Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 1004 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

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On the one hand are seen clegant struct- ures and fino eo ge gees on the other the old-style homes of generations past, behind which are the ~ugged, sloping hillsides, just as they were left when Nature finished her work and pronounced ‘it good, The section referred #4 lies above One Hundred Fifty-fifth Street, New York, though, onc need not go as far as that: “ to find examples of what we are about } Yael ye to depict in words. The particular spot need not be desig- nated. Whoever the singer tras, it was evi- dent that she was unconscious of the notice she was attracting, or else, know- ing it, was doing her best to hold her audience. There was quite a little knot of peo- 'plé at thé corner, most of whom had opera singer might cavy, while the audi- | solved the mystery, but every recruit was puzzled at first, the same as those before him had been, and generally it was by asking the question that they were os lightened, In the crowd were several bicyclists. “What is the excitement here?” in- quired a wheelman who had just stopped. He was a stout, athletic fellow, clad. more for comfort than for show, as were most of those who, like him, had their wheels at hand. “Listen, and you will know,” one answered. . ‘Dannie Murphy’s daughter Nell—” And the voiee sprang into the chorus with full vigor and without effort, send- ing forth notes that <:any an amateur some ence admired. “Oh! you are ietening to ite mocking- “bird, are you?” the new arrival re- marked. “That’s what she is,” from another wheelman. “ With training of the ae t ‘kind, that girl has a fortune in her voice But, ‘where is she?” “Don’t you know?” asked the new- comer, , ‘ take it she ‘tp behind the fence; but, | wig is she singing there? ” ogee they fo we an opel ne: There one sec- : > you i ~ tion of t he fence, af ie end of the sec- tion, more the | ly, vital in about two 1d Oi) te no busi i ty hee 6 ae. . “ Very , I thank you. DO: es 2 @, but it ing cera Pw ‘a aie home know you “have | at an audience lip; 2. harn a] Frones however.” + of the ” 80 ca er side the fence here? rim MSto Re Ratings ies Gp ar Is Bia) | NY ORL ¢ a <¢ san? Se ga aS i <a ic yee y | a ; st bi “a ei hee ~ €omicboc 6 * hace here and=let»me show you,’ new * 1 : a i - Z c ‘Oh, yes.” 3 ' He pressed out of the crowd and to. be e the cor the oth ae ei td cite by him, 4 and t er to ‘20 But ev arent Was soup re bbon at first, and it was not until they passed oN eabf : section of the board fence that ——————— q . yOu. pill xt a. = | eae git 4) |} and -ignorant—two — anin Scorcher Sam’s Sweep-Stakes. ee There, on the bare rocks, stood a house, a structure of one story, and that story not so high as the fence that had been built around the humble dwelling. It was a dwelling of almost indescrib- able architecture. It was not of any of the recognized classes, ancient or mod- ern, but was peculiar to itself. It seemed to have grown by stages, as the family had increased in size, until there had come to be accommodations for all. It looked like what might have been attempted by a company of large school- boys in the way of a playhouse of more than ordinary size and importance. And there was the singer. On the rear “ piazza” of the shanty, the top of which gave her just room to work, was a'rosy-cheeked Irish girl. She ‘had her sleeves rolled up above her elbows, and was bobbing up and down over a steaming washtub, singing away while she worked, and evidently as merry as a lark. She was of full flesh, and looked. a picture of health and strength. Her hair was coal black, her eyes and brows the same, while her lips might have rivaled twin cherries of brightest red. Her complexion was one that any wo- man in “ upper circles’ might envy. About the time the two wheelmen looked in at the opening the singing ceased, and the girl stooped and entered a door near at hand. ‘Scott! but she is a beauty!” one of the wheelmen exclaimed. ‘A beauty of her kind, you are right,” the other agreed. “ We call her the St. Nicholas Avenue Nightingale.” “You know. her, then?” “Oh, yes; aftet a fashion. time of day with her.” “ Looks to me as if she is out of her station, here. Beauty like hers was not born to blush unseen.” “Better here than in a worse place, as perhaps you will allow. But, she takes her outings on Sundays, and is the belle of the Fort George resorts, when she is togged.” “T don’t doubt it.” At that moment the girl reappeared, and happening to look in the direction of the fence opening, saw the two wheel- men. A flush of indignation came over her face for one second; but, the one who had laid claim to having a speaking acquaintance with her, she smiled and gave him a nod. “Introduce me,” requested his com- panion. ‘“Can’t very well do that, seeing that I do not know you myself, ” was the re- I pass the i “My name is Phil Dixon.” “T have no reason to doubt that, but I can’t introduce you. I would not in- troduce any one to that girl, without knowing him well.” “Whew! you are mighty particular, it seems to me. What is she, anyhow? One would think she was in society, and ’| that we had to stand on ceremony in our | approaches.” “T do not know that she is not as good | as the best of them, only that s: he is. poor * +1147 &* - recognizing |. ? | Scorcher. offended for my not introducing you; Pes were real She flushed. “Sure, can Oi help it?” she donigndan' ‘“ AV dhey are foolish enough to be afther stoppin’ to listen to my schreech- in’, dhe more fools dhey, says Oi. a friend av yures, Mr. Bu—” “No, I do not know the gentleman,” was the reply, spoken before the name could be uttered in full. “ My name :3 Phil Dixon, Miss Molly,” said the other, lifting his cap and bow- ing. se and wondered whether it was a girl of flesh and blood or an angel, as I could not see you. You. have a. charming voice.” “Bah! go along wid ye fur blarney! Sure, ye have found out it is no angel Oi am.” | “Il am not so sure about that—” “No more av it, now, sor. Sure, and Mike was to hear ye a-talkin’ to me loike that, it was takin’ offense at ye he would be.” “I do not know who Mike may be, of course, but if he is your lover I would think he would be pleased to hear you honestly praised: What do you say to it, friend?”’ This to the wheelman whose acquaint- ance he had made. | “If you will take a friendly word of warning, you ‘ill not wait arownd here to see how acceptable it will be,” laughed the other. ‘‘ Mike is a. bad boy ‘vith his fists, and Molly here :s the apple of his eye. Well, good-day, Molly; go on with your washing.” ‘“Good-day to ye, Mr. Buckley. My respicts to Mike, and ye sec him. Don’t ye forget.” “All right, Molly.” . “T think I’ll remain a moment longer and see the play of those plum arms in the tub again, and hear another verse o2 your song, Miss Molly,” <a2id the young man who had given Lis .2ame as Dixon. “Ye will throt roight along about yure business, .s >hwat ye will be do- ing,” cried the girl, with a show of spirit. 1 was charmed with your singing, | Is it. “Av ye don’t, sure it is a dipper av hot wather straight from dhe boiler ye will | be gettin’, d’ye moind. Dhis is not a side-show and Oi am no frake!” F CHAPTER II. 4A CACTUS BILL'S BETTER. Sam Buckley laughed heartily, and his companion beat a retreat. “ Seorcher Sam” was well known to r. : Molly McGee, and was well au in her good graces. The other, however, was a stranger, , and not even vouched for by Sam. He met with a proper reception for his ad- vances. “ Ginger!” he exclaimed, “ but she has a temper of her own, I see. I hardly — think I will tarry to witness anything: more of ‘uc> performance.” | “And you Will do just as well not to. come foolin “ce ou have no call to be I couldn’t do that.” iM around here,” advised the “Oh, that is all right, of course; but I thought you would do it for a joke, being a fellow wheelies} Was not aware that _ a friend of the ed ati : aske a ot the a real name, Th men-—