aglow with bear's grease. Tuff's eyes were small and snappy. Tuff's nose
was flat and wide and snubby. Tuff's cheeks were big and bony. Tuff's
cigar was long and black. Tuff's lips were thick and extensive. Tuff's
neck was huge and short. Tuff's coat was a heavy blue one that did for
an overcoat, too. Tuff wore diamonds as big as his knuckles. Tuff's
scarf was red. Tuff's waistcoat was yellow, and every color known to the
spectroscope was employed to make up Tuff's copious trousers.
"Well," said Tuff, "I'm on deck."
"Thank you, Major. How are things looking?"
"Dey couldn't be better. I got t'irty-six tenement houses wid at leas'
two hundered woters to de house. Dey's two t'ousan' Eyetalians, five
hunered niggers, more'n a t'ousan' Poles, and de res' is all kinds. An'
every dern one of em's eddicated!"
"Educated! Really, you don't mean it?"
[Illustration: "WELL," SAID TUFF, "I'M ON DECK."]
"Eddicated! You kin betcher boots. De performin' dogs in the circus aint
a patch to dem free and intelligent Amerikin citerzens. I got 'em
trained so dat at de menshun of de word 'reform' dey all busts out in
one gran' roar er ent'oosiasm. I had eight hunered of 'em a-practisin'
in de assembly rooms over Paddy Coogan's saloon las' night. I tole 'em
de louder dey yelled when I said de word 'reform' de more beer dey'd get
w'en de lectur was done. Some of 'em was disposed ter stick out for de
beer fust, an' said dey could do deir bes' shoutin' w'en dey was loaded.
But my princerple is work fust, den go ter de cashier. So I made 'em a
speech.
"I sez: 'Feller-citerzens: Dis is de lan' er de free an' de home er de
brav,' an' den I give a motion wot means 'stamp de feet.' Dey all
stamped like dey was clog-dancers. Den I cleared me t'roat an'
perceeded: 'Dis is de haven of de oppressed, de pore an' de unforchernit
from all shores.' I give de signal wot means cheers, an' dey yelled for
two minits. 'Dis is our berloved Ameriky!' sez I, 'where no tyrant's
heel is ever knowed,' sez I, 'where all men is ekal,' sez I, 'an' where
we, feller-citerzens, un'er de gallorious banner of REFORM--' an' at dat
word, dey all jes' got up on deir feet an' stamped, an' yelled, an'
waved deir hats an' coats till you'd er t'ought dey was a Legislatur' of
lunatics. Oh, I got 'em in good shape--doncher bodder about me."
"Ahem," said Mr. O'Meagher thoughtfully, as he cracked his finger-joints
and puffed on his cigar. "You've done well, Tuff, excellent. Ah, Tuff,
there's going to be a meeting in the Cooper Union to-morrow night. The
people that are getting it up--er, well, I'm afraid they're not very
friendly to me, Tuff. The doors open at seven. Now, do you think the
proceedings would be interesting enough to your friends for them to
attend in such numbers as will fill the hall, Tuff?"
"Say no more, Mr. O'Meagher, dey'll be dere."
"In large numbers, Tuff?"
"Dey'll jam de hall."
"Early, Tuff?"
"By half-past six."
"Good. I think you'll find the policemen on duty there very good
fellows. You might see me to-morrow morning, Tuff, and I'll have
something for you."
VI.
THE HON. DOYLE O'MEAGHER.
(CONCLUDED.)
All bedecked with light and all ablaze with color, the Cooper Union was
fast filling up with the friends of Reform. So enormous had the crowds
in Astor Place become that, although the hour was early, Colonel
Sneekins had wisely concluded to wait no longer, but at once to let them
in. They poured through the wide doorways in abundant streams, while
Colonel Sneekins led the superb brass band of the 7th Regiment, done up
in startling uniforms and carrying along with it a tremendous battery of
horns and drums, to its place in the gallery.
Colonel Machiavelli Sneekins sustained an important relation to the
Reform movement, and at this Grand Rally of Non-Partisan Citizens in the
Interest of Reform, he had, with great propriety, selected himself to be
Master of Ceremonies. Colonel Sneekins was a non-partisan citizen. He
looked upon partisanship as the curse of the Republic, and in his more
enthusiastic moments had declared that if he could have his way about
it, any man so hopelessly dead to the nobler impulses of the human heart
as to confess himself a partisan should be declared guilty of a felony
and confined for a proper period of years at hard labor. What the
country called for, according to Colonel Sneekins, was Reform. The first
step in bringing about the triumph of Reform was to put all the offices
in the hands of Reformers. If the public wished to intoxicate its eyes
with the spectacle of the kind of men who would then administer the
Government, it had but to look upon him. He was a Reformer. As a
Reformer he was in possession of a lucrative municipal office, wherein
he was mightily prospering, and which for the honor and glory of Reform
he was willing to retain.
