Iowa County Democrat

The Man Who Got a Prize.
New York Mail.

Smythekins is the strangest man we ever saw for picking up acquaintances and getting into all sorts of places. The other day he was a witness of a scene which amused him a good deal, and he dropped in and told Spinner all about it. He had struck up an acquaintance with a clever young man of type-setting tendencies, and accompanied him to a bar where printers resort. While they were sitting over a pair of invigorating beers, they heard a rollicking whistling outside, drawing nearer and nearer, until the door flew open and an individual entered. He was the jolliest bundle of accidents in the form of man that either Smythekins or Typo ever saw. His manner was as airy as his clothing. Of the latter, the outermost layer was by no means adequate to the concealment of the second stratum, which protruded upon the general view through his looped and windowed raggedness. His winter hat, extensively altered to meet the exigencies of the summer season, balanced itself on one side of his up-barbered head, and from the center of his neglected beard came the musical evolutions which keep time to the swagger of his body. His hands were thrust into the sides of his quandam trowsers, his boots were as open as his countenance, and the very twinkle in his eye betrayed a pleasure in his own existence in keeping with his merry independence. He was whistling a composite air as eccentric as himself, reminiscent of snatches of jigs, and ballads, and "Pinafore" refrains.

"Gimme some applejack," said he. And the whistling went on as if he had only stopped to take breath.

"I haven't got to get down to Wall street till half past 1."

He took up "Little Buttercup" just where he dropped her.

"I've got a prize. I haven't got to get down to Wall street till half past 1. Gimme some applejack."

He had struck into my "Mary Ann."

"I've got a prize, I have. Just got it."

His feet were keeping time to a horn-pipe.

"All right, barkeep', all right. I'm solid."

He was whistling "Give three cheers, and one cheer more," as he hitched up his variegated trousers.

"Help the gentleman. Help the gentleman. I ain't in any hurry. Haven't got to get down to Wall street till half-past 1."

He flipped his "dicer" a little farther over his right ear, and strutted up the room and back in "Bowery style," whistling "Walking down Broadway."

"By Jove! Whoop!! I've drawn a prize. First extra spon-du-lix I've had in a month o' Saturday afternoons. Just spent my last cent when I drew a prize." Hey-vah!"

He was driving "Behind McCarty's Mare," but suddenly found himself marching to the "O Gloria" in "Faust," and, before you could say "Jack Robinson," he was kicking around the floor to the "Never mind the why and wherefore" business; unpuckered his lips in a twinkling, and assumed a sentimental attitude as he warbled "Fair moon, to thee I sing," but broke on the high note in "Bright—," and took a plantation walk-around to the burden, "I've got a prize—drawed a prize five minutes ago," and was whistling "Whoa Emma," with violent jerks of his head to right and left as he stepped towards the bar again, stuck his thumbs under his arms with his fingers spread, bent himself at a sharp angle, with his head thrown back, winked his eye and whistled "Hildebrand Montrose" with a great deal of expression, changed to "She's as pretty as a picture" as his eye was caught by a colored picture behind the bar, and interrupted himself in the middle of "Farewell, my own."

"That's the racket," he exclaimed as the bar-keeper pushed his applejack towards him. "That's the nifty, old pal. I've got a prize. Just drew it. First I ever got in my life, by Jerusalem. Haven't got to get down to Wall street till half-past 1. Plenty of time to 'joy myself. Got a prize, and haven't got to get down to Wall street till half-past 1." There y'are."

And he slid a five-cent silver piece over the counter.

"Ten cents," said the bartender.

"Eh?"

"Ten cents."

"W—5—t!!!"

"I say that applejack is ten cents."

"Ah, 'wot yer givin' us?' I never paid more'n five cents for applejack."

"I can't help that. We charge ten cents for applejack here."

"By gosh!" exclaimed the prize man, as he put down the applejack with all the whistle gone out of him. "By gosh!" he repeated "that's rough. Thought I was goin' to have a treat after drawin' that prize. Gimme beer. Found five cents in a paper of chewing tobacco. By gosh!"