2
ljc imc3, New Ulcomficlii, )ci.
r ALL .
fTMfK season when the nights expand,
X Whose suns descrllie a narrowing are,
When Nature moves Into the dark,
Dim shadows of Heath's silent land.
Creep stealthily and slow along!
All day the murmurs of a breeze
Jostle among the forest trees,
And IIU tho air with nmfllcd song.
From yonder distant hills aseends,
Through which the morn a pathway broke,
An atmosphere of misty smoke
Mixed with the blue that there impends,
Into the dun and mellow sky
The playful swallows dip and dart;
Now In their reckless course apart,
And now in various groups they fly.
To-morrow, on the old gray shed
They gather twltterless and mute j
Another day wise men dispute,
Hut cannot toll where they have lied.
Now dimmer grows the butterfly,
Sweeps lazily on his lagged way.
Knowing that he hath had hisday,
And it Is time for him to die.
At nightfall dusky shadows come.
The cricket chirps his monody;
You hear the silver brook's reply.
But miss the drowsy beetle's hum.
Across the lawn the first dead leaf
Goes winding on Its devious way.
I hear an old man yonder say,
"How brief tho summers. Ah, how brief I"
THE MONEY FINDER.
BY COLLEY CIBBEIl.
BUSINESS called uio to New Orleans
in the winter of I83G ; I found the
Crescent City alive with people, although
the yellow fever and cholera of 1832-3
had nearly decimated it. It was now full
of life, animation, and business. Crowds
of people, of an evening, filled the ho
tels and theaters, while the practicing
pickpockets were reaping golden harvests
from their nefarious trade. I made it a
rule both from the necessity of the case,
and safety to carry very little money
about me. On one occasion, however,
thirty-five dollars mysteriously disappear
ed from my pocket. The fact I casually
toM a reporter of the Picayune, who
haying nothing of more importance to
write about, placed the following in his
city column :
"Our esteemed friend, Colley Cibbcr,
was quietly robbed of his pocket-book
last evening, leaving him minus thirty
five dollars. Colley is a philosopher and
bears his loss with stoical indifference."
I felt somewhat angry upon reading
the article, and in the course of the morn
ing I intended to call at tho office, and
have some serious talk with tho reporter.
As I approached the office on Camp
street, I saw my man talking with a gen
tleman. The moment he saw me he shout
ed out, only as reporters shout when a
little excited :
" Ah, here he is."
" Yes," I replied, "hero I am, and you
are the "
" No more words, Colley, this gentle
man has found your pocket-book."
" Stop, sir," said the stranger ; " not so
fast. I found a pocket-book. It is for
this gentleman to describe its contents.
I would observe, however, that tho insin
uation thrown out in tho article by the
writer, that you were quietly relieved of
it, is entirely gratuitous. I found it sir."
" Tho inouey, sir, contained in the
pocket-book was a twenty dollar note on
the Canal Bank, and a live on tho Plant
ers' Hank of Lousiuna, and a five on the
Mechanics' Bank of Philadelphia."
" Sirj there is your property." And
handing me the book, he remarked, " It
affords me much pleasure to restore it."
The appcaraucc of the man, well-dressed,
well-spoken, and evidently well-educated,
made mo hesitate about offering
him a reward. He seemed to understand
my hesitation, as he quietly remarked
with a smile :
" I see that you hesitate about paying
me for my trouble hesitate no longer.
Finding money and restoring it to tho
owner is my business."
I looked at the man in surprise.
" Your business ?"
" Yes, sir. But I have no fixed per
ceutage. 1 leave that to the parties."
" Then, sir, as tho amount is not a
very large one, will thut suffice?" hand
ing him the ten dollar note.
" Fully, sir ; tho five would have teen
sufficient. Good-day, gentlemen," and
away he went, whistliug an air from the
last opera.
" Well," exclaimed tho reporter, " that
is about the coolest piece of business1! I
ever witnessed. What does it mean ?"
