sternly courageous as a passel of buccaneers. Out in Mitchell's canyon a
couple of the Lee-Scott riders cuts the trail of a mountain lion and her
two kittens. Now whatever do you-all reckon this old tabby does? Basely
deserts her offsprings without even barin' a tooth, an' the cow-punchers
takes 'em gently by their tails an' beats out their joovenile brains.
That's straight; that mother lion goes swarmin' up the canyon like she
ain't got a minute to live. An' you can gamble the limit that where a
anamile sees its children perish without frontin' up for war, it don't
possess the commonest roodiments of sand. Sech, son, is mountain lions.
"It's one evenin' in the Red Light when Colonel Sterett, who's got
through his day's toil on that _Coyote_ paper he's editor of, onfolds
concernin' a panther round-up which he pulls off in his yooth.
"'This panther hunt,' says Colonel Sterett, as he fills his third
tumbler, 'occurs when mighty likely I'm goin' on seventeen winters. I'm
a leader among my young companions at the time; in fact, I allers is.
An' I'm proud to say that my soopremacy that a-way is doo to the
dom'nant character of my intellects. I'm ever bright an' sparklin' as a
child, an' I recalls how my aptitoode for learnin' promotes me to be
regyarded as the smartest lad in my set. If thar's visitors to the
school, or if the selectman invades that academy to sort o' size us up,
the teacher allers plays me on 'em. I'd go to the front for the outfit.
Which I'm wont on sech harrowin' o'casions to recite a ode--the
teacher's done wrote it himse'f--an' which is entitled _Napoleon's Mad
Career_. Thar's twenty-four stanzas to it; an' while these interlopin'
selectmen sets thar lookin' owley an' sagacious, I'd wallop loose with
the twenty-four verses, stampin' up and down, an' accompanyin' said
recitations with sech a multitood of reckless gestures, it comes plenty
clost to backin' everybody plumb outen the room. Yere's the first verse:
I'd drink an' sw'ar an' r'ar an' t'ar
An' fall down in the mud,
While the y'earth for forty miles about
Is kivered with my blood.
"'You-all can see from that speciment that our school-master ain't
simply flirtin' with the muses when he originates that epic; no, sir, he
means business; an' whenever I throws it into the selectmen, I does it
jestice. The trustees used to silently line out for home when I
finishes, an' never a yeep. It stuns 'em; it shore fills 'em to the
brim!
"'As I gazes r'arward,' goes on the Colonel, as by one rapt impulse he
uplifts both his eyes an' his nosepaint, 'as I gazes r'arward, I says,
on them sun-filled days, an' speshul if ever I gets betrayed into
talkin' about 'em, I can hardly t'ar myse'f from the subject. I explains
yeretofore, that not only by inclination but by birth, I'm a
shore-enough 'ristocrat. This captaincy of local fashion I assoomes at a
tender age. I wears the record as the first child to don shoes
throughout the entire summer in that neighborhood; an' many a time an'
oft does my yoothful but envy-eaten compeers lambaste me for the
insultin' innovation. But I sticks to my moccasins; an' to-day shoes in
the Bloo Grass is almost as yooniversal as the licker habit.
"'Thar dawns a hour, however, when my p'sition in the van of Kaintucky
_ton_ comes within a ace of bein' ser'ously shook. It's on my way to
school one dewy mornin' when I gets involved all inadvertent in a
onhappy rupture with a polecat. I never does know how the
misonderstandin' starts. After all, the seeds of said dispoote is by no
means important; it's enough to say that polecat finally has me
thoroughly convinced.
"'Followin' the difference an' my defeat, I'm witless enough to keep
goin' on to school, whereas I should have returned homeward an' cast
myse'f upon my parents as a sacred trust. Of course, when I'm in school
I don't go impartin' my troubles to the other chil'en; I emyoolates the
heroism of the Spartan boy who stands to be eat by a fox, an' keeps 'em
to myself. But the views of my late enemy is not to be smothered; they
appeals to my young companions; who tharupon puts up a most onneedful
riot of coughin's an' sneezin's. But nobody knows me as the party who's
so pungent.
"'It's a tryin' moment. I can see that, once I'm located, I'm goin' to
be as onpop'lar as a b'ar in a hawg pen; I'll come tumblin' from my
pinnacle in that proud commoonity as the glass of fashion an' the mold
of form. You can go your bottom _peso_, the thought causes me to feel
plenty perturbed.
"'At this peril I has a inspiration; as good, too, as I ever entertains
without the aid of rum. I determines to cast the opprobrium on some
other boy an' send the hunt of gen'ral indignation sweepin' along his
trail.
