CHAPTER I. THE WAY HE WAS “BROUGHT UP.”

Produced by David Widger from page images generously

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THE SWAMP DOCTOR'S ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH-WEST.

Containing The Whole Of The Louisiana Swamp Doctor; Streaks Of Squatter

Life; And Far-Western Scenes; In A Series Of Forty-Two Humorous Southern

And Western Sketches, Descriptive Of Incidents And Character.

By John Robb

(“Madison Tensas, M.D.,” and “Solitaire,”)

Author Of “Swallowing Oysters Alive,” Etc.

Illustrated by Darley.

1858

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TO

WM. S. PARHAM, and ALFRED J. LOWRY,

OF MADISON PARISH, LOUISIANA,

MY TRUE AND FAST FRIENDS,

THIS HUMBLE VOLUME IS INSCRIBED BY THEIR FRIEND,

MADISON TENSAS, M. D.

THE CITY PHYSICIAN versus THE SWAMP DOCTOR.

|The city physician, or the country doctor of an old-settled locality,

with all the appliances of cultivated and refined life around them;

possessing all the numberless conveniences and luxuries of the

sick-room; capable of controlling the many adverse circumstances that

exert such a pernicious influence upon successful practice; having at

command the assistance, in critical and anomalous cases, of scientific

and experienced coadjutors; the facilities of good roads; the advantages

of comfortable dwellings, easy carriages, and the pleasures of

commingling with a cultivated, mild, refined society, cannot fully

realize and appreciate the condition of their less favoured, humble

brethren, who, impelled by youthfulness, poverty, defective education,

or the reckless spirit of adventure, have taken up their lot with

society nearly in its primitive condition, and dispense the blessings

of their profession to the inhabitants of a country, where the obscure

bridle-path, the unbridged water-courses, the deadened forest trees, the

ringing of the woodman's axe, the humble log cabin, the homespun dress,

and all the many sober, hard realities of pioneer life, attest the

youthfulness of the settlement.

The city physician may be of timorous nature and weak and effeminate

constitution: the “swamp doctor,” whose midnight ride is often saluted

by the scream of the panther, must be of courageous nature, and in

physical endurance as hardy as one of his own grand alluvial oaks, whose

canopy of leaves is many a night his only shelter.

The city physician may be of fastidious taste, and exquisiteness

of feeling; the swamp doctor must have the unconcernedness of the

dissecting-room, and be prepared to swallow his peck of dirt all at

once.

The city physician must be of polished manners and courtly language:

the swamp doctor finds the only use he has for bows, is to escape some

impending one that threatens him with Absalomic fate; the only necessity

for courtly expression, to induce some bellicose “squatter” to pay his

bill in something besides hot curses and cold lead.

The city physician, fast anchored in the sublimity of scientific

expression, requires a patient to “inflate his lungs to their utmost

capacity;” the swamp doctor tells his to “draw a long breath, or

swell your d--dest:” one calls an individual's physical peculiarities,

“idiosyncrasy;” the other terms it “a fellow's nater.”

The city physician sends his prescriptions to the drug store, and gives

himself no regard as to the purity of the medicine; each swamp doctor is

his own _pharmacien_, and carries his drug store at the saddle.

The city physician rides in an easy carriage over well paved streets,

and pays toll at the bridge; we mount a canoe, a pair of mud boots,

sometimes a horse, and traverse, unmindful of exposure or danger, the

sullen slough or angry river.

The city physician wears broadcloth, and looking in his hat reads,

“Paris;” we adorn the outer man with homespun, and gazing at our

graceful castors remember the identical hollow tree in which we caught

the coon that forms its fair outline and symmetrical proportions.

The city physician goes to the opera or theatre, to relax, and while

away a leisure evening. The swamp doctor resorts for the same purpose

to a deer or bear hunt, a barbacue or bran dance, and generally ends by

becoming perfectly hilarious, and evincing a determination to sit up in

order that he can escort the young ladies home before breakfast.

The city physician, compelled to keep up appearances, deems a library of

a hundred authors a moderate collection; the swamp doctor glories in the

possession of “Gunn's Domestic Medicine,” and the “Mother's Guide.”

The city physician has a costly Parisian instrument for performing

operations, and scorns to extract a tooth; the swamp doctor can rarely

boast of a case of amputating instruments, and practises dentistry with

a gum lancet and a pair of pullikens.

The city physician, with intellect refined, but feelings vitiated by the

corruptings and heart-hardenings of modern polished society, views with

utter indifference or affected sympathy the dissolution of body and soul

in his patients: but think you, we can see depart unmoved those with

whom we have endured privations, have been knit like brothers together

by our mutual dangers; with whom we have hunted, fished, and shared the

crust and lowly couch; with whom we have rejoiced and sorrowed; think

you we can see them go down to the grave with tearless eyes, with

unmoved soul? If we can, then blot out that expression so accordant with

common sentiment, “God made the country, and man the town.”

The city physician sends the poor to the hospital, and eventually to the

dissecting-room; we tend and furnish them gratuitously, and a proposal

to dispose of them anatomically would, in all probability, put a knife

into us.

One, with a sickly frame, anticipates old age; the other, with a

vigorous constitution, knows that exposure and privation will cut him

off ere his meridian be reached.

The city physician has soft hands, soft skin, and soft clothes: we have

soft hearts but hard hands; we are rough in our phrases, but true in our

natures; our words do not speak one language and our actions another;

what we mean we say, what we say we mean; our characters, when not

original, are impressed upon us by the people we practise among

and associate with, for such is the character of the pioneers and

pre-emptionists of the swamp.

To sum up the whole, the city physician lives at the top of the pot,

the swamp doctor scarcely at the rim of the skillet: one is a delicate

carpet, which none but the nicest kid can press; the other is a cypress

floor, in which the hobnails of every clown can stamp their shape:

one is the breast of a chicken, the other is a muscle-shell full of

cat-fish: one is quinine, the other Peruvian bark: and so on in the

scale of proportions.

I have contrasted the two through the busy, moving scenes of life; let

me keep the curtain from descending awhile, till I draw the last and

awful contrast.

Stand by the death-bed of the two, in that last and solemn hour,

when disease has prescribed for the patient, and death, acting

the _pharmacien_, is filling the R. In a close, suffocating room,

horizontalized on a feather bed; if a bachelor, attended by a mercenary

nurse; his departure eagerly desired by a host of expectant, envious

competitors; with the noise of drays, the shouts of the busy multitude,

and the many discordant cries of the city ringing through his frame, the

soul of the city physician leaves its mortal tenement and wings its way

to heaven through several floors and thicknesses of mortar and brick,

whilst the sobs of his few true friends float on the air strangely

mingled with “Pies all hot!”

“The last 'erald!” and “Five dollars reward, five dollars reward, for

the lost child of a disconsolate family!”

The swamp doctor is gathered unto his fathers 'neath the greenwood

tree, couched on the yielding grass, with the soft melody of birds, the

melancholy cadence of the summer wind, the rippling of the stream, the

sweet smell of flowers, and the blue sky above bending down as if to

embrace him, to soothe his spirit, and give his parting soul a glance

of that heaven which surely awaits him as a recompense for all the

privations he has endured on earth; whilst the pressure on his palm of

hard and manly hands, the tears of women attached to him like a brother

by the past kind ministerings of his Godlike calling, the sobs of

children, and the boisterous grief of the poor negroes, attest that not

unregarded or unloved he hath dwelt on earth: a sunbeam steals through

the leafy canopy and clothes his brow with a living halo, a sweet smile

pervades his countenance, and amidst all that is beauteous in nature or

commendable in man, the swamp doctor sinks in the blissful luxuries of

death; no more to undergo privation and danger, disease or suffering. He

hath given his last pill, had his last draught protested against; true

to the instincts of his profession, he, no doubt, in the battling troop

of the angels above, if feasible, will still continue to _charge_.

MY EARLY LIFE.

|Upon what slender hinges the gate of a man's life turns, and what

trifling things change the tenor of his being, and determine in a

moment the direction of a lifetime! Who inhales his modicum of azote and

oxygen, that cannot verify in his own person that we are the creatures

of circumstances, and that there is a hidden divinity that shapes our

ends, despite the endeavours of the pedagogue, man, to paddle them out

of shape?

Some writer of celebrity has averred, and satisfactorily proven to all

of his way of thinking, by a chain of logical deductions, that the war

of 1812, the victory of New Orleans, the elevation of Jackson to the

presidency, the annexation of Texas, General Taylor's not possessing the

proportions of Hercules, and a sad accident that occurred to one of the

best of families very recently, all was the inevitable effect of a quiet

unobtrusive citizen in Maryland being charged some many years ago with

hog stealing.

Were I writing a library instead of a volume, I would take up, for the

satisfaction of my readers, link by link, the chain of consequences,

from the mighty to the insignificant; also, if time and eternity

permitted, trace the genealogy of the memorable porker (upon whose

forcible seizure all these events depended), back to the time when

Adam was not required to show a tailor's bill unpaid, as a portent of

gentility, or Eve thought it a wife's duty to henpeck her husband.

As I cannot do this, I will, by an analogous example, show that

equally--to me at least--important consequences have been deduced from

as unimportant and remote causes; and that the writing of this volume,

my being a swamp doctor in 1848, and having been steamboat cook,

cabin-boy, gentleman of leisure, plough-boy, cotton-picker, and almost a

printer, depended when I was ten years old on a young lady wearing “No.

2” shoes, when common sense and the size of her foot whispered “fives.”

And now to show the connexion between these remote facts.

The death of my mother when I was very young breaking up our family

circle, I became an inmate of the family of a married brother,

whose wife, to an imperious temper, had, sadly for me, united the

companionship of several younger brothers, whose associates I became

when I entered her husband's door. Living in a free state, and his

straitened circumstances permitting him but one hired servant, much

of the family drudgery fell upon his wife, who up to my going there

devolved a portion upon her brothers, but which all fell to my share as

soon as I became domiciliated. I complained to my brother; but it was a

younger brother arraigning a loved wife, and we all know how such a suit

would be decided. Those only who have lived in similar circumstances can

appreciate my situation; censured for errors and never praised for my

industry, the scapegoat of the family and general errand-boy of the

concern, waiting upon her brothers when I would fain have been at study

or play, mine was anything but an enviable life. This condition of

things continued until I had passed my tenth year, when, grown old

by drudgery and wounded feelings, I determined to put into effect a

long-cherished plan, to run away and seek my fortune wheresoever chance

might lead or destiny determine.

By day and by night for several years this thought had been upon me;

it had grown with my growth, and acquired strength from each day's

developement of fresh indignities, filling me with so much resolution,

that the boy of ten had the mental strength of twenty to effect such

a purpose. I occupied my few leisure hours in building airy castles of

future fortune and distinction, and in marking out the preparatory road

to make Providence my guide, and have the world before me, where to

choose.

One evening, just at sunset, I was seated on the lintel of the

street-door, nursing one of my nephews, and affecting to still his

cries, the consequence of a spiteful pinch I had given him, to repay

some indignity offered me by his mother, when my attention was attracted

to a young lady, who, apparently in much suffering, was tottering along,

endeavouring to support herself by her parasol, which she used as a

cane. To look at me now with my single bed, buttonless shirts, premature

wigdom, and haggard old-bachelor looks, you would scarcely think I am

or was ever an admirer of the sex. But against appearances I have always

been one; and boy as I was then, the sight of that young woman tottering

painfully along, awoke all my sensibilities, and made the fountain of

sympathy gush out as freely as a child swallowing lozenges. Overcoming

my boyish diffidence, as she got opposite the door, I addressed her,

“Miss, will you not stop and rest? I will get you a chair, and you can

stay in the porch, if you will not come in the house.”

“Thank you, my little man,” she gasped out, and attempted to seat

herself in the chair I had brought, but striking her foot against the

step the pain was so great, that she shrieked out, and fell dead, as I

thought, on the floor.

Frightened terribly to think I had brought dead folks home, I joined

my yell to her scream, as a prolongation, which outcry brought my

sister-in-law to the scene. The woman prevailing, she carried her in the

house, and shutting the door to keep out curious eyes, which began to

gather round, she set to restoring her uninvited guest, which she soon

accomplished. As soon as she could speak, she gasped out, “Take them

off, they are killing me!”--pointing to her feet. This, with difficulty,

was effected, and their blood-stained condition showed how great must

have been her torment. She announced herself as the daughter of a

well-known merchant of the city, and begged permission to send me to her

father's store, to request him to send a carriage for her. Assent

being given, she gave me the necessary directions to find it, and off I

started. It was near the river.

On my way to the place, as I reached the river, I overtook a gentleman

apparently laden down with baggage. On seeing me he said, “My lad, I

will give you a quarter if you will carry one of these bundles down to

that steamboat,” pointing to one that was ringing her last bell previous

to starting to New Orleans. This was a world of money to me then, and

I readily agreed. Increasing our pace, we reached just in time

the steamer, between which and the place he had accosted me, I had

determined, as the present opportunity was a good one, to put in

execution my long-cherished plan, and run away from my home then. Its

accomplishment was easy. Following my employer on board, I received

my quarter; but instead of going on shore, I secreted myself on board,

until the continued puff of the steamer and the merry chant of the

firemen assured me we were fairly under way, that I was fast leaving my

late home and becoming a fugitive upon the face of the waters, dependent

upon my childish exertions for my daily bread, without money, save the

solitary quarter, without a change of clothes; no friend to counsel me

save the monitor within, a heart made aged and iron by contumely and

youthful suffering.

Emerging from my concealment, I timidly sought the lower deck and sat me

down upon the edge of the boat, and singling out some spark as it rose

from the chimney, strove childishly to draw some augury of my future

fate from its long continuance or speedy extinction.

The city was fast fading in the distance. I watched its receding houses,

for, while they lasted, I felt as if I was not altogether without a

home. A turn of the river hid it from sight, and my tears fell fast, for

I was also leaving the churchyard which held my mother, and I then had

not grown old enough to read life's bitterest page, to separate dream

from reality, and know we could meet no more on earth; for oftentimes

in the quiet calm of sleep, in the lonely hours of night, I had seen

her bending over my tear-wet pillow, and praying for me the same sweet

prayer that she prayed for me when I was her sinless youngest born, and

I thought in leaving her grave I should never see her more, for how,

when she should rise again at night, would she be able to find me,

rambler as I was?

With this huge sorrow to dampen my joy at acquiring my liberty, chilled

with the night air I was sinking into sleep in my dangerous seat, when

the cook of the boat discovered me, and shaking me by the arm until

I awoke, took me into the caboose, and giving me my supper, asked me,

“What I was doing there, where I would be certain to fall overboard if

I went to sleep?” I made up a fictitious tale, and finishing my story,

asked him if he could assist me in getting some work on the boat to pay

my passage, hinting I was not without experience in his department,

in washing dishes, cleaning knives, &c. This was just to his hand;

promising me employment and protection, he gave me a place to sleep in,

which, fatigued as I was, I did not suffer long to remain unoccupied.

The morrow beheld me regularly installed as third cook or scullion, at

eight dollars a month. This, to be sure, was climbing the world's ladder

to fame and fortune at a snail's pace; but I was not proud, and willing

to bide my time in hope of the better day a-coming. My leisure hours,

which were not few, were employed in studying my books, of which I had a

good supply, bought with money loaned me by my kind friend the cook.

I improved rapidly in my profession, till one day my ambition was

gratified by being allowed to make the corn bread for the first

cabin table. This I executed in capital style, with the exception

of forgetting in my elation to sift the meal, thereby kicking up

considerable of a stir when it came to be eaten, and causing my

receiving a hearty curse for my carelessness, and a threat of a rope's

end, the exercise of which I crushed by seizing a butcher knife in very

determined style, and the affair passed over.

I remained on board until I had ascended as high as second cook, when I

got disgusted with the kitchen and aspired to the cabin. I had heard of

many cabin-boys becoming captain of their own vessels, but never of one

cook,--except Captain Cook, and he became one from name, not by nature

or profession. There being no vacancy on board, I received my wages and

hired at V-------- as cabin boy on a small steamboat running as packet

to a small town, situated on one of the tributaries of the Mississippi.

On my first trip up I recollected that I had a brother living in the

identical town to which the steamer was destined, who had been in the

south for several years, and, when I last heard from him, was doing well

in the world's ways.

I thought that as I would be landing every few days at his town, it

would be only right that I should call and see him.

He was merchandising on a large scale, I was informed by a gentleman

on board, a planter in one of the middle counties of Mississippi, who,

seeing me reading in the cabin after I had finished my labour of the

day, opened a conversation with me, and, extracting my history by his

mild persuasiveness, offered to take me home with him, and send me

to school until my education for a profession was completed. But my

independence spurned the idea of being indebted to such an extent to a

stranger; perhaps I was too enamoured of my wild roving life. I refused

his offer, thanking him gratefully for the kind interest he seemed to

take in me. He made me promise, that if I changed my mind soon, I would

write to him, and gave me his direction, which I soon lost, and his name

has passed from my recollection.

On reaching M------, I strolled up in town and inquired the way of a

negro to Mr. Tensas' store. He pointed it out to me, and I entered.

On inquiry for him, I found he was over at his dwelling-house, which I

sought. It was a very pretty residence, I thought, for a bachelor; the

walks were nicely gravelled, and shrubbery appropriately decorated the

grounds.

I knocked at the door boldly; after a short delay it was opened by quite

a handsome young finely dressed lady. Thinking I was mistaken in the

house, I inquired if my brother resided there? She replied, that he did

and invited me to wait, as he would soon be home. Walking in, after a

short interval my brother came. Not remarking me at first, he gave the

young lady a hearty kiss, which she returned with interest. I concluded

she must be his housekeeper. Perceiving me, he recognised me in a

moment, and gave me an affectionate welcome, bidding me go and kiss my

sister-in law, which, not waiting for me to do, she performed herself.

My brother was very much shocked when he heard of my menial occupation,

and used such arguments and persuasives to induce me to forsake my

boat-cabin for his house, that I at length yielded.

He intended sending me the next year to college, when the monetary crash

came over the South, and the millionaire of to-day awoke the penniless

bankrupt of the morrow. My brother strove manfully to resist the

impending ruin, but fell like the rest, and I saw all my dreams of a

collegiate education vanishing into thin smoke.

Why recount the scenes of the next five years? it is but the thrice-told

tale, of a younger brother dependent upon an elder, himself dependent

upon others for employment and a subsistence for his family; his

circumstances would improve--I would be sent to school--fortune would

again lower, and I, together with my sister-in-law, would perform the

menial offices of the family.

My sixteenth birthday was passed in the cotton-field, at the tail of a

plough, in the midst of my fellow-labourers, between whom and myself

but slight difference existed. I was discontented and unhappy. Something

within kept asking me, as it had for years, if it was to become a toiler

in the cotton-fields of the South, the companion of negroes, that I

had stolen from my boyhood's home? was this the consummation of all my

golden dreams?

My prospects were gloomy enough to daunt a much older heart. Poverty

shut out all hopes of a collegiate education and a profession.

Reflection had disgusted me with a steamboat. I determined to learn

a trade. My taste for reading naturally inclined me to one in which I

could indulge it freely: it was a printer's.

Satisfactory arrangements were soon made with a neighbouring printer and

editor of a country newspaper. The day was fixed when he would certainly

expect me; if I did not come by that time he was to conclude that I

had altered my determination, and he would be free to procure another

apprentice.

A wedding was to come off in the family for which I worked, in a short

time, and they persuaded me to delay my departure a week, and attend it.

I remained, thinking my brother would inform the printer of the cause of

my detention. The wedding passed off, and the next morning, bright

and early, I bid adieu, without a pang of regret, to my late home, and

started for my new master's, but who was destined never to become such;

for on reaching the office I learnt that my brother had failed to inform

him why I delayed, and he had procured another apprentice only the

day before. So that wedding gave one subject less to the fraternity

of typos, and made an indifferent swamp doctor of matter for a good

printer.

I returned home on foot, wallet on my back, and resumed my

cotton-picking, feeling but little disappointed. I had shaken hands

too often with poverty's gifts to let this additional grip give me much

uneasiness.

The season was nearly over, and the negroes were striving to get the

cotton out by Christmas, when one night at the supper table--the only

meal I partook of with the family--my brother inquired, “How would you

like to become a doctor, Madison?”

I thought he was jesting, and answered merely with a laugh. Become

a doctor, a professional man, when I was too poor to go to a common

school, was it not ludicrous?

“I am in earnest. Suppose a chance offered for you to become a student

of medicine, would you accept it?” he said.

It was not the profession I would have selected had wealth given me

a choice, but still it was a means of aquiring an education, a door

through which I might possibly emerge to distinction, and I answered,

“Show me the way, and I will accept without hesitation.”

He was not jesting. One of the first physicians in the state, taking

a fancy to me, had offered to board me, clothe me, educate me in his

profession, and become as a father to me, if I were willing to accept

the kind offices at his hands.

I could scarcely realize the verity of what I had heard, yet 'twas

true, and the ensuing new-year beheld me an inmate of the office of my

benefactor.

He is now in his grave. Stricken down a soldier of humanity at his post,

ere the meridian of life was reached. Living, he was called the widow's

and orphan's friend, and the tears of all attested, at his death, that

the proud distinction was undenied. I am not much, yet what I am he

made me; and when my heart fails to thrill in gratitude at the silent

breathing of his name, may it be cold to the loudest tones of life.

Behold me, then, a student of medicine, but yesterday a cotton-picker,

illustrating within my own person, in the course of a few years, the

versatility of American pursuits and character.

I was scarcely sixteen, yet I was a student of medicine, and had been,

almost a printer, a cotton-picker, plough-boy, gin-driver, gentleman

of leisure, cabin-boy, cook, scullion, and runaway, all distinctly

referable to the young lady before-mentioned wearing “No. 2's,” when her

foot required “fives.”

GETTING ACQUAINTED WITH THE MEDICINES.

“Now, Mr. Tensas,” said my kind preceptor, a few days after I had got

regularly installed in the office, “your first duty must be to get

acquainted with the different medicines. This is a Dispensatory--as you

read of a drug you will find the majority mentioned on the shelves,

take it down and digest”--here, unfortunately for the peace of mind and

general welfare of a loafing Indian, who hung continually around the

office, seeking what he might devour, or rather steal, the doctor

was called away in a great hurry, and did not have time to finish

his sentence, so “take it down and digest,” were the last words that

remained in my mind. “Take it down and digest.” By the father of

physic, thought I, this study of medicine is not the pleasant task I

anticipated--rather arduous in the long run for the stomach, I should

judge, to swallow and digest all the medicines, from Abracadabra to

Zinzibar. Why, some of them are vomits, and I'd like to know how they

are to be kept down long enough to be digested. Now, as for tamarinds,

or liquorice, or white sugar, I might go them, but aloes, and rhubarb,

and castor-oil, and running your finger down your throat, are rather

disagreeable any way you can take them. I'm in for it, though; I suppose

it's the way all doctors are made, and I have no claims to be exempted;

and now for big book with the long name.

I opened it upon a list of the metals. Leading them in the order that

alphabetical arrangement entitled it to, was, “Arsenic: deadly poison.

Best preparation, Fowler's Solution. Symptoms from an overdose, burning

in the stomach, great thirst, excessive vomiting,” &c., &c. With eyes

distended to their utmost capacity, I read the dread' enumeration of its

properties. What! take this infernal medicament down, digest it, and run

the chances of its not being an overdose? Can't think of it a moment.

I'll go back to my plough first; but then the doctor knew all the

dangers when he gave his directions, and he was so precise and

particular, there cannot be any mistake. I'll take a look at it anyhow,

and I hunted it up. As the Dispensatory preferred Fowler's Solution, I

selected that. Expecting to find but a small quantity, I was somewhat

surprised when I discovered it in a four-gallon bottle, nearly full. I

took out the stopper, and applied it cautiously to my nose. Had it not

been for the label, bearing, in addition to the name, the fearful word

“Poison,” and the ominous skull and cross-bones, I would have sworn it

was good old Bourbon whiskey. Old Tubba, the Indian, was sitting in

the office door, watching my proceedings with a great deal of interest.

Catching the spirituous odour of the arsenical solution, he rose up

and approached me eagerly, saying, “Ugh; Injun want whiskey; give Tubba

whiskey; bring wild duck, so many,” holding up two of his fingers. The

temptation was strong, I must confess. The medicines had to be tested,

and I felt very much disinclined to depart this life just then, when the

pin feathers of science had just commenced displacing the soft down of

duck-lingdom; but this Indian, he is of no earthly account or use to any

one; no one would miss him, even were he to take an overdose; science

often has demanded sacrifices, and he would be a willing one; but--it

may kill him; I can't do it; to kill a man before I get my diploma will

be murder; a jury might not so pronounce it, but conscience would;

I can't swallow it, and Tubba must not. These were the thoughts that

flashed through my mind before I replied to the Indian's request.

“Indian can't have whiskey. Tubba drink whiskey--Tubba do so.” Here I

endeavoured to go through the pantomime of dying, as I was not master of

sufficient Choctaw to explain myself. I lifted a glass to my mouth and

pretended to empty it, then gave a short yell, clapping my hands over my

stomach, staggering, jerking my hands and feet about, as I fell on the

floor, repeating the yells, then turned on my face and lay still as

though I was dead. But to my chagrin, all this did not seem to affect

the Indian with that horror that I intended, but on the contrary, he

grunted out a series of ughs, expressive of his satisfaction, saying,

“Ugh; Tubba want get drunk too.”

The dinner hour arriving, I dismissed old Tubba, and arranging my

toilet, walked up to the dwelling-house, near half a mile distant, where

I was detained several hours by the presence of company, to whom I was

forced to do the honours, the doctor not having returned.

At length I got released, and returned to the office, resolving to

suspend my studies until I could have a talk with my preceptor; for,

even on my ignorant mind, the shadow of a doubt was falling as to

whether there might not be some mistake in my understanding of his

language.

Entering the office, my eyes involuntarily sought the Solution of

Arsenic. Father of purges and pukes, it was gone! “Tubba, you're a gone

case. I ought to have hidden it. I might have known he would steal it

after smelling the whiskey; poor fellow! it's no use to try and find

him, he's struck a straight line for the swamp; poor fellow! it's all my

fault.” Thus upbraiding myself for my carelessness, I walked back into

my bedroom. And my astonishment may be imagined, when I discovered the

filthy Indian tucked in nicely between my clean sheets.

To all appearances he was in a desperate condition, the fatal bottle

lying hugged closely in his embrace, nearly empty. He must be suffering

awfully, thought I, when humanity had triumphed over the indignation I

felt at the liberties he had taken, but Indian-like, he bears it without

a groan. Well has his race been called “the stoics of the wood, the men

without a tear.” But I must not let him die without an effort to save

him. I don't know what to do myself, so I'll call in Dr. B., and away

I posted; but Dr. B. was absent; so was Dr. L.; and in fact every

physician of the town. Each office, however, contained one or more

students; and as half a loaf is better than no bread, I speedily

informed them of the condition of affairs, and quickly, like a flock of

young vultures, we were thronging around the poisoned Indian, to what we

would soon have rendered the harvest of death.

“Stomach pump eo instanti!” said one; “Sulphas Zinci cum Decoction

Tabacum!” said another; “Venesection!” suggested a third. “Puke of

Lobelia!” suggested a young disciple of Thompson, who self-invited had

joined the conclave, “Lobelia. Number six, pepper tea, yaller powders, I

say!”

“Turn him out! Turn him out! What right has young Roots in a mineral

consultation? Turn him out!”--and heels over head, out of the room,

through the middle door, and down the office steps, went “young Roots,”

impelled by the whole body of the enraged “regulars”--save myself, who,

determined amidst the array of medical lore not to appear ignorant,

wisely held my tongue and rubbed the patient's feet with a greased rag.

Again arose the jargon of voices.

“Sulphas Zinci--Stomach, Arteri, pump, otomy-must--legs--hot-toddy--to

bleed him--lectricity--hot blister--flat-irons--open his--windpipe but

still I said never a word, but rubbed his feet, wondering whether I

would ever acquire as much knowledge as my fellow students showed the

possession of. By the by, I was the only one that was doing anything for

the patient, the others being too busy discussing the case to attend to

the administration of any one of the remedies proposed.

“I say stimulate, the system is sinking,” screamed a tall, stout-looking

student, as the Indian slid down towards the foot of the bed.

“Bleeding is manifestly and clearly indicated,” retorted a bitter rival

in love as well as medicine, “his muscular action is too excessive,” as

Tubba made an ineffectual effort to throw his body up to the top of the

mosquito bar.

“Bleeding would be as good as murder,” said Number 1.

“Better cut his throat than stimulate him,” said Number 2.

“Pshaw!”

“Fudge!”

“Sir!”

“Fellow!”

“Fool!”

“Liar!”

Yim! Yim! and stomach-pump and brandy bottle flashed like meteors.

“Fight! fight! form a ring! fair play!”

“You're holding my friend.”

“You lie! You rascal!”

Vim! Vim! from a new brace of combatants.

“He's gouging my brother! I must help! foul play!”

“Let go my hair!” Vim! Vim! and a triplet went at it.

I stopped rubbing, and looked on with amazement. “Gentlemen, this is

unprofessional! 'tis undignified! 'tis disgraceful! stop, I command you!”

I yelled, but no one regarded me; some one struck me, and away I pitched

into the whole lot promiscuously, having no partner, the patient dying

on the bed whilst we were studying out his case.

“Fight! fight!” I heard yelled in the street, as I had finished giving

a lick all round, and could hardly keep pitching into the mirror to whip

my reflection, I wanted a fight so bad.

“Fight! fight! in D-5s back office!” and here came the whole town to see

the fun.

“I command the peace!” yelled Dick Locks; “I'm the mayor.”

“And I'm the hoss for you!” screamed I, doubling him up with a lick in

the stomach, which he replied to by laying me on my back, feeling very

faint, in the opposite corner of the room.

“I command the peace!” continued Dick, flinging one of the combatants

out of the window, another out of the door, and so on alternately, until

the peace was preserved by nearly breaking its infringers to pieces.

“What in the devil, Mr. Tensas, does this mean?” said my preceptor, who

at that moment came in; “what does all this fighting, and that drunken

Indian lying in your bed, mean? have you all been drunk?”

“He has poisoned himself, sir, in my absence, with the solution of

arsenic, which he took for whiskey; and as all the doctors were out of

town, I called in the students, and they got to fighting over him whilst

consulting;” I replied, very indignantly, enraged at the insinuation

that we had been drinking.

“Poisoned with solution of arsenic, ha! ha! oh! lord! ha!” and my

preceptor, throwing his burly form on the floor, rolled over and over,

making the office ring with his laughter--“poisoned, ha! ha!”

“Get out of this, you drunken rascal!” said he to the dying patient,

applying his horse-whip to him vigorously. It acted like a charm: giving

a loud yell of defiance, the old Choctaw sprang into the middle of the

floor.

“Whoop! whiskey lour! Injun big man, drunk heap. Whoop! Tubba big Injun

heap!” making tracks for the door, and thence to the swamp.

The truth must out. The boys had got into the habit of making too free

with my preceptor's whiskey; and to keep off all but the knowing one, he

had labelled it, “Solution of Arsenic.”

A TIGHT RACE CONSIDERIN'.

|During my medical studies, passed in a small village in Mississippi,

I became acquainted with a family named Hibbs (a _nom de plume_ of

course), residing a few miles in the country. The family consisted of

Mr. and Mrs. Hibbs and son. They were plain, unlettered people, honest

in intent and deed, but overflowing with that which amply made up for

all their deficiencies of education, namely, warm-hearted hospitality,

the distinguishing trait of southern character. They were originally

from Virginia, from whence they had emigrated in quest of a clime more

genial, and a soil more productive than that in which their fathers

toiled. Their search had been rewarded, their expectations realized, and

now, in their old age, though not wealthy in the “Astorian” sense, still

they had sufficient to keep the “wolf from the door,” and drop something

more substantial than condolence and tears in the hat that poverty hands

round for the kind offerings of humanity.

The old man was like the generality of old planters, men whose ambition

is embraced by the family or social circle, and whose thoughts turn

more on the relative value of “Sea Island” and “Mastodon,” and the

improvement of their plantations, than the “glorious victories of

Whig-gery in Kentucky,” or the “triumphs of democracy in Arkansas.”

The old lady was a shrewd, active dame, kind-hearted and long-tongued,

benevolent and impartial, making her coffee as strong for the poor

pedestrian, with his all upon his back, as the broadcloth sojourner,

with his “up-country pacer.” She was a member of the church, as well

as the daughter of a man who had once owned a race-horse: and these

circumstances gave her an indisputable right, she thought, to “let on

all she knew,” when religion or horse-flesh was the theme. At one moment

she would be heard discussing whether the new “circus rider,” (as she

always called him,) was as affecting in Timothy as the old one was

pathetic in Paul, and anon (not anonymous, for the old lady did

everything above board, except rubbing her corns at supper), protecting

dad's horse from the invidious comparisons of some visiter, who, having

heard, perhaps, that such horses as Fashion and Boston existed, thought

himself qualified to doubt the old lady's assertion that her father's

horse “Shumach” had run a mile on one particular occasion. “Don't tell

_me_,” was her never failing reply to their doubts, “Don't tell _me_

'bout Fashun or Bosting, or any other beating 'Shumach' a fair race, for

the thing was unfesible; did'nt he run a mile a minute by Squire Dim's

watch, which always stopt 'zactly at twelve, and did'nt he start a

minute afore, and git out, jes as the long hand war givin' its last

quiver on ketchin' the short leg of the watch? And didn't he beat

everything in Virginny 'cept once? Dad and the folks said he'd beat

then, if young Mr. Spotswood hadn't give 'old Swaga,' Shumach's rider,

some of that 'Croton water,' (that them Yorkers is makin' sich a fuss

over as bein' so good, when gracious knows, nothin' but what the doctors

call interconception could git me to take a dose) and jis 'fore the race

Swage or Shumach, I don't 'stinctly 'member which, but one of them had

to 'let down,' and so dad's hoss got beat.”

The son I will describe in few words. Imbibing his parents' contempt

for letters, he was very illiterate, and as he had not enjoyed the

equivalent of travel, was extremely ignorant on all matters not relating

to hunting or plantation duties. He was a stout, active fellow, with

a merry twinkling of the eye, indicative of humour, and partiality for

practical joking. We had become very intimate, he instructing me in

“forest lore,” and I, in return, giving amusing stories, or, what was as

much to his liking, occasional introductions to my hunting-flask.

Now that I have introduced the “Dramatis Personæ,” I will proceed with

my story. By way of relaxation, and to relieve the tedium incident

more or less to a student's life, I would take my gun, walk out to old

Hibbs's, spend a day or two, and return refreshed to my books.

One fine afternoon I started upon such an excursion, and as I had upon a

previous occasion missed killing a fine buck, owing to my having nothing

but squirrel shot, I determined to go this time for the “antlered

monarch,” by loading one barrel with fifteen “blue whistlers,” reserving

the other for small game.

At the near end of the plantation was a fine spring, and adjacent, a

small cave, the entrance artfully or naturally concealed, save to one

acquainted with its locality. The cave was nothing but one of those

subterraneous washes so common in the west and south, and called “sink

holes.” It was known only to young H. and myself, and we, for peculiar

reasons, kept secret, having put it in requisition as the depository

of a jug of “old Bourbon,” which we favoured, and as the old folks

abominated drinking, we had found convenient to keep there, whither we

would repair to get our drinks, and return to the house to hear them

descant on the evils of drinking, and “vow no 'drap,' 'cept in doctor's

truck, should ever come on their plantation.”

