Class ___ 
 
 Book . 
 
 Copyright 1^°- 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
Uncle D\idley*s Odd Hours 
 
 122 
 
 Western Sketches 
 
 Indian Trail Echoes 
 
 Straws of H\imor 
 
 By M. C. Russell 
 
 ("Uncle Dvidley") 
 
 Lake City, Minn.: 
 
 " The Home Printery. 
 
 1904. 
 
^L^^ 
 ^<=\^ 
 
 LIBRARY pfOONf^RF.SS 
 Two Coi.'ies Received 
 APR 13 190'i' 
 
 Copyri«rhi Entry 
 
 CLASS (X. XXc. No. 
 
 COPY B 
 
 Alone, from his asrial crag, 
 He 'spies his luckless prey. 
 
 And "figures out" its habitat, 
 Then plans his downward way. 
 
A WORD PRELIMINARY. 
 
 This book makes no pretension, whatever, to being "A 
 book among books," in the literary world ; this places it outside 
 the pale of criticism. It is a simple record of little events, ex- 
 perienced or observed by the writer, during the early times in 
 the interesting history of one of the best states in the Union. 
 The incidents related are either exactly or substantially true — 
 aside from many of the Straws of (alleged) Humor. A narrator 
 of things must, of necessity, seem to stand in the position of the 
 hero of the incidents related — for the most part, at least. The 
 author denies, however, the remotest intention, or desire to pose 
 as a hero in anything, little or big. He has endeavored to simply 
 relate things in as impersonal a manner as the circumstances 
 seemed to permit. He fully realizes the fact that his life has 
 been nothing to be particularly proud of — in the presence of 
 those saddest of all words, " It might have been." Scores of his 
 ' ' early day ' ' companions in the work of laying the foundation 
 upon which a new and proud state was soon to stand (noble fel- 
 lows as they all were), fell by the wayside, never to rise again. 
 Others became, at last, not only prominent in affairs, but closed 
 their lives as influential Christian men. The only " distinction " 
 the writer claims, is that of being the first boy in the Territory, 
 without parent or guardian, who remained till he grew to be a 
 full-fledged citizen of his beloved young state — Minnesota. He 
 has in mind, scores of additional "incidents," to those here 
 given, which may be produced in another book, provided he is 
 ever so circumstanced as to have them published in a more cor- 
 rect form than these appear. [See page 256.] 
 
 With kindest regards, 
 
 The Author. 
 
' ' Hoo ! hoo ! hoo ! " is all he says, 
 Night-murder is all he knows : 
 His wise-like stare 'mongst men is found, 
 But ignorance only shows. 
 
The strongest pillar, a.s well bls the most beautiful, in our 
 National structure, is American Womanhood. [Uncle Dudley. 
 
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Sketches of the West. 
 
 JOHNNY CUTTING, 
 
 N the year 1857, long before a railroad between St. 
 ■ Paul and the head of I^ake Superior had even been 
 
 dreamed of ; when the vast region lying between the 
 two points named was a peculiarly hideous wilderness, 
 the writer was one of a party of four who penetrated 
 that country nearly up to the St. Louis River. Our 
 object was recreation and adventure. At Cross Lake, 
 where the early Catholic missionaries for a long time 
 conducted an Indian mission, we halted for a month, 
 with our headquarters not far from the old mission buildings. 
 The Indians in the neighborhood were friendly, and it was not 
 long before our party was on such good terms with them that we 
 could leave our camp for days together without finding anything 
 disturbed on our return. From this point we made extended 
 trips into the wilderness, in various directions, taking with us 
 a light camping outfit, of course including guns, compasses, etc., 
 and carrying enough provisions to answer for the trip in view. 
 Sometimes, however, we were thrown wholly upon the resources 
 of the country ; though we were never sorely in want of provis- 
 ions, as game was quite plentiful, and we killed many deer and 
 three bears, beside considerable smaller game, during our month's 
 explorations. 
 
