; 
 
 For the tyrant combinations, and the warlike agitations 
 Of the wicked bloody nations are my never ending woe. ^ 
 
 I had rather expire. 
 By my own inner fire, 
 
 Than roll for so little that's good; 
 For my hopes of each year, 
 Ere its close disappear — 
 
 Men would not improve if they could. 
 
 AMERICA. 
 
 I am growing, still keep growing; when I'll stop there's now no knowing, 
 For my people swell by millions with the fast oncoming years; 
 
 And I'm young and stout at heart, and am prepared to t^e a part, 
 "When the otiier nations start from peace, and bloody war appears. 
 
10 CliESCENT-SHINIC. 
 
 There's some disaffection. 
 And talk of bisection 
 
 Within my own limits, I know; 
 Fear of this I have none, 
 But if e'er the deed's done, 
 
 Why in halves I'll continue to grow I 
 
 LOUISIANA, 
 
 I am rising, still uprising, all the other earth apprising 
 What a plentitude of wealth and power is given unto me ; 
 
 And I hold a course unswerving, with my sisters undeserving, 
 And "will live or die preserving all the rights which bless the free ! 
 
 With my fields and great river, 
 *Tis my pride to deliver 
 
 The staples of comfort to all; 
 Keeping square in my trade, 
 And ne'er refusing my aid 
 
 When reached by humanity's call, 
 
 ALL. 
 
 The old year has vanished, 
 
 Has taken its place 
 With the years that are banished 
 
 From Time's endless race. 
 And the New Year, now glowing 
 
 With promise and hope, 
 Will repeat the old showing 
 
 Of Time's horoscope. 
 
 So we'll sigh for the Old Year, 
 
 And shout for the New, 
 Who comes, a brave soldier. 
 
 His fate to pursue; 
 And when his days, fleeting, 
 
 3ring him to his bier. 
 Then, as now, we'll be greeting 
 
 Another New Year ! 
 
 ^ THE CARBi:EIi. 
 
 The Crescent, which shines o'er the city. 
 Would not, but for Carrier true. 
 
 To forget whom would sure be a pity,. 
 This morn of the year that is new ! 
 
 Eemember, he comes in all weather. 
 As punctual as human can be ; 
 
 3o, friend, you are left to judge whether 
 Your Carrier has not earned his feel 
 
SKYLARKING. 
 
 [Apfil, 1856.) 
 
 We had the rare luck to be one of the party who accom- 
 panied Mons. Godard in his voyage to the Upper Kegions, 
 on Sunday evening last, from the warehouse yard at the corner 
 of Poydras and Baronne streets. So extraordinary was the 
 spectacle, and so overwhelming were the sensations inspired 
 by our divorce from terra firma, that we feel incompetent to 
 impart more than a faint shadowing of them within the limits 
 of an ordinary newspaper article. The serial party consisted 
 of Mons. Godard; his daring assistant, MoHs. Manduit; and 
 three passengers, viz : Mr. Louis Dessommes, Mr. Star Davis, 
 and ourself. We five men, the ballast, provisions, wines, and 
 other articles in the car, made a dead weight of about fifteen 
 hundred pounds, to be whirled up to the etherial regions by 
 the beautiful "America." 
 
 It was astonishing, upon clearing the enclosure, to behold 
 the dense crowds of people outside — ^Poydras and Baronne 
 streets seeming to be j)aved with human faces rather than 
 round stones— not to say flattering, to be so generally looked 
 up to by all classes of society. It was exhilerating to see the 
 commotion beneath us as we passed along — the-stay-at-home 
 community scampering about over their back-yards, galleries, 
 and other places, in order to get a good view of us. We felt 
 some nervousness in ascending, but this feeling was soon ab- 
 sorbed by the sense of sublimity, the exaltation, inspired by the 
 unequalled scenCi It was well worth beholdingj and worth 
 the peril of life (should an ascension be so considered) to any 
 lover of the sublime. We return our thanks to the face of 
 nature generally, for the candor with which it revealed itself 
 to us; the city its form and intricacies, the river its tortuosities, 
 and the lakes and bayous their whereabouts. 
 
 We will undertake to explain what is the greatest wonder of 
 being up in a balloon. We were much puzzled by it at first, 
 but explained it to ourself by recollecting what we have been 
 taught by the atmosphere. It was the difference between 
 looking perpendicularly through the air, and horifeOntalJy 
 through it— a difference altogether astonishing. At one mile 
 from the earth houses looked much smaller than at a horizontal 
 distance of two miles. Horizontally distant, a house may 
 look as large as your hand; yet you will not be able to distin- 
 guish it by its minor details from any other house. Perpen- 
 dicularly, a house may look no larger than a, sixpence; yet 
 
12 CR,ESCIGNT-SmT>rE. 
 
 you will be able to count its windows, cbimneys, pillars and 
 other small details as if you held its daguerreotype in your 
 hand. Horses on the shell road seemed to us like ants creep- 
 ing along a chalk line; yet we were able to distinguish their 
 legs quite as plaiuly as we could those of an ant on our fore- 
 finger. Charity Hospital square looked as if we might grasp 
 it all with one hand; yet we could discover the minutiae of that 
 establishment with a clearness and certainty that seemed abso* 
 lutely miraculous. The chimney of the gas works, down 
 which we looked, reminded us of a tiny cotton-spool; the 
 French Cemeteries resembled boxes of crockery stuffed in with 
 grass; the Ridge Cemeteries seemed scraps of green velvet, 
 studded with Httle bits of egg-shell; the Metairie race-track 
 was so utterly insignificant as to draw expressions of the 
 highest astonishment from all the passengers; the cypress 
 swamp bore the semblance of a plain covered with dog-fennel; 
 and the CarroUton and Lake train of cars, over which we 
 passed, resembled a snail creeping slowly along, but sending 
 up a noise prodigious for an object so small. 
 
 Before we reached the Metairie Ridge, Godard hauled Man- 
 duit into the basket, and hung up his barometer. Over the 
 Ridge Cemeteries, the latter instrument indicated an altitude 
 of 10,000 feet; an announcement we could never havebeheved, 
 but for the lilliputian appearance of the race-course. An 
 expansion of the gas, and escape of a quantity down through 
 the neck of the balloon, caused us to descend. Nearing the 
 lake, we came down to two thousand feet. Finding everything 
 favorable for a splendid trip, Godard announced his intention 
 of crossing the lake, and oSfered to land any of us who might 
 not wish to go farther. The party was of course unanimously 
 in favor of the biggest kind of a ride. So out went some 
 ballast, and away we sailed. Crossing the lake, we hailed 
 fishermen in pigmy smacks; played with Echo till he made us 
 hoarse ; admired the balloon over out heads, the setting sun, 
 and the rising moon; held our breath to listen to the roar of 
 the million white-crested waves beneath us— wide-sounding 
 and solemn, like a song of eternity; and eat our supper of 
 roast turkey, bread, cake, pate, and wine, at an elevation of 
 ten thousand feet, with coquettish little clouds hovering around 
 us, as if they wished to approach and partake of our good 
 things. We— *that is to say, ourself— tasted of the wine very 
 sparingly, and only in ceremony ; being determined to indulge 
 only in the intellectual nectar of the ride^a draught more 
 exquisite, more exhilerating than any that ever came from a 
 terrestrial vintage. 
 
SKYL^^RKINGJ-. 
 
 13 
 
 AVe left Lake Pontchartrain to the west of Pass Mancliac, 
 and crossing the latter, passed to the east of Lake Maurepas, 
 in a northwesterly direction. We crossed an immense wilder- 
 ness, intersected by bayous gleaming in the moonlight, and 
 musical with the song of the whippoorwills, owls, katydids 
 and frogs, which we were able to hear plainly at an indefinite 
 height. Again we played with Echo, who was not so sharp- 
 tongued as on the lake, but more mellow and musical; 
 descended low enough to distinguish cypress swamps and pine 
 highlands; and dropped bottles at ten thousand feet, for the 
 astonishment of their sound reaching the earth, and the 
 length of time elapsing before the sound would reach us. 
 
 At length we neared symptoms of civilization. A man in 
 the forest beneath hailed us with a bugle, and played us a tune, 
 which seemed a strain belonging to heaven rather than earth. 
 We passed over fires in the woods; at length farms came in 
 sight— dull gray patches on the sombre green of the rolling 
 panorama; could hear the shouts and excitement of the people, 
 and the dogs barking as though they would bark their heads 
 off. At some distance to the left, a cluster of twinkling lights 
 indicated a town. Descending, we could discern handsome 
 mansions embosomed in groves on the margin of farms, with 
 the gardens, hedges, roads and fences. In due time, a large 
 cluster of lights to the right indicated another town, and one 
 of considerable size. We had chart and compass, and knew 
 our course; but having no idea of our rate of progression, 
 were unable to hazard a guess as to our whereabouts. We 
 descended repeatedly within haihng distance, but our shouts 
 were answered by words which we could not understand, 
 mingled with the baying of the dogs. Between nine and ten 
 o'clock, we descended for information, and were told by a man 
 that we were in Jefferson county, Mississippi. This was a 
 great astonishment, none of us believing that we were yet past 
 the State line. The first town we passed to the left must have 
 been Chnton, Louisiana, and the other, to the right. Liberty, 
 Mississippi. Our course had veered round to the north, and 
 Godard made calculations to land at or near Vicksburg. We 
 were now passing over a magnificent cotton country; at one 
 turn of the head we were able to count from twenty to fifty 
 plantations. 
 
 Descending several times low enough to exercise our lungs, 
 and finding that the country people had gone to bed, Captain 
 Godard prepared to treat us to a series of serial tableaux, a 
 feast of surprises and a desert of grandeur. At twelve thou- 
 sand feet, we were amid the lower clouds, sometimes in the 
 
14 CPtESCBlNrT-SHINE;* 
 
 moonlight and sometimes in shade; for as the currents of air 
 varied in speed at different altitudes^ the clouds were con- 
 tinually overtaking us, or changing their shapes and positions 
 about us. After a brief stay up there, the gas expands and 
 streams down through the neck, sending us towards terra 
 firma with a slight nausea. Godard, on his knees before the 
 barometer, with a bag of sand resting on the edge of the car, 
 its mouth grasped in his hand, takes us up at will to any 
 desired height. Up we go again, to fourteen thousand feet-^ 
 right into the middle of a large cloud; a dense fog surround- 
 ing us, moistening our garments, and shutting out all view of 
 the earth; but permitting Dame Luna to look at us through a 
 resplendent halo, tinted with the hues of the rainbow. A 
 sensation of thickness in our ears indicates the rarity of the 
 atmosphere, though our lungs can discover no difference. 
 Down we drop, and up again, several times, renewing our 
 vapor bath, and inhaling the down-jetting gas in rather 
 unpleasant quantities. Finally, with a Hberal discharge of 
 sand, up we go again, to the clouds, through them, and far 
 above them, to our greatest altitude, namely, sixteen thousand 
 feet, or nearly three miles. 
 
 This is the grand event of the journey. We know we shall 
 never be able to describe it justly. No poetic enthusiast, no 
 opium-eating or mesmeric dreamer could ever conceive of 
 anything haK so beautiful, so exquisitely grand, so overpower- 
 ingly sublime. The picture was daguerreot}^ed all over our 
 soul, and were we to outlive Methuselah, it would never in the 
 least be tarnished by the mold of forgetfulness. The deep 
 blue of the etherial vault, studded with stars and illumined by 
 the moon, twinkling and beaming in their pristine glory, can- 
 opied usj and rested all around us, on a horizon of snow-white 
 clouds* Though these clouds were separate, they appeared to 
 us as one undi\ided mass, their jagged shapes and shady out- 
 hnes being plainly marked upon each other. They shut out 
 all \iew of the earth, and seemed to form a vast bowl or basin 
 beneath us — -a vaUey of vapory snow-banks, fit for the revelry 
 of the gods, for an etherial Pantheon, or any mythological 
 congress. The moonlight was so clear, and so strongly reflected 
 by the vapors beneath, that the watches, compass and map of 
 the xoarty were as intelligible almost as by day; and we, having 
 a newspaper in our pocket, drew it forth, and were enabled to 
 read the smallest print in it with ease, and did read some of 
 it aloud, for the gratification of the party. All this time^ 
 though we breathed as freely as ever, our blood was humming 
 in our ears, and the cool air, acting upon our cloud-moistened 
 
sii;YrjAJRiO]srQ-. 15 
 
 clotliing, difiused quite a chilliness over us. At one time, 
 Dessommes laid down in the bottom of the basket for warmth. 
 In this grand situation w^e remained nearly a half houi*. At 
 length a fissure opened in the clouds directly beneath us, and 
 all below looked black as death — we could distinguish nothing. 
 "When the opening became tolerably wide, we were enabled to 
 see the cotton fields gliding by— little gray spots, not as large 
 as our hand. The expansion and escape of gas having again 
 sent us earthward, we made one more rise, to fifteen thousand 
 feet, among and above the clouds. 
 
 Our gallant little captain now concluding that we ought to 
 be in the neighborhood of Vicksburg, kept prospecting for the 
 river with his glasses. At last it seemingly appeared. We all 
 hailed it with deHght, but upon nearing we found it to be only 
 
 j a chain of cotton fields, of which we could see neither end. 
 
 j Godard then determined to land at the first opportunity, to 
 discover our whereabouts before going further; he was fearful 
 of getting too far from the river. Sloping down to a cotton 
 field, we found it bristling with dead timber, resembling black 
 and wdiite needles standing on end. Several other fields 
 offered a similar impediment; but at last we came to a field 
 destitute of tree or stump, and down w^e bounded right in the 
 middle of it, at precisely one o'clock, having been on the wing- 
 six hours and fifty minutes, and traversed a geographical dis- 
 tance from the city which we have since ascertained to be one 
 hundred and sixty miles — ^^an average of twenty-three miles an 
 hour. 
 
 The cotton field in which we landed belongs to Mr. Stephen 
 O. Smith, and is located thirty-five miles from Vicksburg, and 
 fifteen from Port Gibson, in a northeast direction, A negro 
 who saw us lajid, came running to us craay with delight, for he 
 had seen a balloon before, He told us all we wanted to know, 
 and w^as sure that his master would let us have carriage and 
 horses to take us to Yicksburg, which he, like a genuine 
 African, told us was only fifteen miles off. The balloon having 
 refused positively to continue its journey with more than two 
 persons, it was necessary that three of us should stay behind. 
 The only one of the party that could speak French and Eng- 
 lish w^as Mr. Dessommes, and Godard therefore selected him 
 for his companion and interpreter. The balloon, all shrunken 
 in its lower part, mounted slowly and sailed lazily away, just 
 above the tree-tops. It looked very tired, and doubtless did 
 not go far. Peter, the negro, seeing that it did not steer 
 directly for Vicksburg, shouted at the top of his voice, " Hello ! 
 massa ! you's gwine too fur to de left! Say! too fur to de left!" 
 
16 
 
 ORESCEJ^T^HIN-E. 
 
 We must now be brief. How Davis, Manduit, (who had 
 encased himself in a suit of black, npon getting into the car), 
 and ourself, followed Peter to his master's house, a mile off ; 
 how Mr. Smith would'nt let us have carriage or horses for love 
 or money, nor would let us see more than the tip of his nose 
 through the shutters of his window, but was certain that 
 Mr. Clark, a mile further on, would oblige lis; how we went to 
 Mr. Clark's, pilotted by Peter, who was the only friend we 
 found in that neck of woods, and could get nothing but a seat 
 for one in a buggy with an old negro, at the moderate figure 
 of ten dollars, which seat Davis purchased and drove off; how 
 Clark could'nt give us lodging, but gave us a drink of water 
 without charging for it; how Manduit despaired when we told 
 him in pantomine (neither of us understanding the language 
 of the other) that we would have to walk on; what a dry 
 time of it we had, wading silently till dayhght through dust 
 ankle deep, conceaUng roots and stumps, to the great damage 
 of our toes ; how we got wet knee-deep in attempting to leap 
 a stream which Manduit hopped over; how the dust then gave 
 us a pair of yellow mud leggings; how Manduit, discovering 
 three dead trees in a field nearly in a line, took them for tele- 
 graph poles, and shouted "telegraph!" how, while we were 
 studying means by which to get a breakfast without saying 
 "balloon," a heaven-sent brick wagon came along, into which 
 we jumped and jolted six or eight miles through a beautiful 
 country; how we met a barouche which Davis had sent out to 
 meet us, and how we rattled into Port Gibson, covered with 
 mud, clay and brick dust; how we were lions in that town, 
 and at Grand Gulf, and on board the Frank Lion; how Davis 
 made Manduit show his spangles and wheel a somerset when- 
 ever he found a man who doubted the story of our adventure, 
 of which there were plenty; how we beheld the rare spectacle 
 of a storm of rain in coming down the river, and how we 
 landed here during the eclipse of the moon on Tuesday night— 
 were all matters of which we could write lengthly, had we the 
 time to do it or our readers the patience to read it. 
 
 We would now have no more hesitation in going aloft with 
 Godard than we would in entering an omnibus, or sitting down 
 to a good dinner. 
 
OMIBUSIANA 
 
 In our ramblings about town we have frequently met — on 
 foot at times, and at others in the omnibuses — a hearty, lazy, 
 comfort-taking old gentleman, Quakerish in manner and dress, 
 who never appears to be noticing anything particularly, though 
 he is ever ready to open a conversation with his neighbors 
 upon any unusual incident that may occur during the ride. 
 The oddity of his remarks, on different occasions, drew us 
 naturally to him. "We are excessively fond of originals, and 
 recognized him as one of the most attractive class. In time 
 w^e made his acquaintance; and lately we presumed so far 
 upon his good nature as to ask him for a written disquisition 
 upon omnibus riding, feeling sure that his views would entertain 
 and instruct our readers. He willingly consented, and to-day 
 we have the pleasure of introducing him to our readers. It 
 will be seen that his views are old-fashioned, and that he ex- 
 presses them in an old-fashioned way. "We leave our readers 
 to judge how much sense they contain : 
 
 My Young Feiend: Thy servant, who hath much occasion to 
 journey through the highways and by-ways of this goodly city, 
 and is, by reason of his corpulency of body and shortness of 
 breath, a devoted patron of those goodly vehicles, the omni- 
 buses, seeth at times much that is not seemly in his fellow tra- 
 velers; wherefore, in obedience to thy request and to the 
 promptings of his spirit, which moveth him keenly, he now 
 unburdeneth his soul and offereth such advice as may be of 
 value to thee and thy friends, who, like, thyself and thy servant, 
 pay tribute to the men of many mules and glittering chariots. 
 And thy servant, in the benignity of his heart maketh no charge 
 for the instruction herein imparted. 
 
 1. If thy journey be long, and thy limbs averse to much 
 walking, secure thou a seat in the first omnibus that is going 
 thy way. If thy bones be rheumatic, and much jolting paineth 
 thee, take a seat in the middle if thou canst; but if there be 
 many beside thyself inside, take a seat wherever thou canst 
 get it. Should thy search for a seat be unavailing, thou hast 
 the choice of a stand on the tail-board, or a seat with the 
 Philistine on top; which letter is the more preferable, inasmuch 
 as it introduces thee to the society of a being, who by the 
 signs and cunning contrivances inside is publicly branded as a 
 thief; moreover, it giveth thee an exalted view of the neigh- 
 borhoods through which thou ridest, and inculcateth gymnastic 
 skill in the getting up and down, and in the constant endeavor 
 
 3 
 
18 CRESCET^T-SI-IIN-E. 
 
 which it imposes on thee to avoid breaking thj^neck by toppling 
 down to the earth. 
 
 2. If thou hail an omnibus, seeing at the same time that it 
 is full, do thou nevertheless insist on its stopping; then stick 
 thy nose ir^ at the door, and dehberately satisfy thyself of the 
 number, color, dress, age, sex, and general standing in society, 
 of the travelers therein seated. Thou art entitled to this much 
 for thy disappointment in not getting a, seat; and after satis- 
 fying thyself, thou mayest permit the omnibus to proceed. 
 
 3. If thou be one of the lucky ones in a fuH omnibus, and 
 outsiders stop the omnibus to inspect thee and thy fellows, 
 complain not: the fullness of the vehicle dependeth not upon 
 its capacity, but upon the elasticity of body and geniality of 
 feeling of the travelers. An omnibus, thou shouid'st know, is 
 never full, so long as those inside be accommodating: the Phil- 
 istine on top knoweth this, and hence liis readiness to stop for 
 each particular human who standeth on a corner with an in- 
 quiring countenance. 
 
 4. Above all things, never do thoi^ exclaim, " Proceed, driver, 
 thou art full." Oftentime it happen eth that the driver is 
 verging upon collapse from hunger, and his misconstruction of 
 thy speech may wound his feehngs sorely. Besides, should he 
 not misconstrue thy speech, his simphcity of mind may prevent 
 him fi'om understanding why his being full should be any 
 reason for his not taking all the time allowed by those other 
 Philistines, the starters. 
 
 5. Remember, in an omnibus thou belongest not to thyself: 
 thy hands are public property. Be thou ever ready to help in 
 old people, invalids, children, and married ladies with bundles; 
 to hold the door, pull the strap, hand up the ticket, let down 
 or put up the window or the curtain, and make thyself gene- 
 rally useful; but beware thou of being officious. If a lady be 
 young, fair to look upon, and unencumbered with baby or 
 bundle, she needeth not thy assistance, and thy seizing her 
 hand when she desireth it not, is apt to lessen thee in her 
 good opinion, besides subjecting thee to the criticism of thy 
 fellows who had not thy opportunity. 
 
 6. In one particular thou mayest be of service to all ladies; 
 and this is, in pulling the strap for them and conducting their 
 negotiations with the Phihstine overhead. For thou shouid'st 
 know, that the fashion of ladies' dresses in these days forbids 
 them raising their arms without great physical inconvenience 
 and some peril to their gussets. For services of this kind the 
 ladies are invariably grateful. Therefore, jump when thou 
 seest a lady look at the strap. 
 
OjNiisriBXJSi^isr^. 19 
 
 7. If thou wishest to become conspicuous with thy fellow- 
 travelers for aught else than thy good manners, thou mayest 
 easily do it. Hail the omnibus when thou art half a square 
 off in a cross street; walk leisurely till thou reach it and seat 
 thyseK leisurely. Then look around, and if thou recognize 
 one or more friends inside, shake hands with them and let 
 t hem have a full and free exposition of thy mind in regard to 
 the weather and other topics of the day. Finally, fumble in 
 all thy pockets for thy wallet; and when found, ransack it at 
 leisure till thou find a bill or a gold-piece and pass it up to the 
 Philistine; and if the Philistine be one of the kind who have 
 no fingers but many thumbs, and keep thee waiting? do thou 
 damn his eyes, and ask him if he intend keeping thee waiting 
 all day. And if, in waiting, thou should'st stand up, stand 
 straight and stiff, with thy feet close together, so that when 
 the omnibus suddenly starteth thou mayest set thy heel back 
 on the corns of thy fellow traveler behind thee to avoid falling; 
 and if the traveler complain, tell him thou did'st not mean to 
 do it and that it will be all the same a hundred years hence. 
 Then thou mayest sit spread out, or sideways, or lean in a 
 corner cross-legged, refusing to shrink or straight for new- 
 comers, and bruising the shins of thy near neighbor with the 
 toe of thy elevated boot; also, polishing thy boot on the skirt 
 of the lady opposite, and imparting color and moisture to the 
 hem thereof by depositing thy tobacco distillations on the floor. 
 And if there be twelve inside, though ten of the twelve be 
 little children, do thou raise a row with the driver if he offer 
 to stop for a thirteenth passenger. By attentively following 
 these instructions, one ride in an omnibus will enable thy fellow 
 passengers to know thee on the street for many months after- 
 ward. 
 
 8. Be not insane in thy tuggings at the strap if the omnibus 
 stand not stock still at the instant of thy first tug. The strap 
 hath no connection with the mules; nor is it necessary to raise 
 the fore-quarters of those animals from the earth in order to 
 effect a stoppage, as it \^erily seemeth some people believe from 
 their desperation and pertinacity in pulling. The strap passeth 
 around the leg and foot of the Phihstine, and when unduly 
 pulled it angereth the Philistine andprompteth him not to stop 
 until he can land thee safely in the next hole of dust or puddle 
 of mudi 
 
 9. Never take thy friend King into an omnibus with thee. 
 Though he be immensely popular with gentlemen everywhere, 
 he is universally detested by ladies, and is therefore not to be 
 tolerated in an omnibus — thy servant meaneth Smo-king. To 
 
20 
 
 CRESGST^TT-SHINE. 
 
 the other members of the king family there is no objection — 
 indeed Jo-king is desirable company, provided he be well be- 
 haved. And be careful that thou enter not an omnibus too 
 soon after thy famiharity with Drin-king; for should thou do 
 so, thou mayest offend thy fellow travelers and find among 
 them a Kic-king or a Lick-ing. 
 
 10. If thou sit at the back end of the omnibus, and there be 
 a vagrom boy on the tailboard— mind thine eye. The Philis^ 
 tines of the top have an insane habit of punishing the stern 
 passengers by cracking their whips in their eyes, as indemnity 
 for the surreptitious luxury enjoyed by the boys. Therefore, if 
 thou sit at the back end and a boy jump on behind, either 
 knock him off or change thy seat. 
 
 11. If thou be in an omnibus, and discover a friend opposite 
 or near thee, discuss thy business and family affairs with him 
 in a loud voice; and if thou deal scandal, cloak thy discourse 
 in such sort as to tantahze the curiosity of the other travelers. 
 They will listen to thee, and admire thee for thy great import- 
 ance and thy extensive knowledge of the general affairs of hfe. 
 Therefore if thou meet a friend in the omnibus, talk with him 
 in a loud voice, that all may hear. 
 
 12. If a lady enter the omnibus with skirts of exceeding 
 great amphtude, and spreadeth herself out extensively, do not 
 let her see thee smile or smirk at any friend thou mayest have 
 in the omnibus. She will know that thou art thinking of 
 hoops, and set thee down for no gentleman; and she will be 
 right. For the ladies who wear hoops are but the helpless 
 victims of fashion, and should not be made to suffer therefor. 
 Therefore preserve thy gravity when hoops are about, and look 
 weU to thy legs. 
 
 With these twelve commandments, young friend, thy ser- 
 vant closeth for the present. See that thou observe them well; 
 shouldst thou not, thou mayest receive more particular instruc- 
 tions hereafter* 
 
EXTRAORDINARY GEM OF LITERATURE AND ART. 
 
 We have before tts a book, the like of which we dare say is 
 not to be found in the wide world. It is a stout and hand- 
 somely bound octavo volume, filled out entirely by the pen 
 and pencil of a gentleman of this city, who is both a poet and 
 an artist. We mean W. G. Latham, Esq., the notary. 
 
 The volume is filled with poems, extracted and original, 
 with maxims from the Bible, apothegems of great writers, etc., 
 all put on the paper in the most exquisitely delicate, tasteful 
 and beautiful manner of which a human pen (Jan be capable. 
 Every one of the three hundred pages resembles a finely exe- 
 cuted copper-plate engraving; all the different styles of letter 
 and embellishment used by card engraverSj such as fine round- 
 hand, scriptj text^ back-slope and Italian, with elaborate 
 vignettes, initials and flourishes, following each other in the 
 most fascinating variety. 
 
 This, however, is not more than half the beauty of the book. 
 The talent of the writer in designing and drawing is shown on 
 almost every page, either by an illustrated border, suited to 
 the poem enclosed, or by splendidly colored flower-pieces and 
 elaborate pictures, the latter drawn With the pen, and so 
 much resembhng engravings that few can believe they are not 
 such. The splendor and taste of the flower-^pieces are not 
 surpassed, if equalled, by anything in the printed annuals. 
 We have looked over the book hours and hours, only to 
 become still more Iosj in admiration of its beauty, and of the 
 art-fancy which could draw such an immense labor from the 
 hand of one man. 
 
 We should state, however, that though the work in the 
 book is immense, it has not been to Mr. Latham a labor, in 
 the common acceptation of that word. It has been the pleasant 
 occupation of his leisure hours for several years past; at once 
 a pleasure derived from the exercise of art, and a labor of 
 love : begun, worked upon, and triumphantly completed, as a 
 worthy and lasting memento of a father's affection for an only 
 and dearly-cherished daughter. The young lady, beautiful 
 and accomplished, is well worthy such a present; and whether 
 she be vain or not, We think she is entitled to indulgence in the 
 largest vanity, in the possession of such a book; for we can safely 
 say that it is the only one of this kind, as far exceeding the 
 beautiful books ordinarily presented to ladies, as those books 
 exceed wrapping paper. The presentation plate, the dedica- 
 tion, and the different original poems addressed to the young 
 
22 
 
 CR-ESCET^T-SmiSriC. 
 
 lady, are alone enough to render it a priceless possession, 
 aside from the wealth of art in which tliey are enclosed. As 
 a literary compilation, we have never seen anything better 
 suited to a young lady: and for convenience, it is paged and 
 indexed like a printed book. 
 
 We feel a regret that the book, being a family jewel, cannot 
 be seen by all lovers of art; for its like has not been seen by 
 any. It was completed by Mr. Latham and presented to his 
 daughter as a New Year's gift for the present year; 
 
 A BELLIGERENT FRENCHMAN 
 
 Another exciting and rather ludicrous affair came off yes- 
 terday afternoon, on Ursulines street, between Chartres and 
 Old Levee. DejDuty Constable Erard, of Justice Duplantier's 
 Court, went to serve a writ of sequestration, for a debt of $14, 
 upon X. Lambert, an elderly Frenchman, who has been a 
 soldier in the French army, and now keeps a gunsmithing es- 
 tablishment at the place named. The Constable was accom- 
 panied by the man for whom the seizure was to be made. 
 
 On appearing at the door, and inquiring for Mr. Lambert, 
 Mrs. Lambert, a stout and uncommonly combative woman, 
 confronted Erard, and said her husband was not at home. 
 Erard peered in, saw the old man lying on a bed, and said he 
 was bound to see him. Lambert jumped up, and said furi- 
 ously that if any one attempted to enter he would blow his brains 
 out. He gave some weight to the threat by seizing a gun and get- 
 ting ready for action. Not being armed, Erard went for police 
 assistance. He got officer Fagotj and whilst he kept guard. 
 Fagot went and got officer Leclerc. "When both officers got 
 back, all three charged into the house. Lambert had gone up 
 stairs; his wife stood at the foot of the stairs, with a lockless 
 upraised gun in her hand. As the officers approached, she 
 clubbed the gun and battered away at them right and left, 
 striking Erard a hard blow over his shoulder and tearing his 
 coat. She was quickly disarmed; the party then started up 
 stairs after her husband; 
 
 Lambert, who stood near the head of the stairs, leveled his 
 gun at them and said he would kill them if they came up. 
 All three, however, rushed up stairs to seize him, but before 
 they could do so he shot at them twice. Both barrels of the 
 
^V BELI^ICfERET^T FKEiS^CiHIVI^Isr. 23 
 
 gun were loaded witli ball, and hj a miracle no one was hit. 
 Erard sprang on Lambert, clutching him by the shirt bosom 
 with one hand, and hj the cravat with his other. Lambert, 
 who is a powerful man, wrenched loose, leaving his shirt 
 bosom and some of his blood on it, and his cravat in Erard's 
 hands, and jumping back, showed light to the death. 
 
 The question of seizure of effects being now merged into the 
 question of seizure of Lambert's person, and the officers not 
 choosing to shoot him down without a warrant of arrest to 
 sustain them, they withdrew. Erard went back to Court, 
 complained, and Justice Duplantier issued a warrant for the 
 arrest of Lambert and his wife for resistiiag the execution of 
 the writ, and assaulting and shooting at the officers vv^ith 
 intent to kill. The wai'rant was given to Mr. Sorapai'u, the 
 head Constable of the Court, and he requested Lieut. Gastinel 
 to accompany him to the scene of warfare. 
 
 Meantime the scene on Ursulines street was comical in the 
 extreme. Lambert was in the up-stairs front room, marching 
 up and down past the windows, in military style, with his gun 
 erect, halting and looking out every moment; whilst his wife 
 marched up and dov/n the gallery beneath, also with a gun 
 erect, Occasionally he would shout to his wife, in French, 
 "Sentinel! keej) guard well down there! Don't sleep, at your 
 post!" etc. The faithful vv^oman obeyed orders, and eyed the 
 wonder-stricken crowds as if she felt she could take a regi- 
 ment. Several times, when persons not connected with the fuss 
 came too near the house, Lambert leveled his gun at them, 
 shouting, "Halt! this is my house! If you enter, you are a 
 dead man !" Of course no one entered. 
 
 A great crowd of people were collected across the street. 
 Occasionally Lambert stopped his tramp, and facing the crowd, 
 and striking his breast with his fist, exclaimed, "Ah, ha! yoT:t 
 see Napoleon! how do you like him!" and other expressions 
 of similar import. Once or twice he leveled his gun at the 
 crowd over the vray; the stanipede each time vras sudden and 
 laughable. 
 
 In good time Mr, Soraparu arrived^ accompanied by Lieut, 
 Gastinel and the other officers. They charged into the house; 
 Lambert, seeing the strength of the force, at once surrenderedj, 
 saying, "I see hov/ it is; I am a Frenchman, you are all Aus- 
 trians, and I must give up ! But remember, I surrender, and 
 you must not hurt me !" Mrs. Lambert, who had been keeping- 
 guard so bravely, with a loaded gun, also surrendered, and 
 both vv^ere taken to the lock-up. On the way thither, Lambert 
 patted Erard familiarly on the shoulder, and said, "My friend., 
 
24 
 
 CRESCK^N-T-SHIlSrE. 
 
 you are a good fellow, and will go my security." Erard, not 
 a little struck by such audacity, replied, "Yes, d — n you, I'll 
 go security to see you hung." 
 
 Justice Duplantier subsequently released Mrs. Lambert, 
 who is reported to be insane. Her husband had to go snacks 
 with the lock-up mosquitoes. The only injury he sustained 
 was a scratch he got from Erard's finger nails when he clawed 
 his shirt bosom. In all its aspects the affair was lively. 
 
 HOTEL KEEPING IN RACKENSACK. 
 
 A man may be a first rate fellow, as Mat Peel used to^^say, 
 and yet not know how to keep a hotel. If abihty in hotel- 
 keeping be a test of a good fellow, there is one man for whom 
 we can certainly youch as all sorts of a good fellow. He keeps 
 a hotel, or country tayern, if you will, away up in':the interior 
 of Arkansas, somewhere. The way we happened to hear of him 
 was this: 
 
 Several weeks ago, two well-known gentlemen of this city 
 w^ent traveling for the benefit of their health, and concluded 
 to try the famous Hot Springs of old "Raekensack." There 
 being neither river, railroad, nor canal to take a body to the 
 Springs, our travelers hired horses at their point of debarka- 
 tion, to ride in that manner to their destination. They un- 
 luckily did not follow the right road, or else there was no right 
 road to follow; at any rate they got lost, and after a fatiguing 
 day's ride through a barren and inhospitable wilderness, they 
 came to a neat httle building standing alone in the woods with 
 farming appendages around. Our travelers halted and hal- 
 looed. A great, tall, raw-boned giant of a fellow stepped out. 
 
 ''Can we get lodgings here to-night?" asked one of the 
 horsemen. 
 
 ''Well, gentlem^en, I reckon ye kin," said the big one, " and 
 welkim to boot. This is a hotel." 
 
 The travelers, although they did not like the cut of the 
 landlord's jib, dismounted, were relieved of their horses, and 
 wero soon regaling themselves over a good country supper of 
 corn dodgers, bacon, milk, fried chickens and coffee. It was 
 a regular country supper, but with their whetted appetites our 
 invalids enjoyed it amazingly. 
 
HOTEL-KEEIPIN-Gf- lilSr E.A.CIiEI>TSJ^CK. 25 
 
 After supper tlie gigantic landlord sat on the porch with 
 them talking, laughing, cracking jokes, and treating occasion- 
 ally to some good old r^^e, of which he appeared to have a 
 plentiful stock. The invalids set him down for a regular 
 " brick," and were still better pleased when lighted at last to • 
 nice soft feather beds, with the whitest and sweetest of sheets. 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Bill," said Tom, as they were sinking 
 gently into the embrace of Somnus, "this fellow keeps a nice 
 place, if it is out here in the woods." 
 
 "That's a fact," replied Bill, "and I suppose its a cheap 
 place, too; but I like it, and I'm willing to i3ay the full city 
 figure on it." 
 
 Next morning our trayelers were roused by their ugly but 
 affable landlord, and regaled with a breakfast, if possible, still 
 more appetizing than the last night's su^^per had been. The 
 horses were brought round and it was eyident that they too 
 had been well cared for. One of the travelers pulled out his 
 wallet, and said to the big entertainer: 
 
 ""Well, landlord, you keep a first-rate little hotel out here; 
 better than we exjoected to find. We are much pleased with 
 it, and now we want to know what the damage is." 
 
 The landlord drew himself up, and putting on a very solemn 
 look, said, "Gentlemen, I'm pleased to hear yer satisfied. 
 The bill is two hundred and seventy -five dollars." 
 
 "How much did you say, sir?" asked the travelers, both 
 startled. 
 
 The big one, drawing himself up a little higher, and looking 
 still more solemn, replied, distinctly and emphatically, "Two 
 hundred and seventy-five dollars, gentlemen." 
 
 "Do I hear you right, sir?" do you really mean to charge 
 us two hundred and seventy-five dollars for two meals and 
 lodging and horse-feed ?" 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the landlord, vfith the most alarming 
 sangfroid, "that's no mistake. "Two hundred and seventy-five 
 dollars is the bill." 
 
 The invahds got scared. They did not feel strong enough 
 to fight; and if they had, could never have hoped to make any 
 thing out of the ungainly giant who stood so composedly before 
 them. W^ithout sa^dng another word the traveler with the 
 wallet squeezed it and peeled its difierent pockets, and suc- 
 ceeded in handing over the full amount rec[uired. The land- 
 lord thanked his guests loolitely, and hoped if they should ever 
 pass that way again, that they would give him a call. 
 
 The travelers were now on their horses, and prej)ared, like 
 the famous cavahers in James' novels, to resume their solitary 
 4 
 
26 
 
 orescen"t-sh:iin"e. 
 
 ride. Before getting far off, however, tlie traveler who had 
 to disgorge, turned in his saddle, and hailed the landlord: 
 
 " I say, landlord," he shouted, "before I go, I'd just like to 
 ask you one question— a civil question — which you can't take 
 offence at." 
 
 "Fire ahead, gentlemen," was the answer; "ye've paid yer 
 bill, and yer welkim to ask any thin', without offense." 
 
 " "Well, how in the name of heaven did you come to charge 
 us two hundred and seventy-iive dollars for one night's accom- 
 modation, not worth more than five or six dollars at the 
 outside?" 
 
 " Certainly, gentlemen, I'll tell yer, and welkim. Yer see I 
 keep a hotel; and sometimes I has customers and sometimes 
 I has'nt. "When I has'nt, I has to charge accordin', and as you 
 are the first customers I've had well nig'h on to a year, yer 
 
 The hotel 
 
 « 
 
 I've had well nigh on 
 bill was a little bigger'n it mout ha' bin othervfise. 
 has to be kep' up, gentlemen, and when customers is sca'ce. 
 
 I has to charge accordin'." 
 
 "Good morning, landlord," said both the travelers; and 
 they rode off satisfied. 
 
 They did'nt go on to the Springs, however. They took the 
 back track for the river, and returned to this city for more 
 money, the big hotel-keeper having pretty well cleaned them 
 out. Resupplied with funds, they are now off to the Virginia 
 Springs ; being unwilling to trust themselves again among the 
 hotels of Arkansas interior. 
 
 They declare, though, that the big landlord who fleeced 
 them is a capital fellow — all sorts of a fellow — and knows how 
 to keep a hotel into the bargain. 
 
 PIETY OF TEXAS. 
 
 We yesterday gave Texas, the corporation darkey, a quarter, 
 for polite attention shown us at Kecorder Emerson's Court. 
 Yesterday, as most people know, was Sunday. Texas doffed 
 his cap, made a profound bow, and said, " Thank God, massa ! " 
 " Why do you thank God, Texas?" we asked. "You mus'nt 
 think hard 'cause I don't thank you," he replied, "but if God 
 had'nt made you a gentleman, you would'nt a give me de quar- 
 ter ! " Texas might have been mistaken in his witty flattery, 
 but he is certainly a reflective nigger. Texas has further said, 
 that we are a very fine 'porter. Of course, we can never for- 
 get Texas. 
 
OAD TU THE COMICK. 
 
 Grate Cornick, yure a goin ! With greatful feelins 
 I appresliiate the fack, and wish jer a plesent 
 Jurny. With mi telespoak I've wotcht jure 
 Moshuns; and Ime free tu saj, I like the, 
 Aspeck of yure;tale mutch moar nor that uv 
 Yure jphigger hed. 
 
 Knot that I raly thort 
 Yu wur a goin tu smash us oil inter 
 Infinnytesmle fracshuns, but cos their wos sum 
 Thin so onsertin about yer. It wur so 
 Long sence yu wur hear befour, I dident no 
 But wot yu mite ev chaingd j'ure babbits, 
 And pickt up bad maners in them forrin 
 Parts yuve bin ci-usin thru, sence yu put that 
 Orful skare on Charls the Phipth, and the rest 
 Uv man kind then existin. 
 
 With dew attenshun Ive 
 Listened tu the diskushins uv our lurnid 
 Men, about yer. Sum sed yu wur hard, and 
 Sum sed ya wur sopht. Sum sed yu wood 
 Knot leav a greas sj)ott uv muther urth — that 
 She would disapeer befour yer, like a drop uv 
 Turpintine in a steembote furniss. Uthers sed 
 Yu woodent maik no moar impreshun oh 
 Hur, then a flee bite on an elefent's 
 Hide. Sum sed yu wood hit us, and sum 
 Sed yu woodent. And so they kep it up, tell 
 They suckseedid in raisin considerabil uv an 
 Adjitashun amung the comon j)eepel. But yu 
 Dident hit us, grate Gomiek ! And agin yure 
 Cutin durt fur forrin parts. Oil wich goes tu 
 Sho, that astronnimers, in respeck tu comicks, 
 Doant no so dredful mutch moar nor the comon 
 Peepel aphter oil. 
 
 Yes, grate Comick, yure a goin ! 
 And the son rises in the saim oald plais ; and 
 The Massysip still runs doun ; rute hogg or di 
 Is stil th® chune v/ith oil man kind. Murchents 
 Speckylate; pollyashuns skeam; preechers tork 
 Polytiks; bilders bild; detters pursekute; luvyers 
 Luv; laidies ware hiipes; the baibies keap a 
 Kumin ; and the prise uv j^rovishuns is loheerfully 
 Advancin. In short, the world's oil rite, or 
 Kutlier oil rong, as it olways has bin ; wich is a 
 Sure sine she dusent think uv shettin up shop 
 Fur sum yeers tu cum. 
 
28 
 
 ClJ^EJ^CXu^s'T-Sim^E. 
 
 So, grate Comick, jaire 
 Vanisliin. It. matters nort tu me, wether yure 
 Hard, or soi)lit, or hot or cold, or gass or phire, 
 Or steem or smoak. Its enuff far me tu no 
 Yv. dideut hit us. That's sufishent. With mi 
 Telespoak I taik a partin skwint at yure 
 Butiful tale, feelin that distens lends enchantmint 
 Tu the vevr. And now. Ime dun with siense ; 
 Astronnimy dusent pay; gastronnimy does, and 
 Heeraphter He devoat mi tallents tu the 
 Latter. So nov/ Ime oph, fur a duzin ror 
 At Sams'. Grate Comick, adyew ! 
 
 A PRINTERS' STRIKE. 
 
 A Printers' Strike, of a rather serious nature, occurred on 
 Saturday eyening. Tiie particulars, as far as v^e could ascer- 
 tain, were these: 
 
 The typos of one of the most ancient and respectable news- 
 paper offices in the cit^^, having heard for sometime past that 
 Dan Hickok had run out of good cordial and fresh fish, and 
 that, though a first rate fellow, he didn't know how to keep a 
 hotel, held a chapel on the subject. The only legitimate way 
 of settling the question, was to appoint a committee to go 
 down to the lake and investigate. Being unable, after due 
 debate, to decide as to which of them should^ constitute said 
 committee, they resolved themselves into a special joint com- 
 mittee of the whole, and went down in a long-drawn-out body, 
 two in each buggy. 
 
 They had an interview vath Dan Hickok. He satisfied 
 them that the reports about him and his hotel were slander- 
 ous. They made friends with him, and apologized by going 
 largely into his good things. They parted good friends; Dan 
 having furnished a clean proof of his capacity as a hotel-keeper, 
 vfithout subjecting the Sons of Eaust to the trouble of a revise. 
 
 All vv^ould have ended well, but for one unlucky circum- 
 stance. A celebrated and well-known loafer, who hangs about 
 all the coffee-houses in town, but delights particularly in the 
 lake hotels, i3res3ed himself into the society of the printers, 
 and insisted upon accompanymg them, as he has done on in- 
 numerable occasions, with all classes and quahties of lake 
 visitors and coffee-house patrons. Though generally detested, 
 he has a way of getting around gentlemen in their cups which 
 few can resist. 
 
A. rKIIsTTEHS' STR-IIiE. 29 
 
 This fellow, whose name is Drunke N. Hickiips, came into 
 town witli our typographical friends, and was the joUiest and 
 most reckless of the party. Though he has come in by the 
 Shell Road a thousand times, he is still a dxeadfuUy bad 
 driver, and has subjected his unsuspecting friends to all sorts 
 of collisions, upsets, spills, scatters, smashes, and sore bones 
 generally. On this occasion he was more than usually jolly, 
 and, according to his usual insanity, fancied there was nothing 
 on the road save the iiying buggy in which vvdth his two chosen 
 friends he w^as seated. The result was, that w^hiist scudding 
 along the Bienville road, near Claiborne street, he failed to 
 see an omnibus which was coming the opposite way, from 
 town. Omnibusses are not in the habit of getting away from 
 buggies; the latter generally have to take the consequences, 
 when they fail to get out of the v/ay. On this occasion, the 
 omnibus and the buggy saluted each other. The kiss was 
 fierce. The omnibus went on, smacking its lips; the buggy 
 fainted; and Mr. Hickups and his tv/o victims were the suf- 
 ferers. 
 
 Hickups clid'nt care a cent about it; but the two printers 
 did. At the very moment of the collision, the printers voted 
 it an outrage and struck. They did not strike against the 
 omnibus, which hurried on to avoid a row, but they struck 
 against the road, which had tolerated an omnibus so rascally. 
 They suffered, however. They were knocked into pi, and dis- 
 tributed all over the road. The other printers, who had been 
 striving to make even columns with them in the chase, came 
 along, set them up again, and brought them to town, two blank 
 pages in an octavo form, of a v/ork which might have been 
 entitled, "A Trip to the Chief Lp.goon of Louisiana; vath Geo- 
 logical and Hickokological Explorations, and a Treatise on 
 the Shells of the Carbunkeliferous Period." The buggy was 
 brought in, a bundle of badiy-damaged/wrtt^Yiirg; and yester- 
 day, (Hickups having sneaked off, as usual, after his victims 
 had been plained down in their beds by their friends,) the two 
 victims, with lithographic impressions of the • Shell Road aU 
 over their faces, knuckles, and bodies, in red ink, were raking 
 up quoins vnth which to lock up the mouth of the ow^ner of the 
 smashed-up buggy. There was a heavy demand for " subs," 
 yesterday, in one of our most ancient and respectable news- 
 paper offices. 
 
HARD OLD WOMAN. 
 
 Eliza Sickles' last adventures were rather funny. Eliza is 
 the oldest boarder at the Work-house, having resided there, 
 with short monthly and quarterly intervals of freedom and 
 drunkenness, for the last ten or twelve years. When there, 
 and sober, she is very well behaved; and whenever she returns, 
 upon getting drunk at the expiration of her previous term, 
 she is welcomed for her efficiency and value as a nurse. In 
 fact she has long been called '' the old Work-house nurse " by 
 the police and officers of the Work-house. 
 
 Some three months since, Eliza finished a term, was turned 
 out, immediately got roaring drunk, and was u^d before Eecorder 
 Summers as usual next morning. The Recorder, fatigued with 
 constantly sending her to the Work-house, offered her, as an 
 alternative, the privilege of going up to his farm in the piney 
 woods, near the town of Tangipaho, on the Jackson Raikoad; 
 thinking that change of scene and the country air, together 
 with a total abstinence from v/hisk}-, might work in her a 
 change for the better. Eliza gladly accepted the proposal, and 
 being furnished with the necessary directions, promised to 
 leave by the next morning's cars. But that night she got 
 beastly drunk, and was taken to the lock-up. Being turned 
 out next day, on her promise to take the cars, she got drunk 
 again, and spent a second night in the lock-up. The morning- 
 after that, her dread of the Work-house nerved her to go to 
 the cars and actually take her departure. She could'nt tell 
 exactly where she wanted to go to, but finally made the con- 
 ductor understand that it was somewhere near Tangipaho. 
 The conductor put her off at Mr. James W^ingfield's. That 
 gentleman having no use for such an animal, concluded that 
 the Recorder had destined her for his farm, further on, and so 
 sent her there. 
 
 Eliza settled at the farm, kept sober, (there being no whisky 
 in the vicinity), made herself useful, and promised to become 
 a decent sort of a woman. But last week she spoiled for her 
 usual quarterly spree, and fell from grace. She borrowed two 
 bits from a Dutchman on the farm, found her v\'ay to Tangipaho, 
 invested the whole of the two bits in cheap whisky, and went 
 around on a regular New Orleans bender. Had a Bengal tiger 
 or a Numidian lion broke loose from some imknown quarter, 
 the inhabitants of the quiet town of Tangipaho could not have 
 been more astonished or terrified. She reeled around, cursing, 
 blaspheming, screaming and 3^ elling, v>dth all the fury of a fiend 
 from the lower regions. The Mayor of Tangipaho, not know- 
 
IIA.RD OLD ^VOIVI^A^jS-. 31 
 
 iug who slie wp^s or wliere she came from, went to her to talk 
 to her; tried to pacify her, and reason with her. "Clear out 
 from me!" she shrieked; "7/on let me alone, yon pusillani- 
 mons, spindle-shanked son of a — ! Recorder Summers sends 
 better looking men than yon to the Work-house every day!" The 
 Mayor wilted. It was finally found out that Eliza was a stray 
 animal from Recorder Summers' farm, and she was secured 
 and sent back there. 
 
 On Sunday the Recorder received the news that Eliza Sickles 
 had broke loose, and had been taking the town of Tangipaho 
 and vicinity. On Monday he w^ent up to see after her. He 
 apologized to the town of Tangipaho for the eccentricity of 
 his protege; and going to the farm, found her there sober 
 and very penitent. She begged and prayed for pardon, but 
 it was useless. The Recorder ordered her peremptorily to 
 bundle up her things and come back to town by the next train. 
 She obeyed him, meekly, and arrived on Monday evening. 
 That night she got on one of her glorious old-fashioned drunks, 
 and was arrested, according to custom. 
 
 POOR LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 Interesting scenes sometimes takes place in the back-offices 
 of the Recorders' Courts, as well as in the court-rooms. Whilst 
 we were finishing \\p our report of the bigamy case, in the 
 back-office of Recorder Long's Court, Wednesday, an officer 
 came in with a little girl about eleven years old. She was a 
 shabby little girl, bare-headed, with rough shoes and a cheap 
 calico dress without hoops. She had a good face, though il 
 appeared to be clouded with unutterable trouble. After a bit 
 the Recorder came in, and the officer told him there was a girt 
 who wanted to see him. 
 
 "Well, sis," said the Recorder, sitting down and knocking 
 the ashes from his cigar, "what's the trouble with you?" 
 
 She hesitated a bit, and then, slowly and heavily, as if each 
 word were a pig of lead, requiring all her strength to bring 
 it up. 
 
 " I want to get my mother out, sir." 
 
 " Who is your mother ?" 
 
 "Mrs. Fardey, sir." 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
32 
 
 crcEscEiNT-si-iiisrE. 
 
 '' She's in the Work-house, sir." 
 
 *' What's she in for ?" 
 
 " I beheve she got drunh and cut up some, sir." 
 
