HIGH LIFE IN NEW YORK.

BY JONATHAN SLICK, ESQ., OF WEATHERSFIELD, CONNECTICUT.

A SERIES OF LETTERS TO MR. ZEPHARIAH SLICK, JUSTICE OF THE PEACE, AND DEACON OF THE CHURCH OVER TO WEATHERSFIELD IN THE STATE OF CONNECTICUT.

EMBELLISHED WITH ILLUSTRATIVE ENGRAVINGS.

Philadelphia: T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, 806 CHESTNUT STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS., In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.

[Pg iii]

JONATHAN SENDS A PREFACE.

A letter was dispatched to Weathersfield requesting Mr. Slick to forward a preface for his volume of epistles, but that gentleman instead sent the following letter, which is so full of his own peculiar humor that his friends will no doubt gladly accept of it in lieu of one.

The Publishers.

Weathersfield, Connecticut.

Gentlemen, Surs:

Your letter got tu the old humstead last night, nigh upon bed time, and it eenamost upsot me to think that a feller that's printed so many smashing books, had got a notion tu print my Letters tu, and asked my consent jest as mealy mouthed as a feller asks the gal he's been a courting to yoke in with him for life.

Now about the price of them are letters when they are all fixed out in a book. I ain't much acquainted with that sort of trading; but I reckon you'll have to go a notch higher yit. I never yit heard of a Slick's taking the fust offer for any thing, and I've cut my eye teeth as well as the rest on 'em, if I du write. Say ten or fifteen dollars more now, and mebby it'll du, providing you give in a set of them are stories of the Revolution with picters, and some of the smashing novels that have got your names tu them, for my book-shelf in the back-room. Come up tu the mark on this point, and I'll agree tu sign off any time you want me tu, and I hope the book'll go off like a flash of lightning down a forked rod.

[Pg iv]

But you want me to write something with a pesky new fangled name that has eenamost upsot me. Write a preface! What on arth is a preface? I can pull an even yoke with any York chap yet, at writing a letter; but when you come to talk of prefaces, darn me if I know what the critters are. Your letter kinder riled me up. The first thing I did was to get down the old goose quill and ink-bottle and go to work. I was a'most tuckered out a grinding cider all day, but the thoughts of having my name on the kiver of a smashing book with picters in it, sot my genius to working like a yeast pot; but then how tu begin with this new-fangled consarn—there it was agin. I got the old dictionary and tried to find out what a preface was; but I might as well have tried to make timber out of pine shavings. "Something to go before a speech, or a book, or an essay, to tell what they're about." Now if it had said an old hoss leading off an ox-team with a cart behind, I could have sent the animal at once, fresh and chirk from the cider mill; but how to tackle an idea on a book and make it pull, is

more than I am up to, without knowing more about the sort of literary animal you want to use, and the harness that fits him. I ain't rusted out yit, by no manner of means; but I don't mean to make a coot of myself by tackling in with any strange animal till I know what he is. Now take a pen in hand tu once and let me know what it is that you want, and you can depend on me, fodder or no fodder; but keep dark about my having to ask about it. I don't want all the literary chaps in York a poking fun at me.

Wal, yes, I ain't ashamed to own it, I am tickled eenamost tu death with the idee of my letters being printed in a harnsome book with tip-top picters in it. But about my likeness, taken for the Morning Express when I first come tu York, with the corn-colored coat and pepper-and-salt trowsers and old bell crown—gauly, how I sot by that old hat! Wal, as I was saying about that are likeness, I han't no [Pg v] objections tu its going inside the kiver jest as it was. But like all great literary characters, I reckon there's been a pretty considerable improvement in me since I began to write, and, like our old barn that's been shingled and clapboarded over, I'm the same critter yet, timbers and all; but I reckon you'll find that I've slicked up the outside a few, and grown a little more pussy since the old pepper-and-salt saw the day.

Now I'll tell you jest how you'd better manage it. Put the picter you speak on inside the kiver; but on the outside jest have me pictered out in a bran new hat, that Mr. Genin sent me jest afore I left York. It's about as near like the old one, as a son ought to be like his par. Don't forget my velvet vest, finefied off with curlecues, and my blue coat with the shining buttons; and if you don't git a picter that'll make the gals' eyes water, your artists down there in York don't know a good looking chap when they see him, or can't paint him if they du.

