The story which I am about to relate may by some be considered
extravagant. I shall not argue the point; but content myself with the
reflection that mankind have never yet been unanimous in their
opinions in relation to any subject which admitted of a question.
There are two special merits which I claim for my story, viz: that it
is _brief_, and that it has a _moral_. Such as it is I offer it to the
consideration of the reader.
It was a beautiful night in July.--The noble steamer "Dewitt Clinton"
was speeding her way through the moonlit waters of the Hudson,
thronged with passengers. We had left Albany late in the afternoon;
already we had passed the majestic Cattskill, and were entering among
those gorgeous scenes of nature which have been celebrated by an
hundred pens.--Julia and myself had escaped from the crowd below, to
the upper "round house" or roofing of the boat, which commanded an
unobstructed view of the objects on either side of the river, and
where we were secure from interruption, the myriads below being too
busily engaged in contending for berths, and preparing for their
night's lodging, to seek out our retreat or participate in the
enjoyment of the beauties we were contemplating.
After paying due homage to the magnificent scenery around us, our
conversation took a more common-place turn, and, as we had met that
day after a long separation, during which Julia had paid a visit to
some of our old friends in the north, she detailed to me the many
happy meetings and amusing incidents of her excursion. She had gone
through a long narration of the sayings and doings of aunts and
cousins, and had given me a full list of new members of several
families which we remembered in their simple elements, when the
fathers and mothers were girls and boys, innocent of all thoughts of
matrimony, and ignorant of its joys and sorrows. She enumerated the
births, deaths and marriages of a whole village, in each individual
resident of which we had felt more or less interest in our early
years, and detailed their various changes of fortune and situation. In
fact she brought up many years' arrearages of information, to me of
more importance than the result of the Kentucky election, or the fate
of the prime match on the Union Course between the best horses of the
north and south. The private history of the old associates of my
youth, as thus narrated to me, might have afforded a moral to adorn a
tale of much higher interest than this I am now writing.
"And you saw my Aunt Deborah," said I. "Pray how does she look, and
what did she say? I remember the eccentric old soul, as if the ten
long years since I have seen her had been but as many months. Many a
lecture did she utter on the extravagance, the impetuosity, and the
recklessness of my boyhood; and much did she preach to me of prudence
and moderation, I fear, in vain. Does she still remember my wild
pranks?"
"Oh yes--but her censure of your wildness was so mingled with praises
of your good qualities, that I doubt whether she would have permitted
another person to speak ill, even of those points in your character
which she blamed the most."
"Kind old woman! It was so when I was a boy. She was perpetually
lecturing, and yet she was most kind to me. And somehow, in spite of
her irksome admonitions, for which I had then no great relish, I soon
discovered that I was a favorite with her."
"On one point she was particularly urgent. She questioned me whether
you had as yet learned the value of money, observing, that in your
younger days you had been a good-for-nothing little spendthrift."
"I hope you did not deceive the good old lady. It would be but fair
that she should know that the prudence with which I was not born, has
failed as yet of obtaining a lodgment in my head. It would have been a
pity to deprive her of the glorious consolation of knowing that her
predictions of my improvidence have been fully realized."
"Well, I did not think it necessary to inform her of the full extent
of your delinquency; but I admitted to her that you had not the gift
of _saving_, which she admires so much."
"She often told me that I would never acquire it."
"Oh, now I remember, she charged me to deliver to you a renewed
admonition to prudence and economy. 'Tell E----,' said she, with great
solemnity, made still more solemn by the huge pinch of snuff which she
disposed of at the moment, 'that he must look forward to the future,
and now, while he is prosperous, prepare for a less plentiful time,
which may come. Tell him that, unless he studies prudence and economy,
sooner or later, _his nose must come to the grindstone_.' I hope you
will profit by the exhortation."
"I wish I could, I hope I may," said I, with something like a sigh
interrupting for a moment the laugh, which I could not resist, at the
expense of my good-hearted aunt Deborah.
Some further conversation occupied us for a short time, when we were
admonished by the comparative quiet which had taken place of the
bustle below, that it was time to seek such rest as we might find
among the crowd.
