Mountains, many grand and beautiful views
have been spoiled by these nostrum and bedbug souled fellows.

It is worth noticing that the chief haunts of the city of New York, the
Central Park, has thus far remained unviolated by the dirty hands of
these vulgar advertisers. Without knowing anything about it, I have no
doubt whatever that the commissioners have been approached often by
parties desiring the privilege of advertising within its limits. Among
the advertising fraternity it would be thought a gigantic opportunity to
be able to flaunt the name of some bug-poison, fly-killer,
bowel-rectifier, or disguised rum, along the walls of the Reservoir;
upon the delicate stone-work of the Terrace, or the graceful lines of
the Bow Bridge; to nail up a tin sign on every other tree, to stick one
up right in front of every seat; to keep a gang of young wretches
thrusting pamphlet or handbill into every person's palm that enters the
gate, to paint a vulgar sign across every gray rock; to cut quack words
in ditch-work in the smooth green turf of the mall or ball-ground. I
have no doubt that it is the peremptory decision and clear good taste of
the Commissioners alone, which have kept this last retreat of nature
within our crowded city from being long ago plastered and daubed with
placards, handbills, sign-boards and paint, from side to side and from
end to end, over turf, tree, rock, wall, bridge, archway, building and
all.

CHAPTER III.

MONSIEUR MANGIN, THE FRENCH HUMBUG.

One of the most original, unique, and successful humbugs of the present
day was the late Monsieur Mangin, the blacklead pencil maker of Paris.
Few persons who have visited the French capital within the last ten or
twelve years can have failed to have seen him, and once seen he was not
to be forgotten. While passing through the public streets, there was
nothing in his personal appearance to distinguish him from any ordinary
gentlemen. He drove a pair of bay horses, attached to an open carriage
with two seats, the back one always occupied by his valet. Sometimes he
would take up his stand in the Champs Elysees; at other times, near the
column in the Place Vendome; but usually he was seen in the afternoon in
the Place de la Bastille, or the Place de la Madeleine. On Sundays, his
favorite locality was the Place de la Bourse. Mangin was a well-formed,
stately-looking individual, with a most self-satisfied countenance,
which seemed to say: "I am master