Colonel Sneekins was the leading spirit of this citizens' movement. He
had prepared the call of the meeting. He had obtained the 1500
signatures now appended to it, representing estimable business men who,
in observing that useful maxim of trade, "We strive to please," esteemed
it one of their functions to sign all the petitions that came along.
Colonel Sneekins had hired the hall and the band; had made up from the
City Directory a formidable list of Vice-Presidents and Secretaries; had
secured the orators, and finally had arranged for the attendance of a
sufficient audience. In perfecting these details he had had the valuable
assistance of other distinguished Reformers and non-partisan citizens.
Editor Hacker, of _The New York Daily Sting_, had boomed the movement
with great zeal and effectiveness. General Divvy, the ex-Governor of
South Carolina, who had grown wealthy reforming that State and had
thereafter naturally come to be regarded as an authority on all matters
connected with reform, had written an earnest letter commending the
rally as one of the most important steps that had ever been taken in the
direction of pure and frugal government. The Rev. Dr. Lillipad Froth,
from his pulpit in the Memorial Church of the Sacred Vanities, had taken
occasion to say that great results to the community might be expected
from the success of this patriotic enterprise, and ex-Congressman Van
Shyster, being interviewed by a reporter of _The Sting_, after
expressing his unqualified opinion that all political parties were
utterly corrupt and abandoned, whereof his opportunity of judging had
certainly been excellent, since he had suffered numerous defeats as the
candidate of each of them successively, emphatically declared that he
saw no hope for the city except in the cause this meeting was called to
foster.
No definite purpose had been expressed in the published call as to what
should be done at the Rally, but Colonel Sneekins's plans were fully
matured. The Hon. Doyle O'Meagher, the Boss of Tammany Hall, had
promised that his organization should indorse for the office of Mayor
the nominee presented by the Reformers. As to the identity of their
candidate there was but one mind among the Reformers. Who should he be
but that champion of Reform, the Hon. Perfidius Ruse? Mr. Ruse was not
an experiment. He had already served as the City's Chief Magistrate, and
had filled many remunerative offices with Reformers. Being of a modest
and retiring disposition, he was now holding aloof from the honors
sought to be thrust upon him. He had begged his friends to take some new
candidate, he had pleaded his well-known dislike of office and the
pressing demands of his private affairs. But, nevertheless, zealous as
he was in the Reform cause, he had consented to furnish a delegation of
500 citizens from his morocco factories in Hoboken to swell the Grand
Rally in the Cooper Union, and had given his friend, Colonel Sneekins,
an ample check wherewith to procure portraits and pamphlets presenting
to the public the features and the services of the Hon. Perfidius Ruse.
It was Colonel Sneekins's intention totally to disregard Mr. Ruse's
plea for rest from official cares, and as he now from behind the wings
contemplated the great crowd that was surging into the Cooper Union, he
rubbed his hands and gleamed his teeth with such intensity of emotion
that the Rev. Dr. Lillipad Froth, who was standing near by, felt his
flesh a-creeping.
It was certainly an extraordinary crowd. It had assembled almost in an
instant. Scarcely had the policemen taken their places at the doors of
the Cooper Union when a bulky, variegated young man stepped up to one of
them.
"Hello!" he said.
"Hello, Meejor," responded the officer.
"When'll yer open de door?"
"Air ye wantin' t' git in, Meejor?"
"Doncher know I got a gang to-night?"
"So ye have, Meejor, so ye have. Oi was hearin' about it, av coorse.
It's the Tim Tuff Assowseashun, aint it?"
"Now, looker yere!" said Tuff sharply, "Aincher got no orders 'bout dis
meetin'?"
"Oi have that, Meejor. Oi was towld that you an' some friends av yourn
moight be a-wantin' seats, an' Oi was ter see that ye got 'em."
[Illustration: HE RUBBED HIS HANDS AND GLEAMED HIS TEETH.]