Feeling very thirsty, I took my way by the spring that evening. As I

descended the hill o'ertopping it, I beheld the hind parts of a bear

slowly being drawn into the cave. My heart bounded at the idea of

killing a bear, and my plans were formed in a second. I had no dogs--the

house was distant--and the bear becoming “small by degrees, and

beautifully less.” Every hunter knows, if you shoot a squirrel in the

head when it's sticking out of a hole, ten to one he'll jump out; and

I reasoned that if this were true regarding squirrels, might not the

operation of the same principle extract a bear, applying it low down in

the back.

Quick as thought I levelled my gun and fired, intending to give him the

buckshot when his body appeared; but what was my surprise and horror,

when, instead of a bear rolling out, the parts were jerked nervously in,

and the well-known voice of young H. reached my ears.

“Murder! Hingins! h--ll and kuckle-burs! Oh! Lordy' 'nuff!--'nuff!--take

him off! Jis let me off this wunst, dad, and I'll never run mam's colt

again! Oh! Lordy! Lordy! _all my brains blowed, clean out_! Snakes!

snakes!” yelled he, in a shriller tone, if possible, “H--ll on the

outside and snakes in the sink-hole! I'll die a Christian, anyhow, and

if I die before I wake,” and out scrambled poor H., pursued by a large

black-snake.

If my life had depended on it, I could not have restrained my laughter.

Down fell the gun, and down dropped I shrieking convulsively. The hill

was steep, and over and over I went, until my head striking against a

stump at the bottom, stopped me, half senseless. On recovering somewhat

from the stunning blow, I found Hibbs upon me, taking satisfaction from

me for having blowed out his brains. A contest ensued, and H. finally

relinquished his hold, but I saw from the knitting of his brows, that

the bear-storm, instead of being over, was just brewing. “Mr. Tensas,”

he said with awful dignity, “I'm sorry I put into you 'fore you cum to,

but you're at yourself now, and as you've tuck a shot at me, it's no

more than far I should have a chance 'fore the hunt's up.”

It was with the greatest difficulty I could get H. to bear with me until

I explained the mistake; but as soon as he learned it, he broke out in a

huge laugh. “Oh, Dod busted! that's 'nuff; you has my pardon. I ought to

know'd you didn't 'tend it; 'sides, you jis scraped the skin. I war wus

skeered than hurt, and if you'll go to the house and beg me off from

the old folks, I'll never let on you cuddent tell copperas breeches from

bar-skin.”

Promising that I would use my influence, I proposed taking a drink,

and that he should tell me how he had incurred his parent's anger. He

assented, and after we had inspected the cave, and seen that it held no

other serpent than the one we craved, we entered its cool recess, and H.

commenced.

“You see, Doc, I'd heered so much from mam 'bout her dad's Shumach and

his nigger Swage, and the mile a minute, and the Croton water what

was gin him, and how she bleved that if it warn't for bettin', and the

cussin' and fightin', running race-hosses warn't the sin folks said it

war; and if they war anything to make her 'gret gettin' religion and

jinin' the church, it war cos she couldn't 'tend races, and have a

race-colt of her own to comfort her 'clinin' years, sich as her daddy

had afore her, till she got me; so I couldn't rest for wantin' to see a

hoss-race, and go shares, p'raps, in the colt she war wishin' for. And

then I'd think what sort of a hoss I'd want him to be--a quarter nag, a

mile critter, or a hoss wot could run (fur all mam says it can't be

did) a whole four mile at a stretch. Sometimes I think I'd rather own a

quarter nag, for the suspense wouldn't long be hung, and then we could

run up the road to old Nick Bamer's cow-pen, and Sally is almost allers

out thar in the cool of the evenin'; and in course we wouldn't be so

cruel as to run the poor critter in the heat of the day. But then agin,

I'd think I'd rather have a miler,--for the 'citement would be greater,

and we could run down the road to old Wither's orchard, an' his gal Miry

is frightfully fond of sunnin' herself thar, when she 'spects me 'long,

and she'd hear of the race, certain; but then thar war the four miler

for my thinkin', and I'd knew'd in such case the 'citement would be

greatest of all, and you know, too, from dad's stable to the grocery is

jist four miles, an' in case of any 'spute, all hands would be willin'

to run over, even if it had to be tried a dozen times. So I never

could 'cide on which sort of a colt to wish for. It was fust one,

then t'others, till I was nearly 'stracted, and when mam, makin' me

religious, told me one night to say grace, I jes shut my eyes, looked

pious, and yelled out, 'D----n it, go!' and in 'bout five minutes arter,

came near kickin' dad's stumak off, under the table, thinkin' I war

spurrin' my critter in a tight place.. So I found the best way was to

get the hoss fust, and then 'termine whether it should be Sally Bamers,

and the cow-pen; Miry Withers, and the peach orchard; or Spillman's

grocery, with the bald face.

“You've seed my black colt, that one that dad's father gin me in his

will when he died, and I 'spect the reason he wrote that will war, that

he might have wun then, for it's more then he had when he was alive,

for granma war a monstrus overbearin' woman. The colt would cum up in my

mind, every time I'd think whar I was to git a hoss. 'Git out!' said I

at fust--he never could run, and 'sides if he could, mam rides him now,

an he's too old for anything, 'cept totin her and bein' called mine; for

you see, though he war named Colt, yet for the old lady to call him old,

would bin like the bar 'fecting contempt for the rabbit, on account of

the shortness of his tail.

“Well, thought I, it does look sorter unpromisin', but its colt or none;

so I 'termined to put him in trainin' the fust chance. Last Saturday,

who should cum ridin' up but the new cirkut preacher, a

long-legged, weakly, sickly,

never-contented-onless-the-best-on-the-plantation-war-cooked-fur-him

sort of a man; but I didn't look at him twice, his hoss was the critter

that took my eye; for the minute I looked at him, I knew him to be the

same hoss as Sam Spooner used to win all his splurgin' dimes with, the

folks said, and wot he used to ride past our house so fine on. The hoss

war a heap the wuss for age and change of masters; for preachers, though

they're mity 'ticular 'bout thar own comfort, seldom tends to thar

hosses, for one is privit property and 'tother generally borried. I seed

from the way the preacher rid, that he didn't know the animal he war

straddlin'; but I did, and I 'termined I wouldn't lose sich a chance

of trainin' Colt by the side of a hoss wot had run real races. So that

night, arter prayers and the folks was abed, I and Nigger Bill tuck the

hosses and carried them down to the pastur'. It war a forty-aker lot,

and consequently jist a quarter across--for I thought it best to promote

Colt, by degrees, to a four-miler. When we got thar, the preacher's

hoss showed he war willin'; but Colt, dang him! commenced nibblin' a

fodder-stack over the fence. I nearly cried for vexment, but an idea

struck me; I hitched the critter, and told Bill to get on Colt and stick

tight wen I giv' the word. Bill got reddy, and unbeknownst to him I

pulled up a bunch of nettles, and, as I clapped them under Colt's tail,

yelled, 'Go!' Down shut his graceful like a steel-trap, and away he

shot so quick an' fast that he jumpt clean out from under Bill, and got

nearly to the end of the quarter 'fore the nigger toch the ground: he

lit on his head, and in course warn't hurt--so we cotched Colt, an' I

mounted him.

“The next time I said 'go' he showed that age hadn't spiled his legs

or memory. Bill 'an me 'greed we could run him now, so Bill mounted

Preacher and we got ready. Thar war a narrer part of the track 'tween

two oaks, but as it war near the end of the quarter, I 'spected to pass

Preacher 'fore we got thar, so I warn't afraid of barkin' my shins.

“We tuck a fair start, and off we went like a peeled injun, an' I soon

'scovered that it warn't such an easy matter to pass Preacher, though

Colt dun delightful; we got nigh the trees, and Preacher warn't past

yet, an' I 'gan to get skeered, for it warn't more than wide enuf for

a horse and a half; so I hollered to Bill to hold up, but the imperdent

nigger turned his ugly pictur, and said, 'he'd be cussed if he warn't

goin' to play his han' out.' I gin him to understand he'd better fix for

a foot-race when we stopt, and tried to hold up Colt, but he wouldn't

stop. We reached the oaks, Colt tried to pass Preacher, Preacher

tried to pass Colt, and cowollop, crosh, cochunk! we all cum down like

'simmons arter frost. Colt got up and won the race; Preacher tried hard

to rise, but one hind leg had got threw the stirrup, an' tother in the

head stall, an' he had to lay still, doubled up like a long nigger in a

short bed. I lit on my feet, but Nigger Bill war gone entire. I looked

up in the fork of one of the oaks, and thar he war sittin', lookin' very

composed on surroundin' nature. I couldn't git him down till I promised

not to hurt him for disobeyin' orders, when he slid down. We'd 'nuff

racin' for that night', so we put up the hosses and went to bed.

“Next morning the folks got ready for church, when it was diskivered

that the hosses had got out. I an' Bill started off to look for them; we

found them cleer off in the field, tryin' to git in the pastur' to run

the last night's race over, old Blaze, the reverlushunary mule, bein'

along to act as judge.

“By the time we got to the house it war nigh on to meet-in' hour; and

dad had started to the preachin', to tell the folks to sing on, as

preacher and mam would be 'long bimeby. As the passun war in a hurry,

and had been complainin' that his creetur war dull, I 'suaded him to put

on uncle Jim's spurs what he fotch from Mexico. I saddled the passun's

hoss, takin' 'ticular pains to let the saddle-blanket come down low in

the flank. By the time these fixins war threw, mam war 'head nigh on to

a quarter. 'We must ride on, passun,' I said, 'or the folks 'll think we

is lost.' So I whipt up the mule I rid, the passun chirrupt and chuct to

make his crittur gallop, but the animal didn't mind him a pic. I 'gan

to snicker, an' the passun 'gan to git vext; sudden he thought of his

spurs, so he ris up, an' drove them _vim_ in his hoss's flanx, till

they went through his saddle-blanket, and like to bored his nag to the

holler. By gosh! but it war a quickener--the hoss kickt till the passun

had to hug him round the neck to keep from pitchin' him over his head.

He next jumpt up 'bout as high as a rail fence, passun holdin' on and

tryin' to git his spurs--but they war lockt--his breeches split plum

across with the strain, and the piece of wearin' truck wot's next the

skin made a monstrous putty flag as the old hoss, like drunkards to a

bar-bacue, streakt it up the road.

“Mam war ridin' slowly along, thinkin' how sorry she was, cos Chary

Dolin, who always led her off, had sich a bad cold, an' wouldn't be able

to 'sist her singin' to-day. She war practisin' the hymns, and had got

as far as whar it says, 'I have a race to run,' when the passun huv in

sight, an' in 'bout the dodgin' of a diedapper, she found thar war truth

in the words, for the colt, hearin' the hoss cumin' up behind, began to

show symptoms of runnin'; but when he heard the passun holler 'wo! wo!'

to his hoss, he thought it war me shoutin' 'go!' and sure 'nuff off they

started jis as the passun got up even; so it war a fair race. Whoop!

git out, but it war egsitin'--the dust flew, and the rail-fence appeered

strate as a rifle. Thar war the passun, his legs fast to the critter's

flanx, arms lockt round his neck, face as pale as a rabbit's belly, and

the white flag streemin' far behind--and thar war Mam, fust on one side,

then on t'other, her new caliker swelled up round her like a bear with

the dropsy, the old lady so much surprized she cuddent ride steddy, an'

tryin' to stop her colt, but he war too well trained to stop while he

heard 'go!' Mam got 'sited at last, and her eyes to glimmer like she

seen her daddy's ghost axin.' 'if he ever trained up a child or a

race-hoss to be 'fraid of a small brush on a Sunday,' she commenced

ridin' beautiful; she braced herself up in the saddle, and began to make

calkerlations how she war to win the race, for it war nose and nose,

and she saw the passun spurrut' his critter every jump. She tuk off her

shoe, and the way a number ten go-to-meetin' brogan commenced givin' a

hoss particular Moses, were a caution to hoss-flesh--but still it kept

nose and nose.

[Illustration: 0049]

“She found she war carryin' too much weight for Colt, so she 'gan to

throw off plunder, till nothin' was left but her saddle and close,

and the spurs kept tellin' still. The old woman commenced strippin' to

lighten, till it wouldn't bin the clean thing for her to have taken

off one dud more; an' then when she found it war no use while the spurs

lasted, she got cantankerous. 'Passun,' said she, 'I'll be cust if it's

fair or gentlemanly for you, a preacher of the gospel, to take advantage

of an old woman this way, usin' spurs when you know _she_ can't wear

'em--'taint Christian-like nuther,' and she burst into cryin'. 'Wo! Miss

Hibbs! Wo! Stop! Madam! Wo! Your son!'--he attempted to say, when the

old woman tuck him on the back of the head, and fillin' his mouth with

right smart of a saddle-horn, and stop-pin' the talk, as far as his

share went for the present.

“By this time they'd got nigh on to the meetin'-house, and the folks

were harkin' away on 'Old Hundred,' and wonderin' what could have become

of the passun and mam Hibbs. One sister in a long beard axt another

brethren in church, if she'd heered anything 'bout that New York

preecher runnin' way with a woman old enough to be his muther. The

brethrens gin a long sigh an' groaned 'it ain't possible! marciful

heavens! you don't 'spicion?' wen the sound of the hosses comin', roused

them up like a touch of the agur, an' broke off their sarpent-talk. Dad

run out to see what was to pay, but when he seed the hosses so close

together, the passun spurrin', and mam ridin' like close war skase whar

she cum, he knew her fix in a second, and 'tarmined to help her; so

clinchin' a sap-lin', he hid 'hind a stump 'bout ten steps off, and held

on for the hosses. On they went in beautiful style, the passun's

spurs tellin' terrible, and mam's shoe operatin' 'no small pile of

punkins,'--passun stretched out the length of two hosses, while mam sot

as stiff and strate as a bull yearling in his fust fight, hittin' her

nag, fust on one side, next on t'other, and the third for the passun,

who had chawed the horn till little of the saddle, and less of his teeth

war left, and his voice sounded as holler as a jackass-nicker in an old

saw-mill.

“The hosses war nose and nose, jam up together so close that mam's last

kiverin' and passun's flag had got lockt, an' 'tween bleached domestic

and striped linsey made a beautiful banner for the pious racers.

“On they went like a small arthquake, an' it seemed like it war goin'

to be a draun race; but dad, when they got to him, let down with all his

might on colt, searin' him so bad that he jumpt clean ahead of passun,

beatin' him by a neck, buttin' his own head agin the meetin'-house, an'

pitchin' mam, like a lam for the 'sacryfise, plum through the winder

'mongst the mourners, leavin' her only garment flutterin' on a nail in

the'sash. The men shot their eyes and scrambled outen the house, an' the

women gin mam so much of their close that they like to put themselves in

the same fix.

“The passun quit the circuit, and I haven't been home yet.”

TAKING GOOD ADVICE.

“Poor fellow! if he had only listened to me! but he wouldn't take good

advice,” is the trite exclamation of the worldling when he hears that

some friend has cut his throat, impelled by despair, or has become

bankrupt, or employed a famous physician, or is about to get married,

or has applied for a divorce, or paid his honest debts, or committed any

deprecated act, or become the victim of what the world calls misfortune;

“poor fellow, but he wouldn't take good advice.” Take good advice! yes,

if I had obeyed what is called good advice, I would be now in my grave;

as it is, I am still on a tailor's books, the best evidence of a man's

being alive.

When I was a boy my friends were continually chiding me for my half bent

position in sitting or walking, and since I have become a man the cry

is still the same, “Why don't you walk straight, Madison? hold up your

head.” Had I obeyed them, a tree-top that fell upon me whilst visiting

a patient lately, crushing my shoulder and bruising my back, would

have fallen directly upon my head, and shown, in all probability, the

emptiness of earthly things. This is one instance showing that good

advice is not always best to be taken; but I have another, illustrating

my position still more strongly.

Whilst a medical student, I was travelling on one of the proverbially

fine and accommodating steamers that ply between Vicksburg and New

Orleans. Before my departure, the anxious affection of a female friend

made her exact a promise from me not to play cards; but the peculiarity

of the required pledge gave me an opportunity of fulfilling it to the

letter, but breaking it as to the spirit. “You've promised me, Madison,

not to play cards whilst you're on _earth_: see that you keep it.” I

assured her I would do so, as it applied only to shore, and when the

boat was on a sand-bar. It was more her friendly solicitude than any

real necessity in my habits, that made her require the promise, as I

never played except on steamboats, and then only at night, when the

beautiful scenery that skirts the river cannot be seen or admired.

It was a boisterous night above in the heavens, making the air too cool

for southern dress or nerves, so the cabin and social hall were densely

crowded, not a small proportion engaged in the mysteries of that science

which requires four knaves to play or practise it. I had not yet sat

down, but showed strong premonitory symptoms of being about to do so,

when my arm was gently taken by an old friend, who requested me to walk

with him into our state-room. “Madison,” said the old gentleman, “I

want to give you some good advice. I see you are about to play cards for

money; you are a young man, and consequently have but little knowledge

of its pernicious effects. I speak from experience; and apart from the

criminality of gambling, I assure you, you will have but little chance

of winning in the crowd you intend playing with: in fact, you are

certain to lose. Now promise me you won't play, and I shall go to bed

with the satisfaction that I have saved you from harm.” The charm was

laid too skilfully upon me; I would not promise, for what was I to do in

the long nights of present and future travel? so my old friend gave me

up in despair, and retired to rest, whilst I sought the card-table.

Young and inexperienced as I was, an unusual strain of good luck

attended me; and when the game broke up at daylight, I was considerably

ahead of the hounds.

I retired to my state-room to regain my lost sleep, and soon was

oblivious of everything. How long I slept I do not know: my dreams ran

upon the past game; and just as I held “four aces,” and had seen my

opponent's two hundred and went him four hundred dollars better, I was

aroused from my slumbers by the confused cries of “Fire! Back her!

Stop her! She'll blow up when she strikes!” and a thousand-and-one

undistinguishable sounds, but all indicative of intense excitement and

alarm.

Stopping for nothing, I made one spring from my berth into the middle of

the cabin, alighting on the deserted breakfast-table, amidst the crash

of broken crockery, three jumps more were taken, which landed me up on

the hurricane-deck, where I found nearly all the passengers, male and

female, assembled in a fearful state of alarm, preventing by their

outcry the necessary orders, for the preservation of the boat, from

being heard. I took in the whole scene at a glance. I forgot to mention,

when I retired to rest, the wind was blowing to such a degree that every

gust threatened to overset the boat. The captain, who was a prudent,

sensible man, had tied his boat to the shore, waiting for the storm to

subside. After the lapse of a few hours, a calm having ensued, he cast

loose, intending to proceed on his way; but scarcely had he done so,

when the wind, suddenly increasing, caught the boat, and, in despite of

six boilers and the helm hard down, was carrying her directly across the

Mississippi, towards the opposite shore, where a formidable array of old

“poke-stalks” and low, bluff banks were eagerly awaiting to impale us

upon the one hand, or knock us into a cocked hat upon the other. At this

time I arrived upon the scene--the boat was nearly at the shore, the

waters boiling beneath her bows like an infernal cauldron.

Great as was the danger, there were still some so reckless as to make

remarks upon my unique appearance, and turn the minds of many from that

condition of religious revery and mental casting up and balancing of

accounts, which the near proximity to death so imminently required; and

certainly I did look queer--no boots, no coat, no drawers--but, lady

reader, don't think my bosom was false, and I had no subuculus on. “I

didn't have anything else” on--more truth than poetry, I ween. Sixteen

young ladies, unmindful of danger, ran shrieking away; fourteen married

ones walked leisurely to the stern of the boat, where the captain had

been vainly before trying to drive them; whilst two old maids stood

and looked at me in unconscious astonishment, wonderful amazement, and

inexpressible surprise.

“Look out!” rang the shrill voice of the captain; and, with a dull,

heavy thump, the boat struck the bank, jarring the marrow of every one

on board, save myself--for, just before she struck, I calculated the

distance, made my jump, landed safely, and was snugly ensconced behind a

large log, hallooing for some one to bring me my clothes.

No damage of consequence, contrary to expectations, was done our craft;

and after digging her out of the bank, we proceeded on our way, a heavy

rain having succeeded the storm.

I was lying in my state-room, ruminating sadly over the pleasureableness

of being the laughing-stock of the whole boat, when my old adviser of

the night previous entered the room, with too much laughter on his face

to make his coming moral deduction of much force.

“You see now, Madison, the result of not having followed my advice. Had

you been governed by me, the disagreeable event of the morning would

never have occurred; you would have been in bed at the proper hour,

slept during the proper hours, been ready dressed as a consequence at

the breakfast hour, and not been the cause of such a mortal shock to the

delicacy of so many delicate females, besides making a d--d unanimous

fool of yourself.”

I said but little in reply, but thought a great deal. I kept my room the

balance of the trip, sickness being my plea.

I transacted my business in the city, and chance made my old adviser and

myself fellow-passengers and roommates again, on our upward trip. Night

saw me regularly at the card-table, and my old friend at nine o'clock as

constantly in bed.

It was after his bed-hour when we reached Grand Gulf, where several

lady-passengers intended leaving. They were congregated in the middle

of the gentlemen's cabin, bringing out baggage and preparing to leave as

soon as the boat landed.

At the landing a large broad-horn was lazily sleeping, squatted on

the muddy waters like a Dutch beauty over a warming-pan. Her

steering-oar--the broad-horn's, not the beauty's--instead of projecting,

as custom and the law requires, straight out behind, had swung round,

and stood capitally for raking a boat coming up along side. The engines

had stopped, but the boat had not lost the impetus of the steam, but was

slowly approaching the broad-horn, when a crash was head--a state-room

door was burst open, and out popped my ancient comrade, followed up

closely by a sharp stick, in the shape of the greasy handle of the

steering-oar. It passed directly through my berth, and would undeniably

have killed me, had I been in it.

It was my turn to exult now. I pulled “Old Advice” out from under the

table, and, as I congratulated him on his escape, maliciously added,

“You see, now, that playing cards is not totally unattended with good

effects. Had. I, agreeably to your advice, been in bed, I would now be

a mangled corpse, and you enjoying the satisfaction that it was your

counsel that had killed me; whilst, on the other hand, had you been

playing, you would have escaped your fright, and the young ladies from

Nankin in all probability would never have known you slept in a red

bandana.” I made a convert of him to my side; we sat down to a quiet

game, and before twelve that night he broke me flat.

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.

Every one is acquainted with the horror that the presence of the

small-pox, or the rumour--which is as bad--of its being in the

neighbourhood, excites. A planter living some thirty or forty miles

from where I was studying, had returned from New Orleans, where he had

contracted, as it afterwards turned out, the measles, but which, on

their first appearance, had been pronounced by a young, inexperienced

physician, who was first in attendance, an undoubted case of small-pox.

The patient was a nervous, excitable man, and consequently very much

alarmed; wishing further advice, he posted a boy after my preceptor,

who, desirous of giving me an opportunity of seeing the disease, took me

with him.

The planter lived near a small town in the interior, now no more, but

which, in the minds of its projectors--judging from its lithographed

map--was destined to rival the first cities of the land. The nature of

the disease was apparent in a moment to my preceptor's experienced

eye; but the excitability and fear of the patient had aggravated the

otherwise simple disease, so that it presented some really alarming

symptoms.

A liberal administration of the brandy bottle soon reassured the patient

and moderated the disease, so that my preceptor, whose presence was

urgently demanded at home, could intrust him to my care, giving me

directions how to treat the case. He left for home, and I strutted

about, proud in the consciousness of being attending physician. It being

my first appearance in that capacity, you may imagine that the patient

did not suffer for want of attention. I wore the enamel nearly off his

teeth by the friction produced by requiring the protrusion of his tongue

for examination, and examined his abdomen so often to detect hidden

inflammation, that I almost produced, by my pommelling, what I was

endeavouring to discover in the first place. In despite of the disease

and doctor, the case continued to improve, and I intended leaving in

the morning for home, when the alarm of the small-pox being in the

settlement having spread, I was put in requisition to vaccinate the good

people. Charging a dollar for each operation, children half price, I was

reaping a harvest of small change, when the virus gave out, and plenty

of calls still on hand. Knowing that there was no smallpox in the first

instance, and apprehensive that the fears of the good folks, unless they

imagined themselves protected, might produce bad effects. I committed

a pious fraud, and found on the back of my horse, which fortunately

had been galled lately, an ample supply of virus. My labours at

length terminated, and I prepared to depart, taking the small town

before-mentioned in my way; I dismounted at the tavern, to get a drink

and have my horse watered. On entering, I found several acquaintances

whom I did not expect to meet in that section of the country. Mutually

rejoiced at the meeting, it did not take us long to get on the threshold

of one of those wild carouses, which the convivial disposition of the

Southerner--either by birth or adoption--so unfortunately disposes him

to. The Bacchanalian temple was soon entered, and not a secret recess

of its grand proportions but what was explored. Night closed upon the

scene, and found us prepared for any wild freak or mad adventure.

It was the southern autumn, when the dark-eyed night has just sufficient

compassion on old winter's wooing to allow him the privilege of the

shadow of a kiss,--just cool enough, in other words, they were, to

reconcile us to a single blanket upon the bed, and draw from the

meditative minds of poverty-stricken students a melancholy sigh, when

the empty pocket reflects upon the almost equally naked back, and curses

it for needing winter clothes at all at all.

As yet, however, there had been no frost, and the forests still remained

decked in their holiday suits, the gorgeous apparel of a southern clime.

With those who have a soul that the shoemaker cannot save, this is the

great season of camp-meetings, love-feasts, protracted preaching, and

other religious festivals. At this particular time the religious world,

and many who were not of that stamp, were on the lookout for the end of

the world, and the day of judgment, which some theological calculator

had figured up for this year, and no postponement on account of the

weather, sure!

The prediction had produced great excitement amongst all with whom

the prophet had any credit; and where his credit stopped other

commenced--for some of the knowing ones, who firmly believed the

prophecy, purchased any amount of goods at exorbitant prices, at twelve

months' credit, thinking they would be in “Kingdom Come” before the

notes fell due.

Camp-meetings were being held in all parts of the country, and

prayers of all kinds, from the unpremeditated effusion of the

conscience-stricken negro to the elaborate supplications of the

regularly initiated circuit-rider, arose, making the welkin ring with

the name of Jehovah. A large meeting was in full operation not far from

the place where we were passing the night in less commendable pursuits;

and, judging from the fervency of the prayers, declamations, singing,

screamings, and glorifications, salvation was being obtained in a very

satisfactory manner. The location of the camp was in the verge of the

Loosa Chitta swamp, at the termination of a long lane, which extended

from where we were.

The night was waning away, but still the zeal of the camp-meeting

continued unabated, and bid fair to hail the morning. We had also

reached our wildest state of excitement, and were consequently ready for

any foolish scheme or reckless undertaking. The proposal of one of

the most imaginative of the number, that we should personify the fiery

consummation which revelation tells us shall terminate this world, met

with unanimous and wild approval.

Each man furnishing himself with a flowing robe of white, half

the number--nearly thirty--carrying horns, and the remainder

large turpentine torches, we prepared to make our descent upon the

camp-meeting in the character of the “Day of Judgment.” There was

a large stray mule in the stable yard of the tavern, and we cruelly

impressed him as a chief actor. By this time the religionists, exhausted

by their long-continued exertions, had sunk into repose.

Saturating the mule's hide--which was long and shaggy--well with

turpentine and tar, all but his head and neck, which we wrapped in a wet

sheet, we led him to the mouth of the lane and applied a torch.

Quicker than lightning the fire spread over the body of the devoted

animal. With a scream of terror and anguish it darted off up the lane

in the direction of the camp, whilst we mounted, with our long mantles

floating behind us, yelling like incarnate fiends, sounding our horns,

and, our many torches flashing like meteors through the night, pressed

on after it in hot and close pursuit.

On! on! rushed the mule, the flames swelling tumultuously on every side,

eddying above the trees, and lighting the darkness with a vivid, lurid

gleam; fiercer and faster than the dread tempest, carrying death in its

track, sped he on under the terrible infliction.

We had nearly reached the camp-ground, when, as we approached the

plantation of the widow H., which lay adjacent, we were discovered by

an old negro, who, seated on the flat roof of his cabin, had gone fast

asleep, watching through the long hours of the night, for fear that the

end of the world, and the day of judgment, might slip upon him unawares.

Waking at the critical time our hellish cortege approached, he gazed a

moment, with eyes stretched to their utmost capacity, upon the rapidly

nearing volume of fire; then springing from the roof, he ran shrieking

his dolesome summons to the camp: “White folks riz! De Laud be marsyful!

De end of de warld an' de day of judgmen' hab pass, and here cums hell

rite up de lane! Whoop! I love my Jesus! Master, cum!”

The meeting, awakened from their slumbers by his turmoil, rushed out,

and when they too saw the approaching fire-breathing mass, they

believed with the negro, that the day of judgment had passed, and

Pandemonium--hot at that--was coming with its awful torments.

Supplications for mercy, screams of anguish, prayers and blasphemies,

horror-stricken moans of the converts, the maniacal shouts of the

conscience-stricken sinners, and the calm collected songs of the really

righteous, swelled on the wind; mingled with the roaring of the flames,

our piercing yells, discordant horns, and the horrible cries of the

consuming animal.

The thousand echoes of the swamp took up the sound, and the wild-wood,

if filled with screaming devils, could not have given back a more

hideous outcry.

On! on! sped the victim--we in his train--in his haste to reach the

waters of the “Loosa Chitta” and allay his sufferings. The stream

was nearly reached; with ecstasy the poor brute beheld the glistening

waters; he sped on with accelerated steps--one more spring, and he would

find surcease of anguish 'neath their cooling waves. But he was

destined never to reach them; he fell exhausted on the brink, vainly

endeavouring, with extended neck, to allay his fiery thirst; as the

flame, now bereft of fuel, sent up its last flickering ray, the poor

mule, with a low reproachful moan, expired.

A RATTLESNAKE ON A STEAMBOAT.

|Shortly before the usual time for wending my way North to the medical

lectures, an opportunity was afforded me by an ingenious negro, who had

caught the reptile asleep, of exchanging a well-worn blanket coat

and two dimes,--principally in cash--for as fine a specimen of the

Rattlesnake as ever delighted the eye or ear of a naturalist; nine

inches across the small of the back, six feet seven-eighths of an inch

in length, eyes like globular lightning, colours as gaudy as an Arkansas

gal's apron, twenty-three rattles and a button, and a great propensity

to make them heard, were the strong points of my purchase.

Designing him as a propitiatory offering to one of the professors, my

next care was to furnish him with a fitting habitation. Nothing better

presenting itself, I made him one out of a pine box, originally designed

for shoes, by nailing thin slats transversely, so as neither to exclude

air or vision, but sufficiently close, I thought, to prevent him from

escaping. The day for my departure arrived, and I had his snakeship

carried on board the boat destined to bear me to V--------, where I

would take an Ohio steamer.

Unfortunately for the quietude of my pet, on the Yazoo boat was a young

cockney lady, who, hearing that there was a live rattlesnake on board,

allowed her curiosity to overcome her maiden diffidence sufficiently to

prefer a request that the young doctor “would make 'is hanimal oiler?”

a process which the proverbial abstemiousness when in confinement of the

“hanimal” was accomplishing rapidly without any intervention on my part.

Politeness would not allow me to refuse, and as it was considerable of a

novelty to the passengers, his snakeship was kept constantly stirred up,

and his rattles had very little rest that trip.

The steamer at length swung alongside the wharf boat at V--------, and

transferring my baggage, I lounged about until the arrival of a boat

would give me an opportunity of proceeding. The contents of the box were

quickly discovered; and the snake had to undergo the same inflictions

as the day previous--until, thoroughly vexed, I made them desist, and

resolved thenceforth I would conceal his presence and allow him to

travel as common baggage.

“The shades of night were falling fast,” as the steamer Congress came

booming along, and, after a detention of a few minutes for passengers,

proceeded on her way, obtaining none however except myself. The

snake-box was placed with the other baggage on the cabin deck in front

of the “social hall,” jam up, as luck would have it, against one of the

chimneys, making the location unpleasantly warm. It was one of those

clear, luminous nights in autumn, when not a cloud dims the azure, and

the heavens so “beautifully blue,” (Alas! poor Neal,) are gleaming with

their myriad stars, when the laughing breeze lifts the hair off the brow

and presses the cheek with as soft a touch as the pulpy lips of a maiden

in her first essay at kissing. The clear, croupy cough of the steamer

was echoed back in prolonged asthmatic strains from the dark woods

lining the river, like an army of cowled gigantic monks come from their

cells to see a steamboat. Supper was over, and the beauty of the night

had enticed the majority of the passengers from the cabin to the open

deck.

A goodly number, myself amongst the rest, were seated in front of the

social hall, smoking our cigars, and swapping yarns of all climes,

sizes, nations, and colours.

Sitting a few yards from me, the most prominent personage of the group,

smoking a chiboque, and regaling the crowd with the manner in which he

choked a “Cobra de Capello” to death that crawled into his hammock in

India, was an old English sailor, who, from his own account, had sailed

over all the world, and through some parts of it.

Weighing the words down with a heavy ballast of oaths, he said he

“wasn't afraid of anything in the snake line, from the sea serpent down

to the original snake that tempted Eve.” I asked him if he had ever met

the rattlesnake since he had been in America, thinking I would put his

courage to the test on the morrow.

“Seen a rattlesnake? Yes, enough to sink a seventy-four? Went to Georgia

on purpose to kill them. Pshaw! To think a man that had killed a boa

constrictor, fair fight, should be fraid of a little noisy flirt of a

snake that never grew bigger round than a marlin spike!”

At this moment the boat was running a bend near in shore, and the glare,

of a huge fire at a wood-yard was thrown directly under the chair of the

braggart, when, to my utter amazement I saw there, snugly coiled up, the

huge proportions of my _snake!_

I was so astonished and horrified that I could neither speak nor move.

I had left him securely fastened in his cage, and yet there he was at

liberty, in his deadly coil, his eyes gleaming like living coals. The

light was intercepted, and the foot of the sailor moving closer to the

reptile it commenced its warning rattle, but slowly and irregularly,

showing it was not fully aroused.

“What is that?” exclaimed a dozen voices.

The foot being withdrawn, the rattling ceased before its nature or

source could be clearly traced.

“'Twas the steam escaping,” said one.

“A goose hissing,” said another.

“The wind.”

“A trick to scare the sailor,” thought a good many; but _I knew it was a

rattlesnake in his deadly coil!_

The horror of that moment I shall not attempt to describe; every second

I expected to hear the shriek of the sailor as the deadly fangs would

penetrate his flesh, and I knew if a vein were stricken no power on

earth could avail him, and I powerless to warn him of his danger.

“It sounded monstrous like a rattlesnake!” observed a passenger, “but

there are no doctors or fool students on board, and nobody but cusses

like them would be taking snakes 'bout.

“I was gwine up the Massassip wunst when a rattlesnake belonging to a

medercal student on board, got out and bit one of the passengers; the

poor crittur didn't live ten minutes, and the sawbone's 'prentice not

much longer I reckon.”

My hair stood on end, for there was an earnestness about the man that

told me he was not joking.

“You did'nt kill him, surely?” asked some one.

“Oh, no! we did'nt 'zactly kill him, sich as cuttin' his throat, or

puttin' lead in his holler cimblin, for that would have been takin' the

law inter our own hands; but we guv him five hundred lashes, treated

him to a coat of tar and feathers, made a clean crop of one ear, and a

swal-low-forked-slit-under-bit-and-half-crop of the other, an' put him

out on a little island up to his mouth in water an' the river risin' a

plum foot an hour!”