Now about writing another book, I raly don't know what tu say. Them letters of mine eenamost tuckered me out at the time; but somehow I'd give all creation to be at 'em again, and one of these days I may pluck up grit and take a trip over tu England. If I du, by the living hokey, you'll find John Bull in a tantrum by the time I've got through with him. That are English lord that I writ about in my letters, gave me an invite tu come tu England, and mebby he'll see a good looking chap about my size on t'other side the fishing pond some day or other. Who knows?

You want to know if I feel content to give up life among the big bugs in New York, and settle down here in the country. Wal, now, between you and I and the post, I du feel a trifle melancholy now and then. Foddering cattle, going tu mill and chopping ovenwood ain't jest the thing tu rile up the poetry in a feller's bosom; and onion tops and garden sars generally ain't considered the sort of greens [Pg vi] that a literary chap wants put round his head, though they're awful refreshing to the stomach. But then again, my par, the deacon, is getting to be a purty old man, and Judy——; but what's the use of talking arter a feller's under the harrow?

Wal, if I ain't contented, I sartinly ought to be, if the women folks are judges, and it's quite a considerable time since I've thought it worth while to have a tussel for any opinion of my own. But tu own right up, I du hanker awfully tu get off into the world agin; but, for gracious sake, don't say a word about it. I should never hear the last of it, if you did, for Judy hates city gals like rank pisin, and is allfired jealous that I'm hankering to git among 'em again.

I don't know how I ever cum to write this ere long letter, but somehow, when I set down, pen in hand, the old natur will bile up and run on.

Now about that are consarned preface, jest set down tu once and describe the way it's to be done, and I'll undertake it, for I want tu make the book first chop; and if you want more team, I'm the chap tu hitch it on, the minit you let a feller know what's wanted. So, hoping you'll be particular about the preface,

I'm yours tu command,

Jonathan Slick.

P. S.—Don't forget to have my watch chain and things a hanging outside of the vest, and put my two big rings with stones in 'em, on my left hand. I say nothing, but there may be gals in New York that would like tu see them are rings agin, but take them off from all the kivers you send into these parts now, I tell you.

J. S.

[Pg vii]

CONTENTS.

[Pg 13]

LETTER I.

First Impressions of New York—Visit to the Counting-room of a City Cousin—Advice to his Clerk—Description of a City Residence and its Inmates.

To Mr. Zepharia Slick, Justice of the Peace, and Deacon of the Church, over to Weathersfield, in the State of Connecticut:

Dear Par:

I arrived here safe and sound, arter a long and tedious voyage down the river and along shore to this place. The Captain left me to navigate the sloop purty much alone. The lazy coot did nothing on arth but eat raw turnips and drink cider brandy all the way down. I'll be whipped if he warn't more than half corned the hull time. Now it's my opinion that the best thing you can do with that chap is to send him eend foremost about his business jest as quick as he gits back. He don't arn salt to his porrage, nor never did. The first thing I did arter the sloop was hauled up to the wharf at Peck slip, was to go down to the stores about Fulton market and peddle off the cider brandy and garden sarce. Captain Doolittle wanted to go with me, but you sent me down here as a sort of a supercargo, and I warn't likely to let him stick his nose into my business.

By gracious, if it didn't make me stare to see the purty gals and the harnsome married wimmen a walking up and down the market among the heaps of beets and cabbages. They looked around mighty knowing, and I rather guess I got my share of [Pg 14] attention; but somehow it made me feel kinder streaked to have them a looking at me so steady, for I hadn't nothing on but my every day clothes, besides, the stock that marm made me out of her old bombasine petticoat, propped up my chin so that I couldn't a stooped to look into a woman's face if I'd a wanted tu ever so much. I do believe marm and Judy White must a put more than a peck of tatur starch into the lining. It's allfired stiff, that's a fact.

