"Not a cent!" says Flannigan, standing--hammer in hand, upon the top of the table.

"_Vaw's!_ you goin' thrun away and sheet me, _ah_?"

"Look here, my friend, you are under a mistake. I've just moved in here, my name's Flannigan, you never saw me before, and of course I never dealt with you!--don't you see?"

"Tonner a' blitzen!" cries the enraged baker, "I see vat you vant, to sheet me out mine preet, you raskills--I go fetch the con-stabl's, de shudge, de sher'ffs, and I have mine mon-ney in mine hands!" and off rushes the enraged man of dough, upsetting the various small articles piled up on the bureau in the hall--by _w.a.n.ging_ to the door.

Poor Flannigan felt quite "put out;" he came very near dashing his hammer at the Dutchman's head, but hoping there was an end to the annoyances he kept at work, until another ring of the bell announced another call. The Irish girl went to the door; Flannigan listens--

"Mr. Flash in?"

"Yees!" says Biddy, supposing Flash and Flannigan was the same in Dutch.

"Would yees come in, sir," and in comes the young man.

"Good morning, sir," quoth he; "I've called as you requested sir, with the bill of that china set, &c."

"Mistake, sir--I've bought no china set, lately," says Flannigan.

"Isn't your name Flash, sir!"

"No, sir, my name's _Flannigan_. I've just moved here."

"Indeed," says the clerk. "Well, sir, where has Flash gone to, do you know."

"Gone to be hanged! I trust, for I've been bothered all this morning by persons that scoundrel appears to owe. He moved out of here, day before yesterday; I took his unexpired term of the lease of this dwelling, having noticed it advertised, gave the fellow a bonus for his lease, and he cleared for California, I believe."

This concise statement appeared to satisfy the clerk that his "firm" was _done_, and the young man and _his_ bill stepped out. Another _ring_, and Flannigan opens the door; two men wanted to see Mr. Flash; he had been buying some tin-ware of one, and the other he owed for putting up a fire range in the building, and which range and accoutrements poor Flannigan had bought for twenty-five dollars, cash down! These gentlemen felt very vindictive, of course, and hinted awful strong that Flannigan was privy to Flash's movements; and a great deal more, until Flannigan losing his patience, and then his temper, ordered the men to vamose!--they did, giving poor Flannigan a "good blessing" as they walked away!

The family was about to sit down to a "made-up dinner" in the back parlor, when the bell rang; the Irish girl answered the call, and returned with a bill of sundry groceries, handed in by a man at the door.

"Tell him Mr. Flash has gone--left--don't know him, and don't want to know him, or have any thing to do with him or his bill!"

The girl carried back the bill; presently Flannigan hears a _muss_ in the hall, he gets up and goes out; there was Biddy and the grocer's man in a high dispute. Biddy--"true to her instinct," had made a bull of her message by telling the man her master didn't know him; go to the divil wid his bill! Flannigan managed to pacify the man, and give him to understand that Mr. Flash was gone to parts unknown, and--the grocer, in common with bakers, butchers, tinners and china dealers--were _done!_

But now came the tug of war; two "colored ladies" made their appearance, for a small bill of seven dollars, for washing and ironing the d.i.c.keys and fine linen of the Flashes.

"An' de fac _am_," says the one, "we's bound to hab de money, _shuah!_"

It did not seem to _take_ when Flannigan informed his colored friends that they were surely _done_, as their debtor had "cut his lucky" and gone!

The darkies felt inclined to be _sa.s.sy_, and Flannigan closed the door, ordering them to create a vacancy by clearing out, and just as he closed the door, ring goes the bell!

"Be gor," says a brawny "adopted citizen," planting his brogan upon the sill, as Flannigan opened the door--"I've come wid me _coz_-zin to git her wages, ye's owin' her!"

"Me? Owe you?" cries poor Flannigan.

"_Igh!_" says Paddy, trying to push his way into the hall.

