Eagle—The Affairs of this Strange, Eventful History Wound Up 220
_PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS._
The compilation of a history of any country is a serious matter, and
should not be entered upon rashly. Before undertaking the present work,
therefore, the author deliberated for twenty-nine years and six months,
and then, having consulted the best legal as well as medical
authorities, entered upon the task with fear and trembling. He hired a
vacant lot on Nassau street, and fenced it in, and there, surrounded by
the paraphernalia of literature and art, he went to work with pen and
pencil to jot down the leading incidents of American history to the best
of a somewhat defective memory.
The illustrations have been our chief care, though the letter-press will
be found equally reliable. It was our original plan to flavor these
pages with a spice of romance, but after a prolonged altercation with
Mr. Carleton, our publisher, we decided to adhere strictly to facts. If
the reader should happen to detect any slight anachronism in this work,
or has reason to suspect that the unities have been lost sight of in a
single instance, he will please notify us as early as possible.
When it first became noised abroad that we contemplated bringing out an
illustrated history of the United States we were deluged with letters
from a host of well-disposed persons, such as Thomas Carlyle, James
Parton, Wendell Phillips and others of more or less literary ability,
offering to “write up” to our pictures. Mr. Carlyle said he could do it
nights. But the public was not to be trifled with, so we resolved to put
our shoulder to the literary as well as the artistic wheel, as it were,
and we flatter ourselves we have demonstrated in these pages that truth
is more of a stranger than fiction.
Our task is completed, and we lay aside pen and pencil, feeling that we
have done the State a service and that a great load is off our mind. If
the work we have just completed shall run through several editions we
shall feel that the State has proved sufficiently grateful, and that a
still greater load is off our mind.
_CHAPTER I._
A FEW STUBBORN FACTS NOT WHOLLY UNCONNECTED WITH THE DISCOVERY OF
AMERICA.
The sun was just sinking below the western horizon on the evening of
September 11th, 1492, when a respectably dressed personage of sea-faring
appearance might have been seen occupying an elevated position in the
rigging of a Spanish ship, and gazing intently out over a vast expanse
of salt water upon what at first sight appeared to be an apple dumpling
of colossal proportions, but which upon more careful inspection
subsequently turned out to be a NEW WORLD.
We will not keep the reader longer in suspense; that sea-faring man was
CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS, and the object which attracted his attention was
AMERICA!
This adventurous person had sailed from the port of Palos, in Spain, on
the 3d of August with the avowed purpose of “seeing the world;” and who,
thinking he might as well see a new world while he was about it, sailed
in the direction of America.
[Illustration:
EUREKA!
]
For further particulars the reader is referred to the accompanying
sketch, which, with startling fidelity, portrays the scene at the
thrilling moment when a new continent bursts upon the bold navigator’s
vision. Pray cast your eye aloft and behold the great Christopher
discovering America as hard as ever he can. The flashing eye, the
dilating nostril, the heaving bosom, the trembling limbs, the thrilling
nerves, the heroic pose, all vigorously set forth in a style which
speaks volumes—nay, whole libraries for our artist’s graphic power and
knowledge of anatomy. We will next trouble the reader to let the eye
wander off to the dim distance, where the new world looms majestically
up, and stands out boldly against the setting sun, previously alluded
to, which illuminates the scene with golden splendor, and bathes the new
born continent in a flood of dazzling light.
If the patient reader will be good enough to examine this picture with a
powerful microscope, he will discover, standing upon the utmost
prominence of the new world, and in imminent danger of falling off, a
citizen of the country who welcomes the stranger with uplifted tomahawk
and a wild war-whoop.
Lifting our eyes skyward we see the American eagle soaring forth to meet
the great discoverer, with outstretched pinions, and bringing his whole
family with him. We confess that we, for one, cannot gaze upon this
scene without envying Mr. Columbus the luxury of his emotions and
wishing we knew where there was a new world lying around loose that we
might go right off and discover it.
_CHAPTER II._
IN WHICH THE EARLY LIFE OF THIS MAN COLUMBUS IS INQUIRED
INTO—DISAPPOINTED PARENTS—THE BANE OF
GENIUS—“POOH-POOH!”—CONVINCING ARGUMENTS.
Christopher Columbus was born at Genoa in Italy, a country chiefly
famous for its talented organ-grinders. The youthful Christopher soon
made the melancholy discovery that he had no talent in that direction.
His tastes then rather took a scientific turn. This was a sad blow to
his fond parents, who _did_ hope their son would take a turn at the
hurdy-gurdy instead.
His aged father pointed out that Science was low and unprofitable,
Geology was a humbug, Meteorology and Madness were synonymous terms, and
Astronomy ought to be spelled with two S’s.
In vain his doting mother gently sought to woo him to loftier aims, and,
in the fondness of a mother’s love, even presented him with a toy
barrel-organ which played three bars of “Turn, sinner, turn,” in the
hope that it might change the whole current of his life; but the
undutiful child immediately traded it off to another boy for a bamboo
fishing rod, out of which he constructed a telescope, and he used to lie
upon his back for hours, far, far into the night, catching cold and
scouring the heavens with this crude invention. One night his
sorrow-stricken parents found him thus, and they knew from that moment
that all was lost!
[Illustration:
_EARLY AQUATIC TENDENCIES EVINCED BY COLUMBUS._
]
Our hero took to the water naturally very early in life. Let the youth
of America remember this. Let the youth of every land who contemplate
discovering new worlds remember that strong drink is fatal to the
discovery business; for it is our candid opinion, that, had Christopher
Columbus taken to, say strong coffee in his very earliest infancy, the
chances are that America would never have had a Centennial, and these
pages had never been written. Two circumstances which the stoutest heart
among us cannot for a moment contemplate without a shudder.
When Columbus reached man’s estate he became a hard student, and spent
the most of his time in his library,
“Reading books that never mortal
Ever dared to read before.”
[Illustration:
_COLUMBUS AMONG HIS BOOKS._
]
His mind, consequently, soared beyond the pale of mere existing facts
and circumstances, and sought to fold its eager pinions on lofty
roosting places yet undiscovered.
And thus it was, that, after revolving the matter in his mind for forty
years or more, Columbus arrived at the conclusion that the earth was
round, not flat, (as was the popular belief at that time,) and boldly
said so in round terms. People called him a lunatic, an original
character, and other harsh names, and otherwise pooh-pooh’d the idea.
But Columbus not only adhered to his theory, but went so far as to
assert that by sailing due west from Europe you would, if you kept on
sailing, bring up somewhere in eastern Asia.
[Illustration]
“Oh, come now, Christopher! really, this is going to far!” is what
public opinion said, and when our hero petitioned the Italian Congress
to fit out an expedition and let him prove his theory, it magnanimously
offered to set him up in business with a first-class barrel-organ and an
educated monkey cashier on condition of his leaving the country once for
all; but Columbus, expressing his regret for his lack of musical
ability, declined this generous offer and turned with a sigh to other
governments for assistance. Finally, after fifteen years of effort, he
succeeded in convincing Queen Isabella of Spain that there was an
undiscovered country beyond the seas, overflowing with milk and honey,
which it would be worth while to “work up.” He proved his theory with
the aid of an egg, (which he made stand on end,) an old Boston City
Directory, and a ground plan of Philadelphia, (see school books,) and
demonstrated to the good lady’s entire satisfaction that she might
realize largely by fitting out an expedition and let him at its head go
and discover it.
So conclusive were these arguments to the mind of Queen Isabella that
the good old soul allowed him to fit out an expedition at his own
expense, and gave him _carte blanche_ to discover America as much as he
wanted to. We have seen how well he succeeded. All this took place three
hundred and eighty-three years, four months, and five days ago, but it
seems to us but yesterday.
Ah! how time flies!
_CHAPTER III._
TREATS OF OTHER DISCOVERIES AND DOES GREAT CREDIT TO THE AUTHOR’S
SENSE OF JUSTICE.
On the return of Columbus to Spain, he published a map of his voyage in
one of the illustrated papers of the day. Through the courtesy of the
publishers of that paper we are enabled to place this map before our
readers.
[Illustration:
_MAP OF COLUMBUS ROUTE_
_DRAWN BY CHRIS HIMSELF_
]
Here it is translated from the original Spanish. If the gentle reader
can make head or tail of it he is more gentle even than we had at first
supposed. The publication of this map at the time naturally inspired
others with the spirit of adventure, and discovering America became
quite the rage. Indeed, so common were voyages of discovery to the New
World, that only one besides that of Columbus is deemed of sufficient
note to find a place in this history. We allude to that of Americus
Vespucius.
This gentleman, who was a Florentine by birth, made a voyage to South
America in 1499. He wrote sensational letters to the papers describing
his voyage and the country, which were afterwards published in book form
by a German geographer, who gave the name “America” to the New World,
but this history cheerfully accords to [1]Christopher Columbus the
imperishable glory of finding out the roosting-place of the American
eagle.
Footnote 1:
Mr. Columbus is better known as the author of that soul-stirring
melody, “Hail Columbia!”
_CHAPTER IV._
HAVING TO HIS ENTIRE SATISFACTION SETTLED THE QUESTION AS TO WHO
DISCOVERED AMERICA, THE AUTHOR PROCEEDS TO SETTLE THE COUNTRY
ITSELF—JOHN SMITH IS MENTIONED—JOHN SMITH ON THE ROSTRUM—JOHN
SMITH IN DIFFICULTIES—THE PLOT THICKENS AS FAR AS J. SMITH IS
CONCERNED—THE DEATH PENALTY—SLOW MUSIC—* * * * SAVED!
It was a century or more after the events narrated in the last chapter
before any attempt was made to establish a colony in America, or before
civilization got any permanent foothold.
[Illustration]
In 1606 a certain “London company” got out a patent on Virginia, and the
next year sent over a ship-load of old bachelors to settle its claim.
They landed at Jamestown in the month of May, and here the wretched
outcasts went into lodgings for single gentlemen.
The whole country was a howling wilderness, overrun with Indians, wild
beasts and Jersey mosquitoes.
These hardy pioneers had come to an unexplored region with a vague,
general idea that they were to dig gold, trade with the Indians, get
enormously rich and return home. So sanguine were they of speedy success
that they planted nothing that year. The few sandwiches they had brought
with them were soon consumed, the gold did not “pan out,” the Indians
drove very hard bargains, offering a ready market for hair, but giving
little or nothing in return.
[Illustration:
_A BUSINESS TRANSACTION._
]
To make matters worse, the Fevernager, a terrible disease of the period,
got among them, and by fall only a handful of the colonists remained,
and these were a very shaky lot indeed, with not clothing enough among
them to wad a shot-gun.
Among this seedy band was one John Smith, who, being out of funds
himself, and a public spirited person withal, saw that unless provisions
could be obtained shortly, the scheme of colonizing America would be a
failure.
