The Science Of Diddling

Jeremy Diddlers have existed from time immemorial down, as traces of

them are found in all ancient and modern history, from the Bible to

Shakspeare, from Shakspeare to the revelations of George Gordon Byron,

who strutted his brief hour, acted his part, and--vanished. Diddler is

derived from the word diddle, to do--every body who has not yet made

his debut to the Elephant. We believe the word has escaped the attention

o the ancient lexicographers, and even Worcester, and the still more

durable "Webster," have no note of the word, its derivation, or present

sense.



A "Jeremy Diddler" is, in fact, one of your first-class vagabonds; a

fellow who has been spoiled by indulgent parents, while they were in

easy circumstances. Trained up to despise labor, not capacitated by

nature or inclination to pass current in a profession, he finds himself

at twenty possessed of a genteel address, a respectable wardrobe, a few

friends, and--no visible means of support. There are but two ways about

it--take to the highway, or become a Diddler--a sponge--and, like

woodcock, live on "suction." The early part of a Diddler's life is

chiefly spent among the ladies;--they being strongly susceptible of

flattering attentions, especially those of "a nice young man," your

Diddler lives and flourishes among them like a fighting cock. Diddler's

"heyday" being over, he next becomes a politician--an old Hunker;

attends caucusses and conventions, dinners and inaugurations. Never

aspiring to matrimony among the ladies, he remains an "old bach;" never

hoping for office under government, he never gets any; and when, at

last, both youth and energies are wasted, Diddler dons a white

neckcloth, combs his few straggling hairs behind his ears, and, dressed

in a well-brushed but shocking seedy suit of sable, he jines church and

turns "old fogie," carries around the plate, does chores for the parson,

becomes generally useful to the whole congregation, and finally shuffles

off his mortal coil, and ends his eventful and useless life in the most

becoming manner.



Cities are the only fields subservient to the successful practice of a

respectable Diddler. New York affords them a very fair scope for

operation, but of all the American cities, New Orleans is the Diddler's

paradise! The mobile state of society, the fluctuations of men and

business, the impossibility of knowing any thing or any body there for

any considerable period, gives the Diddler ample scope for the exercise

of his peculiar abilities to great effect. He dines almost sumptuously

at the daily lunches set at the splendid drinking saloons and cafes,

he lives for a month at a time on the various upward-bound steamboats.

In New Orleans, the departure of a steamer for St. Louis, Cincinnati or

Pittsburg, is announced for such an hour "to-day"--positively; Diddler

knows it's "all a gag" to get passengers and baggage hurried on, and the

steamer keeps going for two to five days before she's gone; so he

comes on board, registers one of his commonplace aliases, gets his

state-room and board among the crowd of real passengers, up to the

hour of the boat's shoving out, then he--slips ashore, and points his

boots to another boat. Many's the Diddler who's passed a whole season

thus, dead-heading it on the steamers of the Crescent City. Sometimes

the Diddler learns bad habits in the South, from being a mere Diddler,

which is morally bad enough; he comes in contact with professional

gamblers, plunges into the most pernicious and abominable of

vices--gambles, cheats, swindles, and finally, as a grand tableau to his

utter damnation here and hereafter, opens a store or a bank with a

crowbar--or commits murder.