Nix has a sister married to a wealthy leather merchant, whose place of
business is in that odoriferous part of New York city called The Swamp.
She is very beautiful, so we call her the _Swamp Angel_, and her
husband's counting-house, _Araby the Blest_. Her children we have
christened _Findings_, the youngest being always spoken of as the
_last_. We have numerous jokes, of course, about the _cobbler sticking
to his last_, the _best quality of calf_, and so on. She is very
good-natured, and enjoys our badinage heartily, having a healthy vein of
fun of her own, which transmutes all the little events of domestic life
into the most refined humor. We like humor in a woman, or we should
rather say in a gentlewoman; her culture and the natural tact peculiar
to her sex, seem to eliminate any of those grosser particles which the
coarse sensibilities of a man would not detect. Humor is as fascinating
in a woman as sarcasm is abominable; it requires the very highest
breeding to make the latter quality moderately safe in the hands of
young women. For our own part, we would rather see a woman chew tobacco
than hear her say sharp things. However, this is a digression. Mrs.
Crofton, as we said, is very fond of fun, and in her house there is that
perfect ease and abandon which can only be enjoyed by well-bred people;
whoever visits there is at home; and a favored few, of whom the writer
has the honor of being one, are treated quite as _enfants de famille_.
If, on calling, we find the heads of the house from home, we know where
the claret and cigars are kept. Cicero, the negro waiter, obeying
standing orders, promptly serves up some repast, and presses the
hospitality of the house upon us with all the aplomb and grace for which
his race are remarkable.
We drop into breakfast whenever we feel so disposed, and invite
ourselves to dinner or tea as freely as though our friends kept a hotel;
indeed we jocularly call their mansion by various public names: "The
Crofton House," "Fifth Avenue Hotel," "The Shoe and Leather House,"
etc., etc. We have perpetrated more sheer, downright nonsense in their
saloons than any forty strait-laced country school-children ever
condescended to commit in their rural play-ground.
One day during the holidays, when some fourteen or fifteen friends had
dropped in _quite promiscuous_, and were playing all kinds of tricks, a
certain gentleman, imported from England, an officer in the Guards,
genus Swell, "pwoposed" that we should play the _Muffin man_. As none of
us had ever heard of this gentleman or the muffin business, there was a
general cry for light.
"Oh, its vewy jolly, I asshua yaw. We all sit wound in a wing, yaw know,
and one of us, yaw know, sings:
"'Do yaw know the muffin man,
Do yaw know his name,
Do yaw know the muffin man,
That lives in Cwumpet Lane.'
Then the next person answers:
"'Oh, yes, I know the muffin man,
Oh, yes, I know the muffin man,
Oh, yes, I know the muffin man,
Who lives in Cwumpet[3] Lane.'
Then he turns to the next person, and when each person has sung his
verse, yaw know, he then joins in the cawus,[4] until it has gone all
wound;[5] then, yaw know, we all sing together:
"'We all know the muffin man,
We all know his name;
We all know the muffin man,
Who lives in Cwumpet Lane.'
The game is, yaw know, to keep a gwave[6] face all the time. If yaw
laugh yaw pay a forfeit."
"The muffin man, the muffin man," echoed half a dozen voices; "let us
play the muffin man."
[3] This word means Crumpet.
[4] This word means Chorus.
[5] Round.
[6] Grave.
The proposition being carried _nem. con._, we all sat "wound in a wing,"
or round in a ring, a circle of individuals of every age from three up
to seventy. The Englishman, as head instigator, started the game, but
before he got half through his verse we were all in convulsions of
laughter; the next person took it up, but it was utterly useless to
think of collecting the forfeits; we were all, in spite of every effort,
like a party of maniacs reeling in our seats with merriment. There was
something so utterly idiotic and absurd in a large party of respectable,
rational beings, congratulating themselves in song that they "knew the
muffin man of Crumpet Lane."
The English swell was immediately made an honorary member of our order,
which is, as yet, without a name.
As we had all laughed our throats dry, Mr. Crofton invited us into the
next room to _see a man_, as the Immortal Artemus delicately expresses
it, so we all went in and saw the man. Some of us saw him in ice claret,
some in hot punch, and some in cool champagne. One of Crofton's
children, a maiden aged three years, whom they called Toney, as the
diminutive of her Christian name, Antonia, came toddling in with the
rest and said:
"Me, Nooni, want see man." Whereupon her father gave her a goblet of
lemonade. She just tasted it, and handed it back with supreme contempt,
saying:
"Me, Nooni, want banny wasser;" which being translated into English
means:
"Me, Toney, wants brandy and water."
The little voluptuary was satisfied with a glass of weak claret punch.
During this conversation, Bub, a patriarch of five years, who had been
looking on with a very patronizing air, now came forward, and laying his
hand on his sister's shoulder, lisped out:
"Oh, you tunnen witty sing, zats nice banny water." Then turning to us
in a confidential way, he continued: "She's a witty durl (little girl);
she finks (thinks) zats banny water; banny water make witty durls fick
(sick); me, big boy, banny water not make me fick."