"Dat's all right, den. Me an' my frien's 'll be along in about ten
minutes, an' dey'll be enough of us ter fill de hall, an' dere's one
t'ing yer wants ter keep in yer head, and dat's dis--ef me an' my
frien's don't get a chance ter jam dis house before anybody else is
'lowed inside de door, de Hon'able Doyle O'Meagher 'll be wantin' ter
know de reason why!"
Having thus delivered himself Tuff sauntered down the Bowery, and
presently from all points of the compass a tremendous rabble began to
pour into Astor Place and to mass itself in front of the Cooper Union.
Tuff himself reappeared in a few moments, and when Colonel Sneekins gave
the signal for the doors to be opened Tuff and his friends took easy and
complete possession of the house.
Meanwhile the Hon. Perfidius Ruse stood in a little room at the rear of
the stage receiving the invited guests of the occasion. Mr. Pickles, the
well-known Broome Street grocer, assumed a look of intense morality and
importance, as the Mayor asked him how he did and expressed his
gratification at seeing the honored name of Pickles--a power in the
commercial world--enrolled among the friends of reform. The appearance
of General Divvy put the Mayor in quite a flutter, and when the General
told him that he positively must consent to run again, and that he was
the only hope of the Reformers, the Mayor was much affected.
"I fear I am," he replied, with a mournful shake of the head, as much as
to say what a commentary that was on the absence of virtue in public
life.
Editor Hacker was equally earnest in his appeals. He said the Mayor must
come right out, and referred to a conversation he had had with the
President only last week, in which the President had confidentially said
he was as much in favor of Reform as ever. Dr. Punk, who stands at the
very head of the medical profession, informed the Rev. Lillipad Froth
that it was his deliberate opinion, should Mr. Ruse desert them in this
crisis, all would be over. Something like dismay was created by the
ominous remark of ex-Congressman Van Shyster that others might do as
they pleased, but as for him, his mind was made up. At this critical
juncture the Hon. Erastus Spiggott, the orator of the evening,
opportunely arrived, and upon being told that Mr. Ruse was still
hesitating, he boldly declared that the only thing to do was to take the
bull by the horns. Fired by the cheers elicited by this observation, he
proceeded to say that the occasion which had brought together the large
and representative body of citizens assembled in the hall beyond, and
waiting only for the opportunity to indorse the wise and safe and
honorable administration of Mayor Ruse (loud cheers) and to place him
again in nomination, would live in history. (Cries of "good! good!")
That vast and intelligent audience was not there to record the edict of
corrupt and selfish bosses, but as thoughtful, independent, and
patriotic citizens, free from the shackles of partisanship (loud
applause), they had come together to promote the honor and the
prosperity of this imperial metropolis.
Mr. Spiggott was entirely satisfied that among them there was no
division of sentiment as to the course that should be pursued to secure
this noble end. They knew as well as he, as well as any of the gentlemen
about him now, that the Reform cause stood in peril of but one
misfortune--the retirement of the great, unselfish, popular, and devoted
man who had already led the Reformers to victory. (Rapturous applause.)
He did not fail to appreciate the modesty that led Mr. Ruse to
undervalue his magnificent services to the city. He could well
understand his (Mr. Ruse's) desire to return to his counting-room and
his fireside free of the burdens and anxieties incident to a great
trust. But--and here Mr. Spiggott's bosom swelled and his eyes flashed
with a noble fire--he was not here to-night to consider Mr. Ruse's
feelings and wishes; he was here, as they all were, in the discharge of
a public duty. (Cheers.) That duty required of Mr. Ruse an act of
self-sacrifice. He must accept the nomination. He could not, he would
not dare desert the Banner of Reform. (Cheers.)
Mr. Spiggott paused, wiped his brow and his eyeglasses, and continued.
He might say in this small and select company of Reformers what it might
be imprudent to assert later in the evening, when he came to address the
great assembly in the outer hall, that the outcome of this meeting was
being keenly watched by the spoilsmen. They were a cunning and sagacious
lot. The one thing they most dreaded was the very thing this meeting was
going to do. He had the best reasons for knowing that Boss O'Meagher
mightily desired to nominate a candidate of his own at the Tammany Hall
convention. Who had been selected by this unprincipled partisan, this
arrogant and odious dictator (loud and long applause), he did not know.
But he was certain to be a partisan, a spoilsman, a tool of Tammany Hall
and its corrupt boss. Mr. Ruse's nomination to-night would deal a deadly
blow to that plot. Tammany Hall would not dare risk the defeat of its
entire ticket by nominating a candidate against the Hon. Perfidius Ruse.