 One of our longest trips was to the northwestward of Cross 
 Lake, in making which we came one day, about the middle of 
 the afternoon, to an immense windfall. A particularly fierce 
 tornado had passed through the dense forest, uprooting the trees 
 and piling them confusedly in a ridge that extended for miles. 
 This windfall was the greatest and most difficult to cross of any 
 the writer has ever seen, though I have observed many in the 
 thick pine woods of the far northwestern country. 
 
lo UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 We had designed going some distance further in the direc- 
 tion we were traveling ; and though the huge windfall we en- 
 countered was a barrier not easily surmounted by men with tired 
 limbs and heavy packs, we resolved to cross it on account of the 
 novelty of the experience, as well as for other reasons. The 
 point a{ which we struck the windfall was in a dense pine growth 
 where the trees had stood to a great size and height. Their 
 trunks, as they lay piled upon each other, were as white as bones, 
 and formed a very high ridge about twenty rods in width. 
 
 After a rest of half an hour, a little luncheon and a smoke, 
 our party commenced the ascent. In our clamber we met with 
 not a few mishaps, and indulged in hearty laughter as one, then 
 another, of the party would go tumbling, pack and all, away 
 down among the great logs. At length we gained the summit, 
 the writer having the good fortune to reach the topmost log of 
 the ridge a trifle in advance of the others, and to his utter sur- 
 prise he met, at the highest point, face to face with a human being, 
 who was known at a glance to be certainly not an Indian. Both 
 were equally astonished at the sight of each other ; for, as we 
 came up simultaneously to the same log, the stranger gave a 
 sort of gutteral exclamation of surprise, and started backward, 
 with a critical look and a decided air of distrust. He was not 
 over five feet, five inches in height, and was of slight figure, 
 though he evidently possessed great wiriness and agility, with a 
 capacity for extreme endurance. He had a small beard, yet his 
 face was strikingly effeminate, with a finely cut mouth and nose, 
 that were wonderfully expressive — a pretty dark -blue eye, wear- 
 ing a look of saddest cast. His hands and feet were extremely 
 small for a man, and his entire appearance though weather- 
 beaten and sad-like, betokened refinement of person and charac- 
 ter. His hair — the most striking feature about this singular 
 being — though evidently little cared for, hung in long, brown 
 ringlets about his head and shoulders. He was dressed entirely 
 in buckskin, excepting his cap, which was of mink fur trimmed 
 with beads and porcupine quills. 
 
 Our party, on reaching the place of meeting, took seats on 
 the log, while the m3^sterious stranger seated himself on the 
 heavy pack he had been carrying, a rod distant. For a moment 
 we looked him over without speaking and he gave each of us a 
 
ODD HOURS. II 
 
 searching look from head to foot. The writer first broke the 
 silence by an inquiry as to who he was. He said he wasn't any- 
 body, and returned the question. We briefly informed him who 
 we were, and what we were there for — our mission in that re- 
 gion being nothing in particular. He asked us where we were 
 going ; and we told him it was our wish to go in the direction 
 we were traveling as far as the upper Kettle River. In response 
 to our questions regarding that region, and the exact direction 
 to it, he informed us in a few words that we would be quite the 
 opposite from welcome in the Kettle River country, as the In- 
 dians would consider us intruders upon their hunting-grounds, 
 and might conclude to make it extremely warm for us. 
 
 This man did not seem disposed to do much talking, and his 
 mode of speech was decidedly strange. There w^as a peculiar 
 cut-off to every sentence, and to almost every word. We judged 
 this to be owing to his long association with the Indians, as in 
 his speech there was the gutteral tone common to most Indian 
 languages. In reply to our question as to the location of his 
 headquarters, he told us that they were almost anywhere, but 
 just then his camp was three miles distant, where, as it was 
 nearly night, we would be made welcome, if we chose to accom- 
 pany him. After a brief consultation we determined to accept 
 his invitation, because, aside from a desire to find a camp already 
 made for the night, we had a strong desire to learn more of the 
 peculiar being we had met in so singular a manner in so out- 
 landish a part of the country. 
 
