Having spent a large share of my money, I concluded to start in some business with the remainder, make a good living and marry Tillie. A saloon on Broadway seemed a good investment. Well, as a saloon proprietor I was a dismal failure. It was nothing but woe and misery. Every one robbed me right and left. I got into debt, lost all my respectable friends, broke my engagement with Tillie, and married another girl; and that wife put the finishing touch on the whole business. Annie was her name. She was very pretty, with blue eyes, light hair, and petite figure. How innocent and childish in her ways! She could make me believe almost anything. I had more rows on her account than a prize-fighter could conveniently attend to. If we went on the street-cars, to the theatre, or into a restaurant, there would be trouble with some one in short order. It made no difference where we lived, it would be the same old program; the first two days all would be lovely, until she got acquainted with the neighbours, and then war would be declared. And I, like a fool, believed her to be in the right. As regards her education, it was much below the average standard. What she lacked in that respect, however, was counterbalanced by her ingenuity in inventing lies. It took a long time for me to discover her talent in that line. Her fictions were not overdone; they were simply just good enough to believe. Becoming disgusted with the saloon business, I concluded to sell out at any price. I was in debt, head over heels, and what little money was taken in was stolen by the barkeeper. I was offered four hundred and fifty dollars for the place and accepted it. It cost me twelve hundred. I made a great mistake in not insisting upon having my little angel of a wife included in the sale, but it required a few more years' time for me to become fully acquainted with all her virtues. She certainly was a terror. As a diversion she would have a fit of hysterics. I was not well posted on that female peculiarity. At first, I was badly scared and did some lively petting and nursing. Finally, the thing became rather monotonous, so that when she felt like thumping her head against the door or bed-post, I would go to sleep and let her amuse herself to her heart's content. She recovered muck quicker, as I found out by experience. Taking a dose of laudanum was also a favourite trick, but, unfortunately, she never took an effectual one. CHAPTER XVII THE NEW YORK DRAFT RIOTS