front row of seats, of which C.
Skimmerhorn, Esq., and his train, occupied as much as they could cover
by spreading out. Mr. Skimmerhorn recognized, in one of the clergymen,
his beloved pastor, and proceeded, in a pleasant, off-hand manner, and a
loud voice, to give a few of the reasons which inclined him to pronounce
the panorama a humbug.

"Being deadheads," sarcastically observed Tiffles to Marcus Wilkeson,
"of course they come early, and take the best seats."

The next customer was a poor but jovial mechanic, having a red-faced
little wife slung on his arm. This humble individual paid down fifty
cents in bright new silver to the grim treasurer, entered the hall, and
took seats about halfway up. "It's a splendid affair, Sally, this 'ere
pannyrammer, I'll bet anything." "Sha'n't we enjoy it, John!" returned
that healthy young woman.

More work for the amiable Tiffles, but none for the melancholy
Wilkeson. Two more clergymen with families, the County Judge, the local
railroad agent, all the members of the Board of Freeholders, and several
other people, who, according to the landlord of the United States Hotel,
were highly influential in moulding public opinion, and were in the
habit of receiving free tickets.

"Very good for a school of comparative anatomy," said Tiffles to Marcus
(in facetious allusion to the deadheads), "but decidedly bad for my
panorama."

Marcus responded with a dreary smile through the pigeon hole.

Then there came a few more mechanics and other plain people, and then a
streak of fortune--an entire young ladies' seminary, headed by the
preceptress, and divided into squads, each commanded by an assistant
teacher acting as drill sergeant. They were admitted at half price (as
per advertisement), and brought five dollars and sixty-two cents into
the treasury. Tiffles rubbed his eyes at the sight of such a troop of
blooming faces, and his hands at the thought of the grand accession to
his cash box. The female seminary was accommodated with the two front
rows of the best seats left.

Following the seminary, in an unprecedented sequence of luck, was a
boys' school, that came whooping up the stairway like a tribe of young
Indians, in charge of a venerable sachem in spectacles. In the rush and
excitement of the moment, several of them ran toll--a circumstance of
which the old gentleman did not take cognizance when he settled with
Marcus Wilkeson for their admission at twelve and a half cents _per