Not knowing but a similar fate might soon be mine, in agony, with the

cold sweat streaming over me. I listened to this infernal recital of

an instance of the summary punishment termed “Lynch Law,” to which the

unavailability of the statute law so often drove the early settlers, and

which, unfortunately for the fair character of the South and West, is

not yet entirely abolished.

The sailor must again have moved his foot closer than agreeable to the

snake, for his infernal rattling recommenced, and _this time_ clear,

loud, and continuous to the tutored ear, indicating great danger, the

prelude to a fatal spring.

I shook off my lethargy, and shrieked out, “Don't move for your life! a

light! for God's sake bring a light! Quick! quick!” None moved--thinking

I was jesting.

“Mister,” spoke the sailor, “if it's a trick to scare me, you'll

miss the figure with your child's rattle. Jes bring one of your real

rattlesnakes along, and I'll show you whether he can frighten an English

sailor or not.”

Hearing me calling so loudly for a light, the mate, a stalwart Irishman,

came running up with a large torch, but hardly had he reached the deck,

when he discovered the monster--his head drawn back ready for striking.

[Illustration:067]

“Snake! snake!” yelled he, punching at him with his glaring torch.

“Whereabouts, you lubber?” said the sailor, still suspecting a trick.

“Under your feet.”

The sailor looked down, and beheld the hideous reptile directly under

his chair. With a loud yell, he made but one spring over the guards into

the river.

“Rattlesnake!”

“Man overboard!”

“Stop her!”

“Out with the yawl!”

“Fire!”

“Snake!”

“She's sinking!”

“Shoot him!”

“Snake!”

“Whose is it?”

“Lynch the rascal!”

“Kill the scoundrel!” swelled on the air, mingled with the crashing of

broken doors and chairs, the oaths and rushing of terrified men, and

the screaming of still more terrified women, who knew not what to fear,

while clear and distinct above the infernal melée arose the piercing

rattle of the snake, who, writhing his huge proportions about, and

striking at everything near him, seemed to glory in the confusion he had

created.

A shot was heard, and then the coil collapsed, and the rattling slowly

ceased. The snake was dead.

“Who brought him on board?”

“Let's lynch the scoundrel!”

“Are there any more of them?”

“Here's the box he got out of!”

_My name was on it_ in large capitals.

“Throw it overboard!”

“Throw it overboard!” I yelled out, “it may have more in it, throw it

overboard.”

No sooner said than done, and as the only evidence of my participation

floated over the wave, no one was louder in his denunciation, no one

wanted to be shown--in order that he might be lynched--the rascal

that brought it on board, more than I did, except, perhaps, it was the

sailor, who, now thoroughly humbled, stood shivering in his wet clothes

by the furnace, ready to acknowledge that the “little, noisy flirt of

an American snake, no larger than a marlin' spike,” was “some snakes”

certain.

FRANK AND THE PROFESSOR.

|It wanted but a few days of the commencement of the lectures. Having

procured a boarding-house, and furnished myself with the necessary books

and tickets, I was sauntering over the city, amusing myself with the

many strange sights which pass unnoticed by the denizens, yet have such

an attraction for the grave rat just emerged from the country, when I

was hailed by a Southern acquaintance--a rattling, red-headed fellow,

of Irish descent; the proof of which, the tip of his tongue always

presented.

“How are you, Tensas--when did you arrive--slayed many the past summer?

I brought them to their senses in my section, certain; for the grand

jury found a true bill against me in thirteen cases for manslaughter.

Let's take a drink. Ha! ha! I want to tell you of an occurrence that

happened to old----. Bless his sugar-loaf head! if he'd only let me left

when I first wanted, I'd always hereafter write his name without the

first letter. You see, Ten, I had letters of introduction for the old

chap; and I thought I'd deliver them early, and get on his good side

before the winter's course of sprees commenced. I suppose you know,

as he's a widower, and writing a book, and deeply in debt--to his

Maker--that he lives up in the college, and cooks his own victuals,

and has quite a retired life of it, as my uncle the postmaster

remarked about his own situation, when the department gave him his

walking-papers. Well, I went up to his room when everything was quiet

about the college, thinking what a nice scientific disquisition we could

have, if the old gentleman, knowing I was a hunter, was to ask me why

the rings on a coon's tail didn't grow parallel to the axis of its long

diameter, instead of the short; or, to which fowl did a young duck owe

the most filial love--to the duck that laid the egg, or the hen that

hatched it? And such like questions, worthy of being lucubrated upon by

great minds only.

“I found the old gentleman very complacent and easy, standing up in his

night-shirt and making whiskey-toddy in a teapot, whilst he gave the

last touch to an introductory oration for the P. T. S.

“'Prof.--------, I presume?' said I, knocking at the door after I had

opened it--thinking, that as I had forgotten it at first, it would be an

imputation on Southern manners to neglect it entirely.

“'The same,' said he, with the most perfect composure, knocking his

oration into the stove, upsetting his punch, and leaving half of his

subuculus on a nail as he jumped into the next room; whilst I, pulling

off my boots, and finishing what little punch had not run out, told him

not to distress himself putting on his best clothes, or preparing much

dinner, as I had lunched very heartily.

“In a few moments he returned, and seemed to be in the best humour

imaginable at the perfect homeability I was surrounding myself with.

“Thinking him a queer one, I resolved on making myself as agreeable

as possible, as I saw from the way his face was screwed up he had the

toothache badly and needed comfort; so I asked him how long his wife

had been dead, and whether there was any truth in the report that he was

courting a widow on Fifth Street; also, if he bought his Irish whiskey

by the gallon or cask; he apparently did not hear these kind inquiries,

but asked if I had not a letter of introduction.

“'True for you, I have, and there it is,' handing him a fifty dollar

bill; it belongs to me, and I'm Frank Me--------; take the price of your

winter's jaw out of it, and we'll see what's in town with the balance.'

“He got well of his toothache in a moment. 'Happy to make your

acquaintance; you're from the southern swamps, plenty of chill and fever

there; permit me to read for your critical attention a few pages I have

written in my book on the subject.'

“'With the greatest pleasure in the world,' I replied; 'allow me to

subscribe to your work; deduct it out of the fifty.' He commenced

reading a description of a Mississippi agur, and cuss me if it wasn't

so natural I shivered all over; and the tears pop't out of my eyes like

young pigeons out of a loft, when I thought of the last shake I had in

far distant Massassip, sitting on a muddy log fighting the mosquitoes,

and waiting for a steamboat to bear me from her friendly bosom. You

ought to have heard him when he described the awful effects it had upon

our gals, developing their spleens, and bringing the punkin to their

blessed faces; there was a pathos in his language, a tremor in his

voice, soft as the warbling of a he-dove before he pitches into a

pea-patch.

“'Then it is,' he read, 'when the deleterious emanations of the

decomposing vegetation have penetrated the inmost recesses and

mysterious intricacies of the corporeal constituents of the intellectual

inhabitants, that humanity instigates the benevolent individual to

mournfully and sadly deliberate over the probable effects, after a

perpetuity of continuance of such morbific impressions.'

“I was delighted at the grand simplicity of his expression, and was

giving my approbation too much vent, when tap, tap, went something at

the door.

“'And even beauteous woman,' continued the professor, 'goes a'--tap,

tap--'whilst ever is heard'--tap, tap--' and nature assimilating'--tap,

tap--'mournfully weeps over the silent'--bom, bom, went the outsider,

growing impatient. 'Bless me! who's there? come in,'--and an hour-glass,

the sand nearly out, was substituted for the punch-bowl--'Come in;'

the door opened, and gave admittance to what would have been a handsome

young woman, had the care in her heart not written 'at home' so legibly

on her cheek. 'Take a seat, ma'am.'

“'I will call again, professor,' said I, rising.

“'No, no, sir, sit down, sir. Madam, how can I serve you?'

“'I am in a great hurry, professor,' I said again, seizing my hat.

“'No, sir, I insist you must not leave. Madam, what do you want?' and

the poor professor jumped from his seat to the door, and from the door

to his seat, asking, almost sternly, 'Madam, what do you want?'

“'I'm a poor widow, with a large family of children, and hearing that

you were a very charitable gentleman, and--' “'Professor, I cannot stand

this pitiable narrative. Madam, there is some money for you. You must

indeed excuse me. I shall not be able to restrain my tears.'

“'No, sir, stay, I command you, I insist. Woman, what do you want? in

the name of virtue, what do you want?' The widow commenced her piteous

appeal again, when, quite overcome, I rushed from the room, followed by

the voice of the ruined professor, who feared that his reputation was

for ever gone. 'Woman, in the name of Jehovah, what _do you_ want?'”

Poor Frank! Death's dark garniture hath clothed his piercing eye;

friendship and sorrow no more thrill his heart, and the noisome worm

revels in the home of high and noble daring. He died! not on

the sick-bed, with mourning friends gathered around, but on the

battle-field, fighting for his country, on the victor soldier's bed--the

body of his foe. And of all the warm leal hearts that were stilled,

of all the true spirits that floated up to God, from thy glorious but

bloody field, Buena Vista! silence fell not on a nobler breast--not a

truer soul went up than rose from thy bosom, Frank--true friend of my

early manhood!

THE CURIOUS WIDOW.

|During my first course of lectures I became a boarder at the house of

a widow lady, the happy mother of a brace and a half of daughters, the

quartette possessing so much of the distinguishing characteristic of the

softer sex, that I often caught myself wondering in what nook or corner

of their diminutive skulls they kept the rest of the faculties.

Occupying the same room that I did, were two other students from the

same section of country as myself, and possessing pretty much the same

tastes and peculiarities. One thing certain we agreed in, and that was a

detestation of all curiosity-stricken women; for never were poor devils

worse bothered by researches than we were. Not a pocket of any garment

left in our rooms could remain unexamined, not a letter remain on our

table unread, nor scarcely a word of conversation pass without a soft,

subdued breathing at the key-hole telling us we were eavesdropped.

Matters came at length to such a pass, and so thorough became the

annoyance, that nothing but the difficulty of obtaining suitable

accommodation elsewhere, prevented us from bidding a tender adieu to

the widow, and promising to pay her our board bill as soon as our

remittances arrived.

As the evil had to be endured for a while, at least, we soon invented

and arranged a plan for breaking her of her insatiable curiosity, and

making her, what she was in other respects, a good landlady.

The boarding-house was a large two-story frame, with a flight of steps

on one side, extending from the street to the second story, so as to

give admittance to the boarders without the necessity of opening the

front door or disturbing the family when we came in late at night. It

was very cold weather, and our mess were busily engaged every night

until a late hour at the dissecting-rooms, and it was during this

necessary absence that the widow made her researches and investigations.

The _subject_ that we were engaged upon was one of the most hideous

specimens of humanity that ever horrified the sight. The wretch had

saved his life from the hangman by dying the eve before the day of

execution, and we, by some process or other, became the possessors of

his body. Just emaciated sufficiently to remove the fatty tissue, and

leave the muscles and blood-vessels finely developed, still he was so

hideous that nothing but my devotion to anatomy, and the fineness of the

subject, could reconcile me to the dissection; and even after working

a week upon him, I never caught a glimpse of his countenance but what

I had the nightmare in consequence. He was one of that peculiar class

called Albinoes, or white negroes. Every feature was deformed and

unnatural; a horrible hare-lip, the cleft extending half way up his nose

externally, and pair of tushes projecting from his upper jaw, completed

his bill of horrors. It was with him, or rather his face, that we

determined to cure our landlady of her prying propensities.

It was the work of a few minutes to slice the face from the skull,

and 'arrange it so that from any point of view it would look horrible.

Having procured a yard of oilcloth, we sewed it to the face, and then

rolled it carefully up; tying this securely, we next enveloped it in

a number of wrappers, fastening each separately, so that her curiosity

would be excited to the utmost degree before the package could be

completely opened. At the usual hour we returned home, carrying our

extra face along; not, however, without many a shudder.

Upon entering our room, we saw that the spoiler had been there, although

she had endeavoured to leave things as near the condition she found them

in as possible.

With a hearty malediction upon all curious women, we eat our cold snack,

which the kind-hearted widow--for, despite of her being a widow, she

was really kind-hearted--always had awaiting our return, and retired to

rest, determined that the morrow's night should bring all things even.

I endeavoured to sleep; but that hideous face, which we had locked

securely in a trunk, kept staring at me through its many envelopes--and

when the cold winter's sun shone in at the casement, it found me still

awake Nervous and irritated, I descended to breakfast; and nothing but

the contemplation of my coming revenge prevented me from treating the

widow with positive impoliteness.

Bless her not-despairing-of-marrying-again spirit! who could keep

angry with her? Such a sweet smile of ineffable goodness and spiritual

innocence rested on her countenance, that I almost relented of my

purpose, but my love-letters read, my duns made evident, my poetry

criticized by eyes to which Love would not lend his blindness, to make

perfect; and then--she is a widow! My heart, at this last reflection,

became immediately barred to the softening influences of forgiveness,

and I determined in all hostility to _face_ her.

The lectures that day, as far as we were concerned, fell upon listless

ears, for we were thinking too much of what the night was to bring

forth, to pay much attention to them. The day at last had its close,--I

suppose father Time, its tailor, furnished them on tick. It had been

snowing all the evening, and at supper we complained bitterly, how

disagreeable it would be walking to the college, and working that night,

and wished that we were not dissecting, so that we might stay at home

and answer the letters we had received from home that day. “Business

could not be neglected for the weather,” was our conclusion expressed to

the widow; so after supper we donned our dissecting-clothes, and putting

the package for the widow in a coat pocket, hung it up in a prominent

place, so it could be found readily. Telling the family we would not be

back until late, and making as much noise as possible with our feet, so

as to assure her we were going, we left the house as if for the college.

We went no further, however, than to the nearest coffeehouse, where, by

the time we had smoked a cigar, we judged sufficient time had elapsed

for the widow to commence researches.

Returning to the boarding-house, we pulled off our boots and noiselessly

ascended the outside steps, the door at the head of which we had left

open. There was a short passage leading from it to the door of our room,

which we had left closed, but now perceived to be ajar. Silently, as a

doctor speaking of the patients he has lost, we approached it, and, on

peeping in, to our great gratification found everything working as we

had desired. The widow had got the package out, and was occupied in

viewing it attentively from all sides, and studying the character of the

knots of the ligatures embracing it, so she could restore everything

to its original condition, when her curiosity was satisfied as to its

contents. Having impressed its shape, and the peculiarity of tie, well

upon her mind, she proceeded to take off the first cover, which was soon

done, when a similar envelope met her eye; this, after undergoing

the same scrutiny, was removed, when yet another met her gaze; this

detached, and still the kernel was unreached; some six or eight were

taken off, and at length she came to the last, the oil-skin. Poor old

lady! she has long been where the curiosity of life never penetrates,

and the grandest and most awful mystery of our nature is revealed;

yet, I see her now, as the last envelope of the mysterious package was

reached, and when a gleam of satisfaction shot like an erysipelatous

blush over her anxious face, as she saw the consummation of her long

expectancy approaching. There she stood, with spectacles buried so

deeply 'neath her brows as almost to appear a portion of her visage;

neck--not of apoplectic proportions--elongated to its utmost

capacity; lips--from which the ruby of youth had departed,--wide

disclosed,--showing what our swamp lands are famous for--big gums and

old snags; in fact, the embodiment of woman in her hour of curiosity.

Holding the package in one hand and the end of the oil-cloth in the

other, she commenced unrolling it slowly, for fear some peculiarity of

its arrangement might escape her; her back was towards the door, which

we had nearly opened awide, and anxiously awaiting the _denouement_;

it came at last,--and never shall I forget the expression of that old

woman's face as the last roll left the hellish countenance, and it

lay in all its awful hideousness upon her extended palm,--the fiendish

tushes protruding from the parted lips,--still wearing the agony of the

death-second,--and the eyes enclosed in their circle of red, gazing up

into hers with their dull vacant stare.

Ay, but she was a firm-nerved woman. If metempsychosis be a true

doctrine, her spirit must have once animated, in the chivalrous times,

a steel-clad knight of the doughtiest mould. She did not faint--did not

vent a scream--but gazed upon its awfulness in silence, as if her eyes

were riveted to it for ever.

We felt completely mortified to think that our well-laid scheme had

failed--that we had failed to terrify her; when, to perfect our chagrin,

she broke into a low laugh. We strode into the room, determined to

express in words what our deeds had evidently failed to convey; when,

ere she had become fully aware of our presence, we noticed her laughter

was becoming hysterical. We spoke to her--shook her by the shoulder--but

still she laughed on, increasing in vehemence and intensity. It began

to excite attention in the lower apartments, and even in the street; and

soon loud knocks and wondering exclamations began to alarm us for the

consequences of our participation. We strove to take the fearful object

from her, but she clung to it with the tenacity of madness, or a young

doctor to his first scientific opinion. “She is gone demented!” we

exclaimed; “we had better be leaving”--when a rush up the steps and

through the passage, cut off our retreat, and told us the daughters and

crowd were coming; but still the old lady laughed on, fiercer, faster,

shriller than before. In rushed the crowd--a full charge for the room,

impelled by the ramrod of curiosity--but ere they had time to discover

the cause of the commotion, or make a demonstration, the widow ceased

her laughter, and, putting on an expression of the most supreme

contempt, coolly remarked:--“Excuse me, gentlemen, if I have caused you

any inconvenience by my unusual conduct. I was just _smiling aloud_ to

think what fools these students made of themselves when they tried to

scare me with a dead nigger's face, when I had slept with a drunken

husband for twenty years!” The crowd mizzled; and we, too, I reckon,

between that time and the next up-heaving of the sun.

THE MISSISSIPPI PATENT PLAN FOR PULLING TEETH.

|I had just finished the last volume of Wistar's Anatomy, well nigh

coming to a period myself with weariness at the same time, and with

feet well braced up on the mantel-piece, was lazily surveying the closed

volume which lay on my lap, when a hurried step in the front gallery

aroused me from the revery into which I was fast sinking.

Turning my head as the office door opened, my eyes fell on the

well-developed proportions of a huge flatboatsman who entered the room

wearing a countenance, the expression of which would seem to indicate

that he had just gone into the vinegar manufacture with a fine promise

of success.

“Do you pull teeth, young one?” said he to me.

“Yes, and noses too,” replied I, fingering my slender moustache, highly

indignant at the juvenile appellation, and bristling up by the side of

the huge Kentuckian, till I looked as large as a thumb-lancet by the

side of an amputating knife.

“You needn't get riled, young doc, I meant no insult, sarten, for my

teeth are too sore to 'low your boots to jar' them as I swallered you

down. I want a tooth pulled, can you manage the job? Ouch! criminy, but

it hurts!”

“Yes, sir, I can pull your tooth. Is it an incisor, or a dens sapientiæ?

one of the decidua, or a permanent grinder?”

“It's a sizer, I reckon. It's the largest tooth in my jaw, anyhow, you

can see for yourself,” and the Kentuckian opening the lower half of his

face, disclosed a set of teeth that clearly showed that his half of the

alligator lay above.

“A molar requires extraction,” said I, as he laid his finger on the

aching fang.

“A molar! well, I'll be cus't but you doctors have queer names for

things! I reckon the next time I want a money-puss a molear will be

extracted too; ouch! What do you ax for pulling teeth, doc? I want to

git rid of the pesky thing.”

“A dollar, sir,” said I, pulling out the case of instruments and placing

a chair for him.

“A dollar! dollar h--ll! do you think the Yazoo Pass is full of kegs of

speshy? I'd see you mashed under a hogshead of pork 'fore I'd give you a

dollar to pull the thing,” and picking up his hat, which he had dashed on

the floor on his first entrance, off he started.

Seeing some fun in store, I winked at the rest of the students, whom

the loudness of our conversation had called from the other rooms of the

capacious office, and requested the subject to return.

“It's no use, stranger; I'd squirm all day fust 'fore I'd give you a

dollar to pull every tooth in my head,” said he.

“Well, Mister, times are hard, and I'll pull your tooth for half a

dollar,” said I, determined, if necessary, to give him pay before I

would lose the pulling of his tooth.

“You'll have to come down a notch lower, doc I wants to interduce

Kaintuck fashions on a Southern sile; and up thar, you can get a tooth

pulled and the agur 'scribed for, fur a quarter.”

“Well, but recollect, it's harder to pull teeth here than it is in

Kentucky.”

“Don't care a cuss; dimes is plentyer. I don't want to 'be stingy,

though, doc, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I feels sorter bad from

eatin' a mud-cat yesterday. I'll gin you a quarter to pull my tooth, if

you'll throw in a dose of castor ile.”

“It's a bargain,” said I. “I couldn't possibly afford to do it so low

if I didn't manufacture my own oil, and pull teeth on the 'Mississippi

patent plan,' without the least pain.”

“Well, I'se struck a breeze of luck, sure, to get it 'stracted without

hurtin', for I 'spected it would make all things pop, by hoecake.” And

“all things did pop,” certain, as the poor devil found to his sorrow,

before the “Mississippi patent plan” was over.

The room in which we were was the operating one of the office, where

patients were examined, and surgical operations performed. It was

furnished with all the usual appliances of such an establishment. In

the middle of the room, securely fastened to the floor by screws, was

a large arm-chair, with head-board and straps, to confine the body and

limbs of the patient whilst the operator was at work, in such cases as

required it. On either side of the house, driven into the wall, were a

couple of iron bolts, to which were fastened blocks and pulleys, used

when reducing old dislocations, when all milder means had failed. The

chair, pulleys, and a small hand-vice were the apparatus intended to

be used by me in the extraction of the Kentuckian's tooth, by the

“Mississippi patent plan.”

The patient watched all our preparations--for I quickly let the other

students into the plan of the intended joke--with great interest, and

seemed hugely tickled at the idea of having his tooth pulled without

pain “for a quarter,” and a dose of castor-oil extra.

Everything being ready, we invited the subject to take his seat in the

operating chair, telling him it was necessary, agreeably to our mode of

pulling teeth, that the body and arms should be perfectly quiet; that

other doctors, who hadn't bought the right to use the 'patent plan,'

used the pullikins, whilst I operated with the pulleys. I soon had

him immoveably strapped to the chair, hand and foot. Introducing the

hand-vice in his mouth, which, fortunately for me, was a large one,

I screwed it fast to the offending tooth, then connecting it with

the first cord of the pulleys and intrusting it to the hands of two

experienced assistants, I was ready to commence the extraction. Giving

the word, and singing, “Lord, receive this sinner's soul,” we pulled

slowly, so as to let the full strain come on the neck bones gradually.

Though I live till every hair on my head is as hollow as a dry skull, I

shall never forget the scene.

Clothed in homespun of the copperas hue, impotent to help himself, his

body immoveably fixed to the chair, his neck gradually extending itself,

like a terrapin's emerging from its shell, his eyes twice their natural

size, and projected nearly out of their sockets, his mouth widely

distended, with the vice hidden in its cavity, and the connexion of the

rope being behind his cheeks, giving the appearance as if we had

cast anchor in his stomach, and were heaving it slowly home, sat the

Kentuckian, screaming and cursing that we were pulling his head off

without moving the tooth, and that the torment was awful. But I coolly

told him 'twas the usual way the 'Mississippi patent plan' worked, and

directed my assistants to keep up their steady pull.

I have not yet fully determined, as it was the first and last

experiment, which would have come first, his head or the tooth, for

all at once the rope gave way, precipitating, without much order or

arrangement, the assistants into the opposite corner of the room.

The operating chair not being as securely screwed down as usual, was

uptorn by the shock of the retrograde motion acquired, when the rope

broke, and landed the Kentuckian on his back in the most distant side of

the room; as he fell, he struck the side of his face against the wall,

and out came the vice, with a large tooth in its fangs. He raged like

one of his indigenous thunderstorms, and demanded to be released.

Fearing some hostile demonstration when the straps were unfastened, we

took occasion to cut them with a long bowie knife. He rose up, spitting

blood and shaking himself, as if he was anxious to get rid of his

clothes. “H--l, Doc, but she's a buster! I never seed such a tooth. I

recon no common fixments would have fotch it; but I tell you, sirree,

it hurt awful; I think it's the last time the 'Mississippi Patent Plan'

gets me in its holt. Here's a five-dollar Kaintuck bill, take your pay

and gin us the change.”

Seeing he was in such good humour, I should have spared him, but his

meanness disgusted me, and I thought I would carry the joke a little

further. On examining his mouth, I suddenly discovered, as was the case,

that I had pulled the wrong tooth, but I never told him, and he had too

much blood in his mouth to discover it.

“Curse the luck,” I exclaimed, “by Jupiter I have lost my bet. I didn't

break the infernal thing.”

“Lost what?” inquired the patient, alternately spitting out blood, and

cramming in my tobacco.

“Why, a fine hat. I bet the old boss that the first tooth I pulled on my

'Mississippi Patent Plan,' I either broke the neck of the patient or his

jaw-bone, and I have done neither.”

“Did you never pull a tooth that way before? why, you told me you'd

pulled a hundred.”

“Yes, but they all belonged to dead men.”

“And if the rope hadn't guv way, I reckon there'd bin another dead man's

pulled. Cuss you, you'd never pulled my tooth if I hadn't thought you

had plenty of 'sperience; but gin me my change, I wants to be gwine to

the boat.”

I gave the fellow his change for the five-dollar bill, deducting the

quarter, and the next day, when endeavouring to pass it, I found we had

both made a mistake. I had pulled the wrong tooth, and he had given me a

counterfeit bill.

VALERIAN AND THE PANTHER.

I had just returned from attendance on my first course of medical

lectures. Although not a graduate, I had all the pruriency of a young

neophyte, and felt very desirous of an occasion wherein my Esculapian

acquirements could be exhibited, from call, visit, patient, disease,

diagnosis, prognosis, treatment, to cure; or else ominously and

sorrowingly murmur to the bereaved friends who are taking the

measure--“if he'd only sent for me sooner!” I wanted a case, the

management all to myself, from comma to period, white, black, old,

young, maid, wife, widow, masculine, feminine, old bachelor, or Indian,

I cared not which; a patient was what I wanted, and the shape in which

it would come, however questionable, I was indifferent to. The country

adjacent to the village where I was studying, is, on two sides, swamp of

the vilest, muddiest nature imaginable, with occasional tracts of fine

land, generally situated on some bayou or lake; frequently an “island”

of tillable land will be found rising out of the muddy swamp, accessible

to footmen or horse only, when the river is within its banks, varying in

size from fifty to two hundred acres; and, wherever existing, generally

occupied by a small _planter_. Every farmer in the South is a planter,

from the “thousand baler” to the rough, unshaved, unkempt squatter, who

raises just sufficient corn and cotton to furnish a cloak for stealing

the year's supply.

A few hours' ride from town was one of these islands, “pre-empted” by a

man named Spiffle, whose principal business was to fatigue him devising

ways and means to live without work. He would have scorned to hoe an

hour in his corn patch, and yet would not have hesitated a moment to

pursue a deer or bear for days, with all the indefatigability of a

German metaphysical philosopher studying an incomprehensibility. But

hunting deer and bear, though it brought more sweat and fatigue in an

hour than the hardest day's work, was sport; so was drinking whiskey,

and between the two, Jim Spiffle had little time to extend the limits of

his demesnes, or multiply the com forts of his household circle, wherein

a wife and a dozen children attested Jim's obedience to scripture.

It is a sultry day in June, and I am about describing the external

appearance of Jim's pre-emption. A small patch of green and waving corn,

surrounded by a brush fence, save where it is eked out, by the side of

an antiquated log-cabin, with a dirt chimney, around whose top the smoke

is lying in dense heaps, too lazy to curl; one or two bedraggled hens,

by noisy cackling, are endeavouring to inform the mistress that their

diurnal recumbencies are consummated--whilst the cock of the walk,

desirous of egging them on to increased exertions, struts majestically

before them, waving one feather, constituting his tail, and seriously

meditates a crow; but when he reflects that the exertion of flapping his

wings must premise, contents himself with a low chuckle of admiration.

An old hound, mangy and blear-eyed, is intent upon a deer's leg; and, as

he gnaws its tough sinews, tries to delude himself into the belief that

it is a delectable morsel from the ham. A boy of some thirteen winters,

in full dress swamp costume (a short, well-worn shirt), rifle in hand,

at a short distance from the house, is endeavouring to allay the mental

and bodily disquietude of a fox-squirrel, so that they both may be on

the same side of a chunky gum, up which the aforesaid squirrel, on the

approach of the incipient Nimrod, had incontinently retreated. Spiffle,

jun., sneaks round to the south side, but “funny” hangs on the north,

east, and west--back to the north and south, all in vain! All the points

of the mariner's compass are traversed, but still the cunning squirrel

evades his foe, who, venting his malediction, finally retires from the

pursuit, muttering, “Cuss you! I was only going through the motions;

the rifle ain't loaded!” The lord of the soil, extended to his full

proportions, is lying on a log, beneath a shady bush; a branch of which

is bent down and so ingeniously arranged, that when the breeze moves, it

will scratch his head; his mouth is full of tobacco--and as he sleeps,

true to his nature, his right hand is busily engaged stealing a couple

of dimes and an old jack-knife out of his own pocket; his jaws are

relaxed, and the huge, well-chewed quid gleams beautifully dark from the

profundity of mouth; a gentle titillation on his lips half arouses him,

and, champing his jaws with an emphasis, his waking senses are saluted

by the yell of his eldest born, who, on the failure of his squirrel

enterprise, finding dad asleep, had made an heroic attempt to hook his

sire's quid out of the deep abyss. The poor boy pays dearly for the

attempted larceny--three fingers hanging by mere shreds of skin, are the

attestations of his dad's strength of jaw. The scream of the poor devil,

and the boisterous grief of the miserable squatter, who, though the

“Arab” of the swamp, has still a father's feelings, brings from the

cabin a form which, begrimed with dirt, and haggard with premature age,

would scarcely be taken for the best of God's works--a woman--but such

she was; and her tears and outcries also gave evidence that she, too,

amidst the heart-hardenings of poverty, contumely, and lowliness, had

still gushing up in her heart the pure waters of love.

“Lordy grashus!” she cried; “you have ruined the child! Oh! how could

you doit? You, a man grown, and him, your own son! Oh, Jim!”

“'Twasn't my fault, Betsy,” answered poor Jim, “'twasn't my fault! Oh!

what must I do? He's gwine into 'vulshuns.”

“Jump on the critter and git the doctor!” said Betsy. “Quick, Jim! Oh,

Lordy! only twelve children--and to lose one of them!” and the poor

mother sobbed as if her heart were rending; whilst Jim, jumping on a

belter horse than befitted his circumstances, made all haste for town,

whither he arrived about dinner-time--and dashing up with frantic haste

to the office-door, yelled out, “Doctor! oh, doctor! I've bit my son's

hand off, and he's dying, sarten! Come, quick! dear doctor! that's a

good old hoss!--oh, do!”

But the “good old hoss” not responding to his appeal, he dismounted, and

rushed in, repeating his cry.

“What's the matter? what's the matter? who's sick?” said I, rushing in

from a back room--one book open in my right hand, and a ponderous tome

under my left arm.

“Oh! young doctor, where's the old man? I've bit my son's arm off, and

he's gone into 'vulshuns, and I want the boss to come right out.”

“He's gone into the country, and won't be back before night,” replied I.

“Did your boy's arm bleed much?”--not reflecting on the absurdity of a

man biting a boy's arm off.

“Bleed! Yes, all three stumps bled like a stuck deer.”

“Three h--lls! Spiffle, you're drunk! How could you bite off three of

his arms?”

“Oh, doctor! I meant his fingers; he put them in my mouth when I war

asleep. Sens the old man's out, doctor, you must go. Jes' save his life,

doc, and you'll never want vensun or a good trout-hole while I'm in the

swamp! Be in a hurry, that's a good fellow.”

The chance was too good to be lost--a surgical and medical case

combined--amputation and convulsions. What could be more opportune?

Telling Spiffle I would go as soon as I got some medicine suitable to

the case, I put near half a peck of valerian in my coat pockets, and an

ounce vial of prussic acid in my vest; some calomel, assafoetida, lint,

and adhesive plaster, completed my preparations, and I was ready for

business. The horse I intended to ride was a favourite one of the old

doctor's, but one which, accomplished equestrian as he was, he dare not

back, except when the visit lay over some old beaten road; and as for

riding him through the devious path of the swamp--one moment on the

horse's neck to 'scape an impending limb, the next with the body at a

right angle, to avoid a gnarled and thorny tree--now on one side, now

on the other, and again on both--wading the backwater, jumping logs,

swimming the dark and sullen slough, or with feet raised to the pommel

to clear the cypress-knees, which on every side, as the path would cross

a brake, obtruded their keen points, ready to impale the luckless wight

who there might chance to lose his seat; to ride “Chaos” midst such

paths as these, the old doctor, I have said, would never have dreamed of

doing, and, most assuredly, had he been at home, would not have allowed

me to undertake; but such a ride, with its break-neck peril, chimed well

with my youthful feelings, which pursued the same reckless course that

the heart's current of the medical student has run in, from the time

when “Chiron” was a “grave rat,” to the Tyro of yesterday, who is

looking in the dictionary for the meaning of “artery.”

With all the seriousness naturally to be elicited by a responsible

mission, I mounted Chaos, and started at a speed that beplastered the

skeleton houses 011 each side of the way with mud, heaving a delectable

morsel, as I passed the “doggery,” full in the mouth of a picayune

demagogue, who, viewing the political sky with open mouth, was

vociferating vehemently on the merits of his side. “Hurrah!” for he had

just ejaculated, when the substance, which perhaps assisted in composing

an antediluvian megathaslopsyolamagosogiam, or, possibly, “imperial

Cæsar,” hit him “vim” in the patent orifice. Cleaning his throat, he

spluttered out, “Cuss the country, when a man can't holler for the

feller that he likes best, but the heels of every 'prentice saw-bone's

horse must fling clay in his teeth!”

But Chaos heeded him not; imagining I was for a jaunt over his usual

road, he gave way to only sufficient movement to indicate his mettle;

but when the end of the street was reached, where the roads diverged,

one pursuing its upward course over the towering hills--the first

from its source that steal down to gaze upon the wavelets of the “dark

Yazoo”--the other unobtrusively stealing its way a few hundred yards,

and then yielding its being 'neath the placid waters of a bright-eyed

lake. Seeing me turn to the latter, the noble horse gave a joyous

neigh, and seemed to be imbued with a new life as he viewed the waters

stretching far away into the forest, until wave and leaf were melted

into one; and as he thought of the wild luxuriance of a hidden dell,

gemmed with a glistening spring, the memory of which came floating up,

fraught with the enjoyments of a month's pleasure the year gone by,

when, disdaining the stable, he had sought the forest, and there,

cropping the herbage, and roaming in all the wild luxuriance of freedom,

forgot he was a slave, until the insidious wiles of Spiffle restored him

to his owner.

Oblivious, apparently, of my weight, he sprung into the waters, and

soon--dashing his beautiful head until the spray covered me with

delicious coolness--breasted the sleepy lake; and when his feet struck

the firm ground, like the fawn from the hunters, away he sprang up the

narrow path, which pursued its tortuous way like a monstrous snake,

amidst the nodding grass and fragrant spice-wood, and old trees,

fantastically interweaving their limbs.