"Stand back, you scoundrel!" cries Flannigan.

"_Scoun-thril!_" roars the outraged "adopted citizen."

"Stand back, you infernal ruffian!" exclaims Flannigan, as Paddy makes a rush to grab him.

"Give me me coz-zin's wages, ye--ye--" but here his oration drew towards a close, for Flannigan, no longer able to recognise virtue in forbearance, opened the door and planting his own huge fist between the _ogle-factories_ of Paddy, knocked him as stiff as a bull beef! Falling, Paddy carried away his red-faced burly coz-zin, and the twain tumbling upon the two negro women who were still at the bottom of the steps, dilating, to any number of lookers-on, upon the rascality of poor Flannigan in gouging them out of their washing bill, down went the white spirits and black, all in a lump.

Here was a row! A mob gathered; "the people in that house" were denounced in all manner of ways, the negroes screamed, the Irish roared, the Dutch baker came up with a police-man to arrest Flannigan for stealing his bread! And soon the butcher arrived with another officer to seize the goods of Flash, supposed to be in the house--ready to be taken away!

Such a double and twisted uproar in Dutch, Irish, Ethiopian and natural Yankee, was terrific!

Mrs. F. fainted, the children screamed, and poor Flannigan was carried to the police office to answer half a cord of "charges," and reached home near sundown, quite exhausted, and his wallet bled for "costs,"

fines, &c., some $20. Poor Flannigan moved again; the house had such a "bad name," he couldn't stay in it.

The Question Settled.

"Doctor" Gumbo, who "does business" somewhere along sh.o.r.e, met "Prof."

_White_,--a gemman, whose complexion is four shades darker than the famed ace of spades,--a few evenings since, in front of the _Blade_ office, and after the usual formalities of greeting, says the doctor--

"What you tink, sah, oh dat Lobes question, what dey's makin' sich a debbil ob a talk about in de papers?"

"Well," dignifiedly answered the professor of polish-on boots, "it's my 'ticular opinion, sah, dat dat Lopes got into de wrong pew, brudder Gumbo, when he went down to Cuber for his healf!"

"Pshaw! sah, I'se talkin' about de gwynna (guano) question, I is."

"Well, doctor," said the professor, "I'se not posted up on de goanna question, no how; but, when you comes to de Cuber, or de best mode ob applyin' de principle ob liquid blackin' to de rale fuss-rate calfskin, _I'se dar!_"

"O! oh!" grunts Gumbo; "professor, you'se great on de natural principles ob de chemical skyence, I see; but lord honey, I doos pity your ignorance on jography questions. So, take care ob yourself, ole n.i.g.g.e.r--yaw! yaw!" and they parted with the formality of two Websters, and half a dozen common-sized dignitaries of the nation thrown in.

How it's Done at the Astor House.

People often wonder how a man can manage to drink up his salary in liquor, provided it is sufficient to buy a gallon of the very best ardent every day in the year. How a fortune can be drank up, or drank down, by the possessor, is still a greater poser to the unsophisticated.

Now, to be sure, a man who confines himself, in his potations, to fourpenny drinks of small beer, Columbian whiskey, or even that detestable stuff, by courtesy or custom called _French brandy_,--which, in fact, is generally aquafortis, corrosive sublimate, cochineal, logwood, and whiskey,--and don't happen to know too many drouthy cronies, may make a very long lane of it; but it's the easiest thing in the world to swallow a snug salary, income, mortgages, live stock, and real estate, when you know how it's done.

Managing a theatre, publishing a newspaper, or keeping trained dogs or trotting horses, don't hardly begin to phlebotomize purse and reputation, like drinking.

"Doctor," said a gay Southern blood, to a famed "tooth doctor," "look into my mouth."

"I can't see any thing there, sir," says the tooth puller.

"Can't? Well, that's deuced strange. Why, sir, look again; you see nothing!"