Bill and the Boys.The Lottery Ticket, continued.Thereader will remember that Tom Trudge had set off from his home in the country, to go to New York and see to the success of his lottery ticket. He soon arrived at the great city, and found, to his vexation, that the drawing of the lottery was postponed for a week beyond the appointed time. It seemed to him hardly worth while to return to his home, but what should he do to get rid of this terrible week? When we are looking forward with impatience to a certain event, the time that stands between us and the object of desire, is considered a hateful enemy, and we set about killing it as well as we can. Some people are as anxious to kill time, as if it were a lion or a grizzly bear.At the period we speak of, some thirty or forty years ago, a common way of killing time, or, in other words, of wasting that most precious gift of Heaven, was to go to a tap-room or tavern, and drink flip, whiskey or grog, and indulge in low and vulgar conversation. Such things are considered very silly now, but it was otherwise then. Tom could think of no other way to spend his week than to go to the Jefferson and Liberty tavern, and indulge in the amusements of the bar-room. So thither he went,and by keeping himself in a state verging on intoxication, he continued to while away the awful seven days.At last the appointed hour came. A firm conviction had taken possession of Tom’s mind, that he was to draw the prize of fifty thousand dollars. He did not seem to consider that there were twenty thousand tickets, and that his chance of getting it was only one in twenty thousand. To a deluded mind, such an obstacle is nothing; one chance in twenty thousand is just as good as certainty. When the drawing took place, the office was thronged with a crowd of people, most of them wretched in the extreme. There were old men, tottering upon the verge of the grave; there were haggard women, evidently starving for want of the money they had invested in the lottery; there were young persons, of both sexes, apparently sunk in vice and wasted with poverty; there were the sick and emaciated, mingled with the strong and the reckless. All anticipated with hope and expectation,—and yet all, or nearly all, were destined to go away with disappointment and sickness of heart.Tom got close to the revolving wheel, and, with his ticket in his hand, watched the numbers as they were declared. Several times his heart beat violently, as a number came out near his own. The drawing continued for more than two hours, and his hopes began to fly, as he perceived that the prizes were nearly all out. At last his own number, which was 777, was announced, and immediately after, it appeared that it had drawn the prize of 50,000 dollars!!!Tom Trudge was in general a pretty stable-minded man, but for a moment his eyes grew dim and his brain reeled. A strange variety of images glided in confusion before his fancy, among which, his wife, with ayallerdamask gown and a fine fan, were conspicuous. Finding it necessary to have air, he left the crowd, and went into the street. For some time he could hardly tell where or what he was; but at last his faculties rallied, and, coming fully to himself, he began to consider what was to be done.He made inquiries at the office, and found that he could cash his prize at once by paying 5000 dollars discount;—this he did, and immediately found himself in the possession of the sum of forty-five thousand dollars,—an immense sum in those days, especially for a pedlar, who had seldom before had fifty dollars in hand at a time. Though he was anxious to go home and communicate his good fortune to his wife, he did not forget her injunction. He went forthwith and purchased a magnificent changeable silk dress, of yellow and purple, upon which was a representation of a bathing goddess in figures of gold. He also purchased a fan, on one side of which was a Venus, and on the other a Cupid, and started for home. Stopping at every tavern on the road, he drank liberally, and by the time he reached his cottage, his brain was not a little muddled.When he entered the little dwelling, his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes staring,—his whole aspect, indeed, was wild and singular. He, however, rushed up to his wife, exclaiming, “I have got it! I have got it!” He then kissed her over and over again; took up hischildren and nearly stifled them with his obstreperous embraces; at the same time, he shouted, danced and whirled round like a bedlamite. “What is it ails you, Tom? What in natur’ is the matter? Are you drunk or mad?” said his spouse. “I have got it,—there, there!” said Tom, hurling the bundle of silk at his wife’s head. “There’s the yaller damask, and the fine fan! And here’s the fifty thousand dollars!” Saying this, he took an enormous bundle of bank bills from his pocket, and giving it a whirl around his head, threw it across the room, and scattered the precious bits of paper over the floor. It is impossible to depict the astonishment of Mrs. Trudge, as she beheld the shower of bank bills, of five, ten and even twenty dollars each, now lying before her, as abundant as the very chips around the wood-pile.For a moment the dame was bewildered, and the idea crossed her mind that it was only a dream. It was indeed so much like one of those visions that often cheat the mind in sleep, that she stood still, rubbed her forehead and looked puzzled for several seconds. But in a few moments her husband, quite out of his head, began to dance among the scattered bills, and cutting his pigeon-wings where they lay thickest, made them fly in all directions. Several of them were near the hearth, and, caught by the draught, edged closer and closer to the heap of coals, and at last bounded under the forestick and were instantly reduced to ashes. Others took a flying leap up the throat of the chimney, and circling round and round, disappeared amidst the soot and coiling smoke.These circumstances at last recalled Mrs. Trudge to her senses. She had by degrees unravelled the tangled skein of events and made out the truth. She saw that her husband had actually drawn a great prize; that, obedient to her command, he had bought the damask and the