"'Thar's a innocent infant who's a stoodent at this temple of childish
learnin' an' his name is Riley Bark. This Riley is one of them giant
children who's only twelve an' weighs three hundred pounds. An' in
proportions as Riley is a son of Anak, physical, he's dwarfed mental; he
ain't half as well upholstered with brains as a shepherd dog. That's
right; Riley's intellects, is like a fly in a saucer of syrup, they
struggles 'round plumb slow. I decides to uplift Riley to the public eye
as the felon who's disturbin' that seminary's sereenity. Comin' to this
decision, I p'ints at him where he's planted four seats ahead, all
tangled up in a spellin' book, an' says in a loud whisper to a child
who's sittin' next:
"'"Throw him out!"
"'That's enough. No gent will ever realize how easy it is to direct a
people's sentiment ontil he take a whirl at the game. In two minutes by
the teacher's bull's-eye copper watch, every soul knows it's pore Riley;
an' in three, the teacher's done drug Riley out doors by the ha'r of his
head an' chased him home. Gents, I look back on that yoothful feat as a
triumph of diplomacy; it shore saved my standin' as the Beau Brummel of
the Bloo Grass.
"'Good old days, them!' observes the Colonel mournfully, 'an' ones never
to come ag'in! My sternest studies is romances, an' the peroosals of old
tales as I tells you-all prior fills me full of moss an' mockin' birds
in equal parts. I reads deep of _Walter Scott_ an' waxes to be a sharp
on Moslems speshul. I dreams of the Siege of Acre, an' Richard the Lion
Heart; an' I simply can't sleep nights for honin' to hold a tournament
an' joust a whole lot for some fair lady's love.
"'Once I commits the error of my career by joustin' with my brother
Jeff. This yere Jeff is settin' on the bank of the Branch fishin' for
bullpouts at the time, an' Jeff don't know I'm hoverin' near at all.
Jeff's reedic'lous fond of fishin'; which he'd sooner fish than read
_Paradise Lost_. I'm romancin' along, sim'larly bent, when I notes Jeff
perched on the bank. To my boyish imagination Jeff at once turns to be a
Paynim. I drops my bait box, couches my fishpole, an' emittin' a
impromptoo warcry, charges him. It's the work of a moment; Jeff's
onhossed an' falls into the Branch.
"'But thar's bitterness to follow vict'ry. Jeff emerges like Diana from
the bath an' frales the wamus off me with a club. Talk of puttin' a
crimp in folks! Gents, when Jeff's wrath is assuaged I'm all on one side
like the leanin' tower of Pisa. Jeff actooally confers a skew-gee to my
spinal column.
"'A week later my folks takes me to a doctor. That practitioner puts on
his specs an' looks me over with jealous care.
"'"Whatever's wrong with him, Doc?" says my father.
"'"Nothin'," says the physician, "only your son Willyum's five inches
out o' plumb."
"'Then he rigs a contraption made up of guy-ropes an' stay-laths, an' I
has to wear it; an' mebby in three or four weeks or so he's got me
warped back into the perpendic'lar.'
"'But how about this cat hunt?' asks Dan Boggs. 'Which I don't aim to be
introosive none, but I'm camped yere through the second drink waitin'
for it, an' these procrastinations is makn' me kind o' batty.'
"'That panther hunt is like this,' says the Colonel, turnin' to Dan. 'At
the age of seventeen, me an' eight or nine of my intimate brave comrades
founds what we-all denom'nates as the "Chevy Chase Huntin' Club." Each
of us maintains a passel of odds an' ends of dogs, an' at stated
intervals we convenes on hosses, an' with these fourscore curs at our
tails goes yellin' an' skally-hootin' up an' down the countryside
allowin' we're shore a band of Nimrods.
"'The Chevy Chasers ain't been in bein' as a institootion over long when
chance opens a gate to ser'ous work. The deep snows in the Eastern
mountains it looks like has done drove a panther into our neighborhood.
You could hear of him on all sides. Folks glimpses him now an' then.
They allows he's about the size of a yearlin' calf; an' the way he pulls
down sech feeble people as sheep or lays desolate some he'pless henroost
don't bother him a bit. This panther spreads a horror over the county.
Dances, pra'er meetin's, an' even poker parties is broken up, an' the
social life of that region begins to bog down. Even a weddin' suffers;
the bridesmaids stayin' away lest this ferocious monster should show up
in the road an' chaw one of 'em while she's _en route_ for the scene of
trouble. That's gospel trooth! the pore deserted bride has to heel an'
handle herse'f an' never a friend to yoonite her sobs with hers doorin'
that weddin' ordeal. The old ladies present shakes their heads a heap
solemn.