 The Recorder told the clerk to overhaul the book and find 
 out when Mrs. Eardey got into the Work-house, and what for. 
 In a moment the clerk read from the book, " Mrs. Fardey, for 
 getting di'unk and disturbing the peace, five dollars fine or 
 thirty days in the Work-house." Then the Recorder remem- 
 bered the case, and also remembered that it vv^as the second 
 time he had sent Mrs. Fardey to the Work-house. Turning 
 to the girl, he said : 
 
 " I remember now — I let your mother out once before for 
 you, did'nt I ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " And now you want me to let her out again ! I hardly 
 think it's of any use — she'll only get drunk again, and I'll have 
 to send her back." 
 
 "But here's the money sir," said the girl, her face pucker- 
 ing for a cry; at the same time offering the Recorder a roll of 
 silver, in an old rag. 
 
 "Who gave j^-ou that money?" 
 
 "I got it myself, sir." 
 
 " How did you get it?" ■ 
 
 "I earn't it, sh' — I live out." 
 
 " Yv^ho do you hve v/ith ?" 
 
 "I live at Mr. 's on Yictory street:, at the grocery, sir." 
 
 Here one of the offi.cers explained that she was a well-behaved 
 girl, hired as a servant around the grocery kept by the man 
 she had named. 
 
 " So this money is your month's v^'ages, is it ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "Well, I'll let your mother out once more, but I would'nt do 
 it only for you. Are you sure she won't be uj) here again 
 soon ?" 
 
 " No, sir, she won't come again, for I'll keep her from going 
 into that yard again." 
 
 " But suppose you can't ?" 
 
 " I'll do aU I can, sir, to keep her from it," she said, again 
 offering the Recprder the old rag v/ith her month's wages in it. 
 
 " Keep your money, sis — ^go and buy yourself some clean 
 clothes with it, and don't let your mother know you have it, 
 or she v,dil take it and get drunk again. Mind v/hat I tell 3-0U 
 nov\^ — do you hear ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir — thank you sir." 
 
 " Be sure you do as I tell you, now, or your mother will get 
 
M 
 
 33 
 
 in ttie Work-liouse again, and then I won't let her out for you 
 or for anybody's money ; do you hear? Are you going to buy 
 clothes with that money ?" 
 
 " Yes I am, sir." 
 
 An order on Mr. Hernandez, of the Work-house, for the 
 release of Mrs. Fardey, was given the girl; and then saying 
 " Thank you sir," she started. 
 
 "Where are you going now, sis?" asked one of the officers, 
 as she passed him. 
 
 "I'm going right strait to the Work-house," she said, and 
 off she sped, like a bolt. 
 
 What a child, to have such a mother ! 
 
 FLY-TIME AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 Some hard practical jokes are played by our New Orleans 
 boys in "fly-time," when there is little else to do. We call it 
 a hard practical joke, for instance, when a lire-eating gentle- 
 man, who can boast of his half dozen or dozen meetings on 
 the field of honor, with pistol and with sword, should at last 
 be made the victim of a sham duel, in which he alone should be 
 the earnest and innocent party. 
 
 At a late hour on Wednesday night, a knot of young men 
 were standing in the moon-light at a corner in the Second Dis- 
 trict, talking of politics and all the other different topics which 
 naturally come up when the speakers are comfortable with 
 cigars and cognac, and in no hurry to get home. From 
 politics, the talk changed fto women; and one made a remark 
 about a certain female, to which the duehstic gentleman gave 
 the lie. The other, who was laughing, and in the best humor, 
 said, " You call me liar, I shall have to slap you !" with which 
 he gave him a gentle open-handed tap on one of his cheeks. 
 The lady's man took this as a fighting insult; but stated that 
 he would settle it according to the code, and in no other way. 
 He challenged the other to meet him at any time and place, 
 and with any weapon he might choose. The others of the 
 party tried to make peace; represented that the offending 
 gentleman had only been joking in what he said about the 
 female and in giving the slap, and was ready to make all hon- 
 orable amends. The offended gentleman refused to listen to 
 anything of the kind, and insisted upon formal satisfaction 
 being rendered in the field. 
 5 
 
34 CRKSCIiilSrT-SHII^E. 
 
 The mutual friends of the two went aside and held a long 
 consultation. The verdict was this : " Gentlemen, we find it 
 will have to come to a fight. If you two were strangers, we 
 would stop it on our own responsibility; but as you have long 
 been friends, and as one is determined to have satisfaction out 
 of the other, it is none of our affair to interfere between you." 
 " And," continued the speaker, " the sooner it takes place the 
 better; if it's put off, everybody will hear of it, and may be 
 the police will stop it; it ought to take place right off, or as 
 soon as we can get the weapons and get out of town." 
 
 A general confab resulted in the selection of the lake shore, 
 near Milneburg, as the place, and the time as early as the first 
 train of cars would permit. The difficulty about the weapons 
 was soon fixed; the challenged party had named pistols; the 
 challenger wanted to name the distance, at five paces; but his 
 friends insisted that such proximity vras too murderous, in a 
 dispute with a friend, and insisted upon ten paces. To this 
 the challenger reluctantly consented. The daylight train of 
 cars took the party down to the lake, and an open space on 
 the shore, a short distance from Milneburg, was selected as 
 the scene of the prospective or possible tragedy. The pistols 
 were procured fi'om one of the shooting galleries in Milneburg. 
 
 The challenger, who is a really brave and resolute man, took 
 off his coat at an early stage of the proceedings, hung it on a 
 neighboring fence, and walked up and down, smoking his 
 cigarette as coolly as any man could have done under the 
 circumstances. Taking his roll of cigarettes from his pocket, 
 he handed them to his second, saying, " Take care of them 
 for me ; if a ball should strike them, the tobacco would be 
 bad in my body." Afterwards, as the seconds squatted 
 together, io load the pistols, the hero of the affair came up 
 and requested to see the loading. He was accommodated; 
 he saw the bullet put into his enemy's pistol, after the j)Owder, 
 and his own second, handing him a bullet, asked him to put it 
 into his pistol himself. He did so, and the second rammed it 
 home. 
 
 By a mistake, or through their excitement, the seconds neg- 
 lected measuring off the ground till the last. With their pistols, 
 swinging at their sides, they hooked arms and stepped off ten 
 paces. As they were doing this, two friends of the hero got 
 in front of him to give him those little bits of advice upon 
 which his life might depend. He was more confident of vic- 
 tory than ever, and exclaimed, "See what a big man he is! 
 how can I miss him at ten steps ?" The toss-up for position 
 was next had, and the principals, looking death and thunder 
 
K"LY-TI]MIi: ^^IVIUSEnVIEjSTTS. 35 
 
 at each other, were stationed in their places. The duly-selected 
 umpire, %yho was commissioned to give the word, addressed 
 them : "Gentlemen," he said, "we are all friends of both of 
 you, and have done all in our power to reconcile the unfortu- 
 nate difficulty between you; therefore, since you must fight, 
 we are bound to see that you do it fairly. I shall give the 
 word this way : Fire, one, two, three. You are not to raise 
 your i^istols before the word fire, nor fire before the word one, 
 nor after the word three. I shall ask if you are ready, and 
 when I hear you both answer yes, I shall give the word." 
 
 The principals already had their weapons pointed at the 
 death-lines drawn between them, on the ground. The umpire, 
 finding them ready, gave the word. 
 "Fire! one!! two!!!"— 
 Pop ! pop ! 
 
 The challenged party dropped his pistol, clapped both hands 
 to his side, exclamied, " Ugh ! " and fell headlong to the earth. 
 His second ran to him, cut open his shirt, and found a terrible 
 quantity of blood, which he staunched with a bottle of Gouley's 
 bitters, and proceeded to bandage with a piece of linen torn 
 from his shn't-tail, and a handkerchief. Meantime, the friends 
 of the victor, breathless with grief and horror, got around 
 him. "You've killed him!" said one; "poor fellow! he'll 
 never breathe again — and to think, he has always been one of 
 your friends, too!" "What, do you think I've really killed 
 him ! " exclaimed the victor, beginning to look very bad. " Look 
 at him !" was the almost sobbing answer, "but it could'nt be 
 helped, and all you have to do is to travel, for the pistol shots 
 were loud, and the police will be here in two minutes." "But 
 where shall I go ?" hurriedly asked the now alarmed victor. 
 Pie was told to run and hide himself in a certain. yard not far 
 from the pistol gallery. He started and ran like a quarter 
 nag; turned suddenly and ran to the fence for his coat; and 
 then traveled most beautifully for the indicated hiding place. 
 He took a bee-line so straight, that when he came to a little 
 ba3-ou, over which there was a bridge not a dozen yards from 
 his line of flight, he plunged throiigh the mud and water of 
 the bayou, nearly waist deep ! He scooted ahead, however, 
 and was soon hidden in the yard to which he had been 
 directed. 
 
 In a short time the party came along, supporting the luck- 
 less duelist, who it appeared had not been killed, but only 
 dangerously wounded. His side was very bloody, and he 
 groaned, as if in much pain. All this the victor saw from his 
 hiding place. He was glad to find he had'nt killed his man 
 
36 
 
 CRESOENT-SHINE. 
 
 outright, but still laid low, thinking the police might be trouble- 
 some or impertinent. 
 
 The wounded man was taken to a restaurant, to be put to 
 bed to wait for the next train of cars. The party then sought 
 out the victor in his hiding place, and told him not to be 
 uneasy, and to come out; that his adversary was not in a bad 
 way, the bullet having flattened itself on one of his ribs and 
 glanced round, knocking the breath out of him for the time, 
 but only making a flesh v/ound which would heal up in a week 
 or so. With this they exhibited the flattened bullet, which 
 they said had been found just under the skin near the back. 
 The victor expressed his gratification to find the case was no 
 worse; and being now in a generous flow of feeling, expressed 
 his readiness to stand the breakfast. All hands went to 
 Miguel's — that is, all exce]3t the wounded man and his chief 
 friend, who were abeady in an adjacent room thereof, waiting 
 for the cars — and luxuriated in all the fish and other good 
 things for which Miguel's is so famous. The bill was rather 
 heavy; amounting to more than the victor had in his fob just 
 then; but others went his security, and Miguel willingly trusted 
 him for the rest. The party came to town in good time ; and 
 the day after, we were assui'ed, the victor still believed that he 
 had winged his man. 
 
 Unluckily, there were two little things he didn't know, 
 to-wit : that as the seconds measured off the ground, with 
 their loaded pistols in hand, they slipped said pistols under 
 their coats and drew a precisely similar pair, previously 
 charged v/ith powder only; and that whilst he was breakfast- 
 ing his friends, his wounded enemy was enjoying a part of the 
 same breakfast in another room at his expense. 
 
 A LEAIDER 
 
 Johnny Mac is a biick, but too good a one to sink in such 
 a thing as the turbid Mississippi. He had a rich bathing 
 adventure one night last week. He is mate of a steamboat, 
 then tied up on the other side of the river, opposite the upper 
 part of the upper steamboat landing. Feeling rather hot, he 
 proposed to a companion that they should take a swim. Both 
 stripped, and in they plunged. The night was quite dark, and 
 they could'nt see each other at any distance. 
 
A. lxh^x^istder. 37 
 
 After swimming out a little piece, Jolmny's friend found the 
 current too strong, and knew also tliat the current ran diago- 
 nally from that point to a lower point on this side of the river. 
 Says he, "Johnny, I think the current's too strong; we'd bet- 
 ter go back." "Not for me, it ain't," answered Johnny; "I'm 
 going out further." The other put back, and found the cur- 
 rent so strong that he was barely able to effect a landing. 
 Getting aboard the boat again, and proceeding to dress, he 
 shouted for Johnny. He received no answer. Alarmed, he 
 spread the news; several yawls were manned, and quite a crowd 
 rowed about the river in the dark, shouting for Johnny. Not 
 finding him or getting any resjoonse from him, they concluded 
 he had gone to his last account; ail except one, who knew him 
 well, and said he v>\as too good a water dog to go of£ in that 
 sort of a way. 
 
 Afterward, several of the party v^^ere at the Second District 
 ferry landing, on the Algiers side, w^here they heard something 
 about an exciting chase after a naked man, in the mud under 
 the levee platform, near the ferry landing on this side of the 
 river, and of his final capture and conveyance to the Second 
 District lock-up. Suspecting this hero to be the missing- 
 Johnny, they came across. They went to the lock-up, were 
 admitted to the cells, and there, sure enough, found their 
 friend. He was walldng up and down his cell, in a state of 
 nature, fiercely slapping the mosquitoes, and swearing most 
 awfully about some Dagoes and Frenchmen he seemed to have 
 met in his travels. He was released on the explanation of his 
 friends, one of whom was Captain of the boat, v/as provided 
 with a shirt and pair of pants, and taken back to Algiers. 
 His friends laughed immoderately at his adventure; but he 
 could'nt join them, his ill-humor did'nt leave him that night. 
 
 His story was, that after leaving his companion, to swim 
 further out in the current, he did find the current rather too 
 strong, and on turning to swim back, he found himself unequal 
 to the task. He then made up his mind to swim easily with 
 the current, and land where it might permit him. It brought 
 him over to this side, and he landed and waded out near the 
 ferry landing by the market. He unluckily struck the spot 
 where the Spaniards moor their fruit and fishing smacks; and 
 those gentlemen, seeing a man come out that they had'nt seen 
 go in, thought it suspicious. They hailed him, and as his 
 answers were not only unsatisfactory, but impudent, they took 
 after him. He ran along under the platform in the dark, some- 
 times up to his middle in the mud, and at others barking his 
 shins over beams and cutting his feet on shells, and other such 
 
38 
 
 CRESCElSrT-SIilNE:. 
 
 pleasant helps to a barefooted race. Others joined the hue- 
 and-cry, and at last Johnny was caught, brought up above in 
 the gas-light, handed over to the police, and marched naked 
 to the loch-up. His story that his clothes were on a steamboat 
 across the river, above Algiers, was not credited ; and he was 
 locked up as a dangerous and suspicious;;character. 
 
 It will be sometime before Johnny again as innocently trusts 
 himself to the treacherous current of the muddy Mississij^pi. 
 His swim was nearly two miles. He is rather a portly man, over 
 fifty years of age. He stated that when he landed and waded 
 out, it v>^as his intention to walk up the levee to Jefferson City 
 or CarroUton, to take a slanting swim for the steamboat he had 
 left; the night being dark, no ladies about, and he never 
 dreaming that he was destined to the interruption which met 
 him and gave such a turn to his adventure. 
 
 Though he was arrested as dangerous and suspicious, the 
 police did not knov»" him to be such, and so the charge entered 
 against him on the policebook, was this : "Arrested by Lee, on 
 the levee, at half -past eight o'clock, for being naked, and expos- 
 ing his person ! " 
 
 THE BAKERS' HOP. 
 
 Passing by the the New Lusitanos Hall in the Third District, 
 on Monday night, hghts and the sound of merry music and 
 the pattermg of feet, induced us to stop and drop in. We 
 found as gay a Teutonic assemblage as we had seen in a long 
 time. It was the hall of the Bakers' Society, included the 
 flower of the German population down town, and was leavened 
 by a spirit of the highest enjoyment. The gentlemen were all 
 well-bred, and none of them crusty; not a dou'gh-lfiil counte- 
 'Uance was to be seen; and whilst so many loaf-makers were 
 present there wasn't a solitary loafer. The ladies looked as 
 sweet as molasses pound-cake, sprinkled over with white sugar, 
 whilst their children were as shiny and pretty as pretsels. 
 Several of the gentlemen were in high humor, and all the time 
 cracking jokes. These we set down as the crackers; though, 
 when they got after the lager, 'twas \evj plain they were not 
 water crackers. And so the fun sped, as each fleeting hour 
 added shortening to the night, till the day-god began to rise m 
 the yeast, and put an end to the hapx^y ferment, this delight- 
 fulest of Bakers' hops. One man,^ on leaving, looked up at 
 the sky, and said, " So, day; best quit ! " [Soda biscuit.] 
 
STRANGE GHOSTS IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE. 
 
 Of course everybod}^ in town lias seen tlie ruined and isolated 
 old Spanish mansion, which stands by itself in the midst of a 
 large square of ground at the corner of Tchoupitoulas and 
 Washington streets; and everybody, more or less, has read 
 some of the various sketches and novelettes, which the appear- 
 ance and history of the old ruin have evoked from the brains 
 and pens of some of our local poets and fanciful sketch-writers. 
 The building has for years done earthly service enough in 
 affording shelter to cows and Irish washer-women in its lov\"er 
 part, and to bats and drunken vagrants in its upper part. All 
 sorts of an institution is this " haimted house," to begin wdth. 
 
 On Saturday night last, the house was haunted by several 
 ghosts in the most extraordinary manner. Whether the two 
 principal ghosts had formerly inhabited the place, and knew 
 more of it than the common run of ghosts, or whether they 
 had been drawn to the spot by the reading of " The Haunted 
 House, b}' Charles Howard," is a question which must forever 
 remain unsettled. 
 
 The third, or insignificant ghost, v>^as the first to appear in 
 the haunted house on Saturday night last. He is w^ell known, 
 in the fiesh, to most people in the Fourth District; a ghost 
 very fond of the coffee-houses; somewhat addicted to taking 
 too many flies in his lemonade, and very fond of sleeping off 
 his" hquor in the old haunted house, because it is quiet, well 
 ventilated, and rent free. 
 
 Toward midnight this ghost had snored off so much of his 
 alcohol, that a subdued sort of noise in the lovv^er story put an 
 end to his slumber. Startled, he rose cautiously and went to the 
 old ricket}^ stairvfay, from beneath which he could see the light 
 of flickering candles, and hear a sound as of men delving 
 deeply into the bowels of the earth. His curiosity tempted him 
 to steal down far enough to lean over and peep under the stau'- 
 way. He looked, and he saw, to his great horror, two of the most 
 terrible ghosts that could have possibly appeared to him. He 
 recogTiized them as powerful police ghosts, who would be sure 
 to seize him and spuit him away to the lock-up, if they caught 
 him there, peering in upon their privacy. He remamed long 
 enough to see what they were doing. 
 
 In their shirt sleeves, with mattock and shovel, digging 
 deeply into the earth, by the pale light of the candles, the two 
 ghosts bore a very strong resemblance to ordinary Irish 
 laborers; only their faces betrayed them to the scared ghost 
 
40 
 
 CHESCEISi-T-SIIINE. 
 
 M 
 
 on tlie stairway as the well-linown police ghosts, Sergeant 
 Hagar and officer Sam Caldwell, the latter once Lieutenant of 
 Police in that end of the town. They were working silently, 
 but like Trojans. The ghost on the stairway, fearful of detec- 
 tion, began stealing np again; but, horror! he was discovered 
 and recognized ! " Damn yon," said one of the ghosts to him, 
 "if you blow about this, I'll murder you ! " Frightened enough, 
 he did not attempt to leave the building, but slunk back into 
 his dark corner up stairs and laid down, though, as a matter of 
 course, he did not sleep. 
 
 The ghosts below worked on till nearly daylight, when they 
 stopped, and departed with theii- mattocks and shovels. The 
 up stairs ghost afterward left, but not without taking a cautious 
 look to see what the other ghosts had done. They had dug a 
 hole, or well, eight or ten feet deep, and three or four feet 
 wide; a job which kept them hard at work during the greater 
 part of the night. 
 
 The up stairs ghost could not keep still about the matter, 
 though he died for it. He blabbed; and soon the facts of the 
 case were public, that the other ghosts, Hagar and Caldwell, 
 had dug the hole in expectation of finding a fortune of gold or 
 other treasure, which they had their own reasons for believing 
 was buried in the earth, just beneath the old stairway. The 
 story of the recreant ghost is verified well enough by the big 
 pit under the stah'way, and the freshly-dug dirt heax^ed around. 
 Some of the dirt has been carried out into daylight by enthu- 
 siastic visitors, and carefully examined; but neither gold dust, 
 diamonds, nor doubloons, have been found. 
 
 Any one feehng like buying stock in the Haunted House 
 Placer, or gold diggings, can procure shares very cheap by 
 application to Messrs. Hagar and Caldwell, who have staked 
 off the claim and estabhshed squatter sovereignty over it. 
 Their terms will be, -.in fact, unusually liberal; for though they 
 are good diggers, they are not Digger Indians. 
 
THE FIREMAN. 
 
 The Fireman is a lively boy, 
 
 The boy that taketh delight 
 In running with the ghj machine 
 
 At all times, day and night. 
 He hath a place at which he lives, 
 
 A place at which he works ; 
 ' Twixt private toil and fire's turmoil 
 
 He getteth along by jerks. 
 
 Though twenty fires take place by day, 
 And he getteth at last to bed, 
 
 If other fires blaze out at night, 
 He careth never a "red;" 
 
 His ears are things that never sleep ; 
 His legs do never tire ; 
 
 Of all live things the liveliest thing- 
 Is a fireman when there's fire ! 
 
 Just let the bells at midnight toll, 
 
 And watchmen's rattles fret; 
 Then watch the house v/here a fireman lives, 
 
 And see that fireman get! 
 He diveth into his fiannel shirt. 
 
 He jumpeth into his boots. 
 And buttoneth up and belteth him up. 
 
 As do^Ti the street he scoots ! 
 
 He taketh the pii3e if ho be first. 
 
 If not, he mounteth the brakes; 
 Yv^hichever he doth, just bet your life 
 
 He's bound to " vfaks the sna,kes!" 
 The lofty ladder he loveth to climb, 
 
 The raging flames to dare; 
 He seemeth fire-proof as on the roof 
 
 He gioweth amid the glare ! 
 
 How bravely he smasheth the windows in. 
 
 With that a,lmighty ax; 
 How madly he teareth the fences down, 
 
 The stubbori! flames to flax ! 
 Just see him in that smoky room, 
 
 Where things are smoking hot; 
 How vrell he moveth the furniture, 
 
 Whether rent be paid or not ! 
 
 He grappleth upon what first is near, 
 
 Of traps and family stock, 
 And saveth, v/ith equal tenderness, 
 
 The baby or the clock; 
 But when it cometh to bigger things, 
 
 The thing is not so slovv'; 
 Just see them fly fi-om the windows high — • 
 
 Good friends, look out b6low ! 
 
42 CRESCENT-SHIT^E. 
 
 Or in the street, when water's short, 
 
 And the boys begin to mutter. 
 How nicely he teareth the pavement up. 
 
 And worketh to flood the gutter ! 
 With beds and bricks the muddy tide 
 
 He dammeth with all his might, • 
 
 And dammeth as well the lazy swells 
 
 Who feast upon the sight ! 
 
 He danceth upon the hot-house top. 
 
 He splurgeth around the street, 
 Nor mud nor water, nor fire nor smoke, 
 
 His courage may defeat; 
 He loseth his rest, he risketh his life. 
 
 Without a thought of pelf. 
 And bravely sticks to the burning bricks, 
 
 For he's a brick himself! 
 
 And when, at last, the fire is out, 
 
 And he doth homeward go. 
 With the boys he singeth, as others sung, 
 
 "A hundred years ago; " 
 Eough and free, full of glee. 
 
 Some saints affect to flout him ; 
 But when they're scorched by the fire-god's torch, 
 
 What would they do without him ? 
 
 HOW TEXAS LOST HIS WATCH. 
 
 Texas, as most people know, is the fat and funny darkey wlio 
 belongs to the city, and acts as porter to the First District 
 Eecorder's office and lockup. Ask Texas any day how his mas- 
 ter is, he will answer, "All I's seen of him is well, sir." The 
 Council makes him a monthly appropriation to pay his board; 
 and as his situation about the Hall is an easy one, he has 
 plenty of time to loaf around, and makes his money by doing 
 odd jobs for any one who wants him. 
 
 Friday night, two weeks ago, whilst the Grailhe mass meet- 
 ing was in progress at Odd Fellows' Hall, Texas was beaten 
 out of his watch in the most cruel manner imaginable. It is 
 worth a dollar any time to hear Texas tell the story; and as 
 nearly as we can, we shall tell it for him, in his own language : 
 
 " I was standin' on Laf'yet squar, lookin' at 'em shootin' off 
 de rockets and bustin de bombs out of de big thing dey had 
 dar. A gentleman comes up to me and says, ' Good evenin', 
 uncle.' I says, good evenin', sar. He says, 'Wouldn't you 
 like to make tree or- four dollars to-night ?' I tole him yes. 
 
HOAV TEX^^JS LOST HIS TV'-^TCII 43 
 
 didn't mind if I did, as money was rather hard to git at dese 
 times, and I'd like to make tree or four dollars, if it was possi- 
 ble. He says it's very possible, if I'll do what he wants. I 
 says I will, providiii' it don't get me into no difficulty. He 
 says never you fear, I's 'sponsible, and it won't git you into no 
 difficulty. I says very well den. 
 
 "He told me to follow him, and we started up towntogeder. 
 He saj's to me, 'Look hea, now Texas, dis is what I wants you 
 to do. A lady has sent me a note to come and see her to-night 
 wile her husband's away; he can't git home some time yit, for 
 he's makin' one of de speeches at Odd Fella's Hall, and I's no 
 time to lose. I's goin' in de back way, and de ole man goes 
 in de back way, too; .:ind I want you to stand at de corner of 
 de alley, and look u}) and down street afta I goes in, and if 
 you sees de ole man comin', you run to de gate, and clap your 
 hand and cough.' I says, how I gwine to know de ole man ? 
 He says, ' He's a ole man dat's lame, and limps, and walks wid 
 a big stick, so,' and he show'd me how de ole man walked. 
 Says he, "You can't help know him if becomes, and if he 
 does, you run to the gate, and clap your hand and cough, and 
 den run out de oder end of de alley." 
 
 "He says to me, 'Don't you know me, Texas?' I says I 
 don't know as I does. He says, ' Why, you ought to know 
 me, as everybody about de City Hall does; I's Mr. Stark, de 
 cotton broka, and my office is on Carondelet street, near 
 Common.' He went on a talkin' to me, and at last he axes me 
 if I knows how to manage bosses, and can drive a carriage. I 
 toie him I 'lowed I had some 'sperience dat way. He then tole 
 me he live up town, but his family was gone ova de lake, and 
 his carriage driva had run off and he could't ketch him, and he 
 wanted some one dat understood bosses to hitch 'em up and 
 drive 'em every day, for exacise; dar was no nobody at the 
 house but a few servants, and none of dem could take de 
 bosses out; he said dey was blooded bosses, and wanted a 
 mighty good and earful driva, and he tole me he'd pay me 
 well if he found out I was a good driva. Of cou'se I jump at 
 de chance, and make de bargain to drive de bosses out. 
 
 "We went on up and turned into St. Joseph street; and 
 when was passin on, he says, ' Dat's Cap'n AValton's house, 
 ain't it.' 'I says yes, b'lieve it is.' He said he didn't want 
 the Capt'n to see him in dat neighbahood, and he didn't go by 
 de house. He turns up an sllej, and tell me to follow. Dar's 
 two alleys runs through the squar, and den dar's a little short 
 alley between the oder alleys, so you can dodge any way you 
 wants to. He goes up de alley till he gets to de little alley, 
 
u 
 
 CltESCETsTT-SIilNE. 
 
 'whar clar's a gate, jus at cle corna. He says, ' Sh-h, Texas, dis 
 is de place; I gwine in at dis gate; look here, and see/ I 
 looks tliroiigh de crack of de fence and I sees a room all lit up, 
 but I doesn't see anybody in it. He whispers mighty low, and 
 says, 'Now mind what J. tell you Texas; dat's de room whar de 
 lady's a v/aitin, and I's got jus five minute to stay. You go to 
 de corna and watch mighty sharp for de oie man, and if you 
 sees him comin, you come to cle gate and cough, and clap your 
 hand, and go out de oder Y/ay. Mind what I tells you now,' 
 he says, Til play h — -i with you if you fools me.' I says, all 
 right, massa, I won't fool you if 3-0U doesn't fool me. 
 
 " Jus as I starfc for de corna, he says he has only five minute 
 to stay by de watch; he pull out his watch and looks at it, and 
 he says, 'damn it, my watch is stopped; Texas, you lend me 
 your watch till I come out, or if you don't see me agin, you 
 call at de office in de mornin, and I'll giye you de watch and 
 de money both.' I give him my watch, and he wraps de chain 
 around it and puts it in his pocket; den he says ' sh-h ! ' agin, 
 and whispers to me to stand at de corna, and be shua to give de 
 signal when I sees de ole man limpin along. 
 
 "Wen I left him, he looks at me, like he was 'f raid I fool 
 him, and I look at him. All at once I felt de wool on de mid- 
 dle of my head rose right up; dat's a shu sign somethin's 
 wrong. I says to myself, maybe dat man's a foolin me afta all; 
 but he was such a gentleman I could'nt help b'hevin him; he 
 was dressed so fashionable, and tallied so nice and purty. I 
 went to de cona and watched long time, but neva saw nary ole 
 man. I went u^^ de alley to de gate, and it was open. I did'nt 
 see my man, and his five minute done gone long ago. I was 
 fraid to go in de yard; but I stays outside, and gives de signal, 
 mighty low. I claps my hand and coughs a little louda. I 
 waits av/hile, den 1 claps my hand and coughs, ' A ham-m ! ' 
 jus as loud as I could. I staid dar 'bout half an hour; den I 
 says to myself ' dat damn rascal cheat me out of de money 
 and de v/atch both, and I goes home. 
 
 " Nex day I thinksmay|be he did'nt cheat me, but got scar'd, 
 and had to leave de house some otha way, and might be gen- 
 tleman afta alj. So I goes to Massa Stark's office, and sees 
 him, and axes him p'litely for de watch and de money. You 
 jus ought to seen dat man rar. He jump up and cuss, and 
 say he give a hundrred dolla to lay his eyes on de man dat had 
 been passin hisself off for him, and cheatin de niggas out of 
 dar watches. I backs out mity quick, I tells you. De man 
 dat fooled me, I did'nt look at him close enough to know him 
 
HOTV^ TEXLA.S LOST tllS AV^TCH. 
 
 45 
 
 if I see him again, and I coiilcl'nt tell ^vlielha it was Massa 
 Stark or not. 
 
 "While I was talkin to Massa Stark, I sees a nigga at de 
 do' lookin at me side^vays and kind o' funny; dat big nigga 
 Jim, dat stays at de Gas House. I feels afraid of dat nigga, 
 and I does'nt know why; he look at me so. When I goes out, 
 he winks at me and motion vvith his finga for me to go to him. 
 We goes off a little peace, and he puts his mouth to my year 
 and says, 'Bet you iiye dolla I knov^s wha' you was fooled at I' 
 I did'nt want to let on at fast dat I was fooled, but afta while 
 I conclude to acknov,^ledge and tell all 'bout it. 
 
 "Dat dam rascal fool eyer so many niggars out of dar 
 watches, and at de very same place, and send 'em all to Massa 
 Stark to get dar watches back and de money he 'greed to pay. 
 Jim was de sharpest, though; he fooled Jim about de money 
 but did'nt get his watch. Dat man ain't no'NcYf Orleans thief; 
 he plays dirty mean New York tricks; no New Orleans thief 
 rob a niggar." 
 
 This narrative of Texas has been amply yeriiied by the 
 pohce. The sharper has been earnestly sought after, but to 
 no purpose. 
 
 A GOOD JOKE 
 
 Two strong Bell and Everett men, on. Monday, rode about 
 in a cab, to see how the election v^ent for Tom Adams, the Bell 
 candidate for the Legislature, in the Fourth Ward. In the 
 evening, the nev/s that Tom was elected by a triumphant 
 majority elevated them to the glorious pitch; and, hearing that 
 Tom was to be serenaded by the Bunker Hill Bangers, they 
 started in their cab to be in at the serenade. As they halted 
 on Boyal street for some purpose or another, a boy ran up and 
 shouted, "Here's yer Bell and Everett flags! Buy a flag, 
 mister!" "How do you sell 'em?" asked one of the gentle- 
 men. "Four bits apiece!" "Give us two." A dollar was 
 shelled out, and then the happy possessors of the flags went 
 flying in their cab out to .jCustomhouse street, waving their 
 flags outside and hurraing for Tom Adams. Soon they 
 reached Mr. Adams' residence, where the Bunker Hill Cktb, 
 with their music and all their lights were letting forth their 
 glorious serenade. As the cab drove up, our friends announced 
 
46 
 
 CK.ESCENT-SI-IIIN'E. 
 
 their arrival by extra loud shouts for Tom Adams, and "one 
 grand flourish " of their flags. Some of the chib responded 
 to the hurrah and a crowd collected around the cab to see 
 who the new patriots were. "H — 111" exclaimed one man, 
 "here's two BrecJcinridge men shouting for Tom Adams!" 
 "What!" "No!" "Yes!" "It can't be!" " I tell you it is 
 • so ! " "Who are they ? " And the crowd closed in around the 
 cab, puzzled and greatly astonished. 
 
 " Hello ! why it's B and C , of our party," shouted 
 
 one. "It is?" exclaimed another; "then what the devil are 
 they waving Breckinridge flags for ?" "' Breckinridge flags! " 
 ejacutated one of the gentlemen in the cab, as he jumped out 
 and examined the inscription on his flag by the torch-lights. 
 " Sold by jeminy ! " he exclaimed, as he tore up his flag, his 
 friend quietly disposing of his in the same patriotic manner. 
 " Damn that boy! " said one; and the two sold ones had to join 
 in one of the heartiest and longest roars of laughter ever heard 
 in that usually quiet part of the city. It was decidedly a rich 
 thing to see two of the strongest Bell and Everett patriots in 
 New Orleans tearing down street in a cab, shouting for Tom 
 Adams and vf aving Breckinridge flags. 
 
 FftEAKS OF THE FOG. 
 
 Many people about town, and especially the firemen, know 
 that there was a big alarm of fire night before last, about the 
 "witching hour." The big bell of St. Patrick's, (unmistakable 
 bell) clanged out its sonorous alarum to the night; and all the 
 other bells, big bells, middle-sized bells, little bells, cracked 
 bells, and all, joining in the bell-igerent chorus, startled the 
 town with visions of flaming houses, wet dry goods, and 
 smashed furniture; even the heavenly slumbers of the crinoline 
 belles were disturbed, and many of them, as they sprang en 
 dishabille to window and balcony, rang out with their musical 
 httle clappers, "Where's the fire?" In short, there never was 
 a merrier or more starting 
 
 " Tintinabulatiou of the belk, 
 • The bells, bells, bells ! " 
 
 It happened, however, that there was no fire; and this 
 reporter, discovering the fact, took the trouble to ascertain the 
 
FREAKS OIP ^ FOG-* 47 
 
 cause of tlie alarm. The niglit was magnificent, witli its clear, 
 balmy atmosphere, and the bright full moon at the zenith. 
 Passing down thrcfugh the Second District, and when near St. 
 Louis street, we found a conglomeration of healthy gentlemen 
 in boots and red shirts, with their " masheens " standing idle 
 around. Some had run down town, some had run up town ; 
 and there they stood, their cocked ears attending to the dis- 
 cordant bells, and their wide-awake eyes eagerly scanning the 
 sky. "We heard something of their debate, on this momentous 
 question : " Is that smoke, or if not, what is it ?" "We took a 
 look upward, and saw a whitish, opaque stream of something, 
 narrow but distinct, floating perceptibly from riyerward to 
 swampward. It was so distinct, and moved in such a current 
 across the clear blue of the sky, that we ejaculated " smoke ! " 
 and started for the levee. Many of the firemen started in the 
 same direction. Arrived at the levee, we found quite a crowd 
 there about the foot of St. Louis street. All had gone there 
 under the same delusion, and all had come to the conclusion 
 that there was no fire. The thing was understood. Algiers 
 was invisible; the river had hidden itself in a heavy mantle of 
 fog, and a strong current of air had carried with it enough of 
 the vapor to offer, in the bright moonhght, a very good sem- 
 blance to smoke. 
 
 A similar delusion distracted some of the firemen up town. 
 The alarm spread terrific enough, that the grand old building 
 from whose tower the chief alarm proceeded, was itself on fire. 
 The firemen were speedily there, and their machines unhmbered 
 and ready for action in a jiffy. There was the smoke, curling 
 around the tower and rising slowly upward; visible as need 
 be, but without perceptible origin. Thinking that it might not 
 be necessary to throw water all the way to the top of the tower, 
 (height something over or under two hundred feet) some of 
 the jolly joskins in red shirts penetrated it, ramified it, 
 returned, and reported no fire. Upon this, one fireman 
 observed, " "Well, I thought it was no fire; it was only old St. 
 Patrick taking a smoke ! " 
 
 It was nothing but a current of fog-laden air from the river, 
 which, floating against the tower, gave it for the time an 
 appearance of smoke outside, and of suppositious fire inside. 
 
 The wild alarm of St. Patrick's bell, which set the firemen 
 wild, was, as we learn, tolled forth by priestly hands. Two of 
 the engines had commenced raising their streams, when one of 
 the red-shirted ramifiers, looking over from the top of Hhe 
 tower, shouted down that there was no fire, and that they had 
 better stop their water. The racket on teiTa firma rendered 
 
48 
 
 cresceistt-si-iiin-it:. 
 
 his words indistinct, whilst his form and &antic gestures were 
 very distinct in the broad moonhght. The idea spread electri- 
 cally that there was fire beneath him, and that he would have 
 to roast or jump. The hair of ail that part of town stood on 
 end, and hearts generally ceased their beating. But the foggy 
 mysterj^ was soon solved, and all went home happy to think 
 that the sacred tower vfas unscathed by fire, and the frantic 
 firemen unmasked by jumping. 
 
 EXECUTION OF MATHEW HUGHES. 
 
 Ex-police of&cer Matliew ITughes, who shot Henry Hyams 
 on the evening of the 8th of November last, at the door-step 
 of Hyams' boarding house, on Rampart street, near Girod 
 street, was executed yesterday at about eleven o'clock, within 
 the walls of the Parish Prison. Hughes, at the time, was 
 laboring under the double excitement of a late election and of 
 liquor; and in company vfith a young man named George 
 ¥/oifi*, sought a difficulty vdth Hyams and his friends, because 
 they, or one of them, had hurrahed for Tom Parker. Wolff 
 struck one of the party, and drew his pistol upon him; none 
 of the party quarreled back or resented the affronts offered; 
 and as Hyams turned to run into his house, he was shot in 
 the back by Hughes, and fell dead. 
 
 Hughes, though an officer, v/as not on duty that night. The 
 Chief of Police had previously met him, 0;nd seeing that he 
 was intoxicated, advised him to go home. This he promised 
 to do; but falling in with others, and drinking more liquor, 
 on the v/ay home, he was led to the commission of the act 
 which cost him his life. He v.^as a medium-sized man, of 
 light complexion and rather handsome f captures; a native of 
 this city, twenty-seven years of age. Pie was well-known 
 throughout this city, and by many as an excellent fife-player, 
 he having at one time followed public fife-playing for his 
 living. He was generally liked for his mild and kind disposi- 
 tion, but was known to be desperate and insanely reckless 
 when in licfuor. 
 
 From the time7of his r;ontence to death, Plughes prepared 
 himself for his fate, and soon became reccmciiedto it,wilhngly 
 deceiving and profiting by the pious ministrations of the Rev. 
 Father JDufau. He long ago declared his intention of dying 
 like a man and a Christian. Eis fife, the pet companion of 
 
execxjtiojs- of m:^tiiew pixjg^hes. 
 
 49 
 
 liis happier days, was permitted to him in prison, and he 
 played upon it frequent^ and merrily for the entertainment of 
 himself and his few companions in the condemned cells. 
 
 The following letter, addressed to the Chief of Police, shows 
 truly the state of the young man's mind several daj^s before his 
 death. He did not write it himself, but dictated the entire 
 substance of it to a friend, who did the writincf for him : 
 
 Paeish Peison, Condemned Cell, 
 June U, 1860. 
 Thos. E. Adams, Esq., Chief of Police: 
 
 Bear Sir — I have been condemned to death for the unprovoked murder 
 of 3'oung Hyams. Before I die I desire to state facts connected with his 
 death — not to endeavor to extenuate my guilt, but that I may not appear 
 to the public as more of a criminal than I am. 
 
 You will remember meeting me on St. Charles street on the afternoon 
 of the day that Hyams was killed. You saw that I was drinking and 
 ordered me home. I started with the full intention of going home and 
 
 remaining; but on my way I fell in with officer , who induced me 
 
 to take another drink, and from whom I borrowed a revolver but with no 
 intention of harming any one. Soon after this, I fell in with Wolff, who 
 had also been drinking, and we started to go on a frolic together. We 
 came to the door where Hyams and the two other young men were sitting, 
 when Wolft' commenced quarreling with them, and slapped one in the 
 face. He drew his pistol, but afterward j)ut it back without lii-ing. When 
 I came ujd, after the oflicer had spoken to me, I drew my pistol, when 
 Hyams turned to go into the house; then I fired my pistol, but with no 
 intention of hitting him, but merely to frighten him. I then ran, in 
 order to avoid the officer, and did not think I had hurt Hyams until I was 
 arrested and told by the oflicer what I had done. 
 
 For this crime I have had a fair trial, been convicted, and to-morrow 
 morning I am to be hung. 
 
 I acknowledge the justice of my sentence, and that I merit my punish- 
 ment. 
 
 I can do nothing now to atone for the terrible injury I have done to the 
 family and friends of poor Hyams; but while I stand hovering over my 
 grave, within but a few short hours of eternity, and by a terrible and 
 ignominious death, I beg of them to find some pity in their hearts for me, 
 and, if they can, forgive me. 
 
 They can never know how earnestly — when alone in my dreary cell — I 
 have prayed God to forgive me for my crime, and how I have besought 
 Him for the rest and eternal peace of him whom I have slain, nor how 
 willingly I would walk to the gallows to-morrow, could my death restore 
 him to life. 
 
 I am not a hardened criminal — this was my first offense — and had I not 
 been deeply intoxicated, I should never have committed it. For this I 
 trust the loublic will look with all the leniency they can upon my case 
 when I am dead, and not regard me as one who took the life of a fellow- 
 being merely to gratify a fiendish passion or a depraved heart. 
 
 I feel that I have forfeited my life to the law, and am contented to die; 
 and I hope that, aided by all the consolations of religion, to die like a 
 man, heart-broken and penitent for his sins, yet trusting through a merci- 
 ful Saviour for a happy and peaceful hereafter. 
 
 It has given me great pleasure, in this time of my extremity, to know 
 7 
 
50 
 
 CRESOElNrT-SHIlNrE. 
 
 from you that my brother-officers who have served with me so long under 
 you, have not entirely forgotten me, but have complied with the last wish 
 I can make of them, to give my body a decent and Christian burial. May 
 they never know the terrible bitterness of an end like mine, and may my 
 unhappy fate be a warning to them to forever shun the degrading habit of 
 intoxication, which has brought me, so early, to an ignominious death. 
 
 To yourself, Captain Fremeaux, and all the officers of the prison, to Mr. 
 Dufour, my counsel, and to all others who have shown me kindness, with 
 a heart filled with gratitude, I bid you all an eternal farewell. My obliga- 
 tions to Father Dufau and others who have labored so kindly to prepare 
 me for death, cannot be expressed in words. May their reward come from 
 Heaven, where I fondly hope to meet you all hereafter. Give my body to 
 my dear wife, and let it be interred in the Fourth District Catholic Ceme- 
 tery, where she may sometimes come and weep over the grave of her 
 misguided and unfortunate husband. II^Iathew Hughes. 
 
 On Thursday niglit, the doomed man dictated another letter, 
 to be given to the newspaper reporters for publication. It 
 was as follows: 
 
 Paeish Peison, New Orleans, ) 
 June 14, 1860. [ 
 
 The privilege of a man in my position to speak a few parting words 
 from the scaffold I have waived for a brief address, which, through some 
 friends of mine, will be given to the public, after I shall have suffered the 
 last penalty of the law. 
 
 Unfettered by the empty formalities of the world, now fast receding, I 
 address myself, as I trust, in a Christian spirit suited for the occasion, first 
 to you, my fellow-men and citizens, amongst whom I have been born and 
 raised, and to ask your pardon for the humiliation and disgrace brought 
 upon your city by one of its sons, who as a man and boy looked with 
 pride upon his native place, but who, deluded by its attractions, led by 
 its diversions, forfeited his inheritance to its lawful enjoyments, and who, 
 by his fall, detracted and lowered its fair fame. This pardon I feel assured 
 you will grant me, when I am about to atone with my life for the crime 
 which has been committed in your midst, while I offer my last prayers for 
 the future prosperity and welfare of your beautiful cit}'" ! 
 
 The particulars of my crime are too generally known to require a repe- 
 tition of the circumstances. It is sufficient to say that I committed a 
 murder vcMle under an extraordinary excitement of the loorst passions, at the 
 momentary impulse of a frenzied brain. Into this disgraceful state I had 
 wrought myself by my own free will; I therefore acknowledge the justice 
 of my punishment, and do not desire to shift the responsibility upon 
 others who might have incited the deed, as they encouraged the reckless 
 course followed by me of late. On the contrary, I freely forgive, as I hope 
 to be forgiven before a higher tribunal, all those through whose advice 
 and example I have been dra"\vn into those dissolute habits which would 
 have become the bane of my life, as it has been the cause of the crime for 
 which I now have to suffer. A great consolation it would be in my last 
 hour that this sacrifice of my life would prove a safeguard to the young 
 and the thoughtless, a warning to put a stop to their heedless career, and 
 a lesson that the laws of our country may not be invaded and trampled 
 upon with impunity, but that surely a day of retribution will come. Could 
 I take with me into the next world the assurance that I had caused the 
 retreat of but one soul firom the road leading to endless misery, I should 
 
EXECUTION- OE MA.THEW HUGHE??. 51 
 
 not consider my sinful life utterly spent in vain, but receive an additional 
 promise in the mercy of my Creator. 
 
 _ In addressing the parents, relatives and friends of my unfortunate 
 victim, what language can express the deep humiliation and penitence 
 which has been the growth of constant and bitter remorse from the hour 
 of the fatal deed ! Humbly I beg their pardon for the affliction this sud- 
 den bereavement of a beloved member of their family must have occa- 
 sioned, and I fervently hope that, with a Christian resignation in the loss 
 they have sustained, they will nobly and generously forgive — upon my 
 departure — the ruthless hand which has carried death and desolation into 
 their very midst ! 
 
 Another severe task remains, to give words to those keen reproaches for 
 having crushed and broken the heart of my poor wife, who affectionately 
 has clung to me through all the -^dcissitudes of my misspent life, and who 
 is doomed to drain the cup of affliction to the very dregs ! Her prayers 
 have sustained, her consolations have supported me to the very last; 
 therefore my gratitude for her invariable kindness falls short of expres- 
 sion. May God strengthen and solace her; while from the bottom of my 
 heart I ask her forgiveness for the misery I have caused, the unhappy fate 
 I have linked her to. I recommend her in this, my last hour, to those 
 noble friends who .have protected her during our separation, who will 
 kindly continue to guide and guard and keep her reputation unsullied of 
 a crime which her husband is about to expiate with his life. 
 
 Those few friends who have not deserted me in the hour of need I beg 
 to forgive the trouble and anxiety I have caused, thanking them for their 
 kind offices during my long imprisonment. Amongst these permit me to 
 particularize the officers of the Parish Prison, who, under the super- 
 intendence of Captain Fremaux, so well known for his gentlemanly 
 deportment, and generous disposition, merit my grateful 'acknowledg- 
 ment for their kind attention. Messrs. Louis Woolfero and Gabriel 
 Douvillier, with whom, through their daily attendance, I became more 
 intimately acquainted, will pardon the liberty I take with their names, as 
 the only mode to testify my deep sense of gratitude for their numerous 
 acts of kindness and devotion displayed towards me, blending their stern 
 duties with a sympathy and delicacy rarely met with in positions like 
 theirs. May Heaven bless and prosper them and all those who have kindly 
 lent their aid by instructions and praj^ers to make my peace with God, and 
 to reconcile me to my inevitable doom. 
 
 I also tender my most sincere thanks to all those persons who have 
 kindly visited me during my sojourn in prison since the time of my sen- 
 tence ; and I return thanks particularly to the two really benevolent and 
 
 charitable ladies Madames F s and B e, for their great kindness to 
 
 me, and the vast amount of spiritual consolation they liave afforded me 
 by their advice and instructions; and I beg that thej will still continue 
 to pray for my soul after I am dead, and I promise to do the same for 
 them in that other and better world, in which, through the merits of 
 Jesus Christ, I hope to live for ever. 
 
 To Him, before whose judgment seat I shall have to appear, I now 
 direct my last thoughts and prayers, and implore of the Father's unbounded 
 Mercy that Forgiveness which His Son has promised to repentant man ! 
 In this faith I die, commending my spirit into the hands of my God ! 
 Amen. Mathew Hughes. 
 
 The officer whom Hughes alluded to without naming in his 
 letter to the Chief of Pohce, as having induced him to take 
 
52 
 
 CR-ESCET^T-SHINE. 
 
 M 
 
 another drink and loaned liim his pistol, was officer Gaiennie. 
 
 Yesterday morning, one of the doomed cells being fitted up 
 into a sort of rude chapel, with an altar decorated with flowers 
 and candles, Hughes spent some time at his last devotions 
 with Father Dufau. About 10 o'clock he appeared on the 
 gallery, (which is in the third story, and enclosed with an iron 
 grating) smoking a cigar and looking down at the assembling 
 crowd in the yard, pleasantly exchanging recognitions with all 
 he knew. Some two hundred persons were admitted to the 
 yard, whilst, as usual, a great and miscellaneous crowd of 
 people collected in front of the prison, scorching and sweating 
 in the hot sunshine, without a hope of gaining admission or 
 seeing anything connected with the execution. 
 
 At about 11 o'clock, the doomed man, attended b}^ his con- 
 fessor and the officers, his hands pinioned behind, and dressed 
 neatly in white, the white death-cap on his head and a crucifix 
 suspended to his neck, walked down to the second story gal- 
 lery and out upon the fatal trap. He was as firm and cool as 
 it was possible for any man to be, his movements being firm 
 and his face calm and placid, if not pleasant-looking. The 
 death warrant was read by a deputy sheriff; the rope was put 
 over his head and drawn around his neck by the masked 
 executioner, who, however, bungled, and did not get the noose 
 properly placed until Hughes had given him rejDeated instruc- 
 tions, which he did in a manner and voice of perfect uncon- 
 cern. Then the unhappy man made a brief address to the 
 spectators. He acknowledged his guilt; expressed his readi- 
 ness for death; claimed that he had a kind heart, and did not 
 murder Hyams intentionally; stated that he had prayed many 
 times for the soul of Hyams, and hoped that those present 
 w^ould forgive him his sins, and pray for him when he was 
 gone. His voice was firm and clear, and only once was there 
 any sign of emotion in his face. 
 
 Father Dufau prayed for him, blessed him, and held up the 
 cross for him to kiss ; after that, with his eyes raised to the 
 blue sky and the bright sunshine above, he fervently recited 
 the Lord's prayer, and bovved his head in token of conclusion. 
 The grim ogre behind drew the cap over his face and retired, 
 taking the stepping board off the trap. He disappeared in 
 the cell behind; a moment of breathless suspense followed; a 
 sharp chop was heard, and the convict dangled in the air. It 
 was sixteen minutes before the physicians pronounced life 
 extinct, and gave the order to lower the body into the coffin 
 beneath. 
 
 All the prisoners were, as is the custom on such days, con- 
 
EXECUTIOIN" OF Mi^OTHE^V HXJGMIES. 53 
 
 fined in their cells dui'ing the execution, and deprived of the 
 view of it. Eugene Pepe, Antoine Cambre and the sailor 
 Powell, the three remaining occupants of the doomed cells, 
 obtained a partial -^iew of the execution, by means of a small 
 mirror, which they thrust out between the bars, and held in 
 sncli a position as to see the awful spectacle in the glass. 
 
 Hughes' wife visited him on Thursday, and their final and 
 most touching separation took place. Yesterday, about an 
 hour before the execution, she again visited the prison, and 
 weepingly begged the favor of seeing her husband once more 
 before his death. The request was kindly but firmly denied, 
 as being made too late. The unhappy woman remained in an 
 inner room until after the execution. As we subsequently 
 learned,' the fact of his wife's lisit was withheld from Hughes; 
 but about half an hour before his death, he said that he knew 
 his wife was there in the prison, and he wished to see her once 
 more before dying. Father Duf au, by the advice of the officers 
 in authority, represented the request as being made too late, 
 and that such an interview was calculated to unnerve him and 
 unfit him for the solemn scene so soon to take place. Hughes 
 represented that it would not unnerve him, and begged to see 
 his wife once more. The favor being denied with all the kind- 
 ness compatible, with the case, he resigned himself, and went 
 to his last prayers in the cell. 
 
