fore saw this. They are around som whare but shooting is poor. No duck &
gese wether for a while yet. I stoped at S. Conkrite’s. I got to hav
pork, but he said nuthing of pork & neither did your uncle Josiah. He
has 9 squeeling around all fat in good condition.
_Oct. 31st_—This has ben a remarkabel month & changabel at times as
almanack predicted. Jim Crow is well. He has et well. I see hevy bunches
of cloudds in west that I fore see will breed duck & gese wether as I
rite. I notis in my almanack that meney thousans of pepil died of
sickness in India at this time of the yeare in 1724. Thare is too many
pepil. No sickness heare much at eny time. This is a helthy section only
3 died in 5 yeares. I see deer are around.
_Nov. 2nd_—Althow a stormy day Ed Baxter com in P.M. to see how I was &
to get honey & som tobaco if I hed eny. He told all the noos of them 2
twins James & John & you would think nobody ever had eny befoar. It is
all about them 2 red heds all the time how they et & how they are smart
& how much they way. All the branes in the country are setled in James &
John. He says he will bring them & show me. They must be som site & I
will be struck blind in 1 eye probly. You would think the world had com
to the end in them 2 & they was Danl Webstor. Thare was an awful famin
in Italy in the yeare 450 when parents et their children.
_Nov. 3rd_—Lite snow bust in the nite & I found bear traks all around
this morning. Som friend com to see Jim Crow probly. The pupp now sleeps
with Jim in the dog house & he howld in the nite. Som rain sputtering as
I rite.
_Nov. 4th_—Roring wind from the North today. A hevy sky & sleat. I notis
meney duck flocks & gese.
I will be busy now rite along. Must get a deer. A little venzon rite now
would be fine. Your uncle Josiah has apitite for som.
_Nov. 6th_—Got a buck rite on the iland. They will go poking their heds
in the window to get shot if I dont watch out. This was yesterdy. Jim
Crow is loose now & spends time mostly on the roof & up the cottonwood.
He was in the chickins Tuesday nite & today he was in the house & upsett
things. Might as well be a horse loose in the house. Must put him back
on chain. If you want to keap busy you want to keap a bear. He is a
quere cuss & probly smells the honey. She still blows & tomorro I go for
ducks. Wish I had all the lead I spattered around on that marsh in my
time. Must have raised the watter som.
_Nov. 7–8–9–10–11–12_—Was on the marsh all these days & tired at nite.
Wether lite winds & drizzeley. No finer duck & gese wether ever sene.
Your uncle was among them & he shook them loose. I com in wet tonite &
must sett around a while. I see traks showing sombody has ben heare.
Probly Conkrite or Ed Baxter to see how I was & to borro somthing & tell
me of them 2 twins. Must wrap up in my blankett & take som strong
medicin. I got a cold & I got wether pains. Will stay in & rite in my
wether book. On Nov. 9th in 1837 the quene of England dined at
Guildhall. Good meal probly.
_Nov. 13_—When your uncle Josiah takes medicin he doses up. I took 4
kinds today & kep my feet hot with my watter jug. I got a good fire.
Storms hevy outside but that does not hurt me eny. I read all it says on
all my medicin botles & I can get nuthing they will not cure. I got Jim
Crow & the pupp in the house for company now. They sleep mostly. When
they awake they make troubel. I fore see that these animils must be put
out.
_Nov. 14th_—Somthing I took yesterdy or last nite has helped som. I slep
well. Probly it was 1 of the bitters. Snow prevales outside & she falls
hevy as I rite. I put Jim & the pupp out. Thare was too meney in the
house. Jim has got honey coam & the pupp has got bones in the dog house
so they are hapy. Nobody could want more than that unless they are crazy
about money.
_Nov. 15–16–17_—I stade within mostly on these days. We are having a
spell of wether. My bitters & my Sistom Tonick are most gone but I still
got plenty of 2 kinds that I take internal & 3 kinds to rub on. Wolves
howl around a good dele at nite. I keap my sasafras tea het up rite
along but the bitters do most of the work. They are strong stuff & have
som get app to them. Sky is full of ducks & gese do a lot of honking
over the house. Probly to twitch me while I cant get out. Your uncle
feals som beter but he is wise. He will not go out too soon. It would be
beter for som body to go that would not be so much loss.