"'"It's a worse augoory," says one, "than the hoots of a score of
squinch owls."
"'When this reign of terror is at its height, the local eye is rolled
appealin'ly towards us Chevy Chasers. We rises to the opportoonity. Day
after day we're ridin' the hills an' vales, readin' the milk white snow
for tracks. An' we has success. One mornin' I comes up on two of the
Brackenridge boys an' five more of the Chevy Chasers settin' on their
hosses at the Skinner cross roads. Bob Crittenden's gone to turn me out,
they says. Then they p'ints down to a handful of close-wove bresh an'
stunted timber an' allows that this maraudin' cat-o-mount is hidin'
thar; they sees him go skulkin' in.
"'Gents, I ain't above admittin' that the news puts my heart to a
canter. I'm brave; but conflicts with wild an' savage beasts is to me a
novelty an' while I faces my fate without a flutter, I'm yere to say I'd
sooner been in pursoot of minks or raccoons or some varmint whose
grievous cap'bilities I can more ackerately stack up an' in whose merry
ways I'm better versed. However, the dauntless blood of my grandsire
mounts in my cheek; an' as if the shade of that old Trojan is thar
personal to su'gest it, I searches forth a flask an' renoos my sperit;
thus qualified for perils, come in what form they may, I resolootely
stands my hand.
"'Thar's forty dogs if thar's one in our company as we pauses at the
Skinner cross-roads. An' when the Crittenden yooth returns, he brings
with him the Rickett boys an' forty added dogs. Which it's worth a
ten-mile ride to get a glimpse of that outfit of canines! Thar's every
sort onder the canopy: thar's the stolid hound, the alert fice, the
sapient collie; that is thar's individyool beasts wherein the hound, or
fice, or collie seems to preedominate as a strain. The trooth is thar's
not that dog a-whinin' about our hosses' fetlocks who ain't proudly
descended from fifteen different tribes, an' they shorely makes a motley
mass meetin'. Still, they're good, zealous dogs; an' as they're going to
go for'ard an' take most of the resks of that panther, it seems
invidious to criticize 'em.
"'One of the Twitty boys rides down an' puts the eighty or more dogs
into the bresh. The rest of us lays back an' strains our eyes. Thar he
is! A shout goes up as we descries the panther stealin' off by a far
corner. He's headin' along a hollow that's full of bresh an' baby timber
an' runs parallel with the pike. Big an' yaller he is; we can tell from
the slight flash we gets of him as he darts into a second clump of
bushes. With a cry--what young Crittenden calls a "view halloo,"--we
goes stampeedin' down the pike in pursoot.
"'Our dogs is sta'nch; they shore does themse'fs proud. Singin' in
twenty keys, reachin' from growls to yelps an' from yelps to shrillest
screams, they pushes dauntlessly on the fresh trail of their terrified
quarry. Now an' then we gets a squint of the panther as he skulks from
one copse to another jest ahead. Which he's goin' like a arrow; no
mistake! As for us Chevy Chasers, we parallels the hunt, an' continyoos
poundin' the Skinner turnpike abreast of the pack, ever an' anon givin'
a encouragin' shout as we briefly sights our game.
"'Gents,' says Colonel Sterett, as he ag'in refreshes hims'ef, 'it's
needless to go over that hunt in detail. We hustles the flyin' demon
full eighteen miles, our faithful dogs crowdin' close an' breathless at
his coward heels. Still, they don't catch up with him; he streaks it
like some saffron meteor.
"'Only once does we approach within strikin' distance; that's when he
crosses at old Stafford's whisky still. As he glides into view,
Crittenden shouts:
"'"Thar he goes!"
"'For myse'f I'm prepared. I've got one of these misguided cap-an'-ball
six-shooters that's built doorin' the war; an' I cuts that hardware
loose! This weapon seems a born profligate of lead, for the six chambers
goes off together. Which you should have seen the Chevy Chasers dodge!
An' well they may; that broadside ain't in vain! My aim is so troo that
one of the r'armost dogs evolves a howl an' rolls over; then he sets up
gnawin' an' lickin' his off hind laig in frantic alternations. That hunt
is done for him. We leaves him doctorin' himse'f an' picks him up two
hours later on our triumphant return.
"'As I states, we harries that foogitive panther for eighteen miles an'
in our hot ardor founders two hosses. Fatigue an' weariness begins to
overpower us; also our prey weakens along with the rest. In the half
glimpses we now an' ag'in gets of him it's plain that both pace an'
distance is tellin' fast. Still, he presses on; an' as thar's no spur
like fear, that panther holds his distance.