Those persons who have not travelled in a "night-boat," as a steamer
is called which performs its trips during the night, are probably not
aware of the kind of lodgings which it affords when the number of
passengers is large. The disposal of five hundred lodgers on board a
steam boat is no trifling task. The berths are of course limited in
number, and when crowded, the floors of the cabins are covered with
sleeping contrivances of various descriptions. Settees, cots, and a
kind of oblong box, having thin mattresses spread over them, with a
sheet and blanket perhaps, are wedged together, each calculated to
hold the body of a human being, by the most scanty and economical
measurement. The berths are first exhausted by those who are most
prompt in looking after their own comfort; and then comes the scramble
for the cots, settees, &c. In this contest high words often occur, and
in some instances I have heard of serious conflicts for the possession
of one of these miserable dormitories.
On this occasion I had enlisted the good offices of the younger
Captain Sherman, who promised to secure me a lodging, and when I
entered the cabin it was pointed out to me. Numbers had been less
fortunate, and unable to procure a place of rest below, had
accommodated themselves upon benches, chairs, &c. above,--or wrapped
in cloaks, had stretched themselves on the deck. Clambering over those
who had already retired, I stretched myself on my pallet. In doing so
I awoke my next neighbor, a gigantic Kentuckian, who lay cramped up in
his scanty cot, like a stranded leviathan among a shoal of porpoises.
He cast his eyes upon me, and with an ineffectual attempt to extend
his limbs, muttered, "Close stowing this, stranger."
I assented to the truth of his remark; but he seemed in no mood for
conversation, and was soon fast asleep. The heat was suffocating from
the effusions of so many human bodies lying in rows, almost touching
each other,
"Thick as the autumnal leaves which strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa."
I found it impossible to sleep. The feverish state of the atmosphere,
and the tumult around me, scared the drowsy god from my pillow--[I had
no pillow by the way, but made my great coat serve as a substitute for
one.] The thundering and crashing of the engine,--the dashing of the
paddles in the water--the stamping of feet above our heads--the uproar
of many voices, heard at intervals when some order was given to the
crew--the _banging_ of the wood upon the planks, at it was transferred
from the pile to the engine-room--the rumbling of ballast-boxes, as
they were occasionally transferred from side to side, for the purpose
of _trimming_ the steamer--the harsh rattling of the tackle, as a boat
was lowered, to land or take off passengers by a _tow line_,[1] and
the simultaneous rush to the gangway of those who were to go on shore,
while the subtile fluid which gave motion to our floating caravan,
being partially restrained, emitted a wheezing and uncomfortable
sound.
[Footnote 1: This method of landing and taking off passengers was
practised for many years on the Hudson, but finally abolished by law,
on account of its risks, several fatal accidents having been caused by
it. The steamer was not brought to during the operation; but a tow
line attached to the small boat, was out from the steamer, and drawn
in by the machinery with great velocity.]
But who shall describe the varied and terrific music of the steam
engine? I do not attempt it, not doubting that in the march of
improvement, the poet will hereafter make it a special theme; and that
some American Mayerbeer or Mozart, will consider the composition of a
passage by steam from Albany to New York, as affording facilities for
expression and contrast, equally sublime with the March in Saul or the
Battle of Prague.--Occasionally we came to a dead stop at some
principal landing place. For a moment the engine was hushed, as silent
as death; then a feeble whistle was heard from the steam pipe, (sweet,
shrill and almost plaintive,) followed by a roar of the imprisoned
element, fiercely exulting at its recovered liberty, as it was _let
off_ from the engine, and rushing forth with such gigantic impulse as
to shake every timber in the vessel.--Gradually the roar subsides;
slowly, slowly, until a humming sound succeeds, as though all the bees
of Hybla were swarming around our heads. Suddenly it ceases, and for a
moment the steam is silent. Then again, the hoarse thunder of the
machinery commences, the paddles dash the water from beneath them,
with giant strides, and the motion of the vessel is distinctly felt,
as she rushes onward in her course.