 After the execution, the body was neatly adjusted in the 
 coffin, and all the marks of hanging removed or concealed as 
 far as possible, the face being left bare; and then the coffin was 
 laid in the lower hall of the prison. After the crowd had been 
 turned out, the vddow was escorted in by the Chief of Pohce. 
 She bent over the coffin; all others retired; and for a long 
 time her moans of agony echoed through the corridors. The 
 body was given to her. 
 
JULES DEEUX ESCAPE 
 
 A melancholy difference of opinion agitates tlie public mind 
 as to tlie manner in which Mr. Jules Dreux, of American 
 Hook and Ladder Company No. 2, saved his life at the Tchou- 
 pitoulas fire on Thursday week. The different local reporters 
 (including this one) have published accounts which vary 
 dreadfully on the exciting points, though they have managed 
 to agree in these two particulars, that Mr. Dreux was actually 
 in danger of burning to death, and that he saved his life 
 merely by the skin of his teeth. 
 
 Whilst insisting that the reports in the other papers were 
 all wrong, we are forced to admit that our own account was 
 incorrect in some important |)articulars. "We have now an 
 eye-witness, w^ho is not connected with any of the city papers, 
 and who has called upon us to publish the "true facts" of the 
 case, and set the public right on the subject. He is an honest 
 Teuton, who, whilst laboring manfully on the brakes on 
 Tchoupitoulas street, managed to see all that was going on 
 around him, above and below. We shall tell his plain unvar- 
 nished tale, as he told it to us : 
 
 Mishter Cressunt, I cooms for to see you bout der pig yump 
 of der Mishter Yulee Troo, at der pig fire on der Shopitouler 
 strasse. All der bapers vash make moosh mistakes. Der 
 Yefferson Yournal, he say Yule yump ofer der Shopitouler 
 strasse. Der Cressunt, he say Yule yump ofer der Fouche 
 strasse. Der Telter, he say Yule kooms doun der hook mit 
 ter lattey in his armsh. Der Bickayune, he say Yule kooms 
 doun on der peef parre], mit der lard fon make him kooms 
 doun shlick. Unt der Pee, he say someting bout ter peef unt 
 der lard parrels. Unt den der Drue Telter, he say Yule kooms 
 doun mit der bricks fen der vails falls. Der stories ish all 
 wrong. 
 
 I vash at der pig fire on der Shopitouler strasse, mit I vash 
 see Mishter Yule Troo fen he kooms doun. I vash run long 
 time mit der forty inchines on der Cinsnawater, unt I ish von 
 old firemen. I sees eferjding mit my eyes at der fire on Shop- 
 itouler strasse, unt all der bapers ish wrong. Der hook unt 
 latter poys vash up mit der dop of der Mishter Barnett's haus, 
 unt der haus purn unt shmoke like der tiefel. Der shmoke he 
 kooms plack unt der fire he flash to der himmel, unt der haus 
 he pegins koom donn like dunder unt blitzen. Der poys 
 kooms quick doun der hook unt latter, unt fen dey gits doun, 
 
JULES DUEXJR'S ESCAJPE. 55 
 
 dey say, jVerelisli Yule ? He die ! He purnj^up ! Poor Yule ! 
 I quits work, I? feels so pad. I knows Yule long time. He 
 von goot American poy as vash fight der villbusters, unt is 
 prave fireman too. I looks oop; der shmoke plows away fon 
 der winters; unt I see Yule in der winter, und I shout, Dere 
 ish Yule ! He no purn up ! He too goot poy for dat ! Der 
 latter yasli'^gone mit der vail ven it kooms from der top of der 
 haus. Der poys dey shout, Yump, Yule! Yump for der life, 
 unt dey hoonts peds unt soft tings for Yule ter yump on. But 
 Yule he say, Tam if I do; I git down i3oys; keep mit yer 
 shirts on, I kooms down, he say. 
 
 Den we see Yule tie der grabble rope, mit der hook, unt 
 shoot der hook across der Shopitouler strasse. Der hook, he 
 shtick injdea top of der haus, unt Yule bull der rope tight, fon 
 see vash he shtrong. He ties der rope in der winter, unt 
 shtr etches him tight. Den he takes der crow^par fon palance 
 bole^^unt he try der rope mit hish foot, for see vash he shtrong. 
 Den he palance mit der crow i3ar, unt he walk on der rope 
 hke der cii'cus man, unt kooms cross der Shopitouler strasse. 
 He makes von fine sight; ven he half way ofer, he shtop unt 
 look down. He -see der shtreams of der inchines blay up way 
 down pelow him, unt he tink of der Nicarraga; no, not das, 
 but der pig vater vails, der ]Srigarravay;-unt he shtand on von 
 foot, and he hold his hant mit his nose, so; unt he say, ah -ha, 
 Mishter^Plondin, vere ish you now ! Der fire he pegin purn 
 der rope; unt der poys shout, look out. Yule! He valk ofer 
 vast, unt yust as he make mit der top of der haus, der haus as 
 vas^burn falls bloom! unt d.er rope fails too, yust as Yule shtep 
 on der haus vat vash not purn. Der poys ketch Yule ven he 
 kooms down der shtairs in der haus vat vash not purn, unt 
 dey all takes him round der corner, unt dey all trinks swi 
 glass lager unt makes von pig fuss ail ofer. 
 
 Dish ish der true shtory, Mishter Cressunt, unt I vants you 
 make it mit der baper; Yule von goot poy; I likes Yule; and 
 I git sick mit der mishtakes in der bapers. 
 
THE TWO OMARS. 
 
 Personal resemblances are always striking; but we never 
 beard of a case of resemblance more striking in its denouement, 
 than one in which a weli-known man and an unknown man, 
 who resembled each other last evening. 
 
 Omar Richardson, the circus-rider, is known and admired 
 everywhere; particularly wherever Spalding & Eogers' star cir- 
 cus company goes. He is handsome, and his face is so well- 
 known, that whether he be performing in the ring or saunter- 
 ing along the street in his citizens' dress, everybody knows 
 him. He is well behaved, too, although he acted last evening 
 with some ugliness; an ugliness, however, v/hich will be ex- 
 cused by all readers of this when they hear the facts we have 
 to teU. 
 
 In an unlucky hour a child was born, who, upon reaching 
 manhood, appeared to be Richardson's twin brother, and to 
 many people, Richardson himself. "With further bad luck, 
 this individual grew up a loafer, or else became a loafer, on 
 reaching man's estate. He discovered that a great many peo- 
 ple mistook him for Omar Richardson, and proceeded to profit 
 thereby. 
 
 For some months past, he has been traveling either in the 
 van or in the rear of S]3alding & Rogers' circus company, 
 passing himself off as Omar ahead, or Omar behind, or Omar 
 on a spree. Everybody knows Omar to be one of Spalding & 
 Rogers' best stars, and knows that Spalding & Rogers stand 
 up to their stars with full purses at all times, whether they 
 be punctual in the ring or off on a frolic. The loafer who 
 resembled Omar found out all this, and profited accordingly. 
 
 Lately in Savannah, Georgia, he. swindled numerous people, 
 upon v/hom he passed himself as Omar on a spree, and behind 
 the comx3any. He even went so far as to "come it" over Mr. 
 Marsh, of the Marsh Troupe, whilst the troupe was there. 
 Still further than this, he married a pretty Georgia girl, upon 
 whom he passed himseK for Omar. The poor girl, infatuated 
 with the idea that she was to travel round and see the world, 
 as the wife of the great circus-rider, Omar Richardson, was 
 happy for a short time. Her husband left her. The Marsh 
 Troupe were then performing in Savannah. She, having been 
 led by her husband's talk to believe that any person or com- 
 pany having engagements with Spalding & Rogers, would be the 
 friends of any other person in the employment of said cele- 
 brated firm, called upon Mr. Marsh. He knew nothing of 
 
TPIE TWO OlVIA-IiS. 57 
 
 Omar Eicliardson, personally, or of her, and was not disposed 
 to listen to lier. 
 
 Mrs. Marsli, seeing tliat the poor girl was hastening on to 
 maternity, and believing that she was actually the wife of 
 Omar Eiehardson, interceded with Mr. Marsh, and he gave 
 her money to support herself with till the scapegrace of a hus- 
 band should return. But she never saw him again; or that, 
 at least, is the impression of those who best know. On his 
 pretence that he was Omar Richardson, the rascal swindled all 
 sorts of people in Savannah. 
 
 Since then, the people of Mobile, or a good many of them, 
 have been swindled by the same rascal in the same way. The 
 Circus Comj)any were there two weeks ago ; Omar was one of 
 the, company then and there; and the counterfeit Omar had 
 Httle trouble in gulhng the Mobilians as suited his notion. 
 
 When Mr. Marsh arrived with his troupe last week, the 
 counterfeit Omar arrived also. He bothered Marsh a great 
 deal, pretending to be Omar Richardson on a fi"olic. Marsh 
 believing him to be the genuine Omar, loaf eel around with him 
 and talked with him, but at the same time privately voted him 
 the greatest humbug and bore in Spalding & Rogers' Com- 
 pany. The genuine Omar being here with the circus company, 
 his counterfeit disclosed himself only to Marsh and some few 
 others whom he knew were not personally acquainted with 
 the genuine Omar. He played a sharp game; but it was not 
 sharp enough to last. 
 
 Wind of the counterfeit Omar's other doings in Savannah 
 and Mobile, reached Marsh here a day or two ago. The cir- 
 cus company, and Omar himself, also heard of it, and the 
 thing, as a matter of course, created some lively talk in circus- 
 circles. Omar was very naturally the most interested of all. 
 Meantime, Marsh made the acquaintance of the genuine Omar, 
 for the fii'st time. 
 
 It was generally understood about town that the circus 
 company were to leave last evening for St. Louis. It hap- 
 pened, however, that the departure was delayed one day; in 
 consequence of which Omar Richardson, Libby, Walters, 
 Villanueva, and other crack members of the crowd, were still 
 loitering about St. Charles street last evening, taking a farewell 
 view of the scenes with which they had so long been familiar. 
 Whilst they v/ere all scattered around, the counterfeit Omar 
 came along, in the blissful supposition that the genuine Omar 
 and all the crowd were safely on their way up the river. Poor 
 devil ! 
 
 He fell in with Marsh, and Marsh was delighted to see him. 
 8 
 
58 
 
 CRESCENT-SmiSrE. 
 
 Marsh loitered with him till he met the other Omar. Marsh 
 introduced the two Omars. The actual Omar fell in love with 
 the fictitious Omar, and button-holing him firmly, invited him 
 inside the Amphitheatre to have a private talk with him. The 
 rascal, terrified, offered no resistance, and went in with him. 
 It was just as the crowd were beginning to pour in, to see the 
 usual performance of the Marsh Children. 
 
 Eichardson led his prototype through the ticket-office and 
 into the room behind, which, until last week, was the sanctum 
 sanctorum of the "Daily Programme." He invited the fellow 
 to take a seat, and commenced stripping off his coat and vest. 
 At the same time, some of the other circus men, who knew 
 what was going on, appeared at the door, and one of them 
 handed Omar a cowhide, just borrowed from the Phoenix 
 coffeehouse. 
 
 "When the counterfeit Omar saw this, he commenced crying 
 and begging for mercy. Omar, the real, was inflexible. He 
 demanded of the rascal that he should write and sign a paper 
 confessing his villany. The rascal then went down on his 
 knees, and in the most piteous accents begged to be forgiven; 
 acknowledging all, but praying forgiveness, on account of his 
 father and family, who he said were respectable people of this 
 city. 
 
 Eichardson listened no longer. He went at the fellow, and 
 gave him one of the hardest and longest cowhidings that ever 
 any human received in this town. There was a jumping 
 around, and a screaming, and a general noise, in the editorial 
 room of the late "Daily Programme," which was heard by the 
 crowd outside, and created considerable wonderment and in- 
 quiry. When Omar got tired of lashing his counterfeit, he sat 
 down and rested; and then using the pen and ink left on the 
 table by the editor of the late "Daily Programme," wrote a 
 document, v^^hich the rascal was only too glad to sign, to get 
 out of that room and away from the cowhide. The following 
 is a correct copy of the document, as v/ritten by Omar and 
 signed by his counterfeit : 
 
 New Oeleans, March 17, 1859. 
 I acknowledge that at divers times and places, during the past winter, 
 I have represented my name to be Omar Bichardson — among other places, 
 at Savannah and Mobile; and whereas, Omar Eichardson, equestrian, 
 hearing of ray false assumption of his name, has cowhided me, I hereby 
 release him from any cause of action I may have against him by reason of 
 such assault and battery, and promise never again to assume his name. 
 [Signed] CHAKLES W. FOSTER. 
 
 The above being signed, the miserable wTetch' was escorted 
 
TI-IE TAVO OmiAJRS. 
 
 59 
 
 to the front door, and told to go his way and sin no more. 
 
 All we have to add is, that Marsh, Bidwell, and others, who 
 saw the counterfeit Kichardson whilst he was playing coun- 
 terfeit, assert that the resemblance between him and the genu- 
 ine Richardson is extraordinary; that not one person in a 
 hundred could meet the imitation article without mistaking 
 him for the genuine. The case was certainly most remarkable. 
 
 MARRIED TO THE WRONG WOMAN. 
 
 A suit for divorce was instituted a few days since under 
 rather comical circumstances. A Spaniard, named Auguste 
 Mascarivo, accompanied by a friend, called upon a well-kno\^Ti 
 law^^er, and expressed his desire of separation from his wife, 
 v/ith whom he had lived three or four years, and to whom, as 
 he averred, he had at all times been a faithful and devoted 
 husband. 
 
 The lawyer asked for his complaint. He stated that his' 
 wife had deserted him, and was living with another man. 
 "Can you prove this?" asked the lawyer. "Yes," rephed the 
 petitioner. "Well, what sort of proof is it — how can you 
 prove what you say?" "Dis man-a here," said the hus- 
 band, "my wife-a live-a with him-a." "Ah," said the law- 
 yer, bringing his spectacles to bear on the other; "is that 
 so, sir?" "Yes," rephed the other man; "his wife leave him 
 and she hve with me now." This was said with all the solemn 
 and sympathetic earnestness of a man who feels that he is 
 helping a friend in distress. 
 
 The oddity of the case rather surprised the lawyer and 
 affected his risibles, though he] kept a grave face and rumin- 
 ated for a few moments. At last he resumed his questions*: 
 "Have you proof that you are lawfully married to this woman?" 
 "Oh, yes-a, plenty-a proof." "Have you got it with you?" 
 "No." "Well, before we go any further, you go and get your 
 marriage certificate, or a certified copy of it, from the priest, 
 or whoever married you, and let me see it." 
 
 The two friends left together. Several hours afterward 
 the husband came back with a priestly certificate to the effect 
 that he was married to Maria Brown on the 1st of April, 
 1856, in the Church of St. Marie, on Chartres street. "Whsbt 
 did you say your wife's maiden name was?" asked the law- 
 
60 
 
 CRESCKNT-SHINE. 
 
 yer, reading the certificate. The petitioner instantly replied, 
 "Mary Elizabeth Hock." "Well, but how's this," said the 
 lawyer! "You say you were married to Mary Elizabeth Hock, 
 and your certificate says you w^ere married to Maria Brown ! 
 This is rather strange!" "What!" exclaimed the husband, 
 clapping his hands to his head, and beginning to look like 
 a maniac; "what you say!" The lawyer re-explained the 
 contradiction of names. The husband gave himself up to a 
 paroxysm of wrath, jumped around the room, smacking his 
 fists, and ripping out oaths and other ugly things, in the 
 English, French and Spanish languages. The lawyer, aston- 
 ished, put his hand on the man's shoulder and said, " Look 
 here, my friend, you're making a good deal of fuss that I don't 
 understand; what's the matter?" 
 
 "Matter! what de matter!" shouted the man, with a few 
 more oaths; "plenty-a matter! Dat dam-a priest-a marry me 
 to de lorong ivoman!" The lawj^er said no more just then, 
 but sat down and laughed heartily at what he considered one 
 of the richest cases that ever came before him. The husband 
 kept foaming for some time, cursing the priest that had mar- 
 ried him to the wi'ong woman. 
 
 After a while, when he began to subside from his passion, 
 the lawyer put him through a catechism, and succeeded in 
 obtaining from him the fact that Maria Brown and Mary 
 Elizabeth Hock were girls related and living in the same 
 house together when he went courting, and that when he mar- 
 ried Maria Brown he thought he vs^as marrying Mary Eliza- 
 beth Hock. It proved that he had not been married to the 
 wrong woman, but that then, and ever since the marriage, so 
 Httle attention had he paid to the names, he had always suj)- 
 posed his wife, Maria Brown, to be Mary Ehzabeth Hock. 
 This was certainly an odd case; a man not knowing the 
 maiden name of his lawful wife, after being married three 
 years and a half! 
 
 This matter being thoroughly explained, the lawyer drew up 
 Mr. Mascarivo's petition for divorce from his wife, Maria 
 Brown, and filed it m the Third District Court. 
 
DISUNION OF EXCHANGE ALLEY. 
 
 It is pretty generally known that the Post-office has seceded 
 from Morgan's bookstore, on Exchange Place, and taken up 
 its quarters in the basement of the new Custom-house. The 
 effect of the separation is painfully visible. The Post-office 
 misses Morgan's, and Morgan's misses the Post-office. So 
 long and so inseparably had the two been connected, almost, 
 as it were, in a twin-like community of public accommodation, 
 that the visitor to either instinctively looks around for the 
 other, and has to sigh upon finding it not. 'Tis a shame that 
 they are separated. It is certain that the Post-office will never 
 go back to Morgan's, the friend and boon companion of its 
 former years. 
 
 Merchants and others, whose time hangs heavily o' morn- 
 ings, as they await the irregular and uncertain mails and de- 
 Hvery of their letters and papers, have now no literary nook in 
 which to while away the time, skimming over the literary week- 
 lies and pictorials, and the cheap publications and new books, 
 aU smelling so fresh of the printing-press, and decoying the 
 post-office pensioner so unwittingly through the hours. No. 
 The people who wait the mail openings must stand around in 
 listless idleness; if that does not suit, their only solace is the 
 coffee-house across the street. 
 
 As Morgan's was used by many people as a sort of public 
 highway from Exchange Alley to Royal street, and as many 
 hundreds of those who were in the daily habit of standing 
 around the counters and tumbling the books and papers about, 
 reading by the hour, did so without ever buying anything or in 
 any wise paying for their entertainment, it may be questioned 
 by some whether the removal of the Post-office and its crowds 
 is not a happy riddance to Morgan. 
 
 It seems, however, that it is not a happy riddance. We 
 dropi^ed in at Morgan's the other day, to see how things got 
 on. The scene was silent and dismal enough. The big tom- 
 cat, so long known to the habitues of the place, came trotting 
 over the books and rubbed our arm with all the affection 
 inspired by a period of unexpected desertion and sohtude. 
 The old gentleman who stands behind the newspaper counter 
 was asleep, standing up; his spectacles only watching the 
 papers. The saturnine boy was on a ladder away up among 
 the rafters and cobwebs, silently dusting the books. Elhs was 
 seated on a high stool, reading the advertisements in one of 
 the evening papers. Seeing us, he leaped from his stool, 
 
62 CRESCEISTT-SHINE. 
 
 rushed to the counter, grasped us by the hand, and said in 
 fervent tones, "Thanks, kind friend, thanks! Our chief joy is, 
 that all our old fiiends have not deserted us!" 
 
 "Ah! I should hardly have thought that. Does the deser- 
 tion affect your business any — I mean does it depreciate the 
 former average of your sales ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, not to speak of. We sell nearly as many books 
 and papers as usual; but then its our particular old friends, 
 iWho used to read all day and buy nothing, that we miss." 
 
 "I should think you'd be glad to be rid of them." 
 
 "Not at all. We got so used to them that they seemed like 
 permanent fixtures of the store. As for thek using the books 
 and papers they never injured them in the least; on the con- 
 trary, they often helped our sales considerably." 
 
 "How was that?" 
 
 "Why, you see, a man with an intelhgent and expressive 
 countenance, when he reads for any length of time, betrays 
 the amount of interest or excitement he derives from his read- 
 ing. The man that stood here at this counter and read Monte 
 Christo through in three standings, and who used tofmake such 
 faces when he was reading, has aided us in selHng a great 
 many books. I always watched his face, and could by that 
 pretty surely estimate the amount of pleasure he was enjoying; 
 and whatever book he enjoyed, I was always able to specially 
 recommend without having read it myself." 
 
 "Well, that is an idea for a bookseller." 
 
 "Yes, and it's a good one. Why, you yourseK, have helped 
 us, without seeming to know it. Don't you remember the day 
 you stood here nearly two hours reading that French novel, 
 * Fanny?'" 
 
 "Yes, I believe I do." 
 
 "Well, when you laid down the book and left, a gentleman 
 who had noted your countenance immediately bought a copy 
 of the book. I proceeded to recommend it, and next day the 
 pile was gone." 
 
 "That'll do, Ellis. 'No more of that an' thou lovest me, 
 Hal.'" 
 
 "I tell you it's so. It's just such readers as you and others 
 that I hate to part with. I even regret the disappearance of 
 the man who used to come here, once a week, and read the 
 stories in the Ledger without ever buying a copy, and the 
 price only five cents." 
 
 " Well, now I understand you. Since you like it, I'll drop 
 in once in a while, and read over the books for you." 
 
 "Thank you — do. Have a Harpers' Weekly? It's just in.'* 
 
DISUNION OF EXCH^N&E A.LLEY. 63 
 
 In the course of further conyersation with Mr. ElHs, he 
 informed us that he could never stand the loss of the Post- 
 office and his free readers. He intends to do something 
 about it. What that is will be made known at the proper 
 time. 
 
 TRUE LOVE. 
 
 Scene first: St. Mary's Parish; young son of a rich planter 
 likes a pretty but poor girl, and she lilies him; he wants to 
 move his baggage to her room, (lawfully, of course,) but his 
 cruel parient won't consent, forbids the bans, and threatens 
 to disinherit. Great distress in St. Mary's parish. 
 
 Scene second: New Orleans; the young lovers arrive by the 
 Opelousas cars on Friday evening, in quest of a preacher; 
 Juliet is left at the City Hotel, and Romeo goes in quest of 
 two fi'iends to help him through. He finds them; they sym- 
 pathize, and next morning go with him and her to a Justice of 
 the Peace. They can't swear he is twenty-one, he has'nt got his 
 daddy's permit, and the Judge declines tying the knot. Komeo 
 crazy; terrible fear of the cruel parent catcliing him before the 
 wedding; no time to be lost! 
 
 One of his friends tells him may be lie can find a loafer or 
 two somewhere around the coffee-houses to swear five dollars' 
 worth each that he is over twenty-one years old. Ah, ha! 
 happy thought ! A brief search for five dollar perjurers, but 
 none found; an astonishing jjiece of bad fortune in a tov,^n 
 like this. The Judge is asked for advice; he talks like a father 
 to the babies; tells Romeo to go back home, or his daddy will 
 disinherit him. "He may kick me to hell!" exclaims Romeo, 
 frantically, "but Pm bound to marry this girl!" Judge tells 
 him if he can get respectable witnesses to swear that he can 
 earn his living and support a wife, he can in the course of five 
 days get emancipated by one of the District Courts. Romeo, 
 wilder than ever: "Five days! I can't wait! Where shall I go — 
 what must I do ?" Great sympathy of fiiends and outsiders. 
 
 Scene third: Pontcharcrain railroad cars; the babies and 
 their sympathetic friends en route for the Mobile boat. Before 
 this time the lovers have reached Mobile, and are now pro- 
 bably singing, " A-la-ba-ma — here we rest.'' The energy and 
 desperation of the young man in his matrimonial purposes, 
 and the willingness of his blushing fair one, sensibly afi'ectecl 
 all beholders, for he was handsome and gallant, and she was 
 sweet and pretty, and — the weather was cold. 
 
OH! WASN'T SHE AN ANGEL. THOUGH? 
 
 With eyes as bright as the stars of night, 
 
 And a smile that pierced the soul, 
 The beautiful belle held many a wight 
 
 A slave to love's control. 
 At all the balls and the festal hails 
 
 She reigned with queenly sway — 
 Oh, was'nt she an angel, though ! 
 
 Te-rippety-tooden-dmj ! 
 
 So one fine night, just out of spite. 
 
 And to end her suitors' bother, 
 She mittened some ten of her love-sick men 
 
 And gave her hand to another ! 
 And the public voice admired the choice, 
 
 The gossips were heard to say, 
 "Oh, is'nt she an angel, though " — 
 
 Te-rippety-tooden-day ! 
 
 And in a splendid wedding it ended, 
 
 With all of fashion's capers ; 
 But 'tis idle to tell, 'twas told so well 
 
 In all the daily papers ! 
 The honey-moon flew, and the happy two 
 
 Were very happy they say; 
 Now was'nt she an angel, though — 
 
 Te-rippety-tooden-day ! 
 
 Now what do you think the husband thought, 
 
 When he went home one night, 
 To find his spouse, the prop of his house. 
 
 Was nary where in sight ! 
 The benedict mad, the neighbors glad, 
 
 The very devil to pay — 
 Oh, was'nt she an angel, though ! 
 
 Te-rippety-tooden-day ! 
 
 She had merely floAvn with an overgrown 
 
 Big hairy child of a gun. 
 And people laughed as the scandal they quaffed, 
 
 'Twas all such glorious fun ! 
 For if toowaw slip, 'tis "let her rip," 
 
 The world is apt to say. 
 And when it sees an aiigel trip. 
 
 Sings, Bippety-tooden-day ! 
 
TURNING THE TABLES ON A MEAN LANDLORD. 
 
 Some montiis since, a certain landlord, one of those noble 
 old fellows wlio would skin a flea for his hide and tallow, 
 seized the effects of a poor woman who owed him $20 rent. 
 Her husband is a soldier at Pensacola, and she avers that be- 
 fore he left the landlord promised him that he would not push 
 his wife for the rent vv'hilst he was absent. When the poor 
 woman's effects — a basket of crockery, a few cooking utensils, 
 a baby's chair, a f ew^ j^ictures, and a few articles of old broken- 
 down furniture, a wretched looking lot, making about a cart- 
 load, and not destined to bring more than $20 at auction — 
 were stored by the Constable, his heart was moved at her 
 distress as well as at the landlord's meanness; so he consoled 
 the woman by telling her he would see what he could do for 
 her. 
 
 He told the story to two able and ingenious lawyers, who 
 at once volunteered their gratuitous services. He then im- 
 pressed the landlord with the idea that he would have a hard 
 time gaining his case, and so induced him to employ an expen- 
 sive lawyer and summon an unnecessarily large number of 
 witnesses. The constable and the two lawyers for the woman 
 resorted to every lawful expedient to stave off the trial, thus 
 allowing the costs to accumulate. One of the lawyers got 
 himself appointed curator ad Jloc for the vv^oman's absent hus- 
 band, and obtained a delay of sixteen days in which to cor- 
 respond with him. The landlord's lawyer had a lawyer's time 
 of it in opposing rules for this and that, filed for purposes of 
 delay by counsel for defendant. At last the trial came off, 
 and judgment v/as given of course for the landlord. All pos- 
 sible delays ;were again resorted to, to stave off the sale of 
 the furniture, and with such effect that when the sale does 
 take place, it will be sixty-six days from the day of seizure. 
 
 The bill of costs, for serving citations upon the landlord's 
 numerous witnesses, appraiser's expenses, taking inventory, 
 labor in moving the furniture, serving process verbal, drum- 
 ming, advertising and storage — the latter item being $33, that 
 is, sixty-six days storage, at fifty cents per day--will be over 
 $71. Whilst the furniture will be bought in by friends to 
 restore to the poor v/oman, the landlord will get his $20, bat 
 then he will have to pay the balance, or rather all the costs, 
 amounting to $71. The Constable, having $51 left, will de- 
 duct only so much as was necessary to buy in the furniture, 
 say $20, and will then have left some $30 to hand over as a 
 9 
 
QQ CRESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 gift to the woman with her furniture. Is'nt this a good thing ? 
 The generosity of the Constable and lawyers in this case is 
 equaled only by their ingenuity. The landlord, besides losing 
 as above, will have to pay his lawyer some $25 or $30, that 
 legal gentleman having well earned his money. Total loss of 
 the landlord, about $100. 
 
 WELL HOAXED. 
 
 We have a good thing to tell, but doubt whether we can do 
 it justice in the telhng. We'll attempt it, anyhow: 
 
 About a fortnight since General Scott had occasion to visit 
 and inspect the fortifications below the city, in pursuance of 
 the official duties which brought him here. A tow-boat was 
 politely placed at his service by one of the Towage Companies, 
 and everything else done to render his trij^ x^l^^^ant. On his 
 return the Company made arrangements to have him landed 
 quietly, and conveyed as quietly to his quarters up town. 
 None but a chosen few knew that a tow-boat which landed at 
 one of the Third District wharves, just after dark, had on 
 board so distinguished a passenger as General Scott. 
 
 One outsider, however, had discovered the fact before the 
 boat made fast. This was a well-known stevedore of the 
 Third District, for whose real name we shall substitute, for 
 convenience sake, that of Jingler. He was the first man 
 aboard the boat; rushed up to the cabin; saw General Scott; 
 at once grasped his hand, and made himself intensely familiar. 
 
 The General, whilst politely returning the salutations, begged 
 pardon for not remembering the gentleman's name. [He 
 had actually never seen or heard of him before.] " Jingler, 
 General," he replied, still holding on to his hand; " Jingler, 
 stevedore, six^, at your service !" And then, supposing that the 
 General's chief errand down the river had been to see about 
 deepening the mouths of the Mississippi, he branched off on 
 that subject with great volubility. 
 
 He had visited the bar, he said, and taken much trouble to 
 ascertain the extent of the evil, and the best method of avert- 
 ing it. '-Dredging, General, dredging, is the only thing 
 
w:eijjil, hoaxed. 67 
 
 that'll even open the channels, and the work should be com- 
 menced right off." And he went on detailing the great injury 
 done to commerce by the delay of ships at the bar, etc., hardly 
 giving the- General the opportunity of slipping in a word edge- 
 wise. From the manner in which the General listened to him, 
 it was supposed that at the time he supposed his visitor to be 
 some notable, whom he regretted having never known before. 
 He was finally relieved of Mr. Jingler by the gentlemen who 
 had him specially in their charge, and carriaged to his quar- 
 ters up town. 
 
 Next morning Mr. Jingler walked about two inches taller 
 than usual. He buttonholed all the ship captains, towboat 
 men, and others of his marine acquaintances that he met, and 
 mentioned, as if casually, his interview with General Scott on 
 the towboat the night before. " I'm sorry you wasn't there," 
 he would add, "I should have liked to introduce you; for the 
 General's a splendid old fellow ! I introduced Captain A— — , 
 and Captain B , and Captain C , and a lot of others. 
 
 Talking around in this way, he soon made himself game for 
 the marine gentlemen who loaf about the towboat and ship- 
 ping offices; particularly as it was discovered that the only 
 person he had actually introduced to the General was himself, 
 Mr. J. B. Jingler, stevedore. 
 
 The marine gentlemen aforesaid laid then- heads together to 
 cure Mr. Jingler of his bragging propensities; and they were 
 not long in devising a plan. On an official looking sheet of 
 paper was written the following, in an elegant, business-like 
 hand: 
 
 St. Chaeles Hotel, { 
 
 New Orleans, February 25, 1859. ^ 
 J. B. Jingler; Esq. : 
 
 SiE— I am requested by Lieut. Gen. Winfield Scott, U. S. A., to solicit 
 your attendance at Koom No. 46, St. diaries Hotel, on Tuesday next, the 
 1st of March, at 12 o'clock M., to meet a committee of conference in re- 
 lation to deei^ening the channels at the mouth of the Mississippi. 
 
 Gen. Scott relies u^^on your reputation for intelligence and your exten- 
 sive experience as a stevedore of this port, to make you a valuable mem- 
 ber of said committee. 
 
 It is desired that you should x)articularly charge your mind with statis- 
 tical information regarding the increase of draft of ships loading at this 
 port, for a period of ten years last past. 
 
 Gen. fecott hopes that you will not fail to attend. 
 
 ■ With resj)ect, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 CHAS. 0. GEEEN, 
 
 Secretary Board of Inspection Coast and Harbor Defences, 
 
 War Department, U. S. A. 
 
68 
 
 CRESCE][SrT-.SI-II][SrE. 
 
 This document was folded in a large governmental looking 
 envelope, and formally addressed to Mr. Jingler; there being- 
 written in a corner, over the superscription, " Head Quarters 
 Board of Inspection, Coast and Harbor Defences, "War De- 
 partment, U. S. A. ;" and on the back an enormous seal of red 
 wax, stamped with the eagle side of a half dollar, and ingeni- 
 ously magnified into a blazing star, by means of other appli- 
 ances. The document, thus finished, tv^as put into the Post- 
 office. We should add, that the wags well knew that General 
 Scott was not stopping at the St. Charles, and had no intention 
 whatever of bothering the General with their fun. 
 
 On Saturday, February 26, Mr. Jingler got the document 
 from the Post-office. He went flying down town, showing it 
 to everybody he met. Several ship captains and others, who 
 were innocent of the joke, swallowed it whole; and the truth 
 must be confessed, that Mr, Jingler did actually create some- 
 thing of a sensation with his letter from the Yv^ar-office. We 
 need not undertake to describe the pride and exultation of 
 Mr. Jingler mider his new honors. Meeting a ship captain he 
 would slap him heartily on the back and exclaim, " Aha, old 
 boy, the thing's all right nov^ — the bar's to be dredged right 
 away ! See here !" And out would come the document with 
 the big red seal. If the captain failed to understand how the 
 document was a sign of immediate action, or of dredging, Mr. 
 Jingler would explain his intimate relations with General 
 Scott, and his influence over him, by w^liich he was quite cer- 
 tain of securing the adoption of his plan for dredging. Con- 
 tinuing to show the document around, he displayed it very 
 naturally to the parties who had gotten it up. They pretend- 
 ed to swallow it, as others had actually done. 
 
 What Mr. Jingler did during Sunday was not definitely 
 known. It was suspected, though, that he was killing him- 
 self in collecting data and loading himself with statistics, for 
 the expected meeting with General Scott and the conference 
 committee. On Monday his proceedings were visible and 
 conspicuous. He came up town and visited the different ship- 
 ping agencies to procure information about the draft of ships 
 for the last ten years. He showed his document as his war- 
 rant at each place. Some suspected it was a hoax, and did 
 not hurt themselves aiding Mr. Jingler in his reseal-ches. 
 Others believed it, and y/iiiingly afforded him much valuable 
 aid. 
 
 On Tuesday, March 1st, Mr. Jingler prepared himself for 
 the visit. He came out dressed magnificently, with a fancy 
 bosomed shirt and everj-thing in proxoortion. It was not 
 
^VELIL. HOAXED. 69 
 
 known v/lietlier lie had bought a new suit of clothes for the 
 occasion; but nobody had ever before seen him look so ele- 
 gant. He passed the tow-boat and shipping offices on his 
 way, smiling complacently to his numerous acquaintances. 
 The joke had by this time become well circulated, and nearly 
 everybody that Mr. Jingler knew had collected around the 
 Marigny Buildings to see him on his way to the rendezvous 
 with General Scott and the Conference Committee. Mr. Jin- 
 gler's innocence was perfectly beautiful, and the quiet fun of 
 the spectators indescribable. 
 
 "When Mr. Jingler reached the St. Charles Hotel, he failed 
 to notice that some of the loafers he had passed at the Ma- 
 rigny Buildings had reached the hotel in advance of himself, 
 and were standing around the opposite corners and leaning 
 against the lamp posts, as quietly and unconcernedly as if 
 they had been there all day. These gentlemen, after seeing 
 Mr. Jingler pick his dainty way up the steps of the main en- 
 trance and disappear into the hotel, took their way back to 
 the Old Third, expecting their friend to follow them shortly, 
 as they knew General Scott was not at the hotel, and supposed 
 their victim must there and then discover the sell. But Mr. 
 Jingler's enthusiastic innocence never permitted him to make 
 the discovery at the hotel. 
 
 Going to the clerk, at the hotel office, our friend the steve- 
 dore asked to be shown to room No. 46. The clerk, before 
 sending him to the room, asked him who he wished to see. 
 " General Scott," replied Mr. Jingler loftily. " There must 
 be some mistake," said the clerk, politely; " General Scott 
 is not stopping here now; he is stopping with Mr. Fellowes, 
 up town. He left word here, though, that if an}'- one called 
 to see him on business, he would be pleased to have him call 
 at Mr. Fellowes'. Here's the address," concluded the clerk, 
 penciling the direction to Mr. Fellowes' residence on a card. 
 Mr. Jingler took the card, and continued his journey up 
 town to the residence of Mr. Fellowes. He found it, and was 
 admitted. 
 
 The General received him in the parlor. "Ah, General, 
 how do you do !" exclaimed the visitor, running up and shak- 
 ing one of his hands with both his ov/n; "you see I'm here; 
 but I hope I'll be of service in the important matter which 
 calls us together." "Eeally, sir," said the General, "you'll 
 have to pardon me, but your name has escaped my memory." 
 "Ah, yes! Jingler, General-— Jingler, stevedore!" "I am 
 glad to know you, Mr. Jingler," said the General, politely; 
 " but really, sir, you'll have to pardon me again, for not know- 
 
70 GliESCEK-T-SHlNE. 
 
 ing tlie nature of the important matter wliicli you say brings 
 us together." " Why, don't you remember, General ? The 
 talk we had on the tow-boat ? About dredging the channel 
 at the mouth of the river ?" 
 
 Whilst saying this, probably with the first faint suspicion 
 that something might be wrong, ]VIr. Jingier pulled forth the 
 letter from Mr. Secretary Green, and submitted it to the 
 General. " Old Lundy" gravely looked at the envelope, seal, 
 superscription and all, and as gravely read the letter inside. 
 " Ah, yes, now I remember," he said, after getting through ; 
 " sit down, Mr. Jingier." 
 
 ]VIr. Jingier at once seated himself, and forthwith proceeded 
 to explain his views about deepening the channel at the 
 Southwest Pass. He was very voluble on the subject of 
 dredging, and the General began to tire of him. When he 
 got through with the dredging question, he began about the 
 draft of vessels in this port for the last ten years. In his ex- 
 altation at the honor of having a private conference with Gen. 
 Scott, Mr. Jingier forgot all about the conference committee, 
 and never inquired after it once. 
 
 When he introduced the subject of the draft of vessels, the 
 General politely interrupted him. " Excuse me, Mr. Jingier," 
 he said, " I don't know that I have any particular interest in 
 the matters of which you speak; besides, sir, this letter was 
 never written by my order, and I know of no such person as 
 Mr. Green." Mr. Jingier did not faint; he is too hardy a man 
 for that; but he remained a short time blanched and speech- 
 less. At last he mumbled a brief apology, and took French 
 leave. 
 
 His business required him to pass the Marigny Buildings 
 on his return down town. He w^ent into the tow-boat office, 
 indignant enough, to inquire who had been hoaxing him. He 
 had hardly entered, v/hen a whole avalanche of ship captains, 
 tow-boat men, opposition stevedores, and others, poured in 
 after him, and with their shouts and laughter fairly made the 
 welkin riiig. They had been scattered around the neighbor- 
 hood, awaiting his return. 
 
 Jingier could not take the thing as a joke. He insisted 
 upon knowing who wrote the letter from the War Office. 
 " Oh, don't bother about that," said one of the Captains, " it 
 must have been some one of the opposition stevedores." — 
 "D — d if it was," said Jingier; "there ain't a stevedore on 
 the levee that's got brains enough to do a thing like that !" 
 This remark seemed to relieve Mr. Jingier somewhat, for a 
 
welij ho^xei:). 71 
 
 number of the stevedores lie didn't like were standing around, 
 enjo;>dng the sell with the rest. 
 
 *" Come, Jingier," said one of the Captains, " confess now 
 that yon have been sold good, and treat to champagne !" "I 
 do confess sold," he said, " but I won't treat to champagne 
 till you tell me who writ the letter." Nobody present knew 
 who did the writing; and Mr. Jingier being firm in his 
 resolve, there was no treat. 
 
 Since then, we learn, he has become somewhat reconciled to 
 the joke, and talks of having the letter from the War Office 
 framed and hung up in his parlor at home. 
 
 ALLIGATOR VS. DOG. 
 
 Two family pets had their first and last meeting yesterday; 
 and a shocking and bloody affair it was." A well-known and 
 faithful policeman, residing near the corner of Chippewa and 
 Fu'st streets. Fourth District, has adopted, for his particular 
 pet, a young alligator, about four feet long. The family next 
 door cultivated a pet, in the shape of a warm-hearted and 
 enthusiastic young dog, or pup, who had taken up the idea 
 that he was bound to pitch into any living thing to which he 
 had not been formally introduced. The policeman yesterday 
 changed his domicil; and in moving, left his pet, the alligator, 
 cuiied up in a tub of water, temporarilj^ on the banquette. 
 The next door pet, the dog, being out to see the moving, dog- 
 Hke poked his nose into everything, and in so doing, found 
 the alligator in the tub. He made a great noise about it; and 
 the alligator, without making any noise, stuck his snout out 
 and showed fight. The dog pitched in, or went in as far at 
 least as his shoulders; for the reptile received him with that 
 stjle of open countenance peculiar to his race, and chewed 
 and sucked the canine's head with all the unction with which 
 you, good reader, might chew and suck a boiled shrimp, or a 
 ripe July peach. The dog, losing his head, had to die very 
 soon afterward. The incident was distressing to the dog's 
 family; the aUigator's family, too, felt very bad; but what 
 could they say ? 
 
LET'S KEEP THE LEAF CLEAN! 
 
 [Written lor New Years.] 
 
 Let the hint not be spurned, 
 
 In your pride so sublime; 
 Another leaf 's turned 
 
 In the volume of time ! 
 And as I have reasons, 
 
 Which soon shall be seen, 
 Through all the four seasons 
 
 Let's keep the leaf clean. 
 
 With some 'tis a saying, 
 When trouble or grief 
 
 Through fault begins preying 
 " I'll turn a new leaf !" 
 
 And to such (no obtrusion 
 In this little rhyme) 
 
 I would hint my conclusion 
 That now's a good time ! 
 
 So know that to-morrow, 
 
 All stainless and clear, 
 The new leaf, for your sorrow, 
 
 Or joy, will appear; 
 We'U all, perhai^s, soil it. 
 
 You public and I, 
 But still needn't spoil it. 
 
 If we will but try ! 
 
 Then, first, (if you're able) 
 
 Go pay what you owe, 
 And next, to keep stable, 
 
 Just cut your drinks low: 
 Should cheating or fighting. 
 
 Or other such fun, 
 Become too inviting. 
 
 Just shun it and run ! 
 
 Or should your wife bristle 
 
 At aught you may do, 
 Do naught but just v/histle 
 
 Until she gets through; 
 Stop all your mad capers 
 
 Of passion and sj^leen. 
 And I'll show in the papers 
 
 You keep your leaf clean ! 
 
LET'S KEEI* THE IL,EA.E CXjEA.1N". 73 
 
 For I'm a reporter, 
 
 Who, striving to please, 
 Is still a good courter 
 
 Of comfort and ease ; 
 Who, in his much trotting, 
 
 Finds greatest relief 
 When not asked to new jotting 
 
 On life's dirty leaf! 
 
 And yon very well know it, 
 
 (Or if not, j'-oii should,) 
 That 'tis my place to show it 
 
 When you are not good: 
 If through cri^e or disorder, 
 
 What'er it may be, 
 You face a Eecorder, 
 
 You're published by me ! 
 
 So let's understand it, 
 
 You public and I ; 
 I give you my hand it 
 
 Is easy to try: 
 We'll try, for the reasons 
 
 Which here you have seen, 
 Throughout the four seasons 
 
 To keep the leaf clean ! 
 
 A MILESIAN ROMANCE. 
 
 Lieut. Jaquess, (liaving recovered from liis late illness, and 
 being around on tlie flags once more) on Saturday morning- 
 arrested a Milesian poet and Lothario named Pat Connell. 
 Pat, it happened, fell in love with the buxom young wife of 
 his friend, Terry Keenan. "What Pat's secret agony was 
 through untold weeks, no mortal mind may imagine ; but how 
 he succeeded at last in vvinning the fair but fickle Keenan, we 
 are happily able to explain. 
 
 Pat was a "poic;" and by means of his heartgush of 
 "poickry," succeeded in winning, not only the comely person 
 of Mrs. Keenan, {nee Ellen O'Kourke) but |905 of her hus- 
 band's cash, by way of lagniappe. The deserted and dis- 
 tressed Terry Keenan complained of this; and, though the 
 affair in most respects was highly poetical and romantic, the 
 sober language of the law reduced it to this: "Pat Connell, 
 charged with inveigling away the wife of Terry Keenan, and 
 robbing him of $905 in cash." 
 
 Let not a heartless and frivolous public too hastily or 
 10 
 
74 
 
 CRESCKnS-T-SIilTNrE. 
 
 harshly condemn the frail Mrs. Terry Keenan, born EUen 
 O'Rourke. At best she was but a woman; one of those pas- 
 sionate and impulsive creatures, of the Tom Moorish or 
 Byronic school, that steer through life straight enough, until 
 assailed and encompassed by that lava of love, poesy, which 
 spouts forth in torrents from the brain, heart and pen, of 
 crathurs hot as Vesuvius, only to quench itself, if not stayed 
 in the briny sea of hopeless despair and eternal death. 
 
 The following is a verbatim copy of one of the poems with 
 which Pat Connell enticed away Mrs. Keenan and her hus- 
 dand's nine hundred dollars. We change it in only one 
 way; it is written, though in rhyme, in the compact form of 
 prose; and we give it the poetic division in lines to which its 
 immortal merit entitles it : 
 
 now, Ellen, my darling, 
 My joy and deligM, 
 
 1 would infould you in my arms 
 Of a Cold and Stormy night, 
 
 wher i would be contented 
 
 My time i would spend most free 
 
 for above all weeman breathing, lovely Ellen for mee. 
 
 O now, Ellen, if I had a few lages fi-om this Shore, 
 
 it is then I would be contented — we would have trouble no more ; 
 
 wee would be united and happy our sorrows all Ower; 
 
 for far from our enimies, on sum Distant Shore. 
 
 O now, Ellen, I will come and see you some evening soon, 
 
 that we may slope by the light of the moon, 
 
 where wee can make ourselves happy as happy Can bee. 
 
 and leave them to mourn for the loss of thee. 
 
 O now, Ellen, I have rambled this country all ower, 
 
 but i am resolved to ramble no more ; 
 
 i have made up my mind from you never to part 
 
 to Death does relieve me and break my fond hart. 
 
 O then, if i never see you, to the tavern i will go, 
 
 where i will drink strong whiskey to Drown all my woo ; 
 
 i will drink your health, Darling, while good liquor dos stand, 
 
 and then i will Sail over to where My Darling Came From. 
 
 My Dearest dear, and best devine, * 
 I have painted here your hart and mine ; 
 But Cubit with his fatal dart, f 
 has piersed my young and tender hart. 
 But my mind can never be at ease, 
 to both our hearts are joined like these. ^^ 
 Mr. Patrick Connell to Miss Ellen O'Eoark. 
 
 * Two hearts are drawn, a little distance apart, opposite the lines. 
 
 t Picture of a very fat heart, considerably split by something like an iron 
 wedge; Pat's idea of a dart. 
 
 J Two enormous hearts, linked together, and looking like an exaggerated 
 capital W. 
 
j^ iviiLESi^isr iioivi^:nce. 
 
 75 
 
 The amorous and poetic Pat was sent to prison by Kecorder 
 Emerson to await examination as regards Mr. Keenan's stolen 
 $905. As regards the fatherless Mrs. Ellen K., ( born 
 O'Kourke) Pat could hardly be accused of stealing her, though 
 he might have stolen her heart. She only proved (though 
 not a maiden) the truth of what Tom Moore sung — 
 
 "When once the young heart of a maiden is stolen, 
 The maiden herself will steal after it soon." 
 
 But the sequel is the saddest of all. Ellen having yielded 
 to the poetic Avooings of the gifted Pat, it was not he, but the 
 betrayed and deserted and robbed Keenan, who said to him- 
 self— 
 
 " To the tavern I will go, 
 
 Where I will drink strong whiskey to drown all my woo" — 
 
 For, late on Saturday night, Mr. K. was taken in a cart, 
 beastly drunk, to the First District Lock-up. "Sich is life!" 
 
 THE CHEVALIER HUTCHINSON. 
 
 W. F. Hutchinson is a nice, dapper young fellow; handsome, 
 dignified, and decidedly genteel; always dressed to the top of 
 the fashion, wearing gloves, and carrying a nice httle rattan. 
 His days, until latterly, were devoted to the putting up of pre- 
 scriptions at Webster & Holmes' drug store, corner of Chartres 
 and Customhouse streets; his nights to plajdng the gentleman 
 about town, and especially swelhng in the parquette and lobby 
 of the Varieties Theatre, where he passed, or endeavored to 
 pass, for Doctor Hutchinson; also as a great judge and critic of 
 theatrical and operatic matters, and last, but not least, special 
 and regular correspondent of the New York Daily Times. All 
 sorts of a genius was this Doctor Hutchinson; especially 
 around the Varieties Theatre. 
 
 Some time last fall, shortly after the opening of the theatre, 
 Hutchinson duped a gentleman who was acquainted with Mr. 
 Owens, the manager; this gentleman, representing that his 
 young fi'iend Hutchinson was the regular correspondent of the 
 New York Times, and devoted much of his writing to theatrical 
 matters, hinted the propriety of putting his name on the free 
 list. Having faith in the gentleman, Mr. Owens at once 
 
76 
 
 CR-ESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 put the name on tlie list, Hutcliinson, of course, soon found 
 out that all was right, and was a regular and enthusiastic 
 visitor at the theatre. Mr. Owens, who had never heard of 
 the man before putting him on the free Hst, still remained in 
 ignorance of him, never meeting him to knovf him. 
 
 At last, faiUng to receive any copy of the New York Times 
 containing anything like correspondence fi'om Mr. Hutchinson, 
 IVIr. Owens concluded he was a humbug, and crossed his name 
 off the free list. A few days afterward, Mr. Owens received 
 through the Post Office a note from Mr. Hutchinson, demand- 
 ing, in indignant terms, to know why his name had been 
 erased from the free list! Mr. Owens laughed at the cool 
 audacity of the thing, sent no answer, and soon forgot all 
 about it. 
 
 On the 9th instant, Mr. Owens received through the Post 
 Office a letter signed " H. W.," informing him that the wiriter 
 was correspondent of the New York Police Gazette, and had 
 prepared for publication in that paper a "nice item" about 
 himself and things about his theatre, of such a nature that 
 he might desire to have the item suppressed; and modestly 
 asking if it would be worth anything to have the letter stopped, 
 which letter, unless an answer was received within forty-eight 
 hours, addressed to " H. W., Box B. 198, Post Office," would 
 be on its way to New York. 
 
 Mr. Owens, at once seeing villainy approaching him in a 
 mask, visited and consulted the Chief of Police, Mr. Adams. 
 That gentleman drafted a decoy letter, vmich Mr. Owens copied 
 and dropped in the Post Office, to the address named; a letter 
 full of tender fear and complaisance, requesting an interview, 
 or other means of coming to terms, in order to suppress the 
 threatened correspondence in the Police Grazette. 
 
 Meantime, suddenly remembering the note he had long ago 
 received from the humbug Hutchinson, touching his dismissal 
 from the free Hst, Mr. Owens found that the handvaiting of 
 that note and this of "H. W." was the same; he therefore 
 knew his man, though not by any previous personal introduc- 
 tion. The trax^-letter in good time had its eifect. Mr. Owens 
 on the 11th received a second letter through the Post Office 
 from "H. W.," naming the price of suppression at $200, and 
 requesting a speedy answer, as " H. VI." was to leave the city 
 in a day or tvvo. 
 