[Illustration:
_John Smith on the Rostrum._
]
He went into the lecture field, holding forth to large and fashionable
audiences, composed of intelligent savages, upon the science of
navigation, illustrating his lecture with an old mariner’s compass that
indicated all four of the cardinal points at once, and a superannuated
bulls-eye watch that would do nothing but tick. These simple-minded
children of nature listened with attentive ears, and looked on with
wondering eyes, and came down largely with green corn, sardines, silk
hats, hard boiled eggs, fall overcoats, pickled oysters, red
handkerchiefs, ice cream, dried herring, kid gloves, pickled tripe, and
other Indian luxuries, which proved invaluable to the starving,
threadbare colonists. Thus it is seen that Mr. Smith obtained on
_tick_[2] what he had no cash to pay for.
Footnote 2:
The reader may occasionally find this sort of thing in these pages but
he is entreated not to be startled.
Although Mr. Smith was regarded as a talented man from a scientific
point of view, and was even mentioned in the native papers as
undoubtedly a god, yet he was sometimes grossly misunderstood by these
artless aborigines, and on one occasion they arrested him on a general
charge of hocus-pocus or witchcraft, and carried him before Chief
Justice Powhatan to be tried for his life.
The jury brought in a verdict of “guilty” on all the counts, and the
hapless Smith was condemned to death. His counsel did all they could to
establish an alibi, but in vain. It was a clear case; a fair trial had
been given their pale brother and he must suffer the penalty. As a last
resort, Mr. Smith offered, first, his bull’s-eye watch, and finally, the
old mariner’s compass, for his life, but Judge Powhatan could not see
the point. He had never seen a white man die, and was panting for a new
sensation. He therefore ordered the entertainment to proceed without
more delay.
Having previously had his scalp removed, the doomed man thanked his
captors for all their kindness, and requesting the executioner to make a
good job of it, placed his head upon the fatal block. The dread
instrument of death was uplifted, and Mr. Smith was really apprehensive
that his time had come. He closed his eyes and whistled the plaintive
air,
“Who will care for my mother-in-law now?”
There was a hush of pleasant anticipation—a deadly silence—you might
have heard a pin drop—indeed, you might have heard ten pins drop.
* * * * *
At this supreme moment Pocahontas, the beautiful and accomplished
daughter of Judge Powhatan, appeared upon the scene, tastefully dressed
as a ballet girl, and using some pretty strong arguments with her
father, obtained from him a stay of proceedings, and the prisoner’s life
was spared.
[Illustration:
_POCAHONTAS SAVING THE LIFE OF CAPTAIN SMITH_
]
Powhatan apologized to Mr. Smith for the loss of his hair, and
handsomely offered to buy him a wig. John admitted that it was rather a
closer shave than he had been accustomed to, but at the same time he
begged the learned gentleman not to mention it, and made the best of his
way back to Jamestown laden with presents, which were subsequently
stolen by the donors.
Many persons look upon this incident as apocryphal, but we are prepared
to assure them upon personal knowledge of its truthfulness. For, during
a brief but bloodless campaign in Virginia in 1864, whither we had gone
as a gory “hundred day’s man” to put down the Rebellion, sixteen
different identical spots were pointed out to us where Pocahontas saved
the life of Captain Smith.
If there be any lingering doubt in the mind of any one we point him in
triumph to any of our ably written city directories, the careful perusal
of which will convince the most sceptical mind of Mr. Smith’s safety.
Pocahontas afterwards married a young English lord, (our American girls
marry titles whenever they get the chance,) and at last accounts was
doing very well.
Mr. Smith was elected president, by a large majority, of the little
colony, which began to thrive henceforth, and was soon reinforced by
other adventurers from England.
[Illustration:
SIC SEMPER TYRANNIS.
_GREAT SEAL OF VIRGINIA—SKETCHED ON THE SPOT._
]
In the fall of 1609 Mr. Smith was compelled to return to England on
account of a boil on his neck, or to have a tooth drawn, we forget
which—but that is a mere detail.
Virginia became a fixed fact, and in 1664 was ceded to the Crown of
Great Britain, which maintained jurisdiction over it until about the
year 1776. On page 42 we reproduce the great Seal of Virginia. The
allegory is so strikingly and beautifully obvious as to need no further
elucidation.
_CHAPTER V._
TREATS OF THE EARLY HISTORY OF MASSACHUSETTS AND MAKES MENTION OF A
PILGRIM FATHER OR TWO, ALSO SHOWS WHAT A GOOD MEMORY THE AUTHOR
HAS FOR DATES.
Massachusetts was first settled by Pilgrim Fathers who sailed from
England in the year 1620 on board the _May Flour_, giving directions to
the captain to set them down at some place where they could enjoy
religious freedom, trusting rather to his knowledge of Navigation than
of Theology to land them at the right place.
[Illustration:
_LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS_
]
Thinking wild savages least likely to entertain pronounced religious
prejudices, the captain of the _May Flour_ bethought him of America, and
landed them hap-hazard at Plymouth, Massachusetts, on the 21st of
December, 1620. The Pilgrims made themselves as comfortable on Plymouth
Rock as possible, and formed a treaty with the Indians which lasted
several days.
The accompanying sketch not only accurately illustrates the event just
narrated, but gives us a faithful and striking portrait of each of the
Pilgrim Fathers, which will be immediately recognized by all their
acquaintances. The drawing is made from a photograph taken on the spot
by an artistic Pilgrim, who brought his camera with him, hoping to turn
a penny by photographing the natives. We may here incidentally remark
that his first native “subject,” dissatisfied with the result of a
“sitting,” scalped the artist and confiscated his camera, which he
converted into a rude sort of accordion. This instrument was the cause
in a remote way of the ingenious native’s death, for he was promptly
assassinated by his indignant neighbors. Let the young man over the way,
who has recently traded his mother’s flat-irons for a concertina, take
warning.
[Illustration:
_THE PILGRIM FATHERS CONVERTING A QUAKER_
]
As some of our readers may not know what a Pilgrim Father is, and as it
is the business of this book to make straight all the crooked paths of
history, we beg to state that a Pilgrim Father is a fellow who believes
in _hard-money_ piety, if we may be allowed the expression, and with
whom no paper substitute will pass current. All others are counterfeit,
and none genuine without the signature, “Puritan.”
Having come so far to enjoy religious freedom, the Puritans took it
unkind if any one ventured to differ with them. Our illustration shows
their style of reforming Quakers in 1656. They used, as will be seen, a
very irresistible line of argument, and the dissenting party thus
“dealt” with generally found it useless to combat old-established
prejudices.
It is not for the unimpassioned historian to comment upon such a system
of orthodoxy. We will say, however, that the Puritans _meant_ well, and
were on the whole worthy sort of persons. At any rate, Plymouth Rock was
a success, and may be seen to this day (with certain modifications) in
the identical spot where the Pilgrim Fathers found it.
_CHAPTER VI._
CONNECTICUT—INDIAN DEFINITION EXTRAORDINARY—WHAT THE DUTCH THOUGHT
OF THE ENGLISH, AND WHAT THE ENGLISH THOUGHT OF THE DUTCH—STORY OF
THE CHARTER OAK—WOODEN NUTMEGS INVENTED.
Connecticut is an Indian word and signifies _Long River_. We know,
because all the Indian dictionaries we ever read right through give this
definition.
In 1636, if our memory serves us, Connecticut was claimed by both the
Dutch and English, who had a long dispute about it. Neither faction
comprehended what the dispute was about, as the Dutch did not understand
English nor the English Dutch. All the Dutch knew was that their
antagonists were _tam Yankees_, and the latter were equally clear that
theirs were _blarsted Dutchmen_ in the worst sense of the word, and thus
the matter stood when, fortunately, an interpreter arrived through whom
the quarrel was conducted more understandingly. It ended in favor of the
English.
The Dutch, it would appear, turned out to be less blarsted than was at
first supposed, and, shaking the dust from their wooden shoes, emigrated
to New Jersey.
In the year 1636 it occurred to King Charles II to grant Connecticut a
charter, which, considered _as_ a charter, was a great hit. It gave the
people the power to govern themselves. Whenever a Connecticutian
traveled abroad folks said, “There goes the Governor of Connecticut,”
and he really felt himself a man of consequence.
This charter was afterwards annulled by King James II on his accession
to the throne, who feared, no doubt, that the people of Connecticut
would govern themselves too much, as the population was increasing
rapidly. He appointed a Governor from among his poor relations and sent
him over to take charge of Connecticut.
Connecticut it seems rather took care of him than otherwise. He varied
the monotony of a brief public career by making sundry excursions on
rail-back, if we may be allowed the expression, under the auspices of an
excited populace. He found the climate too hot to be agreeable,
particularly as his subjects presented him with a beautiful Ulster
overcoat of cold tar and goose feathers, and common politeness compelled
him to wear it. Need we say the new Governor begged to be recalled?
In the meantime the charter given by Charles II was not destroyed. It
was taken care of by Captain Wadsworth, who hid with it in a hollow oak
tree, where he remained until the death of the despotic James, which,
fortunately, was only about four years, when King William, a real nice
man, ascended the throne, and he sat down and wrote to Captain
Wadsworth, begging he would not inconvenience himself further on his
(William’s) account. It was then that the Charter Oak gave back the
faded document and Captain Wadsworth, both in a somewhat dilapidated
condition.
[Illustration:
_SECRETING THE CHARTER._
]
While confined in the hollow tree the Captain beguiled the tedium of
restricted liberty by inventing the wooden nutmeg, a number of which he
whittled out of bits of wood taken from the walls of his prison. He
subsisted almost exclusively upon these during the four years of his
voluntary incarceration, and immediately after his release got out a
patent on his invention, which he afterwards “swapped” off to a
professor in Yale College, who, we understand, made a handsome fortune
out of it.
Thus it ever is that patriotism and self-abnegation for the public weal
meets with ample reward.
_CHAPTER VII._
RHODE ISLAND—ROGER WILLIAMS “DEALT” WITH—A DESPERATE DISSENTER.
Rhode Island was first settled by a desperate character named Roger
Williams, who was banished by the Puritans from Massachusetts because he
entertained certain inflammatory views decidedly antagonistic to the
enjoyment of religious freedom, namely: that all denominations of
Christianity ought to be protected in the new colony.
[Illustration:
_THE APOSTACY OF ROGER WILLIAMS_
]
This, of course, was mere heresy upon the face of it, and our
forefathers proceeded to “deal” with Brother Williams in the true
Puritanic style, when the misguided man bade them a hasty farewell and
left on the first train for Rhode Island.
He brought up in a camp of Narragansett Indians, whom he found more
liberal in their religious views.
The blind and bigoted Williams, with a few other renegades from the
Puritan stronghold, established a colony at the head of Narragansett
Bay, which they called Providence.
Other settlements soon sprang up, and the hardened sinner Williams went
to England and obtained a charter which united all the settlements into
one colony.