Such were the sounds above which afforded to the hundreds of sleepers
a discordant lullaby, sufficiently hostile to repose, one would think,
to drive slumber from the eyelids of Somnus himself. But all this
"mortal pudder o'er our heads," was less distracting than the concert
of discords which was in a coarse of performance immediately around
me, comparatively, it is true, in a _minor key_.--One hundred and
fifty _wind instruments_ of various constructions and dimensions, were
playing _ad-libitum_, in every diversity of tone and time, concertos,
fantasias and airs, which breathed of any thing but heaven. Here could
be heard the mournful strain of a proboscis which seemed attuned to
melancholy--there, the fierce blast of a nostril which emulated the
magic horn of the wild huntsman; while in ludicrous contrast, hard-by
were heard the stifled eruptions of a snout, which might have been
taken for the rehearsals of an inexperienced porker. One drew in his
breath with a painful squeel and a low whistle, and puffed it forth as
he would have done in extinguishing a candle--another, began in a
gentle strain, "like the sweet south, breathing upon a bed of
violets"--gradually rising to a full and manly tone--still gaining
strength as it advanced--now louder and more rapid--dashing onward
with alarming impetuosity--louder, louder still; and now, the very
brink of this musical cataract having been reached--a _crash_ ensues,
like the termination of that terrific passage in the overture to Der
Freyschutz, which almost freezes the blood. The explosion past, this
fantastic nose commenced again its tender strains, and again rose to
its climax. Another rolled forth a heavy bass, deep, solemn and
monotonous, like the muttering of distant thunder, or the roar of the
vexed ocean heaving its waves on the shore after a storm. Another,
with teeth compressed, seemed to draw in breath repeatedly without
respiration, and suddenly to disembogue this over supply of air with a
single emphatic snort, which threw his mouth open to its full extent.
Some squeeled continuously; some groaned; and others whistled through
their mouths in drawing in breath, and through their noses, in
respiring it.
It will not be wondered that I could not sleep, yet my fellow
travellers seemed unannoyed. I fell into a train of profound thought
upon the causes of the various cadences of different noses, and
puzzled myself upon the shapes and dimensions suitable to produce
certain simple or compound tones in the concert. In following out
these reflections, I wondered what description of music I must make
myself, and could not but wish to hear myself snore--(a thing I
believe impossible.) I could not avoid handling my own nose, to fix
according to my imperfect theory, the extent and character of its
musical capacity. By an association of ideas, the consideration of
this question brought back to my mind the prophecy of aunt Deborah. I
pondered upon it until the reflections which it suggested became
painful. I endeavored to banish it from my thoughts, but could not
entirely succeed. After a considerable time, I fell into a kind of
_snooze_--a state which was neither absolute sleeping or waking--a
kind of conscious unconsciousness, partaking of both in nearly equal
degrees. Visions of imaginary objects glanced before me, which seemed
to partake of or to be blended with the scene and sounds around me.
Dim figures came and went between me and the lamp, hanging at the
extremity of the cabin, on which my eye was fixed. Among these beings
my aunt Deborah two or three times made her appearance; her starch'd
cap, peaked nose, and keen grey eye, were not to be mistaken. I could
identify even her tortoise snuff-box, which seemed as new as when I
saw it ten years ago. Her look was rigid and menacing, and seemed to
bode me no good--for I dreaded a lecture. These objects were the
materials of dreams:--active thought and volition had nothing to do
with their production. Yet my eyes were open,--my senses were awake. I
could see and mark the motion of the red curtains, swinging to and
fro--I still heard the unwearied nasal minstrelsey to which I have
alluded, as distinctly as before.
The philosophers, I believe, have explained this contradictory state
of the body and mind. I fear I have not described it so as to make
myself clearly understood; but I am no philosopher, unless it be a
laughing one. Those who have experienced a visitation of the "night
mare," will I presume, comprehend my meaning.--I am not aware that
this state of things had ceased, but believe the combat between real
and unreal impressions was still going on in my mind, when I plainly
perceived two large, gaunt blackamoors (whom I well remembered to have
seen when at home in Richmond, pursuing their daily toil in Myers's
tobacco factory,) descend the cabin stairs, and approach the spot
where I lay. The obstacles of a crowded room did not seem to impede
them; and I soon felt their iron grasp on my limbs. I was lifted by
them from my pallet, and borne, I know not how, up the stairs, past
the engine, to the forward deck. I endeavored from the moment they
laid hands on me, to struggle with them; but my limbs were powerless:
I endeavored to call out, and awaken my fellow lodgers; but my voice
had lost its sound, my tongue seemed paralyzed: I could not articulate
a syllable. The cold sweat of terror stood upon my brow. I had a
presentiment that some awful fate awaited me, but I could form no
conception what it was to be.
