The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1876-01-15
NUMBER ~.

NUMBER az.
There was a time when lotteries were
very common things, quite legal, and by nc
means disreputable, and when very worthy
people bought tickets and made no secret
of the matter.
1t was a good while ago, of course, and
you would have to look long for the elderly
gentleman, who one night about dark,
walked into lottery Office for the purpose
of buying ticket. He had tight boots and
tight trowsers with straps, and the fur col
lar of his coat stood up above his ears, and
he wore that awful thing, stock, about
his throat, and he was in the height OF
that years fashion, and was regarded by
those who met him rather with admiration
than with the stare Of establishment, with
which we should greet him now-with
which, indeed, we should greet any of the
gentlemen or ladies of that year; the first
habited as above, with curly bell-shaped
hats upon their heads, and twisted canes
in their hands; the latter with coal-scuttle
bonnets, and leg of mutton sleeves, and
two straight breadths and two cores in
their skirts, which were short, and showed
low slippers and silk stockings, and with
long striDged work bags on their arms, and
big parasols over the big bonnets; before
which hung, for modesty's sake, curtains
of black or white lace which they called
wells.
Mr.. Rogers, for that was this gentleman s
name, stepping up to the counter, asked to
look at tickets. Perhaps he held the super
stition that there was luck in odd numbers,
for as soon as they were spread before him,
lie decided on the number seven hundred
and seventy seven; paid it's price, and
walked off with it in his waistcoat pocket.
As he turned the corner, the big poster on
the wall seemed to be written especially for
him.
"Capital Prize, ten thousand dollars.
Tickets five dollars each. Don't delay"
81 had dream that meant luck last
night" said Mr.. Rogers to himself; "and l
have a fancy that I shall draw the great
prize. That's splendid number"
Then he turned another corner, and spied
face peeping out of the window of a
small brick house-the face of Mrs. Rogers,
who feared that Mr.. Rogers favorite dish
was spelling.
"That reminds me-" said Mr.. Rogers,
ssJ ,,,nst not foil Fsp,oralda Tho luck
will be spoilt if one tells of the ticket;
and she would talk so much Of it-women
will talk so much"
So Mr.. Rogers drank his tea and said
nothing of his lottery ticket, which he hid
at the bottom of his trunk, brngling,
hair-covered thing with T. r. on the side
in brass nails.
But though he said nothing, his mind
was full of it; he thought of that capital
prize of ten thousand dollars while he ate
his breakfast; he dinsd off it; he dreamt
of it. He was schoolmaster, and while
ruling the boys copy books and setting
copies for them, he was so filled with the
idea, that all the boys who had reached Z
had Prize written for them, and all the
boys who had come to D had Draw, Drawn,
Drawing before their eyes, while those
with Us copied Tick, Ticket, Tick, Ticket,
all the writing hours.
Little Mrs. Rogers, who was much
younger than her husband, saw that some
thing was on his mind, but did not dare to
ask what it was. He tossed and turned in
his sleep, and scrubbed sevens on news
papers, and on the backs of letters, and
even wrote the magic figure on his nails
with lead pencil. And once, in a moment
of excitement, caused by somebody asking
the day of the month, said, with great
fervor:
"And l only wish it was the first of
next month";
"Why, dear?' asked Mrs. Rogers.
"Oh;" said Mr.. Rogers, "It's my-birth-
day, you know"
"Oh, yes; so it is" said Mrs. Rogers;
"but l never knew you cared for birth
days, my dear"
And Mr. Rogers did not tell her that the
lottery drawing took place on the first of
September.
1t was breakfast when this remark was
made; and Mrs. Rogers sat over the table
long after her spouse left, wondering what
sort of present she could make him for
his birthday. She had not penny of her
own, nor had she any means of earning
one; and to send a man birthday present
for which a bill must como in to him,
might not be considered delicate atten-
ton, even from wife.
"Idon't suppose l can give him anything
nicer than pen wiper or a pin cushion, u
she said with sigh; "but I'll do that, at
least"
And then she rumaged out her bag OF
odds and ends, black cloth and scarlet vel
vet, and few gold beads-gilt, rather
and hid them at the bottom Of her work
basket There were only three days be.
tween that and the first of September; and
when she had remembered the design for q
fine pen wiper-a butterfly, gorgeous with
black wings and gold eyes and body, sh.
set to work on it diligently; and needing
card for the center of the affair, peerec
into boxes and drawers, until, at the bot
tom Of Mr.. r. IS trunk, she found what sh.
wanted, yellow, dingy, humb-market
thing, with TT upon it, and made use of i
at once. Then sweetly smiling, and quit,
unconscious of what she had done, sh,
finished off the pen wiper with attenna O
gold thread, and hid it until the birthda,
should dawn.
On that day, the wonderful first of Sep
TENDER, Mr.. Rogers arose betimes; so dit
his wife. She presented him with his pei
wiper. He accepted it with kiss, an.
pretended to feel thankful, though it onl,
reminded him of his desk, his copies, tn
slavery of his life.
Now that the time had come, he felt sur
that he had only squandered money, tina
TT was blank. He dreaded the knocl
of the news carrier; the glance at the col
umn of the paper in which the prizes woul'
be published. He groaned and hid his fac