_Nov. 18_—S. Conkrite com today to see how I was & wanted to trade me a
nice fat hogg for Jim Crow & I done this. Jim is geting a litle sassy &
Conkrite’s will be a good place for him. Will now hav pork to put in
pikel & to smoak. He is to kill the pork & bring it & after that is to
take Jim home. I fore see that Jim will make troubel. I am up & around
all rite now. Must go after supplys of bitters & Sistom Tonick soon & I
must get a chese. A smitch of chese helps out a meal. Looks wethery
tonite & snow probabel.
_Nov. 19th_—S. Conkrite com today with the pork & it is good pork. We
fixed a crate to put Jim Crow in & he made a lot of fuss. Them 2 looked
funy going off in the boat. Cold & freezing som & ducks & gese have lit
out. Thare are deer around thow. I made soft soap today.
_Nov. 20th_—Ed Baxter com in P.M. to see how I was & to hang som meat in
my smoak house. When he sene the soft soap he wanted to borro som.
Probly to wash them red hedded twins. S. Conkrite also com at evening &
Sam Green & Wasson all with pork to smoak. I got lots of friends. My
pork must pikel a while befoar it smoaks but I got to fire up the smoak
house now for these men’s pork. They all like this because its something
for them. Ed told a lot about them twins. Thare has never ben such
twins. Conkrite’s noos is Jim Crow got away. The traks stade around the
chickins a while & then went to the woods whare fethers were found. Lite
sift of snow to nite. The Cape of Good Hope was doubled in the almanack
today in 1497. Quere they wanted 2 capes thare.
_Nov. 21st_—Jim Crow was up the cottonwood this morning when I went out.
Him & the pupp are now in the dog house. Conkrite will probly com after
Jim. She snows & blows hevy as I rite.
_Nov. 23rd_—My smoak house is well knone. Pete Quagno & 2 other inguns
com today to see about puting things in it but I tell them I want to kno
what they are. They say all sines show a hard winter coming. No danger
of them inguns stealing my soft soap. Your uncle Josiah is now all well
& feals fine. He was all over the iland today. He could pull up a tree
or kick the chimbly off the house if it had to be. I notis too meney
small animil tracks on the iland & I will now tend to these. The pupp is
fine & he now goes with me. Lite snow last nite & I see a wild catt has
ben across and I would like to get his fur.
_Nov. 25th_—Yesterdy I stade within with my medicins as I did not feal
so well. I got a stummick misry. Conkrite was down & took Jim Crow back
today. I do not think Jim likes Conkrite. He tried to get a peice out of
Conkrite when they was in the boat. Me & Jim always got along all rite.
Snow is faling.
_Nov. 26–27–28_—Snows all the time now. She dont know when to quit. My
almanack says G. Washington crossed the deleware Nov. 28th. It missed
saying what yeare but he got whare he wanted to go. Moon was full on the
26th but not sene.
_Nov. 29th_—S. Conkrite com with som meat to smoak today & it looks like
bear meat. I fear Jim Crow is now in the smoak house. That man knos
nuthing of how to keap pets. I was off in the woods when Conkrite com
but I kno it is Jim all rite. He was a fine bear & affecksionet. I wish
Conkrite had his dam pork back & I had Jim Crow.
_Nov. 30th_—That meat is not Jim at all for Jim is back & up the
cottonwood this morning. He did not want to com down but him & the pupp
are in the dog house as I rite. Jim likes it around heare. Mackarel sky
tonite & changing wether probabel. Nov. a remarkabel month all through.
_Dec. 1–2–3–4–5–6_—I ben fealing porly now som time with the misry in my
stummick. Tried som of all my internal medicins & feal som beter today.
Hav rubbed my Rumatiziam with Pain Killer & took pills both blue & pink
that are for liver complaint. Poor old Tike was sick too. I gave him the
box of condition powders I got in the fall for the chickins but he quit
that nite. This was on Saturday the 4th. The powders may not hav kep
well or maybe not good for a dog. I lost my best friend. Bad wether now.
I think animils should have no medicin at all of eny kind.
_Dec. 7th_—Ed Baxter com today to see how I was & to get his smoaked
pork. I promis to take Christmas diner with Ed & Wife. I must take
presents for James & John. Likely a buckett of soft soap will be good
for them 2. Looks gusty & snowy tonite.
_Dec. 8th_—S. Conkrite & Green & his friend Wasson all com to see how I
was today & get their smoaked stuff. Conkrite says would like me to keap
Jim Crow a while longer for he is too meney up to his place. This I will
do for Jim & me get along fine. Jim went up the cottonwood when he sene
Conkrite. Thares too meney smoak houses on this iland & too much
smoaking going on for other pepil. Snow storm slanting from the north
west & drifting som as I rite. I fore saw this last nite. I think
Conkrite is the one that is too meney up to his place instid of Jim
Crow. I got wether pains in both back & legs now.