(Immense enthusiasm.) Indeed, Mr. Spiggott had reason to believe that
Boss O'Meagher, cunning trickster that he was, would seek to avail
himself of Mr Ruse's popularity and would indorse the nominee of this
meeting. Under these circumstances it was folly to think of permitting
Mr. Ruse to retire. (Cheers.) It could not be done.
[Illustration: "OF THIS IMPERIAL METROPOLIS."]
Mr. Ruse was deeply affected by these remarks, and at their conclusion
he touched his handkerchief to his eyes and said he did not think it
would be right for him to resist any longer. Thereupon Colonel Sneekins,
in a tone of voice that highly distressed the nerves of the Rev.
Lillipad Froth, cried out "Hurrah!" and forthwith led the way from the
little dressing-room in which they were assembled out upon the stage.
The Reformers had been so busy bolstering up the shrinking nature of Mr.
Ruse that they had given small heed to the enormous concourse of
citizens in the hall. Indeed, Colonel Sneekins, having ascertained that
it would be sufficient in point of numbers for the purposes of a "grand
rally," had not bestowed a further thought upon it, so that when he and
his vice-presidents and his distinguished guests finally got upon the
stage and began to look about them, the spectacle that met their eyes
was as unexpected as it was bewildering. From the reporters' tables to
the remotest recesses of the gallery the hall was packed tight with a
motley mob, in which the element of born cut-throats largely
predominated. It was the kind of crowd that could only have been
gathered from the three-cent lodging-houses in Chatham Street. A dense
volume of tobacco smoke, produced from pipes and demoralized
cigar-stumps, choked the room. The evening being rather warm, all
surplus clothing had been disposed of, and so far as could be observed
through the hazy atmosphere, the audience was attired only in shirts. In
one sense it was a highly representative audience. It represented every
nation and every clime on the face of the earth. Had it been selected
for the purpose of showing the cosmopolitan character of the population
in the tenement-house district surrounding Chatham Square, it could not
have been more picturesque. Bristle-bearded Russians and Poles,
heavy-bearded Italians, dark-visaged Hungarians, and every other manner
of unwashed man had been drawn into this Grand Rally of Non-Partisan
Citizens in the Interest of Reform.
Colonel Sneekins looked aghast at General Divvy, and whispered hoarsely,
"There's been a mistake!" Drawing Mr. Spiggott, Editor Hacker, and
ex-Congressman Van Shyster about them, a hurried consultation took
place. It was quickly decided that retreat was now impossible and that
the meeting must go on. They were assisted in coming to this conclusion
by the chorus of lively and altogether friendly apostrophes that came
from the audience in cries of "Wot's de matter wid Reform? Oh, _it's_
all right!"
"Let's go right ahead," said Editor Hacker. "This is a democracy, and it
is not for us to assume that even the humblest citizen lacks lofty
aspirations."
Colonel Sneekins thereupon advanced to the footlights, and was greatly
reassured by the hearty applause which his appearance evoked.
"Gentlemen!" he said, and immediately a storm of cheers arose, delaying
for several minutes his further utterance. "It affords me pleasure to
propose as your chairman to-night the Hon. Cockles V. Divvy."
[Illustration: THE HON. COCKLES V. DIVVY.]
General Divvy came forward, and as he bowed and smiled in answer to the
wild welcome he received, the band played a few bars from "Captain
Jinks." When quiet had been restored, the General said that this was the
proudest moment of his life. He should not venture, however, to make a
speech. The occasion was one that called for a power of eloquence he
could never hope to attain. (Cheers.) He would, however, advert for one
brief moment (more cheers) to the significance of this great assembly.
He was rejoiced to see so representative a gathering of intelligent
citizens, drawn from every walk of life, brought here to consider how
best to fix and establish upon the government of the city the great
principle of Reform!
The roar of applause that greeted this declaration was simply deafening.
For full five minutes the audience cheered and shouted, while Sneekins
opened his lips and gleamed his teeth with such vigor as to compel the
Rev. Dr. Lillipad Froth to take a more distant chair.
