AT THE STOCK EXCHANGE.--THE ENGAGEMENT.--FIRE IN THE
SHECARGO UNIYUN DEPOT.--A OFFER FROM JAY GOULD.
This mornin noose was sorter dull, so the city edittur sent me down to
the Stock Exchange for to write up the anticks of the Bulls and Bares.
Wen I got down there I guess the annymiles hadn't got round, but there
keepers was purty numerous, and made a good deel more noise than they
would theirselves. I was showd up to the visters gallary, so as I
culd get a good vue of the fite wot was goin on tween the grangers and
coalers. The way they do there fitin puts me in mind of wen we use-ter
go to skule, cos they chew up a lot of paper, and make spit balls outer
it, and then paste each other on the eyes with them. Jay Gould is the
name of a littel bit of a feller, he aint much in size, but he's hale
columby wen it comes rite down to spit ball fites, cos he pasted old
Russel Sage and Vandybilt outer ther boots, hittin fare in the eyes
every time.
Wen they was gettin purty well tired out, a lot of fellers wot was
“hit,” cum out, and the other formed rings round them and sung a song
wot sounded like it was maid up of five 8s and three 1/4 s. I shuld
think theyd be ashamed of theirselves, grate big men, spendin there time
playin a game wot Boys, as big as me, wuldn't do for a nickel. I seen
they was disgracin us, New Yorkers, so I thot it was time to put a stop
to it, and bring em down to bisness, so I sung out orful loud:
“Gintelmin: Thurs a big fire in the Uniyun Depot in Sheecargo.” Then
they all looked up to see who was talkin, and reckernized me, as
connected with the _Buster_. You'd dide, to see em flyin round; the
fellers wot do the bullin was purty neer crazey, coverin up there
stocks, with margin's. Stocks come flyin down, like litenin, and the
barish porshun of the compenney, was makin a immense pile of munney.
The country lams wot the Bulls and bares had been fleecin, so as there
wives, & gals culd have wool enuf, to stuff the footstools with, wot
they was makin for Chrissmas boxes, hurd wot I sed, and tumbeled to it,
and sold all the Western trunk stocks. I didn't say nothing till I
seen thay'd got a good deal onter the bulls, then I sung out agen,
“Gentelmen, The big fire wot, I sed, was in the Uniyun Depot, at
Sheecargo, is still burnin fiercely, in the heeter, wots lokated in the
seller.”
I didn't wate to say good by, cos the fire-like gleem wot gleemed at
me from bout a hundred pares of eyes, boded no good for the _Busters_
devil.
Wen I got back to the offis a note was watin for me, wot red:
Dare Devil--You've mistakin your callin. A sensashunalist
like yurself orter stick to the spesshialty bisness. If
you'll quit the noosepa-per perfesshun, I'll form a
syndycate, and run you as a stock hammerer, and gin you half
the proffits.
Yours very trooly,
Gould.
I assure you, Mr. Diry, the temptashun was purty strong, but I thot of
my integrity and princerples, and rote:
Sur--I prefer my present persisshun of hammerin branes inter
the publick to that of hammerin stocks. Not all the
syndycates of 'Merica wuld temp me to relinquish my
onherabel con-necshuns with the _Dailey Buster_.
Yours trooly,
Devil.