At the beginning of the Revolution Rhode Island had a population of
50,000 blinded bigots.
_CHAPTER VIII._
NEW HAMPSHIRE—SLIM PICKING—AN EFFECTIVE INDIAN POLICY—JOHN SMITH
AGAIN COMES OUT STRONG.
New Hampshire was a sickly child from the first, and of somewhat
uncertain parentage. It was claimed by many proprietors, who were
continually involved in lawsuits. Its soil was not very fertile, and
yielded little else than Indians and lawyers. The former were the most
virulent of which any of the colonies could boast, and the latter were
of the young and “rising” sort.
[Illustration:
_A NEW HAMPSHIRE PLANTATION IN COLONIAL TIMES_
]
These two elements managed to make it extremely lively for the average
colonist, who was scalped upon the one hand and “skinned” upon the
other. At first the horny-handed son of toil fondly hoped to raise corn,
but owing to the poverty of the soil it was a day’s journey from hill to
hill, and as much as a man’s scalp was worth to undertake to travel it.
At harvest time there was an immense crop of cobble stones and no market
for it.
Fortunately, in time the lawyers became starved out, but two great
drawbacks to prosperity yet remained; sterility of soil and hostile
Indians.
But the time was at hand when both these evils were to be remedied. His
name was Smith—John Smith, of course—who readily undertook the contract
of not only exterminating the Indians, but of fertilizing the soil.
To accomplish the first of these great ends, he disguised himself as a
medicine man, and went boldly among the noble red men, inducting them
into the mysteries of the manufacture and consumption of New England
rum. He found them apt pupils, and it was not long before every Red of
them, from the biggest sachem to the latest papoose, could not only
distill his own fire-water, but drink it, too.
There was soon a very noticeable thinning out in the ranks of the noble
red men, and a good deal was said about the setting sun.
The fire-water did its work thoroughly, and the colonists were at length
masters of the situation so far as Indians were concerned.
The next thing was to make the land productive. This was a more
laborious and tedious undertaking than the first, but John Smith was
equal to the emergency. He caused dirt to be carted from a neighboring
State until the rocky surface of New Hampshire was completely covered
with a rich sandy loam a foot or two deep. The people raised “some
pumpkins” after that, we are informed.
Thus was agriculture established on a solid basis, and New Hampshire
made rapid progress.
All honor to John Smith.
_CHAPTER IX._
SOME UNRELIABLE STATEMENTS CONCERNING THE EARLY HISTORY OF NEW
YORK—TRACES OF A GREAT UNDERTAKING—ADVANCE IN REAL ESTATE—“LOOK
HERE UPON THIS PICTURE, AND ON THIS.”
New York was discovered in 1609 by one Henry Hudson, an Englishman by
birth, but to all intents and purposes a Dutchman, being then in the
service of Holland.
Immediately on his arrival he began the work of building a bridge across
the East river, which, it is feared, he never was able to finish. Traces
of this quaint structure are plainly to be seen to this day, and have
been known, time out of mind, as the “New East River Bridge.”
Manhattan Island, upon which New York now stands, was settled by the
Dutch, who called it New Netherlands (afterwards New Amsterdam). They
bought it of the Indians, paying for the entire island the fabulous sum
of twenty-five dollars, and liquidated the purchase with fire-water; but
that was before the panic, when there was more “confidence” in business
circles than now, and there had been as yet no inflation talk.
New York has changed hands since then, and we understand the property
has enhanced in value somewhat. We doubt very much if the island could
be bought to-day for double the price originally paid for it, even the
way times are now.
[Illustration:
_NEW YORK IN 1620_
]
[Illustration:
_NEW YORK IN 1876_
]
Any one comparing the two pictures accompanying this chapter will see
how marvelously we have improved since the days of the Dutch. No. 1 is
copied from an old print, dating back to 1620, and is warranted wholly
reliable. It is undoubtedly the Sabbath day, for in the foreground is
seen an influential citizen of the period, who has come down to the
Battery to meditate and fish for eels. He is thinking “How many ages
hence will this, his lofty scene, be acted over.” Presently he will
catch an eel.
Sketch No. 2 is of more recent origin, and was taken from our artist’s
window. When this picture was first drawn the Brooklyn pier of the
bridge was plainly discernible in the background. But since then our
landlord, who is a German, and conducts a restaurant on Teutonic
principles on the ground floor, has humanely run up a vent-pipe from his
kitchen opposite our window, which necessarily excludes the picturesque
ruin of the bridge from view. The reader will observe that nothing is
now visible but a tall square sheet iron tube and an overpowering sense
of garlic, which destroy at once our view and our appetite.
_CHAPTER X._
A FLOOD OF HISTORICAL LIGHT IS LET IN UPON NEW JERSEY—ABORIGINES—THE
FIRST BOARDING HOUSE—ORGAN-GRINDING AS A FINE ART.
Not many generations ago New Jersey was a buzzing wilderness—howling
would be a misnomer, as the tuneful mosquito had it all to himself.
“His right there was none to dispute.”
The tuneful mosquito was, in fact, your true New Jersey aboriginal, and
we do not hesitate to assert that the wilderness buzzed. But the time
came at last when the wilderness of New Jersey was to have something
else to do.
[Illustration]
In the year (confound it! what year was it now?) a select company of
colonists landed at Hoboken, led by one Philip Carteret. The latter
carried with him a large supply of agricultural implements to remind the
colonists that they must rely mainly upon the cultivation of cabbages,
and devote their energies more or less to the manufacture of Apple Jack
for their livelihood. But he soon saw his error, and immediately cabled
over for a supply of mosquito nets to instill into their minds the axiom
that “self-preservation is the first law of nature.”
Mr. Carteret opened a boarding house in Hoboken, to be conducted on
strictly temperance principles, and devoted his leisure to the
civilizing of the aborigines; but his efforts in this direction were
crowned with but partial success.
It is an historical, but not the less melancholy fact, that the
aboriginal inhabitants of any country become effete as civilization
advances. And thus it happens that, although the mosquito has been
handed down to us in modern times, we only behold him in a modified
form. That he has not yet entirely lost his sting, the compiler of this
work personally ascertained during a four years’ exile in Hoboken. For
all that the Jersey mosquito of to-day is but an echo, as it were, of
his ancestor of colonial times. How thankful should we be then that we
were not early settlers.
Hoboken is the capital of New Jersey, and is principally inhabited by
Italian barons in disguise, who consecrate their lives exclusively to
the study of that king of musical instruments, the barrel-organ.
The Elysian Fields, just north of Hoboken, is a sylvan retreat where the
elite of the adjacent cities congregate on Sunday afternoons to play
base-ball and strew peanut shells o’er the graves of departed
car-horses.
_CHAPTER XI._
PENNSYLVANIA SEEN THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY—WM. PENN STANDS TREAT—A
STRIKING RESEMBLANCE—HOW TO PRESERVE THE HAIR.
The first colony of Pennsylvania was founded in 1682 by Wm. Penn, a
Quaker gentleman of steady habits, who, with remarkable foresight
settled at Philadelphia, because he thought it an eligible place to hold
a Centennial Exhibition. He took out naturalization papers, and began by
studying the prejudices of the natives with a view to getting upon the
good side of them. He smoked the calumet of peace with them and treated
them to hard cider, under the mellowing influence of which they said he
was like “Onas.” How well he deserved this compliment the reader will
comprehend at once by reference to the accompanying illustration. The
coincidence of resemblance is indeed striking, though it must be
admitted he is not unlike a cigar sign either.
[Illustration:
_PENN’S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS_
]
Wm. Penn bought property in Philadelphia, where he resided for
thirty-six years, getting along very well with the neighbors. In proof
of which we may mention that in 1718 he went back to England very well
off indeed, where he died and was buried in his own hair.
_CHAPTER XII._
MARYLAND SETTLED—WHAT’S IN A NAME?—PECULIAR MONETARY SYSTEM.
Lord Baltimore was the oldest inhabitant of Maryland. He named it after
Mrs. Charles II, whose maiden name was Henrietta Maria.
The name _Henrietta Marialand_ was found rather unhandy for so small a
province, so he afterwards cut it down to _Maryland_.
The first settlement was made at the mouth of the Potomac river by a
colony of English ladies and gentlemen. They lived chiefly upon green
corn and tobacco, which they cultivated in large quantities. When they
ran out of funds the latter staple became their currency—the leaf
tobacco being the paper money or “greenbacks,” and the same dried, mixed
with molasses and pressed into blocks or “plugs,” represented specie or
“hard money.” During the growth of the crop it was customary for the
capitalist to dig up his stalks every night before going to bed,
(previously watering them,) and lock them up in a patent burglar-proof
safe, getting up before sunrise next morning to replant them.
The inflation or depression of the money market depended more or less
upon the success of the tobacco crop, and as the soil was new there was
seldom a panic. One phase of the old Maryland monetary system is
graphically set forth on page 79.
[Illustration:
“_LIQUIDATION_”
]
_CHAPTER XIII._
TWO BIRDS KILLED WITH ONE STONE—A COLORED CITIZEN DECLARES HIS
INTENTIONS—IN SETTLING NORTH AND SOUTH CAROLINA THE AUTHOR IS
HIMSELF UNSETTLED.
The early history of the Carolinas has few cheerful phases. The first
settlers were Puritans, who, finding the business unprofitable, sold out
and went to speculating in real estate. Preyed upon by speculators and
Indians, as Carolina was, few inducements were held out to emigrants of
good moral character. Happily, however, about the beginning of the
eighteenth century a distinguished colored gentleman poetically but
forcibly announced his intention of emigrating to North Carolina “Wid de
banjo on his knee,”—or was it Alabama? perhaps it was, but no matter. We
are positive as to the banjo at any rate. It is a matter of regret that
he selected so unagricultural an instrument to begin life with in a new
colony.
[Illustration:
_A suppositious Early Settler of SOUTH CAROLINA._
]
On page 81 we give a reliable portrait of this individual of color.
[Illustration:
_GEORGIAN EMIGRANTS_
]
_CHAPTER XIV._
GEORGIA—SLAVERY—A DARK SUBJECT.
Georgia was first settled in 1732 by one hundred and twenty emigrants
(not to mention a surreptitious yellow dog that followed them over) led
by James Oglethorpe.
Civilization advanced but slowly at first owing to the prohibition of
rum and slavery. Twenty years later, however, Georgia was annexed to the
Crown, and these two civilizing influences were brought to bear upon
society. Georgia made rapid strides after that.
_CHAPTER XV._
ENGLISH VS. FRENCH—PURSUIT OF BULL-FROGS UNDER DIFFICULTIES—TRUTH
STRANGER THAN FICTION.
Although the English were the oldest inhabitants, it would seem they
were not to hold their new possessions undisputed.
