ne was a visit to a traveling
variety troupe, then performing in the town. The result of the visit
was briefly told by Whisky Dick. "Well, sir, we went in, and I sot the
old man down in a front seat, and kinder propped him up with some other
of the fellers round him, and there he sot as silent and awful ez the
grave. And then that fancy dancer, Miss Grace Somerset, comes in, and
dern my skin, ef the old man didn't get to trembling and fidgeting all
over, as she cut them pidgin wings. I tell ye what, boys, men is men,
way down to their boots,--whether they're crazy or not! Well, he took
on so, that I'm blamed if at last that gal HERSELF didn't notice him!
and she ups, suddenly, and blows him a kiss--so! with her fingers!"

Whether this narration were exaggerated or not, it is certain that the
old man Downey every succeeding night of the performance was a
spectator. That he may have aspired to more than that was suggested a
day or two later in the following incident: A number of the boys were
sitting around the stove in the Magnolia saloon, listening to the onset
of a winter storm against the windows, when Whisky Dick, tremulous,
excited, and bristling with rain-drops and information, broke in upon
them.

"Well, boys, I've got just the biggest thing out. Ef I hadn't seed it
myself, I wouldn't hev believed it!"

"It ain't thet ghost ag'in?" growled Robinson, from the depths of his
arm-chair; "thet ghost's about played."

"Wot ghost?" asked a new-comer.

"Why, ole Mammy's ghost, that every feller about yer sees when he's
half full and out late o' nights."

"Where?"

"Where? Why, where should a ghost be? Meanderin' round her grave on
the hill, yander, in course."

"It's suthin bigger nor thet, pard," said Dick confidently; "no ghost
kin rake down the pot ag'in the keerds I've got here. This ain't no
bluff!"

"Well, go on!" said a dozen excited voices.

Dick paused a moment, diffidently, with the hesitation of an artistic
raconteur.

"Well," he said, with affected deliberation, "let's see! It's nigh
onto an hour ago ez I was down thar at the variety show. When the
curtain was down betwixt the ax, I looks round fer Daddy. No Daddy
thar! I goes out and asks some o' the boys. 'Daddy WAS there a minnit
ago,' they say; 'must hev gone home.' Bein' kinder responsible for the
old man, I hangs around, and goes out in the hall and sees a passage
leadin' behind the scenes. Now the queer thing about this,