“It’s a good deal of money to pay out for two or three hour’s fun,” he said in a confidential tone to the gentleman in the box-office, as the latter returned three dollars in change for a five, accompanying them with four bits of pasteboard which would pass the party by the Cerberus at the door; “but you see when a man don’t come down to the city more’n once in two years, I reckon he can afford it.”
This explanation of his almost criminal prodigality had the effect of soothing the farmer’s mind, so far as the expenditure of two dollars was concerned, and the four entered the museum in open-mouthed astonishment.
This was a place which neither Tom nor Bob had ever visited before, owing to the high price of admission; and they were quite as much delighted as were their country friends, although both took especial care to prevent giving such palpable evidences of their enjoyment.
In a very few moments the young gentlemen of Newspaper Row were wearied with looking at the figures of celebrities, and Bob said confidently to his companion:—
“I don’t understand how it is they charge half a dollar jest to come in here and see these people. I can find a good many more on Broadway any day;” and it is very likely they would have voted this particular exhibition a failure, when taken in connection with the amount charged for admission, had it not been that Josiah accidentally found his way down the staircase to the Chamber of Horrors.
He came back swiftly, his eyes gleaming with astonishment, his face almost pale, and exclaimed in a voice trembling with surprise and emotion:—
“Come down here quick! They’re murderin’ folks, an’ hangin’ ’em, an’ everything else! It’s awful nice!”
Tom and Bob had nothing more to say about the entrance fee, for here was an opportunity to drink their fill of horrors.
During the next fifteen minutes not a single member of the party spoke, as they walked from one scene to another in what was really like silent fear.
“This is an awful wicked world,” Farmer Shindle said solemnly, when he had fully understood the seven stages of the burglar’s life, “an’ if ever the time comes when I get tired stayin’ out to Berry’s Corner, I’ll come right down here. It’s enough to make a man wish there never was such places as cities. Say, Bob, do you s’pose them figgers are all wax, or are they reg’lar skins stuffed?”