The fame of the fledgeling continent spread abroad, and people all over
the world packed up their loins and girdled their traveling bags for a
journey hither. Even France was suddenly seized with the emigrating
fever, and soon became England’s principal rival in the new country.
She had heard of the American bull-frog as being the largest in the
world, and ere long the banks of the Mississippi from its source to the
Gulf were studded with huts whose owners had left their homes in sunny
France in quest of frogs and freedom in a foreign clime.
Perched on yonder oscillating snag in midstream, or wading waist deep in
the dismal bayou, armed with fishing tackle, his bronzed forehead
furrowed with care and his hook baited with red flannel, the sanguine
Gaul sought to tempt the sonorous bull-frog from his native lair. Too
often, alas! he surprised the aggressive alligator in _his_ native lair,
fatally mistaking him for a first-class bull-frog of some rare species.
Many an unwary Frenchman was taken in thus, but frogs were hunted with
unabated vigor, and every day brought ship-loads of enthusiastic
adventurers from the sunny land of France.
So long as the Frenchmen confined themselves to the frogs, (and the
alligators confined themselves to the Frenchmen,) their English brethren
tolerated them; but when it came to starting opposition corner
groceries, and organizing competitive horse-railway companies, (which
the French occasionally stepped aside from their legitimate pursuits to
do,) they became a positive nuisance, you know. Besides the alligators
did not always discriminate between English and French diet. If
anything, the epicures of the species seemed to give preference to the
former when any train of fortuitous circumstances threw an occasional
Englishman in their way.
[Illustration:
_ENGLISH VS FRENCH._
]
The duty of the English seemed plainly indicated to them, and they,
being in the majority, were not slow in acting up to it, by bringing to
bear upon their rivals what may be termed an alligator policy. But we
leave the rest to our artist, who with a few dashes of his pencil on
page 88 has saved us reams of manuscript and barrels of ink. He merely
wishes us to explain that the parties on the wharf in the last picture
are English, with one exception.
_CHAPTER XVI._
THE NAVIGATION ACTS—ILLICIT TOOTHPICKS—A CARGO OF TEA UNLOADED—PORK
AND BEANS AS A BEVERAGE—RUMORS OF WARS.
Having seen civilization comfortably settled in its new home, let us see
how it conducted itself.
In the year 1660 certain bills were lobbied through the English
Parliament which were highly obnoxious to the American colonies then
established in Virginia. These were called the Navigation Acts, and
prohibited the colonists from sending their pigs to any other market
than England, nor allowed them to purchase any article of commerce, not
even a toothpick, from any other country, and even that commodity must
be ordered from the King himself and delivered in English vessels. If
any ingenious colonist was caught whittling a pine splinter or a lucifer
match to a point he was looked upon as an outlaw and taken home to
England in irons to answer the charge of manufacturing illegal
toothpicks. The Navigation Acts were swallowed by the colonists with wry
faces for a century or so, and they were beginning to get used to it.
But when one fine day the Mother Country invented a new dish, called the
“Stamp Act,” and began to ladle it out the docile colonists entered
their gentle protest.
The Stamp Act provided that the pigs and toothpicks must all bear the
government stamp—the stamps, of course, to be paid for by the colonists.
The latter held town meetings, and the district schoolmaster made
inflammatory speeches denouncing the British Parliament; the provincial
editor hurled defiance in the face of the Crown in a double-leaded
article, which he marked with a blue lead pencil and sent to the royal
address with his own handwriting. The Crown turned pale, and immediately
ordered the Stamp Act to be repealed. It was hoped that this concession
would put an end to all hard feelings that had for a long time existed
between Parliament and the Town Council of Boston. But now the cry was
raised of “No Taxation without Representation,” and when one day the
news reached Boston that there had been a duty imposed on tea, people
took a sudden dislike for that beverage. They said the stamps spoiled
the flavor for them, and refused to use it.
As a substitute they consoled themselves with a peculiar infusion called
porkinbeans, a well-known Boston beverage.
One day a ship-load of “Best English Breakfast” arrived at the wharf,
and all Boston picturesquely arrayed in Indian costume turned out to
unload it. In the excitement of the moment the caddies were accidentally
tossed over the wrong side of the ship, the stamps having previously
been canceled by the absent-minded citizens.
Great Britain immediately sent over several ship-loads of troops, but
these were scarcely less obnoxious than the cargo of stamped tea,
especially as they asked some very embarrassing questions relative to
the careless unloading of said cargo.
[Illustration:
_TEA OVERBOARD_
]
Patrick Henry, a member of the Virginia Legislature, took it upon
himself to return a rather evasive answer by “repeating it, sir, WE MUST
FIGHT!”
_CHAPTER XVII._
REVOLUTIONARY—A ROW AT CONCORD—A MASTERLY RETREAT—THE BRITISH COUNT
NOSES.
And we did fight.
The first gun was fired on the 19th of April, 1775, at Concord, where a
large and select assortment of explosives for celebrating the coming
Fourth of July was stored and guarded by a squad of minute-men.
A detachment of 3,000 British was sent to destroy these explosives.
“Disperse ye Rebels!” is what the British commander remarked.
[Illustration:
_RETREAT OF THE BRITISH._
]
“You’re another!” promptly replied the minute-men, and immediately
obeyed the order to disperse. They placed an unexpected construction
upon it, however, for they dispersed the British troops, who deemed it
expedient to saunter back to Charlestown, where they found on counting
noses that they were short some two hundred and eighty men.
This retreat of the British is one of the most brilliant on record, and,
if we can believe the illustration on the opposite page, was conducted
in a somewhat informal manner. The unstudied yet animated action of the
pedal extremities speaks of a pressing engagement suddenly remembered
that must not be neglected. There are certain anatomical peculiarities
in this picture of which the least said the better.
_CHAPTER XVIII._
FULL ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL—FALSE TEETH AND
HEROISM—ARE REPUBLICS UNGRATEFUL?
About two months after the events narrated in the last chapter the
battle of Bunker Hill took place, June 19, 1775. It was conducted by
General Bunker upon the American side, while one General Hill led the
British.
On this memorable occasion the Americans managed to destroy a thousand
or so of the enemy, and might have done better had their supply of
bullets held out. These becoming exhausted the noble fellows fell back
upon the brass buttons of their uniforms, which they fired at the
British as long as there was a button left among them.
The brave Bunker, when his stock of buttons gave out, bethought him of
his false teeth. He removed them from his mouth, and with fire in his
eye and a horse-pistol in his right hand, (holding on his buttonless
uniform with his left,) he turned upon the enemy a galling fire of
“store” teeth, and every one of them took effect, making sixteen of the
red-coats bite the dust.
In his official report of the battle which he sent to Congress the
heroic man avers: that, if there had been a dentist handy to extract
’em, he would have sacrificed every dashed natural tooth in his head for
the cause of Liberty.
[Illustration:
_PORTRAIT OF MR BUNKER_
_PORTRAIT OF MR HILL_
_BUNKER-HILL MONUMENT_
]
As a reward for his heroic conduct, Congress had him measured for a new
set of elegant silver-mounted molars, which it promised to present to
him some day with an appropriate inscription. And yet they say Republics
are ungrateful!
For further information regarding this great battle, see illustration.
There was a monument erected upon the spot to commemorate the battle,
and should you ever go to Boston you will probably be asked, “Have you
tried our baked beans, and have you seen Bunker Hill monument?”
_CHAPTER XIX._
STILL REVOLUTIONARY—THE FIRST FOURTH OF JULY TAKES PLACE—DECLARATION
OF INDEPENDENCE—AN ABLE DOCUMENT—PARLIAMENT IS MUCH MOVED AND GETS
OUT YELLOW HANDBILLS.
One hot sultry day in the summer of 1776 Thomas Jefferson eased his mind
in an essay called the Declaration of Independence, which said in effect
that the United Colonies of America had saved up money enough to start
in business for themselves, and henceforth there was to be no connection
with over the way. This document, dated July 4, 1776, was signed by John
Hancock and a few other members of Congress who had learned to write,
and was duly published in all the daily papers. We received a marked
copy of one of the papers in which it appeared at the time, and with a
sort of vague instinct that we might find it useful some day, cut it out
and preserved it with religious care. We reproduce it here in facsimile.
[Illustration]
It will be found to be a very readable article, and we advise our
readers to peruse it carefully, if they have to skip all the rest of the
book. The gentlemen who signed the Declaration have courteously
furnished us their autographs, which we also take the liberty of placing
before our readers.
When the attention of Parliament was accidentally called to this
article, in one of the papers above alluded to, its feelings may be more
readily imagined than described. And when that quaint old fossil
Disraeli put on his spectacles and read it “out loud” there was not a
dry eye in the house. Parliament cried like a child, or, more properly,
like a whole orphan asylum. Becoming calmer after awhile they got out
immense illustrated yellow posters, representing an enraged lion engaged
in bitter discussion with a sanguinary one-eared mule, and after stating
that this was the Lion and the Unicorn, the poster went on to say that
the Americans were rebels and humbugs, and further cautioned the public
against selling them goods on credit.
When these handbills were posted conspicuously and profusely on every
stone wall, barn, and rail-fence in America, the spirit of ’76 rose to
several per cent. above proof. War was declared, and General Washington
was appointed commander-in-chief of the Continental army.
He gave strict orders to place none but Americans on guard, while
England sent more troops to America, and expected every man to do his
duty.
_CHAPTER XX._
REVOLUTIONARY AS BEFORE—“PLACE NONE BUT AMERICANS ON GUARD
TO-NIGHT”—CHRISTMAS FESTIVITIES—ALMOST A VICTORY—A BRITISHER SHOWS
WASHINGTON GREAT DISRESPECT—WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE.
One dark, cold winter’s night General Washington issued very strict
orders indeed relative to guard mounting, and each sentinel had to
either show his naturalization papers or give affidavit of American
parentage.
The British hordes were encamped just across the Delaware river in
numbers greatly superior to the Americans, and were only waiting for the
river to freeze over in order that they might skate across and capture
the entire Continental army. As there was no immediate prospect of that,
however, owing to the mildness of the weather, and having much spare
time on their hands, the Britons improved their minds by the study of
High-low-Jack and other branches of science.
It was Christmas night, and the whole army had been celebrating the day
in good old English style. Every minion of them had inhaled more or less
commissary whisky, and as night approached had succumbed to its sedative
qualities.
General Washington saw how it would be, and announced his intention of
spending the evening out, without entering into further particulars. He
borrowed a log canoe of one of the neighbors and paddled across the
river amid floating ice and made the whole army prisoners. The
difficulty now arose of getting the booty home. The British army by
actual count turned out to be much larger than Washington had
anticipated, and he began to entertain serious doubts as to whether the
small canoe would accommodate so many.
