The Troubles Of A Mover
"Mr. Flash in?"
"Mr. Flash? Don't know any such person, my son."
"Why, he lives here!" continued the boy.
"Guess not, my son; I live here."
"Well, this is the house, for I brought the things here."
"What things?" says our friend, Flannigan.
"Why, the door mat, the brooms, buckets and brushes," says little
breeches.
Flannigan looks vacantly at his own door mat, for a minute, then says
he--
"Come in my man, I'll see if any such articles have come here, for us."
The boy walks into the hall, amid the barricades of yet unplaced
household effects--for Flannigan had just moved in--and Flannigan calls
for Mrs. F. The lady appears and denies all knowledge of any such
purchases, or reception of buckets, brooms, and little breeches clears
out.
In the course of an hour, a violent jerk at the bell announces another
customer. Flannigan being at work in the parlor, answers the call; he
opens the door, and there stands "a greasy citizen."
"Goo' mornin'. Mr. Flash in?"
"Mr. Flash? I don't know him, sir."
"You don't?" says the "greasy citizen." "He lives here, got this bill
agin him, thirty-four dollars, ten cents, per-visions."
"I live here, sir; my name's Flannigan, I don't know you, or owe you, of
course!"
"Well, that's a pooty spot o' work, any how;" growls our greasy
citizen, crumpling up his bill. "Where's Flash?"
"I can't possibly say," says Flannigan.
"You can't?"
"Certainly not."
"Don't know where he's gone to?" growls the butcher.
"No more than the man in the moon!"
"Well, he ain't goin' to dodge me, in no sich a way," says the
butcher. "I'll find him, if it costs me a bullock, you may tell him
so!--for me!" growls the butcher.
"Tell him yourself, sir; I've nothing to do with the fellow, don't know
him from Adam, as I've already told you," says Flannigan, closing the
door--the "greasy citizen" walking down the steps muttering thoughts
that breathe and words that burn!
Flannigan had just elevated himself upon the top of the centre table, to
hang up Mrs. F.'s portrait upon the parlor wall, when another ring was
heard of the bell. He called to his little daughter to open the door and
see what was wanted.
"Is your fadder in, ah?"
"Yes, sir, I'll call him," says the child, but before she could reach
the parlor, a burly Dutch baker marches in.
"Goot mornin', I bro't de pills in."
"Pills?" says Flannigan.
"Yaw, for de prets," continues the baker; "nine tollars foof'ey cents. I
vos heert you was movin', so I tink maybees you was run away."
"Mistake, sir, I don't owe you a cent; never bought bread of you!"
"Vaw's! Tonner a' blitzen!--don't owes me!"
"Not a cent!" says Flannigan, standing--hammer in hand, upon the top of
the table.
"Vaw's! you goin' thrun away and sheet me, ah?"
"Look here, my friend, you are under a mistake. I've just moved in
here, my name's Flannigan, you never saw me before, and of course I
never dealt with you!--don't you see?"
"Tonner a' blitzen!" cries the enraged baker, "I see vat you vant, to
sheet me out mine preet, you raskills--I go fetch the con-stabl's, de
shudge, de sher'ffs, and I have mine mon-ney in mine hands!" and off
rushes the enraged man of dough, upsetting the various small articles
piled up on the bureau in the hall--by wanging to the door.
Poor Flannigan felt quite "put out;" he came very near dashing his
hammer at the Dutchman's head, but hoping there was an end to the
annoyances he kept at work, until another ring of the bell announced
another call. The Irish girl went to the door; Flannigan listens--
"Mr. Flash in?"
"Yees!" says Biddy, supposing Flash and Flannigan was the same in Dutch.
"Would yees come in, sir," and in comes the young man.
"Good morning, sir," quoth he; "I've called as you requested sir, with
the bill of that china set, &c."
"Mistake, sir--I've bought no china set, lately," says Flannigan.
"Isn't your name Flash, sir!"
"No, sir, my name's Flannigan. I've just moved here."
"Indeed," says the clerk. "Well, sir, where has Flash gone to, do you
know."
