The Humors of Falconbridge

"I was thinking, Joel," continued the good woman, "to-morrow we shall, God permitting, be with our children and friends once again, together."

"I hope so, I trust we shall," answered the husband.

"And I was thinking, Joel," resumed the wife, "that the exclusion of our own child, Cecelia, from the family re-unions, from joining us in returning thanks to God for his mercy and preservation of us, is cruel and offensive to Him we deign to render up our prayers."

"Rebecca," said the old gentleman, "I but agree with you in this, you have but anticipated my feelings in the matter. I have long fought against my better feelings and offended a discriminating God, I know. Ashamed to confess my stubbornness and frailty before, I now freely confess an altered feeling and better determination."

"Then, Joel, let our daughter Cecelia and her husband join with us to-morrow in rendering our thanks to a just God and kind Providence."

"Be it so, Rebecca. God truly knows it will be a millstone relieved from my heart. I wish it done."

Three family re-unions, three days of Thanksgiving had been held in the paternal mansion of the Newschools, since Cecelia had left it for the humble home of the poor artizan. But their several re-unions were clouded, gloomy, unsocial affairs; there was a gap in the social circle of the Newschool family, as they met on Thanksgiving day, which all felt, but none hinted at. It was hard for a parent to invoke blessings on a portion, but not all, of his own flesh and blood; it was hard to return thanks for those dear ones present, and wonder whether the absent and equally dear had aught to be thankful for, whether instead of health and comfort, they might not be sorrowing in disease, poverty, and despair! Such things as these, when they obtrude upon the mind, the soul, are not likely to make merry meetings. And such was the position and nature of the re-union upon the late Thanksgiving days, at the Newschool mansion. But better feelings were at work, and a happy change was at hand.

Several carriages had already drove up to the door of Mr. Newschool, Sen., and let down the different branches of the Newschool family. A brighter appearance seemed gathering over the household than was usual of late on Thanksgiving day, in the old family mansion. As each party came, the good old mother duly informed them of the invitation given, and the hope indulged in, that Cecelia and her husband would join the family circle that day, in their re-union.

The proud sisters seemed willing, at last, to cast away their pride, and greet their sister as became Christian and sensible women. The brothers, chagrined at the unmanliness of their conduct, now gladly joined their approval of what betokened, in fact, a happy family meeting. As the clock on old South Church tower pealed out eleven, a pretty, smiling young mother, in plain, but unexceptionable, neat attire, ascended the large stone steps of the Newschool mansion, with a light and graceful step, bearing a sleeping child in her arms.

Another moment, and Cecelia Fairway was in the arms of her old mother; the smiles, kisses and tears of the whole family party were bountifully showered upon poor Cecelia, and her sweet little daughter. Imagination may always better paint such a scene, than could the feeble pen describe it. The deep and gushing eloquence of human nature, when thus long pent, bursts forth, sweeping the meagre devises of the pen before it, like snow-flakes before the mighty mountain avalanche.

Oh! it was a happy sight, to see that party at their Thanksgiving dinner.

Old Mr. Newschool, in his long and fervent prayer to the throne of grace, expressed the day the happiest one of his long life. Quickly flew the hours by, and as the shades of evening gathered around, Francis Fairway was announced with a carriage for his wife's return home. Francis Fairway, the artizan, was a proud, high-minded man, conscious of his own position and merits, and scorned any base means to conciliate the favor and patronage of his superiors in rank, birth, or education. His deportment to the Newschool family was frank and manly; and they met it with a sense of just appreciation and dignity, that did them honor. Francis met a generous welcome, and the evening of Thanksgiving day was spent in a happy re-union indeed. Upon Cecelia's and her husband's return home, she found a small note thrust in the bosom of her child, bearing this inscription —

"Grandfather's Re-union gift to little Cecelia; Boston, Nov., 184-."

The note contained five $1000 bills on the old Granite Bank of Boston, and which were duly placed in the old Bank fire-proof, to the account of the little heir, the enterprise of the artizan having placed him above the necessity of otherwise disposing of Joel Newschool's gift to the grandchild.