General Divvy called upon Editor Hacker to read the resolutions, which
Mr. Hacker, having procured them from Mr. Ruse a moment before, at once
proceeded to do. The first resolution, being a declaration in favor of
Reform, was instantly carried. The second, which indorsed Major Ruse's
administration, was likewise put through with entire unanimity. The
third declared that this meeting of non-partisan citizens, anxious to
continue to the city the unexampled prosperity it had enjoyed for the
past two years, hereby placed in nomination for a second term the Hon.
Perfidius Ruse; whereupon, to the horror and dismay of the Reformers,
from all parts of the hall came a deafening roar of protesting "noes!"
[Illustration: EDITOR HACKER READS THE RESOLUTIONS.]
In an instant confusion and uproar possessed the house. General Divvy
pounded the desk before him frantically and screamed for order until he
was black in the face. Above all the din arose the shrill shout of
Colonel Sneekins, as he called upon the police to clear the room. In the
body of the house men were shaking their fists and waving their hats and
coats, and calling, "O'Meagher! O'Meagher! 'Rah fer O'Meagher!" So
unbounded was their enthusiasm for O'Meagher, so unanimous and
determined were they to listen to nothing but O'Meagher, and so fierce
and bloodthirsty did their devotion to O'Meagher appear to make them,
that General Divvy, warned by the sudden contact of a projected cabbage
with his mallet, ceased at once to hammer and picked up his hat and
coat. The Reformers about him accepted this as the signal of retreat,
and they fled precipitately through the door at the rear of the stage.
Of them all only four tarried in the wings, Ruse, Sneekins, Divvy, and
Hacker; and as they grasped each other's hands in sorrow and sympathy,
they saw the stalwart figure of Major Tuff mount the stage. Immediately
the hall was quiet.
"Gents!" said Tuff. "Fer reasons dat I don't see an' derefore can't
explain, our leaders 'pear ter hev deserted us and ter hev left dis
gran' rally of non-partisan citizens in de int'rust of Reform (cheers)
in de lurch. Dis is werry unforchernit, but we, as Reformers, must hump
ourselves ter meet de crisis. I nomernate fer Mayor of New York de Hon.
Doyle O'Meagher! Long may he wave!"
A cyclone of cheers swept the hall, and as it echoed and re-echoed
around them, the four stranded Reformers betook themselves away.
"O'Meagher said he would accept the nominee of this meeting as the
candidate of Tammany Hall," said Mr. Ruse sadly, "and I guess he'll keep
his word."
VII.
MR. GALLIVANT.
Bright and gay was the smile of Mr. Juniper Gallivant. Merry and artless
was the flash of his bright blue eyes. Brisk and chipper was the step at
which his dainty feet bore him along Broadway. Warm and impulsive was
the grasp of his hand.
Mr. Gallivant was a young man, surely not over forty. He was a little
fellow with just the slightest perceptible tendency toward stoutness. He
could say more words in a minute than any other man in New York, and he,
at least, always believed what he said.
Most men, I suppose, believe in themselves, and largely for the reason
that most men are but superficially acquainted with themselves. But Mr.
Gallivant had been on terms of long and ardent intimacy with himself,
and the implicit trust he placed in his own words was therefore as
surprising as it was beautiful.
Mr. Gallivant was born a gentleman and educated a lawyer. He had an
office in the Equitable Building, and, during his periods of ill-luck,
a large and paying clientage. For it was only when luck was against him
that he consented to practice at his profession. When it was known that
he was in distressed circumstances, clients flocked to him in large
numbers. Other less eloquent attorneys retained him to try their cases
for them. He had business in plenty.
But when fortune favored him, Mr. Gallivant didn't bother with musty old
law books. Not much. He spent all his time spending his money. He had
the most novel and ingenious ideas on the subject of loafing. He loafed
scientifically, and with great enthusiasm. He put his soul into it, and
when Mr. Gallivant's soul got into anything it straightway began to hum.
Mr. Gallivant's soul was in many respects similar to a Corliss engine.
Just now, Mr. Gallivant was in very poor circumstances--a condition of
things all the more hardly felt because it succeeded, and succeeded
suddenly, upon a period of bewildering prosperity. Early in the year
1888 it was observed that Mr. Gallivant's dark red mustaches were
curling away at the ends with a lightness and vivacity that they only
displayed when things were going well. The quality of the curl in the
ends of his mustaches invariably indicated to his friends the state of
the market. They could tell exactly whether stocks were up or down and
how much so. The sensitive rhododendron is not more surely responsive to
the temperature of its environment than was the curl in Mr. Gallivant's
mustaches to the tale of the ticker.