 We all shouldered our packs, and were soon in Indian file, 
 following our guide through the mossy cranberry marshes and 
 over pine ridges. He carried a pack consisting of furs, deer 
 skins, dried meat, and a few blackened and battered utensils, the 
 whole weighing nearly one hundred pounds. He packed in true 
 Indian style. The bundle was secured by rawhide thongs, and 
 around it a wide belt of the same, which he passed over his head, 
 allowing the band to rest on his forehead. When he arose to his 
 feet the pack rested at the small of the back just above the hips. 
 It was a perfect wonder to our party to see a person of so slight a 
 build carry such a load, and that, too, with such apparent ease. 
 He traveled fast, and halted but once in the three miles, and 
 then for a moment only, whilst the strongest man in our party, 
 
12 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 with bill half the load, was well-nigh fagged out in keeping pace 
 with our guide. 
 
 We found his camp in a romantic spot, on the shore of a 
 small lake, the waters of which were clearer, if possible, than 
 plate glass, whence flowed a beautiful little stream, winding down 
 through a deep, mossy dell, with evergreens along either bank, 
 and brilliant-colored vines reflecting their varied beauty in the 
 crystal-like water below. Both lake and brook were inhabited 
 by thousands of luscious trout. His camp consisted of a roomy, 
 birch -bark wigwam, in which there were evidences of scrupulous 
 neatness and good order. At one end was a low, wide bunk, and 
 the bed was wholly made of skins and furs. First was a lot of 
 dried grass, gathered from the neighboring meadows ; on top of 
 this were spread sheets made of deer-skins, which had been 
 tanned after the peculiar mode of the Indians, and were as soft 
 as velvet. At the head was a large pillow filled with moss. 
 Over all were two fur spreads or robes, which had also been 
 tanned so as to leave them pliable as a woolen blanket. At the 
 side of the wigwam was a rude table made of rawhide stretched 
 over stakes which v/ere driven into the ground. Above this 
 were two or three ingeniously constructed shelves, containing 
 various articles. Of the latter, some bore evidence of being the 
 productions of civilization, and others were ingenious and pretty 
 specimens of the handiwork of native women. In one corner 
 were arranged, in an orderly way, quite a number of steel traps 
 of various sizes ; and close by was a receptacle for a hunting- 
 knife, ammunition, gun, tomahawk and other implements of the 
 chase. The floor, which was the ground, was covered over 
 with coarse matting, braided from the marsh-flag. Two or three 
 rude stools, in addition, composed the inside furnishing of this 
 strange abode. In a hast}' glance at the articles on the shelves, 
 I discovered a small, cracked mirror, in a frame of bark, a 
 dingy copy of Scott's Poems, and three or four other very 
 smoky-looking volumes, and a well worn picture case, but I did 
 not venture to peer inside the dingy case to see what picture 
 might be there, though I hazarded a silent guess, which several 
 years after^vard I found to have been a correct surmise. His 
 fireplace was outside, and directly in front of the aperture which 
 !-^?rved as a door. It consisted of two forked sticks driven into 
 
ODD HOURS. 13 
 
 the ground, with a pole across, from which latter an extremely 
 ancient-looking iron kettle was suspended by a small iron chain. 
 This kettle, with a broken skillet, a dented copper vessel and a 
 birchen bucket, composed the culinary outfit. 
 