Cabbage vs. Men

Theodore Parker says, the cultivation of man is as noble and praiseworthy a science, as the cultivation of cabbage, or the garden sass! Says brother Theodore, "You don't cast garden-seed in the mire, over the rough broken ground, and exhibit your benefits. No, you dig, level, rake, and then sow your seed, you give them sunshine and water, you tear out the weeds that would choke your infant vegetables – why would you do less for the material man?" Pre-cisely! we pause for an answer, proposals received from the learned – until we go to press.

Wanted – A Young Man from the Country

All of our mercantile cities are overrun with young men who have been bred for the counter or desk, and thousands of these genteel young gents find it any thing but an easy matter to find bread or situations half their time, in these crowded marts of men and merchandise. An advertisement in a New York or New Orleans paper, for a clerk or salesman, rarely fails to "turn up" a hundred needy and greedy applicants, in the course of a morning! In New York, where a vast number of these misguided young men are "manufactured," and continue to be manufactured by the regiment, for an already surfeited market, there are wretches who practise upon these innocent victims of perverted usefulness, a species of fraud but slightly understood.

By a confederacy with some experienced dry goods dealer, the proprietor of one of those agencies for procuring situations for young men, victims of misplaced confidence are put through at five to ten dollars each, somewhat after this fashion: Sharp, the keeper of the Agency, advertises for two good clerks, one book-keeper, five salesmen, ten waiters, &c., &c.; and, of course, as every steamboat, car and stage, running into New York, brings in a fresh importation of young men from the country, all fitted out in the knowledge box for salesmen, book-keepers and clerk-ships, – every morning, a new set are offered to be taken in and done for. Sharp demands a fee of five or ten dollars for obtaining a situation; victim forks over the amount, and is sent to Sharp number two, who keeps the dry goods shop; he has got through with a victim of yesterday, and is now ready for the fresh victim of to-day; for he makes it a point to put them through such a gamut of labor, vexatious manœuvres and insolence, that not one out of fifty come back next day, and if they do —he don't want them! If the unsuspecting victim returns to the "Agency," he is lectured roundly for his incapacity or want of energy!– and advised to return to the country and recuperate.

Jeremiah Bumps having graduated with all the honors of Sniffensville Academy, and having many unmistakable longings for becoming a Merchant Prince, and seeing sights in a city; and having read an account of the great fortunes piled up in course of a few years, by poor, friendless country boys, like Abbot Lawrence, John Jacob Astor, he up and came right straight to Boston, having read it in the papers that clerks, salesmen, book-keepers, and so on, were wanted, dreadfully – "young men from the country preferred" – so he called on the suffering agent for the public, and paying down his fee, was sent off to an Importing House, on – street, where a clerk and salesman were wanted. Jeremiah found his idea of an Importing House knocked into a disarranged chapeau, by finding the one in the "present case," a large and luminous store, filled up with paper boxes and sham bundles; while gaudily festooned, were any quantity of calicoes, cheap shawls, ribbons, tapes, and innumerable other tuppenny affairs.

Nebuchadnezzar Cheatum, the proprietor of this importing and jobbing house, was a keen, little, slick-as-a-whistle, heavy-bearded, shaved and starched genus, of six-and-thirty, more or less; and received Jeremiah with a rather patronizing survey personelle, and opened the engagement with a few remarks.

"From the country, are you?"

"Sniffensville, sir," said Jeremiah; "County of Scrub-oak, State of New Hampshire."

"Ah, well, I prefer country-bred young men; they are better trained," said Cheatum, "to industry, perseverance, honest frugality, and the duties of a Christian man. I was brought up in the country myself. I've made myself; carved out, and built up my own position, sir. Yes, sir, give me good, sound, country-bred young men; I've tried them, I know what they are," said Cheatum; and he spoke near enough the truth to be partly true, for he had "tried them;" he averaged some fifty-two clerks and an equal number of salesmen– yearly.

Jeremiah Bumps grew red in the face at the complimentary manner in which Nebuchadnezzar Cheatum was pleased to review the country and its institutions.

"What salary did you think of allowing?" says Jeremiah.

"Well," said Cheatum, "I allow my salesmen three dollars a week the first year, (Jeremiah's ears cocked up,) and three per cent. on the sales they make the second year."

By cyphering it up "in his head," Jeremiah came to the conclusion that the first year wouldn't add much to his pecuniary elevation, whatever the second did with its three per cents. But he was bound to try it on, anyhow.