" It means simply this that he made
excuse of its being his business, to take
the reward, nothing more.
So tho mnttcr rested, and I was minus
ten dollars, which I was fully entitled to.
My business in New Orleans ut that
period was of a commercial nature, and
which brought mo in connection with bu
siness men. A largo commercial house
met with a most serious loss. One of the
Cartncrs while at the post-office, dropped
is pocket-book containing some fifteen
thousand dollars in notes and checks. A
reward of ono thousand dollars was of
fered for its recovery ; with its contents
intact. On tho morning after the loss I
happened to be in the office. Be it un
derstood that the advertisement was for
the evening papers, consequently no one
was yet acquainted with the liberal re
ward offered for hnncsty. We were speak
ing of the loss, when who should enter
the store but the " Money Finder." He
did not seo me, as I was sittingsomewhat
back.
" Is Mr. Williams in?" ho asked.
" That is my name, sir."
"And this, I presume, is 3'our proper
ty, handing him a pocket-book.
" Ah!" exclaimed Mr. Williams, open
ing tho book. " All right, sir ; I thank
you sincerely; but how did you know "
" Your name, sir, written there, and
other papers."
" Ah, yes. Bob," calling the boy,
"run immediately up to tho Bulletin, of
fice, and stop the advertisement. Run
quick ! Now, sir, excuse me, take this
scat," handing him a chair," and I will
write you a check for the reward offered."
" Howard, sir ? I was not aware that
you had offered one."
" True."
The young man quietly seated him
self, took up a paper, and began to read.
"There, sir, is the check; it is the
amount offered for the recovery of the
book and its contents ; don't hesitate."
" Hesitate !" exclaimed the recipient,
" I never hesitate, for this, sir, is my bu
siness." Raising his hat gracefully, and twirling
a gold-headed cane, he went out, whist
ling tho same air ho did on a previous oc
casion. " What did the fellow mean ?" asked
Mr. Williams, " By its being his busuess?
He is not a pickpocket."
I then related my loss, and tho return
of the money, and we all come to the
conclusion that it it was really a very
mysterious piece of business.
I frequently met the man, but never
exchanged words with him, as I had seri
ous doubts in regard to his mode of find
iug money. And yet if ho were a roguo,
why not retain the money ? Here lay
the mystery.
One of the most fashionable ladies of
New Orleans, a Mrs. Whitney, lost a dia
mond ring valued at fifteen hundred dol
lars. It was returned to her by this man,
for which he received one hundred and
fifty dollars. Another lady lost a neck
lace equally valuable, and from the de
scription she gave of the person who re
stored it, it was the same successful find
er. Perhaps I was the only one who no
ticed tho extraordinary coincidence in
this man being the fortunate finder of so
much valuable proporty. The reason
probably was, that from the moment lie
made use of the expression, "it is my
business," I connected him with subse
quent cases of a similar character.
Can money-finding bo mado a business ?
If so, how' Here was a man returning
property to its owners, valued at thou
sands, for which ho received merely hun
dreds. He certainly was honest, but by
what peculiar process did ho arrive at the
result of their carelessness, making it the
source of his means of living ? My cu
riosity was aroused. At the theater, op
era, and other pliices of amusement I in
variably met him, he was invariably
alone. On the street he walked as if he
had lost something.
On one occasion I met him in the read
ing room of tho St. Charles Hotel. To
my surprise, he was in warm dispute
with several persons upon the subject of
the crevoixts, one of which had but re
cently occurred. I soon discovered that
he was not ouly well read but perfectly
conversant with hydraulics and mechan
ics. I romeniber ono remark bo mado,
which camo very near, subsequently, be
ing fearfully confirmed. He said :
" Tho time is not far distant when your
beautiful city will bo at the mercy of the
Mississippi Paver, and tho bend at Car
rolton will be the sourco of danger."
