_Enter John Kelly._
_Bennett_—Well, my lad, I have borrowed a pair of old shoes for you from
my bed-fellow in Cross street. They may be rather large, but you must
contrive to wear them until Saturday, when I will get you a new pair, if
I have the money to spare. Sit down, Johnny, and try on the shoes.
_John_ (puts them on)—They are much too large, aint they?
_Bennett_—Well, yes, but if you put some pieces of newspaper in them,
you can lessen their size.
_John_ (stuffs them in the heels and toes and sides with fragments of
the _Herald_ of the preceding day)—There, sir, I guess I can wear them
now, and I am truly obliged to you for borrowing them for me.
_Bennett_—Not at all, John, for you did more than that for me yesterday,
in obtaining my papers from Mr. Anderson.
_John_ (in hurriedly walking across the office, steps out of one of the
aged shoes, but steps in again before Bennett’s keen eyes perceived that
one foot had stepped out)—That was a great pleasure, sir, and I hope you
will have the same good luck to-day.
_Bennett_—I sold very few papers yesterday, and I have very little
money, and Anderson has my watch, and I fear he will not let me have the
papers until I redeem it, and pay him for the _Heralds_ of to-day.
_John_—I will do all in my power to obtain them for you.
_Bennett_—I know you will, my dear little friend. But come—we will go
and try to get the papers. (They arrive at Anderson & Ward’s, in Ann
street. Anderson is absent, and Ward is partially drunk and asleep on
the counter, and Bennett arouses him.)
_Ward_—What are you about? (rubbing his eyes and garrping.) What do you
want (hic) so early in the morning, you vagabonds? hic, hec, hoc.
_Bennett_—I want my papers.
_Ward_—You can’t (hic) have them without the money, (hoc.)
_Bennett_—Please let me have them.
_Ward_—Where’s your (hic) watch?
_Bennett_—I let Mr. Anderson have it yesterday.
_Ward_—Don’t you (hic-a-che-a-che-Horatio-darn it, how I sneeze) sell
any _Heralds_ now-a-days? a-che-a-che-a-che-Horatio—O, Jerusalem! will I
never stop sneezing?
_Bennett_—It stormed yesterday, and I did not sell many, but it is
pleasant this morning, and I think I shall sell a large number.
_Ward_—Well, I’ll not be (hic, hic, hic,) too hard with you, old fellow.
There, take your papers, and try hard (hic) to sell (hic) them to-day,
and (hic-a-che) bring a whole lot of money to (hic) morrow.
_Bennett_—I will, Mr. Ward, and I’ll always remember you with gratitude
for your generosity to-day. Good day, sir.
_Ward_—Farewell, old boy. And just shut the door alter you. I have been
(hic) on a spree all night, (hec,) and I don’t want anybody else to come
in and bother (hic) me, until I finish my nap.
_Bennett_—I’ll lock the door outside, and put the key in the window.
_Ward_—Do so, old (hic) boy, do so. (And he goes to sleep, and Bennett
and John wend their way to Wall street.)
_Bennett_—Now, John, this is the last chance I shall have. If I fail to
sell my papers to-day, I am ruined for ever.
_John_—Had I not better go into the stores, and try to sell the papers.
_Bennett_ (kisses him in Nassau street)—My dear boy, if you will do
that, I will love you next to my God. My great trouble has been to get
honest boys to sell my paper, and return the money to me, instead of
going to the Theatre and eating peanuts with my funds. Now, you take
some, and I’ll take some, and you take one side of the street and I the
other, and let us toil for our lives (until the sun goes down) to sell
these papers, and, if we fail, my fate is sealed for time, and perhaps
for eternity!
_John_—What! You won’t commit suicide?
_Bennett_—God only knows what I shall do.
_John_—Well, I see there’s no time to be lost. So, give me some papers,
and I’ll go into the first store on this side, and you take the other
side of the street. (They separate, John going into every store on his
side, and Bennett into every store on the other side, until they arrive
at Wall street, when they go into Bennett’s office, in the old rat hole
at No. 20 Wall street, where they count their pennies, and find that
they have sold quite a large number of _Heralds_. They then drink some
water and eat some ginger nuts, for their breakfasts, and go down Broad
street, and enter every store on either side, and meet with great
success. John then takes South street, and Bennett Front street, from
the Battery to Fulton street, and afterwards take Water and Pearl
streets, and then they canvass either side of Wall street, and sell all
their _Heralds_, and go to a Restaurant and get something to eat, and
separate in the afternoon in high spirits. John then got some boys in
the Fourteenth Ward to sell the _Herald_, and in ten days Bennett had
about $40 surplus, and begins to put on aristocratic airs, and domineer
over Johnny Kelly.)
(To be continued.)
------------------------------------
_For the Alligator._
Wide-mouth shocking Alligator!
I wish you were a Boa Constrictor!
And crush within your awful fold,
The villains with our pilfered gold,
Who, with sanctimonious face,
Steal with such a pious grace:
They dance and dress and call it good,
Because it gives the hungry food.
But hold your mirror to their face,
And show them their sad black disgrace:
One robs the City’s golden coffers,
And then a mighty Fabric offers,
And tries to court a worldly fame,
Out of such an impious shame.
The temple thus to science rears,
That he may surely soothe his fears,
Lest his ignorance should be known,
And lack of knowledge shown,
And so the starving, suffering poor,
He drives them fainting from his door;
And tells them: (Oh! how very strange!)
The Mansion’s taken all his change!
And in his high, majestic wrath,
He kicks a female down to earth!
The mansion he will never give,
While one heir of his shall live.
See how this modern Simon Magus,
Blinds our eyes, and then deceives us.
Soon we shall see how very funny,
He’ll make his “Union” yield him money:
He finds it is so very pretty,
To have a Mayor made of putty,
That he can mould him at his will,
To make his son an office fill.
But lest Columbia prove too new,
He lays a wire the ocean through,
That he all Europe may invite,
To bask in his resplendent sight.
Oh! most happy England Queen,
When she can say: “I’ve Peter seen!”
Now see him cringe, and jump for fame,
To reach the scroll, to write his name:
But as he lives alone for fame,
My verse will sure preserve his name.