"Now," said Cheatum, "in the first place, Solomon – "

"Jeremiah, if you please, sir," said the young man.

"Ah, yes, Thomas —pshaw!– Jediah, I would say," continued Cheatum, correcting himself —

"Jeremiah – Jeremiah Bumps, sir," sharply echoed Mr. Bumps.

"Oh, yes, yes; one has so many clerks and salesmen in course of business," said Cheatum, "that I get their names confused. Well, Jeremiah, in the first place, you must learn to please the customers; you must always be lively and spry, and never give an offensive answer. Many women and girls come in to price and overhaul things, without the remotest idea of buying anything, and it's often trying to one's patience; but you must wait on them, for there is no possible means of telling a woman who shops for pastime, from one who shops in earnest; so you must be careful, be polite, be lively and spry, and never let a person go without making a purchase, if you can possibly help it. If a person asks for an article we have not got, endeavor to make them try something else. If a woman asks whether four-penny calico, or six-penny delaines will wash, say 'yes, ma'am, beautifully; I've tried them, or seen them tried;' and if they say, 'are these ten cent flannels real Shaker flannels? or the ninepence hose all merino?' better not contradict them; say 'yes, ma'am, I've tried them, seen them tried, know they are,' or similar appropriate answers to the various questions that may be asked," said Cheatum.

"Yes, sir," Jeremiah responded, "I understand."

"And, William – "

"Jeremiah, sir, if you please."

"Oh, yes; well, Jediah – Jeremiah, I would say – when you make change, never take a ten cent piece and two cents for a shilling, but give it as often as practicable; look out for the fractions in adding up, and beware of crossed six-pences, smooth shillings, and what are called Bungtown coppers," said Cheatum, with much emphasis.

"I'm pooty well posted up, sir, in all that," said Jeremiah.

"And, Jeems – pshaw! – Jacob – Jeremiah! I would say, in measuring, always put your thumb so, and when you move the yardstick forward, shove your thumb an inch or so back; in measuring close you may manage to squeeze out five yards from four and three-quarters, you understand? And always be watchful that some of those nimble, light-fingered folks don't slip a roll of ribbon, or a pair of gloves or hose, or a piece of goods, up their sleeves, in their bosoms, pockets, or under their shawls. Be careful, Henry – Jeems, I should say," said Cheatum.

Being duly rehearsed, Jeremiah Bumps went to work. The first customer he had was a little girl, who bought a yard of ribbon for ninepence, and Jeremiah not only stretched seven-eighths of a yard into a full yard, but made twelve cents go for a ninepence, which feat brought down the vials of wrath of the child's mother, a burly old Scotch woman, who "tongue-lashed" poor Jeremiah awfully! His next adventure was the sale of a dress pattern of sixpenny de-laine, which he warranted to contain all the perfections known to the best article, and in dashing his vigorous scissors through the fabric, he caught them in the folds of a dozen silk handkerchiefs on the counter, and ripped them all into slitters! The young woman who took the dress pattern, upon reaching home, found it contained but eight yards, when she paid for nine. She came back, and Jeremiah Bumps got another bombasting! He sold fourpenny calico, and warranted it to wash; next day it came back, and an old lady with it; the colors and starch were all out, by dipping it in water, and the woman went on so that Cheatum was glad to refund her money to get rid of her. Two dashing young ladies, out "shopping" for their own diversions, gave Jeremiah a call; he labored hand and tongue, he hauled down and exhibited Cheatum's entire stock; the girls then were leaving, saying they would "call again," and Jeremiah very amiably said, "do, ladies, do; call again, like to secure your custom!" The young ladies took this as an insult. Their big brothers waited on Mr. Bumps, and nothing short of his humble apologies saved him from enraged cowhides! Jeremiah saw a suspicious woman enter the store, and after overhauling a box of gloves, he thought he saw her pocket a pair. He intercepted the lady as she was going out – he grabbed her by the pocket – the lady resisted – Jeremiah held on – the lady fainted, and Jeremiah Bumps nearly tore her dress off in pulling out the gloves! The lady proved to be the wife of a distinguished citizen, and the gloves purchased at another store! A lawsuit followed, and Mr. Bumps was fined $100, and sent to the House of Correction for sixty days.