_Dec. 9th_—Now she snows. Big drifts. Can not see dog house from window.
I now got Jim Crow & the pupp in the house. My wether pains som worse.
Must stay in my blankett.
_Dec. 10th_—A soft thaw has come on sudden. A warm sun prevales &
evrything all slushy. Good wether for wet feet. Your uncle still stays
within.
_Dec. 12th_—Both S. Conkrite & Ed Baxter com today & brought me a new
almanack for next yeare. This is the first time they ever com that it
was not somthing for them. They said I don litle favers for them & they
would like to make me this litle present. This all shows that if you
keap being good to pepil all your life some day they will bring you a
nice litle almanack. Probly they will want somthing next trip. I gave
them som Sistom Tonick & they liked that. Ed Spoke of them 2 twins &
they are both well & awful smart. He asked if my smoak house was still
in good working order & if my hens ben laying well lately & if I had
plenty of potattoes on hand.
_Dec. 13th_—Them 2 inguns that come heare last with Pete Quagno & his
squa com today & their noos is that Pete & his squa are both sick &
wanted tobaco. I sent Pete 2 pink pills. Them 2 inguns wanted me to send
Pete & his squa a big lot of tobaco by them but they did not know that
your uncle Josiah was setting around smoaking befoar eny of them was
born.
_Dec. 14th_—Last nite I read in my noo almanack. I notis it predicts
worse wether for next yeare. Storms & Tempests will prevale with intense
frosts probabel at times, but thare will be much changabel wether &
meney meteors that will betoken war. Thare will be awful winds on Parts
of the Earth. In the back are som Prophesies made by the Seventh Son,
which I copy down. He says thare will be wars and rumours of wars &
Turbulence & Teror will apear on evry hand & cloudds of darkest hue will
hang over the World in the East. Fires will abound & Tumults & Bloodshed
& Plots & Uprores in som Nations. Subject Pepils will turn & bite the
hoof that holds them down. A certain Luckless King may loose his hed &
something may hapen to the Pope. Armed Men may march to & fro & meney
will be smitten to the Dust. Blood will be shed in Ireland. Tyrants will
shake their Rods & the Torch of Discord will be hurled in Crimea. The
Couch of Mortality will be spred & meney pepil will die during the
yeare. Low Moans of the Oppressed will be heard in Italy. It is all bad
noos in the almanack for next yeare. The 7th Son predicts that Flocks of
Boobies will assale the TRUTHS OF PROPHESY. He predicts no troubels for
eny whare around here. Your uncle Josiah is in out of the wet.
_Dec. 15th_—Sam Green com & says his friend Wasson is sick & wants som
medicin. I give him som of each kind but I ought to see the simptoms.
Wasson does not kno what ales him but my medicin will probly fix him up.
He probly has stummick complaint. Stedy freezing wether now.
_Dec. 16–17–18_—Evrything is froze tite & so is the pump. I ben out on
trips & I think one ear is froze. I tended to a lot of bisness. I got
supplys & same kind of almanack for next yeare that I ben having. I
notis the predictions in it are not half so bad as the one that was
fetched for the litle present by Conkrite. He probly wanted to scare me
into the woods. I notis he keaps the same kind I do & he gave me the
other. I stopped at his place today & I saw Green & Wasson & J. Podnutt
thare. Wasson got well. Those were all good medicins I sent. Their noos
is timber theves are at it again down the river. Wasson hunts down thare
& he wants us all to form a possy and chase them out of the country but
your uncle chases nuthing these days he does not want. I tell them the
owners must be notified. I do not know what them old mud turkels talk
about all the time up to Conkrite’s. I got som candy for Jim Crow & I
paid Conkrite for his pork at a low price & Jim is now mine again. Jim
is good company if you kno how to get along with a bear. I got a noo
medicin. Instant Relief for Internal Disorders. Will try on sombody that
coms to see how I am & to borro medicin. It looks like a good remedy.
This has ben an active day.
_Dec. 20_—Think I got som cold on my trip Saturdy. Am taking the noo
remedy but do not yet kno what it will cure. I notis that 2 things that
are on the wrapper I am troubeled with. Big snow storm now going on.
_Dec. 21–22–23–24_—Your uncle Josiah has felt prety poorly for these 4
days. Hav taken my medicins stedy. Think I am now beter. Must go to
Baxter’s tomorro. Wether clear & cold.