 Seeing we were tired, our entertainer asked us to enter his 
 wigwam and rest, whilst he prepared some supper. We com- 
 plied ; but the writer, however, after resting inside for a few 
 minutes, volunteered to assist in preparing the meal. After 
 starting a fire by means of a flint and steel and some dry spunk - 
 wood, the host produced from behind the wigwam what he called 
 his "trout-persuader," and started for the lake beach. This 
 contrivance was simply a net, about three feet square, finely and 
 evenly woven from the fibre of a water plant, and stretched on 
 two parallel sticks, held in position by two cross sticks, lashed at 
 each end by thongs of rawhide, the tension being such as to 
 admit of the net bagging down slightly in the middle. It was 
 with no little curiosity that I followed him closely to the shore 
 of the lake, to see how he could capture the wary trout with such 
 a contrivance ; and indeed, as soon as I saw, no ordinarj^ mor- 
 tal could have succeeded with it. He motioned me to remain a 
 little back, while he, taking the net by the two handles, glided 
 softly along a small bay, driving a school of the speckled treas- 
 ures quietly before him, until he came near a sharp nook, which, 
 through a narrow passage, led to a miniature bay within, a few 
 feet across. When the school was about opposite the entrance to 
 this, he made a quick upward and outward motion of the net, 
 and simultaneously with this he leaped, with the quickness of a 
 flash, and set his net nearly perpendicular in the mouth of this 
 natural trap. Of course, the fish, recovering from their first 
 fright, would dart instantly for deep water again, but not until 
 his net was snugly placed in their way. He had made it to fit 
 the entrance to the grotto exactly, and when the trout darted for 
 their freedom they ran into the bag of the net, and the next in- 
 stant found themselves — a dozen or more — landed high and dry 
 upon the beach by another motion of their captor, equal in 
 quickness to the one that had imprisoned them. 
 
 What with dried meat, chipped up and stewed in the iron 
 pot, trout fried in deer's marrow, wild rice, the bread our party 
 carried, seasoned by the keenest of appetites, our supper and 
 
14 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 breakfast with this lone man of the wilderness were among the 
 most enjoj^able of all the meals we ever ate. 
 
 After supper, as we all reclined about the camp-fire, enjoy- 
 ing our pipes — all save our host, who said he never used tobacco 
 in any form — I essayed to draw out the mysterious stranger, 
 and ascertain if possible, something of his history. This, how- 
 ever, I knew to be a delicate task, as his manner, though ex- 
 tremely courteous and hospitable, seemed distant and reticent, 
 save on topics of the present. Nevertheless I resolved to try, 
 though every inquiry was put in the most casual way lest I 
 should arouse in him a feeling of resentment, or a suspicion that 
 I intended to be impertinent. In response to various questions, 
 I was informed that it had been several years since he had 
 seen a white man ; that he never went out to the trading-posts, 
 but did his trading through the Indians ; that he was thirty 
 years of age, and had entered that region alone when a very 
 young man, and never intended to abandon the wild life he had 
 led so long — a life of constant adventure and hardship, with no 
 companion but his gun, and holding no intercourse with the 
 human family save the Indians of that remote region, nor often 
 with them ; that the Indians were friendly at all times when he 
 met them ; that his name among the whites was John Cutting, 
 but that the Indians had named him "The Silent Walker." 
 
 It was with some hesitation that he told us his parents and 
 relatives were among the first families of central Illinois, and 
 wealthy. His reason for abandoning a life of ease and luxury, 
 at an age when he was just entering upon the joys and pleasures 
 of the world, he declined to state. 
 
 After breakfast in the morning we made preparations for 
 returning to our camp at Cross Lake, and Cutting said he would 
 accompanj^ us for a few miles, as soon as he could put his camp 
 in order and get a few things packed for the tramp ; that he was 
 going to the lower Grindstone River on a trapping expedition, to 
 be gone several days. 
 
 Accordingly, an hour after the morning meal, we all started, 
 with him as our guide again. Just before noonday we reached a 
 trail, by following which, Cutting said we could save a consider- 
 able distance, and pointing in the direction we must go, and with- 
 out saying a word, he grasped each one of us warmly by the hand. 
 
ODD HOURS. 15 
 
 turned sharply to the left of our course, and in an instant more 
 " The Silent Walker" had disappeared in the forest. 
 
