The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 110, December, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 110, December, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
dishonest, and another haughty. At last he saw approaching a serious,
kindly-looking, middle-aged loiterer, with a rusty black suit and white
cravat,--apparently a poor curate taking his "constitutional." Our
friend explained his dilemma, and was assured, in the most courteous
terms, that the stranger would accommodate him with pleasure. Very
deliberately the latter picked up the guinea, wiped it carefully on his
coat-sleeve, and transferred it to his vest-pocket,--walking off with a
cheerful nod. Indignant at the trick, the invalid called out "Stop,
thief!" The rascal was chased and caught, and, when taken to the police
office, proved to be Bristol Bill,--one of the most notorious and
evasive burglars in London. Many like instances of false pretences are
traditional in Broadway,--where there are sometimes visible scenic
personages, like a quack doctor whose costume and bearing were borrowed
from Don Pasquale, and Dr. Knickerbocker in the elegant and obselete
breeches, buckles, and cocked hat of the olden time.
A peculiar hardihood and local wit are claimed for what are called the
B'hoys. A cockney, in pursuit of knowledge under difficulties, was
walking up Broadway with the hospitable citizen to whose guidance he
had been specially commended by a London correspondent.
"I want," said the stranger, "to see a b'hoy,--a real b'hoy."
"There's one," replied his companion, pointing to a strapping fellow, in
a red shirt and crush hat, waiting for a job at the corner.
"Ah, how curious!" replied John Bull, examining this new species with
his double eye-glass,--"very curious; I never saw a real b'hoy before. I
should like to hear him speak."
"Then, why don't you talk to him?"
"I don't know what to say."
"Ask him the way to Laight Street."
The inquisitive traveller crossed the street, and, deferentially
approaching the new genus, lisped, "Ha--ah--how d' do, ha? I want to go
to Laight Street."
"Then why in hell don't you go?" loudly and gruffly asks the b'hoy.
Cockney nervously rejoined his friend, saying,--"Very curious, the
Broadway b'hoys!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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