"Gone to be hanged! I trust, for I've been bothered all this morning by
persons that scoundrel appears to owe. He moved out of here, day before
yesterday; I took his unexpired term of the lease of this dwelling,
having noticed it advertised, gave the fellow a bonus for his lease, and
he cleared for California, I believe."
This concise statement appeared to satisfy the clerk that his "firm" was
done, and the young man and his bill stepped out. Another ring,
and Flannigan opens the door; two men wanted to see Mr. Flash; he had
been buying some tin-ware of one, and the other he owed for putting up a
fire range in the building, and which range and accoutrements poor
Flannigan had bought for twenty-five dollars, cash down! These gentlemen
felt very vindictive, of course, and hinted awful strong that Flannigan
was privy to Flash's movements; and a great deal more, until Flannigan
losing his patience, and then his temper, ordered the men to
vamose!--they did, giving poor Flannigan a "good blessing" as they
walked away!
The family was about to sit down to a "made-up dinner" in the back
parlor, when the bell rang; the Irish girl answered the call, and
returned with a bill of sundry groceries, handed in by a man at the
door.
"Tell him Mr. Flash has gone--left--don't know him, and don't want to
know him, or have any thing to do with him or his bill!"
The girl carried back the bill; presently Flannigan hears a muss in
the hall, he gets up and goes out; there was Biddy and the grocer's man
in a high dispute. Biddy--"true to her instinct," had made a bull of her
message by telling the man her master didn't know him; go to the divil
wid his bill! Flannigan managed to pacify the man, and give him to
understand that Mr. Flash was gone to parts unknown, and--the grocer, in
common with bakers, butchers, tinners and china dealers--were done!
But now came the tug of war; two "colored ladies" made their appearance,
for a small bill of seven dollars, for washing and ironing the dickeys
and fine linen of the Flashes.
"An' de fac am," says the one, "we's bound to hab de money, shuah!"
It did not seem to take when Flannigan informed his colored friends
that they were surely done, as their debtor had "cut his lucky" and
gone!
The darkies felt inclined to be sassy, and Flannigan closed the door,
ordering them to create a vacancy by clearing out, and just as he closed
the door, ring goes the bell!
"Be gor," says a brawny "adopted citizen," planting his brogan upon the
sill, as Flannigan opened the door--"I've come wid me coz-zin to git
her wages, ye's owin' her!"
"Me? Owe you?" cries poor Flannigan.
"Igh!" says Paddy, trying to push his way into the hall.
"Stand back, you scoundrel!" cries Flannigan.
"Scoun-thril!" roars the outraged "adopted citizen."
"Stand back, you infernal ruffian!" exclaims Flannigan, as Paddy makes a
rush to grab him.
"Give me me coz-zin's wages, ye--ye--" but here his oration drew towards
a close, for Flannigan, no longer able to recognise virtue in
forbearance, opened the door and planting his own huge fist between the
ogle-factories of Paddy, knocked him as stiff as a bull beef! Falling,
Paddy carried away his red-faced burly coz-zin, and the twain tumbling
upon the two negro women who were still at the bottom of the steps,
dilating, to any number of lookers-on, upon the rascality of poor
Flannigan in gouging them out of their washing bill, down went the white
spirits and black, all in a lump.
Here was a row! A mob gathered; "the people in that house" were
denounced in all manner of ways, the negroes screamed, the Irish roared,
the Dutch baker came up with a police-man to arrest Flannigan for
stealing his bread! And soon the butcher arrived with another officer to
seize the goods of Flash, supposed to be in the house--ready to be taken
away!
Such a double and twisted uproar in Dutch, Irish, Ethiopian and natural
Yankee, was terrific!
Mrs. F. fainted, the children screamed, and poor Flannigan was carried
to the police office to answer half a cord of "charges," and reached
home near sundown, quite exhausted, and his wallet bled for "costs,"
fines, &c., some $20. Poor Flannigan moved again; the house had such a
"bad name," he couldn't stay in it.
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