fan, and that, between tippling and delight, his wits had gone wool-gathering for a season. She saw the necessity of immediate exertion to save the bank bills, now scattered like worthless rags upon the floor, her bewitched husband still rigadooning in their midst, and grinding them beneath his feet, or making them circle about upon the eddies of air that his brisk motions created. Like a hawk pouncing upon a brood of chickens, she now stooped upon the cash, and gathered it by handfuls into her apron, which she held up by the two corners. Seeing what she was about, her addled lord came after her and chased her round the room. But Mrs. Trudge took good care to keep out of his way, and soon succeeded in picking up the greater part of the bills. At last her husband, being completely exhausted, fell upon the floor. His good wife then dragged him to bed, and leaving him there in a sound sleep, she completed her work of securing the money.Trudge slept long and heavy, but at last he awoke. He seemed sadly bewildered, and put his hand to his forehead in a manner which showed that he not only had a pain in his head, but was troubled in mind. At last he turned to his wife, and demanded, “Where is the money?”“Money?” said his better half,—“Money!what man—money! money, indeed! I think I should like some money myself. ’Tis a pretty business indeed: you go away and leave your tender wife and suffering children for ten long days; you then come back drunk as a fiddler, cut up all sorts of cantraps about the house, almost murther your family, and then, after you have come to your senses, you ask, as innocent as a cat licking cream, ‘where is the money?’ Whereisthe money? say I. Zounds, where is my yaller damask and the French fan? Come, speak, man! Or is it all a dream? Didn’t you draw the big prize, after all? Oh, Tom, Tom! I told you so; I told you how it would be; I knew you had thrown away your money, and here we are, a poor innocent family, reduced to ruin, poverty and starvation!!” Upon this, the dame held her apron to her eyes, and the tears, real tears, bright as crystals, chased each other down her rosy cheeks.Poor Tom Trudge! There he sat on the bedside, the very image of botheration. For the life of him, he could not tell whether he had really drawn the prize, or only been visited by a bewildering vision. At last, however, the mists that had hung over his mind began to clear away; the truth came more and more distinct to his mind, and finally he recollected the drawing of the lottery, his obtaining the forty-five thousand dollars, his buying the damask and the fan—his journey homeward, and the meeting with his wife. Just as he had fully brought to recollection the whole affair, he looked up, and discovered a half malicious smile shining through the tears of his spouse. She now burst into a hearty laugh, and brought forth the bundle of bank notes, nicely done up, and Tom Trudge and his wife were the happiest couple in the universe.[To be continued.]
The Lottery Ticket, continued.
Thereader will remember that Tom Trudge had set off from his home in the country, to go to New York and see to the success of his lottery ticket. He soon arrived at the great city, and found, to his vexation, that the drawing of the lottery was postponed for a week beyond the appointed time. It seemed to him hardly worth while to return to his home, but what should he do to get rid of this terrible week? When we are looking forward with impatience to a certain event, the time that stands between us and the object of desire, is considered a hateful enemy, and we set about killing it as well as we can. Some people are as anxious to kill time, as if it were a lion or a grizzly bear.
At the period we speak of, some thirty or forty years ago, a common way of killing time, or, in other words, of wasting that most precious gift of Heaven, was to go to a tap-room or tavern, and drink flip, whiskey or grog, and indulge in low and vulgar conversation. Such things are considered very silly now, but it was otherwise then. Tom could think of no other way to spend his week than to go to the Jefferson and Liberty tavern, and indulge in the amusements of the bar-room. So thither he went,and by keeping himself in a state verging on intoxication, he continued to while away the awful seven days.
At last the appointed hour came. A firm conviction had taken possession of Tom’s mind, that he was to draw the prize of fifty thousand dollars. He did not seem to consider that there were twenty thousand tickets, and that his chance of getting it was only one in twenty thousand. To a deluded mind, such an obstacle is nothing; one chance in twenty thousand is just as good as certainty. When the drawing took place, the office was thronged with a crowd of people, most of them wretched in the extreme. There were old men, tottering upon the verge of the grave; there were haggard women, evidently starving for want of the money they had invested in the lottery; there were young persons, of both sexes, apparently sunk in vice and wasted with poverty; there were the sick and emaciated, mingled with the strong and the reckless. All anticipated with hope and expectation,—and yet all, or nearly all, were destined to go away with disappointment and sickness of heart.
Tom got close to the revolving wheel, and, with his ticket in his hand, watched the numbers as they were declared. Several times his heart beat violently, as a number came out near his own. The drawing continued for more than two hours, and his hopes began to fly, as he perceived that the prizes were nearly all out. At last his own number, which was 777, was announced, and immediately after, it appeared that it had drawn the prize of 50,000 dollars!!!
Tom Trudge was in general a pretty stable-minded man, but for a moment his eyes grew dim and his brain reeled. A strange variety of images glided in confusion before his fancy, among which, his wife, with ayallerdamask gown and a fine fan, were conspicuous. Finding it necessary to have air, he left the crowd, and went into the street. For some time he could hardly tell where or what he was; but at last his faculties rallied, and, coming fully to himself, he began to consider what was to be done.