Tho very next day a largo dry-goods
house had its bank book returned, which
a boy had dropped in tho street, contain
ing eighteen hundred dollars. Tho man
who found it received two hundred dol
lars, and when the proprietor thanked
him, in addition, he quietly remarked,
" it's my business," and left the store
whistling, " There's no luck about the
house."
It was evident that the man was in a
fair way to make a fortune ; and his ex
traordinary luck at finding valuables,
while it astonished mo for its singularity,
satisfied me of his honesty. Tho mys
tery was, how came these things in his
way ?
Several years passed. I was once more
in my native city of Philadelphia. The
circumstances alluded to above had been
almost forgotten, and the man and his pe
culiarities were things of the past.
1 had some business to transact in the
Girard Bank; this was in the year 1841.
Just as I entered the main room, I per
ceived that something was wrong. Sev
eral men were standing at the paying tel
ler's desk, and as I heard the teller say,
" Sir, you must leave the package with
nic," I involuntarily stopped.
" Must !" exclaimed the other, the
sound ot whose voice caused me to start.
"Must, sir! There is no such word in
my vocabulary. I will not deliver up
this money," emphasising the word, " to
any man but tho owner. You are not
tke party who lost it, and have no more
claim to it than any ouc of these irentle
men. " But, sir, you arc a stranger."
" True, and being a stranger, I intend
to remain here until the owner of the
money returns. I found it on the pave
mont in front of your bank. You say
the money was drawn from it. The
amount is large I have counted it
$20,000."
" Is there any one here who knows
this man ?"
" Why ask the question ? If I remain
here here, if you like, in custody does
it matter whether I am a stranger or
not ?"
At that moment ho caught my eye.
A peculiar smile passed over his counte
nance, and without a moment's hesitation,
he said :
" There stands a gentleman who can
vouch for my being an honest man !"
Thus appealed to, I stated that, " I
know tho gentleman only in tho way of
business, and have reason to know that
he is an honest man. Nor do I consider
the question one to bo discussed. The
proof of his honesty is so apparent in
this case, that I am somewhat surprised
it should even bo questioned."
At that moment a gentleman rushed
into the bank in a state of great excite
ment, and loudly proclaimed his loss.
The bank clerk, in a very significant
manner, pointing to my " friend," said :
" That man has found your money,
sir, and will not give it up."
" That is false!" exclaimed the finder.
" I would not give it up to you, nor to
any man unless his claim was. fully
established to my satisfaction. If this is
the gentleman who lost it, I shall have
much pleasure in delivering it up. 1
found it, sir, in tho street."
" 0, thanks ! thanks ! The loss would
have been thy ruin. Give mo your ad
dress, sir. 1 am agitated now, 1 am una
ble to act or say whatl intend to do.n
" There, sir, is my card." And as he
turned to go out, ho very politely handed
mo one, remarking, " I should be pleased
to see you." And ho left the bank,
whistling, " I know a bank whereon the
wild thyme grows." I looked at the card
he handed mo. It bore the name of
"Thaddeus Middleton, United States
Hotel."
" Shall I call ?" was the first question
that I mentally asked myself. However,
my curiosity had something to do with
my inclination, and I determined to pay
lnui a visit.
We met. It was in his mom a room
neatly furnished, as he said, at his own
expense.
"I am somewhat particular," he ob
served, " and as I purpose to remain in
this city several years, ! had this room
fitted up to suit inc. There, for instance,
is my book-case. There is my lounge.
Landlords never have such lounges; ami
this is my choice of a carpet. Seo it is
covered with flowers."
" Why," I asked, " did you select Jsuch
a pattern'!1"
" Well, I cannot say. I love flowers,
but my timo will not permit mo to culti
vate them in pots, so I have them be
neath my feet."
" Not a poetical idea, I perceive, inas
much as you trample on them,"
" Truo, but the poets sometimes crush
flowers by wretched attempts to apostro
phiso them. Now, I can use my woven
ones, and imagine them the 'alphabet ot
angels.' A lady poet speaking of flow
ers, says :
'They write on hills and fields mysterious truths.'
