A few days ago when the blistering sun had converted the whole of New York city into one vast bake-oven, Nix called at our office, and proposed a flying trip to a certain watering-place. We will not mention its name for fear of incurring the suspicion of writing puffs. It was, however, sufficiently unfashionable to be tolerably comfortable. In order to reach our destination we took an early steamboat, leaving New York at six o'clock in the morning. With what intense satisfaction we became conscious of possessing lungs as we inhaled the cool air which had been washing itself all night in the great waves of the Atlantic ocean, or sleeping among the pine-woods of Delaware and New Jersey. There is nothing surely which makes one feel more grateful for the gift of life than to breathe the early morning air, laden with the perfume of salt-water. On this occasion the bracing atmosphere gave a relish to everything. The crisp broiled ham, the clam-fritters, and even the miserable coffee we had for breakfast on board, all tasted like food worthy of the gods. And as for our cigars (genuine Havanas) which followed the meal, their incense fairly sent us up to the seventh heaven of delight. But our business is to write on the Art of Amusing, and although an early steamboat trip may be one of the most enjoyable of things, it scarcely comes within the sphere of our work.

When we arrived at the hotel, we found the lady guests were in process of organizing a fair for the benefit of the sufferers by the great Portland fire.

Nix rushed into the enterprise with his usual enthusiasm; and by that evening, when the fair commenced, had fully qualified himself to start in business as a Three-sticks-a-penny-man. This plebeian pastime he had picked up at some English race or fair he had once visited, and now attempted with considerable success to acclimatize in America. His first step was to go to the village store and purchase a number of penknives, jack-knives, pincushions, tobacco-boxes, and similar contraptions. His second care was to cut half-a-dozen hickory-sticks or wands, of about four feet six inches in length, and of the thickness of your middle finger—that is, if you are blest with as spacious a paw as ourself; if not, we feel at a loss how to convey to your mind an approximate idea of the measurement. But suppose you take any healthy Irish day-laborer, and make his third finger the standard, not the part where the knobs are, but the spaces between them. Well, Nix cut six sticks of about the thickness of a healthy Irish day-laborer's third finger, in the spaces between the joints or knobs. He then cut a dozen other sticks of about the thickness of anybody's wrist, and about two feet long. Good! When he wished to commence operations on the fair-ground he selected a piece of level turf, and on one side of it dug six holes about the size of the late Daniel Webster's hat; these holes he half filled with sand, and in the centre of every hole he then stuck one of the sticks of about the thickness of a healthy Irish, etc., etc. Then on the top of each stick he balanced a jack-knife, pin-cushion, or some other object of more or less value. Now all his preparations were completed. He was prepared to receive customers. Standing in a commanding attitude, at a distance of about thirty feet from the arrangement we have described, he cried out in truly English style:

"Now, ladies and gents, ere yer are—three sticks a penny. Any lady or gent wishin to make a immediate fortin, and marry the being of his art on the result, have only to invest a few dollars in my establishment, and he will retire wealthy in arf a nour. Here, ladies and gents, look at these ere sticks" (holding up one of the clubs about the thickness of anybody's wrist), "hall you ave to do is to throw one of these ere at them there" (pointing to the pincushions, etc.); "hany article you knock orf is yourn, provided it don't fall inter the ole. Now, all I charge you for the priviledge orf throwin' three of these sticks, is the radicerlously small sum of ten cents. You are sure to win five dollars each time. Now, walk up; walk up, and take yer chance, and make yer everlastin fortin; marry the hobject of yer haffections, and build yer pallatial willa on the Udson."

Here a courageous youth stepped up, examined the whole arrangement minutely, and concluded to invest ten cents. Fortunately for Nix and the cause this youth knocked off a dollar jack-knife at the first throw. The consequence was an immense rush of patronage; indeed, the sport became so exciting that two similar establishments could have been kept in active operation. As it was, Nix cleared fifty-four dollars over and above all expenses for the good of the fair, and the benefit of the poor folks of Portland.

One of Nix's most profitable customers was a good-natured flashy young man of the wholesale dry-goods pattern, who appeared each day in some new shade of mustard-colored clothing, from the delicate yellow of freshly mixed pure Durham to the rich tones of stale German. He told us in confidence that he had intended to go to Saratoga, but the old gentleman and old lady (his father and mother) had insisted on his coming down with them to "this d——d hole;" then, suddenly recollecting that we had all probably come from chance, he added:

"Oh, this is a very nice place; first-rate; I don't say anything about that, only I had a party of friends going up to Saratoga, and they'll expect me; they know there's always fun going on where I am. It don't make any difference to me whether I spend fifty dollars or five hundred. I'm bound to have a good time. I appreciate anything; tha's—anything, you know—tha's got any wit into it, you know. Well, you know, there are some people who ain't got any idea; don't seem to appreciate, you know. Now, when I saw you throwin' sticks, well, I piled right in; I didn't care about it, of course, only I saw what you were doing it for, and I didn't care. Some people would think it awful vulgar, you know, but I don't care; that's the sort of man I am. Perhaps I shouldn't have liked some of my aristocratic lady friends to have seen me; but then down here, you know. Oh, I'd just as lief have given the money to the fair; I'd spent thirty dollars before in slippers and things, and then gave 'em back. I didn't want 'em, you know, only I like to see things lively; there's bound to be fun when I'm round."

