The Bad Boy At Home Part 5

AT THE MASQUE BALL.--FRIVERLUS FIXINS.--A PARISIEN GREASETTE, WOT MASHED THE MASKULINE CHARACKTERS.--MR. GILLEY COT IN HER TOILS.--THE DEVIL IT IS.

Last nite Mr. Gilley giv me a invyta-shun to the fancy masque ball, wot all New York's ben torkin bout for the last six weaks. It was to be a toney affaire, so wen I got hum I went all thru my wardrobe, but culdn't find nothin fancyer than the cloes I wore wen I painted the back fense at our house red with green trimmins. I seen they was hardly prackterkel, cos there was a feint oder of cows & horses clingin to them wot the heet of the ball room mite develop in a way wot wuldn't be satisfacktorie to myself or the delercate knoeses of the other aristocrazey present.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IT WAS ONY THE WURK OF A MINNIT TO PRY OPEN THE LID ]

So I put em away with a sy, and had jest bout maid up my mind that the other ballers wuldn't be treeted to my distingushed presense, wen I remembered the box of cloes wot our dinin room gal, wot was purty fly, left, wen she loped with the buggler, & all ma's silver spoons. It was ony the wurk of a minnit to pry open the lid, and a dazzlin array of butyful & fancy does met my vishun. Then I shed all my things and commensed the arduus wurk of dressin. I say arduus, cos it was parrylisin, discom-fertin, & puzzlin. I useter wonder y ma tuk so long to dress, wen she was goin eny-where, and pa was swarin and hurryin her up. Now, I wunder no longer cos I kno how tis myself, and after my own xperiense in pins, b.u.t.tins, strings, laces, garters, and things, I shall ever look upon wimmin as martirs. The dress was jest short enuf to show my blu striped silk stockins, and bout two inshes of mbroidery.

The stock-ins was a littel too big, so I had to fill em up with hankercheefs. The waste jest but-tened up on me, at the waste line, but it tuk half a dozen piller cases, and a cuppel of sheets, to stuff the upper part of the front. I had to put a reef in crinny line, cos it showd, and it tuk ma's pach-wurk quilt to mak my bussel big enuf for stile.

Wen I was all thru dressin, I looked like a Fifth avenue daysy, every particle of my dress was complete, only I culdnt set down very maudestly, cos my hoops was too wide. Then ma she fixed up my hare, and maid a masque for me, and sed I was a true-ter-life Parisien grea.s.sette.

Soon as I got in the ball-room, every maskerline carackter got mashed on me, and warnted me for a partner. Every one I dansed with treeted me to ice creme and carrymels, and I guess, I ete supper bout seventeen times, in fact I ete so much, that a terrebel strane round my waste, warned that if I indulged my appyt.i.te eny more, a feerful catastrofy, was lierbel to take place.

Bout two o'clock I begun to get tired, & warnted to go home, but my partner, wot was Mr. Gilley, drest in the costum wot he sent me down to Ike Israel's on Chattam Strete, to hire for him, and wot the Jue sed, reprysented Tom Okiltree a Texas Briggand, promissed to get a carrage, and driv me home, if I'd stay till three. I was 'greed, so I dansed three or four more sets with him, and ete sum more creme. Then he got a close carrage, & told the driver to drive orful slow, cos he was frade the moshun of the carrage'd have a bad effect on my nerves.

Soon as we got started he tuk me on his knee, & got to huggin me round the piller slips & sheets and kissin my left eer, and gettin otherwise fermillyer, so I seen the moment had c.u.m for me to be myself, so I lifted up my masque. Soon as he cot site of my face he xclaimed: "Oh!

the Devil!"

"Yes, Sir," sez I, "tis the Devil."

Then, tellin the driver to stop the horses, he lifted up his foot and gin me a kick wot landed rite on ma's pachwurk quilt, and sed: "Go to the devil."

