A VERY handsome friend of ours, who a few weeks ago was poked out of a
comfortable office up the river, has taken himself to Bangor for a time
to recover from the wound inflicted upon his feelings by our
"unprincipled and immolating administration."
Change of air must have had an instant effect upon his spirits, for,
from Galena, he writes us an amusing letter, which, among other things,
tells of a desperate quarrel that took place on board of a boat, between
a real live tourist and a real live Yankee settler. The latter trod on
the toes of the former, whereupon the former threatened to "kick out of
the cabin" the latter.
"You'll kick me out of this cabing?"
"Yes, Sir, I'll kick you out of this cabin!"
"You'll kick _me_, Mr. Hitchcock, out of this cabing?"
"Yes, Sir, I'll kick _you_, Mr. Hitchcock!"
"Well, I guess," said the Yankee, very coolly, after being perfectly
satisfied that it was himself that stood in such imminent danger of
assault, "I guess, since you talk of kicking, you've never heard me tell
about old Bradly and my mare to hum?"
"No, Sir, nor do I wish--"
"Wall, guess it won't set you back much, any how, as kicking's generally
best to be considered on. You see old Bradly is one of those
sanctimonious, long-faced hypocrites who put on a religious suit every
Sabbath day morning, and with a good deal of screwing, manage to keep it
on till after sermon in the afternoon; and as I was a Universalist, he
allers picked me out as a subject for religious conversation--and the
darned hypocrite would talk about heaven, and hell, and the devil--the
crucifixion and prayer without ever winking. Wall, he had an old roan
mare that would jump over any fourteen rail fence in Illinois, and open
any door in any barn that hadn't a padlock on it. Tu or three times I
found her in my stable, and I told Bradly about it, and he was 'very
sorry--an unruly animal--would watch'--and a hull lot of such things;
all said in a serious manner, with a face twice as long as old deacon
Farrar's on sacrament day.
"I knew, all the time, he was lying, and so I watched him and his old
roan tu; and for three nights regular, old roan came to my stable about
bed-time, and just at day-light Bradly would come, bridle her, and ride
off. I then just took my old mare down to a blacksmith's shop and had
some shoes made with corks about four inches long, and had 'em nailed on
her hind feet. Your heels, mister, ain't nuthin to 'em. I took her
hum--gave her about ten feet halter, tied her right in the centre of the
stable, fed her well with oats at nine o'clock, and after taking a good
smoke, went to bed, knowing that my old mare was a truth-telling animal,
and that she'd give a good report of herself in the morning.
"I hadn't got fairly asleep before the old woman hunched me, and wanted
to know what on airth was the matter out in the stable. So says I, 'Go
to sleep, Peggy, it's nothing but Kate--she's kicking off flies, I
guess.' Putty soon she hunched me again, and says, 'Mr. Hitchcock, du
get up, and see what in the world is the matter with Kate, for she is
kicking most powerfully.'
"'Lay still, Peggy, Kate will take care of herself, I guess.'
"Well the next morning, about daylight, Bradly, with bridle in hand, cum
to the stable, and true as the book of Genesis, when he saw the old
roan's sides, starn, and head, he cursed and swore worse than you did,
mister, when I came down on your toes. After breakfast that morning, Joe
Davis cum down to my house, and says he--
"'Bradly's old roan is nearly dead--she's cut all to pieces, and can
scarcely move.'
"'I want to know,' says I; 'how on airth did it happen?'
"Now Joe was a member of the same church with Bradly, and whilst we were
talking, up cum the everlastin hypocrite, and says he,
"'My old mare is ruined!'
"'Du tell!' says I.
"'She is all cut to pieces,' says he; 'do you know whether she was in
your stable, Mr. Hitchcock, last night?'
"Wall, mister, with this I let out: 'Do I _know_ it?'--(the Yankee here,
in illustration, made way for him, unconsciously, as it were.) 'Do I
know it, you no-souled, shad-bellied, squash-headed old night owl,
you!--you hay-lookin, corn-cribbin, fodder-fudgin, cent-shavin,
whitlin-of-nothin, you? Kate kicks like a dumb beast, but I have reduced
the thing to a science!'"
The Yankee had not ceased to advance, nor the dandy, in his
astonishment, to retreat; and now the motion of the latter being
accelerated by the apparent demonstration on the part of the former to
suit the action to the word, he found himself in the "social hall,"
tumbling backwards over a pile of baggage, tearing the knees of his
pants as he scrambled up, and a perfect scream of laughter stunning him
on all sides. The defeat was total. A few moments afterward he was seen
dragging his own trunk ashore, while Mr. Hitchcock finished his story on
the boiler deck.--_St. Louis Reveille._