While he stood thus enjoying his triumph, and deliberating as to what
course to pursue next, an able-bodied Britisher manifested unmistakable
symptoms of returning animation by raising himself on one elbow, and
demanding in a loud voice of the Father of his Country what the highly
colored blazes the blarsted old three-cornered pig-tail meant by loafing
about there, and then ordered him in an incoherent manner to “roll in
another bar’l, and be quick about it.”
With that coolness of deliberation which characterized all his public
acts, Washington hastily withdrew, leaving his prisoners to be called
for at some future time.
A few days later, taking advantage of a sudden cold snap, he crossed the
Delaware once more, taking a small army with him to assist in bringing
his prisoners home. The latter had so far recovered from the effects of
Christmas as to make a stout resistance, and the battle of Trenton took
place, resulting in favor of the Americans.
Washington crossing the Delaware furnished a very good subject for a
very bad painting, which may be seen among other bad paintings in the
Rotunda of the Capitol at Washington. At first sight this work of art
might be mistaken for an advertising dodge of some enterprising ice
company, but there is not the slightest doubt it is meant to bear a
historical, not a commercial significance.
[Illustration:
_WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE_
]
On page 112 will be found a reliable version of the incident briefly
sketched, which our artist is willing to work up in oil for the
Government if Congress will make a suitable appropriation and agree to
furnish a barrel of oil and a few acres of canvas.
Sealed proposals addressed to care of the publishers of this work will
be promptly considered.
_CHAPTER XXI._
MORE REVOLUTIONARY THAN EVER—LIVELY TIMES AT A WATERING-PLACE—THE
STARS AND STRIPES INVENTED.
On the 17th of October, 1777, General Washington surrounded and captured
the British army under Burgoyne at Saratoga, where they had been
spending the Summer, and where it strikes us they had remained rather
late in the season.
[Illustration:
_REDUCED STATE OF BURGOYNE’S ARMY AT SARATOGA._
]
The British were entirely out of provisions, and had been living
exclusively on congress water for some weeks past. Mr. Burgoyne had
written home to the Crown that, if the war was to be successfully
prosecuted in America, the army must be supplied with something more
filling for the price than mineral water. But he must have forgotten to
mail the letter, for no commissary stores arrived, and the soldiers
continued to subsist upon their aqueous diet. They were consequently
greatly reduced and fell an easy prey to the Americans.
That year Congress adopted the Stars and Stripes as the flag of the
United States,[3] which (with the addition of other stars from time to
time) has been handed down to grateful posterity, and to-day proudly
reveals to the youth of a free Republic the whereabouts of the circus
tent.
Footnote 3:
NOTE—This supplied a want long felt, as the army had hitherto rallied
round Mr. Washington’s red pocket handkerchief tied to a broom handle.
_CHAPTER XXII._
IMPRUDENT CONDUCT OF BENEDICT ARNOLD—A REAL ESTATE
SPECULATION—$50,000 THE PRICE OF LIBERTY (TERMS CASH)—MAJOR ANDRÉ
IS SERIOUSLY COMPROMISED—SUSPENSE—EVIL COMMUNICATION—A
TALE-BEARING YELLOW DOG.
It was in the fall of 1780 that one Benedict Arnold, being seriously
inconvenienced for want of funds, employed some very questionable means
of getting on his financial legs again. After laying his head together
for a spell, he resolved to realize on some real estate belonging to the
colonial government, and make a European tour on the proceeds.
He secretly negotiated with the British Commander, Lord Clinton, (then
at New York,) for the sale of a few acres at West Point, where he
(Arnold) happened to be in command, which he agreed to transfer to the
said Lord Clinton for and in consideration of $50,000 to him, the said
Arnold, paid in hand.
[Illustration:
_BENEDICT ARNOLD MEDITATING TREASON_
_Mr ARNOLD ABANDONS HIS PLANS_
_CAPTURE OF MAJOR ANDRÉ_
_MAJOR ANDRÉ ABANDONS HIS PLANS._
_M ANDRÉ IN A STATE OF SUSPENSE._
]
It is true, the property was occupied by Government as a military post
of some importance, and was the repository of valuable stores and
munitions of war, and besides the nucleus of the American army was
garrisoned there. But Arnold was too much of a man of business to let a
little drawback of that sort stand between him and a bargain. He said he
would throw all these in if the other party was willing. The other party
good-naturedly agreed to overlook all drawbacks, and sent his man
Friday, Major André, to close the bargain and bring the property home.
After a very pleasant interview with Arnold behind a haystack, which
resulted to the satisfaction of both, Major André started for New York
with the title-deed for the newly acquired property safely stowed away
in his left coat-tail pocket. He had proceeded some distance on his
journey when he was stopped by three American gentlemen whom he met, and
who, with that unhappy inquisitiveness to which their race is
notoriously predisposed, desired information as to whence he had come,
whither he was going, and what “line” he was in.
The Major, with great ingenuity, replied that he was a representative of
the press from New York, and had been to headquarters to interview
General Washington as to what he thought his chances were in the coming
presidential canvass, and whether he, as an honest man, really
considered himself a fit person to be entrusted with an army? and if it
were true, as had been represented, that he advocated the introduction
of the new breech-loading umbrellas into the army as a military measure?
whether he was not afraid of hurting himself with his sword, or putting
somebody’s eyes out by the careless habit he had of pointing out
beauties in the landscape (see equestrian portraits) with that weapon?
also whether he had any chewing tobacco?
However plausibly the Major’s account of himself might strike most
people, it failed to satisfy those to whom it was addressed.
They said they had at first merely looked upon him as a suspicious
character, but now, by his own confessed connection with the press, they
could not regard him in any other light than that of a very dangerous
person, to say the least, and they must trouble him to turn his pockets
inside out.
With tears in his eyes he took from his pockets an oroide watch, a
jackknife, and some Erie railway shares.
“Let me go hence,” he said, in a voice choked with emotion, “and these
shall be your guerdons; there is just a guerdon apiece. You can toss up
among you for the choice.”
But, although his captors happened to be wealthy capitalists, they
declined to add to their means at the expense of honor. They said
guerdons were out of their line, and demanded to know if he (the Major)
could discern anything of a verdant tinge in their optics. The Major
could not for the life of him. One of these low fellows then hinted that
he more than suspected the true nature of their (now) prisoner, and he
must be investigated, and further, by a very expressive pantomime
(catching himself by the throat, opening his eyes very wide, protruding
his tongue and breathing hard) tried to convey some idea of what would
happen if his suspicions should prove correct.
The gallant Major was never so mortified in his life before. He began to
wonder what would ever become of him if these vulgar persons into whose
hands he had fallen should really so far misconstrue his conduct as to
condemn him for a spy?
* * * * *
He was not kept long in suspense. (See illustration on page 119.)
There is one incident in connection with _André’s_ capture which has
always been unaccountably overlooked by other historians, and which if
we omitted in this place we should feel that we had not conscientiously
discharged our duty.
When Major André found himself a captive he felt that it would be very
desirable to communicate with Arnold before their transactions should be
made public. He also saw the impossibility of reaching him by telegraph,
as that means of correspondence was not to be invented until half a
century or more later, and to delay so long as that might be fatal.
While casting about for some means of giving warning to his friend, his
eye chanced to rest upon a specimen of the canine species of the yellow
persuasion belonging to one of his captors, and a ray of hope gleamed in
upon his soul.
They had halted for the night, intending to proceed with the prisoner to
headquarters next morning, and preparations were being made for supper.
An empty tin coffee-pot sat near the fire, and the yellow dog sat near
the tin coffee-pot blinking at the fire, his mind evidently absorbed in
some abstruse canine problem. By a curious, though perhaps natural
association of ideas, the Briton saw here the crude materials for
communicating with Arnold ready to his hand.
Pretending to make an entry in his diary he hastily scribbled off these
lines:
“Friend Benedict:
Owing to circumstances over which I have no control, I am unable to
take any further steps in that little matter of ours at present; the
boys have in point of fact scooped me. You would have been a better
man in my place. Hoping to meet you in the happy hunting grounds, I
am yours, in limbo,
ANDRÉ.
P.S.—By the way, hadn’t you better drop in upon our mutual friend
General Clinton at New York and remain with him for a few days until
it blows over? I only throw this out as a mere suggestion. Good bye.
A.”
Watching his opportunity when his captors’ backs were turned, the Major
slipped this epistle into the coffee-pot, clapped on the lid, and,
having diverted the canine’s attention by means of a piece of salt pork,
which had been originally laid out for the approaching meal, hastily
appended the tin vessel to his caudal extremity, and having with nice
precision turned the animal’s nose in the direction of Arnold’s tent, he
gave the tail an agonizing twist, and—and the party did without coffee
that night.
The yellow dog came duly to hand, and Mr. Arnold was not slow in acting
upon the hint contained in the message he brought. With that
long-headedness which is the characteristic of the true man of business
he anticipated any investigation of his conduct that might follow by
resigning and changing his residence at once. We learn that he
subsequently went to Europe, but up to the present writing has not yet
returned.
[Illustration:
_INSTANCE OF CANINE SAGACITY._
]
If any one doubts the incident we have just related about the way in
which the news of André’s capture reached Arnold, he has only to
narrowly scrutinize our illustration, which treats of the moment when
the sagacious quadruped reaches the American lines. With almost human
intelligence he overturns the sentinel, who, doubtful of the nature of
his business, has challenged his further progress.
For Mr. Arnold’s own sake we regret the imprudent course he pursued to
improve the state of his exchequer. It is true his funds were low, and
no one can blame him for wanting to make a “raise.” But then he ought to
have remembered that there are always honest as well as lucrative
pursuits open to the deserving poor involving but small investments; for
instance, he might have started a paper, peddled matches, got an
appointment in the Cabinet, blacked boots, organized savings banks, or
written comic histories.
We are aware that these invaluable suggestions come too late to apply
specifically to Mr. Arnold’s case, but we do hope that all who have
invested capital in this book will shape their course by the few hints
we have here thrown out, and above all remember that the plucking out of
even the tail feathers of the American Eagle for commercial purposes is
ever attended with risk.
* * * * *
On a more thorough investigation of the subject we learn that Benedict
Arnold is dead, and has been for some time; but he lives in American
history.
_CHAPTER XXIII._
THE AFFAIRS OF THE REVOLUTION WOUND UP—CORNWALLIS STEPS DOWN AND
OUT.
Cornwallis, commander of the British forces, placed his sword at the
disposal of General Washington on the 19th of October, 1781, and took
passage on the next steamer for Europe.
The final scene in the history of the war for American liberty is
graphically set forth on page 132. It is copied from a group of
wax-works illustrative of that event, and is, therefore, warranted
reliable.
The war was now virtually over, but it was not until two years later
that England signed a quit-claim deed resigning all right and title to
its American property.