I guess he's mad at me, only he purtends not to be, but that's put on, cos he's frade I'll gin the hull thing away, and then the religus edittur and Mr. Wilson'll hav the laff on him.

The sosighety edittur's report in this mornins _Buster_ says:

"The Parisien Greasette was conseeded by everybodie present to take the onhers of belle of the ball. The knowin ones claim that it was Miss Ellen Terrier, the latest artistick importashun from England, and that Mr. Vandybilt, as the Texas brig-gand, seen her home. If this is a fact, there'll likely be sum domestick thunder flyin round in a uptown manshun."

CHAPTER XIX.

THE HORSE REPORTER WANTS A COMPAGNON DE VOYAGE.--THE STRAPPIN YUNG WIDDER, WOT AIN'T ON THE MASH.--SWEET-FORTY MAKES A NUTHER MINNYSTEERIAL SKANDAL.

Our horse reporter is a reglar wimmin hater, and he'd walk round a hull blok, fore he'd meet a gal, wat'd try to flert with him. I guess he's a gra.s.s widder that used to hav a woman, wot maid him tow a chock line, and he aint never got no divorse from her yet. His aff.e.c.kshuns is all lavished on good lookin horses, and he'd giv more for one of them, than he wuld for Lillie Lan-kry or the hull curboodel of perfesshunal buties.

I alwus did think it was a pitty, for a good lookin man like him, not to hav sum wimmin, wot was brakin there harts, and everything for him, so this mornin I sent out notes to a cuppel of gals, wot I thot was warntin to get mashed, tellin them to call at the _Buster_ offis, & ast for the Horse Reporter, 'cos he was ded struk on them, and warnted there compinny, on a trip to Boston tonite.

Bout one 'clock, a grate stout woman, wot looked like a reglar bruisir, c.u.m inter the offis and enquired for the Horse Reporter. I show'd her into his room, and shut the dore, just enuf so as I could see all wot went on.

"Air yer the spalpeen, wot calls hisself the Maire Reporter? sez she.

"I am the horse reporter, madame. Has your mare got the glanders?"

"Me ma got the glanders, yer inserlent puppie, is that fhat yer say?

Me ma wots ben neeth the old sod fer ten yers. Don't cast any miscomplementry reflecshuns, yung man, on my ma wot dide of anty-consumpshun, or I'll plant the fore end of me toe nales forninst the pit of yer stummick in a way wot'll mak yer feel like a he muel had bruk loose. Air yer the in-dyvidooal wot sent me this invytashun?' sed she, handin the reporter the note.

"I a.s.sure you, madam," sez he, "there must be some mistak, cos I didn't never rite this note."

"Yees didn't, yer rech; is that the way your after crawlin outer it, after try in to ruin a respectibel widdy like meself? Praps yer don't think I'm good lookin enuf for yer, yer babby-faced, downey-lipped, banged-haired, slim-legged, t.i.te-laced, corset-cased, monkey-taled sun of a noospaper doode. If my Pat was livin he'd giv yer a lessin next time yer tride to mash a yung widdy like meself, moind that now, will yer!"

She hadn't hardly got outer the door wen a tall, lone, lank maidin, wot had seen bout forty sommers and too numerous to menshun winters, c.u.m salin in, with a slitely ellyvated skurt wot exposed to vue a couple of wite and blue shafts wot might have been pipe-stems if they hadn't bin her ankels. Bowin sweetly to the law reporter, she requested to be shown into the horse reporter's offis.

Soon as I'd showd her in she tuk a chare, wot was purty close to the Horse Reporters, & sed to him:

"Here I am Georgie, dere. I do feel so nurvus, you kno. I'm so very yung and inexperienced, and my ma sez a yung and innocent gal lik me ortent to trust myself to go to Boston with a man. But then, Georgie dere, you dont look one bit norty. Wont we have a nice time, darlin." Then she reched over and kissed him rite on his mouth, and blushed wen she sed, "Don't Georgie, yer orternter kiss me till we're better aquainted."

