/> new order of things which was destined to turn out many a holder of fat

office, many a pat-riot overflowing with democratic patriotism, whose

devotion to the cause of the country was manifest in the tenacity with

which he clung to his place, were extremely anxious to devise ways and

means to keep the whigs at bay; and as the day drew near, when the

assembled Board of Aldermen should have their sitting at the City Hall,

various dodges were proposed by the locos to out-vote the whigs, in

questions or decisions touching the distribution of places, and

appointment of men to fill the various stations of the new municipal

government.



"I have it--I've got it!" exclaimed a round and jolly alderman of a

democratic ward. "To-night the Board meets--we stand about eight and

eight--this afternoon, let two of us invite two of the whigs, Alderman

H---- and Alderman J----, out to a dinner at Harlem, get H---- and J----

tight as wax, and then we can slip off, take our conveyance, come in,

and vote the infernal whigs just where we want them!"



"Capital! prime! Ha, ha, ha!" says one.



"First rate! elegant! ha, ha, ha!" shouts another.



"Ha, ha! haw! haw! he, he, he!" roared all the locys.



"Well, gentlemen, let's all throw in a V apiece, to defray expenses; we,

you know, of course, must put the whigs through, and we must give them

a rouse they won't forget soon. Champagne and turtle, that's the ticket;

coach for four out and two in. Ha, ha!--The whigs shall see the

elephant!"



Well, the purse was made up, the coach hired, and the two victims, the

poor whigs, were carted out under the pretence of a grand aldermanic

feast to Harlem, the scene of many a spree and jollification with the

city fathers, and other bon vivants and gourmands of Gotham.



Dinner fit for an emperor being discussed, sundry bottles of "Sham" were

uncorked, and their effervescing contents decanted into the well-fed

bodies of the four aldermen. Toasts and songs, wit and humor, filled up

the time, until the democrats began to think it was time that one of

them slipped out, took the carriage back to the city, leaving the other

to fuddle the two whigs, and detain them until affairs at "the Tea

Room," City Hall, were settled to the entire satisfaction of the

democrats.



"Landlord," says one of the democrats, whom we will call Brown,

"landlord, have you any conveyance, horses, wagons, carriages or carts,

by which any of my friends could go back to town to-night, if they

wish?"



"Oh, yes," says the landlord, "certainly--I can send the gentlemen in if

they wish."



"Very well, sir,--they may get very tight before they desire to

return--they are men of families, respectable citizens, and I do not

wish them, under any circumstances, to leave your house until morning.

Whatever the bill is I will foot, provided you deny them any of your

means to go in to-night. You understand!"



"Oh! yes, sir--if you request it as a matter of favor, that I shall

keep your friends here, I will endeavor to do so--but hadn't you better

attend to them yourself?"



"Well, you see," says Brown, "I have business of importance to

transact--must be in town this evening. Give the party all they

wish--put that in your fob--(handing the host an X)--post up your bill

in the morning, and I'll be out bright and early to make all square. Do

you hark?" says Brown.



"Oh, yes, sir--all right," responded the landlord.



Brown gave his confederate the cue, stepped out, promising to "be in

in a minute," and then, getting into a carriage, he drove back to the

city, almost tickled to death with the idea of how nicely the whigs

would be "dished" when they all met at the City Hall, and came up minus

two!



Smith, Brown's loco friend, did his best to keep the thing up, by

calling in the New Jersey thunder and lightning--vulgarly known as

Champagne--and even walked into the aforesaid t. and l. so deeply

himself, that a man with half an eye might see Smith would be as blind

as an owl in the course of the evening. But Smith was bound to do the

thing up brown, and thought no sacrifice too great or too expensive to

preserve the loaves and fishes of his party. All of a sudden, however,

night was drawing on a pace, the whigs began to smell a mice. The

absence of Brown, and the excessive politeness and liberality of Smith,

in hurrying up the bottles, settled it in the minds of the whigs, that

something was going on dangerous to the whig cause, and that they had

better look out--and so they did.



"Jones," says one of the whigs, sotto voce, to the other, "Brown has

cleared; it is evident he and Smith calculate to corner us here, prevent

your presence in 'the Tea Room' to-night, and thus defeat your vote."



"The deuce! You don't think that, Hall, do you?"



"Faith, I do; but we won't be caught napping. Waiter, bring in a bottle

of brandy."



"Brandy?" said Smith, in astonishment. "Why, you ain't going to dive

right into it, in that way, are you?"



"Why not?" says Hall. "Brandy's the best thing in the world to settle

your nerves after getting half fuddled on Champagne, my boy; just you

try it--take a good stiff horn. Brown, you see, has cut, we must

follow; so let's straighten up and get ready for a start. Here's to 'the

loaves and fishes.'" Jones and Hall took their horns of Cogniac, which

does really make some men sober as judges after they are very drunk on

real or spurious Champagne.



"Well," says Smith, "it's my opinion we'll all be very tight going in

this way, brandy on Champagne; but here goes to the fishes and

loaves--the loaves and fishes, I mean."



The brandy had a rather contrary effect from what it does usually; it

did settle Smith--in five minutes he was so very "boozy" that his chin

bore down upon his breast, he became as "limber as a rag," and snored

like a pair of bagpipes.



"Now, Jones," says Hall, "let's be off. Landlord, get us a gig, wagon,

carriage, cart, any thing, and let's be off; we must be in town

immediately."



"Sorry, gentlemen, but can't oblige you--haven't a vehicle on the

premises!"



"Why, confound it, you don't pretend to say you can't send us into town

to-night, do you?" says Jones, waxing uneasy.



"Haven't you a horse, jackass, mule or a wheelbarrow--any thing, so we

can be carted in, right off, too?" says Hall.



"Can't help it, gentlemen."



"What time do the cars come along?" eagerly inquires Jones.



"About nine o'clock," coolly replies the host.



"Nine fools!" shouted the discomfited alderman. "But this won't do;

come, Jones, no help for it--can't fool us in that way--eight miles to

the City Hall--two hours to do it in; off coat and let's foot it!"



* * * * *



The City Hall clock had just struck 7 P. M., the Tea Room was lighted up,

the assembled wisdom of the municipal government had their toadies, and

reporters and lookers-on were there; the room was quite full. Brown was

there, in the best of spirits, and the locos all fairly snorted with

glee at the scientific manner in which Brown had "done" Jones and Hall

out of their votes! The business of the evening was climaxing: the whigs

missing two of their number, were in quite a spasm of doubt and fear.

The chairman called the meeting to order. The roll was called: seven

"good and true" locos answered the call. Six whigs had answered: the

seventh was being called: the locos were grinning, and twisting their

fingers at the apex of their noses!



"Alderman Jones! Alderman Jones!" bawled the roll-caller.



"Here!" roared the missing individual, bursting into the room.



"Alderman Hall!" continued the roll.



"Here!" responded that notable worthy, rushing in, entirely blowed out.



"Beat, by thunder!" roared the locos, in grand chorus; and in the modern

classics of the Bowery, "they wasn't any thing else." The whigs not only

had the cut but the entire deal in the appointments that time, and

Alderman Brown had a bill at Harlem, a little more serious to foot

than the racing of the aldermen to get a chance to vote.