We gave him a nondescript drink, flavored with every liquor on the
table, which made him feel immensely proud.
"Let us play at earth, air, fire, and water," said Mrs. Crofton.
"Very well, Toney," answered her husband. "You can play at earth, and I
will play with the fire-water." So saying, he filled himself a glass of
punch, and stretched his limbs in an easy-chair.
"I think my husband is the laziest fellow living," laughed Mrs. Crofton.
"I do believe if I were being carried off by wild Indians, he would make
a note of it in his memorandum book, to have his porter attend to the
matter next day."
Nix here interposed: "Dear, dear, these family quarrels are very
painful. Come, Toney, and help to amuse the young people. Earth, air,
fire, and water, whatever that may be, is the order of the day. How do
you play it, Toney?"
"You all sit round the room, and then one of the party throws something
at one of the others, at the same time naming one of the elements,
earth, or air, or fire, or water; then he begins to count one, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, and before he says ten, the
person struck must name some animal living in the element chosen."
"Well, but what do you throw at the person?" inquired Nix; "a bureau, or
decanter, for instance?"
"No, no; something small and soft, like a pair of gloves, or--or--oh, I
know, wait a minute and I will run up-stairs and get the baby's worsted
ball; that will be just the thing."
While Mrs. Crofton was absent, and she was detained rather longer than
her mission seemed to warrant, Nix, in poking about in his sister's
work-basket in pursuit of mischief, discovered a piece of white beeswax.
"Eureka!" he exclaimed, "I have it; we will play Toney a trick before
she comes back; we will make her think some one has broken her new
mirror."
Saying this, he advanced to a large pier-glass between the windows, and
marked on it a huge star with the white wax something like the
accompanying diagram, and then instructed one or two of us to make
lamentations over it when his sister should return. We had not to wait
long: in a few minutes Mrs. C. entered the room, whereupon we
conspirators set to work gesticulating, and talking over the supposed
catastrophe.
"Dear! dear!" said one, "how unfortunate!"
"How did it happen?" queried a second.
[Illustration]
"I really don't know," answered a third. "I merely heard a crash,
and----"
Here the lady came on the scene, looking quite flushed.
"I knew you children would be in some mischief," she said, "while I was
away. I suppose this is some of my clumsy brother's work. He never comes
into the house without destroying something."
"I'm very sorry," whined Nix, contritely; "it was quite an accident, I
assure you; but I wonder whether it could not be mended?"
"Mended! you goose," exclaimed his sister. "Who ever heard of mending a
broken mirror! It will take a pretty big cheque on your banker to mend
that, sir."
"I am not so sure of that," replied Nix. "If it is not very bad I
might----any way I will try." Suiting the action to the words, he
advanced towards the mirror in such a position that his sister could not
see what he did, and very deliberately wiped out the wax marks with his
pocket-handkerchief. The astonishment of Mrs. C. at this miracle knew no
bounds, nor could the gift of any amount of new pier-glasses have given
her more pleasure.
"Now, then, all take your seats; we are going to play earth, air, fire,
and water."
The circle is formed; our hostess holds the woollen ball poised in her
hand for an instant, and then sends it flying into the bosom of a
grey-haired old gentleman, at the same time uttering the word "air," and
commencing to count rapidly, "one, two, three, four, five, six, seven,
eight, nine, ten." The old gentleman seemed utterly paralysed until she
had finished counting, when he stammered out, "Wh--h--h--h--h--PIG!"
amidst the roars of laughter of every one present. Of course he had to
pay a forfeit, and took his turn at throwing the ball.
No one who has not seen this game played can conceive how ludicrous it
is, or how much good wholesome laughter may be got out of it. When a
sufficient number of forfeits had accumulated, they were cried in the
usual manner. A good deal of ingenuity was displayed in awarding the
tasks as well as in executing them. One was that the owner of this
"pretty thing" should make an impromptu containing the names of every
one in the room, and was managed in the following style:
"Three Howards--Corsey, Toney, Archibald, and Nix,
Bub, Brown, Campbell, Jim and Jane have got me in a fix."
Another task imposed was, that the owner of a cigar-case should give us
a riddle no one could solve. Going into the next room, this person
procured a glass of wine, and holding it up said: "Gentlemen, I give you
'the ladies.'" No one attempted to solve this riddle. Another gentleman
was ordered to point out the greatest goose in the room. This delicate
task he set about performing in the following manner: he went to one
young lady and asked her to hold up her face to the light, which she
did, whereupon he imprinted a chaste salute on her lips; he then went to
the next, but she persisted in holding down her head. He then turned
round to his tasker and said: "Really it is impossible for me to
determine which are the geese if they will not allow me to examine
their bills." He was let off.
When all the forfeits were restored, even to little Toney's
pocket-handkerchief, which she recovered by throwing herself into her
papa's arms and hugging him round the neck, as the _prettiest_, and
_wittiest_, and _one she loved best_, we all adjourned to broiled
oysters and chicken salad.