 Nearly five 5'ears after our exploring party had returned from 
 the remote region of the St. I^ouis River, the tocsin of civil war 
 was sounded, and thousands of the young men of the country 
 quickly responded, the writer of these pages among the rest. I 
 went fifty miles, alone and on foot, to old Fort Snelling, found 
 the commandant and mustering ofiicer promptly, and told them I 
 desired to enter the first regiment from my young, adopted state, 
 as a private soldier. I was informed that my chance was hardly 
 good to even get into the last company of the second regiment, so 
 rapidly had volunteers poured in at all hours, day and night. Al- 
 though reluctant to join any but the regiment of my choice, yet, 
 enthusiastic in the idea of serving my country, I was mustered, 
 and directed to report for duty to Captain Noah, whose quarters 
 in a certain section of the Fort were pointed out to me. Going 
 thither, I was admitted to a large room containing nearly a hun- 
 dred new recruits. All was bustle and confusion. The captain 
 gave me a suit of " regimentals," knapsack and blanket, and the 
 orderly sergeant assigned me to a bunk with another recruit in 
 the quarters, whom I found engaged in making up the rough bed 
 of a soldier. As I stepped forward he turned about, looking me 
 squarel}^ in the face, as if to see what sort of a comrade had been 
 given him. The recognition was instant and mutual — my bunk- 
 mate, the man who was to share with me the trials of the march, 
 the hardships of the bivouac, and the dangers of many a bloody 
 battle-field, was none other than Johnny Cutting, "The Silent 
 Walker." To say that each was astonished beyond measure, at 
 this second strange meeting, but feebly expresses it ; and that 
 night we talked long and freely concerning matters that mutually 
 interested us. 
 
 Cutting seemed to consider himself very fortunate to have met 
 some one whose face he had seen before ; and during the time 
 that followed, although he was ever courteous and obliging to all 
 his companions in arms, he was never known to converse with 
 those about him much more than the rules of war demanded, ex- 
 excepting with the writer, whom he always sought to be near, 
 and to whose mess he was always sure to belong. 
 
i6 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 No man in the Union army was a better soldier than Johnny 
 Cutting. He always kept his clothing clean and orderly, his gun 
 and equipments bright and ready for duty at a moment's notice. 
 He was orderly to an extreme ; and his example in the company 
 was more potent in enforcing good order and discipline than the 
 scowls of an exacting officer. When the long-roll was sounded, 
 calling the regiment to arms, night or day, he was sure to be the 
 first to report on the company's parade ground, in perfect readi- 
 iness for battle. I never saw a man who was as quick, and yet 
 undemonstrative, in his motions as he, nor a soldier who persist- 
 ently sought to be at the front in every danger and hardship that 
 presented, of which there was no lack. His favorite place was on 
 the picket line, and his commander was not long in learning his 
 value in the most responsible position of a soldier — that of a 
 picket in front of the enemy. 
 
 Ivittle by little, and in a disconnected way, I learned the story 
 of Johnny Cutting's life; and it was, in the beginning, the old, 
 old story, of love and disappointment. 
 
 He was the son of a wealthy Illinois farmer. From child- 
 hood he had grown up in company with Mary Allen, the sweet, 
 blue-eyed daughter of a near neighbor. They had attended 
 school together, from the days of their a, b, c's until they had 
 graduated with honor from the best institution of learning in that 
 part of the state. They had spent their vacations mostly in each 
 other's company, and their hearts' tendrils had become so com- 
 pletely entwined, that to part them would have been worse than 
 death itself — at least to the warm and devoted nature of Johnny 
 Cutting. The story of his love may be a short one, though no 
 number of strong words could do more than justice to a man with 
 such a heart and nature as his — true to every instinct of nobility 
 and honor, with an unwavering fidelity to all convictions of right, 
 and whose affection, once bestowed, was placed forever and irre- 
 trievably. 
 
