A quarter race in Kentucky and other sketches, illustrative of scenes, characters, and incidents throughout "the universal Yankee nation." |
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BILL MORSE ON THE CITY TAXES. |
 | A quarter race in Kentucky |  |
BILL MORSE ON THE CITY TAXES.
BY "BAGGS," OF BOSTON, MASS.
The following sketch is the first of a series which have appeared
in the "Spirit of the Times," from the pen of a young gentleman
of Boston, from whom "great things" are expected "one
of these days."
Some time ago, long before the "Boundary Question"
was settled, there lived upon the extreme frontiers of
Maine a young man ycleped "Bill Morse." He supported
a primitive sort of establishment, and his whole
circle of acquaintance consisted of some half a dozen
half-civilized individuals, residing in the vicinity. His
principal occupations were killing venison and felling
trees; and reading and writing were accomplishments
to which Bill laid no claim.
In the course of time, however, a rich relation—a
Southern planter probably—happened to leave this world
for a better, and, fortunately for Bill, left no will behind
him. By a curious and intricate course of legal proceedings
and without any interference on his part, Bill
Morse found himself a wealthy man. The "gentleman
of the green bag" who travelled down to impart this
information, conducted Bill to Bangor, and then having
appointed himself Bill's agent, left things to themselves.
The young gentleman came out in due time in very bold
colours, and having always plenty of money at his disposal,
enjoyed himself without stint.
Among other rents through which his surplus cash
course of the year was assessed upon him. The bill was
presented, but for the life of him, Bill couldn't make
out its meaning. After some minutes' attentive scrutiny
of the article, he proceeded to the landlord of the hotel
where he visited.
"I say, landlord," said he, "what's this?"
"That, Mr. Morse," answered the landlord, casting
his eyes over the paper, "is a tax bill."
"A tax bill," murmured Bill, regarding it with an
inquisitive glance—"yes, but what's that?"
"Why," answered the landlord smiling, "it's your
proportion of the expenses of the city."
"My proportion!" said Bill. "What, does every
one pay?"
"Certainly," replied the landlord, "every one who
can afford it."
"Oh, I can afford it," said Bill, who was here touched
upon a tender point; "I'll send and have it paid."
The bill was settled, and in proper time a second
made its appearance. Bill hastened to the landlord.
"Look here," said he in astonishment, "here's another
of them tax bills!"
"Of course," replied the landlord; "they come once
a year."
"The devil they do," cried Bill; "so the city goes
into debt every year, does it?"
"Regularly," said the landlord; "it can't be helped."
"Well, then, damn me!" cried Bill in a high passion,
"if the city hasn't got any better business to do than to
keep on running up debts for me to help her out because I
did it once, she'll find herself extensively mistaken—I'll
see her d—d before I give her another red cent!"
| A quarter race in Kentucky | |