 Soon after receiving this letter, Mr. Ovrens vv^as visited at 
 the theatre by the redoubtable correspondent in person. He 
 introduced himself in a stiff and business-like way, doubtless 
 expecting to get the $200. Mr. Owens was rejoiced to see 
 
THE CHEV^ILIDEE, HXJTCHIlN'SOIsr. 77 
 
 liim; laughed at Mm; told him the Chief of Police had been 
 looking for him for several days; that his reply letter was 
 but a mere trap written by the Chief of Police to catch him, 
 and that he was obliged to him for tumbling into the trap so 
 readily. Mr. Owens then dismissed him with an Irish bless- 
 ing, calling him thief, swindler, and other names rather rej^ul- 
 sive to genteel ears. He charitably forbore kicking him. 
 
 The Chevalier, doubting that the Chief of Police had had 
 am-thing to do with the matter, went to the Police Office and 
 requested to see some of the Chief's handv^-riting. An entry 
 on the book was shovrn him, as the Chiefs hand. Seeing that 
 it did not correspond with the writing of the trap-letter, he 
 called upon the Chief in his office, and introduced himself, 
 much to the Chief's suprise, as the correspondent of the Police 
 Gazette, and stated that he wanted to make some inquiries 
 about his agency with Owens in writing to him, if there 
 was any. , 
 
 The Chief invited him to take a seat; he sat down; the 
 Chief told him that he himself had dictated the letter, just to 
 catch him, and told him a good many things that he didn't 
 relish; among others, that if he vras really the New Orleans 
 correspondent of the Police Gazette, his skin could be sold for 
 five or ten thousand dollars, and that he (the Chief of Police) 
 would just as soon skin him then and there as not. Hutchin- 
 son X3ut on airs of offended dignity, rapping his swell-leg 
 breeches with his little rattan, and finally, in reply to some- 
 thing said, called the Chief a liar. The Chief slapped his 
 face, and would have punished him further, but for the inter- 
 ference of a benevolent old gentleman who happened to be in 
 the office at the time. This interference in his behalf made 
 Hutchinson as spunky as a rat, and on being ordered to leave, 
 he refused. The Chief then kicked him out of the office, and 
 out of the building into the street. Mr. Hutchinson then left. 
 The kicking seemed to have done him some good, for Mr. 
 Owens, received yet another note from him, as follows: 
 
 New Orleans, April 15. 
 3Ir. Owens — I am off. If you will drop the affair I will leave the city as 
 soon as possible, and mil not meddle with anything of the kind again. I 
 am not correspondent for the Police Gazette. You have too much power 
 and influence for me to contend -with. 
 
 But before the Chevalier got off, he was arrested on an affi- 
 davit made by Mr. Owens, charging him with attempting to 
 leYj black-mail. In default of $500 bail to appear for exami- 
 nation. Recorder Summers sent the Chevalier to prison. The 
 
78 CR.ESCETq'T-SIIIT^E. 
 
 -st- 
 
 arrest, and Mr. Owens' affidavit, we published last week. 
 Messrs. Webster & Holmes, the employers of Hutchinson, 
 were, it seems, so well satisfied of the rascally character of 
 their clerk, that they declined going bail for him, or even visit- 
 ing him in prison. The box in the Post Office, to which 
 Hutchinson had requested Mr. Owens to address his replies, 
 was the box of Messrs. Webster & Holmes. 
 
 During the progress of the interesting correspondence above 
 given, Mr. Owens wrote to a friend in New York, to call upon 
 Mr. Matsell, of the Pohce Gazette, and ascertain whether 
 Hutchinson had actually sent a letter or letters to that office 
 for publication. Mr. Owens has received the following reply: 
 
 New Yoek, April 18, 1860. 
 John E. Owens, Esq. : — Dear Sir — I called on Mr. Matsell, and found 
 that the letters mentioned by yon had arrived. The same person had 
 written several letters for x^ublication. 
 
 KespectfuUy yours, 
 
 Now, is'nt this " Doctor" Hutchinson a " nice young man 
 for a small tea party ?" 
 
 Yesterday, Hutchinson had himself brought before Judge 
 Duvigneaud, in the Third District Court, on a writ of habeas 
 corpus. It being shown that there was no law to punish an 
 attempt at extortion, the Judge confirmed the writ, and set the 
 prisoner at liberty. 
 
 We have no doubt that the "Doctor" will now fulfill the 
 promise in his last note to Mr. Owens. If he will call at the 
 Crescent office, he shall have several copies, free, of this truth- 
 ful account of his doings in this city, to entertain and solace 
 him during his travels. 
 
DEATH OF ARCHBISHOP BLANC. 
 
 Tliis sad event is one of importance not in this city only but 
 among a large class of our fellow-citizens throughout the 
 entire south-west. The Archbishop of New Orleans is a Me- 
 tropolitan, embracing within his jurisdiction the Dioceses of 
 Alabama, ]\Iississipj)i, Texas and Arkansas, we believe, besides 
 the two which divide this State. An immense population, 
 therefore, are connected with him by spiritual ties, and feel an 
 interest in his acts while living, and in the question of who shall 
 succeed him when dead. 
 
 Personally, the late Archbishop was a man calculated to win 
 the esteem and affection of all who made his acquaintance. 
 Remarkably gentle and mild in his manners, affable with all, 
 nothing of the hauteur so common to high position and com- 
 manding sway could be detected in his conduct. Of course, 
 large sums of money must have constantly passed under his 
 control, but no ostentation or luxury ever betokened even a 
 hberal application thereof to his personal uses. An antiquated 
 sombre-looking residence, an apparel sHghtly removed from 
 shabbiness, and pedestrian habits which eschewed anything 
 like an equipage, everything about him characterized the 
 faithful administration of the goods of the poor. 
 
 The position which he has left vacant must soon be filled 
 again, and we can only hope that it will be by some one who 
 will know as well how to win confidence, allay heart-burnings 
 and reconcile antagonisms. It is not to be ignored that the 
 administration of the Catholic Church here is a matter of 
 public interest, since upon it depends, to a considerable extent, 
 the moral condition of a large portion of our fellow-citizens, 
 and therefore we hope for the appointment of a competent 
 man, who understands our people and our institutions. 
 
 The procession which yesterdaj^ afternoon accompanied the 
 remains of Archbishop Blanc from St. Mary's Church to the 
 Cathedral was very imposing. First came a large body of 
 clergy, with the proper insignia, then Sisters of Charity, Nuns, 
 young ladies, girls, and finally the hearse, followed by an im- 
 mense crowd, where we could not discover any regular con- 
 tinuation of the procession, but which doubtless was or con- 
 tained one. Once ^dthin the church the solemn chanting and 
 imposing ceremonies of the Catholic ritual were well calculated 
 to augment the awe which death alone can inspire. We un- 
 derstand that the body will be in state until this afternoon at 
 5 o'clock, when a solemn requiem will be chanted and the body 
 deposited in a vault beneath the nave. 
 
FLATTERING COMPLIMENT. 
 
 The finest compliment we ever received during our repor- 
 torial connection witli the Crescent was paid to ns on Monday 
 night, or rather yesterday morning at 1 o'clock, by one SulH- 
 van, the newly-appointed guardian of th'e night on Camp 
 street, in the vicinity of the Crescent office. He took this 
 writer for a burglar, and arrested him on the charge of having 
 property in his possession supposed to be stolen. 
 
 Having finished his nightly scribbiings for the Crescent, he 
 left the office and took his usual path for home, having in his 
 hand a bundle in a handlierchief. The contents of the bundle 
 were as follows : Fielding's Novels, one volume. [He had long 
 ago read " Tom Jones," and expected to find a similar feast 
 in " Joseph Andi-ews," " Amelia," and " A Journey from this 
 World into the Next."] Campbell's poems, one volvme. 
 [Having been brought from home to the office for quotation 
 purposes.] Hardee's Tactics, one volume in paper cover. 
 [The reporter being ensign of the Sumter Greys, and anxious 
 to learn any and everything calculated to fit him to die hand- 
 somely for his country.] Mahan's Treatise for officers of Vol- 
 unteers and Militia, one volume. [The reporter modestly 
 expecting, if not killed in battle, to be a Major-G-eneral at 
 some future day.] x4.nd the venerable old opera glass with 
 which the reporter had been scrutinizing theatrical, operatic 
 and other exhibitions for the last six or seven years. [Mrs. 
 Reporter having urgently requested the return of the glass at 
 home, that she might the better take observations of the comet 
 which had been seen in the western firmament on the several 
 previous evenings, as well as to take observations of the neigh- 
 bors and other eccentric and wandering things in the repor- 
 torial neighborhood.] These were the things that the repor- 
 ter's white handkerchief contained. 
 
 As the reporter, bundle in hand, passed the corner of Camp 
 and Common streets, wondering v^hat he would have for a 
 leading item in Wednesday's Crescent, the gallant leatherhead 
 there stationed said: "Hay! You! Mister!" The reporter 
 turned about and said, "Are you hailing me?" "Yes." Re- 
 porter walked back to the leatherhead and asked, " Well, what 
 is it?" Leatherhead — "Where are ye going?" Reporter — 
 " That's none of your business." L. — " Where have ye been ?" 
 R. — " And that's none of your business." L. — " What have 
 ye got in that bundle ?" R. — " And that's none of your busi- 
 ness." [The reporter, so long known to the pohce, was thun- 
 
H"T^.VTTEniNG> COIMnjIIMENT. 81 
 
 derstruck to find a watcliman, on his usual line of travel, who 
 didn't know him, and recognizing him as a greeny, determined 
 to treat him as such.] L. — "Well, I have to take ye in." 
 K. — "All right, I never resist the perlice." 
 
 The "gallant" Sullivan, surprised at the quiet and read}^ 
 surrender of the reporter, suspected tricks, and walked near 
 him with his club firnil}^ grasped, and the strap wrapped round 
 his wrist, to deal a deadly blov\- upon his prisoner's first attempt 
 to escape. [Reporter confesses there wouldn't have been much 
 fun in trying to get away from Leatherhead just then, for the 
 latter is a tall, herculean fellov>'^, with some name as a fast 
 runner. Still, the reporter enjoyed it as a joke hugely — the 
 idea of the clistinguished Crescent Reporter and honorable 
 Ensign of the Sumter Gre3^s being suspected as a burglar, and 
 arrested for halving property supposed to be stolen !] 
 
 Arrived at the lockup, the reporter stepped in first and gave 
 the wink quietly to the clerk and turnkey, who at once took 
 up the joke and acted it out admirably. Reporter feigned a 
 tow^ering rage, slammed his bundle on the desk, and told the 
 officers to examine it and be d — d. Billy Kerns pushed him 
 into a corner and sternly ordered him to keep quiet, and then 
 made a feint of searching his pockets. Frank Ames looked at 
 the clock, opened his blotter, sternty asked the prisoner his 
 name, and then asked Sullivan what the charge was. " Havin' 
 properthy supposhed to be shtolen," was the answer. Frank — 
 " Go back to your beat, and be in Court at 9 in the morning." 
 Sullivan left; and then may be there wasn't some laughing in 
 and around the lockup ! Of course, no charge v/as entered, 
 and the reporter went on home with his precious bundle, meet- 
 ing no other greenies on the way. 
 
 As there had lately been several burglaries perpetrated in 
 the vicinity of the Crescent office, on Natchez street. Bank 
 Place, etc., Sullivan plumed himself upon having made a 
 "bully" arrest; the opera glass and the books showed con- 
 clusively that some gentleman's office or sleeping room had 
 been entered. Sullivan, having served as a policeman in 
 London, fancied himself ifc. the v/ay of showing a thing or tv/o 
 to the stupid fellows wiio had never been policemen out of 
 New Orleans. He was so. elated with his achievement, that 
 when the Crescent office opened, at morning's early dawm, he 
 entered, and with much miction informed the mail clerk that 
 he had arrested a thief just below the Crescent office, at one 
 o'clock in the morning, with an opera glass, books, and so on, 
 which he had evidently robbed out of some place in the neigh- 
 borhood. "What sort of a looking cha^) was he?" asked the 
 11 
 
82 CRESCEISTT-SI-IIlSrE. 
 
 clerk. "He was a ginteel looking fellow, but ye know all 
 thaives look like gintleman now." And asking for a Crescent, 
 lie said, " I wonder if it's reported in this mornin's paper." 
 He didn't find the arrest mentioned, but, probably, if he looks 
 over to-day's Crescent, he will find it mentioned to his satis- 
 faction, and himself honorably mentioned as haying made one 
 of the most brilliant arrests of the season. 
 
 The officers at the lockup Tand the reporter cannot be 
 blamed for that) kept up the joke continually on poor Sulli- 
 van. He remained in the Eecorder's Court till 11 o'clock yes- 
 terday^, to give his testimony against the supposed burglar he 
 arrested on Camp street. 
 
 TEREIFIG AFFAIR. 
 
 AN 0I.D T>^ELL DUG OUT, AND NO BONES I^OUND. 
 
 The police of the Second District and the reporters of all 
 the Districts, got hold of a choice case on Saturday, with 
 which the public was horrified through yesterday's papers. 
 One Henry Bowers, living on Laharpe street, betvzecn Marais 
 and Villere, in the Thii'd District, was arrestsd by Lieutenant 
 Crevon, upon a strong suspicion that his mistress, Ellen 
 Dougherty, some five or six v\^eeks missing, had been murdered 
 and cut to pieces by him, and her fragments buried in a well 
 in the bac--: yard. 
 
 Bovv^ers is happy father to three interesting children by his 
 deceased wife, prior to his illegal alliance with the fair Dough- 
 erty. One of the little cherubs prattled around the neighbor- 
 hood that pa had killed ma and buried her in the well; that 
 pa had told her she could play under the house now, as ma's 
 ghost had gone avv^ay; and so on. The neighbors, vnth that 
 kindly interest for v/hich neighbors have always been cele- 
 brated and shall be forever blest, whispered and talked until 
 they acquired a very respectable amount of excitement. The 
 child had told the story in an innocent and truthful way — fact 
 nuihber one. Ellen had been missing for some time — fact 
 number two. The well in the yard was actually filled up 
 — fact number three. Horror ! 
 
 Bowers was incontinently nabbed and boosed. He said the 
 woman was intemperate, and had left him in a jealous miff and 
 gone over the lake. Bov/ers' son, little Bov/ers, said so too; 
 
TEIiRIiriC J^JnrJLIH. 
 
 83 
 
 but a shocked and horror-stricken community had to be satis- 
 fied, so it was announced that the old well would be dug out 
 again on yesterday. 
 
 Lieutenant Crevon and a posse of officers of the Second and 
 Third Districts accordingly went yesterday forenoon to dig the 
 well or have it dug, whilst Coroner Beach staid at his office 
 serenely awaiting tidings of the bones. He had supped on 
 horror so much, that this worst of horrors never disturbed his 
 equanimity in the least. 
 
 Well, the well was dug; and it was a well remarkably well 
 dug, in the presence of an excited and breathless multitude of 
 people; whose eyes fairly started, in looking for pieces of skull, 
 teeth, leg-bones, hair and dry goods, in the up-flying shovel- 
 fulls of dirt. Deeper dug the laborers, and more intense did 
 the wonder and excitement grow. At last, the suspense was 
 relieved. At a depth of ten feet, the diggers found — the bot- 
 tom of the old v>^ell. The police went home, and the multi- 
 tude mizzled. The horror was at an end. 
 
 The police, however, deserve credit, for there was a wide- 
 spread excitement in Bowers' vicinity, which it was necessary 
 to probe, or dig to the bottom. They did so, and are entitled 
 to just as much credit as if they had found the imaginary 
 bones. Bowers, once more at liberty, will probably take an 
 early opportunity of paying his respects to his loving and sym- 
 pathetic neighbors. 
 
 A NIGGER GIRL PLAYING GHOST. 
 
 Latety an old lady residing on Customhouse street bought a 
 negro girl, Avho soon afterward died. Another negro girl in 
 the house spread the report that this girl died of ill-treatment, 
 and affected to be much seandahzed when the old lady had a 
 doctor to examine the dead girl's body, with the view of ascer- 
 taining the cause of death, and sending in a bill of damages 
 against the party who had sold the girl to her, under guaranty 
 as to her health. 
 
 The seandahzed wench took an odd method of venting her 
 spite against her mistress. In the first place, she spread the 
 report that her mistress had killed the other girl by torturing 
 her with hot irons; in the second place, she undertook to per- 
 sonate the ghost of the deceased, an invisible ghost; and in 
 this she succeeded in thoroughly alarming her mistress, who 
 was a little inclined to superstition. 
 
84 
 
 C RESCE^STX-SHIlSrE. 
 
 One morning, going into the iiitclien, the old lady found 
 everything in disorder, fixtures displaced, crockery smashed, 
 etc. The deyilish servant giii pretended to be very much 
 alarmed; described the noises she had heard in the night; and 
 maintained that, as no outside person could possibly have got 
 into the kitchen, the author of the damage could have been 
 none other than the dead girl's ghost. The artful wench 
 strengthened her semblance of superstitious fear by " vamos- 
 ing the ranche" for parts unknovv^n. 
 
 The old lady's distress at losing the girl that died was not a 
 little augmented by this disappearance of her remaining ser- 
 vant. Failing in her inquiries after the runawa}^, she left her 
 description at the police office, with an offer of ten dollars 
 reward for her arrest. Still another and a most alarming dis- 
 tress persecuted the old lady. Strange and startling noises 
 distiu'bed the stillness of the house, during the ghostly hours 
 of the night; such as an indescribable noise here, a sharp 
 bang there, and a |)erfect thunder of noise in some other part 
 of the house. The old lady's soul was nearly frightened out 
 of her body. 
 
 Night before last, the old lady was afraid to go to bed. She 
 was standing on the banquette, confiding her alarms to some 
 of her neighbors, when ofiicer BouUosa, who had heard some- 
 thing of the matter, passed along. He inquired into the 
 trouble, and was enhghtened. .He volunteered to enter the 
 house and search it. Hailing two firemen, who happened to 
 be passing, he got them to assist him in the search, and they 
 entered the house. As they passed along the hall, a fly-brush 
 was thrown at them by some one at the head of the stairs; 
 and looking up quicldj^, the officer caught a glimpse of a 
 retreating petticoat. They rushed up and gave chase, but 
 the petticoat had disappeared. They searched the house 
 thoroughly and found nobody. At last they noticed a door 
 communicating to the adjoining house. This door was forced, 
 and there, on the other side, they found the ghost — a very 
 Ethioi^ian ghost, for whose arrest ten dollars reward was 
 offered. She had been there secreted all the time, for no other 
 purpose than to make noises in her mistress' house at night, 
 and to frighten her into the belief that the dead girl's ghost 
 was after her. 
 
 Boullosa got his ten dollars, and the old lad}^ got her nigger 
 back and dropped her faith in ghosts. 
 
THE NEW TYPE. 
 
 Our new type, ^Ye should say, feels x3roperiy proud upon 
 making its debut in the Crescent, and upon finding that this 
 reporter has not been knocked into ^jii and boxed up with the 
 old type. The new type expects to say many a thing, good, 
 indifferent, exciting, pleasant, unpleasant, bad and horrible, 
 before it gets through with the Crescent reporter, and the 
 other gentlemen who are component X3arts of the editorial 
 firm of We and Us; pmd having nothing else with which to 
 bring said type luminously into notice, we will give it a place 
 in this column to say a few words for itself. Silence, friends ! 
 hsten : 
 
 SONG OF THE N E Vv^ TYPE. 
 
 Good moruing, public ! liere we are, 
 
 All bright and fresb to see, 
 And expect from you tliat our dehvi 
 
 Will vdn your plaudits free ! 
 Ill the rugged ore of the silent mine 
 
 "We've slept for ages past. 
 But now we'll show that full we know 
 Our destiny at last ! 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! good luck ! hurra 
 
 Our destiny we bless, 
 To leap to life in a lightning strife 
 With the mighty printing press ! 
 
 What leel we of the miner's toil. 
 
 Of the moulder's careful art, 
 Till the writer's pen and the printer men 
 
 Give us our glorious start ? 
 As we leap to light in the printer's hand, 
 
 All spelled and worded in place. 
 And merrily click in the printer's stick, 
 Away we go for the chase ! 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! good luck ! hurra ! 
 
 Our destiny we bless. 
 To follow the chase to its resting place, 
 The Ijed of the printing x:>ress ! 
 
 Some folks may call us minion types, 
 
 And galley slaves beside; 
 But we laugh to scorn the wretch forlorn 
 
 AVho dares to thus deride ! 
 
86 CRKSCENT-SHINE. 
 
 M • 
 
 'Tis true enough, as such may say, 
 That we have just been bought: 
 But a j)ride we boast we're serfs at most. 
 To the monarch, King of Thought ! 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! hip ! hip ! hurra ! 
 
 Our proud degree we bless ! 
 To leap to light with the morning bright 
 From the thund'ring printing press ! 
 
 And' though ice're slaves to this King of Thought, 
 
 Our slaves unnumbered are : 
 Amid high and iov/, Avherever vre go. 
 
 We find our subjects there ; 
 E'en the monarch steam is our veriest slave ; 
 
 Jove's lightning too we own; 
 In each mighty job they but flash and throb 
 That the types may make them known. 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! good luck ! hurra ! 
 
 Our destiny we bless ! 
 As we stamp each sheet that flashes fleet 
 From the crashing printing press ! 
 
 Our daily joy 'twill be to tell 
 
 What this big world's about; 
 When the nations are bland, or take a hand 
 
 In the bloody battle rout; 
 Of rumors here and 'larums there, 
 
 Of kings and cotton and corn. 
 Of ^things that were and of things that are, 
 
 And things that are yet unborn ! 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! give a double hurra ! 
 
 And shout with double stress ! 
 As we leap to hght each morning bright 
 
 From the mighty printing press ! 
 
 And so we hope, for many a day. 
 
 Our mission of light to fill ; 
 To instruct vvdth our news, with our chat to amuse, 
 
 Our vassals and friends as they will; 
 And day and night, as we take our way, 
 
 Through stick and galley and chase, 
 To meet the caress of the printing press. 
 We'll sing in our solid embrace. 
 
 Ho ! ho ! ha ! ha ! three times hurra ! 
 
 Our happy lot we bless ! 
 To leap to life in a lightning strife. 
 With the mighty printing jDress. 
 
DOUBLE-ENDER COFFEEHOUSES. 
 
 "I think, Smiffy," said Yon, as tliey came out of the Sazarac 
 yesterday, "that these two-ended coffeehouses, opening on two 
 streets, or having back entrances, must do a real paymg busi- 
 ness." 
 
 "Yes, that is clear; they have two hooks in the pool, whilst 
 the (ffchers have only one." 
 
 " And it is not only a source of extra profit to the proprie- 
 tors themselves, but an accommodation to a large part of the 
 public. When a man's finances are low, and he hasn't more 
 than enough to treat himself, or liimseK and one friend, he is 
 chary "about entering a coffeehouse from the broad and. crowd- 
 ed street, where perhaps a dozen more friends are standing 
 around to notice him, ready to join in uninvited if the oppor- 
 tunity offers, or, like the Dutch boy, to 'think damn' about it 
 if not invited. Anxious to spare the feelings of these men, he 
 will not go up to drink in then- presence ; but the first coffee- 
 house that he comes to that has a back door or side entrance, 
 he and his friend can slip in and drink quietly to their own 
 satisfaction, and to the dissatisfaction of nobody." 
 
 "That's so; I've often myself been in that fix." 
 
 " Now, there's Dan Malone, that keeps the Tattersalls on 
 St. Charles street; a large part of his revenue is derived from 
 that little and almost unnoticeable side entrance on Commer- 
 cial Place. Anybody can enter that sideway with perfect im- 
 punity; for it leads to other places besides Dan'^ bar-room. 
 On Monday, election day, when all the coft'eehouses w^ere 
 closed, I should have perished but for a coffeehouse keeper on 
 Gravier street, wdio kindly forgot to lock his back door on 
 Union street. Ha! ha! you should .have seen the boys slip- 
 ping in there and then slipping out, carefully pulling the door 
 to behind them, and looking as serious and pious as cats after 
 cream, or as if they had just left a prayer meeting. Other 
 places that day had their back doors loose on the hinge. I'm 
 satisfied they did not do it out of disrespect to the Mayor's 
 order, but did it purely in a spirit of willingness to accommo- 
 date the intense and irrepressible desire which nearly aU free- 
 born American citizens have, to keep their patriotism moist 
 on election day. The Mayor's object in closing the coffee- 
 houses that day yvus laudable and proper, being intended to 
 prevent disturbances of the peace from drunkenness; and 
 those of the double-ended coffeehouse keepers who so gently 
 infringed the order, did so upon the assumption that all their 
 
88 
 
 CRESCET^TT-SI-IIIN-E. 
 
 customers were gentlemen, "vvlio would not betray or disgrace 
 them by getting drunk and cutting np, no matter liow often 
 they might drink. It was a great accommodation to me that 
 day' Smiffy, I assure you; for every time I voted" — 
 
 "How's that! Every time you voted?" 
 
 "Don't bite a fellow so short off. Every time I voted a man, 
 or took him up to vote, if that pleases you better, the easiest 
 and most graceful v/ay to get rid of him afterward was to take 
 him and treat him. But for the vicinity of a certain loose jDack 
 door which answered my purpose, I would have been involved in 
 much dry talk and some awkwardness. Be^des, by dint of 
 good talk and good liquor combined, I cured two men of 
 'Allen on the brain' that day, and got them to vote for 
 Wells." 
 
 "I don't look upon that as anything to brag of, Yon. It 
 was beneath the dignity of your j^arty to entrap any man's 
 vote by making him drunk." 
 
 "There you go again, Smiffy. Will you never have any 
 sense? I didn't make them drunk; I only got them in a good 
 humor, brought them back to their senses; but had it been 
 necessary to get them drunk, I believe I should have done so. 
 The disease, or cerebral disorder, called 'Allen on the brain,' 
 is a thing so nearly allied to insanity, something so apt to 
 ruin a man for the rest of his life, that any possible means of 
 curing it at the start are justifiable; an}^ physician will tell 
 you so." 
 
 "I doubt it. Von." 
 
 "Well, let it pass. But, s^oeaking of double-ended coffee- 
 houses, Smiffy, let me tell you a good thing that happened in 
 July, shortly after I returned from the late Confederacy. 
 
 One day, at Moody's corner, I met Bill C . He too had 
 
 just got back. We were great chums before the war, and 
 hardly ever parted without one or the other treating; and 
 when we occasionally met during the war, it was the same — 
 one or the other was sure to furnish the whiskey, if money or 
 human ingenuity could procure it. ¥/e really liked each 
 other; and so you may imagine our feelings when we first 
 met in New Orleans, after our long and weary adventures 
 abroad. 'Hello, Bill! is that really you?' 'Great heaven, 
 Von, where did you come from?' We shook hands nearly 
 five minutes, so powerfully were we rejoiced at the meeting, 
 and chatted sometime together there at the corner. At last I 
 thought to myself, 'If bill had any money he'd have asked me 
 to drink long ago; I'll bet my life on that.' Doubtless he had 
 a similar thought about me; if he had, he was not mistaken. 
 
DOXJBLE-EIS-IDER, COFEEEIIOXJSES. 89 
 
 I would have given anything' for sixty cents jnst then ; for Bill 
 had a friend mth him, and I had a friend with me. We 
 chatted awhile longer, and then parted, Bill remarking, as he 
 started down Canal street y/ith his friend, ' Von, you know 
 where my place of business is, on Poydras street; you must 
 drop in and see me as you pass by.' Til do it Bill.'" 
 
 "My friend then said to me, 'Yon, I believe I've got thii-ty 
 cents left: suppose we go to the Sazarac?' I assented of 
 course; we went down Royal street, and of course entered the 
 bar-room from the Royal street end; and just as we reached 
 the counter, who should we run up against, face to face, but 
 Bill C and his friend, who had just come in at the Ex- 
 change alley end ! You should have seen the comical looks of 
 the party; it was a picture for a painter. It would have been 
 awkward, if Bill and I had not understood each other hke 
 tv/ins; as it was, we had a good laugh, and I 'chawed' him a 
 little about his place of business on Poydras street. The 
 actual 'situation' was developed there at the counter; Bill's 
 friend paid for his drink, and my friend! paid for mine. The 
 thing has, however, been amply rectified since; for Bill and I 
 both have money now, and whenever vv"e meet, 'tis just the 
 same as 'twas before the v/ar." 
 
 OH, MY! BOTH MARRIED. 
 
 We were in an omnibus yesterday, when a stylishly-dressed 
 young lady entered. "Whilst putting her ticket in the box, 
 another stylishly-dressed young lady, who sat in the corner, 
 raised her hands and eyebrows and opened her mouth. The 
 new comer, as soon as she got rid of her ticket, discovered the 
 other, and also raised her hands and opened her mouth. Both 
 smiled — such smiles ! and turned their faces from each other, 
 the next moment they were seated together, wringing hands 
 and grinning — but to our great disappointment there w^as no 
 kissing; owing, we suppose, to the publicity of the place. 
 
 And then followed a conversation — such a conversation! 
 "Why, Ellen!" "Virginia!" "My goodness! why, Ellen, where 
 did you spring from?" "Why, I've been in town a week — oh, 
 Jenny, hoAV fine you're looking!" "Don't talk that way — I 
 only wished I looked half as well as you!" "Oh, you get out!" 
 "But why haven't you been to see me, Ellen?" Here, owing 
 to the clatter outside the vehicle, we lost a good deal. As 
 soon as we could hear again — "It v^^as a nice thing of you to 
 12 
 
90 chesceis-t-shine. 
 
 get married that way, and run off without bidding your friends 
 good-bye ! You ought to be ashamed of yourself — and never 
 invited me to the wedding, either, or even sent me a piece of 
 cake." "Oh, that was because I knew you would soon have 
 plenty of cake of your own ! But tell me, Jenny — " 
 
 Here the heads went together, and such a whispering, and 
 such a shaking of shoulders, as there was ! Then, "I heard of 
 it all in Havana !" "You did! Who told you there, for good- 
 ness sake ?" " Captain R ." "Why, I don't know him !" 
 
 " That's nothing, he knows you, or says he does ! Oh, Jenny, 
 the news did me so much good — ^I was sorry I couldn't be here 
 to dance at the wedding !" " You wouldn't have done it, if 
 you had been here; to run off as you did, without even sending 
 me a piece of cake !" Here another vehicle interruption, 
 which, when past, found the heads together, and the shoulders 
 shaking again. 
 
 Once more, "But when are you coming to see me, Ellen?" 
 " Let me see— -I'll come day after to-morrow — that is, if I can 
 find the place. I'll look harder for it next time." " Oh, you 
 get out, you mean thing; you've never thought of me since 
 you got back, with that big whiskered husband of yours. If 
 you had looked for the house, I know you could'nt have missed 
 it." " Indeed, I did look, but if you don't take my word, yon 
 needn't." "Yer^^well; but be sure you come, now — do you 
 hear ? Oh, you've got such an account to give of yourself !" 
 " Yes, I'll be sure to come. Will your little ducky be at home, 
 think?" etc., etc., etc. 
 
 The conversation, however, did not amuse us half so much 
 as the manner and look of the brides to each other. Such 
 rich all-pervading smiles — such wide eyes — such an appetite as 
 they seemed to have for each other-— and such shy inventories 
 as they took of each other's rig ! It was too much for us, and 
 we got out. My goodness ! wonder what they'll say when they 
 find that one of the gentlemen who sat near them was only a 
 greedy eaves-dropping newspaper reporter ! 
 
TBE STOVE CONTROVERSY. 
 
 A lady witness in one of tlie District Courts, on Friday, was 
 asked her age. She indignantly refused to tell, and rated the 
 lawyer for his impertinence. The Court explained that a 
 knowledge of her age was necessary to the case at issue, and 
 that it was not in any spirit of idle curiosity or impertinence 
 that the question was asked. Still the lady prevaricated, and 
 finally became flatly stubborn. The Court then told her she 
 would have to answer the question. She hesitated a little, 
 and finaUy answered the question. She y/as twenty-five. The 
 Court then reprimanded her mildly for her obstinacy, adding 
 that twentj^-five was a youthful age, and not an age for any 
 lady to be ashamed to acknowledge. The trial proceeded, 
 and after a while the lady testified to incidents, of her own 
 knowledge and memory, which occurred twenty-seven years ago. 
 In the further course of the inquisition, the lady became so dis- 
 gusted with an opposing lawyer, our tall and handsome friend, 
 the Kentucky Colonel, that in replying to his questions she 
 turned her face aside, and hid it from his view with her fan. 
 He requested her politely to remove her fan and face him 
 when she spoke. She paid no attention to the request. The 
 Colonel then asked the Court to request the lady to do as he 
 had asked. The Court did so. That was the touch that fired 
 the lady completely. Dropping the fan suddenly, and facing 
 the Colonel with eyes flashing fire, she snapped at him, or 
 spat the words at him, as a cat might spit at a dog, "You're 
 TOO UGLY to look at !" The Colonel grimaced under the com- 
 pliment, but went on with his questions. Lawyers do meet 
 with tartars sometimes. 
 
 In publishing the following correspondence and reports, we 
 ask our readers to understand that we take no sides, but leave 
 all the parties to hold themselves responsible over their own 
 signatures. 
 
 COKRESPONDENCE. 
 
 Speead Eagle Stove Agency, 
 Corner Tclioupitoulas and Baronne streets. 
 
 New Orleans, Nov. 20, 1865 
 Messrs. Gassek & Hardhead, Agents Popocatapetl Cooking Stove: 
 
 Gents: You advertise tliat your Popocatapetl Stove is the best in creation. 
 We advertise the same thing in regard to our Spread Eagle Stove. AVe 
 cannot both be correct. We would therefore propose a test between the 
 two Stoves, to take x)lace in the presence of disinterested parties, at such 
 time and place as may suit your convenience. 
 We have the honor to remain, 
 
 Gents. , your most obk't sv'ts, 
 
 KICKSHAW & SPLIDGINGS. 
 
92 cptESCii:]>TT-siiiisrE. 
 
 Agency Popocatapetl Cooking Stove, ] 
 
 Poydras street, between Camp and Craps, [ 
 New Oeleans, Nov. 20, 1865. ) 
 Messrs. Kickshaw & Splidgings, Spread Eagle Stove Agency: 
 
 Gents: Happy to receive yours of this date. There is no doubt in our 
 minds that ours is infinitely the best stove, and would decline proposed 
 test, but for appearance of discourtesy, willing also to bring your stove 
 into notice by trial with ours, therefore accept proposal and name to-mor- 
 row, 21st inst., 12 M., as the time, and First District Nuisance Wharf as 
 the place. 
 
 Gents, receive assurances of regard, and 
 Believe us, yours truly, 
 
 GASSER & HAEDHEAD. 
 
 Beport of Committee on behalf of Spread Eagle Stove: 
 
 We, the undersigned, appointed a committee on behalf of Messrs. 
 Kickshaw & Splidgings, to decide upon the merits of their Spread Eagle 
 stove, in a test with the Popocatapetl stove of Messers. Gasser & Hard- 
 head, report as follows: 
 
 The stoves were placed tv/elve feet apart, and the fires were lit at pre- 
 cisely sis minutes after one P. M. Through funnels in top equal quanti- 
 ties each of flour, salt, sugar, butter, yeast powder and water were poured. 
 In three minutes exactly from time of lighting the fires, there were taken 
 from the Spread Eagle stove five magnificent loaves of splendidly baked 
 bread, which being distributed among the spectators, was eaten and 
 unanimously pronounced the best ever tasted, and fit for old Epicurus 
 himself There likewise came from the stove two rectangular slabs of 
 heavenly gingerbread, and four pounds of butter and w^ater crackers, 
 amidst which the guyasticutus might revel and the wangdoodles roar not 
 in vain. 
 
 The Pox^ocatapetl Stove was a miserable and most disgraceful failure. 
 The material poured in at the top leaked through all the, seams and 
 choked out the fire, which was making a most piteous effort to burn. Of 
 the material left in the stove, the only part baked w^as that on the side 
 ne.t to the Spread Eagle Stove. It v/as all in a mess that the hogs wouldn't 
 
 ' [Signed] EOWLY BOWLEY, 
 
 SAM. SNEEZEK, 
 G. YmiLLIKENS. 
 
 Beport of Committee on behalf of Popocatapetl: 
 
 The undersigned committee, appointed on behalf of the Popocatapetl 
 gtove of Messrs. Gasser & Hardhead, in a test of said stove against the 
 Spread Eagle Stove of Messrs. Kickshaw & Splidgings, have the felicity to 
 report: 
 
 Twelve feet distance betv^een the stoves; fires lit at Ih. 6m., and time 
 noted by one of Hyde & Goodrich's Jocky Club Btop watches, hired for 
 this occasion. In precisely tv/o minutes and seventeen seconds time, the 
 furnace doors were thrown open. The material, which had been poured 
 in through a funnel at the toi3, consisted of water, flour, yeast powder, 
 salt, butter and sugar. 
 
 Here is what came out of the Popocatapetl stove; Eight large loaves of 
 bread; which the multitude around, upon tasting, pronounced to be 
 entirely too good to talk about; one large Gothic wedding cake, with 
 
THE STOVE COT^rTP^OVER,SY. 
 
 93 
 
 Moresque [firostwork, surmounted by a Chinese pagoda, with a correct 
 effigy in sugar of Mile. Galletti, dancing the pas de fascination on the 
 pinnacle; ajar of cream candy; four j)ounds of pretzels and doughnuts; 
 sis pounds of square, round, and triangular butter and water crackers and 
 biscuits, stamped with the picture of the stove in operation and portrait 
 of inventor ; a package of starch ; several balls of meen fun ; a biography 
 of Aarah-na-Pogue; a year's subscription to the Crescent newspaper, and 
 a free ticket for the season to the Academy of Music. 
 
 The Spread Eagle Stove failed in the most disastrous and contemptible 
 manner; it demonstrated how terribly a too-credulous community maybe 
 imposed uj)on. When it was opened, the material inside v,^as found to 
 resemble a bucketful of scrapings from the bottom of Melpomene Canal; 
 and it was fit only to be used by the Queen of the Voudous to fill her 
 curse-bottles vath. 
 
 [Signed] TIM TALLTOCKEK, 
 
 FRANK FLYNCH, 
 JOHN LIMBUEG. 
 
 Decision of Umpire called in to decide between Commiiiee on Spread Eagle and 
 
 Popocaiapetl. 
 Decided, that both the annexed reports be laid on the table (or counter) 
 of any honest druggist, to be used as wra^Dpers for rat poison; that medals 
 of dog-leather, and copies of Prof Lie-big's Chemical Treatise on Swell- 
 heads, be presented to both committees; and that both stoves be stove in 
 and heaved into the Mississippi river, in the deepest known spot. 
 
 [Signed] 
 
 NEB. VON SLATHERKINS, 
 SOLOMON SMIFFLES. 
 
 OUR PICTURE GALLERY. 
 
 Kecentty, we gave a list of gentlemen, whose photographs 
 we wanted for our picture gallery. We now append a list of 
 ladies, for whose pictures Y/e will pay liberally either in love or 
 money, as they prefer: 
 
 The lady, who, being really such, does not apparently know it. 
 
 The lady in whom ail her lady friends can't detect the small- 
 
 est 
 
 fault or flaY\^ in the world. 
 
 The lady who never uses different forms or styles of Enghsh 
 in the kitchen and the parlor. 
 
 The lady v^ho never takes a "fiy " in her soda or lemonade, 
 in the back room at Lopez's or Bellanger's. 
 
 The lady who never sr)anks her baby in public or in private, 
 but always smothers it in loving caresses, and always calls it 
 muzzer's litty sweety darlin pet angy soogy lumpy. 
 
 The lady who never smuggles her baby into the theater at 
 night. 
 
94 
 
 CE.ESCET^T-SKIlSrE. 
 
 The lady in peacock costume wlio on the street meets an old 
 school-mate in cheaper dress, and deigns to nod as they meet, 
 or turn to look at cheapy after they have passed. 
 
 The lady in cheap dress who meets her old school-mate in 
 peacock dress, Vvithout turning to take a good look after her. 
 
 The two ladies who, being about equally dressed, and meet- 
 ing on the street, never accidentally turn to look after each 
 other at the same moment. 
 
 The lady who, on entering a drj^-goods store, always buys 
 in proportion to the trouble she gives the clerks. 
 
 The lad}^ w^ho, in a dry-goods or fancy store, ever bought 
 instantly the first article shown to her. 
 
 The lady who never fails to smile and say thanky to the nice 
 gentleman or rough hod-carrier who gives her his seat in a 
 street-car. 
 
 The lady w^ho in w^alking along the street always swerves a 
 little, to give those she meets a chance to pass. 
 
 The lady who never took a side-glance at herself in passing 
 the mirror-hke shop-windows on Canal street. 
 
 The lady who well assures herself that her husband is out of 
 debt, before she asks him for a few hundred in greenbacks to 
 go sho|)ping with. 
 
 The lady who, with a gorgeous wardrobe, does not aim to 
 pique her lady neighbors and please her husband's fiiends, 
 rather than to please the poor husband himself. 
 
 The lady who, upon hearing a piece of scandal about a neigh- 
 bor, says to the informer, keep it to yourself; it's none of my 
 concern. 
 
 The lady who, having listened to a piece of scandal, never 
 told it to anybody else. 
 
 These are not all the feminine pictures we v.^ant. We will 
 finish the list another time. 
 
WHICH WAS RIGHT! 
 
 "Von," v/hispered Smiffy the other night, as they sat together 
 in the parquette in the Varieties, " AVho are those people ?" 
 
 He alluded to a party of ladies with their escorts, who had 
 just entered and were taking their seats, it being then near the 
 close of the first act. 
 
 " They belong," replied Von, "to some of the first families 
 of our State; to a circle in society noted for its wealth, intelli- 
 gence, and superior style in matters of fashion and general 
 etiquette. 'Aristocratic' may not be the proper word; but 
 they are decidedly 'upper-crust' people." 
 
 "What families are they? what are the names?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "You don't? Then how do you know so much about them 
 without knowing their names ?" 
 
 " By what I saw of them, just now, when they entered. 
 One of the best evidences of birth and* high breeding, in such 
 people, is a lofty disregard of the feelings and conveniences of 
 common people; and in nothing is this more beautifully shown, 
 than in the aristocratic and highly fashionable habit of en- 
 gaging seats in a theater near the stage, for the express pur- 
 pose of not occupying them until the play is quarter or half 
 over. By this, upon entering, they draw upon themselves the 
 attention not only of the entire audience, but of the players 
 upon the stage. In their slow and laborious progress through 
 the crowd to their seats, they create a hiatus in the play to all 
 they leave in their wake, whilst the noise disturbs all the 
 audience, and causes many an one to breathe 'curses, not loud 
 but deep.' A thousand people are required to sacrifice perhaps 
 the best part of an act to the vanity or exclusiveness of these 
 upper-crusters; because, you see, it would never do for them 
 to come and take their seats before the curtain rose; that 
 would be common or vulgar^ — it would be reducing themselves 
 to the level of the canaille. By such a vulgarity their presence 
 in the audience might not be particularly noticed by anybody; 
 v\^hilst, by coming late, when the play is in progress, they com- 
 pel the whole audience to take note of their presence, and to 
 remember it, too. It's a grievous nuisance to us common folks; 
 but I suppose there's no help for it." 
 
 "Von, I think you're too severe. You are by no means sure 
 of the cause of that party's late arrival. I have been looking 
 at them closely, and I can't see that they are such a very proud- 
 looking set. I will not be as positive in my opinion as you 
 
96 
 
 ciiii:scE]S"T-siiiisrE. 
 
 are in yours, for we are all liable to make mistakes; but ym 
 private opinion is, that they are poor folks in their Sunday 
 clothes; and came not to put on airs, but because they couldn't 
 come any sooner. Times are hard; servants are scarce; thou- 
 sands of ladies now have to do their own housework; and those 
 ladies there have a settled-down, married sort of a look, I 
 think. How do you know but what, after supper, one or more 
 of those ladies had to wash and put away the dishes, and put 
 the baby to bed, and then dress to come here ? Beca^use they 
 have hard times at home, is that any reason why they should 
 not come here to snatch an alleviating morsel of enjoyment, 
 the same as other people ? And should they be too severely 
 denounced, because it was impossible for them to come 
 sooner ?" 
 
 " It may be as you say, Smiffy, and it may not. No matter 
 Vfhat the cause, the nuisance is all the same. I think there 
 ought to be an ordinance, requiring people who enter theaters 
 during the play, to remain in the lobby till the end of the act, 
 when they can get their seats without disturbing anybody; just 
 as persons arriving at church during prayers, remain in the 
 vestibule till prayers a^re over." 
 
 "An odd idea. Yon — ^bringing chui'ches and theaters to- 
 gether." 
 
 "Not at all. The comfort of the multitude is the gTand 
 requisite in both cases. But as to this theatrical nuisance; it 
 matters nothing to me whether those ladies be princesses or 
 dish-washers, I can forgive even the peanut eaters before I can 
 forgive them; and" — 
 
 " Gentlemen," said a polite usher vv^ho came up, the whispered 
 confab having, insensibly to them, risen to a distinctly audible 
 voice, "please don't talli so loud." And that ended the inter- 
 esting conversation. 
 
THE GREAT DUCK CASE. 
 
 Few people have an idea of the full extent and scope of the 
 law, or how far it can be made to subserve and perpetuate 
 antagonisms arising out of little or nothing. The convenience 
 of law, as a meatus of offensive and defensive warfare, has 
 lately been beautifully illustrated in the case of two amiable 
 Celtic families, the McGees and the Flannerys, residing on 
 Bertrand street, in the rural confines of the First District. 
 
 The two families form a rare and rather admirable excep- 
 tion to the generality of theii* class; for though they be next- 
 door neiohbors and entertain for each other all that neiffh- 
 
 o o 
 
 borly amenity which resulted in the destruction of the Kil- 
 kenny cats, they have never yet come to blows. Y\^ith a praise- 
 worthy refinement of taste, they resorted to the law; and the 
 fight, which is not yet finished, has so far been beautiful. The 
 case is briefly this : 
 
 Some three weeks since, a very common and unpretending- 
 specimen of a duck, routed at the high valuation of one dollar, 
 was quietly gobbhng in the 3^ard of the McG-ees, when Mrs. 
 Flannery, who claimed the duck as hers, invaded the yard 
 in company with a policeman, (Duncan, formerly of jewel 
 celebrity) seized the duck, and carried it home in triumph; 
 Mrs. McG-ee, who also claimed the duck, looked ux3on this as a 
 great outrage, made a great noise, and spread the duck excite- 
 ment throughout the neighborhood. Some of her neighbors 
 told her to go to law about it, and she did. She had Mrs. 
 Flannery and the policeman arrested for trespass and robbery. 
 The case being now fairly on a war-footing, the husbands of 
 the ladies came gallantly to their rescue. They opened their 
 purses, and there was a great dravdng up of witnesses, and 
 hiring of lawyers, on all sides. 
 
 The case was examined before Eecorder Summers on the 
 22nd of July. Some twenty or thirty witnesses were on hand 
 to swear to the identity of the duck; the duck itself was in 
 Court, with its ugly head sticking out of a basket; the Coui't 
 was crowded with spectators; the examination occupied a great 
 part of the day; and an innocent visitor to the Court might 
 have fancied, from the forensic displays of the opposing 
 counsel, and the breathless attention of the Court and specta- 
 tors, that another Gaines case was on the carpet. The Recor- 
 der disposed of the case by dismissing the policeman, fining 
 13 
 
98 
 
 CItESCElNrT-SHIN"E. 
 
 the ladies for a breach of the peace, and refusing to decide as 
 to the ownership of the duck, that being, as he considered, a 
 matter for civil adjudication. So Mrs. Flannery carried home 
 the duck, as she had brought it, in high triumph. 
 
 The following week, the McGees instituted suit for the 
 recovery of the duck, before Justice Bradford. The Flan- 
 nerys, in their answer, declared the duck to be theh'S, and 
 gave out that they would stand any amount of law upon it. 
 The McGees then prayed for a writ of sequestration on the 
 duck, to prevent the Flannerys from cooking it, or sending it 
 out of the State during the pendency of the suit. The 
 writ was issued, and Constable Simpson went to execute it. 
 Visiting the mansion of the Flannerys, and politely inquiring 
 for the duck, the ladies informed him there was no duck about 
 there. The Constable doubted; and begging pardon for the 
 intrusion, walked through the house on a search. He investi- 
 gated every nook and cranny, Mrs. Flannery and a lady friend 
 following him, and criticising his conduct in no very amiable 
 manner. 
 
 The Constable was about to abandon the search, when he 
 heard a duck quacking. Searching anevv^, he discovered a 
 duck, the duck locked up in a kitchen. 
 
 He asked the ladies to let him in at the duck, 
 defied him, and began abusing him horribly, 
 door by a vigorous application of his foot, and 
 as he did so, the ladies rushed in with him. 
 him, and hugged him with all the fervor of 
 whilst the other grabbed up the duck, put it under her arm, 
 and started to run off with it. Getting loose finally from this 
 jDowerf al antagonist, the officer started after the lady with ihe 
 duck. The yard, or lot, was a very large one, v\^ith ample room 
 for foot-racing. The lady Vv^ith the ducli ran round and round 
 the lot several times, screaming murder at the top of her 
 voice and dodging the officers heading with a quickness and 
 agilitj' that woukl have done honor to p.ny man; the other lady 
 meantime chasing the officer, and also screaming murder. 
 
 Finally the loAj with the duck bolted through a gate into 
 the street. A young gentleman, who had accompanied the 
 Constable, in expectation of fun, was standing just outside the 
 gate. " Catch her, Bill !" shouted the Constable, as the lady 
 with the duck bolted through the gate; and Bill caught her. 
 The other lady came to the rescue, and the two men had a 
 lively rough and tumble with the ladies before they could suc- 
 ceed in getting off with the duck. The noise and excitement 
 drew a great crowd of the suburban settlers around, including 
 
 They openly 
 
 He lifted the 
 
 rushed in, but 
 
 One grappled 
 
 an anaconda. 
 
THE G-RE^T DXJCIi C^SE. 99 
 
 tlie McGees. None of the outsiders showed any disposition 
 to interfere; they had been Hving on the duck excitement for 
 some time, and apparently relished a continuance of it. 
 
 The Constable had scarcely got to Court with the duck, 
 when ]\ir. Flo^nnery arrived, and offered good security that 
 he would neither harm the duck nor smuggle it off before the 
 day of trial. His bond was taken, and he carried the duck 
 back home. The momentous day came; and the Flannerys 
 and McGees, and the bii-d in dispute, and all the lawj'-ers and 
 witnesses, and all the fun-loving spectators, who had figured 
 in the scene before Kecorder Summers, had a repetition of the 
 excitement before Justice Bradford. There was tall SAvearing 
 on both sides, and great and learned disputation among the 
 lawyers. The case consumed the day. The Judge wouldn't 
 have the duck kept in Court; it v^as kept in its basket, in the 
 back ofiice; and Mrs. Flannery, v>'-ho was more or less insane 
 during the day, would run for the duck and bring it into 
 Court every time its identity came into dispute. She was 
 stopped only by a threat of the Judge to send both her and 
 the duck to prison. 
 
 The Judge decided that the duck belonged to the McGees. 
 The Flannerys having carried the duck home before judgment 
 was rendered, Mr. McGee was furnished with an order on the 
 Flannerys, commanding them to deliver over the duck in 
 question, or the value thereof, one dollar. Mr. McGee took 
 the order, and being p.pprehensive of a fight, got an officer to 
 accompany him. Before reaching the mansion of the Flan- 
 nerys, McGee discovered that the order left it optionary with 
 the Flannerys to give him the duck or a dollar, vf hichever they 
 might choose. Apprehending that they would offer him a 
 dollar, and keep the duck out of spite, he stopped. He didn't 
 want the dollar, or a hundred dollars; he wanted only the 
 duck, and nothing but the duck. He returned to Court, and 
 requested the Judge to so change the order as to leave the 
 Flannerys no other alternative than that of handing over the 
 duck. The Judge, who was sick of the case, changed the 
 order. Mr. McGee went with the officer, and got the duck. 
 There was jubilee that night in the mansion of the McGees, 
 and has been ever since, for the duck was and still is there; 
 and in the neighboring mansion of the Flannerys there has 
 been grief and indignation, fulminating in a determination 
 never to give up the duck whilst law is to be had and money 
 on hand to pay the expenses. 
 
 For the Flannerys have appealed the case to the Third Dis- 
 trict Court. Each of the parties has already spent about $100 
 
100 
 
 CRESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 M 
 
 in costs and lawyers' fees, and there is a probability that they 
 will spend as mncli more. 
 
