e cool evening air, and let the fresh breeze visit my faded
cheek. I strolled up the main street of Yonkers, and as I crushed my
toes against the stones which then adorned that highway, I resolved to
call on my sweet friend Julia ----. Her gentle smile, said I, will
console me. She is not a Funny Fellow. We will talk together calmly,
earnestly, in the moonlight, close by the great river. I will sit as
near to her as her fashionable garments will permit, and forget my foe.

"We walked together--Julia and I. We talked of things good and true. We
spoke of the beauty of the nocturnal scene. Alas! a fearful, a demoniac
change came over the girl's face. She said:

"'Yes, my friend, we ought to enjoy this scene--for we are fine-night
beings.'

"I bid a hasty farewell to the large eyes and gentle smile. She was not
much offended at my abrupt and angry departure, for my salary is small,
my hair is turning grey, and I do not dance. But I was not entirely
discouraged. I resolved to give Yonkers a fair trial, and a true verdict
to render according to the evidence. So I frequented the tea-parties and
sociables so common in that wretched town, and strove to shake off the
melancholy that clung to me like the Old Man of the Sea. To my horror,
the Funny Fellow became multiplied like the reflections in a shivered
mirror. Men and women, and even young innocent children, became Funny,
and danced about me in a horrible maze, and squeaked and gibbered, and
tossed their jokes in my face. In one week I made five mortal enemies by
refusing to smile when their tormenting squibs were exploded in my eyes.
I felt like a rustic pony, who comes in his simple way into town on the
Fourth of July, and has Chinese crackers and fiery serpents cast under
his heels. One evening, in particular, they asked me to play the game of
Comparisons (a proverbially odious game, that could exist only in an
effete and degenerate civilization), in which the entire company tried
to see how Funny they could be; and because I made stupid answers, I was
laughed at by the young ladies.

"I became disgusted with Yonkers, and returned to my intramural
boarding-house in St. John's Park. The sidewalk near the house was in a
dilapidated state, through the carelessness of the contractor, who had
stipulated to pave it properly, but had not paved it at all, except with
good intentions. And therefore, as I came along, I first besmeared my
boots with muck then tripped my toes agains