Wal, I sold out the lading to purty good advantage, considering the times. Then I went down to the sloop, and slicked up in my Sunday clothes and started off full chisel to go and see cousin John Beebe. They told me that he kept store away down Pearl street, eenamost to the Battery; so I went on, as fast as I could git along through the boxes and barrels that lay in the street, till I come to a great high brick store that had cousin John's name over the door. It seems that John has gone into partnership with a Mr. Co, for that feller's name is on the sign arter his'n as large as life. I knew that he and John Wheeler went into company together, but I suppose they wanted more chink than either on 'em could raise, and so engaged this Mr. Co to help 'em along.

I swan if it warn't enough to make a feller dry to see the hogsheads of rum and molasses, and the heaps of tea boxes and sugar barrels, piled up inside the store; it looked like living, I can tell you. I went through clear to the other eend of the store, for they told me that cousin John was in the counting-room, away back there.

Wal, I got into the counting-room at last, and a harnsome little room it was, all carpeted and fixed out like some of our best rooms in Connecticut. I hain't seen so purty a store scarce ever. John wasn't there, but I could see that he hadn't got over all his old tricks, for a lot of chestnut shells were trod down round the stove, and there wasn't a few empty bottles standing round under the table and back of the desks. It was enough to turn one's stomach to look at the spit box; it was more than half filled up with pieces of segars, and ends of tobacco, that looked as if they had been chawed over a dozen times or more. I don't see where cousin John got that trick of smoking and chawing; I defy any body [Pg 15] to say he larned it in old Connecticut. They needn't talk to us about the Yankees, for these Yorkers beat us all holler in them things; I hain't forgot the time when John would a turned up his nose at a long nine, as if it had a been pison, but now he's sot himself up for a gentleman there is no knowing what he hain't taken tu.

There was a chap standing by one of the desks, with the edge of his dickey turned over his stock—like an old-fashioned baby's bib, put on wrong side afore—and with his hair curled and frizzled up like a gal's. I knew in a minit that this feller couldn't be cousin John, so I went up to him, and sez I:—

"Friend, can you tell me when Mr. Beebe 'ill be in?" The chap took a watch out of his vest pocket about as big as a ninepence, and sez he—

"I don't know positively, but I s'pose in the course of half an hour or so. It's about time for the banks to close."

"Wal," sez I, "I s'pose I may as well wait for him, as I ain't in much of a hurry jest now." So I sot down in a chair, and arter histing my sole leather onto the top of the stove, I begun to scrape acquaintance with the chap, as I went along.

"Tough times with you marchants, now, ain't they?" sez I, a looking over the top of the paper.

"Very," sez he, a mending his pen. "It's as much as we can du to make both eends meet afore the bank's shut up days. Mr. Beebe's out a shinning now."

"A what?" sez I.

"A shinning," says he—"borrowing money to take up his own notes with, and if he don't get it, I don't know what we shall du."

"Oh!" sez I to myself, "this is the new partner, Mr. Co; he must have a good chance of money in the consarn, or he wouldn't feel so oneasy."

"We was doing a beautiful business," sez he, a shaking his head, "till some of the banks stopped specie payments. I wish they'd a been sunk."

"No," sez I, "that ain't fair, but it's human natur, I s'pose to give banks as well as people, a helping kick when they're going down hill. I don't understand much of these things, Mr. Co."

[Pg 16]

"My name isn't Co," sez he, a staring; "it's Smith."

"What," sez I, "have they got another in the company?"

"No," sez he, kinder coloring up; "I'm the assistant bookkeeper."

I couldn't but jest keep from giving a long whistle right out, the stuck up varmint! "Wal," sez I, arter a minit, "Mr. Smith, let me give you one piece of advice—don't be so ready to say we, and to talk over your employers' business with strangers next time. Such things do no good any way, but they may do a good deal of harm. It's the duty of a clark, among us, to attend to that he's paid for, and if he attends to much else, we purty ginerally find out that he ain't good for much in the long run."

You never saw a feller look so mean as he did when I said this; he turned all manner of colors, and acted mad enough to eat me. I didn't seem to mind him, but took up a newspaper and begun to read, jest as if he wasn't in the room; and by-am-by I got so deep in the paper, that I forgot all about him or cousin Beebe either.