 Should Jndge Duvigneaiid reverse Judge Bradford's deci- 
 sion, and restore the duck to the Elannerys, the next move of 
 the McGees will be to appeal from him to the Supreme Court. 
 All this is making a very celebrated bird out of a very common 
 and unsuspec' ing old duck. 
 
 TIT FOR TAT. 
 
 The Chief of Police got even with a gentleman from Natchez, 
 who had previously put him in, by some trick, for a basket of 
 Heidsieck. "Whilst taking a rogue to Clark's, to be photo- 
 graphed for his "rogue's gallerj^," the Chief met his Natchez 
 friend, and invited him to come along. The gentleman ac- 
 cepted the invitation, not suspecting the status of the Chief's 
 other friend. The silent gentleman sat for hj.s ]Dicture. The 
 Chief flattered his Natchez friend into a consent to sit for his 
 picture, also. Clark "took him off" in style, ne.turally sup- 
 posing that he, as well as the other, v/as a thief. All left. 
 Next day, Clark, passing a clothing-store, saw his Natchez 
 customer selecting a suit of summer toggery. Clark immedi- 
 ately went into the store by a round-a-bout way, and whis- 
 pered to the proprietor that that customer was a thief — the 
 Chief had had his picture taken only the day before. The 
 alarm was telegTaj)hed, and the unsuspecting gentleman, for 
 the remainder of the time he was in the store, was v/atched 
 with a dozen pairs of eyes that didn't seem to be watching at 
 all. He left v/ithout buying anything, and made the thing- 
 sure that he had only been v/atching his chance to steal some- 
 thing. The thing is now understood on all sides; and the 
 Natchez gentleman confesses that the Chief is one lick ahead 
 of him. 
 
THE DAYLIGHT STAR GAZERS. 
 
 "Crowds amazing 
 
 Upward gazing, 
 
 What on earth's the matter?" 
 
 * ' A queen's abed — 
 
 Just overhead, 
 
 And they are staring at her! " 
 
 ' ' The deuce you saj^ ! 
 Where does she hiy ? 
 A queen, forsooth, and sleeping ! 
 In broad dajdight, 
 ' Tis sure a sight 
 Will pay us for the peeping!" 
 
 "Well, look right straight 
 
 Above 3'our pate, 
 And sing out, when j^ou find it — 
 
 A star, scarce bigger 
 
 Than a jigger, 
 With a patch of cloud behing it!' 
 
 "Oh, yes! I see! 
 
 Now, I'll agree 
 The sight is rather taking ! 
 
 Yes, by Mahomet, 
 
 It is the comet — 
 I see its tail a shaking ! " 
 
 " No, no, you loon! 
 That's but the moon. 
 
 She's growing evanescent — 
 Showing above 
 The thing we love. 
 
 Another Daily Crescent ! " 
 
 ' ' But Where's the star? " 
 ' ' What a gump you are ! 
 
 The sky is not so hazy ! " 
 ' ' In vain I squint — 
 There's nothing in't — 
 
 I believe the town is crazy !" 
 
 ' ' This glass then try, 
 
 ' Tvv^ill aid your eye 
 
 In searching for the planet — 
 
 For though, between us, 
 
 It's only Venus, 
 
 No comet's prettier than it!" 
 
 "If that's the case. 
 Just take my place ! 
 
 Such folly makes me risible ! 
 I'll wait till night, 
 When by their light 
 
 A ihousand stars are visible!" 
 
DEATH OF LIEUT. COL. DREUX. 
 
 The telegrapliic announcement, on Saturda}^ afternoon, that 
 Lieut. Col. Charles D. Drenx had fallen in a skirmish with the 
 enemy near Newport News, in Virginia, fell like a shock, and 
 with saddening effect, upon this community. The hope was 
 at once entertained that this news might prove to be as false as 
 many previous telegraphic statements had proven to be; but, 
 unfortunately, it was so abundantly confirmed by private dis- 
 patches from different reliable sources that the hope had to be 
 abandoned, and the sad fact realized that the generous and 
 chivalrous Charley Dreux was no more. 
 
 The death of this officer is the first stunning blow that New 
 Orleans has received during the present war. It is needless to 
 speak at length of one who was so extensively known, so uni- 
 versally admired and esteemed, here at his home in New 
 Orleans. As one who knew him long and. intimately, we cannot 
 speak of his death but with the deepest feeling. A son of one 
 of the oldest Creole families of Louisiana, filled with the warm 
 blood and all the generous impulses of his ov/n Sunny South; 
 thoroughly educated — a lav/yer and a soldier — an ornament to 
 the bar and an honor to the army; on the rostrum, an im- 
 promptu orator of matchless eloquence and vigor; in the 
 social circle, a never-failing fountain of genial converse, wit, 
 and good humor; the pride of his familj-, as a son, brother 
 and husband; full of life and energy in all things; kind- 
 hearted and generous to a fault — his was one of those electric 
 spirits that attract and infuse vitality into other spirits, and 
 secure their love and devotion as with hooks of steel. 
 
 The brief but brilliant career of the deceased, from the time 
 of his departure hence as Captain of the Orleans Cadets to his 
 sad death as a Lieutenant-Colonel in Yirginia, needs no re- 
 capitulation at our hands. His genius as a military officer w^as 
 recognized and respected by his superior officers everywhere; 
 and he seemed to be fairly on the high road to greatness, when 
 he met that relentless tyrant Vv^ho so loves a shining mark. 
 But, after time shall have healed the affiiction of his relatives, 
 and the sadness of his many thousands of friends, there will 
 be left a pride in which all may share — the pride of knowing 
 that Charley Dreux died a v/arrior's death — the death of a 
 chfvalrous hearted and noble-souled patriot, fighting for the 
 honor and freedom of his loved Southern home; the first 
 victim, as well as the brightest, that Louisiana has yet con- 
 tributed to the v/ar. 
 
DE^^^TI-I OF LIEUT. COL. DnEXJX. 103 
 
 It is believed tliat Colonel Dreux's death is cliiefly attribut- 
 able to liis youthful daring — for he was only thirty j^ears of 
 age — in engaging* with a superior force of the enemy and 
 leading his men to the attack. He was not the commander to 
 say, "Advance, men;" his style was rather, "Come on, boys." 
 And in the gloom occasioned by his untimely demise, we must 
 prepare ourselves for the other sad and inevitable calamities of 
 the pending conilict. Many another noble soul will have to 
 wing its flight ere the South be fi'ee. Such is war. 
 
 THE CAMP AT COLUMBUS 
 
 During the bitter cold spell of which I have spoken, many 
 of the regiments ceased "waiting for lumber, and went to cut- 
 ting timber, building log cabins, and digging earth-houses in 
 the hill sides, or gopher-holes, as many of the boys call them. 
 Others boarded up the ends or sides of their tents with such 
 plank as could be found without a guard over it; and hosts of 
 the tents are decorated v^ith chimneys made of mud, brick, 
 boards, barrels, or anything handy. The amount of digging 
 already done is prodigious, and the earth-houses are a sight 
 to see, inside and out. A more novel or strange-looking camp 
 than this is at present has certainly never been seen on the 
 American continent since the revolution. The other night, as 
 the camp-nres and the rays of light from the chimneys or 
 smoke-holes of the earth-houses lit up the falling snow with a 
 ruddy glare, showing tents, board shanties, log cabins, earth- 
 houses, and all covered alike with the white blanket of Boreas, 
 the scene cpJled to mind what we have all heard and read of 
 that terrible winter of old in Valley Forge. But here there 
 was no such suffering. The well-muffled sentinels trod their 
 beats with a contented air, whilst many of the soldiers, espe- 
 cially the Louisianians, indulged, night as it was, in the most 
 uproarious bouts at snow-balling. Music and other sounds of 
 good cheer, besides, were to be heard, for all the snow-storm. 
 I heard one dehcious chorus of manly voices, which seemed to 
 issue from the air above — now here — now there, and again 
 nowhere in particular. Puzzled, I investigated the mystery, 
 till I found that the song was in one of the gopher-holes, the 
 melody coming out at the chimney with the smoke of the 
 blazing fire below. I should mention that many of these 
 
104 CR.ESCElS'T-SI-IIlNrE. 
 
 eartli-hoiises are constructed upon scientific principles, with 
 regard to the healtli of the occupants; especially those on the 
 ravines, which are rather dug into the hillside than downward 
 into the earth. Many of them, after being dug, have been 
 thoroughly baked with fire, thus hardening and drying the 
 bottom and sides; then covered firmly with logs and other 
 rafters, in their turn covered with earth a foot or more thick; 
 a big fire-place and excavated chimney are at the inner end; 
 the mess table and cooking things come next the fire; and then, 
 around the outer end, or entrance, come the wooden sleeping 
 banks, ranged one over another, three tiers deep, steamboat 
 fashion. Others, dug in level ground, have only tents for 
 covers, with cots or beds level with the earth's surface, whilst 
 the cooking and eating is done deep in the earth beneath. All 
 this luxury, bear in mind, is enjoyed only by a portion of the 
 army — those who are good diggers and underground architects, 
 and have the luck to be jposted where the ground slopes or 
 where there is room for such improvements. There are thou- 
 sands who still have no better shelter than their little flimsy 
 tents, which the wintry gales flap and crack like vv^hip-lashes 
 over them as they lie smuggled together in their blankets at 
 night. When the lumber arrives, the barracks will go up like 
 magic — that is, should the enemy not rout us out of here, as 
 they lately thought of doing. 
 
 You will of course desire to knovv^ all that I know in refer- 
 ence to the threatened attack here, our means of resisting it, 
 and all that sort of thing. I will not, like some " high-falutin " 
 correspondents who have been here, merely rendering dark- 
 ness more visible, set forth how I breakfasted with Colonel 
 This and dined with General That, and how all my informa- 
 tion is from the most highly reliable and severely respectable 
 sources, and then launch forth into a labyrinth of possibihties 
 and probabilities as to what we or the enemy may or may 
 not do, or might or might not have done, couched in " words 
 of learned length and thundering sound," and boshy verbosity 
 in general, to prove that I am the greatest and most reliable 
 aiid learned correspondent living. No; I'm "narysich!" If 
 you wish my opinion as to the probability of an early battle, I 
 answer that I have none, and do not pretend to calculate events 
 one day ahead of the present time. I will just give you such 
 items as float around camp, and from them, if you can, you 
 may form your own opinion. 
 
 "Until lately, another and a gigantic attack was expected on 
 this place, but now it is not. The latest reports from Missouri 
 are that Price was marching on St. Louis with 50,000 men, in 
 
THE C^IVEI' ^T COLTJ3MI3XJS. 105 
 
 four columns, whilst it is quite certain that the large force 
 which so speedily assembled at Cairo was as speedily with- 
 drawn for the defence of St. Louis. Eeleased prisoners who 
 came down to-day report the whole force in and around Cairo 
 as not exceedmg 10,000 men. This seems to lift all present 
 pressure off Columbus, and now the universal debate is, shall 
 we or will we attack Cairo '? The latest reports from Paducah 
 represent that place as occupied by but a small force of Hes- 
 sians. The talk of 100,000 men and fifty gunboats attacking 
 us simultaneously by land and water, and surrounding and 
 starring us out has never been believed here that I can dis- 
 cover, but there is this feeling and belief, that should such an 
 attack be made, it will result in the inglorious defeat and 
 bloody slaughter of the attacking party — the battle of Columbus 
 following Belmont just as Manassas follov^^ed Bull Eun. One 
 thing is certain, we have men and the tools to do the fighting 
 Avith, and we are ready. 
 
 None are more impatient for the " tug of v^^ar " than the 
 commanders and crews of the gunboat fleet now here from 
 New Orleans. The arrival of this fleet adds another feature 
 to this sufficiently i^icturesque locality. To see commodores, 
 middies, and regular old jack-tars, mingling with the wild 
 Tennesseeans and other backwoods people here, in the heart 
 of the continent, vrith their masted ocean craft lining the 
 landing, is odd enough, and seems to verify the compliment 
 Calhoun paid the Mississippi v/hen he called it our " inland 
 sea." Three of the gunboats last Sunday went up, and two of 
 them belched forth their compliments to Fort Holt, within 
 sight of CairO' — ^the fort replying, but nobody getting hurt on 
 either side. The proceeding is said to have created the greatest 
 amazement at Cairo, this being the first appearance of rebel 
 war vessels in sight of that interesting village. KM hands of 
 the fleet are well and in high spiiits, and Commodore Hollins 
 has his cjuarters on board the steamer Prince. 
 
 Colonel Gibson's Thirteenth Louisiana regiment arrived a 
 few days ago in excellent condition and eager for the fray. A 
 regiment better provided vdth clothing and other comforts for 
 camp has not 3^et come to this place. The Zouave costume of 
 some of the companies fairly knocked our backvvoods soldiers 
 " all of a heap." You can just tell your friends that the Thir- 
 teenth is voted one of the most powerful and well-conditioned 
 regiments, as well as the very gayest, that has yet come to 
 Columbus. The boys arrived here in the snow storm, and 
 staid aboard the steamer that night. 
 
 This morning the steamer Scotland landed here the Third 
 14 
 
106 
 
 CR.ESCEN-T-SIII1S-E. 
 
 Mississippi regiment, all tlie way from the Gulf coast — a noble 
 band of men, whose arrival created the greatest enthusiasm. 
 We'll have soldiers enough after awhile, if they keep on pour- 
 ing in. 
 
 The great Missouri swamp fox, the Marion of this revolu- 
 tion — you must know I mean General M. Jeff. Thompson — was 
 in town to-day. I cannot say he is in town; for, like the 
 Hibernian flea, he seems to be here, there, and everywhere all 
 at once. As he stepped leisurely over some barrels on the 
 landing, I would not have known him but for the ineA-itable 
 white-handled bowie-knife, which he carries as no other man 
 carries a knife — stuck perpendicularly in his belt on the middle 
 of his back; for he now v/ears a genteel regulation uniform, 
 befitting a General. His old slouched v/hite hat and feather, 
 bob-tailed coat, short pants and rough boots, which made him 
 look more like a cattle-drover than a General, and in which he 
 did his earlier deeds of daring, have been laid aside, and now 
 he has really a military look. Let me picture this man to you. 
 Imagine a tall, lean, lank, wirj'-looking customer, at least six 
 feet high and slender as a pair of tongs; a thin, long head, 
 with a very long nose; what you would call a hatchet face; 
 thick yellow hair, combed back of his ears and bobbed off 
 short, displaying a very long and thin neck; face healthy and 
 ruddy, vv^ithout a vestige of beard or moustache; some thirty 
 or thirty-five years of age ; light blue eyes, with a friendly and 
 benevolent expression; a placid, well-shaped mouth, with a 
 half-smile always playing about the corners; a little stoop- 
 shouldered; slightly ban dj^-legged from much riding on horse- 
 back; easy and graceful in his movements, as well on foot as 
 in the saddle; mild-voiced and unassummg in a crowd; hill of 
 rough-soldier language in his talk to all; his manner and tone 
 of voice the same to all, from a Major-General down to a 
 negro; imagine such a person as this, I say, and you will have 
 a pretty correct idea of the famous Jeff. Thompson. He is 
 about the last person you would take for Jeff. Thompson, after 
 forming your idea from what you had heard of him. He is 
 perpetually full of fun, and never gets to talking without set- 
 tmg all around him to laughing; it is believed, indeed, that he 
 fights chiefiy for the fun of it. The camp is full of Jeff. 
 Thompson's jokes, or rather the odd dialogues he has had with 
 friends and enemies. 
 
 What he v/as in town for I did not ascertain; as I did not 
 button-hole him, and tell him I was the Special and Extra- 
 ordinary Western Military War Correspondent of the New 
 Orleans Daily Crescent. It is said that the time of most of 
 
TI-IE C^IMF ^T COLXJIMBUS. 107 
 
 his men is up, and tliat lie will be assigned a command in the 
 Confederate service — he having heretofore belonged exclusively 
 to the Missouri State service. 
 
 I have already said something about released prisoners 
 coming down from Cairo. To-day the steamer latan came 
 down under a white flag; she v/as stopped above the point, and 
 our steamer, the Yazoo, v/ith the proper ofiicers on board, went 
 up to meet her. Her errand was to deliver v^thin our lines 
 General Frost, Major Willipcms, and some seventy others of 
 the Camp Jackson prisoners, taken b}^ the Hessians at the first 
 outbreak in St. Louis, released on parole, and now entirely 
 released in exchange for Colonel Mulligan and his men, lately 
 taken by our forces at Lexington. This party of prisoners 
 had expected their release in St. Louis, and intended to go 
 a-nd join Price; but the authorities there maliciously put them 
 on a steamer and sent them to this place. Colonel Buford, of 
 Cairo, came as ofiicer of the party. Mr. Nadaud, the hospital 
 steward of this battalion, was added to the party as a prisoner 
 at Cairo. He Vv^as one of the paroled Camp Jackson prisoners, 
 and having not taken up arms against Lincoln, though acting 
 as hospital steward for as salty a band of anti-Lincolnites as 
 can be found, got the necessary pass here, and left, intending 
 to visit his wife at St. Louis; -but had the misfortune to reach 
 General. Grant's quarters, in Cairo, on Sunday afternoon, just 
 as our gunboats commenced banging away at Fort Holt, only 
 a few miles from there. Despite his papers he was calaboosed 
 v\^ith other secesliers, and added to the downward bound Camp 
 Jackson party when they arrived. He describes the martial 
 law in Cairo as terribly severe upon the citizens, who are nearly 
 all secessionists. From Lieut. Barclay, one of the released, I 
 obtained late St. Louis papers, which I send with this. 
 
 As the Yazoo neared the latan to-day, one of the prisoners 
 on the latter exclaimed, "Why look, hang me if there ain't 
 Jeff. Thompson, standing on the guard 1 " " Y/here, which is 
 him ?" quickly asked Colonel Buford. Jeff, was pointed out, 
 and long and intense was the scrutiny indulged in by the 
 Hessian Colonel. When the boats lashed and the officers met, 
 there was the usual shaking of hands, introductions, etc. ; and 
 when Jeff, made the acquaintance of Buford, he smilingly 
 remarked, "I believe you're the man that was after me a few- 
 days ago?" " Yes, I am," was the polite response. The crowd 
 gathered around to hear the chat. And it was one of the 
 chats. "How is it. General," asked the Colonel, "that you 
 are in so many places at the same time ? I thought you were 
 at New Madrid, getting ready to wipe us out if we came 
 
108 
 
 : CRESCET^T-SHIN-E. 
 
 there?" " You did, eh ?" said Jeff, laughing; " but you see I'm 
 here now, don't you?" "Yes, I believe I do." The whole 
 conversation need not be reported. I will mention only, as 
 they are told to me, a few of the sharp ralhes that occurred 
 during half an hour's conversation, rendered the more free 
 and good humored by — well, I won't say what. " You're not 
 such a very savage-looking man," said the Colonel, taking 
 in Jeff's good humored face and gaunt anatomyat a glance. 
 "My wife is the only person who ever called me good look- 
 ing," he answered; "I've never been troubled about men's 
 opinion of my looks." '•' '^ "^^ * jk * * 
 " General, how do you manage to fly about so fast with your 
 men — how is it you are never where we expect to find you ?" 
 "Because I'm fast and you're slow, that's all." "But why 
 don't you stop somewhere, and give us an open fight ?" " Did'nt 
 I do it at Fredericktown ?" " Yes, but didn't we run you ?" 
 "Not much, you didn't; but I didn't want to fight you there; 
 you had ten to one against me, and I knew d — d well you could 
 clean me out; but for one thing, you would never have got a 
 shot at us." "What was that?" " WeU, you see, I had a lot 
 of wagons loaded with lead and things to keep up the fun 
 with; the roads were bad, and we had to stay behind and fool 
 with you till the wagons got on a piece. I need'nt say how 
 much lead we had, but it was enough to last us about two 
 years." " Then you don't intend to give up the fight ?" " Not 
 much, I don't." " Well, General, what are you fighting for, 
 anyhow?" " Colonel, what are you fighting for?" "I'm fight- 
 ing for the Union." "And I'm fighting for the Union, too, 
 and I'm now a better Union man than ever you dare to ]3e; I 
 always was a Union man, and am fighting for the Southern 
 Union, the only real Union nov/ in America; the Yankees and 
 the Dutch are leading jotxy Northern Union to the devil as fast 
 as they know how. I know^. Colonel, that you and most of yom- 
 officers are gentlemen and brave men, and will fight well when- 
 ever you have the chance ; but the trouble is you havn't got the 
 men to back you. I'm ready to make a contract with your 
 Government to meet you in the open field, one to four, and 
 clean you out every time." " General, I'm afraid you have the 
 advantage of me in one respect, and that's in bragging." "No, 
 Colonel, I'm not bragging; I'll engage with you or any of your 
 leaders to fight you a square open fight with one man to your 
 four; I've never given you an open fight, because you send ten 
 or twenty or fifty men to my one. If you'd come at me vfith 
 even numbers, I wouldn't leave a grease s]3ot of you." "' So, 
 then, you luill keep on fighting in your own way ! " "Yes, we'll 
 
THE c^:Mr» -Ajr cot^uimbus. 109 
 
 fight you till h — 1 freezes OA^er, and then fight you on the ice!" 
 * * * " General, I can't imagine how you stand the fatigue 
 of your many long and rapid rides; you must be a tough one." 
 " It's practice. I've been in the saddle as much as out of it 
 for the last fifteen years, and am used to all sorts of camping 
 out and roughing it in the woods, and most of my men are 
 just as experienced." "In the army all that time ?" "Oh, no; 
 you ought to know I'm a surveyor and civil engineer. I laid 
 out the Hannibal and St. Jo. Eaiiroad, and know all about that 
 sort of business." " But I don't see how your men stand it, 
 traveling so constantly and so rapidly." "They stand it 
 because they are 'men,' and have got the grit. Your men are 
 generally played out before they get into a fight, carrying- 
 blanket coats, bags of bread and ham, and other traps enough 
 to kill a mule or fill a hotel. My men always carry their victuals 
 inside, and don't bother about clothes; some of them now are 
 bare footed and bare legged." "General!" "It's so sir." 
 "Well, General, I'll have to give in. You'll excuse me, but 
 I'd like to have your picture to show to my friends, esjDecially 
 the ladies, who are dying to see you; and I'd like to write 
 under the picture what you have been saying." ^ ^ t~ 
 
 General Thompson's capture of the steamer Platte Valley, 
 and the spies and drawings on board, within the enemy's lines, 
 was the most darmg and brilliant of all his feats. But Jeff, 
 did not, as stated, hang the spies. He treated them decently, 
 and handed them over to the authorities here, and if I am not 
 mistaken they are still in our custody. 
 
 Mter further good-humored badinage, the General and the 
 Colonel shook hands cordially to part; as their hands were still 
 grasped, Thompson said: "Colonel, we're good friends now; 
 but if ever we meet in battle, it will be very different." At 
 which Buford smiled, without remark. He was doubtless more 
 than satisfied at having "met and measured" the "inevitable 
 and irrepressible Jeff. Thompson." 
 
 Kind editor and indulgent reader, your correspondent was 
 not present at the above notable interview, but he deems it due 
 to you all as well as the "Kangaroo court" — a sort of military 
 institution existing here for the regulation of army correspond- 
 ents who garble, under-tell, over-tell, or otherwise maltreat 
 the truth — to state that the scraps of chat reported are verified 
 by four or five different informants vfho were present and 
 heard the v/hole of it. 
 
 I liFive a hundred other things to tell, but for fear of making 
 this letter too long, I'll dry up for the present, and save the 
 rest for a future infliction. Yours, as of yore. 
 
ISLAND KUMBER TEN. 
 
 Shrill moans che chilly winter vrind 
 
 Amid the leafless trees, 
 And rushing wildly, unconfined, 
 
 The river seeks the seas; 
 Black darkness hides the view from sight, 
 
 But ' neath its shades are men, 
 A patriot band pledged to the right, 
 
 At Island Number Ten. 
 
 If thus before their legioned foe 
 
 The backward way they take, 
 Shall fate ordain they may not show 
 
 Their might for Freedom's sake ? 
 Not their's the fault that here they rest, 
 
 These toiling, dauntless men, 
 These stalwart sons of South and West, 
 
 At Island Nunber Ten. 
 
 If lost Columbus wrings the sigh, 
 
 ( All bloodless was it lost, ) 
 More sternly throbs their impulse high 
 
 To meet the Northern host; 
 More bravely still they'll brave their ills, 
 
 And stand as proud as when 
 They held the high Kentucky hills 
 ' Bove Island Number Ten. 
 
 No thought of weary labor lost. 
 
 No plaint of scanty fare. 
 No thought of past or future cost. 
 
 Of what they yet must bear, 
 No sigh for homes they've left behind. 
 
 E'er chafes these fearless men — 
 With heroes here the banks are lined, 
 
 At Island Number Ten. 
 
 Grim guns they drag — ^by night, by daj', 
 
 They toil with spade and axe. 
 As blithe as children at their play. 
 
 In paying manhood's tax; 
 And when released from labor's round. 
 
 These all-enduring men. 
 Short sleep is theirs on the damp, cold ground 
 
 Of Island Number Ten, 
 
 And still they toil through war's alarms, 
 
 Nor heed the trial's length — 
 Do giant work with human arms 
 
 And hearts of Titan strength; 
 Eesolved to stand, and with their blood, 
 
 When come the Vandal men. 
 If need be, redden all the flood 
 
 Kound Island Number Ten 
 
OUR PRIZE NOVELETTE. 
 
 SMIFFLES AND YON SLATHERKINS ON MATEIMONY-— HOW YON TAMED 
 
 HIS VflFE. 
 
 "Weil, you are in business to-day," remarked Yon Slather- 
 kins to Smiffles, as they met on St. Charles street, the other 
 day; "what's all that you're loaded down with?" 
 
 " Oh, a lot of odds and ends for my wife and children." 
 
 " So you do your wife's shopping, do you ?" 
 
 "Yes, sometimes, for such things as these; when it comes to 
 the silks, and bonnets, and all that, she goes out herself." 
 
 " Humph ! Has she been out on a trip of that kind lately ?" 
 
 " Not within the last fiYC years, that I know of. She has, 
 however, been several times among the cheap stores of Poydras 
 and Circus streets; but she declares she is not yet quite fit to 
 appear on Canal street. Like many another good, honest wife 
 in this city, who has had to lie low, and pinch and squeeze for 
 a bare subsistence, during her husband's unhappy four year's 
 absence in the late war, she is now resurrecting, or coming 
 out, by inches. I hope soon to enable her to go shopping on 
 Canal street." 
 
 "Humph! Well meant, no doubt. But the idea of a man 
 doing his wife's shopping, and going along the street loaded 
 down with bundles ! Let me carry a few of those for you. 
 Smiffy, do you and your wife ever quarrel ?" 
 
 "No, never. Why do you ask?" 
 
 " Because, Smiffy, I've a sort of a notion that — that — that 
 you come and go with a string^ — that you're just a little hen- 
 pecked. Isn't it so, Smiffy ?" 
 
 "Not a bit of it. Mrs. S. is a sensible, good-hearted, even- 
 tempered woman, who never abuses me for my faults, and often 
 ])uts herself much out of the way to do me a kindness when 
 I don't deserve it. Knowing this, it would be unpardonable 
 in me not to put myself out of the way for her, occasionally, 
 as you see me doing to-day. She is a good woman, and but 
 for her I would be a worse man. It is a matter of conscience 
 altogether with me; there's no strings or henpecking about it. 
 My wife and I have never quarreled in our lives; not even 
 when we were courting." 
 
 " Humph ! Excuse me for saying it, but I think I now have 
 the key to your apathetic disposition — your chronic dullness 
 — your general stupidity. Your married life is decently sweet 
 but extremely fiat, like molasses and water; nothing in it; no 
 
112 CR-ESCIillSrT-SIIIN^E. 
 
 touch of vinegar or pepper, to give it a flavor; might as well 
 not be married at all." 
 
 "Well, if that is your view of it, I'd like to know how you 
 and your wife get along. Do you ever quarrel?" 
 
 "Ha ! ha ! Do we quarrel? You should hear us sometimes ! Ill 
 bet there ain't nary married couple in New Orleans that attends 
 to that branch of domestic duty more faithfully or beautifully 
 than my sainted Susan and myself. Why, man, that's what I 
 married her for, because I found out she was a good quarreler. 
 None of your tame, insipid, perpetual billing and cooing for 
 me; it's against nature to live on it any length of time. I like 
 a woman of spirit and pluck, who can quarrel as well as love, 
 tell you of your faults, and make you feel them ; who can pre- 
 vent a man from getting rusty or stupid; who by her genius at 
 fault-finding and hectoring can keep a man's blood in circula- 
 tion, his heart healthy and his brain bright. The reconcilia- 
 tions after the quarrels are pleasant enough. I don't want fire 
 and brimstone all the time, nor do I want sugar all the time. 
 The equal admixture of those opposites is what I like, and is 
 what I think alone renders married life endurable." 
 
 " Well, Yon, I see the difference between us, and see no use 
 in discussing the matter. The difference between us as to the 
 sweets of matrimonj^, is just the same as exists between an 
 inveterate tobacco-chewer and one who never chewed tobacco 
 in his life. One, because he never tasted it, declares it dis- 
 gusting; the other, because he has become addicted to it, 
 swears it is one of earth's greatest luxuries. I don't wish to 
 compare your wife to a plug of tobacco, or a plug-ugly, or 
 anything of that sort, but you may go ahead with your tobacco 
 chewing, and I'll stick to my cream candy." 
 
 " Pretty good for you, Smiffy. Your tobacco comparison is 
 a good one and true. You don't know the luxury of conjugal 
 quarrehng, because you never tried it. Ah ! if you could only 
 see how Susan and I have it sometimes ! " 
 
 "Do you quarrel often ?" 
 
 "Well, rather ; every other day is about the average; some- 
 times every day or twice a day; then sometimes again not 
 oftener than once a week. We both like to quarrel well enough, 
 but I have found out that I can live longer without a quarrel 
 than she can. There is a quarrel, I believe, every time I go 
 home drunk, or too late for dinner, or very late at night." 
 
 " Indeed ! then I judge you must have had enough quarrel 
 lately. Who generally begins the fuss ?" 
 
 "Susan does, of course; though she always says I begin it, 
 by my misbehavior. And when she gets fairly under way, you 
 
OTJR IPPtIZE Tn^OVELETTE. 113 
 
 really ought to hear her ! She flings in my teeth all I said in 
 the last quarrel, and the quarrel before that, and so on away 
 back to our marriage, till she gets up a rigmarole that beats 
 the House that Jack Built, all hollow ?" 
 
 " You speak as though you enjoyed it all the time. Don't 
 you neyer get mad yourself?" 
 
 " Yes, but not often. As I am in nine cases out of ten in 
 the wrong, my share in the fight is purety defensive. In all 
 such cases I back down first, and let her have the last word. 
 But occasionally, when the old girl spoils for a fight so badly 
 as to pitch into me when I haven't been doing anything, I do 
 honestly get mad; and then, when she sees that I am mad, in 
 real earnest, she backs down first: and being tickled at the 
 idea of having made me really mad, speedily comes and kisses 
 me, and loves me harder than a mule can kick, till — -the next 
 quarrel." 
 
 '' Well, Yon, I must say that's a sort of life I can't see the 
 beauty of. But go on." 
 
 " 'Mj darling Susan is always charged and ready for action, 
 like a battery in war-time. She is generally in bed when I get 
 home at night, but I always find her awake and charged, and 
 the fuse lit. If I'm half di'unk, she bangs away with shell for * 
 an hour or so, or until she puts us both to sleep ; if two-thirds 
 drunk, she uses round shot and shell both, and if whole drunk, 
 the same with grape and canister added; though these latter 
 furious bombardments, are generally reserved for the next 
 morning, when I am sober enough to stand up to them. 
 
 "One night I went home in a comfortable mood, and just 
 for the fun of it, pretended to be drunker than I really was; 
 staggered about the room, hic-cupped, and did the thing up 
 generally pretty brow"n. Says Sue, from the bed, ' you're a 
 pretty looking object, ain't you, to come home that way, stag- 
 gering drunk. It's really too bad; you ought to be ashamed 
 of yourself. You know that old Mrs. Owl across the street 
 sits up at her v/indow till twelve o'clock every night, to watch 
 when and how her neighbors come home, so she can hoot 
 about it next day. I'll bet she saw you, and to-morrow it will 
 be all over the neighborhood that my husband comes home 
 beastly drunk and ill treats me.' Says I, ' my darlin' don' 
 miner ole hussy; lerrergorer 'ell; I'll kickerer 'ell if sh' sayrer 
 worrer 'bout me;' and I kicked over a chair as I spoke. Sue 
 didn't open her mouth again that night ; but I caught blizzards 
 next morning. The night you and I were both carried home, 
 Smi£fy, I don't remember what happened at my house. All I 
 15 
 
114 
 
 CRESCET^T-SHIN'E. 
 
 know is, that Sue was so tliiindering mad in tlie morning as to 
 be nnable to do the subject justice, and that the amiable col- 
 ored lady who did our chamber work, that day followed my 
 example of the previous night so far as to throw up her situa- 
 tion. 
 
 '• But, Smiffy, nothing makes the old girl so all-fired mad as 
 to discover me shamming in a quarrel — pretending I'm mad 
 when I'm not. We had a rich time of it on this, not long ago. 
 I had been on my good behavior for a week, and we hadn't 
 quarreled in a week; but I saw that my darling was getting 
 tired of it, and becoming rusty for a fight. 
 
 " I went home one afternoon, in capita,l humor with myself, 
 and with Sue, and with all the world. I hunted around for 
 Sae some time, and at last I found her; and I know, Smifi'y, 
 your heart would have melted, as mine did, if you could have 
 seen the poor creature, seated at the end of the back gallery, 
 cross-legged and her foot working up and down, with a pan of 
 hot water at her side, watching for cats. M.j heart yearned 
 toward her; I saw what she wanted, and determined to gratify 
 her. 
 
 "I walked by her carelessly, whistling, and as I passed, 
 gave the pan an accidental kick, splashing a little of the water 
 on her dress; and went on down the steps into the yard. She 
 pitched into me like a fury : 
 
 "Drunk as usual, I see; you pitiful fellow, can't 3^ou pass a 
 person without running over 'em?' 
 
 "I turned with a furious countenance. 
 
 "'Mrs. Von Slatherkins,' I said, 'if jo^a say I'm drunk, you 
 lie — under a mistake. I have a right to walk along that gal- 
 lery whenever I please, and if you and your d — d pans are 
 stuck in the way, it's none of my lookout. I think, anyhow, 
 you'd better be in the house attending to your work, than sit- 
 ting there peeping into your neighbors back yards for no 
 good.' 
 
 " This made her turn pale. 
 
 " ' You base falsifier,' she said, ' you well know I'm not watch- 
 ing the neighbors; I'm watching for a chance to scald the cat 
 that stole the steak ou^ of the kitchen; and if you talk to w.e 
 in that way, I'll heave this hot water on you.' 
 
 "'And if yoa do, my darliug,' said I, picking up a lump of 
 coal, ' I'll let you have this piece of coal, as sure as Grod made 
 me." 
 
 She jumped up, dashed the water at me, and ran; I dodged 
 the water, aiii let £7 t'le coal, in sach a way as to make con- 
 siderable noise and do no damage; and as she disappeared 
 
OUR I»ilIZE "NO^^ELETTE. 115 
 
 inside and banged the door too behind her, I banged the door 
 also with another himp of coaL I thought it best to let her 
 enjoy the notion of having had a fight in real earnest, and so 
 left the house without trying to see her. 
 
 " That night when I returned, Sue looked rather disposed to 
 make up ; but I was too full of fun, and spoilt it all by letting 
 her know how I had been humbugging her, and by attempting 
 at the same time to hug and kiss her. She fired up in an 
 instant; flung me off viciously; and snapped out, 'keep away 
 from me, you stinking brute.' She pouted all that night and 
 next day. I tried a second time to make it up wdth her, but 
 she was mad as ever, and again called me^a[^stinking brute. I 
 began to get tired of it. It was too much of a good thing; 
 more than I had bargained for. Finally, I got my dander up 
 a little, in earnest, and determined to give my darling a 
 taming." 
 
 "You did! Your story grows interesting. Did you really 
 undertake the thing?" 
 
 " I did, and what is more, I succeeded. Smiffy, in entering 
 the married state, it is the duty of every man, for his future 
 security against matrimonial storms, to quietly study his wife's 
 weak points; the strong points will readily manifest them- 
 selves, but the weak ones must be watched for and studied. I 
 don't care how much women may differ, Smiffy, but no woman 
 was ever created that didn't have some weak point or another. 
 Now, some years ago, I discovered, by accident, that the most 
 sensitive part of my wife's organization was her nose; and soon 
 afterwards, I discovered what offended that nose most of all 
 things on earth. I determined to take her up on her epithet 
 of 'stinking brute,' and cure her of her fondness for that 
 expression. 
 
 " That evening when I went home, I heard Sue laughing and 
 chatting with some female neighbors in the parlor. I blowsed 
 my hair and trotted in on all fours, saying, 'Bow-wow-wow ! 
 good evening, ladies, bow-wow! How do you do, ladies, bow- 
 wow-wow ?" Sue jumped up as if shot, and all her friends 
 looked confused. At last one of the visitors laughed and 
 said, ' Mr. Yon, what are you really trying to do ?' ' My sugar- 
 lump and I,' I answered, ' have had a tiff, and she called 
 me a brute ; and so I'm playing brute that her epihtet may 
 not be a mistaken one.' After bow-wowing and kicking up 
 my heels a little more, I trotted out on all fours, as I had 
 entered. I soon afterward found that Sue was madder than 
 ever. 
 
 "She boimced out of bed early enough next morning, I tell 
 
116 
 
 CRESCEjSrT-SHrN-E. 
 
 you. Unknown to her, I rose early also, and slipped round to 
 the market, where I bought some Dutch cheese — the real pure 
 stuff, you know, that smells a mile and draws wolves. I brought 
 it home, and slipped a httle piece of it under her breakfast 
 plate. You should have seen that woman when she raised her 
 plate. She gave me one look — such a look — and I could see 
 her getting sick. 'Darlin/ I said, 'as you called me a stinking 
 brute, I intend to be that same, until you withdraw that 
 epithet.' 
 
 " She couldn't eat her breakfast. What she afterwards did, 
 w^hen she went to her dressing room and found the same odor- 
 iferous substance in her armoir and mixed up with her toilet 
 articles, I can only imagine. Knowing she would throw away 
 all she could find of it, and that her nose would lead her to 
 the last crumb, I went home that evening with a fresh supply 
 in my pocket. As soon as I entered she smelled it. She rose 
 and came to me, half laughing and half crying, and said, ' Oh, 
 Yon, do for pity's sake throw that stuff away — I ain't mad 
 now — I'm sorry for the rough words — but please do throw that 
 stuff away!' 
 
 " Of course I threw it away instanter. We made up sweetly, 
 and didn't quarrel for another week. Tnat's the way to do it, 
 Smiffy; there's nothing like knowing your wife's tender point, 
 and reserving this knowledge for such a contingency as over- 
 took me at last." 
 
 " Y/ise enough for those who must quarrel, but hap^nly not 
 necessar}' in my case. I'll take those parcels now, Yon. Good 
 day." 
 
\ 
 
 A VALENTINE FOR THE TIMES. 
 
 Oh, ladies fair and maidens sweet, 
 
 On downy couciies sleeping, 
 Would ye not win a valentine 
 
 For ever worth the keeping ? 
 Then waft yourselves on fancy's wing 
 
 Thro' dreamland's rosy bowers, 
 And rest ye here, where all is drear, 
 
 'Mid "Winter's frozen showers. 
 
 Behold yon sentry, pacing slovv, 
 
 His arm his musket grasping 
 His heavy coat all cloaked in snow, 
 
 His hands for warmth a-clasping; 
 Tho' his hands be cold, his heart is warm, 
 
 And he complaineth never; 
 For you and the right he came to fight, 
 And still would fight forever ! 
 
 For home, for freedom, mother, wife, 
 
 For all the soul holds dear, 
 He braves the death of the battle-field 
 
 And braves the winter drear. 
 Not he to scribble, at lazy home. 
 
 His loves on scented papers, 
 Or in any way to own the sway 
 
 Of Cupid's sillier capers. 
 
 His pen is his gleaming bayonet; 
 
 His only place for v/riting; 
 His wealth of love is on traitor breasts 
 
 '\r\nailst for his country fighting. 
 He digs, and drudges, watches, fasts — 
 
 Ko task could be completer; 
 Thro' the war's turmoil he doth but toil 
 
 That you may sleep the sweeter. 
 
 Then ladies fair and maidens sweet. 
 
 Be not of this soldier wary. 
 Though his shoulders be v/hite mth the falling 
 
 And his face all rough and hairy; 
 But on that face so cold and rough, 
 
 (As still your dreams confine, ) 
 Breathe kisses soft, breathe kisses sweet. 
 
 For he is your Valentine ! 
 
CHARLEY DREUX AND BOB ALEXANDER. 
 
 A peculiarly melancholy interest attaches to the death of 
 Lient. Kobert J. Alexander, of the Cannon Guards, in the 11th 
 regiment. Intimate as I was with him before the war and since, 
 I can speak of him as one who knew him weU. Capt. Austin's 
 dispatch to his father, announcing the loss of his "First Lieu- 
 tenant, the young and gallant Robert Alexander,'' fell like a 
 cannon shot upon the hosts of his friends in this city, and upon 
 none more than myself, who had so lately left him, with 
 errands to his relatives here. The peculiar interest which 
 characterizes this death is the fatality of the pure and noble 
 friendship whibh existed between the deceased and his prede- 
 cessor on the red road to glory, Charles D. Dreux. Before the 
 war, Charley Dreux and Bob Alexander were two inseparables ; 
 always together when possible, and more hke twin-brothers 
 than friends. After the war set in, they were the same: 
 always together, and among the very first in the war. Every- 
 body remembers when the Orleans Cadets left — the very first 
 company to leave Louisiana for the v^ar — and under what 
 demonstrations of applause and public feeling they left. — 
 Charley Dreux's subsequent career, up to the time of his death 
 in Virginia, was that of Bob Alexander; Charley was Bob's 
 commander, but that was nothing; they were the same old 
 friends, whether off or on duty. 
 
 Everybody remembers how the town received the news of 
 Charley's death, and what honors were paid to his remains. 
 Bob, who was at his side when he so suddenly and sadly fell, 
 accompanied the body to this city, sticking to it to the ver}^ 
 last; and right at this desk where I now write, Bob sat and 
 related the particulars of Charley's death, of his visit to the 
 widow, and so on, with an emotion which might have been 
 childish under other circumstances. The truth was, he loved 
 him from his soul. 
 
 Having finished his sad business here, Bob — I ought novv- to 
 say Alexander perhaps, or something more stately or resj)ect- 
 ful than Bob, but all who knew him will and must with me 
 hold on to the old nick-name — Bob, I say, accepted the First 
 Lieutenancy of the Cannon Guards, and went on to Kentucky. 
 From this time forth I was much in his company, and many a 
 time, when we were in a whole party together, and the social 
 glass was passing. Bob never failed, in his owtl brief but feel- 
 ing manner, to honor the memory of Charley Dreux. [I hope 
 none will accuse me of egotism in so much setting myself for- 
 
CH^IiLEY DiiEXJX AJSflD BOB ^LEX^NDER. 119 
 
 ward in this narration; my only wish is to properly set forth a 
 trait in Bob's character which all his other friends knew well, 
 and which everybody now has the right to know.] I need not 
 say much more. I left him, but a few days before the battle, 
 in the flush of his health and young ambition, loved as a man 
 by all his immediate friends, and respected and esteemed as 
 an officer by his brother officers of the regiment. 
 
 On Friday the echoes of the bloody battle and brilliant vic- 
 tory reached and thrilled New Orleans; but first among the 
 reported dead was Bob Alexander. On Saturday the town 
 shook hands and drank to the glorious news and to the invinci- 
 bility of our great cause. It was a pretty day; all things looked 
 gay, smiHng and pleasant; but the pleasantest thing to me 
 was the sound of the funeral trappings on the bell of Louisiana 
 Hose Company: showing that in the death of the gallant sol- 
 dier on the field of battle, the former brave and daring fore- 
 man was the more freshly remembered, and that Bob Alexan- 
 der was not forgotten. I have heard many a one say, since 
 this news, "Poor Bob!" but I don't say it. He was a young 
 man of pur^^ose and of courage, and death-defying spirit; of 
 that kind of blood, without which the tree of liberty would 
 never flourish, and patriotism cease to be a name. If his re- 
 leased spirit could survey the battle-field and recognize his 
 owTi late body of earth, it would only say, "I do not regret it 
 — ^I was only doing my duty." 
 
 As Charley Dreux was the first Louisianian to sacrifice his 
 life to the cause of Southern independence, so was his nearest 
 friend and comrade. Bob Alexander, the first fireman of New 
 Orleans to fall on the battle-field. They fell in the same cause, 
 but far apart. The body of the latest deceased will soon be 
 here. "When it arrives let it be properly honored. 
 
 Before the Orleans Cadets left for Pensacola, at the opening 
 of the war, a piece of music, dedicated to the company, was 
 published, having for its frontispiece a well-executed portrait 
 of three Cadets, side b}^ side, in full uniform. The three were 
 Charley Dreux, Bob Alexander, and Eaton, who composed the 
 dedicated music. The two tallest of the figures represent the 
 two deceased of whom I have been speaking. 
 
ONE OF THE B'HOYS. 
 
 Some three or four weeks ago, a well-known cotton firm in 
 this city sent, or attempted to send, a $1000 bill on the Citi- 
 zens' Bank in a letter to a gentleman in Jackson, Mississippi, 
 on account of cotton received and sold. The letter was 
 entrusted to a bright lad, apparently no more than fourteen or 
 fifteen years old, but actually seventeen, who enjoyed the 
 unlimited confidence of the house, and had long been their 
 street clerk or errand-boy — the son of respectable parents, 
 well-to-do in this city. The boy was so punctual, active and 
 honest in all his duties, that he was the last person suspected, 
 upon the firm receiving a letter from the gentleman at Jackson, 
 to the effect that he had not received the letter containing the 
 $1000 biU. 
 
 The boy was interrogated. He was apparently much hurt, 
 the questions shomng some doubt of his integrity, and throw- 
 ing, apparently, some aspersion upon the respectable family of 
 which he was the yoimger son and branch of promise. He 
 declared with such protestoyLions of honor, and with such 
 evidences of wounded feeling, that he had deposited the letter 
 in the post-oifice, that his employers honestly beheved him, 
 and began to entertain grave doubts as to the honesty of the 
 clerks in the post-office. It happened, however, that the part- 
 ner who sent the letter had been careiTil enough to preseiVe a 
 memorandum of the number, letter and date of the $1000 
 bill. Not knowing what else to do, he puts this memorandum 
 and a statement of the facts into the hands of Lieutenant 
 Boylan, of the First District Police, and Bojdan, v\"ith his 
 special aid. Miller, set about investigating the mystery. 
 
 Going to the Citizens' Bank, with their memorandum, they 
 found the identical $1000 bill there. It had been received in 
 exchange from another bank. The bank was visited. The 
 bill had been received from yet another bank, and this bank 
 was visited. Here the bill had been changed, but for whom, 
 it could not be remembered. The bill had passed through 
 three banks before getting home to the Citizens' Bank. 
 
 Boylan and Miller then posted themselves as to the habits 
 and resorts of the confidential errand boy. They found a store 
 where he had bought a box of cigars, and had given in pay- 
 ment a $100 bill, for which he received the proper change. 
 They found a jewelry store where the same boy had bought a 
 watch, and another store where he had bought a revolver. 
 They found a cyprian upon whom the young rascal had been 
 
ONE OF THK B'KOYS. 121 
 
 lavisliing money. 'WTliey fonndjnumerous men who liad noted 
 the boy for his dashing manners and free expenditure of 
 money, and especially for his style in going to the lake in two- 
 horse buggies, sometimes with a companion, sometimes with- 
 out, never associating with youths of his own age, but ming- 
 ling with men as far as possible, and treating to drinks all the 
 time. 
 
 The officers then took a round among the livery stables, and 
 found that Elliott's stable, on Baronne street, had been hon- 
 ored with the boy's patronage. Elliott stated that the boy had 
 been hiring J^his double and|singiej teams, and had paid him 
 $120 buggy hire inside of the past month; in fact, the boy 
 was out that very afternoon, at the lake, with a single team, 
 price $5. The officers took a seat and w^aited. This was on 
 Tuesday evening. 
 
 At eight o'clock, the fast youth drove his buggy into the 
 stable, sprung out with a lordly air, and greeted Mr. Elliott 
 thus: "Look here, old Elliott, that's the d — dest meanest 
 horse ever I got out of your stable, and if ever you give me 
 such another horse, I'll quit. Mother was afraid for me to 
 go with him, but I was bound to try him." Then, in a laugh- 
 ing way, he added, " 'Spose I'd had my w^oman out with me 
 this evening, and the d — d horse had got to cutting up, what 
 would have become of us?" 
 
 The officers here stepped up and took the young gentleman 
 into custody. He was much astonished and quite indignant; 
 wanted to know vfhat he had been doing, etc. After they got 
 him away from the stable, he still demanding to know why he 
 was arrested, Boylan asked, " Where did you get that hundred 
 dollar bill you got changed at the cigar-store the other day?" 
 At this the fast youth wilted. He could not invent anything 
 to get him out of this scrape. When within a square of the 
 lockup, Boylan stopped, and told him it w^ould be better for 
 him and for his family and friends to confess, and tell the 
 whole truth. With the greatest grief and humiliation he did 
 so. He admitted having kept the letter with the $1000 bill, 
 instead of putting it in the post-office, and told where the 
 money not yet spent might be found. After locking him up, 
 the officers visited his parents' residence, and explaining their 
 errand as pohtely as they could, entered his bed-room, and 
 found $570 in bank bills in an envelope, under the mattress of 
 the boy's bed — behaving truly told them that they would there 
 find the money. 
 
 The grief and humiliation of the parents was beyond descrip- 
 
 16 
 
122 
 
 CRESCKNT-SHinSrE. 
 
 tion; that of the mother especially. Though the boy is now 
 locked up, his late employers do not wish to prosecute^him, on 
 account of his parents, who are far more afflicted than they, 
 and the same feeling for the parents prevents us from giving 
 the boy's name. The singular feature of the boy's rascality is, 
 that he had no partner or confidant in his proceedings save 
 those with whom he frolicked, a thing quite unusual in boys 
 when they start out on such a course. People -^iV/ondered to 
 see his manly dash and his flush of specie, but, knowing his 
 family, and the house in which he was employed, said nothing. 
 
 SENSIBLE OLD DARKEY. 
 
 An old planter, an octogenarian, living not a great way from 
 Magnolia, Mississippi, recently related, in our hearing, an 
 interview he had with his old slave Tom, just after the slaves 
 became aware of their freedom. Tom was about seventy years 
 old, but stout and hearty, and had lived with his master nearly 
 all his life. One day, old Tom appeared before his master, hat 
 in hand, with an uncommonly long face. " Massa," said he, 
 "I 'spose I'se free now, isn't I?" "Yes, Tom, you're free; 
 you're at perfect liberty to quit when you like and go where 
 you please." " Yes, massa, but — but," clawing his wool in his 
 perplexity, "but what mus' I do?" "Anything you please, 
 Tom; what do you want to do?" After working at his old 
 gray wool a little while longer, Tom unburdened himself; "Dis 
 is jus' it, massa, I wants to stay wid you. We've been togedder 
 all our lives, massa, and me and you's built up dis place, ive 
 has; and I sorta feels like I had a sha' in it, and I wants to 
 stay and lib on it. Dat's jus' it, massa; you go long an' give 
 de orders, and I'll tend to de work jus' de same as eber, and 
 dat's all I vfants." Of course, Tom was not sent away; nor 
 was the intervention of the Freedmen's Bureau necessary to 
 insure fair play between the old planter and his faithful and 
 affectionate old slave. 
 
OUT OF SORTS." 
 
 This is an universally used expression, signifying the feeling 
 which people experience when they have a morning headache 
 after a jolly night, or the sour-belch, or the blues, or impe- 
 cuniosity, or any other infernal thing that drives sunshine out 
 of the soul; but there are very fevv^ who know that the phrase 
 " out of sorts" was originally and is now the technical 
 denominator of a contingency which frequently occurs in 
 all printing offices. We will endeavor to explain the typo- 
 graphical meaning of " out of sorts." 
 
