“Now Slick has kept house for more than forty years, and though he has made up a pretty round sum, he don’t wish to leave off the business. No! till the day of his death he will remain in his bar, smoking his Havannahs, and mechanically playing with the two pocket-books in his deep waistcoat pockets—one for the ten-dollar notes and above, the other for the fives, and under. Slick Bradley is the most independent man in the world; he jokes familiarly with his customers, and besides their bill of fare, he knows how to get more of their money by betting, for betting is the great passion of Slick; he will bet any thing, upon every thing: contradict him in what he says, and down come the two pocket-books under your nose. ‘I know better,’ he will say, ‘don’t I? What will you bet—five, ten, fifty, hundred? Tush! you dare not bet, you know you are wrong:’ and with an air of superiority and self-satisfaction, he will take long strides over his well-washed floor, repeating, ‘I know better.’
“Slick used once to boast that he had never lost a bet; but since a little incident which made all New York laugh at him, he confesses that he did once meet with his match, for though he certainly won the bet, he had paid the stakes fifty times over. Now, as I heard the circumstance from the jolly landlord himself; here it goes, just as I had it, neither more nor less.
“One day, two smart young fellows entered the ‘Franklin;’ they alighted from a cab, and were dressed in the tip-top of fashion. As they were new customers, the landlord was all smiles and courtesy, conducted them into saloon Number 1, and making it up in his mind that his guests could be nothing less than Wall-street superfines, he resolved that they should not complain of his fare.
“A splendid dinner was served to them, with sundry bottles of old wines and choice Havannahs, and the worthy host was reckoning in his mind all the items he could decently introduce in the bill, when ding, ding went the bell, and away he goes up-stairs, capering, jumping, smiling, and holding his two hands before his bow-window in front.
“‘Eh, old Slick,’ said one of the sparks, ‘capital dinner, by Jove; good wine, fine cigars; plenty of customers, eh!’
“Slick winked; he was in all his glory, proud and happy.
“‘Nothing better in life than a good dinner,’ resumed the spark Number 1; ‘some eat only to live—they are fools; I live only to eat, that is the true philosophy. Come, old chap, let us have your bill, and mind, make it out as for old customers, for we intend to return often; don’t we?’
“This last part of the sentence was addressed to spark Number 2, who, with his legs comfortably over the corner of the table, was picking his teeth with his fork.
“‘I shall, by jingo!’ slowly drawled out Number 2, ‘dine well here! damned comfortable; nothing wanted but the Champagne.’
“‘Lord, Lord! gentlemen,’ exclaimed Slick, ‘why did you not say so? Why, I have the best in town.’