"'But the end comes. We've done run him into a rough, wild stretch of
country where settlements is few an' cabins roode. Of a sudden, the
panther emerges onto the road an' goes rackin' along the trail. We
pushes our spent steeds to the utmost.
"'Thar's a log house ahead; out in the stump-filled lot in front is a
frowsy woman an' five small children. The panther leaps the rickety
worm-fence an' heads straight as a bullet for the cl'arin! Horrors! the
sight freezes our marrows! Mad an' savage, he's doo to bite a hunk outen
that devoted household! Mutooally callin' to each other, we goads our
horses to the utmost. We gain on the panther! He may wound but he won't
have time to slay that fam'ly.
"'Gents, it's a soopreme moment! The panther makes for the female
squatter an' her litter, we pantin' an' pressin' clost behind. The
panther is among 'em; the woman an' the children seems transfixed by the
awful spectacle an' stands rooted with open eyes an' mouths. Our
emotions shore beggars deescriptions.
"'Now ensooes a scene to smite the hardiest of us with dismay. No sooner
does the panther find himse'f in the midst of that he'pless bevy of
little ones, than he stops, turns round abrupt, an' sets down on his
tail; an' then upliftin' his muzzle he busts into shrieks an' yells an'
howls an' cries, a complete case of dog hysterics! That's what he is, a
great yeller dog; his reason is now a wrack because we harasses him the
eighteen miles.
"'Thar's a ugly outcast of a squatter, mattock in hand, comes tumblin'
down the hillside from some'ers out back of the shanty where he's been
grubbin':
"'"What be you-all eediots chasin' my dog for?" demands this onkempt
party. Then he menaces us with the implement.
"'We makes no retort but stands passive. The great orange brute whose
nerves has been torn to rags creeps to the squatter an' with mournful
howls explains what we've made him suffer.
"'No, thar's nothin' further to do an' less to be said. That cavalcade,
erstwhile so gala an' buoyant, drags itself wearily homeward, the
exhausted dogs in the r'ar walkin' stiff an' sore like their laigs is
wood. For more'n a mile the complainin' howls of the hysterical yeller
dog is wafted to our years. Then they ceases; an' we figgers his
sympathizin' master has done took him into the shanty an' shet the door.
"'No one comments on this adventure, not a word is heard. Each is silent
ontil we mounts the Big Murray hill. As we collects ourse'fs on this
eminence one of the Brackenridge boys holds up his hand for a halt.
"Gents," he says, as--hosses, hunters an' dogs--we-all gathers 'round,
"gents, I moves you the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club yereby stands adjourned
_sine die_." Thar's a moment's pause, an' then as by one impulse every
gent, hoss an' dog, says "Ay!" It's yoonanimous, an' from that hour till
now the Chevy Chase Huntin' Club ain't been nothin' save tradition. But
that panther shore disappears; it's the end of his vandalage; an' ag'in
does quadrilles, pra'rs, an poker resoom their wonted sway. That's the
end; an' now, gents, if Black Jack will caper to his dooties we'll
uplift our drooped energies with the usual forty drops.'"
WOUTER VAN TWILLER
BY WASHINGTON IRVING
It was in the year of our Lord 1629 that Mynheer Wouter Van Twiller was
appointed governor of the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, under the
commission and control of their High Mightinesses the Lords States
General of the United Netherlands, and the privileged West India
Company.
This renowned old gentleman arrived at New Amsterdam in the merry month
of June, the sweetest month in all the year; when dan Apollo seems to
dance up the transparent firmament,--when the robin, the thrush, and a
thousand other wanton songsters make the woods to resound with amorous
ditties, and the luxurious little bob-lincoln revels among the
clover-blossoms of the meadows,--all which happy coincidence persuaded
the old dames of New Amsterdam, who were skilled in the art of
foretelling events, that this was to be a happy and prosperous
administration.
