The Booming of Acre Hill | Page 3

to entertain him in the
style to which he was accustomed. Why, therefore, should he do this
thing, and bring himself down to the level of the ordinary commuter?
No, indeed. Not he! The Directors saw the point, and next offered
him--and this time he accepted--the free use of the residence of one of
the officers of the company, a really handsome, pretentious structure,
with a commanding view, stable, green-houses, graceful lawns, and all
other appurtenances of a well-appointed country seat. In addition to the
furnishing of the house in proper taste, they put coal in the cellar and
fly-screens in the windows. They filled the residence with servants, and
indorsed the young person at the grocer's and butcher's. They bought
him a surrey and a depot wagon. They bought him horses and they
stocked him well with fine cigars. They paid his tailor's bills, and
sundry other pressing monetary affairs were funded. In fact, the Acre
Hill Land Improvement Company set Jocular Jimson Jones up and then
gave him carte blanche to entertain; and inasmuch as Jocular had a
genius for entertaining, it is hardly necessary to say that he availed
himself of his opportunity.
During that first summer at Acre Hill Mr. Jones had the best time of his
life. His days were what the vulgar term "all velvet." His new residence
was so superb that it restored his credit in the metropolis, and city
"swells," to whom he was under social obligation, went home, after
having been paid in kind, wondering if Jocular Jimson Jones had
unearthed somewhere a recently deceased rich uncle. He gave suppers

of most lavish sort. He had vaudeville shows at the club-house, with
talent made up of the most exclusive young men and women of the city.
The Amateur Thespians of the Borough of Manhattan gave a whole
series of performances at the club during the autumn, and by slow
degrees the society papers began to take notice. Acre Hill began to be
known as "a favorite resort of the 400." Nay, even the sacred 150 had
penetrated to its very core, wonderingly, however, for none knew how
Jocular Jimson Jones could do it. Still, they never declined an invitation.
As a natural result the market for Acre Hill lots grew active. The
sixteen cottages were sold, and the purchasers found themselves right
in the swim. It was the easiest thing in the world to get into society if
you only knew how. Jocular Jimson Jones was a fine, approachable,
neighborly person, and at the Country Club dances was quite as
attentive to the hitherto unknown Mrs. Scraggs as he was to Mrs. John
Jacob Wintergreen, the acknowledged leader of the 400. Mrs.
Wintergreen, too, was not unapproachable. She talked pleasantly during
a musicale at the club-house with Mr. Scraggs, and said she hoped
some day to have the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Scraggs; and when
Scraggs, in response, said he would go and get her she most amiably
begged him not to leave her alone.
Months went by, and where sixteen empty houses had been, there were
now sixty all occupied, and lots were going like hot cakes. Tuxedo was
in the shade. Lenox was dying. Newport was dead. Society flocked to
Acre Hill and hobnobbed with Acre Hillians. Acre Hillians became
somewhat proud of themselves, and rather took to looking down upon
Dumfries Corners people. Dumfries Corners people were nice, and all
that, but not particularly interesting in the sense that "our set," with
Jocular Jimson Jones at the head of it, was interesting.
Then came the County Ball. This Jocular engineered himself, and the
names of the lady patrons were selected from the oldest and the newest
on the list. Mrs. Wintergreen's name led, of course, but Mrs. Scraggs'
name was there too, sandwiched in between those of Mrs. Van
Cortlandtuyvel and Mrs. Gardenior, of Gardenior's Island, representing
two families which would carry social weight either in Boston or the
"other side of Market Street." There were four exalted names from the

city, one from Dumfries Corners, and seven from Acre Hill.
Then more lots sold, and still more, and then, alas, came the end!
Jocular Jimson Jones was too successful.
After two years of glory the social light of Acre Hill went out. The
Acre Hill Land Improvement Company retired from the business. All
its lots were sold, and, of course, there was no further need for the
services of Jocular Jimson Jones. His efforts were crowned with
success. His mission was accomplished, but he moved away--I think
regretfully, for, after all, he had found the Acre Hill people a most
likable lot--but it was inevitable that, there being no more fish to catch,
the anglers needed no bait, and Jocular Jimson had to go. Where he has
gone to