How many new clerks Nebuchadnezzar Cheatum has put through since, we know not; but Jeremiah Bumps is now engaged in the practical science of agriculture, and shudders at the idea of a young man from the country being wanted in a dry goods shop, if they have got to see the elephant that he observed – in Boston.

Presence of Mind

Mr. Davenport – the "Ned Davenport" of the Bowery boys – before sailing for Europe and while attached to the Bowery Theatre, was of the lean and hungry kind. In fact he was extremely lean – tall as a may-pole, and slender enough to crawl through a greased fleute, – to use a yankeeism.

Somebody "up" for Shylock one night, at the Bowery, was suddenly "indisposed" or, in the strongest probability, quite stupefied from the effect of the deadly poisons retailed in the numerous groggeries that really swarm near the Gotham play-houses. Well, Mr. Davenport – a gentleman who has reached a most honorable position in his profession by sobriety and talent – was substituted for the indisposed Shylock, and the play went on.

In the trial scene, Mr. Davenport really "took down the house" by his vehemence, and his ferocious, lean, and hungry aspirations for the pound of flesh! One of the b'hoys, so identical with the B'ow'ry pit, got quite worked up; he twisted and squirmed, he chewed his cud, he stroked his "soap-lock," but, finally, wrought up to great presence of mind, – our lean Shylock still calling for his pound of flesh, – roars out; —

"S'ay, look a' here, —why don't you give skinny de meat, don't you see he wants it, sa-a-a-y!"

We very naturally infer that "the piece" went off with a rush!

The Skipper's Schooner

No better specimen of the genus, genuine Yankee nation, can be found, imagined or described, than the skippers of along shore, from Connecticut river to Eastport, Maine. These critters give full scope to the Hills and Hacketts of the stage, and the Sam Slicks and Falconbridges of the press, to embody and sketch out in the broadest possible dialect of Yankee land. One of these "tarnal critters," it is my purpose to draw on for my brief sketch, and I wish my readers to do me the credit to believe that for little or no portion of my yarn or language am I indebted to fertility of imagination, as the incidents are real, and quite graphic enough to give piquancy to the subject.

Last spring, just after the breaking up of winter, a down-east smack or schooner, freighted with cod-fish and potatoes, I believe, rounded off Cape Ann light, and owing to head winds, or some other perversity of a nautical nature, could no further go; so the skipper and his crew – one man, green as catnip – made for an anchorage, and hove the "hull consarn" to. Here they lay, and tossed and chafed, at their moorings, for a day or two, without the slightest indication on the part of the weather to abate the nuisance. So the commander of the schooner got in his little "dug-out," and giving the aforesaid crew special injunctions to keep all fast, he pulled off to shore to take a look around.

Now, it so fell out that in the course of a few hours' time after the departure of the skipper, a snorting east wind sprang up, and not only blew great guns, but chopped up a short, heavy sea, perfectly astonishing and alarming to Hezekiah Perkins, in the rolling and pitching schooner. It was Hez's first attempt at seafaring; and this sort of reeling and waltzing about, as a matter of course, soon discomboberated his bean basket, and set his head in a whirl and dancing motion – better conceived by those who have seen the sea elephant than described. Hez got dea-a-athly sick, so sick he could not budge from the stern sheets, where he had taken a squat in the early commencement of his difficulties. In the mean time, the skipper came down to the beach and hailed the victim:

"Hel-lo! hel-lo!"

Hez feebly elevated his optics, and looking to the windward, where stood his noble captain, he made an effort to say over something:

"Wha-a-t ye-e-e want?"

"What do I want? Why, yeou pesky critter, yeou, go for'ard thar and hist the jib, take up the anchor, put your helm a-lee, and beat up to town!"

This was all very well, provided the skipper was there to superintend, manage and carry out his voluble orders; but as the surf prevented him from coming on board, and the lightness of Hez's head militated against the almost superhuman possibility of carrying out the skipper's orders, things remained in statu quo, the skipper ashore, and Hez fervently wishing he was too.

"Ain't you a-going to stir round there, and save the vessel?" bawled the excited captain.