The renowned Wouter (or Walter) Van Twiller was descended from a long
line of Dutch burgomasters, who had successively dozed away their lives
and grown fat upon the bench of magistracy in Rotterdam; and who had
comported themselves with such singular wisdom and propriety, that they
were never either heard or talked of--which, next to being universally
applauded, should be the object of ambition of all magistrates and
rulers. There are two opposite ways by which some men make a figure in
the world; one, by talking faster than they think, and the other, by
holding their tongues and not thinking at all. By the first, many a
smatterer acquires the reputation of a man of quick parts; by the other,
many a dunderpate, like the owl, the stupidest of birds, comes to be
considered the very type of wisdom. This, by the way, is a casual
remark, which I would not, for the universe, have it thought I apply to
Governor Van Twiller. It is true he was a man shut up within himself,
like an oyster, and rarely spoke, except in monosyllables; but then it
was allowed he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible was his
gravity that he was never known to laugh or even to smile through the
whole course of a long and prosperous life. Nay, if a joke were uttered
in his presence, that set light-minded hearers in a roar, it was
observed to throw him into a state of perplexity. Sometimes he would
deign to inquire into the matter, and when, after much explanation, the
joke was made as plain as a pike-staff, he would continue to smoke his
pipe in silence, and at length, knocking out the ashes, would exclaim,
"Well, I see nothing in all that to laugh about."
With all his reflective habits, he never made up his mind on a subject.
His adherents accounted for this by the astonishing magnitude of his
ideas. He conceived every subject on so grand a scale that he had not
room in his head to turn it over and examine both sides of it. Certain
it is, that if any matter were propounded to him on which ordinary
mortals would rashly determine at first glance, he would put on a vague,
mysterious look, shake his capacious head, smoke some time in profound
silence, and at length observe, that "he had his doubts about the
matter"; which gained him the reputation of a man slow of belief and not
easily imposed upon. What is more, it gained him a lasting name; for to
this habit of the mind has been attributed his surname of Twiller; which
is said to be a corruption of the original Twijfler, or, in plain
English, _Doubter_.
The person of this illustrious old gentleman was formed and proportioned
as though it had been moulded by the hands of some cunning Dutch
statuary, as a model of majesty and lordly grandeur. He was exactly five
feet six inches in height, and six feet five inches in circumference.
His head was a perfect sphere, and of such stupendous dimensions, that
Dame Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would have been puzzled to
construct a neck capable of supporting it; wherefore she wisely declined
the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of his backbone, just
between the shoulders. His body was oblong, and particularly capacious
at bottom; which was wisely ordered by Providence, seeing that he was a
man of sedentary habits, and very averse to the idle labor of walking.
His legs were short, but sturdy in proportion to the weight they had to
sustain; so that when erect he had not a little the appearance of a beer
barrel on skids. His face, that infallible index of the mind, presented
a vast expanse, unfurrowed by those lines and angles which disfigure the
human countenance with what is termed expression. Two small gray eyes
twinkled feebly in the midst, like two stars of lesser magnitude in a
hazy firmament, and his full-fed cheeks, which seemed to have taken toll
of everything that went into his mouth, were curiously mottled and
streaked with dusty red, like a spitzenberg apple.
His habits were as regular as his person. He daily took his four stated
meals, appropriating exactly an hour to each; he smoked and doubted
eight hours, and he slept the remaining twelve of the four-and-twenty.
Such was the renowned Wouter Van Twiller,--a true philosopher, for his
mind was either elevated above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares
and perplexities of this world. He had lived in it for years, without
feeling the least curiosity to know whether the sun revolved round it,
or it round the sun; and he had watched, for at least half a century,
the smoke curling from his pipe to the ceiling, without once troubling
his head with any of those numerous theories by which a philosopher
would have perplexed his brain, in accounting for its rising above the
surrounding atmosphere.
In his council he presided with great state and solemnity. He sat in a
huge chair of solid oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of the Hague,
fabricated by an experienced timmerman of Amsterdam, and curiously
carved about the arms and feet into exact imitations of gigantic eagle's
claws. Instead of a scepter, he swayed a long Turkish pipe, wrought with
jasmin and amber, which had been presented to a stadtholder of Holland
at the conclusion of a treaty with one of the petty Barbary powers. In
this stately chair would he sit, and this magnificent pipe would he
smoke, shaking his right knee with a constant motion, and fixing his eye
for hours together upon a little print of Amsterdam, which hung in a
black frame against the opposite wall of the council-chamber. Nay, it
has even been said, that when any deliberation of extraordinary length
and intricacy was on the carpet, the renowned Wouter would shut his eyes
for full two hours at a time, that he might not be disturbed by external
objects; and at such times the internal commotion of his mind was
evinced by certain regular guttural sounds, which his admirers declared
were merely the noise of conflict, made by his contending doubts and
opinions.
It is with infinite difficulty I have been enabled to collect these
biographical anecdotes of the great man under consideration. The facts
respecting him were so scattered and vague, and divers of them so
questionable in point of authenticity, that I have had to give up the
search after many, and decline the admission of still more, which would
have tended to heighten the coloring of his portrait.