 When a " font," or full supply of type, comes from the 
 foundry, (as recently, in the case of this Crescent,) it is 
 evenly and equally divided out among the printers. Each 
 printer has in each "box" of his "case," his mathematical 
 share of each letter, figure, point, etc. ; but the adjustment of 
 the letters in their numerical proportion to each other, as 
 required by our language, is so well studied at the foundry, 
 that their division is a comparatively easy matter in the printing 
 ofhce. i^'or instance, there are twenty type-stickers ready to 
 go to work; the whole quantity of each letter is therefore 
 divided into twenty equal parts. 
 
 But this equal allotment of the type neve?' happens after the 
 first time. No human calculation ever has been or ever will be 
 able to provide for the " runs" or extra demands that arise for 
 certain letters, in the course of the alphabet's travel through 
 the columns of a daily newspaper, or other printed work. One 
 printer finds a certain letter overrunning its box, whilst the 
 same letter is short in his neighbor's box. He therefore di- 
 vides; his surplus of that letter makes up his neighbor's defi- 
 ciency. This goes on all the time in printing offices, and 
 nothing is thought of it. 
 
 But it frequently happens that one compositor's surplus of a 
 certain letter is not wanted by any of his fellow-workers. This 
 surplus he therefore deposits in its proper "box" in an extra 
 " case," kept in some central part of the office, and intended 
 for the use of all. In the course of a day or a week, this 
 " case" has received deposits or honored drafts from every 
 printer in the office. And this case, from time immemorial, 
 has been called the "'sort-case," and whatever type may be in 
 it, "sorts." 
 
 A surplus of a certain letter, how^ever, never bothers any 
 printer. It is the scarcity of any certain letter that upsets him. 
 The sort case jeers him with its emptiness; his neighbors 
 
124 
 
 I CRESCEnsrT-SHIjN-E- 
 
 laugh at his pathetic appeals for a few n's, or r's, or commas, 
 or hyphens. It is then that the printer loses his good humor, 
 and becomes fit for almost any mean thing. He is " out of 
 sorts." If he is not watched closely, he will do what in grosser 
 trades would be called stealing. But the sensible and intelli- 
 gent sons of Faust have a politer word for it, and call it 
 " sharking." 
 
 The writer hereof, who spent numerous years among the 
 types and typos, could tell many funny stories about " shark- 
 ing" in printing-ojB&ces. The manner in which the " shark" 
 operates is this : say his hyphen-box is empty, and all the other 
 hyphen-boxes in the offices so- nearly empty, that his ajipeals 
 for assistance are answered by the chorus of " nary hyphen." 
 He then takes the first opportunity of being in the room when 
 all the other printers are out; goes around to all the hj^ohen- 
 boxes, and takes one, two, or three hyphens out of each box; 
 and thus furnishes himself with a proper supply, without any 
 of the absentees afterward becoming sensible of their loss. 
 This is " sharking." 
 
 The writer has seen the scarcity of a certain letter so great 
 in a printing-office, that all the printers had to watch each other, 
 equally anxious to "shark," and to avoid being "sharked;" 
 the consequence of which was, that when the work was finished 
 at night, each printer would scrape his last miserable remnant 
 of the scarce letter out of its box, wrap it up in a piece of 
 paper, and carry it home in his vest pocket; and should there 
 be another printer sleeping in the same room, w^ould put the 
 vest under his pilloAV or the mattress. In a case of this kind, 
 the whole office is " out of sorts." 
 
 All these remarks are drawn from us b}^ a dry incident of 
 the other day. One of the printers now at work over our 
 head, as we write these lines — he being in the fourth story of 
 the Crescent, and we in the second story^ — ^met us on the street. 
 In the course of friendty conversation, he gravely asked us if 
 it wasn't barely possible, in writing out our sketches and 
 reports, to drop all or most Vv^ords with p in them, and use 
 other words instead; said letter p being already seriously 
 scarce in the Crescent office. We allowed it teas barely possi- 
 ble ; and this was the very next item we VvTote : 
 
 Harvey Harding was pleased to petition us for a puff to this purport, 
 that he has a plentiful supply of pups, at the service of the polite and ap- 
 preciative poj)ulation of this pleasant and popular place. We politely 
 permitted Harvey to put it awaj!" beneath his pericranium, that it promised 
 us some perplexity to puff his supply of pups, without a sample of said 
 pups, positively presented to us, for the purpose of placing the matter of 
 the pups properly before the people. He promised to present us with the 
 
OXJT OF SOIiTS. 125 
 
 prettiest out of his whole supply of pups; and prevailed upon us to pub- 
 lish what we privately perceived was a piece of pomposity on his part — 
 to-wit, that he expects to purchase pretty and peculiar specimens of all 
 species of animals and other kno\\Ti serpents, for the preposterous pica- 
 yune show he is now preparing, and that he proposes to import a hippo- 
 potamus next April. 
 
 Now, gentle reader, you don't "see the joke" of tlie above 
 as the printer perceives it, when his p box is empty. He 
 curses the wiiter, of course; and if he is out of p's, and the 
 piece must appear in print, he will use d's turned upside down, 
 and the reader will never know the difference. The letters b 
 and q stand in the same convenient relation to each other. In 
 incomplete fonts of type the printer has frequently to exer- 
 cise his ingenuity in manufacturing signs and characters not 
 to be found in his case. Thus, for instance, the c without the 
 cedilla, in the words Curocoa and facade, would tempt unin- 
 formed people very naturally to pronounce those w^ords Cura- 
 koa and fakade. For many years the printers, when there 
 were no cedilla c's in the font of type used, have overcome the 
 difficulty by using the figure 5 reversed, thus : Curagoa, fa- 
 cade. 
 
 "WTien hyphens give out, the invariable substitute is the 
 small letter s with the top and bottom whittled off mth a pen- 
 knife; the central x^art making a fair imitation. In mention of 
 latitude and longitude, where degree and minute marks are 
 required, and the printer's case does not furnish them, he does 
 it himself in this way: He takes a figiire 8 and cuts away the 
 lower half; the remainder makes a very good degree mark, at 
 its proper altitude in the printed line. For minute and second 
 marks, he takes italic exclamation points, {! !) cuts away the 
 dots at the bottom, and no better mark is wanted; and so on, 
 ad infinitum. From all this, our readers may easily judge 
 what it is among printers to be "out of sorts." 
 
 We will conclude this prosy and we fear (to many people) 
 "Greek" disquisition on "sorts," by telling a good thing that 
 is said to have actually happened in this city some years ago. 
 A Western country printer, who knew nothing whatever of 
 the French or their language, came to toTvn and got a job in 
 the office of our ancient and respected cotemporary, the Bee; 
 which paper, as everybody knows, has alwaj^s had a French 
 side and an English side. Our printer was put to " distribut- 
 ing" — that is, throwing the types back mto their respective 
 boxes, after their final passage through the press — in a case on 
 the English side. In the 'course of his work, he, by mistake, 
 picked up a "handfuU" of French matter. He made slow 
 work " distributing" this, but persevered. Ever}^ moment his 
 
126 CHESCEI^T-SIIIIS'E. 
 
 neighbors heard his teeth come together with a clamp, and at 
 last they watched him, and saw that he bit every sixth or 
 seventh letter before throwing it into the case. " What are you 
 biting at there ?" asked one of the beholders. " I'm biting the 
 top-knots off these d — d e's/" he said, "and I don't understand 
 this gibberish, no how; if it wasn't for the regular spacing, I 
 should call it pi !" He himself was " out of sorts" in the 
 general sense, and had he not been stopped " early in the 
 action," some of the printers on the French side would have 
 become " out of sorts" in the typographical sense. 
 
 THE OLD MAS IS GOING, 
 
 For some time past old Dan Busby, the veteran policeman 
 and guardian of Lafayette square, has been sinking in the 
 manner of all men whose race is run. He has been getting 
 thinner and feebler, week after week; and last week he had to 
 bid good-bye to the green and shady park he had loved so 
 well, with its happy, romping children, whom he had petted 
 and protected so long, and so often treated to candy and 
 organ grinders, and had to take to his bed, from which he 
 will probably never rise again. 
 
 The First District police, with praiseworthy benevolence, are 
 raising a subscription among themselves, to render the old 
 man's last days easy and comfortable; and thus far, the sub- 
 scription is a very handsome one, some contributing $10, 
 others $5, and none less than $2, that is, with one exception. 
 
 This exception is a policeman, who lends money on interest, 
 and has a large pile in bank. Being applied to, he hesitated 
 awhile, and fijially contributed two bits. This generosity 
 seems to have pleased the other pohce considerably. Yester- 
 day there was a charcoal caricature of the broker on the wall 
 at the lockup, representing him feeling for his quarter and 
 saying, "Well, I'll give a quarter; I don't like to be close"; 
 and we heard some of the officers were collecting a pile of 
 twenty-five copper cents, to tie up in a package with a silk 
 ribbon and present to him as the change due for his munifi- 
 cent donation. 
 
THE ODD MAN IS GONE. 
 
 In yesterday's Crescent we mentioned tliat Daniel Busby, 
 the veteran policeman, and late guardian of Lafayette square, 
 was going, being abed of a debility from which he was not 
 expected to recover. Ere that notice reached our readers' 
 eyes, the old man had gone. He died at three o'clock yester- 
 day morning — the grim tyrant claiming him much sooner than 
 was expected. 
 
 The energy, faithfulness and punctuality of Busby, which 
 had kept him on the police, through all administrations, for a 
 period of twenty years, won for him all proper respect and 
 good feeling in his later days. 
 
 His funeral, last evening, w^as a very large one. Nearly the 
 whole of the First District police turned out, in a body; Brah- 
 min Lodge No. 1, L O. S. M., of which he had been a member, 
 also turned out in handsome number, wearing their regalia; 
 and a large crowd of citizens beside added themselves to the 
 funeral cortege, and followed the remains to their last rest, in 
 Cypress Grove Cemetery. 
 
 The children in Lafayette square romped and rolled in the 
 grass, and laughed and screamed as merrily as ever, not know- 
 ing that good old Grandpa Busby, who had hired the hand 
 organs for them so often, was just then on his way out the 
 sheU road, to the solemn airs of a brass band which his 
 friends had engaged, that they might escort him with the more 
 honor to that dark gate, beyond which he was to receive his 
 first summons to roll-call in the invisible world. 
 
 AVlien the old man, early last week, had to take to his bed, 
 he said he knew it was good-bye to the world, and that he 
 only regretted one thing — and that was, that he could not be 
 permitted to stay out a few days longer, in order to see the 
 inauguration of the Clay Statue. A man never gets so old or 
 feeble but that the bright and exciting scenes of out-door life 
 have still left some charm to him; but Time is stern and un- 
 charitable, and Death, when he comes near, is cruel and grants 
 no reprieve. 
 
 Peace to the ashes of the good old man, and the resolute 
 and faithful officer, Daniel Busby. 
 
SUMMER NIGHT AMUSEMENTS. 
 
 Anything in the way of a poster for a public meeting, these 
 dull times, is sure to draw a crowd, whether the people sym- 
 pathize with the proposed action or not. 
 
 Day before yesterday, some person stuck up bills about 
 town, announcing that a jDubhc meeting would be held at La- 
 fayette square on Thursday evening — to consider the case of 
 Martin, the free negro musician, whose alleged, seduction and 
 ruin of sundry respectable white girls had been the town talk 
 for some days. The poster was couched in inflammatory terms, 
 and was well calculated to induce people to answer the call, 
 through curiosity to see what would be done. 
 
 So, last evening, a crowd of two thousand or more — inclu- 
 ding all classes of people, from the most respectable citizens 
 down to loafers and boys — trampled the grass of Lafayette 
 square, curious to see if there were any persons who would 
 actually undertake to organize a riot for the benefit of Mr. 
 Martin, a proceeding which would have involved the storming 
 and capture of the Parish Prison, where Martin is incarce- 
 rated. The crowd stood around, and smoked, and talked, and 
 waited. 
 
 The posters had promised si)eeclies; but no si)eakers ap- 
 peared. Several prominent persons, known to be in the 
 crowd, were called upon. They responded — by mizzling. So 
 the crowd kept on waiting, and talking, and smoking. The 
 square was not illuminated; but the pale moon looked dovni 
 at the crowd with one eye, comically, (being only at the half- 
 full) as if to say, "Now, is'nt that one of the crowds to peep 
 at!" 
 
 Soon the wags in the crowd commenced getting off jokes. 
 "Hiu-rah for Douglas!" shouted one man. A few feint hur- 
 rahs were given. "Three groans for Douglas!" shouted an- 
 other man; and the groans were given, right heartity. The 
 election spirit being aroused, the other Presidential candidates, 
 Breckinridge, Bell, and even Abe Lincoln, were hurrahed for 
 and groaned at. In a short time the crowd got tired of this, 
 and other jokes were resorted to. 
 
 One man shouted out frantically, "Lock the gates! lock the 
 gates ! Pve lost five cents ! " Several of the boys being outside 
 the square, rushed in at the gate exclaiming, "Make way, gen- 
 tlemen; here he is, they're bringing him over from the Lock- 
 up ! " and the crowd opened right and left, as quickly as if a 
 military procession v^ere coming m. " Beware of pickpockets !" 
 
SU:MMER IN-IGJ-HO? -A^I^USEMiEI^TS. 129 
 
 sung out one man. After a while, a man announced that « he " 
 had consented to make a speech, and would deliver it from 
 the steps of the City Hall. This caused a great many to leave 
 tlie square and crowd St. Charles street, as if goi4 to the 
 Parish Prison; his partners in the joke rushed after him: and 
 the result was that a mob of upwards of a thousand people 
 followed them off How far they went we did not take the 
 trouble to ascertain. 
 
 We are seriously of opinion, however, (such is the public 
 feelmg against Martm) that if any person or persons had had 
 the daring to organize an expedition against the Parish Prison 
 there would have been a large crowd wilHng to follow and aid 
 
 MARRIED AND UNMARRIED, 
 
 The foUowing odd piece of business is related to us as bavins' 
 occurred recently in a pleasant Httle viUage not a thousand 
 miles from this city: 
 
 A young couple went the usual way of young couples and 
 got manned The knot was tied by a respected father of the 
 Catholic Church, and immediately after the ceremony, the 
 bridal party adjourned to the "infair," or wedding supper. 
 The priest s Jiousekeeper, a querulous, fault-finding old woman, 
 
 ^i'^rr"^^^ V^^'^ '^^r ^^ ^^erything,atSncewentto 
 him with a complaint about the wedding. He tried to dismiss 
 her without a hearing, but she was stubborn, and would be 
 heard. Her trouble was, that the couple just wedded were 
 first cousins. "^ 
 
 This information startled the priest. He did not dehberate 
 long. He went over to the wedding supper, called the bride- 
 groom oi^, and asked him if his bride was his first cousin. He 
 rephed affirmatively. The bride was next called out and asked 
 the same question, and she gave a similar answer. " Whv did 
 neither of jou ever mention this to me r asked his Reverence. 
 Because, answered the bridegroom, "we never knew it made 
 any difference." ^'But it does make all the difference in the 
 world, my friends! Your marriage was in violation of the 
 rules of the Church, and is therefore utterly null and void I 
 that pronounced you man and wife a little while ago now as 
 
130 CR-ESCENT-SHITSTE. 
 
 solemnly pronounce you not man and wife ! You are not mttr- 
 riedatall!" 
 
 Great was the distress and confusion of tlie late happy pair. 
 At length the bridegroom stammered out, " What — ^whatr— are 
 we to do ?" *' Do ! why, you haven't got anything to do /" Inde- 
 scribable would have been the grief of the now unwedded pair, 
 had his Keverence not subsequently explained to them that 
 under a "dispensation" from the Archbishop, the wedding 
 could legitimately take place, but not otherwise. The lovers 
 were duly taken charge of by their maids and grooms, and con- 
 signed to an unexpected and decidedly unwelcome continuance 
 of their single-blessedness. But for the hope of a dispensa- 
 tion, the affair might have ended in a French tragedy. 
 
 It is stated that, as the disappointed bridegroom was on his 
 way back to his lonely home, he was heard to sigh, " Wonder- 
 ful are the dispensations of Providence — but blessed are the 
 dispensations of the Archbishop." 
 
 BOTH SCAKED. 
 
 An odd incident occurred in the Fourth District, night before 
 last. A well-known elderly gentleman was startled from his 
 slumbers by an unearthly thumping about the house. He 
 raised up in bed, to study whether the noise was made by a 
 robber or by his Satanic Majesty. As he listened, the thump- 
 ing came into his own room, the door of which was open. As 
 he sat paralyzed, one thump was followed by a jingle of broken 
 crockery, and in that instant, something which he thought at 
 the moment might have been the devil himself, rushed over 
 the bed, and went smash through the window behind the bed ! 
 
 Finding himself unhurt, and not smelling anything like 
 brimstone, the old man got up and struck a light. On the 
 floor he found the fragments of a well-known and highly 
 cherished cream-jug, the track of whose thumpings and the 
 spot of its crash were marked with milk. A villainous Thomas 
 Cat, in taking his midnight snack, had got his head stuck fast 
 in the jug, and he probably was worse scared than the old 
 man. The feehngs of both the cat and the old gentleman may 
 be better imagined than described. 
 
PICTURES WANTED. 
 
 AVe design getting up a picture gallery, which, though not 
 so extensive or variegated as the galleries of our friends Piffet, 
 or Blessing, or SheldoUj or McPherson, shall yet be infinitely 
 Inore brilliant and attractive; and in pursuance of this design, 
 we offer a handsome premium upon regular prices for photo- 
 graphs of the following persons : 
 
 The man who never in all his life ate a peanut in a theatre. 
 
 The man or boy who can eat an orange along the street 
 without throwing the peel on the sidewalk. 
 
 The tobacco-chewer who never spits on the sidewalk, but 
 always in the gutter to save the ladies' dresses. 
 
 The man who politely gives up his seat in a street-cat to a 
 homely or middle-aged lady -Without secretly saying damn. 
 
 The cab driver who never raises his fare when rain comes 
 and catches people in the theatres. 
 
 The man who, after a big drunk, doesn't secretly feel that 
 there is something after all in this thing of temperance. 
 
 The store clerk who never leaves his packing boxes blocking 
 up the sidewalk, with the bent nails standing out to tear the 
 dresses of the ladies as they squeeze hj. 
 
 The beautifully and splendidly-dressed young gentlemen 
 who never stood at Hyde & Goodrich's or Moody's cornei", to 
 show off to the ladies. 
 
 The coffeehouse keeper who never baptizes his liquors. 
 
 The Gascon butcher who tearfully begs you to take his 
 meat at your own price. 
 
 The Dago fruit-seller who does likewise. 
 
 The wood-sawyer who is neither independent nor impudent. 
 
 The street-car driver who never loses his temper, and never 
 stops for the ninety-fifth passenger. 
 
 The man who does not fancy his own trouble greater than 
 everybody else's. 
 
 The man who does not considei* his own happiness less than 
 anybody else's. 
 
 The man who never stops on a gutter crossing to speak 
 with a friend. 
 
 The driver of a dray or a bread or milk wagon, who doesn't 
 think it your own fait if you get run over and killed. 
 
 The man who never goes into George Ellis' bookstore with- 
 out buying something. 
 
132 CHESCEIN-X-SIIII^E. 
 
 The man who don't know where Moody's shirt store is. 
 
 These will suffice for the present. On another occasion we 
 shall call for a lot of lady photographs which we very much 
 desire. 
 
 SWEET GAME, 
 
 Eecorder Summers sold himself beautifully, the other night. 
 He was out with several others on a coon hunt, near his place 
 up the Jackson Kailroad. The dogs treed a "varmint," the 
 peculiar odor of which kept the other hunters at bay; but the 
 Kecorder, whose olfactories never notices small things, went 
 up to the tree, and whilst looking up to catch a glimps of the 
 " darned coon," found out it w^asn't a coon. We need not 
 particularize further than to state that he discovered it to be 
 a polecat. No one would come near him; and he might well 
 have said, with Hamlet, "Now, etc., hell itself breaths forth 
 contagion to the world!" 
 
 One of the Recorder's companions during the day shot a 
 sap-sucker, mistaking it for a field-sparrow, and concluded to 
 have the bird cooked, as a dainty morsel for supper. The 
 Recorder took the bird to his cook, an old wench, and gave 
 her the necessary instructions. "Wat! cook dat birdl" ex- 
 claimed Aunty in astonishment; "Who gwine to eat him?" 
 The Recorder explained that it was a young friend of his, who 
 had a fancy to the bird, which he had shot for a field-sparrow, 
 and was bound to eat it. " Wa' dat man come fum ? " asked 
 Aunty, not able to get over the idea of cooking snch a bird. 
 "He come from old Shortgrass, down in old Virginny," 
 answered the Recorder. "Wat! no, massa, dat man nebber 
 come fum old Sho'tgrass; dat wa'Jcome fum, and dey aint 
 nobody dar wat can't tell a sap-suck' fum a fiel'-spa'. No 
 sir-ee! dat man neber come fum old Sho'tgrass!" "Well, 
 Aunty, cook the bird the best way you can, and let the man 
 have it." "Yes, massa, I'll cook it mighty nice, but de old 
 nigga can't cook de smell down ! " The bird was in good time 
 served up to the epicure, who made several attempts to eat it, 
 but failed miserably; the flavor being a leetle different from 
 what he had expected. He still maintained, however, that he 
 had shot a field-sparrow; and has an idea now that the Re- 
 corder tricked him by having a woodpecker cooked for him in 
 place of the bird he had handed over. 
 
SPECKS OF WAR. 
 
 All the war does not belong to Europe; for on Tuesday 
 there was a right lively speck of it at the intersection of Ro- 
 man and Lapeyrouse streets, in the Third District. We yes- 
 terday mentioned that a young man named Jean Baptiste 
 Berthele, or Bartolet, had shot his father in the shoulder with 
 a shot-gun, at the place above named; and that the father, all 
 bleeding and distressed, called upon Recorder Long and asked 
 the arrest of his fire-eating, son, as being dangerous and in- 
 sane. With that our report terminated. What followed the 
 old man's complaint, was in all respects beautiful. 
 
 A warrant being issued for the arrest of the fiery Jean Bap- 
 tiste, it was placed in the hands of the three cool and resolute 
 officers, Carroll, Frank Ducoing and Ximenes; the three going 
 to make sure of the arrest, it being represented that Jean 
 Baptiste had with him a double-barreled shot-gun and lots of 
 ammunition, and was quite willing to shoot, having proved 
 his willingness by peppering the aged author of his being. 
 Jean Baptiste's house is a httle cottage standing in a garden, 
 with a picket fence in front. The three officers arrived and 
 knocked at the gate. 
 
 Jean Baptiste came out with his gun under his arm, and 
 fiercely asked what was wanted. The officers politely said, he, 
 himself. The words were scarce spoken, when the muzzle of 
 the gun was stuck through the pickets, and whang I went the 
 first barrel. Ducoing ran up street, Ximenes ran down street, 
 and Carroll ran across the street; and as the latter fled in a 
 line with the gun, the second barrel was whanged after him. 
 Fortunately nobody was touched by either shot. After firing 
 his second shot, Jean Baptiste retreated with his gun into his 
 house; and Carroll, who had wheeled about, fired a shot or 
 two after him with his revolver, as he ran, but without hitting 
 him. The next moment Jean Baptiste was barricaded within 
 his castle. 
 
 The allied besieging forces rallied in a moment to storm the 
 house and seize the fire-eater before he could have a chance to 
 re-load his gun. The gate was forced, and one of the officers 
 hammered at the door with the butt of his revolver; all loudly 
 calling upon Jean Baptiste to open the door, which they tried 
 ineffectually to force. Jean Baptiste shouted in reply that he 
 would open the door in a minute; and as he spoke the be- 
 siegers heard a grunting, with a sound of jerking at some me- 
 tallic substance. They at once apprehended the sounds to be 
 
134 
 
 CIlESCETsTT-SHITvTK. 
 
 those of the fire-eater ramming home a load or t-^vo more iii 
 his gun. 
 
 They didn't wait for Jean Baptiste to open the door. Car- 
 roll dodged around to the rear part of the house, where he 
 concealed himself, with his revolver ready to blaze the enemy 
 in his rearj should he appear; Ducoing went around the 
 neighborhood^ trying to borrow a gun, but was unsuccessful. 
 A lapse of over an hour followed; Jean Baptiste closely barri- 
 caded in his house, Carroll still hiding behind the house; Du- 
 coing off travelling after a gun, and Ximenes flying back to 
 the Kecorder's office to get what he called a "death warrant," 
 meaning a warrant to authorize the officers to take Jean Bap^ 
 tiste, dead or alive. Ximenes could not find the Kecorder to 
 get the warrant; he told the state of the case to Lieut. Simon, 
 and then flew post-haste up town to the City Hall, to get a 
 death warrant from the Mayor; where also he failed. Ducoing 
 at last got a gun, about a mile from the scene of battle; but 
 no ammunition. He returned to the seat of war, but could 
 find neither powder nor shot at any of the corner groceries. 
 He had good reason to be disgusted at the totally defenceless 
 state of the neighborhood. 
 
 The first skirmish, with the gun and pistol firing, had so 
 thoroughly scared the neighbors that they all kept in doors, 
 and the streets around Jean Baptiste's castle were deserted. 
 The defiant hero of the shot-gun meantime kept up the excite- 
 ment. Not caring to venture out of his fort, he raised the 
 windows, poked out his gun and blazed away at every one that 
 came within sight. He thus fired some eight or ten shots at 
 intervals, luckily never hitting anybody. No wonder the 
 nsighborhood became so quiet. 
 
 Meantime the alarming news reached Lieut. Simon that 
 Jean Baptiste was outside his house, with his gun, watching 
 for Carroll to come out of his kitchen, into which he had re- 
 treated for dear life. The Lieutenant at once decided upon 
 visiting the scenCj and upon resorting to stratagem rather than 
 force. He slipped on his hunting-suit, took his shot-gun 
 (which was empty,) and went to Jean Baptiste's, his intent 
 being to represent himself as being a fatigued and thirsty 
 hunter, just in from the swamp, and dying for a drink of 
 water. The trick might have succeeded but for the neighbors, 
 who, from their concealment were watching the progress of 
 events, and who, upon seeing the Lieutenant, a great big fel- 
 loWj in hunting-dress, with a double-barrel gun, felt that they 
 were no longer in danger, and came pouring out of their houses 
 on all sides. 
 
SFECKS OF WA.U. 135 
 
 Jean Baptiste, seeing the multitude, ftnd presuming that his 
 house was to be taken by storm, resolved to die in its defense. 
 The Lieutenant's calls to him to open the door were un- 
 heeded; and again was heard from within, the sounds of a 
 desperate man madly loading his gun. Without further hesi- 
 tation or delay, the door was burst open, and with the aid of 
 the other officers who had rallied around the Lieutenant, the 
 desperate Frenchman was sprung upon and pinioned in a mo- 
 ment. It was found that he had used up all his ammunition, 
 and that he had been ramming his empty gun, and with such 
 violence as to break the rod and leave a piece in the gun. 
 
 The final charge and storming of the castle was fronted by 
 officer Mazerat, who had become properly "enthused" by 
 having two doses of shot fired at him while attempting a par- 
 ley through the pickets ! " How nobody got hurt in all the 
 shooting is indeed a wonder. 
 
 As Jean Baptiste was borne off in triumph, the most laugh- 
 able scene of the whole exciting and ridiculous affair took 
 place. The surrounding inhabitants, rejoiced at the capture 
 of the common enemy, fired a/ew dejoie with pistols and guns 
 which had till then remained invisible. The terror inspired 
 by Jean Baptiste had been so complete, that each owner of a 
 weapon had held on to it, thinking perhaps, he might be 
 called upon to defend his life with it, and coldly and cruelly 
 refusing to honor the police with the loan of a weapon or per- 
 sonal aid, in their dire necessity. 
 
 Jean Baptiste was yesterday arraigned before Eecorder 
 Long, and sent to the Insane Asylum. He is^ a rough and 
 stupid looking man, about twenty.five yearsj old; and his 
 neighbors, with that charity and correct judgement for which 
 neighbors are so proverbial, contend that he is not crazy; not 
 a bit of it. 
 
A PRACTICAL JOKE 
 
 A good thing laappened all around on several streets the 
 other night. A long-legged individual, who some time ago 
 was crippled with rheumatism, so as to have to walk with 
 canes and crutches, was bragging in a jovial party how well 
 he had got and how fast he could run, A short-legged man 
 in the party rather doubled his great speed, and also thought 
 he wore the legs that could beat his friend's long ones, A 
 proposal was at once made and agreed to, that the two should 
 test their speed by running around the square, in opposite 
 directions, the loser to treat the party. The wink was passed 
 round, and all but the long-legged man knew there was to 
 be some trickery in it, The square to be encompassed on this 
 occasion was that well-known and highly popular square 
 which is bounded by St. Charles, Camp, Poydras and Gravier 
 streets— a right big chunk of a square, as everybody knows. 
 
 The party stood on St, Charles street, between Commercial 
 Place (which bisects said square) and Gravier street. The 
 racers started, Longlegs running towards Gravier street and 
 Shortlegs towards Poydras, But the latter merely slipped 
 through Commercial Place, turned the corner of Camp, went 
 a little way toward Poydras, and stood in a doorway until he 
 saw Longlegs coming up from Gravier; when, all panting, 
 Shortlegs met him under full headway, again slipping through 
 the alley, turned St. Charles toward Gravier, passed his 
 friends a little distance, then halting, wheeled about and 
 came running violently up to the party, just as Longlegs came 
 down panting from Poydras, A dispute arose as to which 
 runner had won^ and the only decision which could be come 
 to was that the race must be run over again. This was done 
 with the same result as before. Again there was a dispute, 
 and a third race was run, This time, however, the jokers con- 
 cluded they had had fun enough, and very humanely per- 
 mitted Ljonglegs to lose the race and pay for the drinks. He 
 has since discovered how he was tricked, and hereafter, when 
 he runs races, will be ^' keerful " what square he is on. 
 
18 
 
 OAD TO THE YUNC; AMERRIKEU. 
 
 Orlmiti piimp ! stewpenjus skwliirt ! mi 
 Hat ia thine. I hav seou thee. And 
 Am pm-fecktli kont^nt^d. Much I 
 Hed ov thee, and menv wnnders hurd. But 
 Know i kno thow art indeed 
 Punkins ; and i^unkins of that orimiti 
 Kind as must be seen to be proi>€iii 
 Apreshinted. Thow art phitly , 
 Named, O Yung Ameniker! For youer 
 Destined to nock things holler, and 
 Talk the wrags fi-um orl creashun. 
 
 Wen yew kum^to town, 
 Grate skhwirt, we diddent like 
 Youer loocks, fur youer klumsi wen 
 Asleap. And many joaks we had 
 At your eckspens. Purtickuiui*li 
 We'n yew busted youer wind bag 
 At the knew bacin trile. Gim' 
 Wingpheald and Gaok Adams both 
 Toald us knot to be tew phast — to hoald 
 Oner horses je-st a litel wile. But 
 We woodent. And yew went hoam 
 In disgrais. But stewpenjus skwhirt ! 
 The goddf? did knot dissert the-e ; and 
 The grate verander cort on phire. 
 
 Twas then, orimiti pump, yew [ 
 
 Shode yonerseipli. Kripeld an yew [ 
 
 Ware, yew toddled owt Yew smoaked t 
 
 And yew snorted. And grate I 
 
 Kingdum how yew sk whirled ! Yew \ 
 
 Wus a site to sea. Phiremen kwit • 
 
 There wurk and klusterd rownd t 
 
 Yew thickli ; and the theaves thay | 
 
 Stopt a steelin, and the wotchmen \ 
 
 Stopt a wotehin; and thowsands poreci ? 
 
 Erorn every direckshun to see yew r 
 
 Porin worter. Yew w^os kok of | 
 
 The wark then, ile swair. Fur wen [ 
 
 The phire put out the grate I 
 
 Verander, yew i)ut out the phire ; | 
 
 And then you smuthered the \ 
 
 Smoak, and if thade a let yew t 
 
 Luce, yewed a put owt the briks | 
 
 Likwiz, as yew did an Eyerichman, | 
 
 Tho knot on purpis. Grate skwhirt ! 
 Ime glad youer docile. Tork of the 
 Elielunt of Dellhigb, what drownded 
 A porltry talur cors he diddent 
 
I 138 
 
 cR,ii3Scnffij>rT-8H:ii^E:. 
 
 ;! 
 
 Like liini, -with his track phuli of 
 Mudd and worfer ! O, young Amer- 
 Biier, j-oud a t«.ken the eomieat 
 Outen that ellefant or orl the ellefuiatis 
 Outen Apbi-ieker; and iph yew ev«j- 
 Git mad in OrleenB, hears one hool 
 Emigreat instfenter. Bnt to 
 Re*nme my theani. 
 
 Ovrer apht«r ower, oriiniti pump ! 
 Did I gaze on thee inxaptured. Wen 
 I sor yew standing thare wurkin like a 
 DutGchmaa orl day long, and knot a 
 Gii^isin anny, and a swettin without 
 Smel; a sukin up the muddy worter 
 Liie it taist^ gud, or had a dash uv 
 Bed-i in it., and skwhirtin it out 
 like a young Niaggery, or 
 lik you wus sik at stununik; knot a 
 Stoppin to taik breth, nor hdUerin 
 Owt for brandi : knot a single gud 
 Bi mi luT, gud bi, or hundred yeers 
 Ago ; but aktin the part of a grate 
 Oridginel, with a pheller a pokin yew 
 Up behind, and yew a thundrin 
 And a skwhirtin Like yon diddint kair 
 Wether skool kep or knot — wen i sor 
 Orl this, inunortel pump ! mi 
 Hart sweid at the thort of thi tmxLS- 
 Bendant grat-enes and the glori thai 
 Awates thee. And I dropt a 
 Tier fur past aidges, whot never 
 Sea the like. 
 
 [1 
 
 But, great ma^een, 
 The wethers worm, and I must 
 Clothes, I onli wish i wus 
 A Oollorsus of Boads, and the miti 
 Farther of worthei-s a streem of 
 Jewhp. Ide stand athwort it, one 
 Phoot in the Knstojnlious, further 
 In AJjeei-s, and ide hav thee, grate 
 Pump, fui- mi stror, and suk 
 Tlirew thee forever. Fur ime 
 Dri, and must ink owt fur a 
 Frend. Yung Amerriker, adew. • Lfmg 
 May yew skwhirt 
 
l! 
 
 BOXIANA VS. LAW. 
 
 As oui' two ftieiids seated tiiemseives the other day in a 
 eonple of cane-bottoms, m a shady re<!^ss in Theati'e Alley, 
 not a thousand miles from the Dew Drop, said Yon Slather- 
 skins, '' Smiffles, did I e^er t-ell you about that little affair I 
 had with Professor Mauley, the gymnasium man, when I was | | 
 practising law some yeai's ago V "' "No, I believe not. " ''Well, 
 111 tell it to you, " And he proceeded: 
 
 I was new and raw in the business then, and loafed around 
 the courts, catching up whatever little (irumbs of business 
 might fall from the legal table. One of these crumbs, one day, 
 was my engagement for the defence, in a suit ]jrought by the 
 Professor agamst a lot of boys who had taken lessons in his 
 gymnasium, and leii ^-ithout paying. The Professor's lawyer 
 soon eiitabhshed the trath of his allegations: and I, in re- 
 sponse, pleaded the minority of my ciient-s, and satisfied the 
 court as I thought, that no such claim could be enforced in 
 law. The other la>\wer responded to this by saving that 
 claims coidd be enforced against minors, if it could be shown 
 that the article or consideration received had tended to their 
 mental or physical improvement, and so on. 
 
 A happy idea struck me. I determined to blow the prose- 
 cution into smoke, and earn a little fame as well as the fees. 
 I attacked my opponent's rejoinder by denouncing the gym- 
 nasium as a sink of iniquity — a place charming enough to un- 
 ffuided youth, but delusive, and ultimately demoralizing and' 
 latal — a school whose only curriculum was made up for buffers. 
 This is only an outline of what I said. I warmed up as I 
 proceeded, and must say that afterwards I was really snr- 
 rised at my o^m eloquence. I concluded by saying that 
 
 'ofessor Mauley's tuition fitted his pupils rather for the 
 bea-stly purheus of Gallatin street and St. Mary's Market, than i 
 for what nature and their families intended them— namely, 
 futmre respectable citizens and ornaments to polite society; 
 and that to allow the prosecutor's claim in this case, would be 
 to aim a blow at the very foundations of civilized society. j 
 
 The other lawyer came down on me like a duck on a June- 
 bug. To admit the ti*uth, it was }i£. that made me smoke. After 
 flinging some terrible sarcasms at my legal knowledg-e, he in- 
 dignantly disputed my argument, and urged, on the contrary, ! 
 that so far from the gymnasium being the jjlace I had de- 
 scribed it, it was kept by a gentleman, and patronized only by \ 
 gentlemen and gentlemen's sons, which he could prove over- | 
 
 i 
 
140 
 
 CHESCIillSrT-SIIIIN-E. 
 
 wheimiiigly if tlie Coui-t desired the proof. Furtlierinore, the 
 exercises at the g*ymiiasium, so fai* from being demorahzing, 
 were of an eminently refined, artistic and healthfal character; 
 they develoiDed the muscles, expanded and hardened the chest, 
 gave a healthful flow to the blood, and, in boxing especially, 
 a quickness to mind and body both, that inspired that spiiit 
 of self-confidence and readiness of action which invariably 
 marked the path of the gentleman through life — and so on. 
 
 But of this enough. How the case went, I don't remember, 
 but I beheve I never received my fee, nor ever afterward felt 
 any particular pride in the result of the case. But while the 
 trial proceeded, I noticed that the professor kept his eye fas- 
 tened upon me, with an expression that might have unsettled 
 the nerves of any man save one safely wrapped up in the ma- 
 jestic panoply of the law. I left court, feeling an instinctive 
 dread of the man; the more so, when cool reflection assured 
 me that I had been a little too hard upon his gymnasium, the 
 only means left him of obtaining an honest hvelihood. 
 
 Next day I met him on the street. Disposed to conciliate, I 
 smiled and nodded. He took notice of neither smile nor nod; 
 but as he passed, swept me with a glance from the tail of his 
 eye, so cold and cutting, that it almost felt like a scratch fi'om 
 the point of his own foils. I was glad when I got away a safe 
 distance from him. I met him often afterwards; and several 
 times, as we approached, and he saw me, a sudden and ner- 
 vous upward hitch of his left elbow, caused me as suddenly to 
 de\iate rather more from a straight line of march than I was 
 in the habit of doing in passing people on the streets. I 
 didn't like this much; it galled my sense of self-respect; but 
 what help was there for it V Several times I almost wished he 
 would hit me, that I might be put out of my suspense, and at 
 the same time obtain honorable satisfaction in a prosecution 
 for assault and batt-ery. But then the pain of the punishment 
 in such a case was more than I could bear to think of. You 
 know he is a thundering gi*eat big fellow, with a fist as big as 
 an elephant's foot, one blow from which would knock a thin 
 chap like me into the middle of the ensuing month, if not out 
 of the year entirely. I was really afraid of the man, and had 
 no peace of mind. 
 
 But the thing cooled down by degrees. Several years 
 passed; and then, when by chance I and the Professor met, 
 we passed each other civilly, without taking the least apparent 
 notice of ea-ch other. 
 
 One day I went with a fiiend into Santini's to take a diink, 
 and at the counter met the Professor and a fiiend of his who 
 
130X.lJsJ^^ VS. I.A.W. 141 
 
 AA'ere staudiiig v/iiiting for drinks likewise. The Professor's 
 friend liappened io be a friend of mine also. " Good morn- 
 ing, gentlemen," ho said, in a lively pleasant Yvay: "put your 
 money back — you drink with us, gentlemen; and what, not 
 acquainted '? Pardon me. Professor Mauley, allow me to 
 make you acquainted with my talented young fiiend, Nebu- 
 chadnezzar Von Slatherkins; a rising man at the bar, sir. 
 And Von, let me make you know Professor Maiiley, who keeps 
 the great Southern Gymnasiimi and. Occidental School of the 
 Muscular Sciences." Brought face to face in this way, both 
 of us had to make a show of pohteness ; so we grasped hands, 
 and I said, ''I believe Pve met the Professor before, but 
 where I can't think." He said at the same time: "Yes, I 
 believe we have met, but it was a long time ago." But I was 
 no less surprised than pleased at the v,^armth of his grasp, 
 and the friendty geniality of his smiles and his subsequent 
 speech. 
 
 After we had taken our drinks, I called the Professor aside, 
 and said, "There w^as a little tiff between you and me, in that 
 law case, you know. I'm sorry you took ofience at me, for 
 what I said was pui'ely professional and not personal; and 
 though I believe 1 got the woi-st of that case, I had no feeling 
 whatever against you, and hope that you had none against 
 me." "Pshaw!" he exclaimed, laughing and slapping my 
 back, "you don't think. Pd try to remember a trifle like ^that 
 in any other than a good-natiired way, did you ? Pshaw ! I 
 really forgot it the next day." We took another drink and 
 parted, I with thanks in my secret heart to the Lord for his 
 many mercies, in enabling me to reconcile an enemy who had 
 caused me more real terror than any man I ever met j)re- 
 viously. 
 
 We were "hale fellows " ait^r that, every time v;e met; and 
 seldom parted without taking one or more drinks. One day 
 when we met, the Professor said, " W'hat's the matter, Von '? 
 you look pale and puny." " Nothing particular is the matter; 
 I am naturally thin and pale all the time." " Yes, you think 
 you're well, but you're not. You want a shaking up ; your 
 blood is sluggish; you never take exercise. "VVhy don't you 
 come round to the Grymnasimn sometimes?" " Yv ell, I'd like 
 to, and believe it K-ouJd do me some good; but, Professor, to 
 tell the truth, — I liavn't done anything lately — I'm out of 
 
 money." "Money be d d; don't want it; come round 
 
 whenever you feel like it, and pa}^ when you feel like, and itll 
 be all right if you never x^ay." "Thank you kindly; I will." 
 "Are you particularly busy just novr?" "I believe not." 
 
142 0K,K8cis2>rT-eH:i?5-B^ 
 
 "Neither am I; bo, come along now; you need exercise; it'll 
 do yon good; come!" 
 
 I went with him willingly to the gj^mnasium. He showed 
 me eveiything in the place, and finally stopped at the boxing- 
 pen. Great, soft-looking )x)xing gloves were hanging round, 
 and the floor w^as covered with a thick layer of saw-dust, to 
 mske the fails easy, a.s the Profe&sor explained. Said he, 
 "^Vhat do say to a little trial with the gloves, to begin with?'' 
 ''I'm agreeable,'' I said; ''I believe they're the only things I 
 ca /I do anything with, up here/' He gave me a pair of the 
 gloves, which I put on, and he put on a big pair himself. He 
 then phiced me in my position, and proceeded with his instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 " That foot out so, that's it; your other heel behind so; keep 
 your toes ready for springing ail the time. Now, I propose to 
 tap you in the left eye; these will be my motions when I 
 attack." Quick flourish in the air. "Now, .to stop my blow, 
 you must do so." Flourishes, "When I make Ikis pass, you 
 muat make thai; fend off my pass this way, and the smartest 
 one of us will tap the other's eye.'^ More iiourishes by both. 
 " You understand, now, do you ?" "Yes." "Ready." '•K•ead3^" 
 
 We both made a flourish, and in that same instant I per- 
 formed a back sommei^sault and landed full length on the saw- 
 dust His gloves and the sawdust together knocked the wind 
 entirely out of me ; the glove felt rather like a club, I think, 
 and the sawdust like a granite pavement. I raised up and sat 
 in the s?awdust till my head quit swimming, at the same time 
 rubbing my eye to soothe the pain. As I rose at last, I said, 
 "Look here, Professor, don't hit so hard; it hurts; I can't 
 stand it." "Yes you can stand it/" he said; "I always tap 
 my pupils in that way; because, you see, if they fail and get a 
 little hurt, it makes them the more active and careful the next 
 time they come to the scratch, so as not to go down again. I 
 always [tap tliem in that way, and keep on at it until I get 
 them spry enough to keep me from doing it. That's the only 
 way to teach boxing. Von. Now, I intend to drop a little 
 feeler on your right eye. These are the motions." 
 
 He fixed me again in the jjosition, and showed me and made 
 me follow the motions. I would have given a liundred dollars 
 to get away from there, but I saw no means of backing out. 
 •'You understand now, do you?" " Yes, I — I — believe I do." 
 " Eeady." " Ready." Over I went, with a harder fall, I think, 
 than before. It was positively cruel. "^Mien I got able to 
 speak, I felt a little mad, and said, " Professor, I tell you I cattt 
 stand this— you hit a fellow too devilish hard — you knock one 
 
■|^_^-yi;j\>ttpTf-r. 
 
 BoxtAisr^ vs. XmAJW^. 148 
 
 all to pieces. I ieli yon I won' I stand to jou again, nnlesB you 
 promise not to hit "so bard-'* "There, now, Von, don't get 
 exoit6<i; let me tell you it is the Tery ivorH thing you can do." 
 Here, a faint suBpicion flitted a(^oss my brain that there might 
 be a double-meaning to his word worst, and that his friendship 
 was all a siiam, and that he was now taking his satisfaction out 
 of me for that little alfair in court " For," he blandly con- 
 tinued, " no man vdll ever make a boxer who can't take a blow 
 in perfect good humor." 
 
 There was no |ba<:-king out, and I shrinkingly stood up for 
 the third round. This time it was to be a light feeler on the 
 nose, "between the peepers." He placed me and instructed 
 me as before, and at the closing in, I went over the third time. 
 I'll swear it was the heaviest blow and fall of all. I raised up 
 slowly on the sawdust, with the blood streaming down over 
 my mouth and shirt-bosom; and as, unabled t-o speak, I sat 
 there with my handerchief mopping the blood, he appeared not 
 to notice it, but smilingly went on giving me instructions about 
 the next round. This, he said, would be what was called the 
 "stop-lick;" it was aimed just over the belt, in the pit of the 
 stomach, or '"brea-d-basket" as it was technically termed. As 
 soon as I got my mouth clear of the blood, I shouted, '' No, 
 d — ^n you and your stop-lick; I won't try it any more. I'm a 
 
 d d fool, an infernal muggins, that I didn't see through it 
 
 sooner; but I underetand it all now, I do." "Well what do 
 you see through?" he piously asked. "Just this, Professor^ — 
 you didn't forgive me for that little affair in court that time, 
 and you've always been dying to thrash me, I know; but yon 
 knew if you did it I'd have you up for assault and battery, and 
 would be still ahead; and so you've just been tlirowing sand 
 
 in my eyes, to seduce me into this d d place and half kiU 
 
 me, under the pretence of giving me lessons in your d— — d 
 science. That's it. Professor; you re ahead of me now, I admit 
 it; but I forgive you — I forgive you," 
 
 The Professor mildly and m^eekly denied the charge, and 
 after assisting me to wash, asked me to take a drink with him. 
 This I did, being afraid of making him mad by refusing. 
 
 Bmiffy, this is true, everv^ word of it, and the Professor wiU 
 tell you BO. We meet once in a while now-a-days, but 7 am 
 now the man who refuses to nod. Let's ie^e a drink. 
 
ANOTHER GOOD 'UN ON THE "BEAST." 
 
 The following, related to us by a friend, we liave not as yet 
 seen in print, so loe shall print it. Wlien that amiable son of 
 Massachusetts, General B. F. Butler, was in command at Nor- 
 folk, Virginia, during the war, an honest, simple minde-d lady 
 of that city wrote a letter to a Mend in a more Southern lati- 
 tude, and in alluding to the General's proceedings there, put 
 him down as " Beast Butler," The letter had, of course, to be 
 inspected before crossing the lines, and the quadrapedal prefix 
 to the General's name caused the transfer of the letter to the 
 General himself. He at once had the lady brought before him 
 under arrest, and terrified enough she was. Showing her the 
 letter, he frowningly asked her if it AYas hers. She faltered 
 forth an affirmative answer. " Then, madam," he asked, "will 
 you be pleased to tell me why you put me down as a beast?" 
 "Law, u-eneral," she replied, in hei* teiTor, " I didn't mean no 
 harm, indeed I didn't; / thought it iius your name, because 
 emi^yhody caUed you so!" She was dism.is^sed, but the letter 
 wasn't forwa.rded. 
 
 TEEMFC BUT HAITT INCIDENT. 
 
 On Satui'day there was quite a scene in a house on Poydras 
 street, not far from the market. A woman who Imd been sick 
 some days to all appearance died. She w^as examined and pro- 
 nounced dead. Preparations were made for the funeral, and 
 a young lady relative went alone into the room where the 
 corpse lay in order to make preparations to lay it out for 
 burial. A terrific shriek and a fall were heard; those outside 
 rushed in and found the girl on the floor in a faintmg fit, and 
 well nigh fainted themselves, for there was the dead woman 
 sitting up in bed, looking around and inquiring in a feeble 
 voice what all the noise was about ! She had moved her head 
 as the girl approached her; the girl's scream had aroused and 
 alarmed her, and not knowing that she had been taken for 
 dead, she sat up to inquire into the matter. She had simply 
 been in a trance, and fortunate was it for her that she revived 
 as soon as she did. She improved visibly, and will probably 
 soon be well. 
 
REGULAR OLD ODD FELLOWS. 
 
 If the two men mentioned below were not old odd fellows, 
 they were certainly odd old fellows. The account of the first is 
 chpped from our forty-year-old file of the Louisiana Adver- 
 tiser. 
 
 Died, in Eastport, Maine, Elias Bates, aged fifty-two ; a man remarka- 
 ble for the eccentricity of his life, and the peculiarities of his opinions, 
 especially with regard to religion and a future state. By his will he 
 directed that his body should be enclosed in lead, bound with hoops of 
 the same, and, instead of being committed to the earth, to be taken to sea, 
 three miles S. S. W. from Sail Kock, (West Quoddy Head, ) and there, at 
 sunrise, committed to the deep, with face towards the sun, "in reverence 
 to that second God of nature whom he worshipped;" and to insure the 
 compliance with those directions, gave very considerable legacies to two 
 persons, on condition that they carry them into fall effect ; and they were 
 complied with. He also directed that the mourning dress should be dove 
 silk, with the sun painted on the left arm, and the plate on his coffin to 
 bear also the emblem of the sun, which directions have been followed. 
 He had, for about three years, not been able to walk owing to a paralytic 
 affection, but retained his senses fully till within a few days of his death, 
 when he became both speechless and senseless. 
 
 Old Bates was hardly as odd a customer as the old German 
 who founded the little town of Hamburg, in South Carolina, 
 on the Savannah river, opposite the city of Augusta, Georgia. 
 We have forgotten his name, but that matters nothing. He 
 was quite wealthy: ovmed nearly all the land opposite Au- 
 gusta, and besides his negro slaves, employed a large number 
 of white men in difterent mechanical avocations. He paid 
 well; but his system of labor was extremely rigid. If a man 
 worked one minute after the dinner bell rang, or one minute 
 before the instant for returning to work, he -was soundly cursed 
 and abused; if he was a minute behind time, the abuse was 
 just the same. 
 
 Many years ago, before the railroads in that section were 
 built, there was an old-fashioned bridge connecting Augusta 
 with the South Carolina side. The corporation of Augusts 
 owned most of the bridge, but our old German had a large 
 share in it. When the railroad was built, and a railroad 
 bridge became necessary, the old bridge was torn down. The 
 old man being vehemently opposed to raikoads and innova- 
 tions of all kinds, persistently stood up for the old bridge, but 
 was overruled. From that hour up to the moment of his 
 death, his hatred of and hostility to Augusta and its citizens 
 was intense and unrelenting. Thenceforth he procured all 
 his supplies and hired all his workmen from Charleston and 
 19 
 
146 
 
 OBJESCEZSTT-SHINE. 
 
 other places: the embargo between himself and Augusta was 
 complete. 
 
 He at one time declared war against the Augustans, and 
 gave them notice that he was going to bombard them. By a 
 lavish use of money he succeeded in actually fortifying one of 
 his hills overlooking the city; raised breastworks, and mounted 
 them with a lot of old cannon that he had managed to rake up 
 somewhere. But when it came to manning and firing the 
 guns, his sappers and miners refused to act as artillerists. He 
 tried his utmost to get men to ''Hft Augusta out of its boots," 
 but of course could not succeed. His proceedings were, as 
 might be supposed, a source of great amusement to the Au- 
 gustans. 
 