Mine, you perceive, aro written bore."
"You are a philosopher."
" No simply a poet. I write verses
for amusement, only."
" When I first met you in New Or
leans "
" Ah, my dear sir, you anticipate me.
Say nothing of our first meeting. It was
a mere matter of business. There is
something more in this world than mere
labor and worriiucnt. I am still young,
and can now retire from business with an
income of three thousand dollars per an
num, for which I worked aye, sir,
worked I"
" But your business was to "
" Find money."
" You surprise me !"
" No doubt. In the course of ten years
I have realized, iVom finding money and
returning it to the owners, upwards of
twenty thousand dollars; thirty thousand
I inherited from an uncle.
" But' how is it possible, sir, to bo so
successful ?"
" System, sir, and localities. In Lon
don, I returned to owners upwards of thir
ty thousand dollars. In Paris, about
twenty thousand, and in Rome well, in
Rome I did less, but, what may appear
strange to you, I made more. The Pope
returning from a ride, lost a diamond
cross. All eyes were upon his Holiness
mine were on tho ground. No one but
mysclt thought of what might be lost in
such a crowd, hence my luck. Tho cross
was set with brilliants, so that in an in
stant I suspected who was the owner.
Nor was I mistaken. His Holiness pre
sented me with this ring. It is valued at
eight hundred dollars.
" Strange !"
" What my business ? Yes, it is.
Sir, thousand of dollars are daily lost in
large cities, which the owners never have
returned to thein. In no ono instance,
except small amounts not advertised, have
I failed to find the owner. When I find
a ten dollar note, I advertiso it so
with all amounts above that. In many
instances, as you know, I have returned
the money before it was advertised at
all."
" As I know ! How and where ! Ah !
I recollect. I was in Mr. Williams' office
when you returned his pocket-book. I
did not think you saw me."
" Ah, my dear sir, if you had served
ten years' apprenticeship to money find
ing, you would learn that the eye, like
the human voice, can be cultivated. I
did see you on that occasion."
" Have you heard from the gentleman
who lost tho money in front of tho Gi
rard Bank?"
Instead of answering mo ho opened a
small writing desk and showed me a
check for ouo thousand dollars.
" There, sir,, was a good day's work ?"
" It was."
" But I had still a better one last week,
uot in renumeration, befitting the pocket,
but a moro satisfactory one to tho mind."
How so ?"'
" I picked up a small pocket-book on
Arch Street, containing ten dollars. It
was evidently the property of a poor per
son. There was a memorandum in a wo
man's hand-writing, appropriating thut
amount to parties whom she owed. Land
lord, six dollars ; baker, one dollar and
fifty cents ; grocer, two dollars and fifty
cents. On tho inside leaf, I noticed the
number of a house iu Crcsson's alley.
Inquiring my way to the place, I found
the number it was a small house. Just
as I was iu the act of knocking, I heard
a female voice say, ' put it iu the Lahjer.'
This was sufficient. I knocked, and tho
door was opened by a decent looking wo
man ; the inmates, besido herself, were a
young girl and a lad. ' I called, marm,
in consequence of finding a small amount
of money.'
" ' Oh, sir, have you found it ? Ten
dollars, sir ; all tho money I had in the
world, and that owing to those who would
turn me out of the house if tho rent was
uot paid.'
" ' There is the money, madam. I am
happy in being enabled to save you
from the power of a merciless lamrford.'
" I handed her tho book mid left."
" That was indeed kind."
" It was my duty as a man und a Chris
tian, and moro it was my business. I do
not mention this for tho purposo of boast
ing of an act of charity, or in a spirit of
egotism, but when that poor woman open
ed her pneket-book she found twenty dol
lars." . ,
"Middleton!"! exclaimed, springing
up, " you are a noLlo fellow, and if I may
ask it aw u favor, permit mu to be ranked
niuiuig your friends."
r, J thank you. My vocation is
one t . were it generally known, tho
fow who know mo would propably shun
me."