 When Mary Allen weakened in her love for Johnny Cutting, 
 and in the daze of an hour gave way to the blandishments of a 
 fashionably-dressed and jewel-bespangled sprig from the city, who 
 spent a summer vacation in the neighborhood, she blasted the 
 life of one she knew to be her equal, and whose love for her had 
 so increased in the course of their many years of companionship 
 
ODD HOURS. 17 
 
 as to attain a strength and tenderness which the trials of a life- 
 time could not even tarnish. 
 
 Alone, in her father's grounds, beneath the twinkling stars, 
 they met for the last time ; the very rose-leaves let fall their 
 dewy tears as she told him of her perfidous rejection of his hand 
 for that of another. Without a word of reproach, he passed down 
 the avenue into the road, his frame quivering like an aspen in 
 in a storm. As he closed the gate he turned about and halted 
 but for an instant, to catch one more glimpse of her who had 
 been the idol of his life. With uncovered head he waved her a 
 parting kiss, saying in a husky Voice, *' God bless you, Mary my 
 darling! — farewell forever ! " and he was lost to Mary Allen's 
 sight for all time. 
 
 He hastily bade adieu to his parents, telling them he contem- 
 plated a trip to the northwestern part of the country. Packing 
 together a few things, and placing his savings in his purse, he 
 embarked on a Mississippi river steamer, buying a ticket for the 
 young city of St. Paul, at which place he turned his back forever, 
 as he intended, upon his own race. 
 
 Almost at the very outbreak of the war he chanced to hear 
 the story of the attack on Fort Sumter, and became aware of the 
 certainty of a gigantic civil war. He sat musing by his camp- 
 fire the entire night upon the stirring news he had heard, by the 
 merest chance, though a trader who was making a trip through 
 that region, and whom he had met at a gathering of Indians 
 assembled for traffic. By morning his decision was reached. He 
 gave all his effects to an old Indian family, they having nearly 
 always, through their attachment for him, camped in his vicinity, 
 moving their camp whenever he moved his, from one section of 
 that wilderness region to another. He started the day following 
 that on which he had received the news, and in three days' travel 
 he reached Fort Snelling, and was mustered into the army but 
 an hour or two in advance of the writer. He had determined, 
 during his night-revery far away in the wilderness, to do the 
 ■only thing left him to do, of any value to himself or others in the 
 world, by placing himself at the disposal of his country in her 
 hour of need, and if needs be, lay his life upon her altar. 
 
 His regiment passed through many battles, and suffered its 
 
i8 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 full share of the hardships and casualties of the field, and Johnny 
 Cutting stood in the front rank of his command without the loss 
 of an hour from duty. He had been in the thickest of many a 
 bloody battle, and come out with scarcely a scratch. He sought 
 the hottest of the fight, steadily and coolly loading and firing, 
 while in the use of the bayonet his quickness of movement and 
 unwavering courage made him a terrible adversary. 
 
 At the desperate battle of Mission Ridge, the Union army 
 had to charge up the bold range of hills in an endeavor to get a 
 footing on the uplands, where the Confederate army was massed 
 in great force. The Federals were repulsed again and again in 
 their terrible and heroic efforts to capture the Confederate bat- 
 teries posted along the brink of the ridge which were dealing 
 death in all directions among the bluecoats in the plain below. 
 
 The day wore on in its terrible work, and the hillsides and 
 valley were thickly strewn with the dead and the dying; but the 
 heights were taken, and about the Confederate batteries the final 
 struggle ensued. The after-spectacle told plainly the tale of the 
 carnage and the stubbornness with which the enemy had defended 
 their guns. The depleted ranks of the Federals needed no 
 explanation of what the victory had cost them, as the storming 
 regiments bivouacked on the field of blood. 
 
 Among the dead gathered for interment the next day, the 
 hero of this sketch was found, with many other bodies, on the 
 verge of a ledge which he and his companions had scaled. He 
 lay calmly as if in a pleasant trance, his blue eyes gazing upward 
 in death, and his lips parted as with a smile. He was laid 
 tenderly in a soldier's red-stained grave, where he rests in a hero's 
 last slumber. He had given his love to a heartless one, and his 
 affections were blighted. He gave his life to his country, and now 
 wears a patriot's crown. 
 