 On another occasion, he took an extraordinary method of 
 showing his contempt for the Augustans, and vaunting his 
 own superior wealth and enterprise. Up to that time, there 
 was no settlement on his property facing Augusta; Hamburg 
 had not been built. At great expense and much labor, he 
 secretly collected from the eastward a large quantity of lum- 
 ber, all dressed, grooved, and in every way prepared to erect 
 into houses instantaneously. Then one night, as soon as it 
 was dark, he set all his forces to work, and during the night 
 put up ten or fourteen neat-looking frame houses, ranged in 
 village style. When morning came, the Augustans could 
 scarcely credit their senses. They rubbed their eyes and 
 looked again and again, and were almost tempted to believe 
 the devil had been at vv-ork. But there was no devil about it; 
 it only showed what a funny old codger could do with his 
 money; and that was the foundation of the present town of 
 Hamburg, so named by the old man out of his affection for 
 the "faderland." 
 
 On the fourth of July each year, it was his custom to give 
 his hands hohday and a big barbecue, to which, also, every- 
 body on his side of the river was invited; but never once a 
 G-eorgian; he looked upon Georgians as rattlesnakes. On 
 these occasions he was orator of the day, and the invariable 
 subject of harangue was the meanness of Augusta and its people, 
 and his anxiety to get his hearers to join with him in open 
 and bloody warfare against the contemptible city that had 
 ruined his bridge. His auditors as invariably devoured his 
 eatables and drinkables, and applauded his speeches, but 
 somehow or another could never be prevailed upon to organ- 
 ize into companies to pitch into the Georgians. 
 
 When death overtook the old man, at last, his hatred of 
 Augusta was as fierce as ever. In his will, he directed that 
 
R-EGHJI^^K. OLD ODD IPELLO"VrS. 147 
 
 he be buried not in the usual manner, in a grave, but in a pit, 
 standiQg with his face towards Augusta, in token of his eternal 
 hatred and defiance of that city; and in that manner he was 
 accordingly buried. 
 
 A FMCY SCENE AT THE OAKS. 
 
 We learn that two medical gentlemen of Enghsh extraction, 
 (one an extractor, being a "practical dentist") had a little dis- 
 pute on some medical subject, which induced them day before 
 yesterday, to "have it out" at the Oaks; weapons, mauleys; 
 distance, such as might suit their mutual convenience. 
 
 The rules of the P. R. were agreed to; that is, not to hit 
 below the point where the brandy stops. The " grizzly bear" 
 of Metarrie Ridge, better known as D — n M — rr — tt, was bot- 
 tle-holder for both, umpii'e, referee, timer, stakeholder, and 
 undertaker for whoever might have his "chunk put out." The 
 said D — n also constituted the outside audience. 
 
 The antagonists fit not only for personal satisfaction, but for 
 a wager of $250 a side. They peeled and fit. No foul blows 
 were given. They fit like gentlemen. Each gentleman went 
 down " several times " before the mauleys of the other. The 
 ground was soft from the rain then falHng. Both got 
 bloody in front and muddy behind. It was mud and blood all 
 round. 
 
 After a really well-contested fight, the dentist came off vic- 
 tor, still good'for another hour's work. He refused to accept 
 the stake he won, saying that his victory in the fight was satis- 
 faction enough for him. 
 
 Their mutual friend D — n, like a true philosopher acting as 
 seconds for each and umpire for both, effected a reconciliation 
 •between them. He then took them to the nearest convenient 
 place, where they washed off their blood, and scraped off from 
 their garments as much of the mud as possible. 
 
 The whole thing ended with a really jolly and amicable 
 breakfast at Dan Hickok's. Had the town Icnown that such a 
 fight was coming off at the Oaks, the town would have been 
 half empty at the time of the fight. The fact is, that New Or- 
 leans is a lively place in the summer time. 
 
CHAWING CHAWK. 
 
 We have frequently seen people chewing chalk for the heart- 
 burn, but never yet saw such a " chaw" as was gotten off 
 upon our friend Dave Chawk, of Metairie Kidge renown, night 
 before last. There came along, after dark, a wretched looking 
 man, with four distressed looking children — two boys and two 
 girls, aged respectively about 9, 11, 13 and 15 years. 
 
 The father (for such he was) called upon Dave and told a 
 piteous tale. He had been a Confederate soldier and a prisoner 
 at Fort Delaware; had, after much trial and privation, reached 
 his former home at Little Eock, and from that place with his 
 children to this, his wife having .died in 1858. He had much 
 trouble in getting here, and wanted to go to MadisonviUe; but 
 he was reduced to his last fifty cents, and was fatigued, dis- 
 heartened, and miserable ; and all the boon he craved was a 
 place for him and his little ones to lay their heads that night. 
 Dave doesn't keep a hotel exactly; but his better sensibihties 
 were touched, and he ordered beds to be made up for them. 
 Before they retired, he asked if they wouldn't eat something. 
 The offer was accepted, food was provided, and the manner in 
 which they all devoured it, showed that they had really been 
 suffering, and were almost in a state of starvation. Dave felt 
 that inner satisfaction which all men feel when they bestow 
 charity upon deserving persons. He fed and bedded the poor 
 fellow and his children; then flung his ribs on the outside of a 
 Santa Cruz punch or two, and bedded himself. 
 
 Yesterday morning, the children washed their hands and 
 faces, and were so punctual at breakfast ! But where was the 
 father ? He was called for, searched for, but nowhere to be 
 found. It was a mystery to Dave, and appeared to be equally 
 a mystery to the children. Up to yesterday afternoon there 
 were no tidings of him. Whether he purposely left his chil- 
 dren on the hands of a stranger and sloped for parts unknown, 
 or committed suicide, or was dragged off and murdered for his 
 money (!) were conjectures to which no solution could be 
 offered. 
 
 Dave is not cruel enough to turn the children away, and yet 
 has no idea of adopting them; though, as he says, the chil- 
 dren have, with the greatest unanimity, adopted him, they 
 having, child-like, omitted the httle formality of consulting 
 him on the subject. Dave seems to be somewhat *' chawed" 
 about it. He was in town last night, taking the advice of his 
 friends in his dilemma. We advised him to give the children 
 
CHA^WNG- CH^WIv. 149 
 
 away if he did not wish to keep them, and he concluded at 
 last he would do it — if he could. 
 
 So, to help him out of his scrape, we here announce to mar- 
 ried people who may not have been gifted with pledges of their 
 double-blessedness, that if their philoprogenitive instincts 
 yearn for the usual animate objects, Dave is ready to supply 
 them with a boy or girl, right away, off-hand. He says they 
 are fair-looking, intelligent children; and beUeves, as they 
 don't grumble over their victuals, and haven't stolen anything 
 thus far, that they will not abuse the kindness of any who 
 may take a fancy to them. 
 
 CHRISTMAS DAY IN NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 * * * * During the forenoon the streets were a sight to 
 behold. They were so populous with ladies, gentlemen, chil- 
 dren, all classes of the population, that the wonder was who 
 staid at home and took care of things. The mingled chill of 
 the atmosphere, and the bright, genial sunshine, seemed to 
 color the faces, brighten the eyes, and Hghten the step of every 
 member of the gay multitude who thronged the streets. The 
 shop-windows were magnificent; the shops were jammed. 
 Every coffee-house had its club of nog and toddy conviviahsts; 
 every veranda post had its coterie of happy loungers, who 
 seemed to know every body that came along, and to have 
 something pleasant to say to each. And great portions of the 
 multitude in different parts of the city — particularly the lady 
 portions — streamed in and out at the churches, in observance 
 of the solenm ceremonies which recognize Christmas as the 
 anniversary of the advent of the Great Kedeemer — nothing 
 less and nothing more. 
 
 St. Charles street was, as it always is on holidays, the vortex 
 of the public gayety. There was jubilee in all the coffee- 
 houses, and '^ brick-carrying" began at an early hour in the 
 day. The flags of the showmen fluttered in the breeze, and 
 gay crowds v/ent in beneath to see what the flags fluttered 
 about. The king attraction of all, however, was Spalding & 
 Eogers' Amphitheatre. What a sight it was inside, and how 
 delightful to behold ! It was really the great feature of the 
 
150 CRESCEN-T-SHIN-E. 
 
 day. Crowded in every part, up stairs and down, with multi- 
 tudes of joyous cherubs, hugging newly bought toys, with 
 happy-looking manias and papas scattered about in their midst, 
 in proper proportion — the little ones now staring, now titter- 
 ing, now screaming, at the wonders and comicalities of the 
 ring, as they passed in brilHant succession before their delighted 
 gaze. It is quite certain that there was never before in this 
 city such a show for the children as the present circus. Each 
 day performance is so largely attended, and the children so 
 thoroughly dehghted, that they themselves are a first-class 
 show to any man who has not forgotten that he once was a 
 child. 
 
 Of course, in our rounds about town, we saw everybody we 
 knew, and a few besides. One bright and pleasant-looking 
 friend we met was Matt Peel, of the Campbell Minstrels, who 
 came here a few days since on business, and concluded, very 
 sensibly, to stay and help us through with our Christmas. His 
 Company, since leaving here, have, to use a common expression, 
 "swept everything before them;" and, at the last accounts, 
 were sweeping things in Jackson, Miss. 
 
 Another friend we met was a brother reporter, who was 
 flying about, preparatory to flying over to Mobile, in order to 
 fly from the hymeneal altar into the realms of illimitable bHss. 
 We bade him an affectionate and commisserative adieu — as we 
 do to all those who thus get beyond the control of themselves 
 and the counsel of their friends. He was quite a different- 
 looking individual from the one whom we met shoi*tly after- 
 wards, looking over the books in one of the gift book stores. 
 This individual was unshaven — his wardrobe was neglected — 
 his countenance was solemn — and his general appearance spoke 
 of hard times. His look was anything but that of a man bent 
 on spending money rashly for Christmas presents. " Hallo, 
 Pete !" said a friend, accosting him cheerfully, " going to 
 invest for a book?" "Well, yes," answered Pete; "that is, 
 if they've got a bible for what I've got to spar." "A bible! 
 the devil !" exclaimed the other, " what do you want with a 
 bible, you old reprobate ?" " Well," said Pete, " I don't 
 adzactly want it for myself, for I never have time to read it; 
 but the fact is, the old woman's kinder industrious, and the 
 family register in the bible we've got now is filled clean out 
 with births; and as the old woman hasn't quit, I've got to 
 begin on a new register !" Whether Pete bought his bible or 
 not, we did not remain to see. 
 
 In the afternoon the population kept possession of the 
 streets, with an apparently unflinching determination not to 
 
CHR-IST3Vr^4^ D^Y IIS^ NE-^^ OE-LE^N-S. • 151 
 
 relinquisli them. Around St. Charles street, and other 
 nogg and toddyish localities, the work, of brick-carrying pro- 
 gressed with augmented activity, and rapidly increasing acces- 
 sions to the numbers of the laborers. Of the famous dinners, 
 and family and social reunions, with which the day was hon- 
 ored in-doors, we need not speak; for those were, of course, 
 universal, up town and down, in town and out. The old say- 
 ing, " Christmas comes but once a year," was remembered and 
 acted upon everywhere. When we saw how the hard crusts 
 of human nature dissolve on such a day as Christmas, and 
 hovr genially and delightfully the genuine humanity shines out 
 on every side, it is v.dth a sigh that we reflect there is only one 
 Christmas in the year. We would like to see one every month, 
 if not oftener. 
 
 At night the weather still being serene, though bracingly 
 cool, the streets were again swarmed, and the different places 
 of amusement were filled viith crowds of gay, happy people, 
 who were determined to be delighted with whatever offered. 
 And when the theatre was out, the surrounding saloons and 
 other retreats looked as if they intended to keep Christmas 
 going till morning.. The brick-carrying army was very largely 
 increased, some of the recruits cavrjiRg merry bricks; some 
 carrjdng quiet, blissful bricks; some carrying sleepy, stupid 
 bricks; some carrying belligerent bricks, and some few carry- 
 ing sick bricks. 
 
 It v,^as a special pleasure to us that in our rounds during the 
 day, we did not pick up a single item of interest in our usual 
 line — no accidents, no fights to speak of, nothing to prevent 
 the police from enjoying the day just the same as other peo- 
 ple. So may it always be on Christmas — and may all the 
 coming holidays be as bright and pleasant as was yesterday. 
 
STEALINGS OF THE POETS. 
 
 It would seem that many of the old poets were regular 
 petty larcenists, in the way of steahng each other's ideas and 
 expressions, generally changing or improving the form of the 
 latter. We have heard it said that in this respect Shak- 
 speare was the greatest thief that ever lived. It is certain 
 that he borrovv^ed largely from the Bible, and that, like a Cali- 
 fornia miner, he accumulated a wealth of golden thoughts and 
 expressions by his patient delving into the mountains of litera- 
 ture piled up by his predecessors. 
 
 We give a few specimens of the stealings of the poets, 
 which we think will interest our readers. 
 
 Goldsmith has the credit of — 
 
 Man wants but little here belovr, 
 Nor vrants tliat little long. 
 
 Of course, he never knew that Young, in his "Night 
 Thoughts," had said before him, 
 
 Man wants but little, nor that little long, 
 
 Young himself vv'asn't much better than he should be, when 
 
 he wrote — 
 
 Be wise to-day: 'tis madness to defer. 
 
 It may be, however, that he didn't know that Congreve had 
 said before him, in a letter to Cobharn — 
 
 Defer not till to-morrow to be wise; 
 To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise. 
 
 Campbell enjoys the honor of — 
 
 Like angels' visits, few and far between, 
 
 Whilst Blair had previously written — 
 
 like an ill-used ghost. 
 
 Not to return; or if it did, its visits. 
 
 Like those of angels, short and far between. 
 
 ' 
 
 Nor was Blair even the originator of the idea, 
 in 1711, wrote in a religious poem: 
 
 But those who soonest take their flight 
 Are the most exquisite and strong: 
 
 Like angels' visits, short and bright, 
 Mortality's too weak to bear them long. 
 
 All the world has Gray's verse by heart: 
 
 One Norris, 
 
STE^LIISTGS OF THE POETS. 15^ 
 
 Full many a gem, of purest ray serene, 
 
 The dark, unfatliomecl caves of ocean bear; 
 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 It is barely possible Gray didn't know of the lines pre- 
 yiously written by Pope, in bis " Eape of tlie Lock :" 
 
 There kept my charms concealed from mortal eye, 
 Like roses that in deserts bloom and die. 
 
 Or that Young had written : 
 
 In distant wilds, by human eye unseen, 
 
 She rears her fiowers and spreads her velvet green ; 
 
 Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace, 
 
 And waste their fragrance on the savage race. 
 
 Or Shenstone: 
 
 And, like the desert's lilly, bloom to fade. 
 
 Pope wrote — 
 
 Is it for thee the linnet pours her throat ? 
 
 And Grray changed it thus: 
 
 The attic warbler pours her throat. 
 
 Pope is famed for having vv^itten — 
 
 Vice is a inonster of such hideous mien, 
 As to be ^ated needs but to be seen; 
 
 Which bears no resemblance at all (!) to Dryden's couplet: 
 
 For truth has such a face, and such a mien, 
 As to be loved needs only to be seen. 
 
 Now, for Mr. Dryden's honesty. 'Twas he that said : 
 Great v/its to madness are nearly allied. 
 
 Rut he was only the first one that said it in English. Eigh- 
 teen hundred years ago, Seneca said it in Latin, and before 
 him, again, Aristotle had said it in Greek. 
 
 Pope said: 
 
 Praise undeserved is satire in disguise. 
 
 Walter Scott afterwards wrote, in his novel " Woodstock:" 
 
 "In' some cases, exaggerated, or inappropriate praise, becojies the 
 most severe satire." 
 
 Again, Pope said: 
 
 Ye little stars, ^ hide your diminished^heads. 
 20 
 
154 
 
 CRESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 And Milton followed. with 
 
 at whose sight all the stars 
 
 Hide their diminished heads. 
 
 Mr. Pope once more: 
 
 Is it, in Heaven, a crime to love too well? 
 
 Crashawe had previously asked the question in this shape : 
 And I, — what is my crime ? I cannot tell, 
 Unless it be a crime to have loved too well. 
 
 And Lamartine has written it as his own, in French : 
 Est-ce un crime, O mon Dieu, de trop aimer i^le beau? 
 
 Dr. Johnson, in 1749, wrote: 
 
 Let observation, with extensive view, 
 purvey mankind, from China to Peru. 
 
 Warton wrote, the year before : 
 
 All human race, from China to Peru, 
 Pleasure, howe'er disguised by art, pursue. 
 
 This is Shakspeare's : 
 
 All the world's a stage, 
 And all the men and women merely players : 
 They have their exits and their entrances, 
 And one man in his life plays many parts. * 
 
 Borrowed from Palladas, a Greek poet of the third century: 
 
 This life a theater we may call, 
 Where every actor must perform with art. 
 
 Or laugh it through and make a farce of all, 
 Or learn to bear with grace his tragic part. 
 
 Or from Pythagoras: 
 
 This world is like a stage, whereon many play their parts. 
 
 Shakspeare was such a confirmed pilferer, that he used to 
 steal from himself. In " Titus Andronicus" he wrote: 
 
 She is a woman, therefore may be wooed; 
 She is a woman, therefore to be won. 
 
 And again, in " Eichard III" : 
 
 Was ever woman in this humor wooed ? 
 Was ever woman in this humor won ? 
 
 But if Shakspeare stole, nearly everybody stole from him. 
 In his "Merchant of Venice," he wrote: 
 
 Then music is 
 
 As those dulcet sounds in break of day. 
 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 
 
 And summon him to marriage. 
 
4 
 
 ':)SigTT-,-,jT.i-..-ir?,"?n, -.a.'-i,;.-^ r.m- • ii s-. .7,, 
 
 STEJ^UTNGhS OF THE POETS. 155 
 
 It was left to a poet of our own time — Alfred Tennyson — 
 to steal the above and shape it thus : 
 
 A dream 
 Dreamed by a happy man, while the dark east 
 Is slowly brightening to his bridal morn. 
 
 In Shakspeare's "All's WeU that Ends Well," occurs the 
 thought : 
 
 From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 The place is dignified by the doer's deed. 
 
 Pope stole it and put it thus: 
 
 Honor and shame from no condition rise : 
 Act well your part — there all the honor lies. 
 
 Ben Johnson's ballad — 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes, etc. , 
 
 is merely a translation from the Greek poet Philostratus, who 
 flourished at the Court of the Emperor Severus. 
 Butler's couplet in "Hudibras," 
 
 For those that SlJ may fight again. 
 Which he can never do that's slain, 
 
 was a mere alteration from that of Sir John Minnes : 
 
 He who fights and runs away. 
 May live to fight another day; 
 
 which Sir John in his turn had borrowed from the old Greek, 
 Demosthenes. Who Demosthenes got it from, is not recorded. 
 Bm-ns sang — 
 
 Her prentice han' she tried on man, 
 An' then she made the lassie O. 
 
 Borrowed from "Cupid's Whirligig," published in 1607: "Man 
 was made when nature was but an apprentice, but woman 
 when she was a skillful mistress of the art." 
 Napoleon the Great has the credit of saying : 
 
 From the sublime to the ridiculous there is but a step. 
 
 He borrowed it from Tom Paine, whose works were translated 
 into French in 1791 : 
 
 The sublime and the ridiculous are often so nearly related that it is diffi- 
 cult to class them separately. One step above the sublime makes the 
 ridiculous, and the step above the ridiculous makes the sublime again. 
 
 Tom, in his turn, had it from old Hugh Blair, who said : 
 
 It is indeed, extremely difficult to hit the precise point where true wit 
 ends and buffoonery begins. *** **** * 
 
 It frequently happens that where the second line is sublime, the third, in 
 which he meant to rise still higher, is perfect bombast. 
 
156 CRESCElS^T-SHIlSrE. 
 
 Blair, in liis turn, was indebted for tlie idea to the ancient 
 Greek critic and writer, Longinus. "Who Longinus borrowed 
 it from we have never heard. 
 
 The above specimens, we think, show that there are few 
 trite or pretty sayings of modern origin, pr of the exclusive 
 coinage of one author. Often the infant idea steals into exist- 
 ence, no one knows how, or when, or where — and it is picked 
 up and dressed and re-dressed by different literary nurses, 
 through centuries and sometimes through ages, until at last it 
 effulges in full golden maturity. 
 
 COl^^FEDERATE CLASSICS. 
 
 Whatever hardships were endured by the Confederate sol- 
 diers, how^ever scant provisions and clothing were for the 
 armies as well as civilians, one thing must be acknowledged, 
 they kept up their full reputation for classics, and made abun- 
 dant display of the same. 
 
 Sometime in August, 1864, Louis Cruger, the then Comp- 
 troller of the then Confederacy, an old Washington clerk, and 
 Avithal a regular " book w^orm," issued a circular to the dis- 
 bursing agents of the Government, having for its object to 
 impress upon these ofiicers the fact that they must procure 
 what the armies needed, yet deal justly with the civilians. He 
 also added a number of decisions rendered in the Supreme 
 Court of the United States at various times since its organi- 
 zation in support of his vievv^s. The whole was prefaced by an 
 effasion of highfaluting English phrases considerably inter- 
 mixed with Latin quotations. The preface we have not on 
 hand, but the style and tenor of the same attracted the atten- 
 tion of the Quartermaster of one of our most po^oular Louis- 
 iana Generals, then stationed at Alexandria, and he being 
 obliged, as he says, in his boyhood, when sent to the spring- 
 by his ma in Germany, to pass close by a school house, picked 
 up Latin enough to explain the meaning of these phrases to 
 his less fortunate co-laborers, in the following humoristic 
 style, thus ridiculing a^n individual duly imbued with the dig- 
 nitv of a forty-second clerk in the f ortv-third Auditor's office : 
 
CONF-EDER^TE CH^A^SICS. 157 
 
 Headquarters Axtique-Lexioo Grammarun-Soctety, ) 
 AxD Bureau of Anoeot Languages of the Trans-Mississippi Department. \ 
 
 Alexandria, La., Nov. 20, 1864. 
 
 As inevitably some persons liave crept in the responsible offices of Q. 
 M. and C. S., wbose early education bas not been such as is desirable for 
 such important positions, (owing, no doubt, to the fact that their parents 
 considered Latin and Greek dead languages, ) this Bureau condescends to 
 explain the preface of a circular lately issued by the Comptroller of the 
 Confederate States, in such a manner as will make it intelligible even to 
 the most sadly neglected. 
 
 The Bureau likewise offers a short appendix of decisions rendered at 
 various times since Eomulus and Eemus up to the present day, which 
 have, no doubt, been inadvertently overlooked by the compiler : 
 
 1. Misera est servitus ubi jus est ant vagum aid incertum. This means: It 
 is miserable to be a nigger on a steamboat, when the mate lacks decision 
 of character, and therefore has only reference to Eiver Transportation. 
 
 2. Bonum est stare decisis, si non ono.mfeste falsis aut inequis. Literally 
 translated into Anglo-Saxon it reads: It is well to hold on to a star deci- 
 sion, even if it is manifestly "s^orong and iniquitous. 
 
 3. Judex honum secundu cequmn et honum judicat. A good judge decides 
 it to be fair and good after drinking the second bottle, and is no doubt 
 intended as a guide for appraisers in the revenue service. 
 
 4. Boni judicis est lites derimere. It is the duty of a good judge to blow 
 the lights out; having particular reference to military lights; also to insure 
 the complete blindness of the Goddess of Justice. 
 
 5. Ne quid detrimenii res pubUca capiat y- in English: The Government 
 don't take anything but what is detrimental to its welfare. This is espe- 
 cially recommended as a patent consolation to ail citizens who have been 
 gently stripped by impressing officers. 
 
 6. Beus solit sapus, has reference to abstract L of the Q. M. Depart- 
 Dient, and means: God alone understands that form and its fillings. 
 
 Appendix of Decisions. — 1. Calico horses are not liable to impressment; 
 vide Marcus Aurelius vs. Dan Kice. This decision is based upon the theory 
 that the spots might attract the fire of the enemy. 
 
 2. In procuring the staple article of sugar, Impressing Agents should 
 confine themselves i)rincipally to the crops of widows, whose husbands 
 have lost their lives in battle, or at least to those of such families as have 
 lost in like manner one or more of their male members, inasmuch as they 
 will need less for home consumption than those who never enlisted. At 
 first glance the decision may seem a harsh one, but it is based upon the 
 decision of Julius Ccesar vs. Widow Cleopatra, in which the Court held: 
 ' ' Didce et decorum est pro patria mori. " Dead men need no sugar. 
 
 3. Sanitary issue of whisky falling short at its destination, the deficiency 
 must be accounted for as> lost in transitu, after a thorough survey having 
 been held on the several packages by the Commanding General and his staff. 
 
 4. Popped corn is not liable to tax in kind, and may be exported to 
 Mexico without proper license of the Eevenue Officer; the exporter only 
 running the risk of losing his transportation, but not the article contem- 
 plated to be exj)orted. Decided by Judge Mongahelus Bushwhacker, C. 
 S., vs. Sally, t w. c. 
 
 5. Purchasing agents of cavalry horses vvdll, before paying full schedule 
 price for the animals, first convince themselves that all gallop alike and at 
 a certain metre ; for their guidance the following hexameter is hereby 
 adopted: 
 
 Quadrupedante pidrem sonitu quatt ungula campmn. Horses get over 
 ground on four legs. 
 
SUCH IS LIFE. 
 
 It is an old and true saying that " one-half the world 
 knows not how the other half lives," and it is inevitable 
 perhaps that most of us should be in ignorance of the trials, 
 troubles, deprivations, and seK-denials of that portion of 
 humanity who suffer in silence and alone, debarring them- 
 selves of the consolation of sympathizers — too proud to let 
 the world or their friends know of their necessities or the ter- 
 rible straits to which they may be reduced. People affected 
 with this sensitiveness of feeling are easily discouraged in any 
 attempt they make to better their condition, by the thought- 
 lessness of some, the carelessness of others, and by the down- 
 right rudeness and inhumanity of many, and arrive quickly at 
 the conclusion that they were designed by fate to be, in the 
 full meaning of the phrase, cases of " suffering humanity." 
 They live on through life with their troubles and disappoint- 
 ments buried in their bosoms, and but few ever know the 
 yearnings for sympathy and encouragement such persons feel, 
 and for the lack of which a bright talent has been obscured 
 and the world deprived of the influence and good example of 
 one who could appreciate and know how to alleviate a great 
 deal of the distress of that same world's "suffering half." 
 
 Here in New Orleans there are instances of men who have 
 not money to send to market for meat for their little ones at 
 home, yet will not let their real distress appear, but who can 
 meet with parties on the corners of St. Charles and other 
 streets, who will invite them to "take a drink," to "take a 
 ride," " take an ice cream," etc., but who never say, " Can I 
 be of service to you in getting a situation ?" or " here is the 
 price of a bottle of wine, which you can hand to me when 
 you get a situation." Men are frequently driven to despera- 
 tion by this kind of friendship, and it were better for them if 
 it was frowned down and abstained from by all. 
 
 These reflections have been induced by a little observation 
 of life in this good city of New Orleans, where the public 
 charities and private expenditures are not exceeded by any- 
 city in the world, in proportion to its wealth and population. 
 There are men and women among us who would scorn the 
 idea of receiving charity, even from their fiiends, yet are 
 without the means of support — out of work, and do not know 
 who to apply to for it; probably receiving a heartless response 
 when they do apply to some. "What can be done for these 
 unfortunates ? Let every one in town feel it his duty to assist 
 
SXJCH IS LIFE. 159 
 
 some one out of employment to make an honorable livelihood. 
 If yon know of any one so situated, and can do nothing yourself, 
 inquire of your friends in his behalf. But do not check and 
 probably destroy an honorable and praiseworthy ambition by 
 a chiUing reply to the applicant for employment. By refer- 
 ring to the advertisements of the various city papers you will 
 find many that want situations who are competent for almost 
 any position; some of them have probably become foot-sore 
 and heart-sick in their honest but fruitless endeavors to obtain 
 emploj^ment by personal application, and fuially come to the 
 conclusion that as everybody reads the papers they will pub- 
 lish their wants, and then exist for awhile, between hope and 
 fear, on the expectation of a favorable reply. 
 
 A FIFTY DOLLAR REPARTEE, 
 
 Some good things occasionally come up on the sea of dull- 
 ness with which our city has of late been environed. A young 
 lawyer of our city, just returned "from the wars," lately 
 made an act of association for a certain corporation in this 
 place and charged fifty dollars for the perpetration of the 
 same. Now, in war, those who charge have the disadvantage 
 of those who are charged. Li peace it is somevfhat different, 
 and the chargers generally come o^ first best. The corporation 
 entrenched themselves and refused to surrender. 
 
 " Mr. President," said the lawyer, " I understand that by 
 the articles of your association you allow fifty dollars for 
 bui-ying one of your members." 
 
 "Yes, we do," answered the unsuspecting president. 
 
 " Well," replied the lawyer, "will you refuse fifty dollars to 
 give life to your association ?" 
 
 This well directed shot " brought down the house," and the 
 corporation signed the articles of capitulation. So much goes 
 to prove that ready wit brings money. 
 
A MORSEL FOR THE LADIES. 
 
 It is but recently that the announcement of the death of the 
 widow of the poet Tom Moore has gone the rounds of the 
 British and American press, coupled with notices due to a 
 rehct of a poet so famous. , 
 
 We clip the following about Mrs. Moore from an old file of 
 the "Louisiana Advertiser," printed in this city in the year 
 1824. It then went the rounds as a fresh and pleasant thing 
 about the poet and his bride, when they were young and in 
 their honey-moon. The bride may reaUy have written the 
 lines; but much v/e fear they were dictated by the happy 
 bridegroom : 
 
 Mr. Moore married a lady of the name of Jenny Hamilton, 
 daughter of the table decker to the princesses. She had a 
 poetical turn, and is said to have assisted her husband in writ- 
 ing his plays. The following specimen of her poetry was 
 handed about before their marriage. It is addressed to the 
 daughter of the famous Stephen Duck: 
 
 You will wonder, my Duck, at the fault I must own, 
 Your Jenny of late is quite covetous grown ! 
 Her millions, though Fortune should lavishly pour, 
 Yet still I v/ere wretched if I had not Moore. 
 
 And gay as I am, could I spend half my days 
 
 In dances and op'ras, assemblies and plays ; 
 
 Her fate your poor Jenny v/ith tears v/ould deplore, 
 
 For, alas*! my dear girl, what are these without Moore. 
 
 'Tis the same thing with matters, v/ith money, with men, 
 (And I think I'll never shall be happy again;) 
 I've daughters, I've prattlers, I've lovers full score, 
 And yet, like true woman, I sigh for one Moore. 
 
 Mamma, she cries, ' ' Jenny, why all this ado ? 
 You may have a husband, j'ou know, child, or two."" 
 But I i)Outed, I v/himper'd, I fretted, I swore, 
 I would not have one if I could not have Moore. 
 
 The Baron (poor devil) has just now been here, 
 And has offered to settle eight hundred a year; 
 But I answered the fellow as I've answer'd a score. 
 You know that won't do, sir, for I must have Moore, 
 
 Yet for all this bravado, I vow and protest, 
 That av'rice ne'er yet had a seat in my breast; 
 For, I swear, I'd not envy the miser his store, 
 So I had but enough for myself and one Moore. 
 
J^ JdlORSELlIErOR, THEm^^DIES. 161 
 
 Though the fools I despise dare to censure my fame, 
 Yet I think I'm as wise as some folks I could name; 
 I but worship that Idol which others adore, 
 For they who have thousands would gladly haveWoore. 
 
 You'U wonder, my girl, who this dear one can be, 
 Whose merits have made such a conquest of me ; 
 You may guess at his name, but I told you before, 
 It begins with an M, but I dare not say Moore. 
 
 MORSEL FOR SPORTSMEN 
 
 The following is one of the " Louisiana Advertiser's" reports 
 of the Spring Meeting in 1824: 
 
 The second day's purse of $500 was ran for yesterday by 
 Stockholder and Kate, the first heat being run in fine style 
 and won by the former; in the second heat Stockholder was 
 so uncivil as to tread on the foot of Miss Kate, which the 
 rules of the club pronounced foul play, and the purse was 
 awarded her for the injury. A correspondent has happily hit 
 off the occurrence in the following 
 
 IMPEOMPTU. 
 
 A paradox quite was the case of to-day, 
 
 And some found it a very hard case 
 That the mare bore the purse in triumph away, 
 
 When the swift-footed horse won the race. . 
 
 To give you the reason is easy indeed, 
 
 (And it was not from anger or hate, ) 
 Why Stockholder trod, in the hight of his speed, 
 
 On the soft little hoof of Miss Kate. 
 
 If such be the favors that judges' bestow 
 
 On horses that prove too uncivil, 
 The biped that treads on his partner's soft toe 
 
 Should surely be sent to the devil. 
 
 21 
 
ONE WAY OF GETTING A WIFE. 
 
 Our readers are familiar v/itli tiie case of tiie confidence man 
 C. W. Dean, who recently came down Ked river, and obtained 
 money from a cotton house upon a false order for cotton which 
 he pretended to have brought down on the boat with him. 
 One diXY last week this Dean had his examination before Re- 
 corder Monroe, and was duly committed for trial; the evidence 
 against him being clear and positive. Ever since his arrest 
 Dean has conducted himself in such a good-humored, caval- 
 ierly manner, that the officers around lock-up and prison have 
 been more or less captivated v/ith him, at the same time that 
 they knevf him to be a villian; to the marrow of every bone in 
 his body. He is not physically a tremendous or fearful look- 
 ing man, but carries himself with such a Jack Sheppardish 
 coolness and Dick Turpinish gentility, that the j^ohce unani- 
 mously agree upon him as "one of 'em;" as splendid a "son of 
 a gun " as ever roamed at large in defiance of the peniten- 
 tiary. It was this Dean who had the Chief of Police and his 
 specia-ls out on the celebrated Opelousas swamp hunt for mur- 
 derers, week before last; and the blood-hounds used on that 
 occasion were his, he having brought them dov^Ti Red river 
 with his other "goods and chattels." 
 
 Among these goods and chattels, (to return or rather come 
 to the subject of this notice) was a young and handsome 
 wife; the wife's twin sister; 'and a little brother of the two 
 sisters. The wife, Mary Dean, is not more than sixteen years 
 of age; the sister, Martha, being a tvv^in, is, of course, the 
 same age; and the brother is a little boy eight or ten years 
 old. Whilst the sisters are pretty and interesting, and the boy 
 intelligent, they are as innocent and unsophisticated a trio as 
 ever any disaster put in the path of a villian or threw into the 
 distresses of a strange city. The sisters are not only "green," 
 but even "'soft," to humiliation; having been reared by poor 
 parents in a comparatively ba-rren and desolate part of the 
 country, and ha\ing never been taught much more than to 
 keep their faces clean and their hair tied up. 
 
 Since Dean's arrest the sisters and their little brother have 
 been living in a hired room on Annunciation street, furnished 
 with a cooking-stove, beds and other things bought by Dean 
 on his arrival here with them ; but at the same time they have 
 been without a cent 6f money, or anything to eat; and they 
 have had their food all the time, only from daily donations of 
 money from the special police, who could not help sympathiz- 
 
ONE ^V^IT OF G-ETTING- J^ ^VI3?^E. 163 
 
 ing with them m their deep distress and utterly forlorn condi- 
 tion. All this is bad enough, but the worst is yet to be told. 
 
 When Dean was committed for trial last week, by Recorder 
 Monroe, and ordered to be returned to prison, his young wife 
 was in Court, and had a final conversation with him, before he 
 stepped into the Black Maria. She showed that she was like 
 a bird, paralyzed and helpless under the gaze of a snake. As 
 Dean left her, his parting injunction was this, or words to this 
 effect : " You go back home, all of you, where you come from, 
 and wait for me. I'll be in prison some time; maybe a few 
 months, or maybe a year; but when I get out I'll come for you, 
 and I'll find you; if you don't go home. 111 find you wherever 
 you are; I'll find you if you're in hell. Go home, and stay 
 there till I come ! " 
 
 Dean was trotted ofi" to prison ; and the poor wife commu- 
 nicated to the poUce her distress in this, that she had no means 
 of getting back home with her sister and brother; and after 
 this she related her story, which she had been afraid to tell up 
 to that time. The story was told with eveiy appearance of 
 sincerit}^, and was corroborated in the most conclusive manner 
 by the sister and brother. The story is a hard one to believe ; 
 it sounds more like an invention of romance than an actual 
 occurrence in real hfe. 
 
 Mrs. Dean's statement was, that her family had lived in 
 poverty on a small patch of ground in one of the upper par- 
 ishes of this State, bordering on Ked river; that her father 
 died some years ago, and that last year her mother died. They 
 went to live with a brother who lived in the vicinity and was 
 married. This brother's wife treated them with such severity 
 that they decided upon seeking the protection of another 
 brother, who lived or lives somewhere near Marshall, in Texas. 
 Their only valuable property was a horse and wagon and a lot 
 of bedding and cooking utensils ; with wliich, and some little 
 money and a lot of provisions, they started off for Texas, the 
 boy driving. On the fourth day of their foolish pilgrimage 
 they encountered their e">il genius. 
 
 As they were crossing a prairie, not a great distance west of 
 Shreveport, they met a man on horseback, v/ho stopped and 
 asked them where they were going. They told him, v/ith all 
 the honesty of innocent country children, that their parents 
 were dead, and that they were on their way to Marshall, in 
 Texas, where they expected to find their big brother and to 
 put themselves under his protection. The man di'ew a revol- 
 ver, and cocking it, said that if they were looking for a brother, 
 he was looking for a v/ife, and v/as bound to have one, out of 
 
164 CRESOENT-SHXN-E. 
 
 that very wagon. The sisters and the brother, terrified, inca- 
 pable of resistance, and far off from, any hnman aid, did not 
 know what to do, and had nothing to say. 
 
 When Dean (for it was no other than he) told the girls that 
 one of them must be his wife, he added that it didn't matter 
 which of them he should take, and left it to them to decide 
 which would have him. Thoroughly frightened, they were 
 incapable of deciding, or of giving him an answer, one way or 
 another. He then settled the matter by making the sisters 
 "pull straws" for him. He stated that whichever pulled the 
 short straw should be his wife. He prepared the straws, 
 and holding them between his thumb and finger, with the 
 inner ends concealed, offered the outer ends to the girls. His 
 look and manner, and the pistol in his hand, had put the girls 
 completely in his power. Speechless and trembling, the sisters 
 drew the straws; Martha drew the long straw, and Mary the 
 short one. 
 
 Dean then announced to Mary that she was his wife, and 
 that they should be lawfully married as soon as they reached 
 Shreveport. Pohtely informing the party that they were to 
 turn back and accompany him to Shreveport, they did so with- 
 out hesitation. On the way he treated them with the greatest 
 care and politeness; told them what he would do for them all 
 when he got to New Orleans; his wife and her sister should 
 Hve like ladies, and the brother should be sent to school and 
 brought up a gentleman and a scholar. The girls and the 
 boy, at first terrified and helpless, now began to look upon him 
 as a husband and ■ brother-in-law — ^perhaps better than the 
 brother they had started to seek in Texas. The villain's injunc- 
 tion to all, not to blab about the manner of their becoming 
 acquainted and their travehng together, was faithfully obeyed 
 — all three being afraid of offending him, by any word or act 
 of theirs. 
 
 WJien they reached Shreveport, Dean sold his horse and the 
 horse and wagon of the children; pocketed the money, as pro- 
 tector of the party, and also kindly took charge of what cash 
 the children happened to have with them. He was lawfully 
 married to Mary, before witnesses : and, taking passage on the 
 steamer K. W. Povs^ell, he brought them all to this city. It 
 was probably for the purpose of providing decent quarters for 
 the girls, and ultimately effecting the ruin of the unmarried 
 sister, Martha, that he swindled Messrs. Rugely & Co. out of 
 $188, under the pretence that he brought a lot of cotton down 
 the river with him. 
 
 The family name of these young victims is Hunter; their 
 
ONE "W^Y Oir Q-ETTIlSrO- -A. Wlt^lEi. 165 
 
 home was in Winn parish; and since their arrival here, in the 
 early part of last month, their residence has been a room (of 
 which we have spoken) in the house of a Mrs. Fredericks, on 
 Annunciation street, near the Girls' House of Eefuge. Dean, 
 since his committal, has given his written order for the sale of 
 the furniture, and has sold his dogs, in order to enable his 
 wife and sister and brother to get back home. 
 
 The sisters were seen passing along St. Charles street yester- 
 day, in their cheap hoopless dresses and white sun-bonnets; 
 and the special police officers who befriended them dodged out 
 of their way for two reasons; first, because public scandal had 
 begun to attach itself to their friendship for the poor simple- 
 tons; and secondly, because they found that the girls had 
 taken several moonhght walks with some gallant painters' 
 'prentices, who had been at work near where they roomed. 
 The sum of all being this, that the girls had found new friends, 
 either good or bad, and were not in any particular hurry about 
 leaving town. 
 
 MAYBE YOU DOUBT IT. 
 
 The writer of the following actually saw what he describes, 
 and any person may see the same things every day: 
 
 I saw a pigeon making bread; 
 
 I saw a girl composed of thread; 
 
 I saw a towel one mile square; 
 
 I saw a meadow in the air; 
 
 I saw a rocket walk a mile; 
 
 I saw a pony make a file; 
 
 I saw a blacksmith in a box; 
 
 I saw an orange kill an ox; 
 
 I saw a butcher made of steel; 
 
 I saw a penknife dance a reel; 
 
 I saw a sailor twelve feet high; 
 
 I saw a ladder in a pie; 
 
 I saw an apple fly away; 
 
 I saw a sparrow making hay; 
 
 I saw a farmer like a dog; 
 
 I saw a puppy mixing grog; 
 
 I saw three men who saw these too, 
 
 And will confirm what I tell you. 
 
 To render the above intelligible and credible, just take 
 away the semicolon at the end of each line and put it after 
 the first noun in each. 
 
"HOW D'YE DOr' 
 
 The " Old Local" of the " Old Crescent" is back, though 
 feeling rather weak in the back. Four years ago, or more, he 
 started out on an European tour, and the better to protect 
 himself against the outrages and extortions of which he had 
 read so often, in the letters and books of European touristsj 
 he dressed himself up in soldier's clothes, and left with a gun 
 on his shoulder, and the trimmings belted over his shoulder 
 and around his waist. 
 
 He had not traveled milch months, before he found his travel- 
 ing costume rather disconvenient ; especially when he ran too 
 close to a globular metallic article of Northern manufacture, 
 that had not paid duty in the Southern Custom House; and 
 had said article to "puff" him, or rather blow said costume 
 entirely off him, and himself nearly into " the middle of (the 
 then) week after next." Article denominated " shell," in all 
 mihtary invoices — a hard and ugly thing, with a vicious noise 
 and very bad smell. He lived to procure a better suit of 
 clothes, and jDrosecute his intended tour in another sort of 
 way. He went and saw Europe and some of the adjacent 
 neighborhoods; and a crookeder route of travel, he flatters 
 himself, was never performed before by any tourist, of high or 
 low degree. 
 
 He went and saw Alexandria, Cairo and Memphis; Car- 
 thage, Sparta and Athens; Eome and Florence; Vienna and 
 Hamburg; Paris, Madrid, London and Manchester; Glasgov/, 
 Cork, and other places of famiKar and historic interest. Should 
 any one doubt that he really performed this tour, he is referred 
 to living witnesses in this city, who were with him. There- 
 fore, let them bear no aspersions upon his European tour. As 
 to the order and style of his travel, the little incidents, etc., 
 which contribute to the interest of his story, these are all re- 
 served for his forthcoming volume, which he is getting up with 
 the assistance of Horace Greeley and the Appletons. 
 
 Seriously, the writer is glad enough to be back, only par- 
 tially alive as he is, and to greet the many remaining readers 
 of the old Crescent who treated him well in former days. 
 And, after shedding a tear of genuine regret for the host of 
 those old ones that left when he did, and never did and never 
 will return, he wipes away that tear, and smilingly and truth- 
 fully offers his hand to all readers of the new Crescent and to 
 all people of the new regime, with this simple remark onlyi' — 
 "The dead are buried, though not forgotten; let us cultivate 
 friendship, and try to think only of our duty to the living." 
 
HIGH CHEEK BONE 
 
 " Smi%," said Von yesterday, " you must have had a good 
 deal of cheek to go and borrow that dollar of Fred." 
 
 " Well, I don't know; he lent it to me very willingly." 
 
 " Still, I think there was a good deal- of face in it. You 
 must remember that Fred is poor hut honest, and, like Artemus 
 Ward, was born of parents. He has a large family to support; 
 seventeen children and two at the breast; and it works him 
 hard. 
 
 "What works him hard ?" 
 
 " You know what I mean. He has other uses for his money 
 than to lend it to every loafer that comes along I know he is 
 a generous fellow, and will freely divide his last dollar with 
 any friend; but that is no reason why his good nature should 
 be imposed upon. Now, if you'll never offer to repay that 
 dollar, he will never ask jow for it, and that will be so much 
 dead loss to him." 
 
 " Yon, I intend to pay him." 
 
 "I don't doubt that, but you might not; it's the principle of 
 the thing I'm talking about. Yes, Smiffy, you certainly have 
 a high cheek bone. I never knew but one man who had a 
 higher." 
 
 " Thank you for that. It would delight me to hear who 
 that gentleman was." 
 
 "It vv^as Bob Buttaway. I had a bill of two hundred dollars 
 against old Skwreze, down town, for legal services; but, as I 
 failed to gain his case, he never paid me. Besides, he's a ter- 
 rible old tight-fist anyhow, about paying anybody. I sent col- 
 lector after collector to him, but none of them could get a 
 cent out of him. I looked upon the bill at last as a bad egg. 
 
 " One day I met Bob, and knowing that he had some mys- 
 terious genius in the way of squeezing money out of people 
 after the most desperate efforts of his predecessors had failed, 
 I thought I would try him one time. 'Bob,' I said, ' if you 
 can get old Skrewze to settle this bill of $200, I'll give you 
 half of it, $100.' 'Done; I'll try it,' he said; I gave him the 
 bill, receipted, and he left. 
 
 " I didn't see him again in a long time; but in the meantime 
 I had it from a friend who had heard Skrewze telling it around 
 as a good joke, that Bob came to him and said, ' Here's a bill 
 from Von Slatherkins against you for $200, and he's promised 
 me half of it if I can get you to settle it. Now I know you 
 don't want to pay the whole bill because you believe he swin- 
 
168 CHESCEISTT-SHINE. 
 
 ¥■4 
 
 died you, and no doubt lie did; but I am short of money; and 
 as you have nothing against me, couldn't you just let me have 
 my $100, and we'll consider the matter settled; I'll give you 
 the receipt in full.' The old man took him at his offer, paid 
 him the $100, and received and put away the receipt; and the 
 rascal Bob went his way rejoicing. 
 
 "Sometime afterward I met him. 'Bob,' said I, 'what's 
 this you've been doing to me about that bill I gave you to 
 collect — is that the way to do business, or to treat a friend ?' 
 'What do you mean?' he coolly asked. 'Why, that bill 
 against old Skrewze for $100 which I gave you to collect.^ 
 * Stop, Von, you didn't say anything about collecting the bill.' 
 ' I didn't ? then what did I say ?' ' You told me you'd give 
 me $100. if I could get the old man to settle the bill. They 
 may sound alike, but there's some difference between collect- 
 ing and settling. We settled the matter, and he paid me my 
 $100; and now, if you think you can get your hundred out of 
 him, you'd better go and try it I " 
 
 " Smi%, the paralytic shock that fellow's cool impudence 
 gave me laid me up. He certainly had the highest cheek bone 
 of any man I ever met." , 
 
 GETTING READY FOR THE NEXT WAR. 
 
 We know of a very prominent gentleman who is determined 
 not to be caught napping, if ever war's dreadful note should 
 be again sounded in his time. During the Confederate era he 
 suffered much from the prevailing destitution of shirts — ^which 
 to a man of his sesthetical taste in dress, was a serious calamity 
 ■ — and occasionally had to complain of a deficiency of Bour- 
 bon. He then made up his mind not to let himself be caught 
 in such a fix again, as soon as the war ended, and he had duly 
 taken the amnesty oath and secured a supply of greenbacks. 
 He purchased two hundred fine new shirts and a hundred 
 barrels of good old whisky, " and now," said he, triumphantly 
 to an astonished and inquiring friend, " let 'em spring the 
 next war as soon as they please — I'm ready for them." We 
 should think so. 
 
THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE, ETC. 
 
 An uncommon rich affair came off in and near the Tliird 
 District Recorder's Court on Saturday last. 
 
 A young man named G-eorge Hunter was arraigned before 
 Assistant Recorder Magioni, on the charge of having been con- 
 cealed on the premises of Francisco Baroda, on Frenchman 
 street, the night before, and of having stolen a carpet bag and 
 a bundle of clothing belonging to IMr. B. Hunter denied the 
 charg-e — a serious one, by the way, which is sure to send a 
 man to the "Workhouse unless he can secure the attendance of 
 some heaven-sent voucher or witness — and produced in Court 
 a person who not only vouched for him, but cleared him by 
 her testimony. 
 
 This witness was no other than i^he young and pretty wife 
 of Baroda, the prosecutor — a buxom lassie of German parent- 
 age, who had been married to Baroda but thre© short weeks ! 
 She said that Hunter was her own true lover, and had been 
 for two long years; that while he was absent over the lake, she 
 took a sudden notion to marry Baroda, which she now 
 repented most heartily, as he was a stingy fellow and a dirty 
 beast, who had done nothing to support her since marriage, 
 and hadn't given her a cent of money or any clothes; that she 
 had rather jump into the river than live another hour with 
 him ; that Hunter came to the house with her consent, did not 
 conceal himself there, and that when he left she loft with him, 
 to follow him to the end of the world; that the carpet-bag and 
 bundle contained her clothes, all given to her by her own 
 mother, and that Hunter carried them for her at her request. 
 
 It appeared from the police olScer who arrested Hunter 
 that he did so upon Baroda's information, and caught him in 
 company with the wife and the bundles when they were 
 several squares on their way up town. When Hunter found 
 Baroda and an officer after him, he hastily piished Mrs. 
 Baroda into a warehouse and told her to stay there and man- 
 age for the best till he got free again. He then went quietly 
 to the lock-up, and next morning she appeared to clear him, 
 as above described. 
 
 The astonishment of the Recorder and the officers and spec- 
 tators at the course of the bride, not yet out of her honeymoon, 
 in thus battling and denouncing her husband, and defiantly 
 avowing her intention to following her true lover. Hunter, to 
 the end of the world, may be imagined. The despised and 
 deserted Baroda appeared to be stupefied, and had hardly a 
 22 
 
170 CRESCElSrT-SHIlSrE. 
 
 word to say. Of course, the Recorder could do no less than 
 dismiss Hunter under the circumstances. 
 
 As Hunter left the court-room, Mrs. Baroda picked up her 
 carpet-bag and bundle and followed him. The crowd fol- 
 lowed, expecting to see more fun, and poor Baroda also fol- 
 lowed. At the foot of the stairs, Mrs. B. turned about and 
 regarded her husband with one glance of bitterest hate; then, 
 to crush him more completely, she ostentatiously handed her 
 bundles to her lover to carry, and took him affectionately by 
 the arm. Hunter appeared dehghted with his position, and 
 acted with all the gallantry that any lover could under such 
 circumstances. Leaving the court-house, the guilty pair 
 started out Elysian Fields street, still followed by the crowd 
 and the speechless Baroda. 
 
 - But just at the corner another scene occurred. The mother 
 'of Mrs. Baroda, having heard of the attempted elopement of 
 her daughter and the arrest, was tearing along on her way to 
 court to get the hang of the matter. She, it seemed, was 
 Baroda's friend, and detested Hunter worse than a rattlesnake. 
 Meeting her daughter in the street, in charge of Hunter, and 
 her wretched son-in-law behind, the scoff and jeer of the 
 crowd, her Dutch blood rose. She began abusing her daugh- 
 ter, and reproaching her for the disgrace she had brought 
 upon the family by her conduct; and her passion boiling 
 higher as she talked, she at last pitched into her and began 
 slapping and kicking her in the raost furious manner. The 
 crowd attempted to interfere, and the daughter started to 
 escape with her lover; but the furious mother, screaming and 
 struggling, still followed, kicking at her daughter as she was 
 held back, and elevating the young lady's skirts in a manner 
 that was perfectly scandalous to the public eye. 
 
