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A loud and prolonged laugh from his auditors followed this tableau in Uncle Joe’s story. A little more rappee, and the Major proceeded:

“Well, it was very odd, I don’t know how it was, but somehow or other I was left with the child, and a plaguy time had I of it; the town authorities refused to take charge of it, nobody else would; so by Brandywine, there I was; the people seemed to be suspicious of me–sniggered and went on as though I knew more about the woman and her child than I let on. In short, I had to father the child, and provide for it, and I did,” said the Major, quite patriotically.

“Well, never mind, Uncle Joe,” said Mrs. Bamberry; “that boy may pay you yet–pay you for all your trouble; he’s growing nicely, and will make a fine man.”

“So you really had to keep the child!” cried several.

“O yes,” says the Major; “I was in for it; I got a nurse and had the youngster taken care of. The hotels were crowded, very uncomfortable, rooms wretched, small, damp, and dirty. The landlords were quite independent, and the servants the most impudent set of extorting varlets I ever encountered! To keep from starving, I did as others–bribed a waiter to keep my plate supplied. At night they had what they called ‘hops!’ in other words, dances, shaking the whole house, and raising such a noise and hullabaloo, with cracked horns, squeaky fiddles–bawling and yelling, that no sailor boarding house could be half so disturbant of the peace. By banks of Brandywine, I got enough of such folderols; at the end of the week I asked for my bill, augmented by some few sundries–it made my hair stand up. Now what do you suppose my bill was, for one week, board, lodging, servants’ bribes and sundries? I’ll tell you,” said the Major, “for you never could guess it–it was forty-one dollars, fifty cents. I took my protege, bag and baggage, and started for home. I was absent on this memorable tour to Saratogy just two weeks, and by banks of Brandywine, if the expense of that tour–not including the time wasted, vexation, bother, mortification of feelings, fuss, and rumpus–was but a fraction less than three hundred dollars! Four times the cost of my anticipated trip, lessened half the time, with fifty per cent. more humbug about it than I ever dreamed of!”

Miss Scarlatina agreed with the rest of the company, that it cost Uncle Joe Blinks more to go to Saratogy than it came to, and they all concluded–not to go there themselves, just then–any how!