At the place where they halted in their progress, I saw a huge
grindstone, from behind which a little black urchin leaped up, and
seizing the handle, commenced turning it with surprising velocity,
looking into my face and laughing with that hearty glee so peculiar to
the cachinations of his race. I knew the imp too well, for I had seen
him in his tatters an hundred times, hopping the gutters in front of
the Eagle Hotel. A horrible consciousness of my fate now flashed upon
me. The prophesy of my aunt Deborah came into my mind, and I felt that
it was to be fulfilled. I cast my eyes around me in despair, when they
fell upon the figure of the old lady herself, standing upon the prow
of the vessel. Her look was severe and reproachful. The finger of her
right hand was uplifted, as if she would have said, "I have warned you
in vain!"--while her left hand conveyed a pinch of snuff to her
nostrils, which they received with an inspiration so keen that it
hissed in my ears like hot iron. My glance at this figure was but
momentary. Scarce had the imp commenced turning the instrument upon
which I had now become aware that I was to be tortured, when the
Titans in whose gripe I was held, forced my head downward, until my
proboscis rested upon the revolving stone, and I felt its horrid
inroads upon that sensitive member. The first excoriation was severe.
I writhed and struggled to free myself, but the power which held me
was indomitable. Gradually the urchin relaxed in the rapidity of his
motions--the stone revolved slowly, and I saw that my torment was to
be a lingering one.
In the midst of their task the inhuman wretches began to chaunt songs
and incantations adapted to the horrid ceremony. I remember some
snatches of the ballads they sung. Never shall I forget them, for the
cruel mockery of their fiendish merriment was more galling than the
pain I endured, or the awful reflection that I must pass the rest of
my days the noseless object of pity and contempt. One of the stanzas
ran thus:
De man who hold he nose too high
Mus' be brought low:
Put him on de grinstone
And grind him off slow.
Wheel about, and turn about,
And wheel about slow;
And every time he wheel about
De nose must go.
I was at no loss to recognize in this a parody on a popular ballad by
James Crow, Esquire, very skilfully arranged for the piano-forte by
Mr. Zephaniah Coon; and I despised my tormentors the more for their
plagiarism and want of originality. At the end of each _refrain_, the
barbarians sent forth as a kind of supplementary chorus, shouts of
laughter, which seemed to come from their very souls. It was none of
your civilized _ha ha's_--nor your modish _he he's_--but the hearty,
pectoral _yeoh yeoh yeoh_ of the unsophisticated "_nigger_."
All this time my nose was gradually diminishing. The imp at the handle
turned it slowly but steadily; the grasp upon my shoulders was firm,
and the pressure upon my head was so heavy, that the inexorable stone
was fast penetrating flesh, cartilage and bone, and reducing to a
level the inequalities of my visage. This could not last forever; and
at length I felt that the sacrifice had been consummated--the friction
of the stone upon my cheeks, gave fearful evidence that what had been
a nose, existed no longer, and brought the horrid reflection that I
was noseless! That the pride of my countenance was gone, and forever!
The awful consciousness of my bereavement made me desperate, and
strung up my sinews to a gigantic effort for freedom and
revenge.--Suddenly the grasp upon my body was loosened, and as
suddenly the agents and the instrument of my torment vanished.
I awoke, covered with perspiration and in a mortal tremor. The cabin
was dark, and but for the snoring of my neighbors, I should not have
known where I was. My nose was still suffering a most uncomfortable
sensation, and I breathed with difficulty from some unknown
obstruction. Although instantly aware that, to use the language of
Molly Brown, I had merely "dreampt a dream," I instinctively lifted my
hand to my face to reassure myself that my nose remained in
undiminished amplitude and longitude. In searching for that
interesting feature, I found that it was eclipsed and borne down by
some weighty substance, which the sense of feeling soon informed me
was the ponderous fist of my Kentucky neighbor, who had in shifting
his position during his slumbers, unceremoniously thrust it into my
face. I was cramped for room, and tugged to rid myself of the
incumbrance, when its owner awoke.
"Halloo stranger!" said he, "you kick about like an eel out of water."
I explained to him the cause of my uneasiness, for which he briefly
asked my pardon; and re-adjusting himself, again fell asleep. I could
not follow his example, my mind being occupied in recalling the
incidents and sensations of my dream, which fully engaged my thoughts
until I was made aware, by the shouting and scampering upon deck, that
we had reached New York.
And now for the _moral_ which I promised my readers. It is this--Do
not think too much of your nose--or hold it too high,--lest it should
be brought to the grindstone in good earnest; and moreover, never
sleep in a steam boat cabin, where men are planted, like Indian corn,
_in rows_--if you can avoid it.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.