"Shun you! Why?"
" What is money-finding but a inerc
rcfined namo for rag-picking ? It is true
I dress better than that class do, and car
ry a gold-headed cane instead of a stick
with a hook."
" I do not take that view of it."
" Thanks I accept your friendship
I am proud of it, for you aro a man with
out prejudice."
" Sir, you are mistaken. I am full of
prejudice."
" We are frieuds."
I cannot let the curtain fall on this
little drama in real life without relating
ono more incident in connection with tho
principal character. On walking down
Chestnut street with him a short timo
back, I remarked, as we were in the act
of parting at the corner of Chestnut and
Third street:
" You have not practiced your peculiar
art during our walk."
" Not to any extent," he observed ;
" still it has not been unprofitable," show
ing me a fifty dollar note which he had
been twirling about in his hand.
He saw surprise expressed in my looks,
and added :
" You trod on that note when you
were opposite the Masonic Hall, and I
picked it up. Such little pieces of paper
are not to be trampled ou with impu
nity. .Come, dine with mo to-day -nay,
you must so come along."
A Sell.
A CERTAIN constable, a short time
since, espied a tin peddlur persuing
his trade, and like a pickerel after a min
now, he rushed at him and inquired :
" Have you a license to sell ?"
"No," replied the itinerant vender of
pots and pans, " I haven't."
" Well, sir, I'll attend to your case,"
says the Dogberry.
" All right says the peddler, " do."
The eager official rushes off to the
nearest trial justice and obtains a war
rant, and armed and equipped with tho
awful document, starts on a chase after
tho offending intincrant. Some time,
we believe, the next day, after a long
chase, the representative Yankee was
found, and hustled before the justice,
who read to him the warrant, and as a
matter of form, of course, asked him
whether he was guilty or not guilty.
" Not guilty," says the unabashed ped
dler. The justice and constable opened wide
their eyes to such contumacy. They had
not been in the habit of seeing such.
Not guilty ?" quoth the former.
"Don't you peddle goods around
here?"
" Yes," replied the alleged culprit.
" Well have you a license ?" asked
Rhadnmanthus, in " sarcastical" tones.
" Oh, yes," says the traveling agent.
"Why," says the justice quite an
other expression coming over his counte
nance " didn't you tell this gentleman
that you had no license?"
" No, sir."
" Yes, you did !" shouted Tipstaff.
" No, 1 didn't,', quietly replies the ped
dler. " I say you did," vociferated the con
stable. "I swear I didn't," still persists the
peddler.
" Well, what did you tell me, then V
" You asked me if I had a license to
sell, and I told you I hadn't, and I
haven't a license to sell," continued tho
peddler, in an injured tone. " for I want
it to peddle with."
Nothing Like (jrainninr.
Nothing like grammar! Better go
without a cow than go without that.
There are numberless " professors" who
go " tramp, tramp, tramp, my boys !"
around the country, peddling a weak ar
ticle, by which "in twenty days" they
guarantee to set. a man thoroughly up in
the English language. An instance in
point comes from Greenville, Alabama,
j where a ' professor" had labored with
the youth of that people und taught them
to dote on grammar according to " Mor
I l is' system." During one of tho lectures
I the sentence, " Mary milks the cow," was
i given to bo pursed. Each word had been
parsed save one, which toll to Bob L ,
a sixteen year old, near the i'oot of the
class, who commenced thus: "Cow is
it noun, feminine gender, singular num
ber, third person, and rtowhnv Niry."
" Stands for .Mary !" said the excited pro
fessor. " How do you uiak that out?'"
"Because," answered flio noble pupil,.
" if tho cow didn't stand for Mary. Low
could Mary milk her ?'