_Dec. 26th_—I took diner up at Baxter’s & it was a good diner. We had
chickin fixings & cooked appels & a grate dele of other things & pie of
all kinds. I took the chickins up. We talked & smoaked & in P.M. Ed got
his fiddel out & playd hoppy tunes on it. A string was busted but he
done well with the rest. I got along fine with them 2 twins. Their
parents hav a lot of plesure with them babys. I had them on my lap & it
took me back to when I had 2 litle boys that did not kno beter than to
like to be around with their pa. I wish I had them litle boys back now.
They grew up & went away probly looking for beter friends. It is lonesom
heare on the iland with them & their mother all gone; once in a while I
find somthing around they playd with & things their mother had & them
things are what I got left. I must hav the Baxters down heare next
Chrismas if I am around. I will cetch them twins some young rabbitts
when they get old enough & som young mudturkels & pollywoggs to play
with like I used to do. Full moon at nite on my way back to the iland &
them 2 litle boys was asleep when I left.
_Dec. 27–28–29–30_—I ben too sick to rite in my wether book.
_Dec. 31st_—This was the last day of the yeare & whatever hapened is now
all over. It is awful cold & still outside & once in a while I heare
frost cracking in the woods. The yeare is now coming to its end in a few
minits. It is prety late for me to be around but I am waiting for the
old clock to strike 12. Maybe next yeare at this time I will be asleep.
It is awful lonesom heare tonite & I wish I had my folks around or if
them 2 litle boys was only heare or sombody. Maybe tomorro sombody will
com. I notis by the looking glass that the old man’s hed is prety white.
He has ben frosted som. He now goes into his blankett for the yeare ends
as he rites.
V
TIPTON POSEY’S STORE
The unpretentious building stood just back from the road, near the end
of “Bundy’s Bridge.” It was a lonely looking structure, for there were
no near neighbors. Its sustenance was drawn from a thinly populated
region, but its location made it easy of access from many miles around.
The winding thoroughfare that led over the decrepit bridge was an
ancient Indian trail that, like the other cherished possessions of the
red man, had been merged into the economies of his white brothers.
The plashing waters of the river lulled the ear with gentle tumult. They
sighed softly under the old bridge, rippled against the decayed
abutments with a dirge-like rhythm, and spread out in little swirls and
scrolls over the tapering sand bar below.
During the hot summer forenoons barefooted boys in fragmentary costume
appeared on the structure from unknown sources. They rested long cane
fish poles along the side rails, and watched for the corks to bob that
floated on the lazy current. They soon disrobed and remained naked the
rest of the day, making frequent trips into the river, where they
wallowed along the muddy margin and splashed in the shallow water.
The agile sun burned bodies, and the shouts of the noisy happy crew,
gave a touch of vibrant life and human interest to the melancholy old
bridge.
When night came the scant raiment was gathered up and the slender
strings of small bull-heads and sun-fish—a meager spoil if judged from a
material standpoint—were carried proudly away on the dusty road.
Emperors—and particularly one of them—might well envy their innocence
and happiness as they faded away into the twilight.
Lofty elms, big sycamores and bass-woods, interlaced with wild grape
vines, shaded the approach to the bridge, and fringed the gently sloping
banks of the river.
The store was a remnant of the past. When it was built, about sixty
years ago, the location seemed to offer alluring prospects. While the
expected town did not materialize in the vicinity of the bridge, the
store had done a thriving business, before the railroads crossed the
river country, and after the old trail was graded. Few of the frequent
travelers along the road had failed to stop and contribute more or less
to its prosperity. The trappers from up and down the river sold their
pelts and obtained supplies there, some of which consisted of very raw
edged liquor, that they often claimed ate holes in their stockings. Much
of it had never enjoyed the society of a revenue stamp, but as stamps
affected neither the flavor or the hitting quality of the goods, nobody
ever inquired into these things.
[Illustration:
TIPTON POSEY
]
The merciless years changed the fortunes of the place, and it was now in
an atmosphere of decay. It was a gray unpainted two story affair, with a
wooden awning over a broad platform in front, along the outer edge of
which hung a small squeaky sign:
+-------------------+
| TIPTON POSEY |
|GENERAL MERCHANDISE|
+-------------------+
It was the general loafing place of the old muskrat trappers and pot
hunters—known as “river rats,”—and old settlers, whose principal asset
was spare time, but everybody for miles around came occasionally to
“keep track o’ what’s goin’ on,” and to exchange the gossip of the river
country.