THE HUNTED HUNTER. 
 
 ■"■■■■lOHN YOUNG flourished in Minnesota from 1848 to 
 W I 1857. I knew him and was with him in 1856, when 
 ^^ B civilization in this corner of the continent was only in 
 it its swaddling clothes. John was what might be called 
 an "odd genius" in his way, and in a crowd would not 
 attract any special attention — I mean in a crowd of 
 frontiermen. Quiet, to an extreme, unassuming, re- 
 tiring and reticent, excepting only with the very few 
 he chose to consider his particular friends. 
 Young was a famous — a professional — hunter and trapper, 
 and he did little else but pursue the chase or take fur, during the 
 proper season. In the summer months he might be found about 
 the settlements, or traveling up and down on the primitive river 
 craft of those early times, simpl}' putting in the portion of the 
 year that was of but little account to him in his profession. He 
 was always a welcome guest at the humble homes of the few set- 
 tlers in the Minnesota River valley ; for, in addition to his quiet, 
 genial manner, he loved children, and was never so happy as 
 when he was holding the little ones on his knee, telling them 
 childish stories, or, with his hunting-knife, whittling out rude 
 little toys for their enjo5mient. He would make his home for 
 weeks at a time with the family of some favorite friend — amusing 
 the children, providing firewood for the housewife, and securing 
 more or less small game for the pioneer's household; and when 
 at last the time arrived for his departure to the far-off wilds for 
 the fall, winter and early spring months, not only the children, 
 but even the older members of the family were simpl}' grief- 
 stricken at the loss, from their humble but happy fireside, of hon- 
 est, true, and noble-hearted John Young. 
 
 Young was a man who never boasted of his feats or advent- 
 ures, and though he was known far and wide as the most daring 
 woodsman in the Territory, yet it was seldom that he would per- 
 mit himself to be drawn into a relation of his vast volume of ex- 
 periences, during the number of years he had stood single-handed 
 
20 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 among the animals of the forest, and defied the prestige of the 
 Sioux and Chippewa Indians. His intrepid and silent character 
 had gained for himself not onlj' the respect but even the super- 
 stitious awe of the two tribes, throughout and beyond whose 
 wild domain he roamed at will. Most of his hunting and trap- 
 ping, however, was done in the country away toward the head of 
 Lake Superior, extending clear north toward the headwaters of 
 the St. Louis River, and west as far as the source of the Missis- 
 sippi — this great area of country lying wholly in what was at that 
 early time designated as the "Chippewa country." He would 
 usually be lost to all human knowledge and sight from about the 
 first of October until May — save onlj' to the Indians who would 
 occasionally meet him, and sometimes entertain him for a day, 
 perhaps, in one of their villages, on his way from one portion of 
 the wilderness to another. When he came out in the spring, how- 
 ever, the rich fur and peltry he would bring, w^ould attest not 
 only his industry, but his valor in the daring life he led. He al- 
 ways sold his furs to one particular trader in the then embryo 
 city of St. Paul. 
 
 It was during the summer of 1856 that he told me something 
 of his previous season's operations, including an adventure w'liich 
 he said was a little out of the usual line of his experiences in the 
 almost boundless solitudes of those northern wilds. 
 
 He had left the settlements at the usual time, and penetrated 
 the countr)^ toward Lake Superior until near Rock River, where 
 he found an encampment of Indians, with wdiom he remained 
 over night. The village was a large one, and with his experience 
 among the sons of the forest, he quickly discovered that some- 
 thing uiuisual exercised the minds of the community. There were 
 many branches of the tribe present that he had never seen before, 
 and many who had never seen a w'hite man — men, women and 
 children, with their rude accoutrements, w^ere assembled there, 
 and apparentl}' without previous arrangement, as everything in 
 the village seemed topsy-turv'-y. 
 