[Illustration:
_SURRENDER OF CORNWALLIS_
]
The Continental army was disbanded, and returning to their homes the
soldiers hammered their muskets and things into plowshares and sold them
to the farmers. The battle fields were cut up into corner lots, and a
season of great prosperity began. Washington was elected President of
the young Republic, and gave great satisfaction in that capacity. His
second term having expired, he wrote an address of great literary merit
and retired to private life at Mount Vernon. He ingeniously forged a
little hatchet out of his sword for his little step-son, and taught him
how to chop down cherry trees with neatness and dispatch and own up to
it afterwards.
[Illustration:
_G. W. ENJOYING THE REPOSE OF PRIVATE LIFE._
]
_CHAPTER XXIV._
AN INCIDENT OF THE REVOLUTION.
It is always very noble and all that sort of thing when a nation or
individuals sacrifice anything for a principle. Sometimes such sacrifice
meets with immediate reward and sometimes the reward is delayed and the
parties making the sacrifice have to wait indefinitely for their pay. A
little incident which befel an ancestor of ours illustrates both these
propositions to some extent, and having a few moments to spare we are
tempted to relate it briefly, as follows.
[Illustration:
On one memorable occasion, in-pursuance of Washington’s famous order
to place none but Americans on guard, an ancestor of ours was
detailed to guard certain military stores. The missiles of
destruction, it will be noticed, were flying about in a style that
seemed more promiscuous than soothing to a nervous temperament.
]
[Illustration:
Accidents will happen in the best regulated families, and it certainly
was no fault of our ancestor that a shell, fired by unprincipled
Britons, struck the military stores aforesaid, destroying them, but,
beyond giving a severe shock to his nervous system, the projectile
did our ancestor no harm as it did not explode.
]
[Illustration:
As a reward for his valiant conduct, Washington begged our ancestor to
accept the unexploded shell, which the latter resolved to preserve
as a souvenir of the adventure and hand down to posterity.
]
[Illustration:
He carried it with him on many a weary march.
]
[Illustration:
’Tis true he found it a serious inconvenience ofttimes.
]
[Illustration:
But he remembered posterity and pressed on
]
[Illustration:
Here we see him handing the relic down to posterity.
]
[Illustration:
In after years posterity handed it over to an obnoxious female
relative, who irreverently used it as a candlestick.
]
[Illustration:
On one occasion obnoxious female relative imprudently went to sleep,
allowing the candle to burn low in its socket.
]
[Illustration:
Need we say that posterity’s obnoxious female relative got what she
had often given him,—a severe blowing up?
]
_CHAPTER XXV._
THIS HISTORY DABBLES IN POLITICS MUCH AGAINST ITS WISHES—PRELIMINARY
OBSERVATIONS—A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS AND PRESIDENTS—“LIVES OF GREAT
MEN ALL REMIND US.”
We have always from childhood’s hour instinctively recoiled from
politics, and have thus far managed to keep out of Congress. If with
equal success we can manage to keep out of jail for the rest of our
natural existence we shall feel that life has not altogether been a
failure. (This is what is called genuine broad American humor. If the
reader can find nothing in it to excite his risibilities after a
reasonable trial his money will be refunded.)
When it first reached the ears of the present Administration through the
Librarian of Congress, to whom we applied for a copyright, that we were
about to publish a history of our native land, we received per return
mail a letter signed by the Administration, asking us if we would accept
the appointment of U. S. Minister to the South Sea Islands. This office
had just been made vacant by the circumstance of the last incumbent
having participated in a public banquet given in honor of his arrival at
his consulate, and being himself the principal ingredient of a certain
savory _ragout_, his presence there, it would seem, proved fatal, and it
was his place which we were invited to supply.
We returned a somewhat evasive answer.
We never voted but once in our life, and that was at a presidential
election soon after reaching our majority. We voted for ——, but no
matter. To offend party prejudice at this time might be fatal to our
hopes. The day after the election we received a bill of two dollars for
“poll-tax,” which the collector said we owed and we had better pay or
have our body lodged in the county jail until we should call for it, and
settle up what was due on it to the State. The unprincipled man had
obtained our address from the registry books, and this our first
ebullition of patriotism cost us two dollars.
However much inclined we may be by nature and experience to avoid the
subject of politics as a rule, it now becomes our duty to make mention
of certain exponents of American politics, but whether to their
advantage or disadvantage will depend entirely upon the record they have
left behind them.
We take it for granted, (you may have noticed that a great deal is taken
for granted in this book,) that the reader is already acquainted with
the duties of the President of the United States. If not, let him lose
no time in reading up on the subject, for we are all liable at any
moment to be nominated to the office, and it would be dreadfully
mortifying not to know how to go to work.
We have seen in the preceding chapters how liberty was planted on
American soil, but the crop must be watched and taken care of, and for
this duty the office of PRESIDENT was created. Eighteen different
persons have successively undertaken the contract of guarding the crop
sown by our forefathers, and in one or two incidents, we regret to say,
these have turned out to be mere scarecrows, and sorry ones at that.
This scathing remark is not intended to apply to
GEORGE WASHINGTON,
who, as we have already shown, was the first President of the United
States, and who did as well as could be expected for a first attempt. In
fact, George did well whatever he undertook to do, and we have no
complaint to make in these pages against him.
On page 151 will be found some illustrated particulars concerning this
great man’s life, which our readers, young and old, will do well to
imitate. The series of silhouettes at the top of the page treat of the
Story of the Little Hatchet.
[Illustration]
No. 1. Here we see the Grandfather of his Country climbing a cherry tree
after cherries.
No. 2. His little son (afterwards Father of his Country) is here seen
chopping at said tree with his little hatchet.
No. 3. How should he know that the old man was up said tree, and if so,
what business had he up there anyhow?
No. 4. “I’ll let you know,” is what the old gentleman remarked. “I did
it with my little hatchet,” roared George as well as he could from his
embarrassing position, “but I’ll never do so no more!”
_Advice gratis._ When you chop down cherry trees wait until the old man
goes out of town.
No. 5. Gives us a fine view of the site of Washington’s birthplace, and
shows what an enterprising man Dr. Binks is.
No. 6. The crop of persons who have missed and otherwise remember
Washington is pretty good this year.
No. 7. Here we have a party who does _not_ remember Washington to any
great extent. Thinks he has heard the name somewhere.
“O piteous spectacle!”
Washington’s immediate successor was
JOHN ADAMS,
who was inaugurated March 4, 1797. He displayed superior capacity for
the position by removing the national capital from Philadelphia to
Washington, where it has remained ever since. It was a good riddance for
Philadelphia, but rather severe on Washington.
[Illustration:
_MR. ADAMS REMOVING THE CAPITOL TO WASHINGTON_
]
Mr. Adams only served one term. He was naturally a little _piqued_ at
not being nominated the second time, and retiring to Quincy, Mass., he
started an opposition post office, where he passed his declining years.
THOMAS JEFFERSON
was the third President of the United States. He was a gentleman of fine
literary attainments, his most popular works being the Declaration of
Independence and a humorous poem called “Beautiful Snow.” He wrote the
latter during the winter of 1798, (which was the most severe of any
within the memory of the oldest inhabitant,) working on it of nights. He
served two terms, and in the Spring of 1809 went to work on a farm,
where he spent the sunset of his days cultivating potatoes. He said it
was easier than being President, and a great deal more respectable.
[Illustration:
_Thomas Jefferson destroying potato bugs._
]
JAMES MADISON
next took charge of the helm of State, and very unsettled weather he
found it for a new beginner.
During his Administration the country became involved in another war
with Great Britain, growing out of certain liberties taken by the latter
with American vessels upon the high seas.
Whenever an English man-of-war ran short of hands its commander simply
helped himself from the crew of any American merchantman he happened to
encounter. James Madison stood it as long as he could, and then declared
war. This was called the “War of Twelve,” (afterwards increased to
several thousand,) and lasted two years.
Commodore Perry met the enemy on the Erie canal on the 10th of
September, 1814, and after a spirited naval battle they were his
property.
☞ See illustration.
JAMES MONROE
woke up one fine morning in 1817 and found himself President of the
United States. He set his wits to work and invented the “Monroe
Doctrine,” a neat and ingenious contrivance for preventing any foreign
Power from starting branch houses in America. He got it patented.
[Illustration:
_PERRY’S VICTORY ON THE ERIE CANAL._
]
[Illustration:
_NOTICE! TRESPASSING ON THESE PREMISES IS STRICTLY FORBIDDEN._
_THE MONROE DOCTRINE_
]
Mr. Monroe declined a third term on account of the cry of “Cæsarism”
having been raised by a rural journal. On retiring from public life Mr.
Monroe entered upon literary pursuits, and wrote some very able dime
novels. His master-piece, called “The Poisoned Peanut, or the Ghostly
Goblin of the Gory Glen,” has been translated into every language.
JOHN QUINCY ADAMS,
of Massachusetts, next tried on the presidential shoes (1825). Business
being dull, Mr. Adams whitewashed the Presidential Mansion, (a barrel of
lime having been appropriated by Congress,) since which time it has been
known as the White House.
Mr. Adams conducted himself in a gentlemanly manner, kept good hours,
and paid his board regularly.
ANDREW JACKSON
was next called to the chair. Mr. Jackson lived chiefly upon hickory
nuts, and it was in recognition of this well-known fact that he was
affectionately nicknamed “Old Hickory” by his admirers.
[Illustration:
_PRESIDENT ADAMS MAKES HIMSELF USEFUL_
]
He sometimes made use of very forcible language, and on more than one
occasion was distinctly heard to swear, “by the eternal JINGO, the
Constitution must and shall be preserved!”
Mr. Jackson had been elected on the Democratic ticket.
In our illustration Mr. Jackson is seen climbing a shell-bark hickory
tree in quest of his favorite luxury. The portrait is striking. The
shirt collar especially will be recognized by all who held office under
this remarkable man.
[Illustration:
_OLD MR: HICKORY._
]
MARTIN VAN BUREN
was inaugurated March 4, 1837. A financial crash, called the panic of
’37, immediately followed, so it is to be feared that Martin was a bad
financier. If we had been elected in his stead we would have adopted an
entirely different financial policy.
The disastrous results of Van Buren’s Administration are painfully
apparent in the illustration on page 166.
HARRISON—TYLER.
William Henry Harrison moved into the White House March 4, 1841. He died
just one month after, and Vice-President John Tyler stepped into his
shoes. He put his foot in it, however, and astonished the party who had
elected him (the Whigs) by his vetoing talents. He rather overdid it in
the case of a bill passed by Congress to establish United States banks,
and every member of his Cabinet resigned excepting Dan. Webster, who was
then too busily engaged on his dictionary to think of making out a
resignation.
[Illustration:
_HARD TIMES IN ’37_
]
President Tyler was a handsome man but a bad manager.
JAMES K. POLK
was elected on the Democratic ticket, by a large majority, in 1844, and
managed to get into a row with Mexico by admitting Texas into the Union
soon after his accession to the chair. Mexico set up a frivolous claim
to the territory, which, owing to the prompt measures adopted by Mr.
