The Democratic press. [volume] (Ravenna, O. [Ohio]) 1868-1901, 1885-09-24
THE LAST OF THE B'HOYS.

THE LAST OF THE B'HOYs.
1t is related of Thackeray that when
2 he was in New York he found himself
uncertain which way to turn one night
when he was in the Bowery, and, ad-
dressing himself to the first man he
met, asked:
"Can 1 60 to Blocker street this
waya"
Accident had thrown him in the way
of Bowery b'hoy, who replied, after
the manner of his kind: 'Well, /
guess you kin, sonny, if you berhave
yourself"
The Bowery boy, and, in fact, every
variety of the New York rowdy OF
twenty-five years ago, was picturesque
and in some respects admirable as COM
pared with the tough of to-day. The
rough characters of that day did not
find it inconsistent with their dignity
to work for their living They were
mechanics, painters, butchers, news
dealers, printers. hatters, venders, and,
in fact, followed any and all callings.
They even rendered themselves extra
useful by working in the volunteer fire
departnent-a service they were near
2y all very fond of. When they were
not at work they got their high silk
hats out and aired them magniticently.
carrying them tilted on one car. often
over u flannel shirt, and with their
trousers tucked in high-toppcd boots.
A tough was not n tough if he did not
have q high hat for evening and Sum
day wear. They wore tremendous and
incessant fighters, but their fists were
the weapons they preferred. They
drank and gambled, but they did not
necessarily steal, and it was not at all
beneath their dignity, or not at all un-
common. for them to court the pretty
girls of their acquaintance. marry
them, treat them we'll and support
them in comfort.
1t is astonishing how almost COM
pletely they have disappeared. There
are few yet to be found in Washington
market, and there are others over in
tho Ninth ward and in the old shipyard
district, but they dress very nearly like
the men they meet every day, and it is
only by little signs. the way they pro-
nounce certain words, the angle at
which they wear their hats, the black
silk scarfs tied in enormous bows that
they cling to like death, and such
trides, that one who used to know
fhem by hundred can now pick out
these few survivors.
One of them rode over to Brooklyn
IN the bridge cars yesterday. His big
silk bowknot. the red stockings that
were revealed by faring trousers and
aow shoes, his broken nose and old
school, smooth-shaven. typical Bowery
hoy face betrayed him. Even the old
familiar impudcnt curl of his upper lip
remained with him, and when he
spoke to a stranger he first looked him
over and then called him either ''cully"
or ''boss," according as to the persons 8
appearance impressed him. He was
itwo-thirds tipsy. A new broadcloth
suit and a massive chain and finger
ring showed him to be prosperous.
His wife, a substantial. jolly-looking
woman, walked by his side with little
girl of ten or eleven years beside her.
Her dress caught in projection from
O valise on the car floor and she had to
stop and free herself. The owner of
the valise apologized, and assis ted her
in disengaging her dress.
By the time the old-fashioned tough
missed his wife from his side she was
about ready to move on after him. He
saw that something unusual had de-
tanned her, and mistaken the cause,
put himself in readiness for fight
- 1t was amusing to watch him. He
first showed astonishing solicitude for
his wife's comfort, got her seated, saw
the little girl comfortable by her side,
and then sat on the extreme edge of
IAN adjoining seat, and adjusted his
hat so nearly on ono side of his head
that it seemed marvel that it did not
fall off. His eyes flashed. his upper
! lip curled. and he glanced at the man
with the yalise.
/ "Will l chaw him up, GussieP" he
whispered 10 his wife.
ssWho, Tom? What's the matterP"
the woman asked in some alarm.
'.WhoP Why, der galoot what
stopped yer. Give us the right of it,
.Gussie, an then rll let the sawdusl out
of him. What did he doP"
, Between his sentences he glared
most ficrcely at the man with the
.valise, who was reading paper. and
was calmly unconscious of the fighting
mans existence.
''Why. he's all right" said the wife
in still lower tone than he had used,
''he acted very gentlemanly" = and
then she explained what had happened.
Gradually tho old rowdy's face bright
ened up and a smile took the place of
the frown. He arose and went un-
steadily over to the man with the
valise and attracted his attention by
giving him q whack between the
that seemed hard enough to
loosen his teeth.
You've just had a marry escape"
said the old-fashioned tough. laughing
" marry 'scape, ber-
gosh. A minute moro and I'd took
you up and broke you over my knee. l
Thought you done something rude to
my old woman. Big but yer didn't do
no sich q thing, did you? No. indeed,
you didn't And yer wouldn't would
yerP Cause I'd chaw a man up fer
less'n that would, b'goshi'
After entreating the man to stop
right off and have a drink, and being
politely refused, there being nothing
drinkable except the East river for |
whoever should step of, the old-fash- |
Ioned tough went back to his wife and |
Insisted upon kissing her to celebrate
She was quite offended, or pretended
10 be, and called him an old fool
.sSit down, Tom." said she, sand |
quiet yourself. Your fighting days
are over now."
WELL" said tho ancient rowdy,
with the smile of a thoroughly good
man, II kin kiss the kid; she
can't help herself. Your kissin' days
ID. over. anyhow. Gussie, and the kids
ID only just beginning"
The little girl ran to him when he
to her, and eagerly climbed
upon his knee. 1t was evident that the
pugnacious old chap was kindly man
at home.-M y Sun.
Bob Ingersoll's Study OF Crime.