Farmer Stebbins On The Bowery.

DEAR COUSIN JOHN:         We got here safe - my worthy wife an' me,         An' then I looked the village through to see what I could see:         I rode upon the cur'us track with stations all up-stairs;         I walked through Wall Street all its length, an' saw no bulls or bears;         I patronized a red-nosed chap with manners very queer,         Who hadn't had a thing to eat for somethin' like a year;         I saw the road commissioners to work upon a bridge         A million times as large as that we built at Tompkins' Ridge -         (I'm told that they are makin' it, though maybe that's all fun,         To use the coming century, an' hope to get it done) -         When who should up an' grasp my hand, with face of genuine joy,         But Cousin Jeroboam Jones, my cousin's oldest boy!         I had not seen him years an' years - no wonder he looked strange;         His face an' form in some respects had undergone a change;         But then there wasn't a chance of doubt that that was him, because,         If not, how should he ever know that I was who I was?         We brushed our old acquaintance up, an' soon was at our ease,         A wanderin' all about the place, as cozy as you please.         It's nicer far, in foreign towns, than 'tis to be alone,         To walk with one whose blood proceeds from sources near your own;         A sim'lar temp'rature of heart, a sort of family ease,         Enables you to work your tongue as lib'ral as you please;         And so I found myself quite soon uncommonly at home,         Describin' all my business through to Cousin Jerobo'm.         He listened very docile like, an' hadn't much to say,         But what he did was vent'red in a satisfact'ry way;         He'd severed somewhat from his kin, an' sort o' lost the run,         But he recalled the Stebbinses, when mentioned, one by one;         An' takin' him inside an' out, our family scarcely owns         A relative more relishin' than Jeroboam Jones.         He's teacher in a Sunday-school, he told me, by the way,         Which has a room, above a store, that's open every day.         "For if," he says, "we come across a child that needs our care,         We cannot wait till Sunday comes - we join 'em then an' there.         An' if you want to see the way our worthy cause is run,         Come in an' take a little look - our 'social's' just begun."         The scholars hadn't come, as yet; the Superintendent, though,         Was sittin' at a table, like, an' bowed extremely low;         An' heard the praise on poor old me my cousin had to tell,         An' said he joyed to meet a friend of one he loved so well;         An' I talked back; an' for a time our converse did not cease -         A regular three-cornered gush of friendship, love, an' peace.         An' then he showed me how they run their "grab-bags" an' all such         (We have the same at home, you know, although not near so much);         An' then he had some val'ables on numbers that you saw,         With figures correspondin'ly, in envelopes, to draw;         I gin him fifty cents to help a cause I dearly hold,         An' drew a velvet hymn-book, with a clasp resemblin' gold!         My cousin pressed my hand with some congratulatin' jokes,         And said, "Ah me! the Stebbinses was always lucky folks!         But after all, their shrewdness is the thing that lets them win."         (Which made me proud, though I didn't see just where the shrewd came in.         But buyin' a five-dollar book at that unheard-of price,         An' helpin' of the cause meanwhile, was unsuspected nice.)         Whereat the Superintendent said, "You're lucky, I allow;         I'll have to charge five dollars for a chance to draw here now."         Whereat my cousin Jeroboam remarked, "If 'tisn't wrong,         I'll buy a draw for Cousin Steb, to help the cause along."         I shook my head, but he would do't; an' sure as I'm alive,         I drawed a good ten-dollar bill for Cousin Jones's five!         Whereat the Superintendent said, "You're lucky men, I vow;         A hundred dollars I must charge for every drawing now;"         An' fingerin' the envelopes, one opened - just a grain -         And I discerned the number 11, uncommon black and plain;         An' on the other number 11 by glancin' I could see         Five good crisp hundr'd-dollar bills a-waitin' there for me!         To make four hundred dollars clear, an' help the children too,         Was somethin' that would surely seem desirable to do;         With an unfailin' eagle eye, a heart that swelled with hope,         I watched, an' saw the very place he put that envelope;         I winked at Cousin Jeroboam, I counted out the cash,         An' drawed, an' had that card revealed almost as quick as flash!         Oh, sakes! - the second figure I had what I hadn't seen,         A tail that made a 7 of it! 'twas Number 17!         An' on them figures on the board there nothin' was, in fact,         Except a little pamphlet like - an anti-gamblin' tract;         Which hadn't any money wuth, an' won't be good for much,         Except to keep my older boys from playin' cards an' such.         Now Cousin Jeroboam Jones was buried in surprise,         An' walked a half a mile with me, an' helped philosophize;         An' says, "You come some other day - we'll try that thing agin:         We come 'thin part of one of it - the next time we shall win."         Then, nearin' to a corner, he took kindly leave o' me,         Because of some new scholars there that he must go an' see.         I give you this experience, John, but please don't tell it now;         Let Tompkins take the chestnut horse, an' sell the brindle cow;         An' gather up what cash besides I have a-lyin' loose,         An' send the whole of it to me for my immediate use.         Do everything concerned in this, in soft, secretive tones;         Direct it to New York, in care of Jeroboam Jones.                                                                                                                         A. S.                  *             *             *             *             *         A few days, and the following one arrived,         Which shows Sin's triumph sometimes is short-lived: