"Ah, some of their _haccommodations_, I expect; these American
landlords, as they style 'em in these infernal wild woods 'ere, do
manage to give a body tolerable sort of haccommodations; ha, but they'll
take care to look hout for the dollars. I don't know, tho', these
fellers 'ere appear tolerably clever; want me to ride hout, I suppose,
and see some of their Yankee lions. Haw! haw! _Lions!_ I wonder what
they'd say hif they saw Lun'un, and looked at St. Paul's once!"
Getting through his toilet--and it takes an Englishman as long to fix
his stiff cravat and that _stiffer_ and stauncher shirt-collar, and rub
his hat, than a Frenchman to rig out _tout ensemble_, to say nothing of
the gallons of water and dozens of towels he uses up in the
operation--John found the carriage waiting; he asked no questions, but
jumped in.
"Isn't there some others beside yourself going out, sir?" says the
driver, supposing he had the right man, or one of them.
"No; drive off--where are you going to drive me?"
"Mount Auburn, sir, the carriage was ordered for."
"Humph! Some of the _battle-grounds_, I suppose," John grunts to
himself, falls into a fit of English doggedness, and the coach drives
off.
Thomas Johns made little or no noise or confusion in the house,
consequently he was not known to the servants, and very little known to
the clerks. John Thomas was another person--he was all fuss and
feathers. He kept his bell ringing, and the servants rushing for towels
and water, water and towels, boots and beer, beer and boots, the English
papers, maps of America, &c., without cessation. He was John Thomas and
Thomas Johns, one and indivisible.
John got his ride, and returned to the hotel sulkier than ever; and by
the time he got unrobed of his pea-jackets and huge shawls about his
burly neck, he was telegraphed by a servant to come down; there was a
gentleman below on business with him. John foreswore business, but the
gentleman must see him, and up he came for that purpose. His
unmistakable _mug_ told he was "an officer."
"I've a bill against you, sir, $368,20. Must be paid immediately!" said
the presenter, peremptorily.
John was thunderstruck.
"Me, and be hanged to ye!" says John, getting his breath.
"Yes, sir, for goods packed at Smith & Brown's, for Nova Scotia. The
bill was to be paid this morning, as you agreed, but you told the clerk
to go to the d--l! Won't do, that sort of work, here. Pay the bill, or
you must go with me!"
John, when he found himself in custody, swore it was some infernal
Yankee scheme to gouge him, and he started for the clerk's office,
below, to have some explanation. As John and the officer reached the
rotunda, a gentleman steps up behind John, and gives his nose a
first-rate _lug_. They clinched, the bystanders and servants interposed,
and John and his assailant were parted, and by this time the nose puller
discovered he had the wrong man by the nose!
"Is your name Thomas Johns?" says the nose puller.
"Blast you, no!"
"Who pays this bill for the carriage, if your name ain't Johns?" says a
man with a bill for the carriage hire.
"I allers heard as ow you Yan-gees were inquisitive, and sharp after the
dollars, and I'm 'anged if you ain't awful. My name's John Thomas, from
Lun'un, bound back again in the next steamer. Now who's got any thing
against _me_?"
Thomas Johns came in at this climax, an explanation ensued, John was
relieved of his embarrassment, and all were finally satisfied, except
John Thomas, who, venting a few bottles of his spleen on every body and
all things--Americans especially--took to his bed and beer, and snorted
for a week.
The Yankee in a Boarding School.
"Well, squire, as I wer' tellin' on ye, when I went around pedlin'
notions, I met many queer folks; some on 'em so darn'd preoud and sassy,
they wouldn't let a feller look at 'em; a-n-d 'd shut their doors and
gates, _bang_ into a feller's face, jest as ef a Yankee pedler was a
pizen sarpint! Then there waa-s t'other kind o' human critters, so pesky
poor, or 'nation stingy, they'd pinch a fourpence till it'd squeal like
a stuck pig. Ye-e-s, I do _swow_, I've met some critters so dog-ratted
mean, that ef you had sot a steel trap onder their beds, a-n-d baited it
with three cents, yeou'd a cotch ther con-feoun-ded souls afore
mornin'!"
"Massy sakes!" responded the squire.
"Fact! by ginger!" echoed the ex-pedler.
"Well, go on, Ab," said the squire, giving his pipe another 'charge,'
and lighting up for the yarn Absalom Slamm had promised the gals, soon
as the quilt was out and refreshments were handed around.
"Go on, Ab--let's hear abeout that scrape yeou had with the school marm
and her gals."
"Wall, I _will_, squire; gals, spread yeourselves areound and squat;
take care o' yeour corset strings, and keep deth-ly still. Wall; neow,
yeou all sot? Hain't none o' ye been in the pedlin' business, I guess;
wall, no matter, tho' it's dread-ful pleasant sometimes: then again at
others, 'taint."
"Go on, Ab, go on," said the squire.
"Ye-e-s; wall, as I was saying, 'beout tradin', none o' yeou ever been
in the tradin' way? Wall, it deon't matter a cent; as I was agoin' to
say, I had hard, hard luck one season--got clean busted all tew smash!
O-o-o! it was _dre-a-a-dful times_; jest abeout the time Gineral Jackson
clapped his _we-toe_ on the hull o' the banks, kersock. Wall, yeou see,
I got broke all tew flinders. My ole hoss died, the sun and rain beat up
my wagon, I sold eout my notions tew a feller that paid me all in
ceounter-fit money, and then he dug eout, as Parson Dodge says, to
undiskivered kedn'try.
"There was only one way abeout it; I was beound to dew somethin',
instead o' goin' to set deown and blubber; and as I layed stretched eout
in bed one Sunday morning, in Marm Smith's tavern, in the cockloft among
the old stuff, I spies a darn'd ole consarn that took my fancy immazin'!
As Deb Brown said, when she 'sperienced rele-gen, I felt my sperrets
raisin' me clean eout o' bed, and eout I beounced, like a pea in a hot
skillet. Deown I goes to Marm Smith; the ole lady was dressed up to
death in her Sunday-go-to-meetin's, and jest as preoud and sassy as her
darn'd ole skin ceould heould in.
"'Marm Smith,' sez I, 'yeou hain't got no ole stuff yeou deon't want tew
sell nor nuthin', dew ye?'
"'_Ab Slamm_,' sez she, plantin' her thumbs on her hip joints, and as
the milishey officer ses on trainin' day, comin' at me, 'right face,'
she spread herself like a clapboard. 'Ab Slamm,' sez she, 'what on airth
possesses yeou to talk o' tradin' on the Sabbath?'
"'Wall,' sez I, 'Marm Smith, yeou needn't take on so 'beout it; I guess
a feller kin ax a question witheout tradin' or breakin' the Sabbath all
tew smash, either! Neow,' says I, 'yeou got some ole plunder up ther in
the cockloft, where yeou stuck me to sleep; 'tain't much use to yeou,
and one article I see I want to trade fur.'
"Wall, we didn't trade _'zactly_. Marm Smith, yeou see, got
dre-e-e-adful relejus 'beout that time--wouldn't let her gals draw ther
breth scacely, and shot her roosters all up in the cellar every Sunday.
Fact, by ginger! Wall, yeou see, Marm Smith were agin tradin' on Sunday,
but she sed I might arrange it with Ben, her barkeeper, and so I got the
instrument, _any heow_."
"What was it, Ab?" inquired the squire.
"Massy sakes, tell us!" says the gals.
"I sha'n't dew it, till I tell the hull abeout it," Ab replied, rather
choosing, like Captain Cuttle, to break the gist of his information into
small chunks, and so make it the more _telling_ and comparatively
interesting.
"When I got the _instrument_, and paid Marm Smith my board bill, I wer
in possession of a cash capital of jest three fo'pences. I took my
jack-knife, and unjinted the instrument, cleaned it off, then wrapped
the different sections up in a paper, put the hull in my little yaller
trunk, and dug eout. When I got clean eout o' sight and hearin' of
everybody I'd ever hear'n tell on, I stopped r-i-g-h-t in my track. My
cash capital wer gone, my mortal remains were holler as a flute, and my
old trunk had worn a hole clean through the shoulder o' my best Sunday
coat. I put up, and sez I tew the landlord:
"'Squire, what sort o' place is this for a sheow?'
"'For a sh-e-ow?' sez he.
"'Ye-e-e-s,' sez I.
"'What a' yeou got to sh-e-o-w?' sez he.
"'The most wonderful instrument ever inwent-'d,' sez I.
"'What's 't fur?' sez he.
"'For the wimen,' sez I.
"'O! sez he, lookin' alfired peart and smeart, as tho' he'd seen a flock
o' l'fants; 'quack doctor, I s'pose, eh?'
"'No, I ben't a quack doctor, nuther,' sez I, priming up at the
insin-i-wa-tion.
"'Wall, what on airth hev yeou got, _any heow_?' sez he.
"When he 'poligized in that sort o' way, in course I up and told him
the full perticklers 'beout a wonderful _instrument_ I had for the
ladies and wimen folks. A-n-d heow I wanted to sheow it before some o'
the female sim-i-nar-ries, and give a lectoor on't.
"'By bunker!' sez he, 'then yeou've cum jest teou the spot; three miles
up the road is the great _Jargon Institoot_, 'spressly for young ladies,
wher they teach 'em the 'rethmetic, French scollopin', and High-tall-ion
curlycues; dancin', tight-lacin', hair-dressin', and so forth, with the
use of curlin' irons, forty pinanners, and parfumeries chuck'd in.'
"'Yeou deon't _say_ so?' sez I.
"'Yes, I doos,' sez he; and then yeou had orter seen me make streaks fur
the Jargon Institoot.
"I feound the place, knocked on the door, and a feller all starch'd up,
lookin' cruel nice, kem and opened the door. I axed if the marm were in.
Then he wanted tew kneow which of 'em I wanted tew see. 'The head marm
of the Institoot,' sez I. 'Please to give me yeour keard,' sez he. 'You
be darn'd,' sez I; 'I'd have yeou know, mister,' sez I, 'I don't deal in
_keards_--never did, nuther!'
"The feller show'd a heap o' ivory, and brought deown the head marm. It
weould a' dun Marm Smith's ole heart good to seen this dre-e-a-d-ful
pius critter. She looked mighty nice, a-n-d she scolloped reound, and
beow'd and cut an orful quantity o' capers, when I ondid my business to
her. I went on and told her heow in course o' travel--
"'In furrin pearts?' sez she.
"'Yes,' sez I--'I kim across a great instrument,' sez I. 'It was well
known to the wimen and ladies o' the past gin-i-rations,' sez I.
"'The an-shants?' sez she.
"'Yes, marm,' sez I. Then she axed me wether it wer a wind instrer-ment
or a stringed instrer-ment. A-n-d I told her it wer a stringed
instrer-ment, but went on the hurdy-gurdy pren-cipl', with a crank or
treddle. But what I moost dwelt on, as the ox-ion-eer sez, were the
great combinations of the instrer-ment, a-n-d I piled it up
dre-e-e-adful! I told the marm I wanted to git the thing patented, and
put before the people--the wimen and ladies in per-tick'ler--so that
every gal in the univarsal world could play upon it--exercise her hands,
strengthen her arms and chist, give her form a nater-al de-welop-ment,
and so make the hull grist o' wimen critters useful, as well as
or-namental, as my instrer-ment was a useful necessity; for while it
lent grace and beauty to the female form, and gin forth fust rate music,
it was par-fect-ly scriptooral; it ceould be made to clothe the naked
and feed the hon-gry. My il-o-quince had the marm. She 'greed to buy one
of my machines _straight_ fur use of her _Institoot_--each school-gal to
'put in' by next day, when I wer to bring the instrer-ment, get my $40,
and deliver a lectoor on it. Next mornin', bright and early, I wer
there; the _puss_ wer made up, and the gals nigh abeout bilin' over with
curiosity to see my wonderful _hand-limberer, arm-strengthener,
chist-expander, female-beautifier, and univarsal musical machine!_ When
they all got assembled, I ondid the machine; they wer still as death!
When I sot it up, they wer breathless with wonderment; when I started
it, they gin a gineral screech of delight. Then I sot deown and played
'em _old hund'erd_, and every gal in the room vowed right eout she'd
have one made _straight!_ O-o-o! yeou'd a died to seen the excitement
that instrer-ment made in Jargon Institoot. The head marm wanted my
ortergraff, and each o' the gals a lock o' my hair. But just then, a
confeounded ole woolly-headed Virginny nigger wench, cook o' the Jargon
Institoot, kem in, and the moment she clapped her ole eyes on my
inwention, she roared reight eout, 'O! de _Lud_, ef dar ain't one de ole
Virginny _spinnin' wheels!_' I kinder had bus'ness somewheres else
'beout that time! I took with a leaving!"
A Dreadful State of Excitement.
A retrospective view of some ten or fifteen years, brings up a wonderful
"heap of notions," which at their birth made quite a different sensation
from that which their "bare remembrance" would seem to sanction now. The
statement made in a "morning paper" before us, of a fine horse being
actually scared stone and instantaneously dead, by a roaring and hissing
locomotive, brings to mind "a circumstance," which though it did not
exactly _do our knitting_, it came precious near the climax!
Some years ago, upon what was then considered the "frontier" of
Missouri, we chanced to be laid up with a "game leg," in consequence of
a performance of a bullet-headed mule that we were endeavoring to coerce
at the end of a corn stalk, for his "intervention" in a fodder stack to
which he could lay no legitimate claim. About two miles from our
"lodgings" was a store, a "grocery," shotecary pop, boots, hats,
gridirons, whiskey, powder and shot, &c., &c., and the post office.
About three times a week, we used to hobble down to this modern ark, to
read the news, see what was going on down in the world, and--pass a few
hours with the proprietor of the store, who chanced to be a man with
whom we had had a former acquaintance "in other climes." Well, one day,
we dropped down to the store, and found pretty much all the men
folks--and they were not numerous around there, the houses or cabins
being rather scattering--getting ready to go down the river (Missouri)
some ten miles, to see a notorious desperado "stretch hemp." My friend
Captain V----, the storekeeper, was about to go along too, and proposed
that we should mount and accompany him, or--stay and tend store. We
accepted the latter proposition, as we were in no travelling kelter, and
had no taste for performances on the tight rope. Having officiated for
Captain V---- on several former occasions, we had the run of his
"grocery" and _postal_ arrangements quite fluent enough to take charge
of all the trade likely to turn up that day; so the captain and his
friends started, promising a return before sunset.
One individual, living some seven miles up the road, called for his
newspaper, and got his jug filled, spent a couple of hours with us--put
out, and was succeeded by two squalid Indians, with some skins to trade
for corn juice and tobacco; they cleared out, and about two or three P.
M., some _movers_ came along; we had a little dicker with them, and that
closed up the business accounts of the day.
Having discussed all the availables, from the contents of the post
office--seven newspapers and four letters per quarter!--to the crackers
and cheese, and business being essentially stagnated, we ups and lies
down upon the top of the counter, to take a nap. Captain V----'s store
was a log building, about 15 by 30, and stood near the edge of the
woods, and at least half a mile from any habitation, except the
schoolhouse and blacksmith's shop, two small huts, and at that time--"in
coventry." Captain V---- was a bachelor; he boarded--that is, he took
his meals at the nearest house--half a mile back from the wood, and
slept in his store. We soon fell into the soft soothing arms of
Morpheus, and--slept. It was fine mild weather--September, and, of
course, the door was wide open. How long we slept we were not at all
conscious, but were aroused by a heavy hand that gave us a hearty shake
by the shoulder, and in a rather sepulchral voice says--
"How are you?"
Gods! we were up quick, for our sleep had been visited by dreams of
southwest tragedies, hanging scrapes, and other nightmare affairs, and
as we opened our eyes and caught a glimpse of the double-fisted,
cadaverous fellow standing over us, a strong inclination to go off into
a cold sweat seized us! Lo! it was after sunset! Almost dark in the
store, the stars had already began to twinkle in the sky.
Captain V---- did a considerable trade at his store, and at times had
considerable sums of money laying around. Upon leaving in the morning,
he notified us, in case we should require _change_, to look into the
desk, where he kept a shot bag of silver coin, and--his pistols.
"How are you?" the words and manner and looks of the man gave us a cold
chill.
"How do you do?" we managed to respond, at the same time sliding down
behind the counter. The stranger had a heavy walking stick in his hand,
and a knapsack looking bundle swung to his shoulder. He looked like the
rough remnants of an ill-spent life; had evidently travelled somewhere
where barbers, washer-women and such like civilian delicacies, were more
matters of tradition than fact.
"Been asleep, eh?" he carelessly continued.
"It appears so," said we, feeling no better or more satisfactory in our
mind, and no reason to, for night was now closing in, and we were going
through our performances by the slight illumination of the stars,
without any positive certainty as to where the Captain kept his tinder
box and candle, that we might furnish some sort of light upon the
lugubrious state of affairs.
"Do you keep this store?"
"No, we do not," we answered, watching the man as he put his bundle down
upon the counter.
"Who does?" was the next question.
"The gentleman who keeps it," we replied, "is away to-day."
"Ah, gone to see a poor human being put out of the world, eh?"
We said "yes," or something of the kind, and thought to ourself, no
doubt you know all that's going on of that sort of business like a book,
and a host of other ideas flashed across our mind, while all the evil
deeds of note transacted in that region for the past ten years, seemed
awakened in our mind's eye, working up our nervous system, until the
coon skin cap upon our excited head stood upon about fifteen hairs, with
the strange and overwhelming impression that our time had come! We would
have given the State of Missouri--if it were in our possession, to have
heard Captain V----'s voice, or even have had a fair chance to dash out
at the door, and give the fellow before us a specimen of tall
walking--lame as we were!
"Ain't you got a _light_? I'd think you'd be a little timid (a _little_
timid!) about laying around here, alone, in the dark, too?" said the
fellow, sticking one hand into his coat pocket, and gazing sharply
around the store. Mock heroically says we--
"Afraid? Afraid of what?" our valor, like Bob Acres', oozing out at our
fingers.
"These outlaws you've got around here," said he. "They say the man they
hanged to-day was a decent fellow to what some are, who prowl around in
this country!"