But little cared my courser for those old trees, clothed with moss, with

the shadows of their arching boughs the pathway thrown across; he heeded

not the verdancy beneath the eye displayed, nor the gorgeous summer

mingling of the sunshine and the shade; the gentle voice of Eolus, as

dallying with the grove, came breathing gentle symphonies, but not on

him it wove the spell of soothing, subdued thought, such as the feelings

haunt, when its tones renew the memory of a long-forgotten chant. With

eye of dazzling brightness, with foam upon the breast, with mane back

flaunting on the air, and proud erected crest; with champing bit,

and eager bound, and earth-disdaining tread, and air, as if o'er

battle-fields victoriously he sped. Soho! Soft, Chaos! Quiet! Soho!

“Which way now, Spiffle?” said I, as the path appeared to cease at a

clear, deep, narrow “slough,” full of cypress “knees,” which did not

come to the surface, but seemed some few inches under.

“Right across,” was the answer.

“What! through those shoots? Why there's not room enough between them

for a dog to swim, let alone a horse,” said I.

“You'd be mighty out of breath 'fore you got through with the job, doc,

if you tried to swim 'tween them, seein' as thar ten foot under. I war

fooled here myself for mor'n a year; I'd take a 'bee' for home, an' come

to this slew, an' then have to head it, on 'count of the neas; 'till one

day I got on a 'bust' in town, an' my critter got loose and struck for

home. I tract him up to whar we is, and here they stopt--the trax and me

I mean; but on t'other side I seed them, and I knowed he must have swum.

I war clean bothered to know how he got over without leaving some of his

innards on the neas,--so I tuck a stick and puncht at one of them that

war near outen the water, to see if it war a real cypress nubbin. I

missed it clear, and kerchunk I went head foremost 'mongst their sharp

points. Oh, my 'viscera!' I yelled; but I'll be cust if I toch a

nea; they war ten foot under, and thar they stay, and thar they 'tend

stayin', for they ain't grown a lick sens that time, and that war so

long ago, that the next day I seed the fust steamboat that kum up the

Yazoo skare an old buck to death, makin' him jump so fast that he sprung

plum through his skull, and the last I seed of him, as he floated down

the river, his head had hung on his lines, and one ear on each horn war

fluttering his dying elegy.”

By the time this veracious anecdote was over, we had crossed the slough,

and a ride of a few miles brought us to the cabin of my patron, who, now

elevated with whiskey, had lost his paternal solicitude, and giving way

to the garrulity of the drunkard, was making revelations concerning his

past history, which, if true, and he had his dues, would have swung him

higher than “Barn Poker,” of Coahoma, when the regulators were out.

I found my patient doing very well, Mrs. Spiffle having sent, before my

arrival, for one of those knowing old dames who match “'sperience agin

book larnin',” and detract so considerably from the physician's income.

The old lady, fortunately for the boy, had had sufficient knowledge of

surgery to replace the fingers and apply bandages.

Whether it was my naturally prepossessing phiz, or my ready acquiescence

in the correctness of her treatment, that softened the old dame, I know

not; but she appeared to take to me monstrously; and, after having

had her mind satisfied as to my name, natality, and genealogy, she

reciprocated intelligence, and, untying the scrap-bag of memory,

proceeded to make a patch-quilt for me, of a case that resembled the one

we were ministering to.

“Short arter I had kum from Georgy to Mass-ass-sip, a nere nabur--Miss

Splicer--had a darter--Miss Spiffle, you had better gin Boney another

sup of the sheep safurn--doctor, you said you had no injections to

it--what made a slide one day, and 'lowed her dad's axe to fall on her

foot, cutting her big toe clean off as sarcumstances would permit.

It bled 'mazinly, and the gal hollered out till her mammy, who war

splittin'--his throat, Miss Spiffle, a spoonful at a time--rails at the

far end of the clearin' (for she was a monstrous 'dustryus woman, Miss

Splicer was), heard the rumption and came to the house, lumbrin' over

the high logs like a big bull in--a little more whiskey in mine, Miss

Spiffle, if you please; what a pity it is that your husband drinks--a

small pastur' in the worst of flytime, as she told me arter, thinking

some of the town-boys had got hold of the gal.

“When she got there and seed the blood, and the toe excavated off,

a-trying to keep time with the stump which war quiverin' in the air,

like the gal had the 'skitters,' she memorized what a doctor had told

her to do in such cases--to displace the parts and heal them up by the

fust contention; so she slapt the toe on the foot agin, an' tide a rag

on tight, an' put the gal to bed. Well, everything went on monstrous

nice--scat! Miss Spiffle, the laws-a'-massy! that cat's tail come mity

nigh toching his hand; and 'twould never got well--an' in 'bout two

weaks, Miss Splicer axed me to come over and sister her getting the rag

off, as she hadn't been informed that far, for her husband had got drunk

and run the doctor off jist arter he had showed her how to put the thing

up for healin'.

“Well, I went over, and arter soaking her--stumak, Miss Spiffle, put the

goose grease on his stumak--foot in hot water, I peeled the rag off;

and the Lord be marsiful to a sinful world, fur I seed the toe had grown

fust-rate fast, but the poor ignerant creetur of a mother had put it on

with the _nail turned down_, and the poor gal's dancing were 'ternally

spiled.”

Telling the people that I would not return unless they sent for me, and

the sun being low, I mounted my horse and dashed off for home. Coming to

a fork in the path, I took the one I thought I had come in the morning,

and gave myself no further concern about the road.

I mentioned that I had filled my pockets with Valerian on leaving home,

and on this simple thing depended two lives, as the sequel will show.

It is a root, when fresh, of a powerful and penetrating odour peculiar

to its species; permeable things, by remaining in contact with it,

become imbued with its characteristic odour, which they retain for a

considerable length of time. The root possesses great attraction for the

cat tribe, who smell it at a great distance, and resort to it eagerly,

devouring its fragrant fibres with great apparent relish. The panther of

our continent is closely allied to the domestic cat, susceptible, like

it, of taming, active, treacherous, and cunning,--only in proportion to

its increased size, resembling it in its tastes, and like it, fearless

when aroused by appetite or hunger.

I had proceeded some distance, when it began to appear to me that

the path I was travelling was not the one by which I had come in the

morning, but as it was some miles back to the fork, and as far as I

could judge, I seemed to be going in the right direction, I determined

to proceed. So, cheering myself with a song, I tried to banish

disagreeable reflections, and persuade myself that some recognised

object would soon assure me I was in the right track.

It was now near sunset, and, in despite of my endeavours to the

contrary, I was becoming somewhat anxious, as a gloom was already

settling over the swamp, when, to my joy, I found myself upon the bayou

or slough, whose illusory appearance I have noted. Not remarking that

the path, instead of crossing, turned up the bank, I gave my horse

the rein and he sprang into the stream; but what was my dismay, when I

found, by the struggling of my poor steed for releasement, that I was

mistaken in the slough, and that in this instance, the proximity of the

“knees” to the surface was no illusion. He had fortunately become wedged

between two of the largest, which sustained his weight, and saved him

from being impaled upon those beneath. I had nothing in the shape of

a cutting instrument, except a small penknife, which, under the

circumstances, could afford me no aid. Dismounting in the water, by

main strength I released my horse, and, as the sun withdrew its last

lingering ray from the topmost boughs of the trees--jaded, wet, and

exhausted--we stood in the midst of the swamp, on the banks of an

unknown' slough, without food, fire, or weapon--lost! lost! lost!

I could form no idea where I was, and go as I would, it would be

hap-hazard if I went right, and the probabilities were that I would have

to spend the night in the drearisome place.

I soon discovered that it was losing time and gaining nothing to stand

there. So I determined, as I was mightily down in the mouth, my course

should accord with my feelings, so down the slough I started.

The land, as far as I could see, was uniform low swamp, subject to the

annual inundations of the Mississippi. The height to which the waters

usually attained was several feet above my head on horseback, which made

it more favourable to me, as the frequent submergings had in a great

measure destroyed the undergrowth, and thus facilitated passing between

the trees. I would not have cared for the night jaunt, had I only

known where I was, and whither I was going; but the uncertainty made my

feelings very disagreeable, and I mentally vowed that if I got home that

once, Spiffle, Sen., might chaw up Spiffle, Jun., inch by inch, before I

would come out to stop it.

I sped on as fast as I dared, the darkness growing profound, and my

anxiety--I will not say fear--increasing every moment. An unusual

stillness rested over the swamp, unbroken save by the tramp of my horse;

not even a frog or chichado was to be heard, and the wind had assumed

that low, plaintive wail amidst the leaves, that never fails to cast a

melancholy shadow over the heart, and awaken all the superstitions of

our minds. I was musing over the sad fate of an intimate friend who had

recently come to an untimely death, and reflecting how hard it was that

so much youthful ambition should perish, such a glorious sun go down

shrouded with darkness whilst it yet was day, when the ominous silence

was broken by a sound which, God grant, I may never hear again. Like a

woman's shriek, in the damning anguish of desertion and despair--lost

and ruined--was the long, piercing scream of the _Panther_, whose awful

yell palsied my heart, and curdled the blood within my smallest veins.

Again and again it arose, filling the solemn aisles of the darksome

swamp, till echo took up the fearful sound, and every tree, bush, and

brake, gave back the hellish, agonizing shriek.

It was evidently approaching us; my poor horse trembled like an aspen

beneath me, and seemed incapable of moving. Again, still nearer--the

fierce and harrowing scream fell on my shrinking ear; and I knew the

animal was upon my trail. Shaking off the lethargy into which I was fast

sinking, I struck my horse, and, twining my hands in his mane, lay down

on his neck, letting him go as he wished, as I did not know which way to

guide him. With a snort of terror he sprung off with a speed that seemed

miraculous, through the darkness and trees. I flattered myself that

the rate at which we went would soon distance the panther; when, God of

heaven! it arose more piercing and shrill, still nearer than before.

I began to despair, as I had no weapon, save the pen-knife; and the

animal, I knew, was one of the fiercest nature--else why did he follow

for my blood? (I never thought of the _valerian._)

The speed of my horse, with the fearfulness of my situation, made me

half delirious, and my thoughts began to wander--colours of all hues,

shapes, arabesque and fantastical, danced before my eyes. I imagined

that I was in the midst of a well-contested battle, and in the wavering

fight, and covering smoke, and turmoil of the scene, I caught the emblem

emblazoned on the banner of my foe, and it was a panther _couchant_.

Making an effort to draw my sword, my hand came in contact with the vial

of prussic acid in my vest pocket with considerable force. This aroused

me; and, taking it out, I determined to commit suicide, should the

panther overtake me--preferring to die thus, to being devoured alive.

Again and again the awful scream of the infuriated animal arose, and

fell like the weight of a mountain on my trembling frame. Nobly my

gallant horse strove to save me; he required not the whip or spur;

I gave him a word of encouragement, and the animal,--which we term a

brute,--returned a low, whining neigh, as if he wished me to understand

that he knew my danger, and would do all in his power. I looked up as

the horse suddenly increased his speed, and found, to my delight, that

we were in the right track; I imagined I could almost see the lights in

the windows--but this I knew could not be. It was pleasant, however, to

think that I was going home, and that if my horse could only keep ahead

a few miles further, we would be safe; when--hist!--ha! ha! was it not

enough to raise the laugh? I heard the scream of the panther not two

hundred yards behind, and could almost hear his feet as they struck the

ground after his leaps. He seemed to be rejoicing over his approaching

feast--his screams arose fiercer--shriller--more horrid than before. The

heavens gave back the sound--it was caught by every breeze--echoed from

every dell; a hundred discordant voices joined in the infernal melody,

while the loud neigh of my horse, as if for help, framed itself into a

panther's shriek. I strove to breathe a prayer; but my parched tongue

clove to the roof of my mouth, and what I uttered served but to add to

the damning chorus of hellish sounds. I tore the neck of my poor horse

with my teeth, to incite him to greater speed; but my time had come.

Again I heard the panther's scream, so near that it pierced my brain

with its acuteness.. I heard his spring, as he threw himself over the

lowermost boughs of the trees, and shrank within myself, momentarily

expecting him to alight, with his sharp teeth in my heart. The thought

occurred to me, as, looking ahead, I really beheld the town lights

glimmering--if I kill my horse, may not the panther be satisfied with

_his_ blood, and allow me to escape? There was reason in it; and, though

a pang shot through me as I thought of sacrificing the noble animal who

had borne me on thus far, yet the love of life overcame all scruples.

With my penknife I felt carefully for the carotid artery, and, when it

was found, plunged the blade in, inflicting a small but deadly gash.

Giving a terrible spring, the hot blood gushing all over me, he ran as

none but a noble horse, in the agonies of death, can run, and then, with

a low, reproachful moan, fell dead; whilst I, disengaging myself, at a

full run strove to make my escape.

I heard the yell of the panther as he reached the horse, and as he

stopped I thought myself safe; but not so long: for again his fierce

scream came ringing o'er the air, and I was too well aware of the habits

of the animal not to know that when the quarry is being devoured, their

voice is still. Suicide by poison, or a more awful death, were all that

was now left me. I heard the rapid leap of the panther, yelling at every

spring. I uncorked the vial, and was raising it to my lips, when, as if

by inspiration, came the blessed thought, that when the panther seized

me, to pour the instantaneous poison down his throat. I uttered a low,

deep prayer to God, and for one, who, if she had known my peril, would

have sought to die with me, and then bracing myself firmly against a

tree, with the vial clenched in my right hand, awaited the deadly foe.

I heard his shriek, saw a huge form flying through the darkness, felt a

keen pang in my shoulder, and then, pouring the acid in the mouth of the

panther, fainted.

When I recovered consciousness the moon was shining in my upturned face,

and the huge form of the dead panther was lying by my side, _with the

pocket holding the valerian firmly clenched in his teeth_.

[Illustration: 0101]

SEEKING A LOCATION

|It was my intention, after graduating, to return and locate myself in

the small town where I had studied my profession; but “circumstances,”

which exerted such a powerful influence over a late unsuccessful

aspirant for political honours, exercised a like power upon me.

The death of my preceptor, whilst I was absent attending my last

course of lectures, left a vacancy in the profession at home, which was

speedily filled, as far as numbers went, by a horde of new-comers. So

I found I would have to encounter, if I settled there, a greater

competition, without the assistance I calculated deriving from him, than

my slender means and already embarrassed finances qualified me to

meet. Besides, locating among those who had known me from boyhood, the

probation I would have to undergo before I secured their full confidence

would be more severe, and of much longer duration, than if I had landed

in their midst a perfect stranger. The transition from the boy to the

man, and from the mischievous student to the grave, serious physician,

is so gradual and imperceptible, that our old and intimate acquaintances

do not realize it; and when they should know us as doctor they still

give us our youthful appellatives, and regard us as boys. When I landed

at home, proud of my new-fledged honours and “sheepskin” as a young

mother of her first babe, I had, on meeting my former acquaintances, to

fling my memory back to the eventful examining period to convince myself

that I was really a “doctor of medicine;” for every one, even down to

the children, called me “Madison” as before, and none of them seemed a

moment to consider that a title, the acquisition of which had cost--both

mental and pecuniary--as much as mine, should be occasionally used.

In despite of these disadvantageous circumstances, and my own

disinclination, it was the opinion of some few friends, to whom I

deferred greatly, that I had better locate there; so procuring an

office, and having my name and title emblazoned on a sheet of tin, which

I securely fastened to the door, I shook off gaiety and the dust of my

feet at the lintel, and with a ponderous tome, and anatomically painted

skull before me, took my seat at my small green baize coloured table, to

await cases and patients.

I recollect distinctly, as no doubt every young professional man does

in his own case, my sensations upon the first few days succeeding the

setting of my trap, when I was constantly upon the look-out for some

victim approaching the bait.

I tried to address myself to the volume before me, but my busy

imagination had turned architect, and was erecting air-built tenements

of the most magnificent and gorgeous nature.

“Calls” innumerable flitted through my brain. Fevers, from simple

intermittents to congestive, were awaiting my curative dispensations;

whilst a trumpeter stood ready to peal forth my triumphs to the world,

and a quiet, unobtrusive grave, to cover the unsuccessful.

I had just performed a surgical operation, never before attempted, of

the most difficult and dangerous character, upon the “President,” with

the happiest results. The medical world was ringing with my name; and

even the trading community, partaking of the general enthusiasm, mingled

me in their thoughts, and spoke of my wonderful scientific achievements

in the same breath that told of the rise or decline of stocks, and a

slight improvement in the price of cotton. And the ladies, too--God

bless them! that their approving smiles sow the seeds of ambition in

many hearts; ay, even the soft, tender-lipped lady, made me a theme of

conversation, when her daily allowance of characters had been torn

to pieces, and scandal palled the tongue. Edinburgh and London were

striving which should obtain my services, as professor in one of their

world-renowned institutions; and the crown was moving from the brows

of Esculapius to my own; when--hark! “'Tis the cathedral pealing my

triumphs!”

“Listen how the solemn chant comes pouring up the mysterious aisle!”

“Pshaw! 'tis the supper-bell, a little negro ringing 'Jim along Josey.'”

I wrapped my cloak around me as if to shut out all the world, and strode

off moodily to my supper, mad at myself for having yielded to my fancy,

and almost allowing it to lead me astray.

One day passed without a call--six days died of marasmus, and never

the first patient crossed the threshold of my office. I could see other

physicians hurrying by, attending to their numerous calls; some of them

as youthful as myself; but, happily for them, they had the impress of

the exotic, whilst I was indigenous to the soil. I sat in my lonely

office, and could hear, as the busy noises of the town died away, and

night allowed care to come on the face, which, through the garish day,

had striven to appear mirthful, the hurried step of the messenger

from the sick; but they never stopped at my door--but on, on by, till

distance had eaten up their clanging tread. Mine is a temperament

which, exalted to almost delirium one moment, sinks into proportionate

depression the next; and even the short space of a week without

employment made me down-hearted, and assailed me with continual

despondency. My debts, contracted through the long years I had devoted

to my profession--for malicious tongues had estranged my preceptor

almost from me before his death, and determined me to repay him for all

his pecuniary expenditures--knocked continually against the door of my

honour, and often, as I heard the saw and hammer of the artisan ringing

through the town, I almost cursed the mistaken kindness of my friends,

which had made a professional man of me, and wished, like the mechanic,

I could go forth and earn my sweet and honest bread by the hot sweat of

my brow.

By chance I learned that a good location for a young physician presented

itself in the Louisiana swamps. To resolve to seek it, to communicate

my resolution to my friends, to obtain the necessary letters of

introduction, and take passage on a steamer bound for Vicksburg, where I

would have to reship, was the work of a few hours.

The contemplated location was a short distance in the interior of the

parish of Madison, and my next destination after arriving at V--------

would be Milliken's Bend, where I could obtain a horse and explore the

country.

Just at sunrise, a steamer of rather slender dimensions and shabby

appearance, came creeping along to V--------.

As it was the first upward-bound boat that had arrived, a crowd of

passengers, who were there awaiting one, rushed on board to secure a

passage, myself among the number. Ascertaining how long she intended

remaining there, which was but a short time, I thought I would have

time to go up town and purchase some articles which I required, and had

nearly forgotten; I procured them, and heard, as I descended the levee,

the boat ringing her last bell; hastening my steps, I jumped on board

just as she was pushing out. On going up in the cabin, I found to

my surprise that I was the only passenger. She had brought none to

Vicksburg, and of all the crowd who rushed on there, none had remained

save myself.

There was a mystery about the thing that I could not fathom, and did

not endeavour very hard to penetrate; for my future was a sufficiently

impenetrable enigma to employ all my penetration. Attributing the

absence of passengers to the poor accommodations that were visible, I

gave myself no further thought about the matter, but taking my cigar,

ascended to the hurricane-deck, and there seating myself, gazed

abstractedly out upon the waters, and gave myself up to my reflections.

They were of a mixed nature; joy and sorrow, pride and shame, struggling

for the mastery through all my recollections, and making too many

compromises with each other for a spirit that strove to be at peace

with, itself.

There, in the same bold, impetuous torrent, coursed the majestic “Father

of Waters,” as it did ten long years ago, when the doctor, who was

ascending it, seeking for a home amidst strangers--his heart care-worn

and filled with anxiety, descended its current--a scullion.

My pride was gratified to think that I had risen as it were superior to

my station and opportunities, and, from a scullion, had become a member

of an honourable profession; and that, too, ere the beard had come on my

face, or years twenty-one stamped me a man.

We were within two miles of the “Bend” when, as I descended from the

upper deck, being partly hidden by the wheel-house, I heard one of the

officers remark to the captain', in a laughing tone, “I wonder if

that young fellow up on the deck there, would smoke his cigar so

unconcernedly if he only knew he was seated over twenty thousand kegs of

powder?”

I almost slipped overboard in my surprise. Twenty thousand kegs of

powder! Jehovah! how much of Madison Tensas, M. D., would be left, I

wonder, after that quantity of explosive material had ignited under him?

One of the finest instances on record of molecular disintegration

would be presented, I expect. This explains why the passengers left so

summarily. “I must get out of this.”

“I believe I will go ashore, captain; there is where I want to land,”

pointing to a house at least two miles below the “Stores.”

The boat landed; and, after getting ashore, I did not cease running

until I got considerable space and a large tree between her and myself.

The crew, suspecting from my movements that I had discovered the nature

of their cargo, gave vent to a hearty peal of laughter, with which

sounding in my ears, I gained the high-road. And this was my first

introduction to the state of my future adoption.

Having a letter of introduction for the principal physician in the

“Bend,” I slung my saddle-bags over my shoulder, and trudged along

through the mud to his house, the direction of which I obtained from a

passer-by.

Upon presenting my letter to Doctor J--------, I was received with as

much kindness and consideration as if I had been a magnate of the land,

rolling up in my carriage and four, instead of a poor young doctor,

saddle-bags on shoulder, seeking a home in the swamp.

Thine was a good, kind welcome, Doctor Tom, and the “Swamp Doctor,”

I assure you, often recurs to it with pleasure. Thine was the first

stranger's hand, in my adopted state, that I pressed, and found, ere it

had unclasped its pressure, that I held, a friend's. Thine was the first

roof in this land of hospitable homes that sheltered me; and oh! thy

hands compounded the first _julep_ which for long, long months had

ecstasied my lips, thou hast to answer to old D------e for the apostacy

of one of his chosen disciples; and though I have felt contrition for

the fall, yet I forgive thee, Doctor Tom, cheerfully I forgive thee.

Would that one sat before me now, as I write in my lonely bachelor

den, the skies obscured with darkness, the rain pattering against the

casement, the single bed looking so cold, so cold, and the December

blast whistling through the chinks of the logs; would that I had one

now! winter as it is, though it were heaped with ice, if it came from

thy hands, thy warmth of heart would impart to it some of its cordial

fire, and kindle up a genial glow within my frame. Though I were thrice

a Son of Temperance, I could not refrain from a julep of thy mixing,

and though my lips might murmur, my heart would not dictate, “Deliver

me from temptation.” Oh! what a glorious barkeeper was spoiled when they

made you a doctor, Doctor Tom!

After partaking of a cold snack, it not yet being the dinner-hour,

mounted on a horse which the doctor loaned me, I obtained the necessary

directions, and turning my back on the Mississippi river, struck into

the interior, in search of the contemplated location.

The settlement to which I was destined, was situated on a small river

which, singular to relate, as I had never heard of any member of my

family having ever lived there, bore the same name as myself, being

called the “Tensas.” Looking upon this coincidence of names as a good

omen, an assurance at least that I would meet one acquaintance or

kinsman there, I surrendered my mind to a renewal of my day-dreams of

future professional success and distinction, and disregarding a proper

notice of the road, suddenly awakened and found myself lost--the road

having given out in a cypress brake.

To resolve to return was one thing, to do it another, for the timber

roads so crossed and interlaced each other that I frequently found

myself returning to the same point in the “brake” from whence I started.

Well, thought I, I hope my future lot will be a verification of the

old adage, that a “bad beginning makes a good ending,” for mine is bad

enough. I wandered about several hours, occasionally dismounting to

assist my horse out of some slough wherein he had bogged, and was about

to give it up as a bad job, when I had the good fortune to find a

road, which, being over knee-deep in mud, and dotted with the bones of

deceased oxen, I judged to be the main highway, which conjecture I soon

verified on meeting a traveller. After proceeding a few miles I reached

Eagle Lake, which it was necessary to cross in a shallow ferry flat.

Here an accident occurred, which came near preventing these pages from

ever being written. The current was running very strongly from a small

bayou into the lake, and as we approached the shore, suddenly striking

the flat, it impelled it with considerable force against a tree, which

the high water had submerged for ten or twelve feet. I was standing in

the bow of the flat, holding my horse by the rein, and the shock nearly

prostrated us both. Before I could recover, the horse plunged overboard.

I would have been dragged with him to almost certain death, as I could

not swim, had not the ferry-man caught me, and released my arm from the

rein. The steed swam to shore; and after a short time suffered himself

to be mounted. Matters, so far, I must confess, had not impressed me

very favourably with the country--first to be lost in a cypress brake,

and then my life placed in jeopardy, looked rather like discouraging

treatment; but I had determined to bear up against everything, and if

these were the heaviest misfortunes I had to encounter, to laugh at

care.

Just as the sun was setting I reached the “Tensas,” striking it at

the “point,” to the owner of which, Mr. C--------, I had a letter of

introduction. He received me very hospitably, and was profuse in his

offers of assistance, both by employing me himself, and favourably

recommending me to his friends.

The night passed off, and the next morning Mr. C------ and myself

started to visit the other families to whom I had letters of

introduction and recommendation; not two hundred yards from the house,

it became necessary to cross what was called the “Island shoot.” The

current was running swiftly, and it was nearly swimming. My companion,

better acquainted with the passage, forded it safely; but in following,

my steed got astride of a submerged log, and down we both went, head and

ears, under the muddy waters. I determined, if possible, not to dissolve

the union between horse and rider, and therefore held on to him, and at

length he scrambled out. I was thoroughly drenched, but I knew at the

outset it would never do to appear to mind such an accident before an

“old swamper,” like Mr. C------, and therefore joined him in his hearty

laugh at the dolesome plight of myself and horse. To make the matter

worse, I had only the suit of clothes I wore along, and was constrained

to borrow a change of apparel. I am above the average size, and both

Mr. C------ and his overseer were considerably under; so a proper

appreciation can be had of the nature of the fit. Laying off my cloth, I

donned a suit of “swamp broad-cloth,”--yellow linsey--which clove to my

proportions as if it were an integral portion of my frame. This time

we had better luck crossing the “shoot,” and after spending the day,

visiting the neighbours, and making arrangements for securing the

practice, we returned to the “point.” My unique appearance created a

good deal of mirth and remark during the day; but as I laughed with the

loudest, ridicule was soon despoiled of his shaft, and my indifference

at what would have affected the majority of young men, very sensibly

raised me proportionately high in the opinion of the “swampers.”

The encouragement I had received, I thought sufficient to warrant me in

locating there; so the next morning I started, on my return, to procure

a horse, and have my books and medicines brought to my new home. The

settlement I designed locating in, was a very new one, the majority of

the residents holding their lands merely by pre-emption claims, little

of the country having been offered for sale by “Uncle Sam.” There was

but one frame house in the whole settlement, the dwellings with that

exception being composed of logs, some with the bark yet on them, others

of split trees, whilst a few, by their squared appearance, gave evidence

of the broad-axe, and a greater degree of refinement in their occupants.

Fortunately for me, as I thought at the outset, but unhappily, as the

sequel proved, the most influential, or rather the most numerous portion

of the settlers of my destined locality, were all of one family, or

otherwise closely connected. Being originally from Virginia, they had

all the proverbial clannishness of that highly favoured race, and the

mortal upon whom one of the “set” smiled was immediately sneezed upon

with favour by the rest. They all eat with the same tastes, and used

the same pair of spectacles to view men and measures. They were a hardy,

vigorous, industrious set, and, divested of their foolish clannishness,

irreproachable. The first year, I was a small saviour with them; the

second, having aroused the ire of one of them, the whole clan were as

strenuous to break me down, as the year before they had been solicitous

to advance my interests; but the “Swamp Doctor” had grown beyond their

reach. But I anticipate, and must return.

The lands were composed of rich alluvial, deposited by the turbid

waters of the Mississippi, and protected by embankments termed “levees,”

ungratefully thrown up to keep out the very cause to which the country

owed its existence. Whenever the levees proved insufficient, or happened

to break, chickens and garden-tools fell to a discount, and ducks and

cat-hooks rose to a premium.

The tillable land, varying in breadth from one hundred yards to several

miles, lay upon the water-courses, which ramified the surface of the

country, and formed, when swollen by rains or overflow, a perfect

network of watery communications. The land between the tillable or cane

ridges, was low swamp, almost quagmire, never thoroughly dry, and almost

impassable nine months out of the year.

In the height of summer the country appeared to a fair advantage,

surpassing any in the world for producing the great southern staple; but

at the time I first visited it, not expecting company, it had on almost

its worst garb. The mud was nearly saddle-skirt deep in the roads, and

the low lands utterly impassable.

I thought that never yet did country merit its name so well as it;

the whole of the Louisiana bottoms being indiscriminately known as the

“swamp,” and people, male and female, termed “swampers.”

The appearance of the country would have disgusted and deterred many

from settling, but it had the promise of being a sickly one, and highly

suitable for a doctor--and such was the locality I sought; besides, I

was certain of making a support, and to accomplish that, I would have

submitted to any and all privations.

I returned safely to the “Bend,” and being careful in my selection of

a boat this time, to see that she had not a government contract for

transporting powder, arrived at my former home, and commenced making

preparations for a speedy return to my adopted “swamp.”

In a few days, I had concluded my arrangements, and without a sigh or

a tear of regret turned my back on my student home, and sought my new

location, which I reached without further adventure.

CUPPING AN IRISHMAN.

|During my last year's attendance on the lectures, I became the inmate,

for the purpose of walking the wards, of a certain marine hospital,

situated on a certain western river--of which Randolph has recorded his

opinion--where the patients receive--paradoxical as it may seem--the

kindest, yet the grossest treatment imaginable.

There were four or five brother “Rats” besides myself residing in the

hospital, all candidates for graduation, and consequently all desirous

of obtaining sufficient medical lore to prevent us from being thrown

higher at the “ides of March.”

Never before--at least by any of us--was such assiduity displayed;

so much mental pabulum devoured; so many of the latent energies of

studiousness called into play, as then. No case, however disgusting,

was put in the objective; no symptom, however trivial, obscure, or

mysterious, could pass unnoticed; and the proudest soar of the bird

of Jove would have passed unheeded, had a sore of another description

occurred coincidently. Fingers which the previous session had never

been employed in higher surgery than forking a sleepy chum, or picking

needlepoints out of a pretty seamstress's hand, now gracefully adapted

the pliant bandage to the fractured limb, or drew the ruby with the

lancet keen. No longer the sweet vision of midnight oyster-suppers

illumined the mental horizon, obscured by the listening to of six long

lectures daily. No longer at the “wee short hours avant the twal” was

our Ganymede summoned to evoke the spirit of the whiskey jug. No longer

musingly reclining did we watch the airy genii of the best cigar,

borne up heavenward on the curling chariots of their consuming earthly

tabernacles. No longer--pshaw! to comprise the whole, we were studying

for our degrees, preparing for the opportunity of passing our opinion on

the question, “Whether the sheepskin of a young graduate, applied to his

back, would be a contiguous or a continuous membrane?”

Among the rest was Charley L------, a young fellow of considerable

talents--well aware, by the bye, of their possession--who having heard

of my reputation for cupping, was not long in bantering me to a trial of

skill, having some pretensions that way himself.

“Tensas,” said he one night, when we had all assembled in the

apothecary's shop of the establishment, to compare notes and discuss the

day, “do you think you could cup an Irishman?”

“Cup an Irishman!” repeated I, “yes, or a Dutchman, or an eel, or a

buck running, or a streak of slow lightning, or anything that wears four

square inches of skin. But why do you ask, Charley?”

“Why, I tried to-day, and it took me so long, and was not well done at

that, that I got in late to old D--------'s lecture, and he looked as

sour at me as if he had caught one of the vice presidents of the P. T.

S., drinking something stronger than water.”

“Well, just show your Irishman to me, and if I don't scarify and cup

him in ten minutes I'll treat--that is, take notes for the whole crowd

to-morrow.”

“I'll give you half an hour, and you can't do it--scarify and put twelve

tumblers on him. I'll bet you a box of cig--hem--give you choice of

subjects at the next raising.”

“Done! when shall the trial come off?”

“Right off; everything is ready, Irishman and all.”

In the medical ward at that time was an Irishman, evidently not long

caught, whose greatest disease, from all external indications, was

poverty.

The weather being very inclement, and the hospital having the reputation

of keeping up good fires, and feeding its inmates pretty well, Pat took

an idea into his head that he would lay up within its friendly walls

during the severity of the winter; so going to the mayor of the city,

whose benevolent heart never allowed him to refuse an applicant for the

city's charities, he obtained by his piteous representations and obvious

want, a hospital permit, and was, in consequence of it, soon snugly

ensconced.

Having the faculty of bending one knee, so that no efforts could

straighten the joint, he came in as a case of chronic rheumatism, and

manfully the rascal stood the kind exertions to relieve him, so as to

deceive the most experienced, and cause the putting of him down in the

books as one of the “incurables.”

Charley, however, having fine opportunities of investigating the case,

had his suspicions aroused as to the reality of Pat's disease, and,

determining to settle the matter, selected him as my cupping subject.

“Boys,” said he, “I believe Pat's shamming; suppose we tell him that old

D-------- has directed him to be scarified and cupped, and Tensas can

apply the remedy!”

“Agreed!” said all with one voice. Filling a tray with tumblers and a

bottle of alcohol, we proceeded in a body to the ward where the victim

was placidly reposing.

Seeing us approach with all the apparatus for “making a night of it,”

Pat imagined he was going to be put on a more stimulating course of

treatment, and his eyes fairly glistened, and his leg was, if possible,

drawn still more closely to his body as he took a mental view of his

situation; no work, good lodgings, pleasant medicine, liberal diet, and

at last, to cap the climax of his earthly felicity, the pure “Crame of

the Valley.”

Well, Pat, my boy, how do you rise to-night?”.

“Faith, an' good troth, young docthurs, like Inglan's tare for the ould

counthry's misry, I don't rise at all at all--not aven the laste bit;

here is me stretched on me back like a nagur, unable to work for my

praties, or a wee drap of the crathur, ochone! ochone!”

“Don't you improve any? Can't you walk a bit?”

“Shure, not a bit! How am I to travel when my fut is bent up to where

a rich man's boot shakes hands with a puir man? ochone! Its 'frade I am

I'll be always here, instid of warkin', an' drinkin', an' votin', an'

bein' a fray-man, as me muther was to the fore.”

“I hope not, Pat,” said I, desirous of bringing the conversation to a

close, “old D-------- has directed me to cup you, and that is what has

brought us up.”

“Cup me, is it? Well it's reddy I am--shure an' have been for the long

time; make it strong with the whiskey; bless the ould man, I tould him

the other day, when he was prachin' the could wather, that a good strong

cup would cure me as well!”

Great was Pat's consternation when he found that the tumblers, from

which arose the odoriferous scent of the alcohol, were to go on him,

instead of their contents going in him. He would have demurred, but

he saw the uselessness of the attempt, and therefore assented to the

operation with rather a lank visage, I must confess.

I soon repented the wager, and wished myself well rid of my bargain; the

rascal had perfect command of the muscles of his brawny chest, and

no sooner would a cup be exhausted and applied, than with a sudden

contraction of the muscles, he would send it, with a simmering noise,

rolling to the distant side of the bed. I tried every way, in the usual

manner, to make them retain their hold, but the task was fruitless;

occasionally one would flatter me it was going to remain, but scarcely

could I give my attention to the other side, when off it would come. The

half hour wanted but ten minutes of being out, and the cups were still

unapplied. I became almost desperate, and called up two long-nailed

Kentucky nurses, and made them hitch their fingers in the folds of the

integuments on either side, so as to hold the muscles tense until the

cups could adhere. This plan bid fair to answer, and the jeerings,

remarks, and shouts of laughter, at my apparent discomfiture, which

had greeted me in that unusual place for mirth, somewhat subsided;

one minute of the allotted time was left, and but one cup remained

unapplied. Up to this time, the steward of the hospital had been waiting

upon me, pouring the alcohol, with which to exhaust the cup, from a

tumbler nearly full into an empty glass, and then turning it out, he

would hand it to me, and by the time it was applied have another

ready; but one remained, as I have said, and I was waiting for it, when

Charley, who had a finale for his test which none of us anticipated,

suddenly substituted for the empty glass, the one nearly full of pure

alcohol; suspecting no such trick, and there being no time for critical

examination, I stuck the candle to it, and essayed as the blaze burst

out, to apply it high up on the Irishman's breast. With a rushing,

roaring sound, out burst the flaming liquid all over the poor devil's

body.

With a loud scream, amidst the roars of involuntary laughter which

attended his advent, Patrick gave a spring nearly to the ceiling, and

dashing like fragile reeds the sturdy men who were holding him to the

floor, amidst the cries of fire! fire! curses in Irish, loud and long,

and the crash of the shivering tumblers, as he shed himself of them,

took refuge in a large bathing-tub full of water, which, fortunately for

him, stood in the ward.

The shouts of fire alarmed the whole hospital, and here, pell-mell, came

the patients to see where it was. Forms emaciated by consumption rustled

against others distended by dropsy. Four forms lay mixed up in the hall,

and all of them could only muster up two pairs of legs, a pair and a

half of eyes, and four arms. It was as though a false alarm had been

given by Gabriel, and only a partial resurrection had taken place.

In one of the upper apartments was a private patient, labouring under

the disease indifferently known as the blue-devils, red-monkeys, seeing

injuns, or man-with-the-poker, or rather that mysterious individual had

succeeded in overtaking his victim, and awful licks, to be sure, he was

giving. His delirium was, that he was an alligator, and that there was a

blood-thirsty minnow determined on taking his life at all hazards. Great

were his struggles to preserve himself, requiring the constant presence

of two keepers to restrain him from self-immolation.

Hearing the shouts of fire from below, they, acting on the conservative

principle, left their patient, and sought safety in flight, not long

unfollowed by the drunkard, who proceeded down stairs, until he came to

the ward from whence the shouts of laughter had not ceased to issue.

The door being open, in he marched, presenting a fearful aspect--nearly

naked, his eyes blood-shotten, and glaring with the light of delirium,

his teeth clenched, with the lips drawn apart, a slight foam resting

on them, blood dripping from a wound in his forehead, and brandishing

a huge medical appurtenance, acting on the principle of the force-pump,

and familiar to children on a small scale.

Seeing Pat in the tub, the cynosure of all eyes, the man with the

red-monkeys took an idea that he was the identical minnow aiming at the

vitality of his alligatorship, and this would be a good opportunity of

killing him off.

With a loud yell, he sprung towards poor Pat, who, perfectly bewildered,

let him get nearly on him, before he thought of getting out of the way.

“Hould him!” he yelled, “the crathur's gone clane out of his head! Holy

jabers! hould him! He'll be afther the killin' me!”

But no one having time, or showing a disposition to interfere, he found

he would have to bestir himself in his own behalf, and the biggest

tracks, and the fastest, and the more of them, were made by the man who,

previous to the time, had not moved a step for months. Through the long

hall, down the double steps, out of the yard, and over the commons he

went, yelling at every jump, whilst the “man with the poker's” friend,

perfectly satisfied at the result, fish-like squatted down in the tub,

and then quietly suffered himself to be led back to his room.

BEING EXAMINED FOR MY DEGREE.

|Reader! have you ever taken a shower-bath of a cold winter's morning?

or felt a snake crawling over you whilst in bed? or tried to sleep with

a deadly fight awaiting you in the morning? or tried to unite the oil

of your nature with the agua pura of a chattering damsel, and found

no alkali to effect the union--in other words, popped the question and

been--refused? or swallowed poison, and no stomach-pump about? or slept

with a man with the small-pox? or tried to write, with a couple of

gabbling widows in the next room? or run for a political office? or

shook hands with the itch? or been without a friend or dollar, thousands

of miles from home, and a catch-pole after you for your tavern bill? or

had the toothache? or--think of the most uneasy, miserable melancholy,

dolesome action, sensation, occurrence, or thought of your life. Read

of nothing for two weeks but earthquakes, famines, bankruptcy, murders,

suicides, and distress in its blackest form: work on your imagination

until you feel yourself labouring under all these combined misfortunes,

and perhaps then you may have a slight appreciation of how a young grave

rat feels just before he is examined for his degree. Examined, too,

by seven old dried-up specimens of humanity, who look as if they had

descended for the occasion from some anatomical museum, and who have

looked on death, suffering, and annual ranks of medical aspirants, until

they have about as much softness of heart as the aforesaid preparations.

The first course of medical lectures the _student_ attends, is generally

distinguished by his devotion to everything but his studies. At

the commencement of the lectures he purchases a blank-book, for the

ostensible purpose of taking notes of the lectures; but unwittingly his

fingers, instead of tracing the chirographical characters, are engaged

in caricaturing the professor, who is endeavouring to beat into his and

a few hundred kindred heads, the difference between a dirty Israelite

and the 'nasty moses of an artery. He devotes the midnight hour to

dissecting--pigs-feet, grouse, and devilled bones, or the delicate

structure of the epicurean oyster. He strengthens his voice by making

the short hours of the night-clad street alive with the agreeable

annunciation, especially to nervous invalids and sick children, that

he “will not go home till morning.” He astonishes the professor of

chemistry when lecturing upon electricity, by placing a few pounds of

powder in communication with the machine, and blowing the laboratory to

atoms, when the experiments are going on. He forms a pleasant surprise

for his landlady by slipping into the dining-hall when the meats are

on the table, and slyly inserting a dead baby, stolen from the

dissecting-room, under the cover, in place of the abstracted pig,

producing a pleasant sensation when discovered, and giving a good

appetite to the boarders. He puts quick-lime into the young ladies'

puff-box, and gives them a wash of lunar caustic to allay the

irritation. He and the janitor go halves in raising game-cocks, and the

expenses of a whole winter's lectures are often bet on a _main_. There

is always some medical book that he wishes to purchase, of course very

expensive--and to obtain which he is always writing home for money

to parents or guardian. John Smith suffers, and always appears in the

police reports, when the first course student is put in the watch-house,

and let off by the kind-hearted mayor next morning, on paying fees and

promising to amend. To sum up the whole, the first course, with few

exceptions, conducts himself in such a manner, that but little injustice

is done him when he is classed with free negroes, rowdies, and low-flung

draymen. But the second course--phew! what a change comes over the

fellow! You would think, to see him, that when he was born, gravity and

soberness had given up the ghost, and their disembodied spirits found a

carnal habitation in his cranium.

He now endeavours, by unremitting attention, to retrieve lost time,

and impress the professors favourably in his behalf, for he is now a

candidate for graduation, and he dare not go home without his degree.

His care-clad face is now seen on the foremost bench, listening with a

painful absorption, and taking voluminous notes in a book--not the only

thing bound in calf-skin in the room, by long odds--and always asks,

with the utmost deference, long explanations on some favourite theory

of the lecturer, so dazzlingly original, that he did not perfectly

understand it, so bewildered was he by admiration. He smells of the

dissecting-room, and takes occasion, when in the presence of the

professor of anatomy, of jerking out his handkerchief, and with it the

half cut up hand of a subject. He eschews tobacco, whiskey, and women,

joins the physiological temperance society, and collects facts for a

forthcoming work of the professor of practice. He is a strong vitalist

with “Old Charley,” and lies-big with the Liebigian follower of acids

and alkalies. He presents the pelvis of the female that obeyed the

Lord's ordinance twenty-six times in ten years, to the professor of

observations, and has a faculty of making himself generally useful to

the whole faculty. I, to return to particularities, had followed after

the manner of _first coursers_, and would have been a _fac simile_ of

the candidate, or second course student, had it not been for my habitual

laziness, and perhaps an overweening confidence in my natural powers of

impudence to push me through. I had had one or two fights the previous

session, in the college, which brought me favourably, of course, before

the notice of the faculty, as a quiet, studious gentleman, and removed

all doubts from my mind of my having a safe and honourable passage. I

held a high head, but was confoundedly frightened, and often wished that

I were not an aspirant for the privilege of being a hired assassin, a

slayer, without the victim having a chance to hit back. Many, I say,

were my misgivings, as I saw the ides of March, the time for

examination, approach, that my want of medical lore might knock me

higher than the green baize of medicine could cluster--and yet, never

was poor mortal better entitled to write M.D. after his name than I,

miserable devil as I was. But fear would not keep back the evil day. The

bell sounded for class T to go up and be examined, and away we went

slowly, as to a summons for pistols and coffee for two, with feelings

resembling those of a gambler who has staked his whole pile, and found

at the _call_ that he has been bluffing up against a _greenhorn with

“three white aces_.”

We were to be examined in separate rooms; our class, consisting of seven

members, by as many professors, fifteen minutes being allotted to each

professor in which to find out the qualifications of the candidate.

I have already indicated the course I intended to pursue in my

examination--impudence and assurance was a new method for a candidate,

and might succeed where-the old plan would be nearly certain to fail.

Entering boldly, without knocking, the room of one of the professors,

who, being a superannuated widower, affected youthfulness very much, and

prided himself very much, like a Durham stock raiser, on the beauty

of his calves, to his dismay I found him arranging a pair of elaborate

false ones, which showed a great disposition to work around to the front

of his spindle-shanks. I had him dead for his vote, sure. I held the

calves, whilst he adapted them to their places, and smoking a cigar

during his fifteen minutes--he congratulated me upon the progress, he

had often remarked, I was making in my studies, and at the expiration of

his time, as he conducted me to the door, assured me he would vote for

me, adding, “by-the-bye, Tensas, you needn't mention anything about the

calves.”

Well! here's one vote, sure; would I had the other six as safe, thought

I. “Physiology, where are you? You are wanted!” said I, as the door

enclosed me with the professor of that branch, who, fortunately for me,

was what is called a _vitalist_--sticking up for nature, and bitterly

denied the Liebigian theory, which refers so many of the living

phenomena to chemistry. He and the professor of chemistry were nearly at

daggers' points upon the subject, and exceedingly excitable whenever it

was mentioned in their presence. I knew my cue.

“Take a seat, Mr. Zensas, you appear wondrous full of vivacity,” said

the professor, as I entered, singing “A was an artery,” &c. “Yes, sir,

and I can assure you it is vivacity of the same kind that a beneficent

Creator exhaled into the nostrils of the first-created--life in

the sense in which every reasonable man--every man with a proper

appreciation of the subject--every man of learning and intellect, and

physiological acquisition, regards the vital principle--and not

that degraded vitality of the Liebigian system, which makes man's

assimilating functions a chemical operation, and degrades his mighty

nature to the level of the ass”--“hideous doctrine,” broke in the

old professor. “Mr. Tensas, would that the whole class possessed your

discriminative wisdom; then I could descend to the grave with the proud

consciousness that man held of his existence the same exalted opinion

that I have always tried to teach; then would I see this chemical theory

of life exploded. Theory which degrades man lower than the brutes, makes

the subtlest operations of his nature a mere chemical effect, and the

noble action of the lungs a scape-pipe for extra heat; magnificent--”

And the excited physiologist, carried away by his feelings, burst into

one of his wildest harangues, battling for his favourite theory with

more vigour than he had ever displayed in the rostrum--and there never

had stood his superior for eloquence--until a knock at the door broke in

upon his declamatory current and dammed its waters.

“Bless me!” he exclaimed, rubbing his glasses and looking at his watch,

“is my time out? Why, I have done all the talking. But go, Mr. Tensas,

the views that you advocate attest your qualifications. You may depend

upon my vote and influence.”

“Two votes safe!” said I, as I regained the lobby, “and now for old

'_Roots_,' as the professor of Mat. Med. was familiarly called by the

class--he's deaf, but thinks no one knows it but himself. I'll talk low,

and he won't know whether I am answering correctly or not.”

“Take a seat, Mr. Tensas. How are you to-day? I suppose you are ready

for being examined? What is calomel?” All this being said _sotto voce_.

“A drug, sir, that may be called the right bower of quackery, and the

four aces of medical murder; referred to by Shakspeare when he said,

'Throw physic to the dogs,' and specifically mentioned by him, though a

typo graphical error has somewhat obscured it, evidencing its antiquity

and universal administration at his time in the lines, 'Be thou as pure

as ice, as chaste as snow, thou shalt not escape Calumel.'”

I spoke in a whisper, but moved my lips as if vociferating.

“Right, Mr. Tensas; but you need not holler so as to alarm the college;

I am not deaf. What is the usual dose in the South?”

“Half a pound for an infant, and the quadrature of the stomach's circle

for a grown negro!”

“What are its specific effects upon the system?”

“The free use of coffins, spit-boxes, mush-and-milk, and the invention

of new oaths with which to curse the doctor!”

“What diseases is it usually given in?”

“In all, and some others, from want of a clean shirt to the

death-rattle!”

“Right, sir, right,” said the examiner, never doubting, from my aptitude

of reply and perfect seriousness, but that they were to the point. “What

are emetics?”

“Medicines, that a man who has dined badly, and wants to conceal it,

should never take!”

“What are the most certain?”

“The first cigar, the first quid, or a spoiled oyster!”

“What is their action?”

“That of money won at gambling; going back the way it came, and taking a

good deal more than it brought!”

“When should lobelia be given?”

“At elections, where the people are writing a man down an ass, and he

wants to be _brought-up_ ahead!”

“What dose would you give it in?”

“If the patient was likely to leave a rich widow, I'd certainly give a

pound!”

“When would you think an emetic had acted sufficiently?”

“When I was in doubt whether it was the patient's tongue or his stomach

that was hanging out of his mouth!”

“What are purgatives?”

“Medicines, whose action bears the same relation to that of emetics,

which the possums did to the hollow where the dog was waiting to catch

them--they go the other way!”

“Suppose your patient had a diarrhoea, what medicine would you give?”

“A quart of brandy, for it would be sure to make him _tight!_”

“What are the most dangerous preparations of lead?”

“Congressional speeches in Washington, and buckshot in the Southern

States!”

“From what does hive syrup derive its name?”

“From the fact of bees living in hives, and there being honey in it!”

“Right, sir! all right! You have answered admirably. I see I must vote

for you. You can go, sir!”--and out I went.

“Three votes! Hurrah! Two more, and I'm safe. Now for Old Sawbones. I'm

sure of him, though;” for upon surgery I was prepared, and my intimacy

with that professor assured me he must be aware of it, and would

attribute the errors I might commit to natural trepidation under the

circumstances.

He was a man of too much good sense to wheedle or fool with, and

notwithstanding my confidence in my good preparation, and his

appreciation of it, I anticipated a terrible time with him.

My heart sank as I entered his room. “Be seated, Mr. Tensas. Beautiful

weather for this season. Have an apple? Here is an instrument for

deligating the subclavian artery, that the maker has done me the honour

to call after me. How do you like it? Think I must order a dozen. Do to

give to acquaintances,” rattled on the kind-hearted professor, trying

to reassure me, which he failed to do, for I regarded his pleasantry

as somewhat akin to the cat sporting with its victim. “You never shave,

Tensas, I believe? Apropos, how old are you?” I jumped clear out of

my seat at the question. The institution required a candidate to be

twenty-one, which I was not, by several months.

“It's rather late in the day to inquire that, professor,” replied I,

“you should have asked that before I paid for your ticket.”

“Well, you are old enough to be examined for your degree, I expect, as

you'll be rejected, in all probability. How do you make chicken-soup?”

I began to get nettled, thinking he was sporting with me upon my

embarrassed condition; but a glance at his face told me he was, or

strongly pretending to be, in earnest.

“Professor--------,” I said, “I came here, sir, to be examined upon

surgery; not to be insulted, sir. What chicken-soup has to do with it,

I cannot imagine. If you are disposed to twit me with my early life and

humble occupation, I can assure you, sir--”

“Stop! stop! No insult was intended, and though you, with your wisdom

of almost twenty-one years, cannot see the connexion between soup and

surgery, I can tell you, young man, that the success of the surgeon

depends very much upon kitchen medicine. Good soup is easily digested,

and strengthens the patient, but bad discomposes, and prevents the

reparative action of the system. But this is not answering my question.

How do you, sir, make chicken soup?”

Seeing that if he was not in earnest, it was the best imitation I had

seen lately, I vouchsafed to answer the subtle inquiry.

After I had concluded--“Mr. Tensas, you have left out a very important

item in the preparation of your soup: you forgot to mention in the first

instance whether you would kill the chicken or not.”

The glance I shot at him was too much for his gravity. Bursting into a

hearty laugh, he' said, “Tensas, I knew you were well prepared, but

I thought I would teach you that nothing that may be conducive to

the recovery of our patient, is too trivial to be remembered by the

physician--also to try your temper. You have too much of the latter. The

sick-bed is a fine moderator, however. Go, my dear fellow, study hard,

and in ten years I will hear from you.” Tears sprung into my eyes as I

wrung his hand, and thanked him, on leaving his room.

Four votes safe. One more, and the others may go to Hellespont. Now for

chemistry. “How do you do, Mr. Tensas? Be composed, sir. Take a chair.

Happy to have the opportunity of gratifying my chemical curiosity at

your expense. I expect you candidates think your professors a very

inquisitive set of fellows about this time. Ha! ha! Take a chair, sir.”

“Professor--------, I am quite well, I am happy to inform you, and

desirous of appearing as composed as possible. I also felicitate myself

that it is in my power to display to you the fruits, as elaborated in

my mind, of those eloquent expositions of chemical science which it has

been my good fortune to receive, at such an inadequate remuneration,

from your lips. Here is a pamphlet, very denunciatory, I am sorry to

announce, of you, that I thought you would like to see. It is by the

professor of physiology, and appearing first in a distant city, I

thought you might not be aware of its publication; my admiration and

friendship for you, together with my anxiety for the promotion of the

Liebigian system, led me to procure a copy at an expense which, though

considerable in the present dilapidated condition of my finances, never

caused the least hesitation in its purchase, when the great good which

doubtless would result from your early acquaintance with its pernicious

principles was considered.”

It took me at least five minutes, in a slow, monotonous, and pompous

manner, to deliver this, and only ten were left to the examiner.

“Thank you, Mr. Tensas, thanks for your kind consideration for myself

and the system I am proud to advocate, even though it be through

detraction and vituperation. I will examine it at my leisure--we have

now other business before us. Give me an exposition, Mr. Tensas, of the

Atomic or Daltonian theory.”

Down below zero went my hitherto buoyant spirits--my scheme had

failed--I am gone, thought I, when up my heart bounded again as he

interrupted me with, “Ah! how did you say you obtained this atrocious

publication? Mr. Tensas, that gentleman, the author, is doing a

great and irremediable injury to the cause of truth and scientific

controversy. In arguing with a man of philosophical pretensions, it is

to be expected that he will combat only those principles which”--and in

a tone of grieved and wounded innocence, not giving me an opportunity

of giving him the required exposition of the Atomic or Daltonian theory,

_which I very much regretted_, the professor concluded the time allotted

him for examination, saying, as I bid him adieu, “Mr. Tensas, I shall be

happy to see you at my house to-night; you may rest assured of my vote.”

I stood in the lobby with perfect ease, confident that in having five

votes out of the seven--three being required to reject--I was soon to be

dubbed Doctor of Medicine. The examinations of the other two professors

I got through with very summarily, fainting away before one, and

occupying the fifteen minutes to restore me, and before the other, being

seized with a violent bleeding at my nose; but in justification of my

own honour, I must state that the representations by the rest of the

faculty of the splendid examination I had passed before them, influenced

their votes, and I obtained all; and, at the appointed time, received

my degree, and a square yard of sheepskin, as an attestation of the

progress I had made in medicine, giving me a free permit to kill whom I

pleased without the fear of the law.

STEALING A BABY.

|I never was partial to dogs (although I dined some years ago very

heartily upon the haunch of one, that a rascally Indian sold to the

family for venison--the scoundrel's back gave proof not long after, that

it, to him at least, was really dear meat); they have always been my

aversion, and the antipathy of my earlier years has not been in the

least diminished by the part one took--not only out of my leg--but in

breaking off as pretty a love-scrape as ever Cupid rejoiced at.

I was attending my last course of lectures, previous to graduation, in a

northern state, and as a matter of course had but very little leisure

to devote to amusement or love. But nevertheless, even amidst all my

occupation, I found time to renew and continue a friendship bordering

closely upon love, even then, which I had formed the previous winter,

with a young lady residing in the city.

We were both young--alas! that there similarity ceased--she was

beautiful--my ugliness was so apparent that I acknowledged it myself.

She was wealthy--I had nothing but my profession, it not then secure.

She was--but why continue the enumeration of our contrasts? suffice

it to say that we were fast approaching the condition when love in

a cottage, and thoughts of an annual searching for sentimental and

beautiful names occupy so much of the mind, when an infernal dog (not

only of a daddy--but a real caniner) jumped--like a swamp gal into a

jar of pickles--into the ring of our felicity, and left me to wail him

first, and myself afterwards.

I hated dogs, and the father of my beloved had an equal aversion

to Southerners, and according to the degree that class stood in his

estimation, the old man and myself disliked the same objects; so his

daughter and myself had to meet by stealth.

Twice a week the class of medical students attended clinical lectures at

the hospital, which was situated in a retired part of the town; thither

the young lady, on the appointed evenings, would repair, and awaiting

the departure of the class, we, on our walk homewards, could talk over

our love affairs without fear or interruption.

This pleasant arrangement had continued until nearly the close of the

session, and we had agreed that when graduated, if her father's obduracy

did not soften, we would elope, when some good-natured friend kindly

informed her father of our intimacy, and that even as he came then to

apprise him, he had met her going to keep her appointment.

Highly incensed, the old man started off to pursue her, out

unfortunately did not arrive to prevent, but only witness an occurrence

which attracted considerable attention at the time. Anatomy has been

ever with me a favourite branch of my profession; and when a student, I

never let slip an opportunity, time and material permitting, to improve

myself in it by dissection. It was a passion with me; and whenever I met

with a person extremely emaciated or finely developed, my anatomical

eye would scan their proportions, and instead of paying them the usual

courtesies of life, I would be thinking what glorious subjects they

would be for museum preparations or dissection; and even when my

audacious lips were stealing a kiss from the pulpy mouth of my

lady-love, instead of floating into ecstasies of delight, my anatomical

mind would wonder whether, even in death, electricity, by some peculiar

adaptation, might not be able to continue their bewitching suction. When

holding her soft hand in mine, and gazing into the star-lit ocean of her

soul, I would wonder if there was not some peculiarity in the formation

of her optic nerve which gave her eyes such brilliancy. My poetical

rhapsodies were mingled with scraps of anatomy, and in attempting to

write her some verses, after writing the first line,

“The clouds which clothed yon beauteous shore with garments

dark and hazy”--

to save me, the nearest approximation I could make to a rhyme, was:

“Pray use with me not the '_levator labii superioris alaque nasi_?

To tell the truth, I was becoming clean daft upon the _subject_,

and consumptive people and orphan children began to look on me with

suspicion, but Lucy attributed my conduct-to the eccentricities of

genius and love.

Connected with the hospital the class attended was a dead-house, as is

usual in such establishments, where such patients whose constitutions

are not strong enough to stand the treatment, are deposited after death

for forty-eight hours, in order that their friends may reclaim their

bodies. The _morgue_, in this institution, was directly under the

lecture room, but, as the door was kept locked, it was regarded as

sufficiently private.

On the day when my intended father-in-law was made acquainted with

the clandestine meetings of his daughter and myself, I had, as usual,

accompanied the class to the hospital, and, during the delivering of the

lecture, becoming suddenly very faint, I was forced to leave the crowded

room and seek the fresh air.

As I passed the door of the dead-house on my return, I noticed that it

was ajar, and curiosity prompting me to see what was within, I pushed it

open and entered, closing it behind me. There were several bodies,

male and female, cleanly arrayed upon the table; but the object that

attracted my attention the most was an infant a few weeks old lying by

the side of its dead mother; they were both so black in the face that

I would have suspected foul play, had it not been accounted for by the

fact that they were negroes. I strove to depart, but something formed a

bond of association between that dead nigger baby and myself, which held

me to my place, my gaze riveted upon it.

I wanted just such a subject--one I could carry up in my private room

and dissect whilst I was waiting for my meals--something to wile away

my tedious hours with--but how to get it was the thing; the rules of the

college and hospital were imperative, and I did not wish to be expelled.

I could not beg, borrow, or buy--there was but one way left, and that

was stealing.

The plan was simple and easily arranged. It was very cold weather,

and under the ample folds of my cloak the baby would be concealed

effectually.

Separating it from its dead mother's embrace, I rolled it, tenderly

as if alive, into as small a space as possible, and tying it up in my

handkerchief, I placed it under my cloak, and left the dead-house.

Had I left immediately for home, on the baby's absence being discovered

I would have been suspected immediately; so, great as was the danger, I

had no other resource than to return to the lecture-room, and await our

regular dismissal, running the chances of detection. No one, on looking

at me then, would have accused me of feigning sickness; for, manfully as

I strove to be composed, the danger of discovery unnerved me completely,

and gave me such a tremor as would have passed for a creditable ague.

I have been often enough in imminent danger of my life, to know what

cold sweat and minutes appearing hours are; but the longest life, in

the shortest space of time I ever led, was when, in the midst of four

hundred students, I sat on those hard old benches, with the dead nigger

baby under my cloak, waiting for the lecture to conclude.

It had its end at last; and, waiting till the class had pretty well

dispersed, I sauntered slowly away towards my boarding-house, hoping

that the inclemency of the weather had kept Lucy from keeping our usual

appointment.

A sleety rain had fallen the preceding night, and, like Mrs.

Blennerhasset's tears, freezing as it fell, had covered the pavement

with a thin coat of ice, making the walking for pedestrians very

insecure.

Surely, I thought, as a keen gust came round the corner, piercing my

marrow with its coldness, her tender frame will not be exposed on such

a day as this! 'tis a good thing, too; for she would be horrified if

she found what my burden was;--when her smiling face, with her beautiful

nose red as an inflamed eye, appeared, and told me I did not possess a

proper appreciation of the strength of a Kentucky gal's affection.

Somewhat vexed, and, for the first time in my life, sorry to see her,

I wished her (as it was so cold) in the hottest place I knew of; but

dissembling my feelings, I vowed, when she came up, that if I had

received the appointment of surgeon-general to the angels, it could not

give me more pleasure than to see her then. I appeared as unconcerned

as I could, and sedulously talked to her of such things as are very

interesting to lovers and old maids, but deuced tiresome to all other

parties concerned.

We had nearly reached the street corner where we usually parted, when,

horror of horrors! who should we see coming round the identical corner

but the lady's father, accompanied by a man that bore a marvellous

resemblance to the city marshal!

Instead of fainting, Lucy uttered a stifled shriek, and gritting her

teeth dragged me into a house, the door of which stood invitingly open;

one step more, and if Fate had not been against me, these pages would

never have been written, that baby would have been anatomized, and in

all probability, instead of being an old rusty swamp doctor, “caring a

cuss for nobody, nobody caring for me,” I would have been the happy head

of a family, and, rolling in my carriage, describe the great operation

of extracting two jaw-teeth, I saw performed the last time I was in

Paris. But the beautiful hath departed, and never was.

A growl, a loud yell, bow! wow! wow! and with mouth distended like an

alligator catching his dessert of flies, a huge bull dog sprang at us,

placing us in rather a dilemma; it was the dog of a daddy on one hand,

and the daddy of a dog on the other.

Unlike Miss Ullin, who preferred meeting the raging of the skies to an

angry father, embarked in a skiff and got drowned, I preferred an angry

father to a mad bull dog; so seizing Lucy, I made a spring backwards,

forgetting in my haste the slippery pavement; our feet flew up, and down

we came in the open street, cross and pile, our inferior extremities

considerably intermingled, and her ankles not as well protected from the

heat as they might have been.

My cloak flew open as I fell, and the force of the fall bursting its

envelope, out, in all its hideous realities, rolled the infernal imp of

darkness upon the gaze of the laughing, but now horrified spectators.

The old man had witnessed the whole scene; springing to my feet, I

assisted the lady to rise, and handed her over to her father. As he

disappeared with her round the corner, I volunteered to whip the crowd,

individually or collectively, but nobody seemed disposed to accept of my

services. Picking up my baby, I explained the whole to a constable who

was on the point of arresting me for child-murder.

I sent the subject back to the dead-room, and came as near being

expelled from college as ever a lover of knowledge did, to miss it. I

have never seen Lucy since, and my haggard features and buttonless coat

testify that the swamp doctor is still a bachelor.

THE “SWAMP DOCTOR” TO ESCULAPIUS.

|Behold me, then, who late was a city physician of a week's duration,

a veritable “Swamp Doctor,” settled down quietly, far from the

blandishments of fashionable life, and awaiting, as when in town, though

with not half of my then anxiety, the “first call.”

A veritable “Swamp Doctor,” to whom French boots and broadcloth must

be obsolete ideas; the honest squatters thinking--and with propriety

too--that a doctor who could put broadcloth over their stiles, must have

to charge very high to support such extravagance. A charge to which 'it

is almost fatal for a doctor to lay himself liable to.

A pair of coarse mud boots enclose my feet; copperas-coloured linsey

pants occupy their proper position; a gaudy plaid vest with enormous jet

buttons, blanket-coat and cap, complete the equipment of my outer man.

Allow me to introduce you to my horse; for Charley occupies in my mind

too large a space to be passed over silently when the “Swamp Doctor” is

being described. Too poor to own but one, he has to perform the labour

of several, which the fine blood that courses through his veins easily

enables him to do; like his master, his external appearance is rather

unprepossessing; but would that thy master, Charley, possessed thy

integral virtues! Higli-spirited art thou, old friend--for age is

touching thee, Charles, though thou givest no indication of it, save

in the lock of gray which overhangs thy flashing eyes. Tall in thy

proportions, gaunt in thy outline, sorrel in thy hue, thou hast proved

to me, Charles, that there is other friendship and companioning

besides human kind; thou hast shared my lowly lot for many years,

Charles--together we have passed the lonely night, lost in the

swamp--breasted many an angry stream, and given light to many darksome

hearts, when fever-stricken they awaited my coming, and heard thy joyous

neigh and eager bound. I did not know thy good qualities, Charles, when

first I bought thee, but the years that have wasted away have taught

thy true worth, and made me respect thee as a man. But I must return,

Charles, to when we first took up our home within the “swamp.”

My residence is as humble as my pretensions or my dress, being composed

of split trees, and known in American parlance as a “log cabin.”

A lazy sluggish “bayou”--as all the small watercourses in this country

are Frenchifically termed--glorying in the name of the “Tensas,” runs,

or rather creeps, by the door, before which--on the margin of the

stream--stands one of those grand alluvial oaks which could canopy an

army.

The day is rather sultry; a soft wind is moving its branches, on the

topmost one of which is perched a mocking-bird; how wildly he carols,

how blithesome his every movement! Happy fellow! the barn-yard, the

ploughed ground, the berry-laden tree, all furnish him with food. Nature

clothes him annually, and the leafy branch be neath shields him from the

cold, when clouds and dark ness gather around. Happy fellow! he can sing

with a light heart; his wants are few, and easily supplied. Would that

the “Swamp Doctor” had as little care pressing upon him, that he might

join you in your song; would that his necessities were as few and as

readily provided for! Then, too, he could mock at the world, then,

too, sing like thine a joyous strain; but poverty, youthfulness, the

stranger's want of loving sympathy, chill the rising ardour of his song,

and fling him back upon the cold wave of the world.

But away, care, for the present! away, forebodings of the future! Be as

in former days, Swamp Doctor, joyful at heart--thou hast sung in strains

as wild as that winsome bird's! Let the harmony that pervades the air

paint for thee the future; and of bygones, “let the dead Past bury its

dead!”

Thou hast sung, Swamp Doctor! Then tune afresh thy harp, and give one

strain before thy “first call” shall still with its responsibilities thy

harp, and clothe with sober seriousness thy youthful heart.

Sayest thou so, fair bird? then will I obey. My seat is beneath thy

oak--thine I call it, for early residence hath given thee a pre-emption

to it, surely--thy song is pouring through my heart, the wave at my feet

is glistening in the morning sun, the soft branches overhead rustle and

mingle in joyful greenness, yet I cannot sing of these fair scenes; not

of them can be the burden of my song. Manhood had not set its seal upon

my form; yet not fifty holds an older heart than beats within my breast.

In despite of myself my thoughts are with my calling, with the sick and

suffering who are yet to cast their eyes upon my face, and from it draw

their bright hope or withering despair. What, then, so proper, since

sing I must, as breathing a soft prayer to the patron saint of the

healing art, and invoking his assistance in my future course?

THE SWAMP DOCTOR TO ESCULAPIUS.

Wrapt in the gloom of Superstition's age,

The trade of Chance and men of low degree,

Long lay the Art which teaches to assuage

The many pangs that mankind heirs, to be,

The Art which stills the maniac's fiery rage,

And bids the horrors of his vision flee;

Which soothes the pain its power cannot destroy,

And whispers hope, when hearts are reft of joy.

A Star arose amidst the heaven of gloom,

Which bended o'er this glorious Art divine;

It nobly strove the darkness to illume,

And place the Science on its proper shrine.

It shrank not from the strife, but dared the doom

That meets full oft the soul of high design;

It 'scaped this lot, was victor loud proclaimed,

And Esculapius with the gods was named.

Years have grown old, and Time's relentless hand

Has fallen on many a head of regal pride;

Full many a warrior born to use command

Has kiss'd the grave--that dark repulsive bride;

And many an arch whose fair proportions spanned

The heaving wave, has sunk beneath the tide;

Earth's mightiest things have triumphed over night,

Gleamed forth in splendour, then been lost to sight.

But not so thou; for thou hast never known

What 'twas to feel the waning love of them,

Who, once enchanted, drink in every tone,

Yet let Time chant their worship's requiem;

Forget how praises from their lips have flown,

And eager seek for matter to condemn:

None such thy friends--they prove with deed and heart

That Friendship is of Death a thing apart.

Oh! Patron Saint, sure thine's a brilliant doom!

We judge the future by the seasons past,

And judging thus, eternity will loom

Upon Creation ere thy name is classed

Among the things that were. Thou hast no tomb,

Time cannot say thy glory shall not last,

For it has mocked him from his earliest years

And as he darkens, still more bright appears.

Look on me, Patron Saint, with glance benign!

An humble follower, I bend the knee,

And pray thy knowledge's light may on me shine

In all its splendour and intensity!

So when in death my icy limbs recline,

My name lik'st thine may long remembered be

As one who sought the useful to pursue,

And ease the pangs his fellow-mortals knew.

Yes, let them write upon my lowly grave:

“A true Philanthropist is sleeping here!”

And I no other recompense will crave

To cheer me onward in my future sphere.