Kissing him agen she sot rite down on his knee, and ex-clamed, in a horryfied tone: "You horrid, norty boy, if yer do that again, I'll strik you with a fether, reel hard, so I will."

All this time the horse reporter was the pikter of despare. Suddenly espying a up town divine waitin for the Manergin Edit-tur, in the room opposite, he sed: "My dere madam, your sweetness is all waisted on me, cos I'm a marreed man, wot had twins last nite. See, in yonder room, is the Horse Reporter, the man youre looking for."

By the time she was on the preechers nee, and was goin thru the kissing per-formanse, the Horse Reporter had the hull staff, lookin thru the half opened dore, and the fust day the _Busters_ stock of scandals runs out, we hav one all reddy, bout the minnysteer kissin the madin of forty.

CHAPTER XX.

THE DEVIL IN CHURCH.--A TERRIFICK. XPLOSHUN, AND FLYIN DEBRIS GIVES MR. TALMIG A XCELLENT SUBJECT.--FASHUN AND STILE OF LONG AGO.--GET THE BEHIND ME SATAN.

Today is Sunday. I kno I ortenter rite in you today Mr. Diry, but, as I've had to rite up a serio commick, religus report, I dont see no big objeckshun ter givin it ter you.

Urley this mornin, the Religus edittur called up to our house, and sed he'd giv me a quarter, if I'd go over to Brooklin sted of him, and report a surmon, cos he warnted to go to the little church round the corner, and make it up with the quire singer, wot was goin to sue him for breech of promise. I was 'greed so I went over, and the ushur showd me inter one of the front seets, and didn't collect no admishun fee offen me, cos, I guess he knowd I had a ded hed ticket.

Rite in front of me was a corpulent woman, fatter'an a poorpoise, and the wife of a Brooklyn alderman. She had a hat on wot was as big as a punshun hed, wot she kept twistin round, so I couldnt see a thing wot was goin on on the staige. I guess the woman wayed bout 250 pounds, & her bussel was as big as a Ellerfants. The case was gettin desprit for me, cos I'd agreed to bring hum a report of the performanse. The furst part was jest bout over; the blonde artist was singin a solo, and the audiense was so interested that they all stood up. I seen the time had c.u.m for acshun, so I stood a pepper box wot I had in my pocket on the seet. Soon as the ladie went to sit down, she hadnt calkerlated on eny obstercal, and didnt try to control her gravytal momentum, so she c.u.m plump down on top of the pepper box. A loud, roarin sound, then a terrer-bel xploshun shuk the buildin, and the air was filled with flyin debris, woman, pieces of cloes, hoopskirt, hat, b.u.t.tins, little bits of rubber bussell, strings, and things innumer-abel and unmenshunabel. I never seen such a reck in all my life. The ladie landed right in front of the minister, were sum of the quire girls run to her rescue and kivered her up with shawls, puttin her in a carriage and sendin her home. Soon as the reck was cleered and order restored, the minister sed:

"I came here this mornin with no idea upon wot subject I shuld speek, trustin ontirely to Providense to reveal to the con-gregashun and myself a sootabel one. You see, my heerers, for yourself, my trustin has not been in vane. My text will be: 'And Eve bort a Bon Ton System, and maid herself a fig leef pollynays, cut a la Princesse, and trimmed with dandylion ruchin and sun-flower brade. Then she fleeced a he ram, and of the wool thereof she formed a big bussel, and Adam got mashed on her fine does, and she turned up her knoes at the washerwomans darter wot didnt have on nothin but a palm leef jursey, wot fit her too soon.'