Polk, she was unable to establish.
[Illustration:
_WEBSTER’S UNABRIDGED DICTIONARY_
_WHY DAN WEBSTER DID NOT RESIGN._
]
The war which followed between the United States and Mexico was short
but sanguinary, as the reader will admit on reference to our
illustration, which, aside from its historical value, gives those of us
who have never served our country an excellent opportunity of seeing how
a battle is conducted without incurring any unnecessary risk. Whoever
can look upon this fearful scene of carnage without having the cold
chills run down his back must be stony hearted indeed. We would not like
to board in the same block with such a person. Even as we write we fancy
we can smell the sulphuric vapors of burning powder, but that after all
may be only the German restaurant below getting dinner ready.
With the exception of certain little eccentricities of character,
(hardly worth mentioning,) Mr. Polk proved a very desirable tenant of
the White House, and on retiring left it in good repair.
[Illustration:
_BIRDS-EYE VIEW OF THE MEXICAN WAR._
]
TAYLOR—FILLMORE.
Zachary Taylor took the White House off Mr. Polk’s hands, but only
survived six months.
Vice-President Millard Fillmore succeeded him, and having by accident
discovered that there was a good deal of gold secreted about California,
recognized the importance of admitting her into the Union lest some
foreign Power should take it into its head to carry off the rich
territory some dark night. There was special danger to be apprehended
from China, which had already begun to make excavations from below.
President Fillmore lost no time in taking California in, and many
ambitious young gentlemen of culture went there and grew up with the
country. In the work of art on page 172, we behold one of the latter
journeying toward the setting sun, accompanied by as many of the
luxuries of civilization as his limited means of transportation will
admit of.
[Illustration:
A YOUNG GENTLEMAN OF CULTURE ON HIS WAY TO CALIFORNIA.
]
There seem to be one or two incongruities in this otherwise master-piece
which we are at a loss how to reconcile with known laws of science. We
allude more particularly to the phenomenon of the sun and moon shining
simultaneously. But for the artist’s usual respectful way of treating
serious subjects we should be inclined to suspect that he was trifling
with our feelings. The worst of it is, the paradox escaped our notice
until after the plates had been cast. We hope our artist will be able to
explain it away on his return from Rome.
JAMES BUCHANAN
next undertook to fill the vacancy. Nature abhors a vacuum, and
generally fills it with wind if it can do no better. Republics sometimes
imitate her example, and the election of Mr. Buchanan was a case in
point. He was chronically afflicted with “squatter sovereignty,” and
spent most of his time in trying to comprehend American politics.
During Buchanan’s Administration John Brown and Sons undertook the
contract of exterminating slavery, and as an initial step seized and
burned the United States Arsenal at Harper’s Ferry. But the firm failed
before the job was half completed.
Mr. Brown’s body now lies mouldering in the grave, but it is due to him
to state that his soul goes marching on.
[Illustration]
On a previous page will be found John Brown’s soul in the act of
marching. Our artist was unable to obtain a very exact sketch as it was
getting quite dark.
LINCOLN—JOHNSON.
Abraham Lincoln was next voted into the chair, which reminds us of a
little anecdote.
Some years ago an Erie canal boat was weighing anchor in the harbor of
New York preparatory to setting sail for Buffalo, when the Captain was
hailed by a weary wayfarer, who said he wanted to go to Buffalo, and
having no money was willing to work his passage. The heart of the old
salt was touched; a tear stole down his weather-beaten cheek, and he
allowed the poor man to lead one of the mules on the tow-path all the
way to Buffalo.
[Illustration:
A “HUNDRED DAYS” MAN PUTTING DOWN THE REBELLION.
]
Abraham Lincoln was willing to work his passage. He earned every cent of
his salary, and rendered services to humanity which humanity will not
soon forget. Soon after his inauguration, in 1861, the Southern
rebellion broke out, which was eventually put down by the “hundred days’
men.” On page 179 will be found some cheerful particulars of the war
between the North and South, the more somber details of which we leave
to other and abler pens and pencils.
[Illustration:
FORT SUMTER FIRED UPON
BATTLE OF BULL RUN
_EMANCIPATION_
A 3 MONTHS MAN WISHING THIS CRUEL WAR WERE OVER
_CAPTURE OF JEFF DAVIS._
]
Vice-President Andrew Johnson succeeded Mr. Lincoln, with somewhat
doubtful success. As Mr. Johnson was a tailor by education he seemed to
be the man of all others cut out for the place; but his subsequent
conduct gave rise to conflicting opinions on this subject. He became the
unfortunate proprietor of a “policy”[4] which gave Congress a good deal
of trouble. Near the expiration of his official career he got a leave of
absence, and “swung around the circle,” (as he himself expressed it,)
making speeches in which he compared himself to Andrew Jackson and
seriously compromised himself by shamelessly admitting that he had held
every office in the gift of the people, from Alderman of his native
village to President of the United States.
Footnote 4:
Note.—We have tried in vain to procure a ground plan of this “policy,”
hence we are unable to furnish any illustration to this branch of our
subject.
During Mr. Johnson’s Administration he had more woes on account of
Congress
“Than wars or women have.”
Mr. Johnson would gladly have dispensed with Congress. Indeed, on one
occasion he made an attempt to impeach that body, but failed by one
vote.
Andy was very glad indeed at the expiration of his term to get back to
his goose. As far as Congress was concerned the pleasure was mutual.
ULYSSES S. GRANT
was put under bonds to keep the peace March 4, 1869, and has been that
way ever since. It is but justice to Mr. Grant to state that we have had
good crops during his Administration, which is now drawing to a close.
The _New York Herald_ has offered him a third term, but we have
information derived from private sources that he intends fulfilling a
life-long project of taking a partnership on the _Sun_, which Mr. Dana
has kept open for him.
[Illustration:
_The Present Incumbent_
]
At the present writing it has not been decided who will succeed Grant in
the Executive chair. We cannot permit our name to be used in connection
with the approaching canvass for reasons already explicitly stated;
besides this is the Centennial year, and we expect to have our hands
full.
We have now placed the reader in possession of all the facts worth
knowing in connection with the history of America from its very earliest
discovery up to ten o’clock last night; but before finally releasing his
button-hole we beg to “show him round” a little among our peculiar
institutions, and call his attention to a few evidences of national
greatness which may never have struck him before.
Let us, then, turn over a new leaf and open a new chapter.
_CHAPTER XXVI._
PROGRESS.
OUR PATENT OFFICE REPORT—IS NECESSITY THE MOTHER OF INVENTION?—A
CASE IN CONTRADICTION—ELECTRICAL KITE—THE COTTON GIN—THE FIRST
RAILWAY TRAIN—THE FIRST STEAMBOAT—THE PRINTING PRESS—THE ATLANTIC
CABLE—MORMONISM—AN APPARATUS—ART MATTERS.
Popular superstition has it that necessity is the mother of invention.
We are sorry to deprive the world of an old saying, but we happen to
know a person to whom the world is indebted for more useful inventions
than any other person of our acquaintance, and her name is Accident. For
instance,
[Illustration:
_FRANKLIN AND HIS KITE_
]
ELECTRICITY
was accidentally discovered by that famous American statesman and
philosopher, Benjamin Franklin, while indulging in his favorite pastime
of flying a kite. He ascertained that it was unsafe to fly a kite in a
thunder storm unless you have a lightning rod attached to your spinal
column. This important discovery conferred upon society the priceless
boon of the lightning-rod man.
THE COTTON-GIN
is an American invention, but whether it compares favorably with “Old
Tom” or “London Dock” we are unable to say. We do not believe in
stimulants as a rule, yet it cannot be denied that the introduction of
the new-fangled gin greatly stimulated the cultivation of cotton in
America.
[Illustration:
_Cotton Gin._
]
THE FIRST RAILWAY TRAIN.
America took the lead in railroad construction, though the locomotive is
claimed as an English contrivance.
The first railway train was a somewhat crude affair, but it succeeded in
making a sensation. The locomotive was built by Peter Cooper, and he it
was who ran the machine on its experimental trip.
The passengers were a surgeon, a chaplain, an editor, (names forgotten,)
John Smith, and another fellow, (all dead-heads.) Mr. Cooper poked the
fire, the other fellow pushed behind, while John Smith urbanely acted as
cow-catcher. The clergyman rode in the smoking-car and meditated on the
probabilities of ever seeing his family again this side of Jordan. The
editor went to sleep, while the doctor sat behind ready to jump out and
save himself in case of accident.
[Illustration:
_THE FIRST RAILWAY TRAIN_
]
After a delightful excursion of fifty miles or so into the country the
party returned home—afoot.
THE FIRST STEAMBOAT
was discovered by Robert Fulton September 4th, 1807. Our special artist
was promptly on the spot, and we are thus enabled to lay before our
readers all that is worth knowing of this event in the picture opposite.
THE TEN-CYLINDER PRINTING PRESS.
Newspapers have become a household necessity in every well-regulated
American family. They mould public opinion, and are handy to light fires
with. The universal use of newspapers gave rise to the ten-cylinder
printing press, an American invention.
[Illustration:
_THE FIRST STEAM BOAT—FASTEST TIME ON RECORD._
]
The publication of a daily newspaper is one of the most lucrative
professions of the day, and we strongly advise our American youth to
abandon all idea of ever becoming President, and save up all their
pennies to start newspapers with when they grow up. An ably-conducted
daily newspaper brings from two and a half to three cents per pound at
the junk dealers, when times are good. On page 193 are some illustrated
features of a well-conducted newspaper office. The central picture is
full of tender pathos. The editor and proprietor (evidently a man of
slender means) is seen working off his edition, assisted by his near
relatives. Each individual, from the proud wife and doting mother to the
infant at her breast, seems to attach weight to the enterprise with a
degree of enthusiasm that ought to encourage any man.
[Illustration:
_THE PRESS ROOM._
_BUSINESS DEPARTMENT._
_FIGHTING EDITOR._
]
THE ATLANTIC CABLE.
The Electro-Magnetic Submarine Trans-Atlantic Anglo-American Telegraph
Cable is, perhaps, the most wonderful of all Yankee notions. By its
agency our great morning dailies are able to get the most unreliable
foreign news at the low rate of ten dollars per word. The only wonder is
how people on both sides of the water ever got on so long without the
cable.
On page 195 is a picture representing the submarine cable, for which we
cannot help suspecting the artist has drawn largely on his imagination.
[Illustration:
_THE ATLANTIC CABLE._
]
MORMONISM
is of doubtful origin. Some authorities give the credit of its invention
to Joseph Smith, while others do not hesitate to ascribe its origin to a
gentleman whom the mind naturally associates with sulphuric gases.
However that may be, Mormonism is one of the institutions of the
country, and Brigham Young is its prophet, his present address being
Salt Lake City, Utah.