However, we will not follow our good-natured friend through his long monologue of refined egotism; we merely introduced him because he showed us a variety of tricks, two of which we think worth recording in our book on amusements. On the morning after the fair, Nix and ourself, in company with the mustard-colored aristocrat, took a bath in the ocean. The aristocrat appeared in the water attired in a sumptuous bathing dress, smoking a cigar which he told us cost $800 per thousand; which, he frankly confessed, he thought too high a price for a man to pay for cigars in these times. He further stated that he relished smoking in the water very much. To our inquiry whether there was no danger of the waves putting it out, he replied by informing us that he could dive under water with a lighted cigar in his mouth without extinguishing it.

"D'you see that boat there?" he said, pointing to a small scow about a hundred and fifty yards distant. "Well, I will dive under that; you watch me, and you will see me come up." We thought there must be some hoax in the matter, and so kept a strict eye upon his movements. He swam out to the craft, gave a plunge and a kick, after the manner of ducks in a pond, disappeared, and came up on the other side, calmly puffing his weed. Never having seen or heard of the feat before, Nix and ourself were what the ancient Greeks used to call flabbergasterd. When he had enjoyed his triumph and our bewilderment for a few minutes, he showed us how it was done; simply by putting the lighted end of the cigar in his mouth just before going under water, that was all. He added: "I will show you something better if you will come up to the shooting-gallery after we get through bathing. Did you ever see a man ring the bell with his back to the target?"

Arrived at the shooting-gallery, our young friend procured a mirror which he hung on the wall opposite the target, then placing himself in front of the former, with his back to the latter, he held the pistol over his shoulder and took aim, looking at the image of the pistol in the glass as if it were the pistol itself; that is, in such a manner that the reflection of the object was covered by the reflection of the pistol; he then fired, and came within an inch of the bull's-eye.

When we got back to the hotel he amused us by setting fire to a glass of alcohol with a burning glass. He placed a silver dollar (a red cent would have answered as well) in the spirit, and then directed the rays of the sun through the burning-glass on the metal; in an instant the liquid was all ablaze.

In the afternoon this same youth called us all to enjoy a trick he had played upon the old gentleman.

The old gentleman, it appeared, was engaged in reading Macaulay's History of England, and like a methodical old gentleman, whenever he laid down the book, marked the place where he left off. On the day in question his son had abstracted his book from its accustomed place, and painted on the page following the one he was, reading a very excellent imitation of a fly. At his usual hour the old gentleman was seen to put on his spectacles, and take up the book; all those in the secret were of course on hand; presently he came to the passage on which appeared the counterfeit fly; the old gentleman shook the book, but the fly stirred not; then he blew at it; then he laid down the volume, and deliberately taking out his handkerchief, made a pass at the offending insect with that weapon, replaced his handkerchief, settled his glasses, took up the book again, but to his utter surprise the fly still remained. A light seemed now to dawn on him—the fly had got crushed between the leaves—so he essayed to remove it with his finger-nail; here his hopeful offspring could stand it no longer, and burst into a roar of laughter, in which several others joined. When the joke was explained to the worthy victim, he said: "Now, that's very good, isn't it; very good. I made sure it was a real fly, as true as you live. Look here, wife; look at this, some of Master Tom's doing; good, ain't it; as true as you live, that's a fact. Ah! Ha!"[A]

Later in the evening Young Hopeful horrified a circle of ladies by discovering at their feet a huge spider; in the midst of their shrieks and exclamations a courageous gentleman with large whiskers stepped forward to crush the intruder, raised his foot, and brought it down firmly, but staggered back astounded—the creature had exploded with a loud report, conveying an idea of vindictiveness and power truly appalling. The young gentleman took us aside and explained the mystery, at the same time producing from his pocket a small box containing some half-dozen similar spiders.

"I have them made on purpose for me," he said. "A German porter in our store first put me up to it, and I told him to set to work and make me as many as he liked, and charge me any price he chose. I tell ye, that Dutchman thinks I'm a great boy. I pay him about five dollars a week for spiders; well, you know, that's a good deal for a man like him; only gets twelve dollars a week in the store."

We examined the specimen carefully, and found it was constructed very much on the plan of the torpedoes used by children on the Fourth of July; only the paper was brown and a little thicker, and there were legs of fine wire attached, which gave it a very lifelike and spidery appearance. The Dutchman had evidently gone into the matter con amore, for he had taken the pains to wash some of his specimens with gum, and then sprinkle them with wool-dust to produce the appearance of what are called hairy spiders. About one-third of a grain of fulminating silver produces the explosion in each. They are very easily made.

As we steamed back to the great city of New York next day, Nix said he thought we had made a very good investment of three red-hot days of mid-summer time. We thought so, too.