Look a-here, Par, if you hain't seen the New York Evening Express, jest stretch your purse-strings a leetle, and subscribe for it. It's a peeler of a paper, I can tell you. You needn't take my word for it though, for I've made this letter so tarnal long, that it'd cost more than the price of a paper a hull year to pay the postage, so I've a notion to git the editors to print this for me in their primest evening paper, and so you'll git my letters and paper tu, all for five cents. I'll jest give you a little notion how they make the Express, for I read it eenamost through, afore cousin John come. The editors get all the papers in the country together, jest as we pick out our apples in cider time, and they go to work and git all that's worth reading out on 'em, and put it all in one great paper, which they sell for two cents; so that a feller can know what's said by every editor North and South, on one side and t'other, without the trouble of reading but one paper;—jest as we can git the juice of a bushel of apples all in a

pint of cider, after it's once been through the mill. I raly think it's one of the best plans I ever heard on, and I'm so sartin that every body will take it by-am-by, that I've a notion that if you'd jest as livs let me throw up the onion trade, I'll try and get in to [Pg 17] write for it, but we'll talk all that over by-am-by, arter I've seen the editors. Major Jack Downing is writing for them already, and perhaps—but I hain't made up my mind about it yit, though I kept a thinking it over all the while I was a reading in the counting-room.

Wal, I was jest taking a dive inter the advertisements, when cousin John came in. I raly believe you wouldn't know the critter, he's altered so. He's grown as fat and pussy as old lawyer Sikes in our parts, but I raly think he looks better for it. I tell you what, his clothes must cost him a few. He had on a superfine broadcloth coat, that didn't cost a whit less than ten dollars a yard, I wouldn't be afraid to bet a cookey. You could a seen your face in his boots, and his hair was parted on the top of his head, and hung down on the sides of his face and all over his coat collar, till he looked more like a woman in men's clothes than any thing else. I thought I should a haw-hawed out a larfin, all I could du, though it made me kinder wrathy to see a feller make such an etarnal coot of himself. I thought I'd see if he'd know me agin, so I on'y jist crossed one foot over t'other on the top of the stove, and tipt my chair back on its hind legs, and kept on reading as independent as a corkscrew, jest ter see how he'd act.

Wal, he cum right up to the stove, and took his coat tail under his arms, and begun to whistle as if there warn't nobody in the room. Once in a while as I took a peek over the top of the paper, I could see that he was a looking at me kinder sideways, as if he couldn't exactly make up his mind whether he knew me or not. I felt my heart kinder rising up in my throat, for it put me in mind of old times when we used to weed onions and slide down hill together. At last I couldn't stand it no longer, so I jumped up and flung down the paper, and, says I, "Cousin Beebe, how do you du?"

He stared like a stuck pig at fust, but I raly believe the feller was glad to see me when he found out who I was, for he shook my hand like all natur. Sez he, "Mr. Slick," sez he, "I'm glad to see you down in the city; how's the deacon, and aunt Eunice, and the Mills gals? You see I han't forgot old times."

With that we sot into a stream of talk about Weathersfield people, [Pg 18] and so on that lasted a good two hours, by the town clock. Arter a while cousin John took out his watch, all gold inside and out, and sez he,

"Come, Mr. Slick, it's about four o'clock—go up and take a family dinner with us."

I rather guess I stared a few, to think of being axed to eat dinner at that time o' day; but as I hadn't eat any thing but a cold bite aboard the sloop since morning, the thoughts of a good warm dinner warn't by no means to be sneezed at.

"Better late than never," sez I to myself, arter I had put on my hat and stuck my hands in my pantaloons' pockets ready for a start. But jest as we wur a going out, there come a feller in to talk over some bisness matters, so sez Cousin Beebe, sez he—

"Here, Mr. Slick, is the number of our house—supposin you go along and tell Mrs. Beebe that I'll be home as soon as I can get through a little bisness—she wont make a stranger of you."

"I rather guess she won't," sez I, a taking the little piece of paper which he'd been a writing on; "if she does there must a been an almighty change in her since we used to go to singing school and apple bees together."

John looked kind a skeery toward the stranger, and begun to fidget about; so I told him I could find the way and made myself scarce in less than no time—for I thought as like as not the feller cum to git him to put his name to a note, or something of that sort; so I thought I'd give him a chance to say no, if he wanted tu.

By gracious! Par, I'd give a quart of soap if you and marm could a been with me in Broadway as I went along. I couldn't help stopping eenamost every other minit to look into the winders.