Mr. Young makes a specialty of matrimony, and has taken strict
precautions to guard against widowhood, as will be seen by reference to
our illustration, in which are seen Mr. and Mrs. Young on their bridal
tour.
[Illustration:
MR. AND MRS. BRIGHAM YOUNG.
]
Brigham makes it a point of etiquette to marry every unmarried lady to
whom he happens to be introduced, and his life is a perennial honeymoon.
To the merely Gentile man, whose matrimonial experience has been
conducted on monogamic principles, the hardihood of Mr. Young is simply
appalling.
AN APPARATUS
to keep hens from setting is an effervescence of the fertile brain of,
well, no matter who. It speaks for itself.
For further information on the interesting subject of Yankee ingenuity
we commend the reader’s careful perusal of the United States Patent
Office Report, a work unequaled for the brilliancy of its conception and
startling dramatic situations, and which, for its conscientious adhesion
to facts, only has a rival in the present work.
[Illustration:
_AN INGENIOUS INVENTION._
]
ART MATTERS.
The visitor to the Capitol, at Washington, will be struck with the
paucity of American art, as evinced by the specimens of painting and
sculpture to be seen in the Rotunda and immediate vicinity of that
structure. Barrels of paint and whole quarries of marble have been
sacrificed by an inscrutable Congress, whose sole object seems to have
been to frighten its constituency away from the scene of its dark
plottings with grotesque Washingtons, fantastic Lincolns, thinly-clad
Indian ladies, and unprincipled looking Puritans. Some meritorious works
of art, however, have lately found their way to the Capitol by accident,
but let us have more of them. We humbly submit a few designs for
equestrian statuary, which only await a misappropriation by Congress, as
follows:
[Illustration:
PLATE I.—Statue for a great American military hero who always kept his
face to the foe.
]
[Illustration:
PLATE II.—Is for another great military hero (a member of militia) who
would have kept his face to the foe if circumstances had been
favorable.
]
[Illustration:
PLATE III.—Equestrian statue of a public gentleman who kept his face
wherever it suited his convenience.
]
[Illustration:
PLATE IV.—A statue (also equestrian) for a great politician of foreign
origin who rose from humble beginnings to great achievements.
]
_CHAPTER XXVII._
SOME ABORIGINAL IDEAS—WISE MEN AT WORK—MOUND BUILDING FROM FORCE OF
HABIT—SUBTERRANEAN MISCELLANY—THE LOST TRIBE THEORY WON’T
DO—AUTOGRAPH SPECIMEN OF PICTURE WRITING—LIGHT AT LAST—PICTURESQUE
HABITS OF THE INDIANS.
The origin of the North American Indian has always been shrouded in the
deepest mystery, and wise-heads of every age and clime have sought to
tear aside the veil and show us our aboriginal brother in his true
colors.
Some of these learned gentlemen have carried their zeal to the extent of
renting wigwams in the Indian country, and living among these primitive
children of the forest, hoping, by dint of listening at key-holes, to
overhear some remark dropped by them that would reveal where they
emigrated from, but nothing came of it but premature baldness to the
wise-head so investigating. Others again have comfortably settled down
into the belief that these singular members of society are a revised
edition of the strayed or stolen tribes of Israel that have so long been
advertised for in vain.
In support of this theory the latter class of philosophers has dived
into side hills, (supposed to have been thrown up by an eccentric race
of Indians known as mound builders,) turning up every conceivable
article of second-hand Indian miscellany, and asking the world to
believe that these mysterious “mounds” were simply subterraneous
pawnbroker’s shops, built and conducted in obedience to a well-known
national instinct, and that the articles they contain are nothing more
nor less than unredeemed pledges “left” by impecunious prehistoric
ladies and gentlemen who were compelled to resort to that means of
raising the wind.
On page 209 our artist shows us the exponents of the latter theory at
work, and also gives us a singularly correct drawing of some of the
bric-a-brac which they have unearthed. We will take the liberty of
explaining further, and tell all we know concerning the supposed uses of
these mysterious articles.
A is supposed to be a surgical instrument. B, an instrument of torture.
C, toilet article. D, lady’s ear ornament. E, ancient drinking vessel.
F, tombstone, with inscription. G, pottery. H, musical instrument. I,
skull of native (deceased).
[Illustration:
_MEN OF SCIENCE “WORKING” A MOUND._
]
In the lower series we have: No. 1, artist’s utensil. 2, uses unknown to
the author. 3, patent hen’s nest (badly out of repair). 4, vinaigrette.
5, projectile. 6, bracelet. 7, war club. 8, burglar’s tool (very
ancient). 9, cooking utensil.
After going carefully over this array of evidence one naturally
hesitates before looking further for a theory. But, taking for granted
that the Indians really are a remnant of those mislaid Israelites, the
difficulty next arises as to how the dickens they got here, for when the
Israelites were first missed there was as yet no railway communication
between this country and Asia, and unless they tunneled their way up
through, _via_ China, it is difficult to account for their presence
here.
In common with other great minds, we, too, have devoted much of our
spare time to the effort of setting our red brother on his legs before
the world, and of tracing his footprints back through the ages, but
until quite recently we have been uniformly baffled. The fact is, our
red brother ought really to have kept a diary. He would thus have saved
us wise-acres much trouble and unnecessary expense. The next time we
hope he will not overlook this important detail.
As we said, all our efforts to trace the Indians back to their origin
had failed until recently. We rejected the “remnant” theory after a fair
trial. We compared this remnant with the original piece (so claimed),
and found it a bad match. In the face of strong evidence we renewed our
efforts, which were destined to meet with reward, as will be seen
presently.
A month or two since it luckily occurred to us to address a letter to a
skillful sachem, (who happens to be an acquaintance of ours, and is at
present located out West,) upon this interesting subject.
This gentleman, who is of the Choctaw persuasion, and was christened
_Gimmechawtybackee_, (_Billious Jake_,) sent us a most courteous and
comprehensive reply, which came to hand a few days since, and which
covers the whole ground in the most lucid manner. We wonder we never
thought of it before.
[Illustration:
_THE SACHEM’S LETTER._
]
[Illustration]
We here insert _Billious Jake’s_ letter _verbatim_. It is a master-piece
of composition, and sets the matter forever at rest. (_Daily papers
please copy._)
Before changing the subject, we should really like to pictorially look
into the habits of these strange victims of circumstances. Examine page
214, if you please. In No. 1 we see a stony-hearted savage taking a very
mean advantage of a white captive, and torturing him to death in the
most horrible and deliberate manner. No. 2, an early settler pursued by
a native. No. 3, Indian barber. And lastly, in No. 4, we have an Indian
gentleman journeying towards the setting sun on dead-head principles.
“His faithful dog shall bear him company.”—CAMPBELL.
_CHAPTER XXVIII._
AMERICAN SCENERY.
Few countries can boast such a variety of natural features as our own
America.
To the intelligent tourist of unlimited bank account this country
affords abundant material for the study of nature with all the modern
improvements, including gas, hot and cold water, and an elevator running
every five minutes up to the fifteenth floor. Terms invariably in
advance.
Our illustration on the opposite page conveys but a feeble idea of the
magnitude of some of the wonderful freaks of nature which the tourist
“doing” American is liable at any moment to stumble upon.
[Illustration:
1. _MAMMOTH CAVE KY._
2. _NATURAL BRIDGE VA._
3. _STREET SCENE._
4. _PRAIRIE SCENE._
5. _THE MAJESTY AND BEAUTY OF NIAGARA._
_AMERICAN SCENERY_
]
In No. 1 we have the Mammoth Cave. It takes its name from the gentleman
upon whose property it is located, and who uses it as a sub-cellar in
Winter, and locks himself up in it during the tax-gathering season. Our
illustration treats of the latter period. The Natural Bridge (No. 2) is
a marvel of architecture, and is lavishly decorated with appropriate
inscriptions. No. 3 hardly comes under the head of _Natural Scenery_,
and would appear to be rather a sudden change from the sweet realms of
nature to the busy haunts of men; but contrast is everything, and we
turn from this turbulent scene to one of delicious repose. No. 4, a
Western prairie. Here the eye wanders off over a rich and varied
landscape of level country, till finally in the distance it encounters
what? a vast spider? No. That is only the setting sun, as we ascertained
in a private conversation with the artist. No. 5. We hardly know how to
treat this matter. In writing about Niagara it is customary to either
rush madly into poetry or break hysterically into exclamation points. We
had heard a great deal about the awful majesty of Niagara Falls, and
went there to obtain, if possible, a personal interview, intending to
write it up in a style that would bankrupt our printer. We say we went
there expecting much, but we found that the half had not been told us.
If it had, we should have remained at home. Perhaps the least said about
it the better.
_CHAPTER XXIX._
SOME WORD PAINTING ON THE SUBJECT OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE—THE AFFAIRS
OF THIS STRANGE EVENTFUL HISTORY WOUND UP.
A work of this nature would be incomplete without some slight allusion
to the American Eagle. With reference to that ornithological specimen,
we may remark that the first century of his career has been an eventful
one. His wings have from time to time been cropped by foreign foes in a
style that has made it unnecessary as well as impossible to scorch them
against the sun. His tail feathers have been extracted by internecine
strife in a manner that has made it extremely difficult for him to steer
his majestic course amid the blue ether of Freedom, and his flight at
times has been awkward and eccentric in the extreme. In short, the
plumage has been plucked from various parts of his body by divers
evil-disposed persons to such an extent as to make aerial navigation in
a rarefied atmosphere an uncomfortable, not to say highly injurious
pursuit.
[Illustration:
_PORTRAIT OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE._
]
Notwithstanding all this we feel authorized to inform the public that
our national fowl is as tough as a boarding-house spring chicken; that
he will continue to roost at his present address until further notice,
spreading his wings from the Atlantic to the Pacific, beneath the shadow
of which all persons of good character are invited to come (references
exchanged). Here every one, from the peon to the prince, if not
satisfied with his present situation, can find a refuge, and by strict
attention to business become an Alderman of somebody else’s native
village and have canal boats named after him, or, (by _very_ strict
attention to business) even rise to be President[5] of the United
States!
Footnote 5:
NOTE—Since the above piece of rhetoric went to press we have
ascertained (quite accidentally) that persons are not eligible to this
office who have the misfortune to be born abroad. Therefore we hastily
append this postscript lest any unsuspecting peon or prince who might
chance to read these pages be inveigled over here under a
misapprehension. If he comes now it must be on his own responsibility.
THE END.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
1876. 1876.
[Illustration: G. W. CARLETON & CO.]
NEW BOOKS
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Wild Life. 1 50
Osceola, the Seminole. 1 50
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------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Liberties were taken with interpreting the formatting of handwritten
captions since they were intentionally intended to be humorous and
were written in a hodge podge of styles.
2. Silently corrected typographical errors.
3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
5. Enclosed bold font in =equals=.