Such epitaph as that in truth to have

Were worth all wealth that man amasses here.

High Heaven!--Mock-Bird, the rest must stay unwrit!

“Come, quick, Mass' Doctor, ole Missus got a fit!”

MY FIRST CALL IN THE SWAMP.

|Come quick, Mass' Doctor! ole missus got a fit!” aroused me from my

poetical revery, and brought the invocation to Esculapius to an abrupt

termination.

I was just apostrophizing “High Heaven” when the voice outspoke;

laughing at the ludicrous transition of sounds and ideas, I rolled up my

manuscript and turned to take a survey of the speaker.

He presented nothing remarkable in his appearance, being only a negro

messenger, belonging to a small planter living at the extremity of what

I regarded as my legitimate circuit of practice; from the appearance of

the mule he bestrode, he had evidently ridden in great haste.

Perceiving me to be laughing, and not knowing of anything in his

annunciation to create mirth, he thought I had not heard him when he

first spoke, and therefore repeated, “Come quick, Mass' Doctor! ole

missus got a fit, an' I 'spec is monstrus low, for as I cum by de lot,

I hear Mass' Bill holler to Mass' Bob, and tell him, arter he got dun

knockin' de horns off de young bull, to cum in de house an' see his

gran'-mammy die.” But still I laughed on--there was such an odd mingling

of poetry, Esculapius, missus, fit, Mass' Bob, and knocking the horn

off the young bull, as to strike full my bump of the ludicrous, and the

negro, sitting on his little crop-eared mule, gazed at me in perfect

astonishment, as a monument of unfeelingness.

Suddenly the recollection that this was my “first call,” came over and

sobered me in a second; my profession, with all its sober realities and

responsibilities, was again triumphant, and I stood a serious “Swamp

Doctor.” Ordering a servant to catch my horse, I began to prepare for

the ride, by questioning the negro as to the nature of the disease, age

of the patient, and other circumstances of the case, that might enable

me to carry medicines along suitable to the occasion, as my saddlebags

were of limited capacity, and none of the people kept medicines at home,

except a few of the simplest nature.

“You say your mistress has fits! Does she have them often?” The object

of my inquiries will be apparent to the professional reader.

“Not as I nose on, Mass' Doctor, although I did hearn her say when she

lived in Georgy, she was monstrus nar-vus-like at de full of de moon.”

“How old is your mistress? do you know, boy?”

“How ole! why, Mass' Doctor, she's a bobbullushunary suspensioner, an'

her hare is grayer dan a 'possum's. Ole missus ole for a fak!”

“Has anything happened lately that could have given your mistress the

fit?”

“Nuffin', Mass' doctor, as I nose on, 'cept pr'aps day 'fore yisterday

night ole missus private jug guv out, an' she tole wun of de boys to go

in de smoke-house and draw him full; de fule chile stuck de lite tu nere

de baril, de whiskey cotch, an' sich a 'sploshun never war herd as de

ole smoke-house guvin' up de goast!”

“Your old mistress drinks whiskey, then, and has been without any two

days?”

“Yes, Mass' doctor, an' 'I 'spec it's that what's usen her ip, for she'd

sorter got 'customed to de 'stranger.'”

I had learned enough of the case to give me a suspicion of the disease;

the verification must be deferred until I saw the patient.

She being very old, nervous, and excitable, accustomed to alcoholic

stimulation, suddenly deprived of her usual beverage, and brought

under the depressory influences of losing her smoke-house and barrel of

whiskey, was sufficient cause to produce a case of disease formed by an

amalgamation of _sub-hysteria_ and _quasi delirium tremens_; a not very

flattering diagnosis, considered in a moral point of view, to the old

lady, whose acquaintance I was yet to make. Knowing how much depended

upon the success with which I treated my first cases, it was unnecessary

to give me a serious and reflective air, that I should remember how

much people judged from appearances, and that mine were anything but

indicative of the doctor; whiskers or beard had I none, and even when

wearing the most sober mask, a smile would lurk at the corner of my

mouth, eager to expand into a laugh.

But I must start. Labelling a bottle of brandy “Arkansas Fitifuge,”

I slipped it in my pocket, and mounting my horse, set off upon the

fulfilment of my “first call.”

When we reached the house, my horse reeking with sweat, from the haste

with which we had traversed the muddy roads, I introduced myself, as I

had never seen one of the family before, nor they me--as Doctor Tensas,

and required to be shown the patient. I saw from the countenances of the

assembly, which was more numerous than I had expected to find, that

they were disappointed in the appearance of the new doctor, and that my

unstriking and youthful visage was working fatally against me. In fact,

as I approached the bed, which was surrounded with women, I heard one

old crone remark “_sotto voce_,” “Blessed J------s! is that _thing_ a

doctor? why, his face's as smooth as an eggshell, an' my son John 'peers

a heap older than him, an' he's only been _pupped_ ateen years; grashus

nose sich a young lookin' critter as that shuddent gin me doctor's

truck; he can't have 'sperience, but sens he's here we'll have to

let him go on; half a 'pology is better 'an no commisseration in an

aggervated insult.”

Paying no attention to her depreciatory remarks, but determined to show

them that I knew a thing or two, I commenced examining the patient.

Had I not been prepared by the negro's description, I would have been

surprised at the example of longevity in that insalubrious country which

the invalid presented. Judging from external appearances, she must have

had the opportunity of doing an immensity of talking in her time; her

hair was whiter than the inside of a persimmon seed, and the skin upon

her face resembled a piece of corrugated and smoky parchment, more than

human cuticle; it clove tightly to the bones, bringing out all their

prominencies, and showing the course of the arteries and veins beneath;

her mouth was partly open, and on looking in I saw not the vestige of

a tooth; the great dentist, Time, had succeeded in extracting the

last. She would lie very quietly in a dull comatose condition for a

few moments, and then giving a loud screech, attempt to rub her stomach

against the rafters of the cabin, mumbling out something about “Whiskey

spilt--smoke-house, ruined--and Gineral Jackson fit the Injuns--and she

haddent the histericks!” requiring the united strength of several of the

women to keep her on the bed.

The examination verified my suspicion as to the nature of the disease,

but I had too much knowledge of human nature to give the least

intimation to the females of my real opinion. I had been told by an

old practitioner of medicine, “if you wish to ruin yourself in the

estimation of your female patients, hint that the disease they are

labouring under is connected with hysterics:” what little knowledge

I had acquired of the sex during my student life went to confirm his

observations. But if the mere intimation of hysteria produced such

an effect, what would the positive pronouncing that it was not only

hysterics but a touch of drunken mania? I had not courage to calculate

upon such a subject, but hastily dismissed it. Pronouncing that she had

_fits_, sure enough, I commenced the treatment. Brandy and opium

were the remedies indicated; I administered them freely at half-hour

intervals, with marked benefit, and towards midnight she fell into a

gentle slumber. As I heard her quiet breathing, and saw the rise and

fall of her bosom in regular succession, indicating that the disease was

yielding to my remedies, a gleam of pleasure shot over my face, and I

felt happier by the bedside of that old drunken woman, in that lowly

cabin, in that obscure swamp, than if the many voices of the city were

shouting “laus” unto my name. I was taking the first round in the race

between medicine and disease, and so far was leading my competitor.

It was now past midnight: up to this time I had kept my place by the

bed-side of the patient, and began to get wearied. I could with safety

transfer her care now to one of the old dames, and I determined to do

so, and try and obtain some sleep. The house consisted of a double log

cabin, of small dimensions, a passage, the full depth of the house,

running between the “pens.” As sleep was absolutely required for the

preservation of the patient, and the old dames who were gathered around

the fire, discoursing of the marvels of their individual experience, bid

fair to step over the bounds of proper modulation in their garrulity, I

proposed, in such a way that there was no withstanding the appeal, that

we should all, except the one nursing, adjourn to the other room. The

old ladies acquiesced without a single demurrer, as they were all dying

to have a talk with the “young doctor,” who hitherto, absorbed in his

patient, had shown but little communicativeness.

The male portion of the family had adjourned to the fodder-house to

pass the night, so my once fair companions and self had the whole of the

apartment to ourselves. Ascertaining by actual experiment that it was

sufficiently removed by the passage to prevent ordinary conversation

from being audible at the bed-side of the invalid, the old ladies, in

despite of my hints of “being very tired,” “really I am very sleepy,” and

“I wish I hadn't such a long ride to take to-morrow,” commenced their

attack in earnest, by opening a tremendous battery of small talk and

queries upon me. The terrible breaches that it made, had the effect

of keeping _mine_ on, and I surrendered at discretion to the ladies,

_almost_ wishing, I must confess, that they were a bevy of young

damsels, instead of a set so antiquated that their only knowledge

of love was in seeing their grand-children. Besides, they were only

exacting from me the performance of one of the prescribed duties of the

country physician, performed by him from time immemorial; and why

should they not exact it of me? The doctor of a country settlement was

then--they have become so common now as to place it in the power of

nearly every planter to own a physician, and consequently they attract

little regard--a very important character in the community. Travelling

about from house to house, he became the repository of all the news,

scandal, and secrets of the neighbourhood, which he was expected to

retail out as required for the moral edification of the females of his

“beat;” consequently, his coming was an event of great and exciting

interest to the womenkind generally.

It is a trite observation, that when you have rendered yourself popular

with the wife, you are insured of the patronage of the husband apply it

to the whole sex of women, and it still holds good--married or single

they hold the men up, and without their support, no physician can

succeed. I had imagined, in my youthful simplicity, that when I entered

the swamp, I had left female curiosity--regarding it as the offspring of

polished society--behind; but I found out my mistake, and though I was

very sleepy, I loved my profession too well not to desire to perfect

myself in all the duties of the calling. I have often had a quiet laugh

to myself, when I reflect upon the incidents of that night, and what a

ludicrous appearance I must have presented to a non-participant, when,

on a raw-hide-bottomed chair, I sat in that log cabin, directly in front

of a cheerful fire--for though spring, the nights were sufficiently

cool to render a fire pleasant--the apex of a pyramid of old women,

who stretched in two rows, three on each side, down to the jambs of the

chimney.

There was Miss Pechum, and Miss Stivers, and Miss Limsey, on one side,

and Miss Dims, who, unfortunately, as she informed me, had had her nose

bit off by a wild hog, and Miss Ripson, and Miss Tillot, on the other.

Six old women, with case-hardened tongues, and only one poor humble

“Swamp Doctor,” whom the verdict of one, at first sight, had pronounced

a thing, to talk to them all! Fearful odds I saw, and seeing trembled;

for the fate of the adventurous Frenchman came fresh to my mind, who

proposed for a wager to talk twelve hours with an old widow, and who at

the expiration of the time was found dead, with the old lady whispering

vainly “frog soup” in his ear. There it was one against one, here it was

six versus one, and a small talker at that; but the moments were flying,

no time was to be lost, and we commenced. What marvellous stories I told

them about things I had seen, and what wonderful recitals they gave

me in return! How, first, I addressed my attention to one side of the

pyramid, and then bestowed a commensurate intensity upon the other! How

learnedly we discoursed upon “yarbs,” and “kumfrey tea,” and “sweet gum

sav!” How readily we all acquiesced in the general correctness of the

broken-nose lady's remark, “Bless Jesus! we must all die when our time

kums,” and what a general smile--which I am certain, had it not been for

the propinquity of the invalid, would have amounted to a laugh--went

round the pyramid, when Miss Pechum, who talked through her nose,

snuffled out a witticism of her youngest son, when he was a babe, in

which the point of the joke lay in _bite_, or _right_, or _fight_,

or some word of some such sound, but which the imperfection of her

pronunciation somewhat obscured! How intently we all listened to Miss

Stiver's ghost-story! what upholding of hands and lap-dropping of

knitting, and exclamations of fear and horror and admiration, and

“Blessed Master!” and “Lordy grashus!” and “Well, did you ever!” and

“You don't say so!” and “Dear heart do tell!” and what a universal sigh

was heaved when the beautiful maid that was haunted by the ghost was

found drowned in a large churn of buttermilk that her mother had set

away for market next day! How profuse in my expressions of astonishment

and admiration I was, when, after a long comparison of the relative

sufferings of the two sexes, Miss Stivers--the lady who talked

through her nose, in reply to Miss Dims, the lady who had no nose at

all--declared that “Blessed Master permitting arter all their talk 'bout

women's sufferings, she must say that she thought men had the hardest

time of it, for grashus know's she'd rather have a child every nine

months than scour a skillet, and she ought to know!” How we debated

'whether the 'hives' were catchin' or not?' and were perfectly unanimous

in the conclusion that “Sheep safern” were wonderful “truck!”

Suddenly one of those small screech, or horned owls, so common in the

South and West, gave forth his discordant cry from a small tree, distant

only a few feet from the house; instantaneously every voice was hushed,

all the lower jaws of the old women dropped, every eye was dilated

to its utmost capacity, till the whites looked like a circle of cream

around a black bean, every forefinger was raised to command attention,

and every head gave a commiserative shake, moderating gradually to

a solemn settling. After a considerable pause, Miss Ripson broke the

silence. “Poor creetur! she's gone, doctor, the Fitifuge can't cure her,

she's knit her last pair of socks! Blessed Master! the _screech owl_ is

hollered, and she's bound to die, certin!”

“Certin!” every voice belonging to the females responded, and every

head, besides, nodded a mournful acquiescence to the melancholy

decision.

Not thoroughly versed in the superstitions of the backwoods, I could not

see what possible connexion there could be between the screech of

the owl and the fate of the patient. Desirous of information upon the

subject, I broke my usual rule, never to acknowledge ignorance upon any

matter to ladies--from the first eruption of Vesuvius to the composition

of a plumptitudinizer--and therefore asked Miss Ripson to enlighten me.

I shall never forget the mingled look of astonishment and contempt that

the old lady, to whom the query was propounded, cast upon me as she

replied:--

“How dus screech owls hollerin' make sick people die? Blessed Master!

you a doctor, and ax sich a question! How is ennything fotch 'bout 'cept

by sines an' awgrese, an' simbles, an' figurashuns, an' hiramgliptix,

and sich like vareus wase that the Creator works out his desine to man's

intimashun and expoundin'. Don't spose there's con-jurashun an' majestix

in the matter, for them's agin scrip-tur; but this much I do no--I never

sot up with a sick body, and heard a screech owl holler, or a dog howl,

or a scratchin' agin the waul, but what they dide; ef they did-dent

then, they did 'fore long, which pruves that the sine war true; Blessed

Master! what weke creetur's we is, sure en'uf! I reculleck when I lived

down to Bunkum County, North Carliny--Miss Dims, you node Miss Ply-ser,

what lived down to Zion Spring?”--(Miss Dims, being the noseless lady,

snuffled out that she did as well as one of her own children, as the

families were monstrous familiar, and seed a heap of one another).

“Well, Miss Ply-ser war takin awfil sick arter etin a bate of cold fride

collards--I alwase tole her cold fride collards warn't 'dapted to the

delicases of her constytushun, but the poor crittur war indoost to them,

and wuddent taik my device; an' it wood hav been a grate dele beter for

her ef she had, as the sekil wil pruve; poor creetur! ef she oanly had,

she mout bin a settin' here to-nite, fur her husband shortly arter, sed

ef sarkumstancis haddent altired his 'tarmynashun he didn't no but wat

he wood like to take a look at them Luzaanny botums, wair all you had to

do to clar the land, war to cut down all the trese and wate fur the next

overflow to wash them off; but pr'aps she wuddent nethur, for arter all

he dident cum, an' you no she cuddent kum 'cept with him 'ceptin' she

dun like Lizey Johnson's middle darter, Prin-sanna, who left her husband

in the state of Georgy, and kum to Luzaanny an' got marred to a nother

man, the pi sen varmint, to do sich as that and her own laful husband,

for I no that he borrerd a dollar of my sister Jane's sister to pay for

the license and eatables for the crowd--but Blessed Master, where is

I talking to!--well, as I sed, Miss Plyser made herself monstrous sick

etin cold fride collards; wen I got where she was they had sent for the

doctor, an' shortly arter I kum he cum, an' the fust thins; he axed fur

arter he got in the house war for a hanful of red-pepper pods--it war a

monstrous fine time for pepper and other gardin truck that sesun--an'

wen he got them he tuck a han-ful of lobely an' mixt the pepper-pods

with it an' then he poured hot bilin' water over it, and made a strong

decokshun. Jes as it was got reddy for 'ministering, but before it was

guv, I heered a screech owl holler on the gable end of the cabin. I sed

then as I say now, in the present case, that it war a sine and a

forerunner that she was gwine to die, but the doctor, in spite of my

'swadements, gin her a tin cup of the pepper and lobely' but I nude it

war no use--the screech owl had hollered, and she war called fur; an'

jes to think of a nice young 'ooman like her, with the purtiest pair of

twins in the world, and as much alike as two pese, only one had black

hare and lite ise, an' the other had black ise and lite hare--bein'

carrid to a grave by cold fride collards apeered a hard case, but the

Lord is the Heavens an' he nose! Well, the first dose that he gin her

didn't 'fect much, so he gin her another pint, an' then cummenst stemin'

her, when the pirspirashun began to kum out, she sunk rite down, an'

begun to siken awful; the cold fride collards began to kum up in gobs,

but Blessed Master! it war too late, the screech owl had hollered, an'

she flung up cold fride collards till she dide, pooer creetur! the Lord

be marsyful to her poor soul! But I sed from the fust she wood die.

Doctor, weed better see how Miss Jimsey is; it's no use to waste the

'Futifuge' on her, the screech owl has hollered, and she mus go though

all the doctors of a king war here; poor creetur! she has lived a long

time, an' I 'speck her Lord and Master wants her.”

And thus saying, the old lady preceded the way to the sick-room, myself

and the five other old women bringing up the rear.

Somewhat, I thought, to the disappointment of the superstitious dames,

we found the invalid still buried in a profound slumber, her regular,

placid breathing indicating that the proper functions of the system

were being restored. I softly felt her pulse, and it, too, showed

improvement. Leaving the room, we returned to the other cabin. I

informed the family that she was much better, and if she did not have a

return of the spasms by morning, and rested undisturbed in the meantime,

that she would get well. But I saw that superstition had too deep a hold

on their minds for my flattering opinion to receive their sanction. An

incredulous shake of the head was nearly my only reply, except from the

owl enthusiast.

“Doctor, you're mistaken, certin. The screech-owl has hollered, and she

is boun to die--it's a sure sign, and can't fail!”

I saw the uselessness of argument, and therefore did not attempt to show

them how ridiculous, nay irreligious, it was to entertain such notions,

willing that the termination of the case should be the reply.

It would require a ponderous tome to contain all that passed in

conversation during our vigils that night. Morning broke, and I went

softly in to see if my patient still slept. The noise I made in crossing

the rough floor aroused, and as I reached the bed-side, she half raised

herself up, and to my great delight accosted me in her perfect senses.

“I s'pose, young man, you're a doctor, aint you?”

I assured her that her surmise was correct, and pressed her to cease

talking and compose herself. She would not do it, however, but demanded

to see the medicine I was giving her. I produced the Arkansas Fitifuge,

and as it was near the time that she should take a dose, I poured one

out and gave it to her. Receiving it at first with evident disgust, with

great reluctance she forced herself to drink a small quantity. I saw

pleasure and surprise lighting up her countenance; she drank a little

more--looked at me--took another sip--and then, as if to test it by the

other senses, applied it to her nose, and shaking the glass applied it

to her ear; all the results were satisfactory, and she drank it to the

dregs without a murmur.

“Doctor,” said she, “ef you're a mineral fissishun, and this truck has

got calomy in it, you needn't be afeard of salavatin me, and stop givin'

it, for I wont git mad ef my gums is a leetle touched!”

I assured her that the “Fitifuge” was perfectly harmless.

“It's monstrus pleasant truck, ennyhow! What did you say was the name of

it?”

“Arkansas Fitifuge, madam, one of the best medicaments for spasmodic

diseases that I have ever used. You were in fits last night when I

arrived; but you see the medicine is effecting a cure, and you are now

out of danger, although extreme quietude is highly necessary.”

“Doctor, will you give me a leetle more of the truck? I declare, it's

monstrous pleasant. Doctor, I'm mity nar-vous, ginerally; don't you

think I'd better take it pretty often through the day? Ef they'd sent

for you sooner I woodent bin half as bad off. But, thank the Lord, you

has proved a kapable fissishun, sent to me in the hour of need, an' I

wont complane, but trust in a mersyful Saveyur!”

“How do you feel now, sister Jimsey? do you think you're looking up this

morning?” was now asked by the lady of screech-owl memory.

“Oh, sister Ripson, thank the Lord, I do feel a power better this

mornin', an' I think in the course of a day or two I will be able to get

about agen.”

“Well, mersyful Master, wonders will never stop! las nite I thot

sure you cuddent stand it till mornin, speshully arter I heerd

the screech-owl holler! 'tis a mirrykul, sure, or else this is the

wonderfulest doctor in creashun!”

“Did the screech-owl holler mor'n wunst, sister Ripson?”

“No, he only screached wunst! Ef he'd hollered the second time, I'd

defide all the doctors in the created wurld to 'ad cured you; the

thing would have bin unpossible!” Now as the aforesaid screech-owl

had actually screeched twice, I must have effected an impossibility

in making the cure; but I was unwilling to disturb the old lady in her

delusion, and therefore did not inform her of that, which she would have

heard herself, had she not been highly alarmed.

I directed the “Fitifuge” to be given at regular intervals through the

day; and then, amidst the blessings of the patient, the congratulations

of the family for the wonderful cure I had effected, and their

assurances of future patronage, took my departure for home, hearing, as

I left the house, the same old lady who had underrated me at my entrance

ejaculate, “Well, bless the Lord I didn't die last yere of the yaller

janders, or I'd never lived to see with my own eyes a doctor who could

cure a body arter the screech-owl hollered!”

THE MAN OF ARISTOCRATIC DISEASES.

|What a queer thing is pride! Pride, that busy devil that breaks off the

point of the lancet, and lets human nature die of the big-head before

common sense can bleed freely. Pride, that sticks a pretty foot in a

kid slipper in the dead of winter, and the owner shortly in the grave.

Pride, that keeps man from acknowledging his error, and makes him

a slayer of his kind, without being justified by a doctor's degree.

Pride--but enough of philosophy.

I have seen this trait of humanity illustrated in various ways,

according to the temperament, education, and habits of individuals,

and thought I knew something of the various workings of the foible; but

until I saw Major Subsequent, never did I know that man could find his

chief glory in the possession of loathsome and incurable afflictions.

But such is the fact, or rather was the fact, for the Major one day came

in contact with rather a familiar friend of mine, whose known liberality

is such that he never fails to give his visiters a fee simple to a small

plantation. Yes, the Major is no more! he died in my arms, or rather

a portion of him did; for my embrace, to have clasped the whole of his

frame, muscle, and fat, would have had to be as comprehensive as the

recipe for boiling water. Reader! in all probability you never knew him;

if twoscore has not been chalked up against you, I know you never did,

for I am now an old, bald-headed, wig-wearing Swamp Doctor, and he was

buried when my natural hair was long as a Yankee pedlar's remembrance of

a small debt due him. Major Billy Subsequent, F. F. Y. O. K. M. T. R. L.

M.

H. M. A. M. J. O. G. First Family Virginia, Olways Kritical, Major third

regiment Louisiana Militia. His mother a Miss Jones of Georgia. Hic

Jackson. Yes, here is the grave!

“Major Billy Subsequent, here are some friends of mine that wish an

introduction to you. Will you rise? You're sleepy! Ah, Billy, you're a

grave subject. But my readers are anxious to know you. Read, then, your

biography from your posthumous memoirs. You haven't got your nap out

yet?”

Reader, Billy won't rise, so I'll have to do as he directs, and call

upon your imagination to prepare him from the material I shall offer.

Major Billy Subsequent, to use rather an old witticism, was one of

the most classical men I ever knew. Byron must have had him in his

eye--rather a large one would have been required to hold him--when he

wrote his beautiful lyric, The iles of grease! the iles of grease! for

Billy was fat almost to fatuity; nature had set up in his inner man a

laboratory to convert everything that entered his mouth into adipose

or fatty corpuscles. He would have been a trump at euchre, for in an

emergency he could have been played as the right bower at clubs, to

which important personage he bore a striking resemblance. It would

have been impossible to have hung him, for he had no neck; his head was

rather too hard to have suspended him by, and I have yet to learn that

a man can be strangulated by tying the rope under his arms; so capital

execution was not applicable to him, except when fish, flesh, fowl, or

vegetables were to be devoured, and then his execution was capital. He

had heard when very young that he, like the balance of the human race,

possessed feet; but such was his abdominal rotundity grown to, that to

verify the fact by ocular demonstration, was a feat, to accomplish which

he would have failed in toto. When we beheld his hands, we were struck

with their resemblance to a pair of boiled hams, notched at the ends

sufficiently to correspond to fingers and thumbs. He never trusted but

one finger in the performance of friendship's manipulation, melancholy

experience having demonstrated that human friendship was grown too

weak to be intrusted with an entire hand. His face was coveted by every

politician in the land, being broad enough to smile upon all parties,

and look lovingly to all quarters of the Union at the same time. His

wind, like a doctor's visits of charity, was short, but not sweet, his

oesophagus being contracted, the proximity of his stomach being supposed

to affect it in this respect. Set him to walking, and his puff! puff!

sent every inland planter who had cotton to ship to the bayou directly.

Being the lineal descendant of a Scotch prince--who was hung as the

finale of an unsuccessful raid--and belonging to F. F. V., it is natural

to suppose that he shared in the modesty and personal humility that

distinguish his like favoured brethren; in fact, he rather externally

accomplished the thing, imitating them in every particular of common

glorification, and taking exclusive grounds in things that they never

dreamt of as forming subjects for self-gratulation. They referred to

tradition, genealogy, or other equally as creditable sources, to prove

their purity of blood and excellence of family; but Major Subsequent had

another test, which with him was indubitably decisive of the present and

past purity of his genealogical tree. Up to the time of my acquaintance

with him, his wife, children, and self, all were, and had been from

youth, in possession of various incurable and afflicting disorders,

but according to the Major's statement not one of them had ever had a

plebeian or unfashionable disease. This was the Major's chief source

of glory and honour. The blood of his family was so pure, that only

aristocratic diseases could make any morbific impression on their

susceptible systems.

He prided himself upon his Ciceronian wart and bluff Harry the Eighth

proportions; every twinge of the gout was a thrill of exquisite

pleasure, for only high living and pure blood could have the gout.

His eldest son had the King's Evil--the King's Evil, mind you! Major

Subsequent was one of those that believed that kings existed in a

perpetual atmosphere of delight, and that consequently the King's Evil

was only a play-synonyme for the king's pleasure, so his eldest born had

little of his sympathy. His youngest son was terribly humpbacked, but

this gave the Major no uneasiness, for were not Alexander and Richard

humpbacked kings? One of his daughters was an old maid, “but then,”

argued the Major, consoling his child under this terrible disease,

“Queen Elizabeth and Cleopatra died old maids, and why not you?” Another

had a perpetual leer upon her countenance, “but then,” quoth the Major,

turning to a volume of Shakspeare, “there was a king Lear, a kingly

precedent, Miss Subsequent; so don't talk of being operated upon for

strabismus.” His wife--but enough, you know the man. The Major was very

proud of his family, or rather of his family's diseases, cherishing them

in much the same spirit that Jenner, the father of vaccination, did his

experimental cow, for the scab upon her.

I became a great favourite with the Major, not that I was diseased in

any way, but on the contrary always enjoyed good health, but he said

that as I was one of the chivalry, he was certain if I ever got sick,

it would be a gentlemanly disease, and none of your d----n plebeian,

chill-and-fever, poor folks' affections.

I used to visit the Major's house often, for the purpose of studying his

character, and getting a good dinner; for the Major fed well, all but

horses, and they had to trust the chances of a stray nubbin falling

through the chinks of the stable loft. Taking good care of a horse

meant, with him, tying him to a fence, with nothing to eat but the

dead wood. Taking extraordinary care signified hitching him to a green

sapling, where he could have the privilege of gnawing the bark.

My open admiration of his character soon elevated me to the post of

family physician--nearly a sinecure--for the Major was afraid to take

medicine, not wishing to part with his hereditary honours.

One day, I had just finished my dinner at home, and had taken, cigar

in mouth, my usual seat beneath a favourite oak, to indulge in a fit

of meditation, when I saw the dust up the bayou road shaken up by

a half-naked negro, who, having no pockets in his shirt, and being

hat-less, holding a letter in his teeth, was urging his mule along at

the top of his speed. At a glance, I knew it was the Major's boy, or

rather mule, for no one in the settlement save him owned an animal, the

ribs of which could be counted at almost any distance.

They arrived; and first asking me for a chaw of tobacco, the negro

delivered the note, which, true to my surmise, was from the Major,

and written apparently under high excitement, requesting me to come up

immediately, as he apprehended something terrible had either happened,

or was going to occur.

My horse being ready saddled, in a short time I was at the Major's,

whom I found waddling up and down his long gallery, his path distinctly

marked by the huge drops of sweat that had fallen from his brow.

“Doctor, I am truly rejoiced at your arrival; my worst apprehensions

have been excited upon a subject, upon which the honour of my family

depends, and the firm fame of my ancestors.”

Thinking from his language there was a lady in the case, I told him

that marriage would cure all indiscretions, and muttered something

about accidents and the best of families. The Major understood only the

conclusion.

“Best of families!” repeated he. “Yes, doctor, not only of the best, but

the very best. I pride myself upon my blood. Mine is no upstart claim of

a thousand years or so, but, doctor, drawn from the very creation, and

transmitted in a stream of pure brilliancy down to me. But, doctor,

something has occurred to-day, I fear, which, if it be as my darkest and

gloomiest thoughts suggest, will prove my death, bring ruin and disgrace

upon my house, and extinguish the ancient torch of the Subsequents

like a farthing dip. I have looked over my list of ancestors, from the

creation up, and find to my ineffable horror not one of them ever died

with any but a noble and kingly disease. I know I have received the

stream in all its pristine purity--and oh, doctor, on your honour as a

man, on the awful sanctity of your calling, never reveal to mortal the

terrible disclosure I am about to make. Doctor Tensas, I fear my eldest

born has got--faugh! I sicken at the thought--the chill and fever! Oh,

Lord, terrible! awful! horrible! Is it not enough to madden a man,

to think, after having only noble diseases in his family, for twenty

thousand years at least, that a cursed, plebeian, vulgar disease, which

every negro and low poor man can have, should dare present itself in the

habitation of aristocratic and kingly affections. Doctor, if it be as I

fear, I shall go deranged! I shall die! I will disinherit the rascal!

He shall change his name! To think of gout, king's evil, humpback,

and their royal brethren, to attest my purity of blood, and then for

chi--faugh! it is too horrible to be true! Go, doctor, examine him.

Heaven grant my fears may be groundless, or I shall certainly die. I

cannot survive the disgrace.”

Going into the room where the patient lay, I examined him, and sure

enough chill and fever _was there_ in all its perfection.

Fearing the effect the revelation might have upon the Major, I attempted

a pious fraud, and blundered out something about its being a strange,

singular, and anomalous affection, not laid down in the books--never had

seen anything like it before. Certainly not chill and fever, though even

if it were--ha! ha!--it was still a disease, though debased very much

in modern times, I must confess, not to be looked on with coolness, as

James the Second and Oliver Cromwell were said to have died of it.

“Doctor Tensas, don't deceive me,” said the Major. I assured him that

I did not--that his son had not the chill and fever. I was not fully

assured of the nature of his disease, but he might rest easy, as far as

ague was concerned.

Reassured and comforted by my positive declaration and manner, the Major

heaved a deep sigh of relief, and asked me to stay all night. I would

have assented, but my old sorrel, remembering his well filled trough

at home, and fearing some such arrangement, put in an impatient and

positive nay, and I departed.

A day passed in quietude; but who knows what the morrow will bring

forth? I was summoned, in greater haste than before, to the Major's. On

reaching there, I found him writhing in pain, both bodily and mentally,

with a handful of buttons, and a couple of jaw-teeth with them, somewhat

decayed.

“Doctor Tensas,” he thundered out, “by the Eternal you deceived me. My

son had the chill and fever. He has it now! Now, sir, now! Look at these

buttons off and these teeth shaken out, and then tell me if the blood

of a line of noble ancestors is not defiled, and my family disgraced

forever?--my son have the chill and fever!” and a shudder ran over his

frame. “Chill and fever! Ha! ha! ha!” a fit of hysterical, demoniacal

laughter came over him. “Chill and fever! Ha! ha! ha!” gurgled, mixed

with the death-rattle from his throat. I looked in his face--and thus

died Major Billy Subsequent, F. F. V. &c., of a chill and fever his son

had!

THE INDEFATIGABLE BEAR-HUNTER.

|In my round of practice, I occasionally meet with men whose

peculiarities stamp them as belonging to a class composed only of

themselves. So different are they in appearance, habits, taste, from

the majority of mankind, that it is impossible to classify them, and you

have therefore to set them down as queer birds “of a feather,” that none

resemble sufficiently to associate with.

I had a patient once who was one of these queer ones; gigantic in

stature, uneducated, fearless of real danger, yet timorous as a child of

superstitious perils, born literally in the woods, never having been in

a city in his life, and his idea of one being that it was a place

where people met together to make whiskey, and form plans for swindling

country folks. To view him at one time, you would think him only a

whiskey-drinking, bear-fat-loving mortal; at other moments, he would

give vent to ideas, proving that beneath his rough exterior there ran a

fiery current of high enthusiastic ambition.

It is a favourite theory of mine, and one that I am fond of consoling

myself with, for my own insignificance, that there is no man born who

is not capable of attaining distinction, and no occupation that does

not contain a path leading to fame. To bide our time is all that is

necessary. I had expressed this view in the hearing of Mik-hoo-tah, for

so was the subject of this sketch called, and it seemed to chime in with

his feelings exactly. Born in the woods, and losing his parents early,

he had forgotten his real name, and the bent of his genius inclining him

to the slaying of bears, he had been given, even when a youth, the

name of Mik-hoo-tah, signifying “the grave of bears,” by his Indian

associates and admirers.

To glance in and around his cabin, you would have thought that the place

had been selected for ages past by the bear tribe to yield up their

spirits in, so numerous were the relics. Little chance, I ween, had the

cold air to whistle through that hut, so thickly was it tapestried with

the soft, downy hides, the darkness of the surface relieved occasionally

by the skin of a tender fawn, or the short-haired irascible panther.

From the joists depended bear-hams and tongues innumerable, and the

ground outside was literally white with bones. Ay, he was a bear-hunter,

in its most comprehensive sense--the chief of that vigorous band, whose

occupation is nearly gone--crushed beneath the advancing strides of

romance-destroying civilization. When his horn sounded--so tradition

ran--the bears began to draw lots to see who should die that day, for

painful experience had told them the uselessness of all endeavouring to

escape. The “Big Bear of Arkansas” would not have given him an hour's

extra work, or raised a fresh wrinkle on his already care-corrugated

brow. But, though almost daily imbruing his hands in the blood of Bruin,

Mik-hoo-tah had not become an impious or cruel-hearted man. Such was his

piety, that he never killed a bear without getting down on his knees--to

skin it--and praying to be d----ned if it warn't a buster; and such his

softness of heart, that he often wept, when he, by mistake, had killed

a suckling bear--depriving her poor offspring of a mother's care--and

found her too poor to be eaten. So indefatigable had he become in his

pursuit, that the bears bid fair to disappear from the face of the

swamp, and be known to posterity only through the one mentioned in

Scripture, that assisted Elisha to punish the impertinent children,

when an accident occurred to the hunter, which raised their hopes of not

being entirely exterminated.

