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PICKED UP BY THE "FLAT.”

in the most miry part of the city. After the usual salutations he pointed to our white stockings (he himself being booted), and asked us if we had ever heard the story of Lord Chancellor Northington. On our reply in the negative, he told us that one rainy afternoon His Lordship, plainly dressed, walking in Parliament street, picked up a handsome ring, which, according to custom (in past, and I believe in present, times), was immediately claimed by a gentleman ring-dropper, who on receiving his lost treasure appeared so joyful and grateful that he insisted on the unknown finder accompanying him to an adjoining coffee-house to crack a bottle at his (the ring gentleman's) expense.

"Being in the humor for a joke, Lord Northington acceded, and followed him to the coffee-house, where they were shown into a private room, and over the bottle for a time discussed indifferent topics. At length they were joined by certain confederates, and then, hazard being proposed, the Chancellor heard one whisper to another, 'Damn the loaded dice! he is not worth the trouble. Pick the old flat's pocket at once!'

'On this the Lord Chancellor discovered himself, and told them if they would frankly confess why they were induced to suppose him so enormous a flat he would probably forget their present misdemeanor. Instantly, with all due respect, they replied, 'We beg Your Lordship's pardon, but whenever we see a gentleman in white stockings on a dirty day we consider him a capital

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pigeon, and pluck his feathers, as we hoped to have plucked Your Lordship's.'

"Now,' added Garrick, 'leaving you gentlemen to deduce the application, I do myself the honor of wishing you a very good-morning.'"

A STORY OF A HAT.

I remember a very amusing, good-natured fellow who had lived in New York, but at the time of which I write was a resident of Milwaukee and in the employ of the Adams Express Company. He was of the New-York-fireman order, and withal a lover of fun. One of his feats, for his own amusement and that of the good people of the community in which he lived, was to become an amateur actor and perform the part of Mose at the Milwaukee theatre, where he proved to be as expert in dramatic effects as he was known to be in "hitting from the shoulder." Among the laughter-provoking stories for which I was indebted to Jimmy Green (as I shall call him) was the following, which I have no doubt will be esteemed a suitable companion for Garrick's story of "The White Stockings:"

"I had determined," said Green, "to take a run down to New York for a few days and have a good time with 'the b'hoys.' Well, just before going to the dépôt I stopped to take leave of a friend who was in the hat business, and he said to me, 'Why, look here, Jimmy: you can't do a better thing than to buy a hat before you leave.'

378

JIMMY IN NEW YORK.

He was unpacking a case marked 'Bebee's A, No. 1, Latest Style;' 'And see,' said he, holding up a prime specimen. 'Just look at this, old boy; it takes the shine out of anything this side the Lake. Put it on and take a shy in the glass.''No, no,' said I, 'Mr. Jones; it won't do, by no manner of means, to try to palm off a Milwaukee castor on the New York uncles. No, no; I know better than that; I've been there myself, you know.'-'Why, what are you talking about?' said my friend. This is a real Bebee A, No. 1, straight from New York-just out-never been on a shelf or a head. Let me put it in a box; carry it with you in the cars, and when you get to New York put it on, and I'll bet you that hat no one will come within a hundred miles of guessing that you bought it in Milwaukee.' Well, you see, I couldn't stand logic like that, so he sold the hat and I paid for it. When I arrived in the city I made up my mind not to be of the sort who are 'taken in and done for' by the sharp fellows who practise on flats; so the first thing I did, after a square meal, was to get a full rig-out, bran-span new, and of the latest cut, from patent leathers to neck-tie; then, with my fancy stick, kids, and lastly the new hat, I set out for a walk on the Battery. No putting on airs, nothing rustic about me! I trotted along like a chap that had been there before and knew the price of tickets, and what a circus was-Barnum's or any other man's. Well, I was beginning to feel like an old New Yorker, and to make up my mind which theatre I would patronize, when I felt

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379

a slight push of my elbow, and, turning round, saw a fellow who looked just as if his landlady had told him his room was wanted for another boarder in case that little matter wasn't settled before night. 'Well, my man,' said I, pertly, 'what's up now?''I know,' he replied, 'you'll pardon a poor devil for thinking that you were the kind of man to give a helping hand to one who can't help himself.'—'Ah, indeed!' said I; 'thank you for that distinguishing mark of your keen perception,' bowing. So the fellow bowed too, and went on. 'The fact of the matter is,' said he, 'I was just on the way to put my watch-' Up the spout,' said I, interrupting him.-'No,' said he' to pawn it.' 'Oh!' said I.-Yes,' he replied. 'Nothing but'-here he began to snuffle-sheer want, sick wife, stranger in the town, doctor's bill.' suddenly changing his tone, he continued: 'Would you give a twenty and take the watch?'-'My dear fellow,' said I, 'it's no go; you're on the wrong beat; but I'll give you that Mexican dollar,' holding one up, 'if you'll whisper in my ear what particular part of my "get-up" led you to take me for a "pick-up" from the rural districts.' Holding out his hand and pointing to my head, he coolly replied, 'Your hat, sir.'-'Jerusalem cherries!' said I. My hat! and it a Bebee A, No. 1, transported from the metropolis to the provinces and back again, before a rustic air could give it a brush!"

Then,

I

CHAPTER XIX.

PECULIARITIES OF SOME GREAT ACTORS.

BUCKSTONE'S MANNERISMS.

HAVE before referred to the fact that actors are prone to copy such methods as strike their fancy in the manner of some celebrated performer. It may appear strange that a comedian should adopt the peculiarities of a tragedian, and yet such has frequently been the case. In 1836, when I first heard Mr. Buckstone and Mr. Keeley ("Little Bob," as he was familiarly called), I was struck with a peculiarity in their style of speaking and the quality of their voices that seemed to recall vocal effects very suggestive of Mr. Macready and Mr. Charles Kean.

Among the Irish may be observed two remarkable modes of utterance directly opposite to each other. For instance, one will commence a sentence with great rapidity of movement and elevation of voice, gradually concluding with a slow movement and low pitch. The answer to the following passage will serve as an illustration, if read after the manner indicated: "Well, Paddy, you sha'n't go without something to keep life in you; you shall have a little grog and as much provision