"You ladies are all alike, and you get your line of dress, from a purty long and direct line of ancestry. I dont think a fine dress is a sinful appendage to eny lady, in fact I like to see a ladie drest well, but to be drest well, a lady ort not to practise deceit, or act a lie, for there is such a thing as actin a lie. Now bussils are the devils perticklar delite, cos there a form of deceit, in fact, I verily beleeve the devil is in every bussel, and actin on the Biblical advise, the ladies all say, 'Get thee behind me, Satan.' Hereafter, air balloon bussles will be considered contraband, in this church, and ladys suspected of carry in them, will be subject to a serchin, and rigid xaminashun, before bein admitted."

CHAPTER XXI.

ROUTS THE REPUBLERCAN RABBEL.--CAMPANE LIES.--THE DEVIL IN LEAGUE WITH DEMMERCRAZEY.--GRATE WAS THE FALL THEREOF.

Tomorrer is eleckshun day, so tonite the Republercans hav been havin a gran free strete exhybishun. I'll be orful glad wen the eleckshun is over, 'cos the xcite-ment, & late hours, attendin the campane, is weerin out my nurves. Jimmy and I hav jest got in Mr. Diry, and I think paraders are wonderin wot struck em by this time.

Bout half past seven, the torch lite perrsesshun got together, at Cooper inst.i.tute, and began the march up town to Uniyun square were the liars was to hold forth. There was a norful lot in the persesshun, and sum of 'em had banners, with a pole cat eatin a rooster. I got indignunt, cos they was ntirely too fresh, so me & Jimmy run on ahed of em, and sprinkled the strete with torpedoes wot we bort a purpose.

You'd dide to seen em marchin rite on to 'em, singing out "Down with Gilley and the wiskey suckin demmercrazey." Soon as they stepped on sum torpedoes, they didn't wate for marchin orders. Cos there was a norful noise, like the demmycrazey was in leegue with the subterrainon bosses, and they was celebratin there indypendense day.

I was sorry to see them disband, cos they looked sorter purty, and the band wot they had in the persesshun maid things lively.

They had a big platform erected wot was meant for the big guns of the partie, to fire off lies and ellyquense from, soon as the persesshun arrived, so me and Jimmie run up there and wated til the crowd wot had got dermoreylized arrove, and the speekin begun. The fust speeker wot held forth, was a clerickel-lookin cus, wot peared to be only bout twenty-one years old. He give a long descriptshun of wot him and his partie, had done for the country durin the late unplessantness, when the oppersishun candydate, Mr. Gilley, was to hum, busy weerin out his pettycotes. This made me madder'an durnashun, cos I knowd the feller wos lying a reglar baldhedded lie, cos if Mr. Gilley wos weerin pettycotes wen the war brok out, his pa and ma orter kep on lettin him be a gal, and then, p'raps, his hare wuldn't all fell out. The peeple didnt pare to xhibit much inthusyism over the fellers remarks, cos he haled from out in Oio, and citizens out in such far away and semiuncivylized states, aint sposed to kno as much as us New Yorkers enyway. A nuther feller got up and sed: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is the eve of a grate eleckshun. Tomorrer us free men'll go up to the poles and deposit our ballots inter the box, and thus signify our choice of rulers. Every one present knoes the disgraceful condishun of the New York Demmycrazey.

Its platform is rotten in every plank. Its leeder Mr. Gilley is the dubble-extract of rottinness, and the hull rank and file of the party is in a fit state to be condemned by the fresh meet inspector. How is the Republican party? Its swete and pure as a new-born baby. Its leeder is as clene and wite as new milk, and all Hay-dies culdnt find a flaw in the platform on wich we stand." Just then I guess the devil muster taken excepshuns to the remarks, cos I'd pulled the rope wot I'd fixed to the loose leg of the platform, and the hull bisness toppled over the speekers and vice preserdents of the meetin, presentin a free accrobatic tumblin show to the amused and interested audiense. All the peepel wot was present and seen the platform give way are feelin blu and superstishus, cos there frade the Devil's in leegue with the Demmercrazey, and I guess there bout rite; aint they, Mr. Diry?