One day, Mik happened to come unfortunately in contact with a stray

grizzly fellow, who, doubtless in the indulgence of an adventurous

spirit, had wandered away from the Rocky Mountains, and formed a league

for mutual protection with his black and more effeminate brethren of

the swamp. Mik saluted him, as he approached, with an ounce ball in the

forehead, to avenge half a dozen of his best dogs, who lay in fragments

around; the bullet flattened upon his impenetrable skull, merely

infuriating the monster; and before Mik could reload, it was upon him.

Seizing him by the leg, it bore him to the ground, and ground the limb

to atoms. But before it could attack a more vital part, the knife of

the dauntless hunter had cloven its heart, and it dropped dead upon the

bleeding form of its slayer, in which condition they were shortly found

by Mik's comrades. Making a litter of branches, they placed Mik upon it,

and proceeded with all haste to their camp, sending one of the company

by a near cut for me, as I was the nearest physician.

When I reached their temporary shelter I found Mik doing better than I

could have expected, with the exception of his wounded leg, and that,

from its crushed and mutilated condition, I saw would have to be

amputated immediately, of which I informed Mik. As I expected, he

opposed it vehemently; but I convinced him of the impossibility of

saving it, assuring him if it were not amputated, he would certainly

die, and appealed to his good sense to grant permission, which he did

at last. The next difficulty was to procure amputating instruments, the

rarity of surgical operations, and the generally slender purse of the

“Swamp Doctor,” not justifying him in purchasing expensive instruments.

A couple of bowie-knives, one ingeniously hacked and filed into a saw--a

tourniquet made of a belt and piece of stick--a gun-screw converted

for the time into a tenaculum--and some buckskin slips for ligatures,

completed my case of instruments for amputation. The city physician may

smile at this recital, but I assure him many a more difficult operation

than the amputation of a leg, has been performed by his humble brother

in the “swamp,” with far more simple means than those I have mentioned.

The preparations being completed, Mik refused to have his arms bound,

and commenced singing a bear song; and throughout the whole operation,

which was necessarily tedious, he never uttered a groan, or missed a

single stave. The next day, I had him conveyed by easy stages to his

pre-emption; and tending assiduously, in the course of a few weeks,

he had recovered sufficiently for me to cease attentions. I made him a

wooden leg, which answered a good purpose; and with a sigh of regret

for the spoiling of such a good hunter, I struck him from my list of

patients.

A few months passed over and I heard nothing more of him. Newer, but

not brighter, stars were in the ascendant, filling with their deeds

the clanging trump of bear-killing fame, and, but for the quantity of

bear-blankets in the neighbouring cabins, and the painful absence of

his usual present of bear-hams, Mik-hoo-tah bid fair to suffer that fate

most terrible to aspiring ambitionists--forgetfulness during life. The

sun, in despair at the stern necessity which compelled him to yield

up his tender offspring, day, to the gloomy grave of darkness, had

stretched forth his long arms, and, with the tenacity of a drowning

man clinging to a straw, had clutched the tender whispering straw-like

topmost branches of the trees--in other words it was near sunset--when

I arrived at home from a long wearisome semi-ride-and-swim through the

swamp. Receiving a negative to my inquiry whether there were any new

calls, I was felicitating myself upon a quiet night beside my tidy

bachelor hearth, undisturbed by crying children, babbling women, or

amorous cats--the usual accompaniments of married life--when, like a

poor henpecked Benedick crying for peace when there is no peace, I was

doomed to disappointment. Hearing the splash of a paddle in the bayou

running before the door, I turned my head towards the bank, and soon

beheld, first the tail of a coon, next his body, a human face, and,

the top of the bank being gained, a full-proportioned form clad in the

garments which, better than any printed label, wrote him down raftsman,

trapper, bear-hunter. He was a messenger from the indefatigable

bear-hunter, Mik-hoo-tah. Asking him what was the matter, as soon as he

could get the knots untied which two-thirds drunkenness had made in his

tongue, he informed me, to my sincere regret, that Mik went out that

morning on a bear-hunt, and in a fight with one had got his leg broke

all to flinders, if possible worse than the other, and that he wanted

me to come quickly. Getting into the canoe, which awaited me, I wrapped

myself in my blanket, and yielding to my fatigue, was soon fast asleep.

I did not awaken until the canoe striking against the bank, as it

landed at Mik's pre-emption, nearly threw me in the bayou, and entirely

succeeded with regard to my half-drunken paddler, who--like the sailor

who circumnavigated the world and then was drowned in a puddle-hole in

his own garden--had escaped all the perils of the tortuous bayou to be

pitched overboard when there was nothing to do but step out and tie

the dug-out. Assisting him out of the water, we proceeded to the house,

when, to my indignation, I learnt that the drunken messenger had given

me the long trip for nothing, Mik only wanting me to make him a new

wooden leg, the old one having been completely demolished that morning.

Relieving myself by a satisfactory oath, I would have returned that

night, but the distance was too great for one fatigued as I was, so I

had to content myself with such accommodations as Mik's cabin afforded,

which, to one blessed like myself with the happy faculty of ready

adaptation to circumstances, was not a very difficult task.

I was surprised to perceive the change in Mik's appearance. From nearly

a giant, he had wasted to a mere huge bony frame-work; the skin of

his face clung tightly to the bones, and showed nothing of those

laughter-moving features that were wont to adorn his visage; only his

eye remained unchanged, and it had lost none of its brilliancy--the

flint had lost none of its fire.

“What on earth is the matter with you, Mik? I have never seen any one

fall off so fast; you have wasted to a skeleton--surely you must have

the consumption.”

“Do you think so, Doc? I'll soon show you whether the old bellows has

lost any of its force!” and hopping to the door, which he threw wide

open, he gave a death-hug rally to his dogs, in such a loud and piercing

tone, that I imagined a steam whistle was being discharged in my ear,

and for several moments could hear nothing distinctly.

“That will do! stop!” I yelled, as I saw Mik drawing in his breath

preparatory to another effort of his vocal strength; “I am satisfied you

have not got consumption; but what has wasted you so, Mik? Surely, you

ain't in love?”

“Love! h--ll! you don't suppose, Doc, even if I was 'tarmined to make

a cussed fool of myself, that there is any gal in the swamp that could

stand that hug, do you?” and catching up a huge bull-dog, who lay

basking himself by the fire, he gave him such a squeeze that the animal

yelled with pain, and for a few moments appeared dead. “No, Doc, it's

grief, pure sorrur, sor-rur, Doc! when I looks at what I is now and what

I used to be! Jes think, Doc, of the fust hunter in the swamp having his

sport spilte, like bar-meat in summer without salt! Jes think of a

man standin' up one day and blessing old Master for having put bar

in creation, and the next cussing high heaven and low h--ll 'cause he

couldn't 'sist in puttin' them out! Warn't it enough to bring tears to

the eyes of an Injun tater, much less take the fat off a bar-hunter?

Doc, I fell off like 'simmons arter frost, and folks as doubted me,

needn't had asked whether I war 'ceitful or not, for they could have

seed plum threw me! The bar and painter got so saucy that they'd cum to

the tother side of the bayou and see which could talk the impudentest!

'Don't you want some bar-meat or painter blanket?' they'd ask; 'bars

is monstrous fat, and painter's hide is mighty warm!' Oh! Doc, I was a

miserable man! The sky warn't blue for me, the sun war always cloudy,

and the shade-trees gin no shade for me. Even the dogs forgot me, and

the little children quit coming and asking, 'Please, Mr. Bar-Grave,

cotch me a young bar or a painter kitten.' Doc, the tears would cum in

my eyes and the hot blood would cum biling up from my heart, when I'd

hobble out of a sundown and hear the boys tell, as they went by, of the

sport they'd had that day, and how the bar fit 'fore he was killed, and

how fat he war arter he was slayed. Long arter they was gone, and the

whip-poor-will had eat up their voices, I would sit out there on the old

stump, and think of the things that used to hold the biggest place in my

mind when I was a boy, and p'raps sense I've bin a man.

“I'd heard tell of distinction and fame, and people's names never dying,

and how Washington and Franklin, and Clay and Jackson, and a heap

of political dicshunary-folks, would live when their big hearts had

crumbled down to a rifle-charge of dust; and I begun, too, to think,

Doc, what a pleasant thing it would be to know folks a million years

off would talk of me like them, and it made me 'tarmine to 'stinguish

myself, and have my name put in a book with a yaller kiver. I warn't

a genus, Doc, I nude that, nor I warn't dicshunary; so I detarmined to

strike out in a new track for glory, and 'title myself to be called

the 'bear-hunter of Ameriky.' Doc, my heart jumpt up, and I belted my

hunting-shirt tighter for fear it would lepe out when I fust spoke them

words out loud.

“'The bar-hunter of Ameriky!' Doc, you know whether I war ernin' the

name when I war ruined. There is not a child, white, black, Injun, or

nigger, from the Arkansas line to Trinity, but what has heard of me, and

I were happy when”--here a tremor of his voice and a tear glistening in

the glare of the fire told the old fellow's emotion--“when--I take

a drink--Doc, I found I was dying--I war gettin' weaker and weaker--I

nude your truck warn't what I needed, or I'd sent for you. A bar-hunt

war the medsin that my systum required, a fust class bar-hunt, the

music of the dogs, the fellers a screaming, the cane poppin', the rifles

crackin', the bar growlin', the fight hand to hand, slap goes his paw,

and a dog's hide hangs on one cane and his body on another, the knife

glistenin' and then goin' plump up to the handle in his heart!--Oh!

Doc, this was what I needed, and I swore, since death were huggin' me,

anyhow, I mite as well feel his last grip in a bar-hunt.

“I seed the boys goin' long one day, and haled them to wait awhile, as I

believed I would go along too. I war frade if I kept out of a hunt much

longer I wood get outen practis. They laughed at me, thinkin' I war

jokin'; for wat cood a sick, old, one-legged man do in a bar-hunt? how

cood he get threw the swamp, and vines, and canes, and backwater? and

s'pose he mist the bar, how war he to get outen the way?

“But I war 'tarmined on goin'; my dander was up, and I swore I wood

go, tellin' them if I coodent travel 'bout much, I could take a stand.

Seein' it war no use tryin' to 'swade me, they saddled my poney, and off

we started.

“I felt better right off. I knew I cuddent do much in the chase, so I

told the fellers I would go to the cross-path stand, and wate for the

bar, as he would be sarten to cum by thar. You have never seed the

cross-path stand, Doc. It's the singularest place in the swamp. It's

rite in the middle of a canebrake, thicker than har oil a bar-hide, down

in a deep sink, that looks like the devil had cummenst diggin' a skylite

for his pre-emption. I knew it war a dangersome place for a well man

to go in, much less a one-leg cripple; but I war 'tarmined that time to

give a deal on the dead wood, and play my hand out. The boys gin me

time to get to the stand, and then cummenst the drive. The bar seemed

'tarmined on disappinting me, for the fust thing I heard of the dogs and

bar, they was outen hearing. Everything got quiet, and I got so wrathy

at not being able to foller up the chase, that I cust till the trees

cummenst shedding their leaves and small branches, when I herd them

lumbrin back, and I nude they war makin' to me. I primed old 'bar death'

fresh, and rubbed the frizin, for it war no time for rifle to get to

snappin'. Thinks I, if I happen to miss, I'll try what virtue there is

in a knife--when, Doc, my knife war gone. H--ll! bar, for God's sake

have a soft head, and die easy, for I _can't_ run!

“Doc, you've hearn a bar bustin' threw a cane-brake, and know how near

to a harrycane it is. I almost cummenst dodgin' the trees, thinkin' it

war the best in the shop one a comin', for it beat the loudest thunder

ever I heard; that ole bar did, comin' to get his death from an ole,

one-legged cripple, what had slayed more of his brethren than his nigger

foot had ever made trax in the mud. Doc, he heerd a _monstrus long ways

ahead of the dogs_. I warn't skeered, but I must own, as I had but one

shot, an' no knife, I wud have prefurd they had been closer. But here

he cum! he bar--big as a bull--boys off h--ll-wards--dogs nowhar--no

knife--but one shot--_and only one leg that cood run!_

“The bar 'peered s'prised to see me standin' ready for him in the

openin'; for it war currently reported 'mong his brethren that I war

either dead, or no use for bar. I thought fust he war skeered; and, Doc,

I b'leve he war, till he cotch a sight of my wooden leg, and that toch

his pride, for he knew he would be hist outen every she bear's company,

ef he run from a poor, sickly, one-legged cripple, so on he cum, a small

river of slobber pourin from his mouth, and the blue smoke curlin outen

his ears. I tuck good aim at his left, and let drive. The ball struck

him on the eyebrow, and glanced off, only stunnin' him for a moment,

jes givin' me time to club my rifle, an' on he kum, as fierce as old

grizzly. As he got in reach, I gin him a lick 'cross the temples,

brakin' the stock in fifty pieces, an' knockin' him senseless. I struv

to foller up the lick, when, Doc, I war fast--my timber toe had run

inter the ground, and I cuddent git out, though I jerked hard enuf

almost to bring my thigh out of joint. I stuped to unscrew the infurnal

thing, when the bar cum too, and cum at me agen. Vim! I tuck him

over the head, and, cochunk, he keeled over. H-ll! but I cavorted and

pitched. Thar war my wust enemy, watin' for me to giv him a finisher,

an' _I cuddent_ git at him. I'd cummense unscrewin' leg--here cum

bar--vim--cochunk--he'd fall out of reach--and, Doc, _I cuddent git to

him_. I kept work-in' my body round, so as to unscrew the leg, and keep

the bar off till I cood 'complish it, when jes as I tuck the last turn,

and got loose from the d------d thing, here cum bar, more venimous than

ever, and I nude thar war death to one, out, and comin' shortly. I let

him get close, an' then cum down with a perfect tornado on his head,

as I thought; but the old villin had learnt the dodge--the bar-rel jes

struck him on the side of the head, and glanst off, slinging itself out

of my hands bout twenty feet 'mongst the thick cane, and thar I war in

a fix sure. Bar but little hurt--no gun--no knife--no dogs--no frens--no

chance to climb--an' _only one leg that cood run_. Doc, I jes cummenst

makin' 'pologies to ole Master, when an idee struck me. Doc, did you

ever see a piney woods nigger pullin at a sassafras root? or a suckin'

pig in a tater patch arter the big yams? You has! Well, you can 'magin

how I jarkt at that wudden leg, for it war the last of pea-time with me,

sure, if I didn't rise 'fore bar did. At last, they both cum up, bout

the same time, and I braced myself for a death struggle.

“We fit all round that holler! Fust I'd foller bar, and then bar would

chase me! I'd make a lick, he'd fend off, and showin' a set of teeth

that no doctor, 'cept natur, had ever wurkt at, cum tearin' at me! We

both 'gan to git tired, I heard the boys and dogs cumin', so did bar,

and we were both anxshus to bring the thing to a close 'fore they cum

up, though I wuddent thought they were intrudin' ef they had cum up some

time afore.

[Illustration: frontispiece2]

“I'd worn the old leg pretty well off to the second jint, when, jest

'fore I made a lick, the noise of the boys and the dogs cummin' sorter

confused bar, and he made a stumble, and bein' off his guard I got a

fair lick! The way that bar's flesh giv in to the soft impresshuns of

that leg war an honor to the mederkal perfeshun for having invented sich

a weepun! I hollered--but you have heered me holler an' I won't describe

it--I had whipped a bar in a fair hand to hand fight--me, an old sickly

one-legged bar-hunter! The boys cum up, and, when they seed the

ground we had fit over, they swore they would hav thought, 'stead of

a bar-fight, that I had been cuttin' cane and deadenin' timber for a

corn-patch, the sile war so worked up, they then handed me a knife to

finish the work.

“Doc, les licker, it's a dry talk--when will you make me another leg?

for bar-meat is not over plenty in the cabin, and I feel like tryin'

another!”

LOVE IN A GARDEN.

|In the whole range of human attributes there are not two more

antagonistical qualities than courage and cowardice; yet, how frequently

we find them existing in the same person, ensconced under the same

coat of skin! In the form that contains a spirit that would face with

un-blenching eye the fiercest peril of man's existence, we will often

discover a timorous sprite, who hems and hesitates, and falters and

trembles, at an enemy no more formidable than a pair of soft blue eyes,

pouring their streams of liquid subduing tenderness, or else a brace of

piercing black orbits, which, like the fire of the ancient Greeks, burn

the fiercer for the water which love pours over them, in the shape of

tears.

And, odd as it may seem, this discordant association of heroism and

timidity is not found in weak effeminate nervous men, but in those whose

almost gigantic proportions, eagle eye, and dauntless bearing convey any

idea but that there is stuff for trembling in their stalwart frames. But

they are the ones who generally manifest the greatest cowardice--place

them before a battery of girls' eyes, and it proves literally a

galvanic battery, shocking them to such a degree that they usually do

something they never intended, and say things that they never meant. Let

one of these animals be in love, and what a mess he generally makes of

the affair! Did you ever know one to “pop the question” in a respectable

civilized manner?--That is, if he ever exalted his courage sufficiently

to get that near to matrimony. My word for it--never. No suit for breach

of promise could be ever brought against one of them--for such is the

non-committalism of their incoherency, that no woman, on her oath, could

avow, even were they _conjugated_ at the time, that he ever asked her

to marry him; the intuitive feeling of her sex alone enabled her to draw

the idea that he was addressing her, from the mass of his discordant,

incoherent, lingual ramblings, when the question was being popped.

This philosophizing is intended as a preface or premonitory symptom of a

story, illustrative of the trait; which, like measles, when repelled

by cold air, has struck in upon my memory, and which, carrying out the

idea, requires, like the aforesaid measles, to be brought to the surface

in order that I may feel relieved.

Among the many acquaintances that my profession enabled me to make in

the swamp, no one afforded me more pleasure than Jerry Wilson, the son

of a small planter resident some few miles from my _shingle_. There

was something so manly and frank in his bearing that our feelings were

irresistibly attracted towards him. In my case it proved to be mutual:

he seemed to take the same interest in me, and we soon became bosom

friends. A severe attack of congestive fever that I carried him through

successfully, riveted him to me for ever; and Jerry, upon all and

every occasion, stood ready to take up the gauntlet in my defence, as

willingly as in his own. Being very popular in the neighbourhood, he

became of great assistance to me, by advocating my cause, and extending,

by his favourable representations, my circle of practice.

The plantation adjoining Jerry's father's was possessed by an old,

broken-down Virginian, who, having dissipated one fortune in conforming

to the requirements of fashionable life, had come into the swamp,

to endure its many privations, in order that he might recruit his

impoverished finances.

Adversity, or something better, had taught him the folly of the

prominent foible of the Virginian--insane state pride, and consequent

individual importance. His mind was prepared to test men by the proper

criterion--merit, without regard to the adventitious circumstances of

birth, wealth, or nativity.

Major Smith deserves the meed, I believe, for being the first one of the

race to acknowledge that he was not an F. F.; which confession, showing

his integrity of character, proved to me that he really was one of the

very first of the land. But, in describing the father, I am neglecting

by far the most interesting, if not the most important character of the

story--his daughter--a sweet blooming girl of seventeen, at the time of

which I write. Ah! she was the bright exemplar of her sex! Look in

her eye--so luminous, yet so tender, and far down in its dreamy still

waters, you could see the gems of purity and feeling glimmering; listen

to her voice--and never yet forest bird, on the topmost leafy bough,

gave forth such a gush of melody, as when it rose and melted away in

a laugh; her modesty and timidity--you have seen the wild fawn, when,

pausing on the brink of some placid lake, it sees its beautiful image

reflected in the waters--thus shrank she, as if into herself, when voice

of love, or praise, or admiration stole into her ears--and yet, with all

her maidenly reserve and timidity, she loved and was beloved. Knowing

that I am a bachelor, think not, in this recital, that my swelling heart

is tearing open anew wounds which time and philosophy have just enabled

me to heal. No! my fair friend--for friend she was, and is--never

kindled in my heart the flames of love, or heard aught of the soft

impeachment from me; for, long before I had seen her, the “Swamp Doctor”

had wedded his books and calling--rather a frigid bride, but not an

unprolific one, and her yearly increase, instead of bringing lines

of anxiety to my brow, smooths the wrinkles that care and deep

thought--certainly it cannot be age--Lord! Lord! I have broken my wig

spring--have dropped upon my visage!

My friend Jerry was the favoured mortal, and, without doubt, in an equal

intensity reciprocated her love; but cowardice had hitherto prevented

an avowal upon his part, and the two lovers, therefore, dwelt in a

delicious state of uncertainty and suspense. No one, to know Jerry, as

the majority of men--going through the world with their noses either too

elevated or too depressed for observation--know their kind, would have

thought him a coward: but I knew, that, as respected women, a more

arrant poltroon did not exist. He would have met any peril that

resolution, strength, or a contempt for life could overcome, without

fear of the consequences or the least tremor; and yet he dared not for

his life tell a pretty girl “that he loved her, and would be highly

pleased, and sorter tickled, too, if she would marry him.” There was

something more terrible in the idea of such an avowal, than fighting

bears, hugging Indians, or strangling panthers.

The poor girl, with the intuitive perception of her sex, had long

perceived that Jerry loved her as ardently as if the avowal on his part

had already been made. Almost daily she saw him, eagerly she awaited a

declaration, but poor Jerry never could get his courage to the sticking

point; like Bob Acres, it would ooze out at his fingers' points, in

spite of himself and his determination to bring things to the condition

of a fixed fact.

Matters were in this state when I became fully acquainted with them; she

was willing, he was willing, and yet, if they kept on in the way they

were pursuing, they both bid fair to remain in single blessedness for a

long time to come. Deeply interested in the welfare of both parties,

I thought I could not manifest my sympathy better than by kindly

intervening and producing that crisis which I knew would accord with the

feelings of both.

A slight attack of fever of the lady's, not requiring medical aid, but

which a father's fears magnified, and would not be allayed until I had

been sent for, introduced me fully to the confidence of the daughter;

and a trite experiment, which I tried upon her, convinced me that all

that my friend Jerry had to do was to ask, and it would be given.

Holding my fair patient's hand, which, resting in mine, looked like

a pearl in a setting of jet, I placed my fingers upon her pulse, and,

whilst pretending to number it, accidentally, as it were, mentioned

Jerry's name--the sudden thrill that pervaded the artery assured me that

she loved--lifting my eyes to her face, I gave her an expressive look,

which suffused her beauteous countenance, as if she was passing into the

second stage of scarlet fever.

My next duty was to seek Jerry. I found him seated on a log, under a

shady willow by the edge of the bayou, pole in hand, assuming to be

angling. The tense state of his line, and an occasional quiver of the

pole, indicated that a fish was hooked. Passing unnoticed by him,

a stranger would have come to one of three conclusions: that he was

deranged, in love, or a born fool.

Walking up to him briskly, without his hearing me, although I made

considerable noise getting down the bank, I slapped him on the shoulder

to engage his attention, and, as I had several patients to visit, and

time was precious, without waiting for the usual salutations of the day.

commenced my address in a real quarter race manner:--

“Jerry, for a sensible man, and a fellow of courage, you are the

d----dest fool and coward unhung. You love a girl--the girl loves you.

You know that the old people are willing, and that the girl is only

waiting for you to pop the question, to say 'Yes!' and yet, instead

of having the thing over, like white folks, and becoming the head of a

respectable family, here you sit, like a knot on a tree, with the moss

commencing to grow on your back, pretending to be fishing, and yet not

knowing that a big cat is almost breaking your line to shivers.

“Now I want to do you a service, and you must take my advice. Jerk that

fish out, take the hook out of his mouth, and then put him back in the

bayou--perhaps his sweetheart was waiting for him when he got hung; and

as you are in a like predicament, you should be able to say to the gal,

'That mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me!' Go home, put on a

clean shirt, shave that hair off your face and upper lip; for a sensible

woman never yet accepted a man, with nothing but the tip of his nose

visible from its wilderness of hair. Dress yourself decently, go up to

old Smith's, wait till you get rested, then ask the girl to take a walk

in the garden--gardens are a h--ll of a place to make love in--to look

at the flowers, to eat radishes, to pluck grapes--anything for an excuse

to get her there--and when you have got her under the arbour, don't fall

on your knees, or any of your fool novel notions, but stand straight up

before her, take both of her hands in yours, look her dead in the eyes,

and ask her, in a bold, manly way--as if you were pricing pork--to marry

you. Will you do it? Speak quick! I'm interested in the matter, for if

you don't do it to-day, by the Lord, I will, for myself, to morrow. I

have held off for you long enough; and if you don't bring matters to

a close, as I say, in the next twenty-four hours, as cold weather

is coming on, I'll try my hand myself in the courting line--you know

doctors are the very devil amongst the women!”

This method of address alarmed Jerry, and he promised he would do as I

directed.

Accompanying him home, I saw him fairly dressed, and then left him, as

the demands of my patients were urgent.

Jerry mounted his steed, and set off at a brisk canter for Major

Smith's. It was only a mile and a half, and would have been travelled in

a quarter of an hour, had the steed kept his' gait. But, somehow, as

the distance shortened, the canter ceased, and a pace superseded it; the

last half, his rate had moderated to a walk; and when he made the last

turn in the road, his horse was browsing the grass and cane. Up to the

last few hundred yards, Jerry was as brave as a panther with cubs,

and determined on following out my prescription to the letter; but the

moment the house, with its white chimneys, commenced appearing round

the bend of the bayou, the white pin feathers began to peep out in

his heart, and verily, nothing, I believe, but my threat, if he proved

recreant to-day, of courting her myself on the morrow, kept him from

giving up the chase, and retracing his steps home.

But the house was reached, and the hearty voice of the Major, bidding

him alight, cut off all retreat. He was fairly in it.

Jerry got down, left the yard gate carefully open behind him, led

his horse up the Major's fine grass-walk to the steps, and was about

bringing him with him into the house, when a servant relieved him of

the task by carrying the steed to the stable. Not noticing the air of

astonishment with which the old Major was regarding him, he shook hands

with the negro for Major Smith, and bowing to a large yellow water-jar,

addressed it as “Miss Mary,” and then finished the performances by

sitting down in a large basket of eggs; the sudden yielding of his seat,

and the laughter of both father and daughter, aroused him to a full

consciousness of how ridiculously he was acting. His apologies and

explanations only served to render bad worse, and he therefore wisely

determined to take a chair and say nothing more. Dinner was shortly

announced, and this he concluded in very respectable style, without

making any more serious mistake than eating cabbage with a spoon, or

helping the lady to the drum-stick of the chicken. A cigar was smoked

after dinner, and then the old Major, giving a shrewd guess how the land

lay, declared that he must take his afternoon nap, and retired, leaving

the field to Jerry and the daughter. “Now or never,” was the motto with

Jerry.

The old Major, in addition to planting cotton, and retrieving a

dissipated fortune, was a great dabbler in horticulture, and had

bestowed great attention upon the cultivation of the grape. By much

care and grafting, he had so improved upon the common varieties of the

country as to render them but slightly inferior to the choicest foreign

specimens. An extensive arbour was in the middle of the garden--the

finest and most extensive in the swamp--and this was literally covered

with the ruddy clusters of grapes, now in the fullest tide of ripeness.

“Now or never,” I say, was the word with Jerry. Making a desperate

effort, he faltered out, “Miss Mary, your father has a very fine garden!

shall we go look at the grapes? I am very fond of them, Miss Mary! do

you like grapes, Miss Mary? Ha! ha!”--the cold sweat bursting out from

every pore.

“Very much, Mr. Wilson, and pa's are really very fine, considering that

they have not the quality of being exotics to recommend them to our

taste. I will accompany you to taste them with much pleasure,” replied

Miss Mary; and tripping into the house, soon appeared, with the sweetest

little sun-bonnet on, that witching damsel ever wore.

Jerry, frightened nearly to death at the awful propinquity of the

“question popping,” could scarcely stand, for his agitation; and poor

Miss Mary, apprehending from Jerry's manner that the garden was destined

to become the recipient of some awfully horrible avowal--perhaps Jerry

had murdered somebody, and his conscience was forcing him to

disclose; or he had discovered that an insurrection of the negroes was

contemplated; or--surely he was not going to make a declaration--oh,

no! she knew it was not anything of that kind--began to participate in

Jerry's embarrassment and trepidation. More like criminals proceeding

to execution, than young people going to pluck grapes, they sought the

garden; the gate was closed behind them, and in a few moments more they

stood under the arbour.

The grapes were hanging down upon all sides in the greatest profusion;

and, twining their purple masses together, seemingly cried out, “Come

eat us!”

Jerry was the very picture of terror. Oh! how he wished that he was safe

at home! But it was too late to retreat--he could only procrastinate.

But still, men had gone as far as walking in a secluded garden with

a lady, and then died old bachelors. But then that infernal doctor

to-morrow--the die was cast, he would go on. The question was, how

should he approach the subject, so as not to destroy life in the young

lady, when the dreadful business of his visit was announced? He must

prepare her for it gradually--the grapes offered an introductory--the

impolite fellow, not to offer her any during the long time they had been

in the arbour--they had just a second before reached it.

Plucking off a large bunch, he handed them to her, and selected a

similar one for himself. They were devoured in silence, Jerry too badly

frightened to speak, and Mary wondering what in the world was to come

next. The grapes were consumed, another pair of bunches selected, and

the sound of their champing jaws was all that broke the stillness.

Jerry's eyes were fixed on his bunch, and Mary was watching the motions

of an agile snail. The cluster was in process of disappearance, when

Jerry, summoning his whole energies, commenced his declamation: “Miss

Mary, I have something to impart”--here he came to a full stop, and

looked up, as if to draw inspiration from heaven; but the umbrageous

foliage intercepted his view, and only the grapes met his eye--and their

juice requires to be gone through with several processes, before much

exhilaration or eloquence can be drawn from it. Plucking a quantity, he

swallowed them, to relieve his throat, which was becoming strangely dry

and harsh.

Miss Mary, poor girl, was sitting there, very much confused, busily

eating grapes; neither she nor Jerry knew, whilst continuing to eat, the

quantity that they had consumed: their thoughts were elsewhere.

“Miss Mary,” again upspoke Jerry, “you must have seen long before

this--but la! your bunch is eaten--have some more grapes, Miss Mary? I

like them very much”--and amidst much snubbling and champing, another

package of grapes was warehoused by the lovers.

Jerry's fix was becoming desperate; time was flying rapidly, and he

knew one subject would soon be exhausted, for he could eat but few more

grapes. Oh! how he wished that fighting a panther, fist-fight, had

been made one of the conventialities of society, and assumed to

be declaratory of the soft passion! how quickly would his bride be

wooed!--but those infernal words! he could never arrange them so as to

express what he meant. “Miss Mary, you must know that I saw Dr. Tensas,

to-day, he told me--have some more, Miss Mary, they won't hurt you. I

have come expressly to ask you--have another bunch, let me insist. I

have come, Miss Mary, to propose--another small bunch”--“Mary, I have

come,” he almost shrieked, “to ask you to have--only a few more--Oh!

Lord!” and he wiped the cold sweat off. Poor fellow! his pluck would not

hold out.

Mary, frightened at his vehemence, said nothing, but eat on

mechanically, anxious to hear what it was that Jerry wished to disclose.

Again he marshalled his forces: the sun was declining in the west, and

the morrow would, perhaps, see the “Swamp Doctor,” with his glib tongue,

breathing his vows--“Miss Mary, I--I love--grapes--no, you--grapes--will

you have me--some grapes--marry me--no grapes--yes, me! Oh! Lord! it is

all over! You will--bless you--I must have a kiss. You haven't consented

yet--but you must!” The barrier seemed to drop, the spell was lifted

off his tongue, and Jerry, in a stream of native eloquence, running

the fiercer for being so long pent up, plead his cause; could it be

unsuccessful? Oh! no! Mary had made up her mind long ago.

Side by side, now, all their diffidence vanished; they sat under the

blessed arbour, and discoursed of their past fears, and bright hopes for

the future! Jerry held the head of his mistress on his leal and noble

breast, and, as in a sweet and pure strain he pictured forth the quiet

domestic life they were to lead when married, Mary could scarcely

believe that the impudent fellow who now talked so glibly, and stole, in

spite of her rebukes, kisses unnumbered, was the timid nervous swain of

a few minutes before.

But lo! behold what a sudden transformation! Has Jerry struck some

discordant note in his sweet melody of the future--for Mary's features

are contracted, as if with pain, and her pretty face, in spite of

herself, wears a vinegar aspect. Rather early, I opine, for ladies to

commence the shrew--if I am wrong, lady reader, attribute the error to

the ignorance of an old bachelor. Jerry, too, seems to partake of the

sour contagion--he stamps upon the ground, writhes his body about, and

presses his hand upon his stomach, ignorant, I presume, of anatomy.

He meant to lay them over his heart, poor fellow! he got too Jow down.

Mary, too, is evincing the ardency of her affection; and with the same

deplorable ignorance of the locality of the organs. Verily, love is

affecting them, singularly. It may be a pleasant passion, but that

couple, who certainly have a fresh, I will not say genuine, article

of lo\e, look like anything but happy accepted lovers. What can be

the matter? They have just read an extract from one of Cowper's

bu-_colics_--but can poetry produce such an effect? They groan, and

writhe their bodies about, and would press their hearts, if they only

lay where their digestive apparatus certainly does. Can the grapes have

anything to do with their queer contortions? “Heavens!” Jerry cries,

as a horrid suspicion flashes over his mind, “The cholera! The cholera!

Dearest, we will die together, locked in each other's arms!” and Jerry

sought to embrace his lady love; but she was _scrouched up_, I believe

the ladies term it, and as lie had assumed the same globular position,

approximation could not be effected, and death had acquired another

pang, from their having to meet him separate.

Fortunately for them, the Major had got his sleep out some hours before,

and, becoming anxious at their prolonged stay, set out to seek them. As

the garden was a quiet, secluded place, he thought them most likely to

be there, and there he found them, labouring under the influence, not so

much of love as--the truth must out--an overdose of grapes: and you know

how they affect the system.

A boy was despatched post haste after me. Fortunately I was at home,

and quickly reached the spot. I reached the house, and was introduced

immediately to the apartment where both the patients lay. A glance at

their condition and position explained the cause fully of their disease.

A hearty emetic effected a cure; and the first child of Jerry and

Mary Wilson was distinctly marked on the left shoulder with a bunch of

grapes.

HOW TO CURE FITS.

|Not none of the least difficult problems, in the practice of medicine,

is the distinguishing between cases of real disease, and those that

are feigned. It is a great stumbling block in the path of young

practitioners, and even the old members of the fraternity find a few

chips of it in their way occasionally. To such a degree may the art

of dissimulation be carried, that nothing but the eye of suspicion and

blind presentiment will lead us to detect the imposition. I have known a

case of simulated disease, after deceiving some of the first physicians

in the South, and withstanding almost every species of treatment, to

be cured by an energetic, liberal administration of the negro-whip. But

this is a remedy that fearful humanity will not allow us to use, and

consequently I never resort to it, but use equally as effective, but

uninjurious means.

Shortly after I commenced practice, I was sent for in a great hurry

to see a case of fits in the person of a negro wench, belonging to a

plantation a few miles from where I was located. The fit was over when

I reached the place, and I found the patient resting very composedly and

showing no evidence of present or past disease; but the testimony of her

master went to show that she had had one of the worst fits he had ever

seen, and he ought to know something about fits, as he had lived several

years in Arkansas, where the doctors invariably throw every case into

fits as preliminary to a cure.