"How on airth," groaned the horror-stricken mariner, "how on airth am I to help it?"

"Wall, by Columbus, she'll go clean ashore, or blow eout to sea afore long, sure as death!" responded the skipper; and before he had fairly concluded his augury, sure enough, the halser parted, the schooner slew round and made a bee-line for Cowes and a market! This rather brought Hezekiah to his oats – he riz, tottering and feeble, on his shaky pins, and crawled forward to get up the jib.

"O ye-s, now yeou're coming about it, yes, yeou be," bawled the almost frantic skipper, as the distance between him and his vessel was increasing. "Put her abeout and head her up the ba-a-y!" But it was no kind of use in talking, for Hezekiah could not raise the jib; and his imperfect nautical knowledge, under such a snarl, completely bewildered and disgusted him with the prospect. So saying over the seven commandments and other serious lessons of youth, Hezekiah resigned himself to the tumultuous elements, and concluded it philosophical and scriptural resignation to let Providence and the old schooner fix out the programme just as they might. It is commonly reported, that our mackerel catchers, when a storm or gale overtakes them on the briny deep, lash all fast and go below, turn in and let their smacks rip along to the best of their knowledge and ability. They seldom founder or get severely scathed; and these facts, or perfect indifference, having entered the head of Hezekiah Perkins, he became perfectly unconcerned as to future developments. Night coming on, the skipper saw his schooner fast departing out to sea, and when she was no longer to be seen, he made tracks for Boston, to report the melancholy facts to the owners of the vessel and cargo, and see about the insurance.

Next morning, the skipper having discovered that the insurance was safe, he found himself in better spirits; so he walked down along the wharves, to take a look out upon the bay and shipping – when lo, and behold, he sees a vessel so amazingly like his Two Pollies, that he could not refrain from exclaiming:

"Hurrah! hurrah! By Christopher Columbus – if thar don't come my old beauty and Hez Perkins, too – hurrah!"

The overjoyed skipper went off into a double hornpipe on a single string; and as the veritable schooner came booming saucily up the bay before a spanking breeze, with her jib spread, the skipper called out in a voice of thunder and gladness:

"Hel-lo! Hez Perkins, is that yeou?"

"Hel-lo! Cap'n, I'm coming, by pumpkins! Clear the track for the Two Pollies!" And putting her head in among the smacks of Long Wharf, Hez let her rip and smash chock up fast and tight. When the captain landed on his own deck, he rushed into the arms of his brave mate Hezekiah, and they had a regular fraternal hug all round – and Hezekiah Perkins, in behalf of his wonderful skill, perseverance and luck, was unanimously voted first mate of the Two Pollies on the spot. It appeared that a change of wind during the night had driven the wandering vessel back into the bay, and Hezekiah, having got over his sick spell by daylight, crawled forward, got up the jib, and actually made the wharf, as we have described.

Philosophy of the Times

The philosophy of the present age is peculiarly the philosophy of outsides. Few dive deeper into the human breast than the bosom of the shirt. Who could doubt the heart that beats beneath a cambric front? or who imagine that hand accustomed to dirty work which is enveloped in white kid? What Prometheus was to the physical, the tailor is to the moral man – the one made human beings out of clay, the other cuts characters out of broadcloth. Gentility is, with us, a thing of the goose and shears.

The Emperor and the Poor Author

"The pen is mightier than the sword."

Great men are not the less liable or addicted to very small, and very mean, and sometimes very rascally acts, but they are always fortunate in having any amount of panegyric graven on marble slabs, shafts and pillars, o'er their dust, and eulogistic and profound histories written in memories of the deeds of renown and glory they have executed. An American 74-gun ship would hardly float the mountains of tomes written upon Bonaparte and his brilliant career, as a soldier and a conqueror; but how precious few, insignificant pages do we ever see of the misdeeds, tyrannies and acts of petty and contemptuous meanness so great a man was guilty of! Why should authors and orators be so reluctant to tell the truth of a great man's follies and crimes, seeing with what convenience and fluency they will lie for him? We contend, and shall contend, that a truly great man cannot be guilty of a small act, and that one contemptible or atrocious manifestation in man, is enough to sully – tarnish the brightness of a dozen brilliant deeds; but apparently, the accepted notion is —vice versa.