He made inquiries at the office, and found that he could cash his prize at once by paying 5000 dollars discount;—this he did, and immediately found himself in the possession of the sum of forty-five thousand dollars,—an immense sum in those days, especially for a pedlar, who had seldom before had fifty dollars in hand at a time. Though he was anxious to go home and communicate his good fortune to his wife, he did not forget her injunction. He went forthwith and purchased a magnificent changeable silk dress, of yellow and purple, upon which was a representation of a bathing goddess in figures of gold. He also purchased a fan, on one side of which was a Venus, and on the other a Cupid, and started for home. Stopping at every tavern on the road, he drank liberally, and by the time he reached his cottage, his brain was not a little muddled.
When he entered the little dwelling, his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes staring,—his whole aspect, indeed, was wild and singular. He, however, rushed up to his wife, exclaiming, “I have got it! I have got it!” He then kissed her over and over again; took up hischildren and nearly stifled them with his obstreperous embraces; at the same time, he shouted, danced and whirled round like a bedlamite. “What is it ails you, Tom? What in natur’ is the matter? Are you drunk or mad?” said his spouse. “I have got it,—there, there!” said Tom, hurling the bundle of silk at his wife’s head. “There’s the yaller damask, and the fine fan! And here’s the fifty thousand dollars!” Saying this, he took an enormous bundle of bank bills from his pocket, and giving it a whirl around his head, threw it across the room, and scattered the precious bits of paper over the floor. It is impossible to depict the astonishment of Mrs. Trudge, as she beheld the shower of bank bills, of five, ten and even twenty dollars each, now lying before her, as abundant as the very chips around the wood-pile.
For a moment the dame was bewildered, and the idea crossed her mind that it was only a dream. It was indeed so much like one of those visions that often cheat the mind in sleep, that she stood still, rubbed her forehead and looked puzzled for several seconds. But in a few moments her husband, quite out of his head, began to dance among the scattered bills, and cutting his pigeon-wings where they lay thickest, made them fly in all directions. Several of them were near the hearth, and, caught by the draught, edged closer and closer to the heap of coals, and at last bounded under the forestick and were instantly reduced to ashes. Others took a flying leap up the throat of the chimney, and circling round and round, disappeared amidst the soot and coiling smoke.
These circumstances at last recalled Mrs. Trudge to her senses. She had by degrees unravelled the tangled skein of events and made out the truth. She saw that her husband had actually drawn a great prize; that, obedient to her command, he had bought the damask and the fan, and that, between tippling and delight, his wits had gone wool-gathering for a season. She saw the necessity of immediate exertion to save the bank bills, now scattered like worthless rags upon the floor, her bewitched husband still rigadooning in their midst, and grinding them beneath his feet, or making them circle about upon the eddies of air that his brisk motions created. Like a hawk pouncing upon a brood of chickens, she now stooped upon the cash, and gathered it by handfuls into her apron, which she held up by the two corners. Seeing what she was about, her addled lord came after her and chased her round the room. But Mrs. Trudge took good care to keep out of his way, and soon succeeded in picking up the greater part of the bills. At last her husband, being completely exhausted, fell upon the floor. His good wife then dragged him to bed, and leaving him there in a sound sleep, she completed her work of securing the money.
Trudge slept long and heavy, but at last he awoke. He seemed sadly bewildered, and put his hand to his forehead in a manner which showed that he not only had a pain in his head, but was troubled in mind. At last he turned to his wife, and demanded, “Where is the money?”
“Money?” said his better half,—“Money!what man—money! money, indeed! I think I should like some money myself. ’Tis a pretty business indeed: you go away and leave your tender wife and suffering children for ten long days; you then come back drunk as a fiddler, cut up all sorts of cantraps about the house, almost murther your family, and then, after you have come to your senses, you ask, as innocent as a cat licking cream, ‘where is the money?’ Whereisthe money? say I. Zounds, where is my yaller damask and the French fan? Come, speak, man! Or is it all a dream? Didn’t you draw the big prize, after all? Oh, Tom, Tom! I told you so; I told you how it would be; I knew you had thrown away your money, and here we are, a poor innocent family, reduced to ruin, poverty and starvation!!” Upon this, the dame held her apron to her eyes, and the tears, real tears, bright as crystals, chased each other down her rosy cheeks.
Poor Tom Trudge! There he sat on the bedside, the very image of botheration. For the life of him, he could not tell whether he had really drawn the prize, or only been visited by a bewildering vision. At last, however, the mists that had hung over his mind began to clear away; the truth came more and more distinct to his mind, and finally he recollected the drawing of the lottery, his obtaining the forty-five thousand dollars, his buying the damask and the fan—his journey homeward, and the meeting with his wife. Just as he had fully brought to recollection the whole affair, he looked up, and discovered a half malicious smile shining through the tears of his spouse. She now burst into a hearty laugh, and brought forth the bundle of bank notes, nicely done up, and Tom Trudge and his wife were the happiest couple in the universe.
[To be continued.]