I made a prescription suitable to his description, and returned home,

only to be sent for in greater haste the next day, and so on every

day for a week, the fits seeming to increase in intensity under my

treatment. I remarked, as a peculiarity of her case, that on Sundays,

and when rain prevented her being put out to work, she escaped

the attack; but hardly could the hoe-handle salute her palm in the

cotton-field, before she would be screeching, yelping, and struggling

like a friend of mine, who, camping out, made his pillow of a fallen,

but still tenanted hornets' nest.

I became desperate; the owner was becoming tired of sending for me,

and my reputation was suffering, for the patient was getting worse.

I examined her again thoroughly, but nothing could I find in her

digestive, arterial, nervous, muscular, or osseous systems, to indicate

disease. I shaved all the wool off her head to feel for depressed

skull-bones, and commencing the Materia Medica at Acetic Acid,

administered through to Zingiber, concluding the course by knocking her

senseless with a galvanic battery; but she stood fits, treatment, and

everything else without change, and not till a strong impression rested

on my mind that she was feigning, did a different course of treatment

suggest itself to me. The plantation lay on both sides of a deep bayou,

the link of connexion a high wooden bridge. I happened in one day at

the house, when I perceived four negroes approaching the bridge from the

opposite field, bearing some object in a blanket.

Finding, on inquiry, that my patient had that morning started to work

in that part of the plantation, I readily surmised that the blanket

aforesaid contained my case of fits.

Asking the overseer to accompany me, we advanced to meet the negroes,

who seemed to have great difficulty in keeping the object in the

blanket; we met them just as they reached the centre of the bridge, the

water under neath being some eight or ten feet deep.

“Who have you got there?” I asked.

“Hannah, sir, has got another of her fits,” replied one of the negroes.

“Put her down on the bridge and let me examine her.” It was done; it

required the united strength of the four negroes to hold her still

whilst I made the necessary examination, the result of which confirmed

my impression that she was simulating. I thundered almost in her ears,

but she gave no answer, and I determined to put in execution my new plan

of treatment.

“Pick her up and throw her in the bayou,” I said, very clearly and

precisely.

Knowing I rarely said what I did not mean, the negroes yet hesitated

somewhat at the singular command, afraid either to obey or refuse.

“Throw her in!” I yelled, giving a thundering stamp on the bridge.

No longer in doubt, the negroes picked up the blanket, and giving it a

few preliminary swings, to acquire momentum, were about to cast away,

when, with a loud yell, the case of fits burst from their hold and

made tracks for the cotton-field. I am pretty fleet myself, as were

the negroes, but that _poor diseased invalid_ beat us all, and had hoed

considerably on a row before we reached her. A liberal flagellation

completed the cure, and she has never been troubled with fits since!

A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.

|It was the spring of 183-, the water from the Mississippi had commenced

overflowing the low swamps, and rendering travelling on horseback very

disagreeable. The water had got to that troublesome height, when it was

rather too high for a horse, and not high enough for a canoe or skiff to

pass easily over the submerged grounds.

I was sitting out under my favourite oak, congratulating myself that I

had no travelling to do just then,--it was very healthy--when my joy was

suddenly nipped in the bud by a loud hallo from the opposite side of the

bayou. Looking over, and answering the hail, I discerned first a mule,

and then something which so closely resembled an ape or an ourang

outang, that I was in doubt whether the voice had proceeded from it,

until a repetition of the hail, this time coming unmistakeably from it,

assured me that it was a human.

“Massa doctor at home?” yelled the voice.

“Yes, I am the doctor; what do you want?”

“Massa sent me with a letter to you.”

Jumping in the skiff, a few vigorous strokes sent me to the opposite

shore, where the singular being awaited my coming.

He was a negro dwarf of the most frightful appearance; his diminutive

body was garnished with legs and arms of enormously disproportionate

length; his face was hideous: a pair of tushes projected from either

side of a double hare-lip; and taking him altogether, he was the nearest

essemblance to the ourang outang mixed with the devil that human eyes

ever dwelt upon. I could not look at him without feeling disgust.

“Massa Bill sent me with a letter,” was his reply to my asking him his

business.

Opening it, I found a summons to see a patient, the mother of a man

named Disney, living some twenty miles distant by the usual road. It was

in no good humour that I told the dwarf to wait until I could swim my

horse over, and I would accompany him.

By the time I had concluded my preparations, and put a large bottle of

brandy in my pocket, my steed was awaiting me upon the opposite shore.

“Massa tole me to tell you ef you didn't mine swimming a little you had

better kum de nere way.”

“Do you have to swim much?”

“Oh no, massa, onely swim Plurisy Lake, and wade de back water a few

mile, you'll save haf de way at leste.” I looked at the sun. It was only

about two hours high, and the roads were in such miserable condition

that six miles an hour would be making fine speed, so I determined to go

the near way, and swim “Pleurisy slough.”

“You are certain you know the road, boy?”

“Oh, yes, massa, me know um ebery inch ob de groun'; hunted possum an'

coon ober him many a night. Massa, you ain't got any 'baccy, is you?”

“There's a chaw--and here's a drink of brandy. I'll give you another if

you pilot me safe through, and a good pounding if you get lost.”

“Dank you, Massa, um's good. No fere I lose you, know ebery inch of de

groun'.”

I had poured him out a dram, not considering his diminutive stature,

sufficient to unsettle the nerves of a stout man, but he drank it off

with great apparent relish; and by this time, everything being ready, we

commenced ploughing our way through the muddy roads.

We made but slow progress. I would dash on, and then have to wait for

the dwarf, who, belabouring his mule with a cudgel almost as large as

himself, strove in vain to keep up.

The road was directly down the bayou, for some miles. There were few

settlers on it then, and the extent of their clearing consisted of a

corn-patch. They were the pre-emptioners or squatters; men who settled

upon government land before its survey, and awaited the incoming of

planters with several negroes to buy their claims, themselves to be

bought out by more affluent emigrants. To one of the first-mentioned

class--the pre-emptioners--my visit was directed, or rather to his

mother, who occupied an intermediate grade between the squatter and

the small planter, inasmuch as she possessed one negro, the delectable

morsel for whom I was waiting every few hundred yards.

It wanted but an hour to sundown when we reached the place where it was

optional with me, either to go the longer route by the bayou, or save

several miles by cutting across the bend of the stream, having, however,

to swim “Pleurisy slough” if I did so.

The path across was quite obscure, and it would be dark by the time we

crossed; but the negro declared he knew every inch of the way, and as

saving distance was a serious consideration, I determined to try it and

“Pleurisy slough.”

Taking a drink to warm me, for the dew that had commenced to fall was

quite chilling, I gave one to the negro, not noticing the wild sparkle

of his eye or the exhilaration of his manner.

We pressed on eagerly, I ahead as long as the path lasted; but it giving

out at the edge of the back water, it became necessary for the negro to

precede and pilot the way.

I followed him mechanically for some distance, relying on his intimate

knowledge of the swamp, our steeds making but slow progress through the

mud and water.

When we entered the swamp I had remarked that the sun was in our faces;

and great was my astonishment, when we had travelled some time, on

glancing my eye upwards to see if it had left the tree-tops, to perceive

its last beams directly at my back, the very reverse of what it should

have been. Thinking perhaps that it was some optical illusion, I

consulted the moss on the trees, and its indication was that we were

taking the back track. I addressed the negro very sharply for having

misled me, when, instead of excusing himself, he turned on me his

hideous countenance and chuckled the low laugh of drunkenness. I saw

that I had given him too much brandy for his weak brain, and that he was

too far gone to be of any assistance to me in finding the way.

Mine was a pleasant situation truly. To return home would be as bad as

to endeavour to go on; it would be night at any rate before I could get

out of the swamp; and after it fell, as there was no moon, it would be

dangerous to travel, as the whole country was full of lakes and sloughs,

and we might be precipitated suddenly into one of them, losing our

animals if not being drowned ourselves.

It was evident that I would have to pass the night in the swamp, my only

companion the drunken dwarf. I had nothing to eat, and no weapons to

protect myself if assailed by wild beasts; but the swamp was high enough

to preclude the attack of anything but an alligator, and their bellow

was resounding in too close proximity to be agreeable.

Fortunately, being a cigar-smoker, I had a box of matches in my pocket,

so I would have a fire at least. My next care was to find a ridge

sufficiently above the water to furnish a dry place for building a fire

and camp. After considerable search, just at night-fall the welcome

prospect of a cane ridge above the overflow met my gaze; hurrying up

the negro, who by this time was maudlin drunk, I reached the cane, and

forcing my way with considerable difficulty through it until I got out

of the reach of the water, dismounted, and tying my horse, took the

negro down and performed the same office for his mule.

My next care was to gather materials for a fire before impenetrable

darkness closed over the swamp; fortunately for me, a fallen oak

presented itself not ten steps from where I stood. To have a cheerful

blazing fire was the work of a few minutes. Breaking off sufficient

cane-tops to last the steeds till morning, I stripped my horse--the mule

had nothing on but a bridle--and with the saddle and cane-leaves made me

a couch that a monarch, had he been as tired as I was, would have found

no fault with. As the negro was perfectly helpless, and nearly naked,

I gave him my saddle blanket, and making him a bed at a respectful

distance, bade him go to sleep.

Replenishing the fire with sufficient fuel to last till morning, I lit

a cigar, and throwing myself down upon my fragrant couch, gave myself

up to reflections upon the peculiarity of my situation. Had it been a

voluntary bivouac with a set of chosen companions, it would not have

awakened half the interest in my mind that it did, for the attending

circumstances imparted to it much of the romantic.

There, far from human habitation, my only companion a hideous dwarf,

surrounded with water, the night drape-ried darkly around, I lay, the

cane-leaves for my bed, the saddle for my pillow; the huge fire lighting

up the darkness for a space around, and giving natural objects a

strange, distorted appearance, bringing the two steeds into high

relief against the dark background of waving cane, which nodded over,

discoursing a wild, peculiar melody of its own. Occasionally a loud

explosion would be heard as the fire communicated with a green reed; the

wild hoot of an owl was heard, and directly I almost felt the sweep

of his wings as he went sailing by, and alighted upon an old tree just

where the light sank mingling with the darkness. I followed him with my

eye, and as he settled himself, he turned his gaze towards me; I moved

one of the logs, and his huge eyes fairly glistened with light, as the

flames shot up with increased vigour; the swamp moss was flowing around

him in long, tangled masses, and as a more vivid gleam uprose, I gazed

and started involuntarily. Had I not known it was an owl surrounded with

moss that sat upon that stricken tree, I would have sworn it was the

form of an old man, clad in a sombre flowing mantle, his arm raised in

an attitude of warning, that I gazed upon. A cane exploding, startled

the owl, and with a loud “tu whit, tu whoo,” he went sailing away in the

darkness. The unmelodious bellow of the alligator, and the jarring cry

of the heron, arose from a lake on the opposite side of the cane; whilst

the voices of a myriad of frogs, and the many undistinguish-able sounds

of the swamp, made the night vocal with discordancy.

My cigar being by this time exhausted, I took the bottle from my pocket,

and taking a hearty drink to keep the night air from chilling me when

asleep, was about to restore it to its place, and commend myself to

slumber, when, glancing at the dwarf, I saw his eyes fixed upon me with

a demoniac expression that I shall never forget.

“Give me a dram,” he said very abruptly, not prefacing the request by

those deferential words never omitted by the slave when in his proper

mind.

“No, sir, you have already taken too much; I will give you no more,” I

replied.

“Give me a dram,” he again said, more fiercely than before.

Breaking off a cane, I told him that if he spoke to me in that manner

again I would give him a severe flogging.

But to my surprise he retorted, “D----n you, white man, I will kill you

ef you don't give me more brandy!” his eyes flashing and sparkling with

electric light.

I rose to correct him, but a comparison of my well developed frame

with his stunted deformed proportions, and the reflection that his

drunkenness was attributable to my giving him the brandy, deterred me.

“I will kill you,” he again screamed, his fangs clashing, and the foam

flying from his mouth, his long arms extended as if to clutch me, and

the fingers quivering nervously.

I took a hasty glance of my condition. I was lost in the midst of

the swamp, an unknown watery expanse surrounding me; remote from any

possible assistance; the swamps were rapidly filling with water, and if

we did not get out to-morrow or next day, we would in all probability be

starved or drowned; the negro was my only dependence, to pilot me to the

settlements, and he was threatening my life if I did not give him more

brandy; should I do it or not? Judging from the effects of the two

drinks I had given him, if he got possession of the bottle it might

destroy him, or at least render him incapable of travelling, until

starvation and exposure would destroy us. My mind was resolved upon that

subject; I would give him no more. There was no alternative, I would

have to stand his assault; considering I was three times his size, a

fearful adventure, truly, thought I, not doubting a moment but that my

greater size would give me proportionate strength; I must not hurt him,

but will tie him until he recovers.

The dwarf, now aroused to maniacal fury by the persistance in my

refusal, slowly approached me to carry his threat into execution. The

idea of such a diminutive object destroying without weapons a man of

my size, presented something ludicrous, and I laughingly awaited his

attack, ready to tie his hands before he could bite or scratch me.

Wofully I underrated his powers!

[Illustration: 0201]

With a yell like a wild beast's, he precipitated himself upon me;

evading my blow, he clutched with his long fingers at my throat, burying

his talons in my flesh, and writhing his little body around mine, strove

to bear me to earth.

I summoned my whole strength, and endeavoured to shake him off; but,

possessing the proverbial power of the dwarf, increased by his drunken

mania to an immense degree, I found all my efforts unavailing, and, oh

God! horrors of horrors, what awful anguish was mine, when I found him

bearing me slowly to earth, and his piercing talons buried in my throat,

cutting off my breath! My eyes met his with a more horrid gleam than

that he glared upon me: his was the fire of brutal nature, aroused by

desire to intense malignancy; and mine the gaze of despair and death.

Closer and firmer his gripe closed upon my throat, barring out the sweet

life's breath. I strove to shriek for help, but could not. How shall I

describe the racking agony that tortured me? A mountain, heavier than

any earth's bosom holds, was pressing upon my breast, slowly crushing

me to fragments. All kinds of colours first floated before my eyes,

and then everything wore a settled, intensely fiery red. I felt my jaw

slowly dropping, and my tongue protruding, till it rested on the hellish

fangs that encircled my throat. I could hear distinctly every pulsation

of even the minutest artery in my frame. Its wild singing was in my ears

like the ocean wave playing over the shell-clad shore. I remember it all

perfectly, for the mind, through all this awful struggle, still remained

full of thought and clearness. Closer grew the gripe of those talons

around my throat, and I knew that I could live but a few moments more.

I did not pray. I did not commend my soul to God. I had not a fear of

death. But oh! awful were my thoughts at dying in such a way--suffocated

by a hellish negro in the midst of the noisome swamp, my flesh to be

devoured by the carrion crow, my bones to whiten where they lay for long

years, and then startle the settler, when civilization had strode

into the wilderness, and the cane that would conceal my bones would be

falling before the knife of the cane-cutter. I ceased to breathe. I was

dead. I had suffered the last pangs of that awful hour, and either

it was the soul not yet resigned to leave its human tenement, or else

immortal mind triumphing over death, but I still retained the sentient

principle within my corpse. I remember distinctly when the demon relaxed

his clutch, and shaking me to see if I were really dead, broke into a

hellish laugh. I remember distinctly when tearing the bottle from me, he

pulled my limber body off my couch, and stretched himself upon it. And

what were my thoughts? I was dead, yet am living now. Ay, dead as

human ever becomes. My lungs had ceased to play; my heart was still; my

muscles were inactive; even my skin had the dead clammy touch. Had men

been there, they would have placed me in a coffin, and buried me deep

in the ground, and the worm would have eaten me, and the death-rats made

nests in my heart, and what was lately a strong man would have become

a loathsome mass. But still in that coffin amidst those writhing worms,

would have been the immortal mind, and still would it have thought and

pondered on till the last day was come. For such, is the course of soul

and death, as my interpretation has it. I was dead, all but my mind, and

that still thought on as vividly, as ramblingly, as during life. My body

lay dead in that murderer's swamp, my mind roamed far away in thought,

reviewing my carnal life. I stood, as when a boy, by my mother's grave.

The tall grass was waving over it, the green sod smiled at my feet.

“Mother,” I whispered, “your child is weary--the world looks harsh upon

him--coldness comes from those who should shelter the orphan. Mother,

open your large black eyes and smile upon your child.” Again, I stood

upon the steamer, a childish fugitive, giving a last look upon my

fleeing home, and mingling my tears with the foaming wave beneath. I

dragged my exhausted frame through the cotton-fields of the south. My

back was wearied with stooping--we were picking the first opening--and

as dreams of future distinction would break upon my soul, the strap of

the cotton-sack, galling my shoulder, recalled me to myself. All

the phases of my life were repeated, until they ended where I lay

dead!--dead as mortal ever becomes. I thought, What will my friends say

when they hear that on a visit to the sick, I disappeared in the swamp,

and was never heard of more?--drowned or starved to death? Will they

weep for me? for me?--Not many, I ween, will be the tears that will

be shed for me. Then, after the lapse of long years, my bones will be

found. I wonder who will get my skull? Perhaps an humble doctor like

myself, who, meditating upon it, will not think that it holds the mind

of a creature of his own ambition--his own lofty instincts. He will

deem it but an empty skull, and little dream that it held a sentient

principle. But I know that the mind will still tenant it. Ha, ha! how

that foul ape is gurgling his blood-bought pleasure. I would move if I

could, and wrench the bottle from him; but mine is thought, not action.

Hark! there is a storm arising. I hear with my ear, that is pressed on

the earth, the thunder of the hurricane. How the trees crash beneath it!

Will it prostrate those above me? Hark! what awful thunder! Ah me! what

fierce pang is that piercing my very vitals? There is a glimmering of

light before my eyes. Can it be that I the dead am being restored to

human life? Another thunder peal! 'tis the second stroke of my heart--my

blood is red-hot--it comes with fire through my veins--the earth

quakes--the mountain is rolling off my chest--I live!--I breathe!--I

see!--I hear!--Where am I? Who brought me here? I hear other sounds, but

cannot my own voice. Where am I? Ah! I remember the dwarf strangled

me. Hark! where is he? Is that the sunbeam playing over the trees? What

noisome odour like consuming flesh is that which poisons the gale? Great

God! can that disfigured half-consumed mass be my evil genius?

I rose up, and staggering, fell again; my strength was nearly gone. I

lay until I thought myself sufficiently recruited to stand, and then

got up and surveyed the scene. The animals were tied as I left them,

and were eating their cane unconcernedly; but fearfully my well-nigh

murderer had paid for his crime, and awful was the retribution Maddened

by the spirits, he had rushed into the flames, and, in the charred

and loathsome mass, nothing of the human remained; he had died the

murderer's death and been buried in his grave,--a tomb of fire.

To remain longer in the horrid place was impossible; my throat pained me

excessively where the talons had penetrated the flesh, and I could not

speak above a whisper. I turned the mule loose, thinking that it would

return home, and conduct me out of the swamp. I was not incorrect in my

supposition; the creature led me to his owner's cabin. The patient had

died during the night.

My account of the dwarf's attack did not surprise the family; he had

once, when in a similar condition, made an attack upon his mistress, and

would have strangled her had assistance not been near.

His bones were left to bleach where they lay. I would not for the

universe have looked again upon the place; and his mistress being dead,

there were none to care for giving him the rites of sepulture.

THE END.

STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE, AND FAR-WEST SCENES.

A Series Of Humorous Sketches Descriptive Of Incidents And Character In

The Wild West.

To Which is Added Other Miscellaneous Pieces.

By “Solitaire,”

(John S. Robb, of St. Louis, Mo,)

1846

Dan Elkhorn.--I've seen more fun In these yeur diggins than would fill a

book, Solitaire--Can I persuade you, Dan, to relate those scenes to me?

Dan.--Well, hoss, I won't do anythin' else!

To Col. Charles Keemle.

Permit me, my friend, to dedicate to you these pages, the first

production of my pen in the field of western literature, and allow me to

say, that your own graphic relations of far-west scenes, witnessed when

this now giant territory was in its infancy, has contributed much to

illustrate for me the striking features of western character. You may be

set down as one, who has not only been a dweller in the wilds since its

primitive days, but an observer of its progress in every stage, from the

semi-civilised state until the refinement of polished life has usurped

the wilderness. Through this period of transition you have stood

unchanged, and that generous and noble nature, which induced the Indian

chieftain, in by-gone days, to style you as the “Gray Eagle” of the

forest, calls forth this humble tribute of regard from your friend.

John S. Robb.

PREFACE.

In offering the following sketches to the public, I feel somewhat like

the hoosier candidate described his sensations, when he first essayed

to deliver a _stump speech_: “I felt,” said he, “that ef I could ony git

the beginnin' out--ef I could ony say 'fellar citizens!' that arter that

it 'ud go jest as easy as corn shuckin'!” So with your humble servant,

if this my first effort at book making should meet with favor, I feel

that a second attempt would be a pleasing task. To all adventurers

in the field of literature the slightest encouragement is a shower

of success--in my own case a smile upon my effort will swell in my

estimation to a downright “snigger” The commendation which was bestowed

upon the sketch of “Swallowing Oysters Alive,” was some evidence that it

tickled the public taste, and, of course, its wide approval tickled the

fancy of the author; so if this collection be an infliction upon the

reading public's taste, they have themselves to blame--they offered the

temptation.

It is unnecessary for me to apologise for their style, for to pretend

a capability to furnish any better, I don't--and their finish will be

excused when I state, they are the productions of the few short hours

outside of eight in the morning and ten at night, the time between

being occupied by arduous duties which almost forbid thought, save of

themselves.

The west, abounds with incident and humor, and the observer must lack an

eye for the comic who can look upon the panorama of western life without

being tempted to laugh. It would indeed seem that the nearer sundown,

the more original the character and odd the expression, as if the sun,

with his departing beams, had shed a new feature upon the back-woods

inhabitants. This oddity and originality has often attracted my

attention and contributed to my amusement, and I have wondered why the

finished and graphic writers of our country so seldom sought material

from this inviting field. The idea of ever attempting to develope any

portion of this mine of incident and character, with my feeble pen, has

but recently been flattered into existence, and if my hasty efforts but

aid to awaken attention and attract skilful pens to this original and

striking field of literature, my highest ambition is attained. The

amusing delineations of Thorpe, Hooper, Field, Sol Smith, and others,

who have with abler pens developed these incidents of western life, and

the avidity with which their sketches have been read, give assurance

that the rivers and valleys of this western land will no longer be

neglected. That it here abounds as plentiful as the minerals within its

bosom, there is no question, for every step of the pioneer's progress

has been marked with incidents, humorous and thrilling, which wait but

the wizard spell of a bright mind and able pen to call them from misty

tradition, and clothe them with speaking life.

It is true there are dark streaks in western life, as well as light

ones, as where in human society exists the one without the other; but,

in their relation, the future historian of the wilds should be careful

to distinguish between the actual settler and the _border harpy_. The

acts of this latter class have often thrilled the refined mind with

horror, and brought condemnation upon the pioneer, while a wide

distinction exists between the two characters. The _harpy_ is generally

some worthless and criminal character, who, having to flee from more

populous districts, seeks refuge at the outskirts of civilization, and

there preys alike upon the red man and unsuspecting settler. There

have been instances where, after a long career of depredation, these

offenders have aroused the vengeance of the back-woods settler, when his

punishment became as sweeping as his hospitality had before been warm

and unsuspecting. In general, however, the western _squatter_ is a free

and jovial character, inclined to mirth rather than evil, and when

he encounters his fellow man at a barbecue, election, log-rolling, or

frolic, he is more disposed to join in a feeling of hilarity on the

occasion, than to participate in wrong or outrage. An encounter with

the hostile red skins, or the wild animals of the forest is to him

pleasurable excitement, and his fireside or camp-fire is rich with story

of perilous adventure, and which seems only worthy of his remembrance,

when fearfully hazardous in incident.

Appended to these Western Sketches will be found several of a satirical

and humorous character, which have met with some favor; though of a

local character, they may contribute to the amusement of the reader, and

if so, the object for which they were written has been attained.

In conclusion, allow me to add, that the within pages are written as

much for the reader's amusement as the illustration of odd incidents

and character, and if they fail in this, they fail altogether;--it is

certain I have tried to be funny, and not to succeed in such an effort

is the most hopeless of all literary failures. I shall leave the

decision of this, to me momentous, question, to the indulgence of

the public, and hold myself ready to “back out” if they decree it, or

attempt a better effort under their approving smile.

A word to the critics:--Gentlemen, I have a high respect for you, and

some little fear, and I, therefore, beg of you to touch me lightly--if

you touch me at all; or, in the language of the Irish pupil, when about

to receive a thrashing from his tutor;--“If you can't be _aisy_, be as

aisy as you _can!_”

The Author.

STREAKS OF SQUATTER LIFE, AND FAR-WEST SCENES.

[Illustration: titlepage3]

THE WESTERN WANDERINGS OF A TYPO.

CHAPTER I. THE WAY HE WAS “BROUGHT UP.”

John Earl, the subject of our story, was a true and veritable specimen

of the genus _Jour Printer_,--intelligent, reckless, witty, improvident,

competent, and unsteady,--floating on the great sea of life, regardless

of either its winds or tides,--but little troubled about the present,

and perfectly indifferent as to the future. John was the son of a

Philadelphia printer, who died soon after his marriage, and the grief

and destitution of our hero's mother so preyed upon her slender frame,

that in giving birth to him she sunk under her sufferings--the wail of

her offspring in this world was the knell which signalled her departure

to another. That “the poor aids the poor,” was a saying verified in

John's case, for a poor shoemaker in the house adjoining his home took

charge of the bereaved infant, and sheltered it beneath his humble roof.

The worthy son of Crispin had none of his own to trouble him, and

his wife and himself, as their little charge budded into prattling

childhood, grew daily more fond of him, until our hero held at least his

third of interest in the household. At his own request he was permitted

to learn the same business his father had been bred to, and with many

injunctions, and a good suit of clothes, he was consigned at a proper

age to a master printer. Soon after his transfer to his new home, his

adopted parents bade him farewell. The old shoemaker had become infected

with the western fever for emigration, and after long and repeated

consultations with his wife, had concluded to depart to the land of

rapid fortunes and unbounded enterprise. The parting was affectionate,

and after many fond wishes for each other's happiness, our hero was left

to the mercies of the “Art preservative.” We need not say that he grew

wise in its mysteries, we will assume it as a matter of course. John

was, or rather grew to be of a happy disposition, and viewed life as

something resembling Pat's pig, a compound of alternate streaks of fat

and lean, and whenever fortune looked through her blue spectacles upon

his progress, he always set it down as his streak of lean, and grew

happy amid his distresses, under the firm belief that his alternate

slice of fat was next in order. He was a philosopher in the true sense

of the word, for he let no occurrence of life rumple the couch of his

repose--if he didn't like his quarters he took up his store of earthly

wealth upon the end of a stick, and travelled. At the period of which

we write, John had tasted four or five years of the responsibility

of manhood, and had, from the day of his freedom, been an occasional

visiter to all the Atlantic cities; he had now grown tired of his old

tramping ground, and turned his eye westward. Who knows, thought John,

but I may find a Mount Arrarat in the new land whereon to rest my ark!

“The west, aye,” thought John, “that mighty corn field--that region

of pork and plenty--land of the migrating sucker--haven of hope, and

country of adventure, I stretch out my arms towards thee, take me up

like a mother, and be kind to your new child.”

Gathering up his shirt No. 2, and overcoat No. 1, into a handkerchief

valise, and wending his way to a Baltimore steamer, he proceeded on

board, deposited his bundle, and shook the dust of the city from his

feet. From the deck of the steamer he looked out upon the mart of trade,

covered with its busy hundreds, who were rushing to and fro, and running

in and out of the great store-houses, like swarms of bees around their

hives.

“Poor fellows,” soliloquized John, “how soon old time will knock them

over, and distribute all the honey they are toiling for among a new

generation.”

A ringing of the steamer's bell disturbed his musings, and all became,

for a few minutes, bustle and confusion--the engine moved, and the

paddles answered its clank with a splash, a moment more and they were

moving in the stream, and wending their way past the rows of shipping.

As the smoke of the city faded from their view, John turned about to

look upon his fellow passengers; some looked pleased, as if the trip

was one of pleasure; others sad, as if departing from joys; whilst a

portion, discontented with what they had left, appeared determined to

dislike what they were journeying to, and muttered their displeasure

audibly. Standing alone, leaning over the rail, was a fine looking

elderly gentleman, whose countenance wore an air of quiet content and

goodness--it was, indeed, one of those inviting countenances that

we sometimes see possessed by honorable old age, which tells of wise

thought and kindly sympathy, instead of a callous heart and suspicious

mind, and our hero selected its owner for a travelling acquaintance.

Approaching him, and leaning over a rail by his side, he remarked, “We

are moving through the water, sir, with lightning speed.”

This assertion being most palpable and manifest, the old gent remarked

in turn that they were moving with rapidity. Having fully agreed upon

this point, John ventured further to enquire, “If it had ever occurred

to his mind that steamboats were a great invention, any how?” The old

gentleman acknowledged “he had been forcibly struck with the fact.” Now,

these passes of conversation may appear to the reader as very

trivial and commonplace, but let us assure him they led to important

results--they broke the ice which lay between two bodies, and let their

souls float into contact. John having, as it were, got hold of the cover

of non-intercourse, which most travellers wear, just unfolded it at

each corner, and by his wit, intelligence, and reckless gaiety, folded

himself up next the old man's heart, and tucked the corners of the robe

under him. The old man soon became delighted with our hero, and they

became inseparable _compagnons du voyage_.

A small bell was rung, and immediately the clerk commenced taking up

tickets. Here was an eventful period for John--he had not troubled

himself with the necessary receipt for passage, for one very good

reason--he had none of the needful to purchase it with; like all

philosophers he had great faith in luck, and now resigned himself to her

care.

“I'll take your ticket, sir,” said the clerk.

“I wish you would,” said John, “if you see it any where about me.”

The clerk took a stare at our hero, and then remarked, “I have no time

to jest, sir.”

“Nor I any inclination,” added John, “the fact is, my friend, I've got no

ticket, and as uncle Sam is my only existing relation, and as you have a

contract with him, suppose you book me as one of his males.”

“I say I have no time for jesting, sir,” reiterated the clerk, in an

angry tone, “so please to hand me your ticket.”

“Well, then,” continued John, “I'll have to let you into my secret, I

see,--I'm an attaché of the press, on my road to Washington;--now, I

suppose, its all right. You are aware if I am delayed, Gales and Seaton

will be very angry, and Blair and Rives get in a pucker.” The clerk was

here getting into a wrathy state, when John's old friend reached the

clerk the amount of his passage, and he passed on. John objected, but

the old man insisted upon lending it to him, and the matter of fare

being settled they sped onward smoothly as before. “Here's a streak of

fat” thought John, “for I have accidentally fell in with a travelling

angel,” and as some return for his generosity, he set about making

himself particularly agreeable to his old companion. In the course of

their conversation the old gent learned John's history, and that he

was now on his way to Washington in search of business, to raise money

enough to carry him west. His companion informed John that he was

a western man, and invited him to bear him company to his home in

Cleveland, Ohio; but our hero preferred the Mississippi country. He

agreed, however, if he should fail in gaining business in Washington, to

accompany him to Wheeling, provided he would increase the debt already

incurred, and trust to the goddess, luck, for payment. After being

assured that his company was considered worth double the sum, the matter

was set at rest, and they entered Washington together.

The old man had business in the city, and proposed to our hero, that

while he was transacting it, he should take a stroll through the offices

and see what chance there was for employment, and afterwards meet him

at the Capitol. They separated, and when they again met, according to

appointment, our typo “reported no progress,” so it was instantly agreed

they should depart for Wheeling. As they gazed from the “spectator's

gallery,” John whispered to his companion:

“I know the mass of those patriots below, and rightly appreciate them,

for I have been behind the curtain--have helped some of them to make

good English of their speeches to Bunkum,--have seen their tricks to get

office, and their tricks to keep them,--have seen the way the cat jumps,

and seen it jump too; in short, I'm up to the whole 'wool pulling'

system, and I advise them to go it while they can, for the people may

one day find them out, and then their spreading here will end in a

sprawl at home.”

He had gradually grown warm in his soliloquy, until his voice became

audible, when the speaker struck his hammer, the sergeant-at-arms

started for the gallery, and John and his old friend started for the

stairs.

On the next morning the two departed west, leaving the seat of

government and its official inhabitants, for the broad land of promise

which lay beyond.

“What think you of the capital?” enquired the old gentleman, as they

journeyed onward.

“The worst,” answered our hero, and assuming a Timon of Athens attitude,

he added, “I have turned my back upon it in disgust. It is a theatre of

the worst passions in our nature--chicanery lurks within the cabinet,

distrust and envy without, while fawning sycophancy environs it around

and about. To sum it up, it is a little of government--a great deal of

'bunkum,' sprinkled with a high seasoning of political juggling, the

whole of which has but one end and aim--the spoils of Uncle Sam.”

“Bravo!” exclaimed his old friend, “you will have to get elected from

some of the Western states, and set about cleaning the Augean stable.”

“Not I,” answered John. “It's too dirty a job, and besides, the

sovereign people claim it as their peculiar privilege, let them smell it

out for themselves.”

Discussing thus, things political, they jogged on to their place of

parting, without incident worthy of noting by the way. John still held

to his desire of visiting the Mississippi country, and his old friend

insisted on paying his expenses to Cincinnati, our hero easily yielded

to his proposition, with the understanding that it was to be paid when

they again met.

“I may one day see you in Cleveland,” said John, “with fortune buckled

on my back, and if it should be there, 'whether I will or no,' be

assured I shall not cut my old friends.”

The old man laughed at the careless abandon of his young friend,

insisted upon his calling upon him in Cleveland when he had become tired

of strolling, and they parted with warm expressions of regard. Our hero

having found a boat which drew so little water, that it would, as the

captain said, “run up a tree with a drop of the element upon it,” he

embarked on board, and stretching his form out in one of the state-room

berths, gave liberty to his thoughts, and wandered back in memory to his

childhood. Vainly did his memory search for some kindred face to dwell

upon, the only semblance to such was the old shoemaker and his wife;

and next to them he placed his late companion,--for he and his adopted

parents were the only beings in his recollection who had ever bestowed

upon him disinterested, kindly regard. He felt that he had floated like

a moat in the sunbeam, whithersoever the breeze listed, having no

home where he might nestle in health, or lie down in when seized

by affliction--no port opened its arms to his bark, nor had it any

destination--because it had no papers! but floated upon the broad wave

of life the sport of fortune--and a hard fortune at that. As these

thoughts stole over his heart, it became sad, and for the first time

in years its fountains filled up to overflowing, and poured its burning

waters over his cheeks. The future was a matter of such uncertainty,

that he did not care to think upon it, nor at that moment did he care

what it might bring forth--if good, well; if evil, it would be but a

change from one feature of hard fortune to another. In due course of

time the queen city of the west appeared in the distance, and his heart

revived as he gazed upon her young greatness--hope awoke from her short

slumber to urge him forward to greater efforts. On landing he sought out

a printing establishment, and at his first application fortune favored

him--a streak of fat was waiting for his arrival in the pork city, so

throwing off his coat, he was soon clicking the type to the tune of

“better days” and here we shall leave him until our next chapter.