Posey, the jovial and philosophic proprietor, who lived upstairs, was a
sympathetic member of the motley gatherings. He was utilized in
countless ways. He acted as stakeholder and referee when bets were made
on disputed matters of fact, delivered verbal messages, and always had
the latest news. He was a good natured, ruddy faced old fellow, with an
eccentric moustache that curled in at one corner of his mouth, and
seemed to be trying to make its escape on the other side. He seldom wore
a hat and his gray hair stood up like a flare over his high forehead.
The confused stock of goods included a little of everything that any
reasonable human being would want to buy, and lots of things that nobody
could ever have any sane use for. Those who were unreasonable could
always get what they wanted by waiting a week or two, for “Tip” declared
that he would draw upon the resources of the civilized world through the
mails, if necessary, to accommodate his customers.
Posey was reliable in everything except regular attendance. He “opened
store” spasmodically in the morning, and closed it “whenever they was
nobody ’round” at night. When his life-long friend, Bill Stiles, was
unavailable as a substitute guardian he often locked up and left a
notice on the door indicating when he would return. I once found one
reading: “Gone off—back Monday.” It was Wednesday and it had been there
since Saturday. Various lead pencil comments had been inscribed on the
misleading notice by facetious visitors, among them “Liar!” “What
Monday?” “Sober up!” “Stranger called to buy a hundred dollars’ worth of
goods and found nobody home.” “The sheriff has been here looking for you
twice,” and several other notations calculated to annoy the delinquent.
Sometimes the notice would simply read “Gone off,” which, in connection
with the fact that the door was locked, was convincing to the most
obtuse observer. Tip usually found a fringe of patient customers and
assorted loiterers sitting along the edge of the platform, discussing
the burning questions of the day, when he returned.
During the shooting seasons he spent much time on the marsh down the
river. Orders were stuck under the door, and during his brief and
uncertain visits to the store, he filled them and left the goods in a
locked wooden box in the rear, to which a few favored customers had
duplicate keys.
While Tip’s affairs were not conducted on strictly commercial
principles, he had no competition, and eventually did all the business
there was to be done. “I git all the money they got, an’ nobody c’d do
more’n that if they was here all the time,” he remarked, as he laid his
gun and a bunch of bloody ducks on the platform and unlocked the door
late one night, after several days’ absence. “I got ’em all trained now
an’ they’d be spoiled if I took to bein’ here reg’lar.”
There were two “spare rooms” over the store, that were reached by a
stairway on the outside of the building. I usually occupied one of them
whenever I visited that part of the river. Bill Stiles slept in the
other when he thought it was too dark for him to go home, or he was not
in a condition to make the attempt. It was in use most of the time.
Bill was the _genius loci_, and gave it a rich and mellow character,
which it would have been difficult for Posey to sustain alone. He was a
grizzled veteran of the marshes. For many years he had lived in a
tumble-down shack on “Huckleberry Island.” He trapped muskrats and mink
over a wide area in the winter, and shot ducks and geese for the market
in the spring and fall. When the fur harvests began to fail, and the
game laws became oppressive, he concluded that he was getting too old to
work, and was too much alone in the world. He moved up the river and
built a new shack on “Watermelon Bend,” which was within easy walking
distance from the store, where he could usually find plenty of congenial
company when he wanted it. Here he had become a fixture.
Out of the ample fund of his experience, flavored and garnished by the
rich and inexhaustible fertility of an imagination, that at times was
almost uncanny, had come tales of early life on the river and marshes
that had enthralled the loiterers at the store. They shared the shade of
the awning with him during the hot summer days, and surrounded the big
bellied wood stove in the dingy interior during the winter days and
evenings when “they was nothin’ doin’” anywhere else in the region, and
listened with rapt interest to his reminiscences. Any expression of
incredulity met with crushing rebuke. “I didn’t notice that you was
there at the time,” he would remark with asperity. “If you wasn’t,
that’ll be all from you.”
The muskrat colonies still left along the river, and out on the marshy
areas, were often drawn upon by adventurous youngsters, solely for the
purpose of “seein’ Bill skin ’em.” Clusters of the unfortunates were
brought by their tails and laid on the store platform. The old man would
look the crowd over patronizingly, take his “ripper” from his pocket,
and, with a few dexterous strokes, perform feats of pelt surgery that
made the tyros gasp with admiration.
“I skun six hundred an’ forty-eight rats once’t, in five hours, that I’d
caught on Muckshaw Lake the night before,” was Bill’s invariable remark
after he had finished his grewsome performance.
The adulation of these small audiences was the glow that illumined his
declining days.