 At last the grief-stricken "parient" of the cruel and heart- 
 less daughter was induced to desist and let the errant ones 
 take their way. Hunter, after the old woman had been 
 induced to leave, politely invited the crowd into a coffee-house 
 to take drinks. All went in and smiled, except — Baroda. And 
 that was the last we heard of the matter. 
 
 All the actors in this little drama are said to be residents of 
 Bay St. Louis. 
 
TELEGRAPH MAN BACK AGAIN. 
 
 We don't know when we were more forcibly reminded of 
 old New Orleans — wo mean New Orleans before the war — 
 than we were last night in passing the corner of St. Charles 
 and Gravier streets. To our delight — ^we candidly confess it 
 — we found the telescope man back again, just as he used to 
 be before the war, with his tripod and his long gun-like instru- 
 ment, and the usual crowd of star-gazers, Y«^ith a sprinkling of 
 ragged urchins and inquisitive newsboys, just exactly as it 
 used to be in old times. The spectacle brought back the past 
 to our mind so forcibly that we had to go into Tom O'Neill's 
 and take a diink, to relieve the pressure upon our feelings. 
 
 The telescope man disappearefd when the war broke out, 
 and has never been back from that time to this until last 
 night. Without any fuss or parade — without any advertise- 
 ments in the papers, or big posters upon the fences and walls 
 he has dropped dovai on us again; and planted himself on his 
 old corner. It really was a comfort to us to see him there^ again. 
 For a moment, we were transported back five years in time, 
 and imagined that it was 1860, and the Vv^ai- and ail its inci- 
 dents were only a horrid dream. 
 
 The telescope last night pointed at the moon: the crowd 
 evidently being anxious to verify the particulars about that 
 luminary which were set forth so elaborately and scientifi- 
 cally in yesterday's Crescent. Nearly every one stopped to 
 take a look, we supx^ose for the sake of encouraging an old 
 institution. 
 
 For ourself, we admit that we withstood the temptation to 
 look through it, for the same reason that prevented an old 
 friend of our's from stargazing before the war — old Dr. 
 R. ***** * noted for his wit, humor, and geniality, but 
 now gone to his long home. "I would give," said he to us on 
 one occasion, "five dollars to look through that fellow's tele- 
 scope." " Then why don't you do it?" we said; "it costs only 
 ten cents." "Because," he replied, "I am afraid somebody 
 will come along and catch me at it." 
 
 We are glad to see the telescope man back again. It puts 
 us in mind of old times, and of old scenes, and of old associa- 
 tions and pleasures. It is i)leasant to know that there are so 
 many people keeping watch over the stars, and seeing that 
 they do not " cut up " or otherwise misbehave themselves. As 
 an institution of old New Orleans, we welcome the telescope 
 man back to his old corner. 
 
TELEGRAPHIC. 
 
 The office of the Telegraph company for the transmission 
 of all messages except those of a military character, has been 
 removed, as has already been announced, to Carondelet street, 
 near Canal, at the place where one of our restaurateurs, John 
 Stella, formerly dispensed the solids and liquids of existence 
 to the hungry and thirsty of the crowd who frequented the 
 flags of that great mart of cottondom. This has necessitated 
 the putting up of telegraph poles down St. Charles and Com- 
 mon streets, all new, and with a look of freshness and sub- 
 stantiabihty; and eight different wires stretched along from 
 pole to pole, indicating that the telegraph business is a brisk 
 one, and keeps up with the times, if not sometimes a little 
 ahead. 
 
 Standing at the corner of St. Charles and Common yester- 
 day, in our usual philosophical frame of mind, we were struck 
 with the appearance of the new telegraphic pole which stands 
 at that corner, acting as a sort of sentinel over the clothing 
 store of our friend Fabre. There it is that the wires turn out 
 of St* Charles street and run down Common. Strictly con- 
 sidered, and as an act of evenhanded justice, that pole ought 
 not to show any partiality to either street, inasmuch as it 
 overlooks both of them, and supports the wires that run down 
 both — ^but that pole is not an impartial pole. It is not a cor- 
 rect pole. It is not a just pole. It does not do duty as a pole 
 of proper behaviour and unsullied character. Whether or not 
 it regards St. Charles street as more respectable than Com- 
 mon, or whether, being an aristocratic pole, it objected to the 
 name of the latter street, or whether it is a temperance pole 
 and does not like to look into the doors of the Orleans House, 
 certain it is it leans very decidedly towards St. Charles street. 
 Its inclinations are obviously to cut Common, and fall into the 
 lap of St. Charles. If that pole had a stomach, we should say 
 it was impressed with a realizing sense of the excellence of 
 St. Charles Hotel dinners, and was striving to burst from the 
 wiry bonds which confine it and take a seat in a salle a manger 
 of that grand hotel. 
 
 To restrain its inclinations, whatever they are, a rope has 
 been remorselessly fastened to the top of it, and stretched 
 across to the iron gallery on the second floor of Lyons' cloth- 
 ing house, and there securely tied. The pole can never run 
 away now, nor fall down, unless some of the reckless of the 
 young Democracy should strike and burn the rope, and cause 
 it to " lose the connection." 
 
 ( 
 
TEUEGHl^PHIO. 173 
 
 Queref — What is the difference between St. Charles street 
 and Camp? 
 
 Plain enough. There is only one Wire (our neighbor of 
 the South,") that runs on Camp street, while there are eight 
 that run on St. Charles. The public will not req-wire any fur- 
 ther explanation. 
 
 P. S. Although this is headed " Telegraphic," it does not go 
 under the telegraphic head, nor need the pubHc think that 
 because it is all about a pole, it necessarily contains news from 
 Poland- 
 
 A SERIOUS PIECE OF BUSINESS. 
 
 We have the authority of a reliable friend for the truth of a 
 rather serious and exciting piece of business, which recently 
 came off in one of the interior districts of Alabama. A citizen, 
 apparently much excited, called upon the Chief of the Ereed- 
 man's Bureau, and informed him that a certain druggist in 
 that town had in his employ a freedman whom he treated with 
 the most shocking cruelty — ^keeping him constantly at work 
 in all weathers, starving him, and never providing him with 
 clothing or pay, or even a place under a roof to rest his weary 
 head. The Chief, after finishing his office business, went in 
 person to investigate the matter. With a good deal of official 
 mm, he demanded of the druggist whether he had such a 
 nergo there as the one tha-t had been described. The druggist 
 answered gravely in the a;ffirmative. " Where is he then ? I 
 wish to see him," said the officer. " Step this vv^ay, sir," said 
 the druggist. He led the way to the fi-ont door, and pointed 
 out a half-naked, large size wooden image of an Ethiopian, 
 pounding away (apparently) for dear life in a big mortar of 
 the sam.e material. The man who gave the information was 
 subsequently sent after but not found. 
 
HIBERNIAN VS. IBERIAN. 
 
 Taking a stroll through the lower [part of the town some 
 days ago, in passing one of the cheap restaurants, which abound 
 in that quarter, our attention was arrested by a dialogue pass- 
 ing between an Irishman, in a high state of excitement, and a 
 billious-looking little Spaniard, in a state of extreme apprehen- 
 sion. The latter was standing in the open half door of, and 
 the only entrance to, the restaurant. This is what we heard : 
 
 " Arrah, get out of the way, I tell you, and let me in — I'm 
 as hungry as a wolf." 
 
 •'No entiende, Senor." 
 
 " Now, I'm a civil man, so I am, if I'm trated civilly. Don't 
 be making an omadhaun of yourself, stoppin' a man that's 
 famishin' for vittels. Get out of my way, or, by the powers of 
 Moll Reihy, I'll make you, and I'm the boy that can do it, you 
 mane loolnng leprauchan." 
 
 With this, the boy that could do it raised his fist in a rather 
 unfriendly style. 
 
 "No entiende — ^Madre deDois, no entiende,Senor," exclaimed 
 the terrified Iberian. 
 
 " T> — ^n you, you don't intend to, don't you ? "We'll thry that, 
 you yellow-bellied vagabone." 
 
 It is almost unnecessary to say what the Spanish gentleman 
 was invited to try. He was put hors du combat. 
 
 A crescented guardian of the peace heaving in sight, our 
 Spanish translator decamped, and we know not whether he 
 got his dinner that day or not, but we did see him on Satur- 
 da ylast get something neither so palatable or digestible, and 
 in a way that goes to prove retributive justice is awarded in 
 this world, as well as elsewhere. 
 
 A Spaniard, and a Hercules in appearance, was standing in 
 front of a cigar shop on Common street, puffing a cigarette. 
 Our pugilistic acquaintance came along and addressed the 
 Spaniard: 
 
 "Plaise tell me, sir, where the Freedmen's Bureau is." 
 
 "Freedman's burro," exclaimed Hercules, *'Carrajo, damn — 
 you tink I have Freedman ass ?" and without farther parley 
 our inquisitive friend was stretched on the banquette. 
 
 The Spaniard walked off composedly. The sufferer arose 
 dejectedly. 
 
 " What in the world does that mane ?" he asked of a by- 
 stander. 
 
HIBKR]SriA.lSr vs. IBERIA^N. 175 
 
 "Why that man supposed you asked him where some nig- 
 ger's jack ass was." 
 
 "He did, did he? Well thin the devil a much I can blame 
 him. And what made him think that?" 
 
 "Burro is the Spanish for jack ass." 
 
 " Burro — Bureau — well they're as like one another as two 
 paise. Freedman's jack ass! — that's a good joke on Snyder; 
 but this cut on my cheek is a d — d bad joke on Tim Hen- 
 nessy." 
 
 Exeunt omnes. 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF OLD TIMES, 
 
 As we were walking along Camp street yesterday, at about 
 the hour when people who are in the habit of taking dinner 
 usually direct their steps home, or to a friend's house, we saw, 
 coming up the street, two genuine confederately dressed private 
 soldiers such as some of us remember having seen in the old 
 times. There were the old grey homespun jacket and trowsers, 
 whose texture it would be base ilattery to call "half cotton;" 
 there was the coarse cotton shirts which we used to consider 
 luxurious if v/ashed to a dirty gray by a " contraband" at one 
 dollar a piece; there v/as the rough black hat, not made in 
 Paris by the Emperor's finisher. And above all there was the 
 old limp, the token of danger braved and injuries received in 
 bloody battle. Both of the poor fellows were crippled and 
 walking on crutches. " What is gone, is gone forever." But 
 v/e could not prevent our heart from beating somewhat quicker 
 and our pulse from throbbing faster at the sight of those walk- 
 ing relics of bygone days of danger, war and chivalry. We 
 are sure that those men were brave soldiers, and will make 
 good citizens, and we say " God bless them I" 
 
HISTORICAL INFORMATION. 
 
 Very few people, we are satisfied, are properly informed in 
 regard to the origin of many of the names of our Southern 
 States and cities. Gayarre, Pickett, and other historians, have 
 strangely neglected this branch of useful learning, and we 
 therefore propose, in our usual spirit of benevolence and phil- 
 osophical search after truth, to supply their omissions. Who, 
 for instance, knows the real origin of the name which our city 
 bears ? We shall endeavor to enlighten the public upon this 
 and other cognate subjects, and will begin with 
 
 New Orleans — The origin of this name is this: Soon after 
 the first settlement here by the French, and while they were 
 disputing about what name they should give the tovm, an old 
 Virginian, in search of health, and with a constitution broken 
 down with too many mint juleps, arrived here accompanied 
 by a negro servant, for the purpose of spending the winter. 
 The negro was an old family servant, and sometimes talked 
 with great familiarity to his master, and was somewhat addicted 
 to what Artemus Ward calls " a goak." One day, after re- 
 turning from his rambles through the town — which then lay 
 altogether below Canal street — he came back and thus accosted 
 his "boss:" "Master," he said, '' diej is always a quarrehng 
 about the name to be guv to dis place, but I kin settle dat 
 question at once. Dis place ought to be called Orleans." 
 "Why so, sir?" said the old Virginian. "Bekase I is been 
 froo de whole town ober and ober agin, and I hears some a 
 talkin French, and some a talkin Spanish, and some a talkin 
 Injun, and some nigger. Dere's people here from aU eends of 
 de world, and therefore the place ought to be called Orleans." 
 The suggestion struck the old man as a good one, he proposed 
 it next day at all the cafes, and it met with universal accepta- 
 tion. The " New" was merely prefixed to it to distinguish it 
 from a town in France of the same name; and while the pro- 
 nunciation of our city's name by some is different from the 
 way the old darkey had it, we have no doubt of the authen- 
 ticity of this history, for we take it from " a reliable gen- 
 tleman." 
 
ORIGIN OF FAMILIAR WORDS 
 
 The word " quiz," to make fun of, or poke fun at a person, 
 was tlie coinage of a theatrical manager in Dubhn, who, at a 
 drinking i^art}' vvith his friends one Saturday night, when the 
 conversation turned upon the subject of v^^ords, offered to bet 
 the wine that he could then and there coin a word which would 
 be in the mouths of all Dublin the next day. The bet being 
 taken and the party dispersed, the manager called up his call- 
 boys and runners, gave them pieces of chalk and ordered them 
 to run all over the city, chalking the word "quiz" on every 
 door, shntter and fence they came to. . This was done, and as 
 a matter of coui^se, the new word was in everybody's mouth 
 next day. The manager won his bet, and his vv-ord is now in 
 all respectable dictionaries. 
 
 The slang expression for death, "kicking the bucket," had 
 its origin fi'om one Bolsover, who, in England, a great while 
 ago, committed suicide by standing on a bucket till he fixed 
 the rope, and then kicked the bucket from under him. 
 
 The v^^ord "bumper" meaning n/iull drink when fiiends are 
 drinking, is a corruption of the toast offered in French to the 
 Pope when the Catholic religion was in the ascendant in 
 England — au hon pere. 
 
 To " dun," to press for money due, comes from! one Joe 
 Dunn, a famous bailiff of Lincoln, in England, during the reign 
 of Henry YII. He was so uncommonly successful in collecting- 
 money, that vfhen a man refused to pay, the creditor v/as 
 asked why he didn't Dunn him. 
 
 " Humbug " is a corruption of the Irish words vim hog, i^ro- 
 nonnced oom-bug, signifying soft copper, or pewter, or brass, 
 or worthless money, such as was made by James II at the 
 Dublin mint; twenty shillings of which was worth only two 
 pence sterling. At first applied to worthless coin, the words 
 became the general title of anything false or counterfeit. 
 
 The sign "viz," signifying to-wit, or namely, is an abbrevia- 
 tion of videlicit; but the third letter was not originally a z; it 
 was the mark used in medicine for a drachm, which, in writing, 
 much resembles a z, and in "viz," was simply used as a mark 
 or sign of abbreviation. 
 
 23 
 
PETITION TO AN ACTRESS, 
 
 For near a month we've seen you play 
 
 In a part of charming features, 
 Where still you hold a beauty's sway 
 
 'Mid those wild Fenian creatures; 
 But oft our feelings, sweet and warm, 
 
 Were chilled, and still it rankles, 
 That there should stand a Juno form 
 
 On such Germanic ankles. 
 
 Now tell us, lady, frank and true, 
 
 If 'twas or no you added 
 Those underpinnings to our view 
 
 Au naturel or padded ? 
 For now, at last, as we have seen, 
 
 Each ankle — biit what hoots it — 
 All in the "Wearing of the Green," 
 
 Is leathered with what suits it. 
 
 If you won't tell us, we still pray 
 
 To know the truth about it; 
 And if you won't, a word we'll say. 
 
 And hope you will not flout it: 
 If still you would, in peasant dress. 
 
 Our fond love not dissever. 
 Keep on those boots, and we will bless 
 
 Those charming boots forever ! 
 
 Paequetters. 
 
 POOR LITTLE BABY. 
 
 Last niglit, at the Varieties Theatre, a lady to keep herself 
 warm, brought along her baby under her shavJ. At an excit- 
 ing and most pathetic turn in the play, when all the house 
 was silent, (if we except the lachrymal notes vv^hich tooted 
 here and there,) baby squalled out most terrifically. All the 
 heads in the house were turned in the direction of the squalls; 
 all the gentlemen's faces saying damn that baby, and all the 
 ladies' faces saying hang its mother. We also turned, with a 
 look betraying an inclination to the damn side, when an elderly 
 friend in the next chair checked us and said, " Let the poor 
 little thing squall. I v/as a baby once. That poor child is 
 only crying over the play, with the rest; but being as yet quite 
 young, it hasn't learned how to cry without making a noise!" 
 We forgave the baby and its mother, and hadn't another word 
 to say. 
 
LONG AND SHORT MONTHS, 
 
 It is curious to note how often intelligent people are puzzled 
 to remember wlietlier a month be a long or [i short one. 
 Thousands can tell by having memorized the following lines; 
 but then there are thousands of others who never did memorize 
 them: 
 
 ' ' Thirty days liath September, 
 
 April, June and November; 
 
 And all the rest have thirty-one, 
 
 Excepting February alone. 
 
 Which has but twenty-eight, in fine, 
 
 Until leap year gives it twenty-nine." 
 
 A still simpler method than committing the above to me- 
 mory, is this: Close the hand, and touch the four lower 
 knuckles and the hollows between in regular rotation from the 
 fore to the little linger, then back to the fore finger again and 
 repeat, till the twelve months are named: the knuckles will 
 represent the long months, and the hollows between the short 
 ones. Once fixed in the mind, this is never forgotten. 
 
 CHEMICAL SNAKES. 
 
 Among the wonders of chemistry, held as a secret by a well- 
 known down town druggist, is a compound of substances, put 
 together in such a manner, m the shape of a small round ball, 
 as to send forth a beautiful little creeping snake, upon being 
 exposed to the fire or to any other sufficient source of heat. 
 The snake crawls and squirms around "like a thing of Hfe," as 
 long as exposed to heat, and when it becomes cold, a touch 
 crumbles it to dust; the ball furnishes a snake onty once. It 
 is a very amusing thing with which to astonish the family 
 circle around the home fireside of a cold winter evening. The 
 other day our druggist made up a lot of these snake-balls to 
 sell, and spread them on the iioor around the stove to dry. 
 He then became so busy in putting up prescriptions, that he 
 forgot his balls; and when, at last, he remembered them, and 
 ran to see how they were getting on, he found them all 
 changed into snakes and crawling all around the stove. He 
 was greatly horrified — not at the snakes, but at the loss of the 
 materials and labor. 
 
PRACTICAL JOKE. 
 
 A few days since, some wags down town played off a joke 
 upon a certain friend of theirs, by posting about the streets 
 the announcement of his death, with a funeral invitation 
 in the usual form. They v/ent further than this: they 
 procured the publication of the death, with an obituary notice, 
 in a French paper down tov/n. The obituary notice is reported 
 to us as having spoken of the death as rather a good thing; 
 that the deceased had always been more noisy than import- 
 ant, and so on. The unlamented deceased was however 
 full of life the next morning, as he went around tearing 
 down the funeral notices; for in his travels he encountered 
 the supposed author of the published obituar}^, and at once 
 gave him what below Canal street is generally considered an 
 invitation to further fun, to wit: a slap in the face. Whether 
 the slap was accepted as part of the joke or not, we did not 
 hear; all we now have to add is, all is quiet below Canal 
 street. 
 
 GOING TO SEE THE RACE. 
 
 "Are you going to see the race to-day, Smiffles'?" said Von 
 Slatherkins to his friend, yesterday, in his mildest manner. 
 
 "Kace? What race?" 
 
 "The human race," he rej)lied, subduedly. 
 
 "Ah," rejoined Smifi^Ies, "you would not have caught me on 
 that if my head had not been confused by the band that 
 passed up the street awhile ago." 
 
 "Band? What band?" 
 
 "A contraband," rejoined Smiffles 
 corner. 
 
 s he dodged around the 
 
EN ROUTE TO MEXICO 
 
 On Board Sieamer St. Mary, ] 
 January 30, 1866. ] 
 
 Taking a loving, lingering adieu of the Crescent, and shak- 
 ing from my feet the dust of the Crescent city, I this morning 
 embarked on the staunch iron United States transport steam- 
 ship St. Mary, for parts not unknown, but hitherto unseen by 
 me, and of course I must scribble, as I mostly do when I 
 travel. ' 
 
 Leaving St. Mary street wharf at 9 o'clock, the whole fine 
 panorama of New Orleans and its elongated subiu^bs passed 
 quickly m review; causing me to feel, as I have felt before, 
 that no matter how famihar a person may become with the 
 city by Inang and domg within its borders, he is never reaUy 
 impressed with a sense of its greatness until he passes it on 
 the river, either departing upon or returning fi^omta distant 
 voyage. 
 
 The pretty scenery of the coast below the city is a "thrice 
 told tale," therefore I need not dwell upon it. At five o'clock 
 we passed the Balize, and in due time the glorious golden 
 sun and the St. Mary " went down into the sea " simultane- 
 ously. 
 
 What a glorious night it is ! Weather delightful. Sea 
 smooth as the river; briUiant moon near the full; and our 
 sharp prowed steamer cleaving the dark bosom of the GuK 
 and pilmg up the sparkling mountains of soap suds behind^ 
 I sat oil deck and ruminated awhile, in proper poetic mood' 
 then retired to tne lower cabin, where several sets of hardened 
 travelers were amusing themselves with cards, and gTains of 
 corn Winch they caUed chips. This,' together with the scene 
 on deck, mspired me with the following? lines: 
 
 TO MY DARLING. 
 
 Sad was our parting, and my sad heart 
 
 Still sadly sighs for thee, 
 (I'll take three cards, Mr. Dealer,) 
 
 As I glide o'er the moon lit sea. 
 
 And the moon's sweet rays set the sea ablaze 
 
 With a blaze that points to thee, 
 (I straddle— it takes ten to^come in, ) 
 
 As I skim the azure sea. 
 
382 ciiESCEisrT-SHiisrE. 
 
 Perchance, dear love, thou'rt gazing now, 
 
 At this moon that smiles on me, I 
 (Steward, please push the spittoon this way, ) 
 
 As I fly o'er the deep blue sea. 
 
 Sweet zephyrs play o'er our foamy way, 
 
 And they waft my sighs to thee, 
 (I see that and go fifteen better, ) 
 
 As I float o'er the deep blue sea. 
 
 Then weep not dearest — this fond heart 
 
 Still wildly worships thee, 
 (I've got an ace full — the pot's mine!) 
 
 As I ride this glorious sea. 
 
 Good night, sweet love ! I'll now to rest, 
 
 And pray for dreams of thee, 
 (A whiskey toddy for me 'Mx. Barkeeper,) 
 
 As I glide o'er the moonlit sea ! 
 The sea, the sea, the sea — 
 
 As I glide o'er the moonlit sea ! 
 
 Jan. 31. — A glorious day and perfectly magnificent night — 
 sea calm and sweet as the smile of a sleeping infant. Passen- 
 gers read novels, play cards, rush when the steward's bell 
 rings. Some of the ladies yawn, and think they would like 
 the ship to rock a httle. I think I wouldn't like it. 
 
 Feb. 1. — Beached Galveston at 3 J A. M. The one solitary 
 clang of the bell in the engine room (sounding^all through the 
 ship at that hour) aroused me, and I was much pleased with 
 the moonlight Yie^v of the great Texan seapoii}, as we steamed 
 gently up the tortuous channel. The array of shipping and 
 steam craft gave promise of a city behind, and when the ship 
 was safely moored I tumbled back into berth 3, in room Q, with 
 felicitous visions of my morning survey of the city of Gal- 
 veston. 
 
 At 7 A. M. v/ent ashore. Took a cocktail in the first cofiee- 
 house, and a shave in the first barber-shop — an invariable 
 practice of mine upon entering a strange city; for upon the 
 quality of the first drink and the first shave I prognosticate 
 my luck whilst in said strange city. As the drink was excellent 
 and the shave magnum bonum, I thought well of Galveston. 
 
 I vv^ent along the "Strand," and read all the signs, and 
 glanced in at all the stores and shops. I vv^ent to the market 
 house, then to the post-offlce. I loafed about sometime, com- 
 pleted my survey of the city, and whilst in a brown study 
 about Galveston found myself back to the steamship landing, 
 whither I had strayed intuitively. I then set about consider- 
 ing in what my good luck consisted whilst in that city. At 
 
ElSr ROUTE TO MEXICO. 183 
 
 first it was a puzzle; but, upon going aboard tlie ship, I 
 exclaimed Eureka! Said ship was to stay there only an hour 
 or so more. 
 
 I can't help it. There's altogether too much sand and salt- 
 water around there for me, for a city, and too little verdure. 
 If the Galvestonians liked it, it's because they're all driving at 
 something that keeps their minds busy, and they're not much 
 to blame. 
 
 The city was not near so large as I had expected to find it. 
 It has a very respectable front rampart, of commercial brick, 
 a block or so deep ; behind that all is cheap frame work, and 
 sand fetlock deep. It all went to shov/ that the name of a 
 commercial seajport city is more in the mouth of the world 
 than that of any city of five times its size and beauty anywhere 
 in the interior. 
 
 Got away at 11 A. M. Sky hazy, and appearances a little 
 weatherish. Tov/ards evening the ladies were gratified: the 
 ship began to rock. Fine moonlight at night; the waves come 
 bulging vvdth white crests. Not so charming as the night 
 before. I retired without indulging in the usual poetic moon- 
 light ruminations; some others do likewise. 
 
 Feb. 2. — Bright, beautiful morning, and breezy too; the 
 foam-crested waves roll gently around, and the ship moves 
 with a sifting motion, most felt toward the stern, as if she 
 were a belle, putting on coquettish airs over old Neptune 
 down below. I feel very well this morning, though I have no 
 appetite. I don't care about the upper deck. I'll take a cup 
 of coffee at breakfast; for that I have a relish. 
 
 When the breakfast bell rings, I stagger to a se^at at the 
 table, which I notice is not so full as usual. I have, as I 
 have said, no appetite; yet somehow that appetite becomes 
 still less, as I wait for my coffee. Confound that waiter; will 
 he never come with my coffee ? A fellov\^ opposite me cuts 
 open a hot sausage; I catch its savory odor. That's enough. 
 I'm a goner. I feel it coming — ah-boop — but I choke it down. 
 I jump up as if shot, and stagger wildly back to room Q, fol- 
 lowed by a suppressed titter from the hardened wretches at 
 the table, and the ladies. These are northern ladies, used to 
 the sea. 
 
 In what manner, in the privacy of my room, I settled with 
 the toothless old beggar or robber Neptune — toothless, I 
 judge, because he is so greedy after victuals ready chewed — 
 need not be related. Only I would suggest to other lubbers 
 who may propose to expose themselves to the contingencies of 
 a sea-trip, to secure bunks in the lower cabin, where the 
 
184 CRESCENT-SECINE. 
 
 rooms have bulls-eye windows. You can pass all your contri- 
 butions through the bulls-eye, without anybody being the 
 wiser, and then pretend you were not so very sick after all. 
 This cannot be done in the rooms of the upper cabin; there, 
 if you make a mess, the steward is bound to know it and to 
 have his thoughts about it. 
 
 Towards noon, got in sight of land and in lighter v\^ater- 
 Felt better; ate dinner comfortably. In the afternoon, at 4. 
 reached Brazos. As we approached this famous seaport, I 
 gazed at it again and again. And this is Brazos Santiago, is 
 it ? Well ! Carry me back ! Oh, Galveston, thou art a para- 
 dise ! A soldier once being asked w^here Brazos was, he 
 having been there, said he couldn't locate it geographi- 
 cally, but believed it was somewhere about twenty-five miles 
 beyond God's knowledge. I don't think that soldier was 
 much mistaken. But of this, more anon. The St. Mary, after 
 much diSculty in the nai'row channel, lies up to the wharf at 
 last, and I take an affectionate leave of her; but not without 
 having the following in my pocket, ordered for pubhcation: 
 
 At a meeting of I. G. and himself, held on board the steam- 
 ship St. Mary, he was called to the Chair and^ I. G. appointed 
 Secretary; and after an address by the former, the committee, 
 consisting of the latter, reported the following preamble and 
 resolutions; 
 
 Wheeeas, Under Divine i Providence, we are in port again, 
 after our late perilous and frightful voyage from New Orleans, 
 some testimonial of gratitude and esteem is due to the oJSicers 
 of said ship for their skill, coolness and bravery, amid the most 
 appalling danger, be it 
 
 Resolved, That Captain , (we had his name, but threw 
 
 it up and lost it overboard during the gale, ) is a brick : and 
 that we will joyously present him with a set of silverware, if 
 he will pay for it. 
 
 Resolved, That the Purser, Mr. Colby, is a gentleman on 
 wheels. 
 
 Resolved, That these proceedings be published in the New 
 Orleans Crescent, and in any other paper that feels like 
 copying. 
 
 (Signed) I. G. 
 
CORRESPONDENCE FROM THE RIO GRANDE. 
 
 Brownsville, Texas, February 5, 1866. 
 
 In my last I closed -svitli an account of our arrival at Brazos. 
 Before leaving the steamer I asked one of tlie officers il there 
 was a hotel in Brazos. He briefly replied, "sort of a hotel." 
 Upon landing, I hired a United States cavahy to "tote" my 
 baggage to said hotel, and, sure enough, found that it was a 
 " sort of a hotel." Pre-eminent as the only t'wo-story house 
 on the island, it promised well externally, its cupola especially 
 wooing the stranger's better feelings. But it is, ii|ternally, a 
 mere honeycomb of undressed plank, whitewashed, it is true, 
 the rooms having a bottom and four sides each, but no top 
 short of the roof; so that when yau are in jonv room you can- 
 hear everything that is going on in every other room all over 
 the house. The dining, baggage and sitting rooms, and the 
 hotel office, are all one and the same room. The room I slept 
 in contained two cots mth blankets, but not a thing else^ — not 
 even a hook or a nail — and that night I hatl to hang up my 
 clothes on the floor. Table decidedly rough, and charge four 
 dollars a day. I cannot conscientiously recommend the Rover, 
 or Sort-of-a-Hotel, to the traveling public, though it be the 
 best in the city — being the only one. 
 
 Besides the hotel, there is a shop or two, a few warehouses 
 and a blacksmith's shop; these constitute the city of Brazos 
 proper. All the rest is a military encampment of frame bar- 
 racks and tents. There is a brigade of colored troops on the 
 island, and some of these were about to be mustered out. The 
 paymaster arrived there on the same vessel I did, and he was 
 so welcome that the brass band turned out and serenaded him 
 nearly all night. 
 
 Next morning I left the Sortof a Hotel, a,nd took the govern- 
 ment raih'oad to White's Ranche, on the Edo Grande, twelve 
 miles distant. Here, government stores are transferred to 
 steamers for Brownsville. There was a stage for passengers, 
 and this I took. A ride of eighteen miles over a flat and dis- 
 mal countrj', part prairie and part chapparal, here and there 
 skirting the Rio Grande, brought us to the celebrated city of 
 Brownsville, the southwestern jumping-off place of the United 
 States^ I hauled up at the only hotel, Siiller's, where the 
 accommodations are plain and the table good, at thi'ci; dollars 
 a day. Brownsville is a decidedly lively and bustling place; 
 its business center being half shops and the other half whisky- 
 shops, with a government office here and there. Population 
 24 
 
186 
 
 CRESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 decidedly mixed; United States troops, black and white; citi- 
 zens of all complexions and styles of dress; and swarms of 
 peons, or Mexican Indians, who fill all the subordinate places 
 and do all the drudgery and menial w' ork of the town. They 
 are a quiet, patient and leisurely industrious set, and seem to 
 make the most tractable servants in the world. Their settle- 
 ments in the suburbs are novel, and I may describe them 
 hereafter. , 
 
 Yesterday morning I went over into the Empire, to take a 
 look at the city of H. Matamoras. (The initial H., w^hichyou 
 will notice in the papers and advertisements, as it is to be seen 
 also on the signs in that city, stands for Heroic — Heroic Mata- 
 moras — because it has never been captured by any forces since 
 the days of Zack Taylor.) Architecturally, the city disap- 
 pointed me. After seeing the Cathedral, a shabby old aii'aii', 
 fronting the shabby old plaza, and the new theater, there is 
 nothing t-o be seen but numberless blocks of fiat-topped one- 
 story bricks nearly all alike, with a two-story brick here and 
 there, and narrow crumbling side-walks, and the suburban 
 mud-and-stick domicils of the peon population. The city 
 covers much ground, but makes small penetration of the upper 
 atmosphere. 
 
 The day being Sunday, I was present w^hen the Cathedral 
 disgorged its multitude. A few United States ladies dressed 
 a la New Orleans, with cloaks, bonnets and hats, came out. 
 All the rest, lady Mexicans of all shades of color, many ugly 
 and some very beautiful, wore the invariable shawl, passed 
 over the head and ifung gracefully around the waist. Nearly 
 all were cheaply dressed, rich dresses were rare. 
 
 In Matamoras there are but three thousand troops; consist- 
 ing of native infantry, badly dressed and worse drilled; Aus- 
 trian cavalry, in blazing uniforms of red and blue and all 
 other colors; and an independent American or cosmopolitan 
 battalion of cavalry scouts, comfortably but slouchily uniformed 
 and garnished wdtli big spurs and revolvers. These latter are 
 paid sixty dollars per month in specie, or two dollars a day, 
 payable daily, tliey finding or boarding themselves, which they 
 are enabled to do at about twenty dollars per month. This 
 leaves them forty dollars a month clear, and as their specie 
 goes much further in Mexico than it would in the United 
 States, it may be judged that they have a luxurious time of it 
 for private soldiers. 
 
 But of Matamoras and Mexico more hereafter. The present 
 Provost Marshal of Bagdag, is Victor Duprat, formerly of New 
 Orleans. 
 
CORRESFOlSTDElSrCIt: FROIVI THE RIO OR^NDE. 18' 
 
 Brownsville, Texas, February 6, 1866. 
 
 Standing on the banks of the Rio Grande, in front of this 
 town, and looking across and around, all sorts of refreshing 
 ideas are infused into the mind of — a newly-arrived person 
 like myself. Here is a crooked little river, tlaat you can shy 
 an oyster-shell across, separating the two great North Ameri- 
 can institutions known as Mexico and the United States. 
 
 Ropes stretched across the stream are used for the propul- 
 sion of th'e scow, which transfers wheeled vehicles and heavy 
 goods, whilst the constant crowds of foot-passengers take the 
 skiffs at a picajune (not five cents) a head. Picayunes and 
 bits, old Spanish 12 J and 6 J cent pieces, mostly worn as smooth 
 as pieces of tin, constitute the small currency here — partially 
 on this side, where a gi'eenback dollar is worth sixty cents, 
 and wholly on the other side — half-dimes and dimes being 
 good, but used only in the make-up of quarters, or two-bit 
 pieces. Prices are so guaged that every little thing costs a 
 picayune or a bit; but dimes, separately, do not evenly pay for 
 anything. This is a digression upon a small subject, but it 
 may be interesting to some of your readers. 
 
 Communication from the Texas side is unrestricted. Every- 
 thing and everybody passes over at will — if I accept the United 
 States troops. Officers, under permit, go over once in awhile. 
 Coming fi*om the Mexican side, it is different. Everybody and 
 everything must have a pass. Americans — here it bothers me 
 to use this word in its common sense, for Mexicans are Ameri- 
 cans as well as we— or United Statesers, have to get their 
 passes from the United States Commercial Agent, (there being 
 no recognized Consul, ) twenty-five cents each for the same, 
 then have them countersigned by General Meija's Provost 
 Marshal. All goods and packages have to pass a regular cus- 
 tomhouse inspection, 
 
 Here are United' States steamboats of different sizes and 
 shapes (ail in govern :3ent service), running down the river to 
 "White's Ranche, or around to Brazos, never touching on the 
 Mexican side, onW to wood. On the other side are Mexican 
 steamers which -^rh from Matamoros to Bagdag, at the mouth 
 of the river, bipt net%, under any circumstances, touch on the 
 Texas side, owing tc- customhouse restrictions. The Rio Grande 
 is narrow, and '?^<^re are said to be some people around the two 
 cities rather fond of smuggling than otherwise. 
 
 Matamoras and Brownsville do not face each other on the 
 river, as their much talked-of propinquit}^ leads many people 
 to suppose. The river makes a horse-shoe bend, opposite the 
 
188 CRESCi^NT-siiiiisrii:. 
 
 head of wliioli stands Brownsville, close on the river bank. 
 Matamoras stands on the neck of the peninsula formed by this 
 bend, without being close to the river on either side; and from 
 the ferry-landing opposite Brow^nsville, it is a good mile to the 
 nearest outskirts of Matamoras. This mile is a means of sub- 
 sisfence to a horde of peon hack or cab-drivers, who carry you 
 in dilapidated vehicles with superannuated horses and mules, 
 from the ferry to the city, for a bit, or twelve and a half cents. 
 
 But there being no high ground or timber (there is nothing 
 in this region you can call timber) between the two cities, they 
 are very distinctly visible to each other. And so they quietly 
 stand, yet civilly glaring at each other — one as the fiekl-glass 
 of Imperial Mexicd, the other as the telescope of the Repubh- 
 can United Staets. 
 
 Each is a military headquarters for its own country, to which 
 all the eyes oi each country are at present turned. Day after 
 day each hears the other's reveille and tattoo, and the general 
 sounding of horns and drums at other times. To reflect upon 
 this, it seems novel or odd; it is still more so when you leave 
 Brownsville, its streets teeming with United States troops, 
 gaily dressed officers, flags, and aU the "pomp and circum- 
 stance of glorious war," or readiness for war, and then in a few 
 minutes haul up at the Pla^a in Matamoras, where you are in 
 the midst of another scene of hke mihtary animation, but one 
 so very foreign in aspect to that of Brownsville — Austrian cav- 
 alry, Mexican infantry, and slashing " Contra-Guerrilla," or 
 men of all countries, principally those countries compris- 
 ing the Southern portion of the United States — their vari- 
 ous uniforms challenging the rainbow in the brilliancy and 
 variety of their hues, and the various cuts and styles of said 
 uniforms suggesting a dream of all the military tailors of the 
 last thousand years. 
 
 Standing on the banks of the Rio Grande^^ little things strike 
 the eye as well as big ones, and afford abundance of food to 
 the ruminative mind. It is here, for a Cv^iall matter, that you 
 may see the peon, a Mexican Indian, in his noblest aspect — 
 that of honesty and ill-paid industry. I all^\de to the water- 
 carriers. Brownsville is supplied with its r -rjfier entirely from 
 the river. Here and there some proud -p^ son keeps a cistern, 
 and catches a little rain when it comes alol^g; but Brownsville 
 drinks and cooks and washes out of the Rio^^j-ande, and the 
 peons supply the water. Each peon has his iron-bound bar- 
 rel or cask, with axles or hubs rigged up at the ends, to which 
 he attaches the ends of his light rope or trace chain, and, 
 placing himself vvdthin the latter, hauls the barrel a la mule to 
 
CORRESPONDENCE FROM! THE RIO GRANDE. 199 
 
 its destination. At all hours of the day you see these fellows 
 dragging their baiTels all over town. At the river where the 
 bank is iiigh and the road steep, they help each other with 
 their barrels up hill, and then each takes his way. 
 
 One exception to this rule afforded me some entertainment. 
 A stout looking fellow rolled his barrel — no, it was not a barrel, 
 but something fully the size of a rice or bacon cask, and iron- 
 bound like all the rest — down the hill, and kicked it with his 
 bare foot ^nto the water. He then rolled up his big-legged 
 cotton pants to the vicinity of his hii)S^ shook the ashes from 
 his cigarette, walked out and seized the cask, held it in the 
 edge of the current, and revolved it rapidly a Httle while, there 
 being two open bung-holes in one end, one to let water in and 
 the other air out. Next he artistically bore upon the cask 
 until it got heavy and begun to sink; soon it was full; then he 
 placed it on end with the bung end up, and drawing from his 
 pockets two wooden plugs, hammered them into the holes 
 with a stone. Rolling the cask out of the water, he rested a 
 while, calmly surveying the hill he had to mount. His hauling 
 gear was gracefully coiled around his neck; his cigarette at 
 this juncture exj)ired. Then he went to work, shouldering the 
 cask up the hill; real honest work I saw it was; planting his 
 heel deep in the dirt, and pushing with his head and shoulder, 
 till the muscles of his well-shaped brown legs stood out as if 
 ready to burst the skin. He vvent only three or four feet at a 
 time, at each halt tui'ning the cask lengthwise with the road, 
 and still holding to it to take a short rest. So he worked for 
 about half an hour, when he reached the top. Then he took a 
 good rest, seated on his cask; looked all around and saw or 
 seemed to see that the country was safe; drew forth another 
 cigarette, and lit it from that of another peon; uncoiled his 
 gear from about his neck; adjusted it to the cask, and then 
 himself to it, with all the deliberation and nicety of a dandy 
 putting on his neck-tie for a fancy ball; and finally started 
 slowly off up town, whiffing away at his cigarette, and the 
 weight of his cask causing his body to incline forward at an 
 angle of about forty-five degrees. This man is an aristocrat 
 among the water-haulers. He gets two bits a load for his 
 w^ater, whilst the others get only one bit. 
 
 Should it puzzle you to know how these peons can work so 
 hard for so little compensation, go and look at their residences 
 in the suburbs, and the thing is about explained. Their inge- 
 nuity in constructing houses out of brushwood, reeds, mud 
 and grass, is something exclusively their own. They have their 
 houses, outhouses, fences, and everything, laid off squarely and 
 
190 crescen-t-shitntil:. 
 
 neatly, and,^to'them, comfortably. Yet, upon no man's prem- 
 ises, or in any of his ^buildings, will J you find a piece of wood 
 thicker than your wrist, or a piece of straight wood that is 
 straight for more than six inches. Each house consists of one 
 room, with a door in front and a door behind, no windows, 
 and mother earth for floor. In this room the whole family, 
 and sometimes several famiHes, stow themselves away and live 
 in apparent content. I fear I wouldn't rehsh that style of 
 living; but if it suits the peons, it's nobusiness of mihe. 
 
 Standing on the banks of the Eio Grande — but hold ! I 
 beheve I have used this expression twice already in this letter. 
 Besides, this letter is long enough. Furthermore, I am at this 
 writing seated in^my room at Miller's Hotel — our room, I ought 
 to say, for I have a room-mate. He is a Senor Ramon Gon- 
 zales Jesus De Somebody, or some name sounding like that, a 
 Mexican, from the other side, but a better looking or more 
 gentlemanly man, or a politer man to be thrown in with for a 
 room-mate, I never met in ail my travels. He sleeps — so will 
 I. Good night. 
 
 Matamoeas, Mexico, Feb. 21, 1866. 
 
 I while away an idle hour in mentioning some points of- dif- 
 ference between this Mexican town and towns or cities of 
 similar size in the United States, which may interest some of 
 youi' readers. 
 
 In the first place, Matamoras is so thoroughly brick, and the 
 houses so flat and low, that neither earthquakes nor sieges can 
 do it any damage to speak of. 
 
 The scarcity and value of lumber is everywhere apparent. 
 With few exceptions, the houses are floored v^^ith brick. I have 
 not seen a plank ground floor jei. Fences, in many places, 
 are made of barrel staves and broken-up packing boxes. 
 Many of the peon shanties are built of the same material, 
 daubed over with mud. 
 
 The quantity of empty bottles is perfectly marvelous. Every 
 other back yard seems to have a wagon-load, more or less, 
 piled up or lying round loose. In some places are neat-look- 
 ing patches of pavement, made of stone Scotch ale bottles, 
 stuck down closely, bottom up. 
 
 None of the houses in the city are numbered; but every 
 place of business has a little corporation sign over the door, 
 stating the kind of business and the number of the license. 
 
CORRKSPONDENCEF ROM THE RIO G-RANDE. 191 
 
 With these little signs most are content. The larger groceries 
 have fancy names, like coffee-houses in American cities. 
 
 The streets are not paved, (save the narrow sidewalks,) and 
 the frequent sweeping and scraping up of the dust and mud 
 has worn many of them into troughs or hollows, so that in 
 some places it is difficult for vehicles to pass each other. 
 
 The largest trees are the china-berries, and not many of 
 them. A squatty date palm raises its head here and there. 
 The gardens appear to be luxuriant. 
 
 The poHce are a gay-looking set, with their broad hats, 
 ribbon badges, and JDclts and revolvers. Every half hour 
 during the night they blow whistles, and call the hour in 
 monotonous Spanish. 
 
 The city is alive with rats, and eaten up with fleas. The 
 number of rats is altogether astonishing; at night the yards 
 and streets literally swarm vdth them. 
 
 Steep roofs and chimneys are nowhere to be seen. There 
 ai'e no fire-places but in the kitchen; and during the cold 
 spells, those who need it, warm their rooms with charcoal 
 or coals from the kitchen fire, put in the centre of the brick 
 floor. 
 
 Ladies are seldom seen on the streets, except when going 
 to church. But passing their residences, you may look inside 
 through the iron grating or cages covering the open windows, 
 and see them at home, and what they are doing, as much as 
 you wish. None but foreign ladies wear hats or bonnets. 
 The Mexican feminines invariably wear shawls over the head. 
 
 Though a quiet town in other respects, Matamoras, musi- 
 cally considered, is rather noisy. Between the cathedral bells, 
 Mexican trumpets, Austrian bugles, jackdaws, jackasses and 
 organ grinders, the air is mellifluously laden at all hours of 
 the day. Chickens are very abundant, and the daylight crow- 
 ing of roosters is a chorus such as, of its kind, I never heard 
 elsewhere. 
 
 The Mexican troops are reviewed every Sunday morning, on 
 the Plaza, in front of the cathedral. The uniform is dark blue, 
 faced with red, and caps covered with havelocks. It is a 
 pretty sight, at one stage of the ceremonies, to see the whole 
 four or five regiments throw their caps on the grass, order 
 arms, and drop on one knee with the head bowed, and to 
 remain whilst a sort of military mass is performed on the steps 
 of the cathedral. 
 
 Each Mexican regiment has a band consisting of about a 
 dozen brass drums and fifteen or twenty horns, no other 
 instruments being used. The music is deafening close by, but 
 
192 CRESCENT-SHINE. 
 
 sounds well at a distance. When all the bands let loose at 
 the breaking up of a review the clamor and discord is per- 
 fectly terrific. I may mention that this Mexican infantry go 
 through all their drill by bugle call. 
 
 Matamoras, like BrownsviUe, gets its water from the Rio 
 Grande, rolled up in barrels by peons. A few opulent persons 
 have cisterns, in which they catch rain when it comes. 
 
 The streets at night are lighted by petroleum lamps, sup- 
 ported on iron arms projecting from the buildings. Many 
 parts of New Orleans, lighted by gas, are not near as well 
 lighted as these streets are by petroleum oil. 
 
 The drinking saloons and other loafing resorts are closed at 
 half-past nine o'clock each night. At ten o'clock, few other 
 persons than the police qare to be met on the streets. 
 
TA.BLE: OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Crescent Carrier to his Patrons 9 
 
 Skylarking 11 
 
 Omnibusiana' 17 
 
 Extraordinary Gem of Literature and Art 21 
 
 A Belligerent Frenchman 22 
 
 Hotel Keeping in Kackensack 24 
 
 Piety of Texas 26 
 
 Oad tu the Comick 27 
 
 A Printers' Strike .28 
 
 Hard Old Woman 30 
 
 Poor Little Girl 31 
 
 Fly-time Amusements. 33 
 
 A Leander 36 
 
 The Bakers' Hop •. 38 
 
 Strange Ghosts in the Haunted House 39 
 
 The Fireman 41 
 
 How Texas Lost his "Watch 42 
 
 A Good Joke 45 
 
 Freaks of the Fog 46 
 
 Execution of Mathew Hughes 48 
 
 Jules Dreux Escape 54 
 
 The Two Omars 56 
 
 Married to the Wrong Woman 59 
 
 Disunion of Exchange Alley 61 
 
 True Love 63 
 
 Oh ! Wasn't She an Angel, Though ? 64 
 
 Turning the Tables on a Mean Landlord 65 
 
 Well Hoaxed 66 
 
 Alligator vs. Dog 71 
 
 Let's Keep the Leaf Clean 72 
 
 A Milesian Komance 1 73 
 
 The Chevalier Hutchinson 75 
 
 Death of Archbishop Blanc 79 
 
 Flattering Compliment 80 
 
 Terrific Affair 82 
 
 A Nigger Girl Playing Ghost. 83 
 
 The New Type.,. ., 85 
 
 Double-Ender Coffeeliouses 87 
 
 Oh, my ! Both Married 89 
 
 The Stove Controversy . 91 
 
 Our Picture Gallery _ . 93 
 
 Which was Eight ? .'95 
 
 The Great Duck Case ..97 
 
 Tit for Tat 100 
 
 The Daylight Star Gazers 101 
 
 Death of Lieut. Col. Dreux 102 
 
 The Camp at Columbus 103 
 
 Island Number Ten.. .110 
 
 Our Prize Novelette. 111 
 
 A Valentine for the Times 117 
 
 Charley Dreux and Bob Alexander . . . 118 
 
 25 
 
194 T^BLE OF COlSTTETsTTS. 
 
 One of the B'hoys 120 
 
 Sensible Old Darkey 122 
 
 "Out of Sorts." 123 
 
 The Old Man is Going 126 
 
 The Old Man is Gone 127 
 
 Summer Night Amusements 128 
 
 Married and Unmarried 129 
 
 Both Scared .130 
 
 Pictures Wanted 131 
 
 Sweet Game 132 
 
 Specks of War 132 
 
 A Practical Joke 136 
 
 Oad to the Yung Amerriker 137 
 
 Boxiana vs. Law 139 
 
 Another Good 'Un on the ' ' Beast. " 144 
 
 Terrific but Happy Incident 144 
 
 Eegular Old Odd Fellows 145 
 
 A Fancy Scene at the Oaks : . 147 
 
 Chawing Chawk 148 
 
 Christmas Day in New Orleans . 149 
 
 Stealings of the Poets 152 
 
 Confederate Classics 156 
 
 Such is Life . 158 
 
 A Fifty Dollar Kepartee 159 
 
 A Morsel for the Ladies 160. 
 
 Morsel for Sportsmen 161 
 
 One way of Getting a Wife 162 
 
 Maybe You Doubt It 165 
 
 ' ' How D'ye Do ?" " 166 
 
 High Cheek Bone 167 
 
 Getting Ready for the Next War 168 
 
 The Course of True Love, Etc 169 
 
 Telescope Man Back Again 171 
 
 Telegraphic 172 
 
 A Serious Piece of Business 173 
 
 Hibernian vs. Iberian •. — 174 
 
 A Reminiscence of Old Times 175 
 
 Historical Information .176 
 
 Poor Little Babt - ---177 
 
 Origin of Familiar Words , - 177 
 
 Petition to an Actress 178 
 
 Long and Short Months- - 179 
 
 Chemical Snakes - - 179 
 
 Practical Joke - 180 
 
 Going to see the Race ^ 180 
 
 En route to Mexico - 181 
 
 Correspondence from the Rio Grande - 185 to 192 
 
 W13 
 
"^..*" 
 
 \./ /Jte'- %.^^ .'^&', \/ .*^^: % ^' ' 
 
 /% ^ 
 
 
 
 '=^. 
 
 
 ° ^^'% 
 
 ^^> 
 
 ^ o Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
 
 Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date; Sept. 2009 
 
 A %. •-f. .*' -0^ 'V"*?57f*\<v PreservationTechnologies ' 
 
 ► •«-'•<• '*<^ Cr ft""** *^ AT . * '^OR'-D LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION '' 
 
 ♦ ' y^xJ** "W C •IsS^^VwV ^ ^ ♦ 111 Thomson Park Drive Jjk^ 
 
 *Jl:(ll/^^'^ "^^ 4 ^'' '^^Mn%*i» <>* A*^ ""^ Cranberry Township, PA 16066 Ui\ 
 
 •J^r^W^* ^ '^'^n^S* ^^ •! (724)779-2111 g 
 
^ %/ y^ 
 
 
 
 -'aC-* V'^^'A* %*-.<^.^.g** \*?^''V* 
 
 
 ^^'- % ^^ ^k