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I YANKEE YARNS. I ALMOST A NATIVE. "Aroyoua native of the State?" asked the judge of the United States Court, addressing a fat man who had been summoned to testify in a case of illicit distilling. "Mostly, jedge." I mean, were you born in this State?" I understand. I wa'n't born here, but I am mighty nigh a native." Came here when you were quite young, I suppose?" "No, sir, ain't been here but about ten year." How old are you?" "Fifty." Then how is it that you are very nearly a native of the State ?" Well, when I came here I only weighed about a hundred pounds. Now I weigh two forty, so you see one hundred and forty pounds of me are native while only one hundred pounds come from Missoury." I THE JEALOUS JEW. Solomon Isaccs, the Baxter street Don Giovan- ni, wedged his not very pretty face between the bars of the cage in the Tombs police court yester- day morning and showed his teeth defiantly to the world in general. Unbiassed spectators remarked that he only needed a little table, a trapeze and a tail, and he might have been pho- tographed for the Central Park chimpanzee, begging the latter's pardon. His forehead was only about an inch in height, his small head was shaped like a truncated cone, and his high cheek bones, sly eyes and hairy covering completed his marked resemblance to a monkey, saving again the latter's presence. What in Heaven's name there was about Mr Isaccs to attract womankind only woman kind could say, but there they were, the ton and elite of Baxter street society, casting tender looks of solicitude upon the noble animal in his cage. Three women, a "five dollar" lawyer and Don Gioyanni gathered about Judge Duffy in a group suggestive of Barnum's happy family. The little judge took in the iituation at a glance. Don Giovanni's wife, a woman with the face and tem- per of a hatchet, testified through an interpreter, that he refused to contribute to her support. She was cross-examined in Baxter-street English, which she spoke readily enough, and admitted that she didn't let her husband into the houso after he had been playing his rakish pranks among women younger than she. I thought so," murmured the little judge "^there'sj|moie jealousy than destitution in this case."i>i; Id vos unaple vor me de manish to geseam- ted," mumbled the monkey. "Dot's drue, dot's true," said his counsel, eagerly. "Oh, come off exclaimed the disgusted justice. I guess he can afford to support his wife if he can afford to pay a lawyer 50 dollars-or less.' Then the great and only Duffy thought of hIs fatherland and mustered up a formidable array of classical German. Comen sie here he exlaimed, a wild Gcethe- like light in his eye. Tell him in German that he's a bad man, a schletes mann. How many children-ahem-quotidies madchen haben sie? Ain't you ashamed of yourself the father of a family, making love to young girls! Look at this picture." (Here the judge produced a tintype of an ape and a rather pretty young miss of the Allen street millinery shop variety.) Here you are putting on scollops sitting alongside of a girl who isn't your wife, I '11 be sworn, unless you have several of 'em, and I must say you look it." But, Chudge, de monish-" "Stop, stop! If you work you can make money enough any of your race can do that. I know all about them. Why, if you were at the North Pole you would be trading jack-knives with the Esquimaux and selling trousers to the polar bears. They can't keep you from making money. But, there, I'm sick of the case. You have got to behave, Mr Isaacs. Dose onder galls began Mrs Isaacs. If he 'goes with other women I'll send him to the Island for twelve months," exclaimed the little judge with a terrible frown. The order of the court is that the prisoner shall pay his wife 2 dollars 50 cents a week. Now, get out, all of you. Phew" There was a rustle in the court-room and Bax- ter-street's best society went home to ruminate upon the fact that the wages of marriage are 2 dollars 50 cents per weak. DIDN'T GO IN. Baxtsr-street and Chatham square are the centre of the old clothes trade in New York. Dark cellars, stores unlighted by anything excepting candles and back rooms, in which a ray of sun- shine was never known to penetrate, are the favourite places for the storage of this class or merchandise. The darker the room the fewer flaws the unwary customer can pick in the bar- gains, which is a truism no one better understands than the satute individuals who control this line of trade. On Baxter-street both sides of the thorougfares are thickly lined with clothing stores, whose wares give the sidewalk the appearance of an elongated backyard OR wash day. it is here that the trade thrives. This is its home. The bucolic visitor who is unaccustomed to the ways of the metropolis and happens to stray into this neighbourhood is lucky indeed if he escapes with out purchasing euough clothes to dress.a regi- ment. The first stores he meets are where nothing but new garments are offered. The affable and persistent proprietor stands outside his door like the spider in his web. He seizes the stranger by the hand and warmly greets him, He asks after his family and his friends, and manages to in- sinuate a word in regard to the matter of clothing. If the stranger is a smaller man than he is, or happens to be of an inquisitive temperament, he is usually nduced to enter the building. From that moment he is doomed. No one ever goes in without buying. He might avoid purchasing, it is true, but he never does. The age of miracles is unfor- tunately past. It often happens that the proprietors of these commercial dives make a mistake in the selection of a customer. One warm afternoon last summer a tall, heavily built man, wearing an exceedingly badly fitting suit of clothes and showing dissipa- tion and ill-temper in his face, slowly down Baxter-street off the Bowery. At,cnaiJt seem to make much difference to him where ne went or how soon he got there. He was evidently walking chiefly for his own amusement, and Judg- ing from the lowering scowl on his face he was apparently extracting very little pleasure from the exercise. As he slouched along the narrow thor- oughfare, he ran against a short man with a Hebraic cast of matures and a red beard. I beg yer pardon," muttered the stranger as he sidled out into the gutter to let the little man pass by. Dot vhas all right, mine friend," replied the Jew, as a bland smile became visible under the shadow of his nose. Dot yhas all right, but vhat can I do for you dis peautiful day V I don't want nothing," replied the visitor with a surly growl, as he attempted to push his way past the merchant, who had taken this means of inviting his custom. Yaas, but can't I sell you a nice bairof ban- tal oons ? I haf a bair here dat vill yust "t you. "I don't want no pantaloons," observed the stranger," and I ain.t agoin' to buy none. Dyer hear ?" Yust let me show you my peautiful stock. Yust step in. yust for von minute," and the mer- chant with ill-timed zeal caught hold of his would- be customer's arms. By this time a large crowd of idle merchants sauntered out of their dens and spread themselves along the sidewalk to be of any assistance should their aid be required, and to secure a portion of the trade should the victim pan out largely enough to go around. „ Lead de shentleman into your store, J acoo, shouted one of the spectators, whose shop was the next in the line. Wot's that?" growled the stranger, brighten- ing up. "Wot yer goin' to do wid me ? Yer gom to lead me in, are yer ? Well (here he straigh- tened out his right arm and sent the merchant rolling into the gutter), 1 guess I have sometnin to say about that." As the Hebrew struck the gutter his fellow- tradesmen swarmed around the burley visitor. Some rushed into their stores and brought out long poles, used to hang up clothes with others picked up stools, and for a moment it M if it would fare badly with the stranger. I5"6 a wicked light came into his face and bracing him- self squarely he waded into the mob and in less than half a minute he was alone, and the side- walk looked as if a private cyclone had struck the south side of Baxter-street. Five minutes later a tall man with a. faint smile on his face walked into a Bowery saloon and called for a gin fizz. "You appear warm, Mr. Sullivan?" remarked the bar-keeper obsequiously. Yaas." replied the Boston champion. Co I've been learning a lot of chumps how to treat a gentleman when they meet him."