 When he entered the village, near nightfall, he created a 
 commotion that pretty nearly bordered upon consternation. The 
 wolfish dogs, the squaws, the children and manj' of the men, 
 seemed to think that some evil spirit had fallen among them, and 
 their excitement was becoming intense, when an aged chief came 
 
ODD HOURS. 21 
 
 suddenl}' upon the scene of the excitement, and seeing the white 
 hunter, instantly recognized him, and gave him a hearty greet- 
 ing, bidding him welcome to the village with almost wild gestic- 
 ulations of joy. He turned to the affrighted villagers, and 
 addressed them in a loud, commanding voice. He told them that 
 the pale-faced brother who had come among them was a mighty 
 hunter, and a friend of all who were friendly to him, and that 
 instead of being frightened they ought to dance with joy that he 
 had been sent to them by the Great Spirit at a time when they 
 needed the strong words of a brave man so greatly. 
 
 Then the whole village pressed around, and viewed his 
 strange gun, accoutrements and dress, with amazement ; the 
 squaws seemed most impressed with the sight of his long, brown, 
 silken hair, and they begged the old chief to permit them to stroke 
 it with their hands. Young, seeing the wonder they evinced, 
 took his mighty knife from its beaded scabbard and quickly cut oiT 
 a liberal lock and passed it to them, and while they warily handed 
 it from one to another, assembling in groups to examine and ad- 
 mire it, the old chief motioned him away and conducted him to 
 his lodge in the center of the village. 
 
 Here he bade the white hunter to be seated on the carpet of 
 soft skins, and after ordering his women to prepare some wild 
 rice and venison for his guest, he lighted the friendly pipe and, 
 seated together, they took alternate draws of the fragrant kinni- 
 kinic from a long-stemmed stone pipe. 
 
 Young, from the moment he entered the village, felt that 
 some unusual anxiety oppressed the Indians, and when the old 
 chief was seated he promptlj^ asked if anything was amiss with 
 them. His first thought was that the Indians must either be con- 
 templating a war against their always bitter enemy, the Sioux, or 
 else that they had heard of a terrible defeat of their tribe by the 
 Sioux, or something of that sort, and asked the chief if such was 
 the case. The venerable Indian replied negatively to this inquiry, 
 however, and told the hunter he was right in his surmise that his 
 people were troubled, but their anxiety was of quite a different 
 nature. He told him that the "bad spirit beast," away from the 
 far north, had again invaded their hunting grounds, and that his 
 people were sorely troubled, and had come together for counsel. 
 
 Young at once divined the character of tlieir fears, for he re- 
 
22 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 membered that he had heard of the superstitious awe in which 
 the Indians held a certain ferocious wild beast, that at long inter- 
 vals came down into their country from the far northern British 
 Possessions — an animal which he, from the descriptions he had 
 heard of it, and from his knowledge of natural history, called the 
 the British Jaguar. 
 
 These dangerous animals, as he learned from the old chief, 
 only visited the region as far south as the section in which he 
 and his band lived and hunted, once in three, four, or five years ; 
 and aside from their ferocious character, the Indians held their 
 appearance in their country as an omen of terrible import, fore- 
 boding dreadful troubles from smallpox, war, and a scarcity of 
 food of all kinds, unless the beast was destroyed — which was not 
 probable, by any Indian, at least. The chief said that whenever 
 these bad animals came, the Indians rapidly assembled into vil- 
 lages, and during the stay of the beast very little hunting was 
 done, and even that little was done in companies ; no Indian 
 would venture anywhere alone, until this dreaded creature was 
 known to have returned to its far northern habitat — which could 
 be determined by the various bands detecting its tracks going in 
 that general direction toward the approach of spring. 
 
 Young inquired of the chief how long this animal had been 
 in the woods thereabout, in what locality it had been last heard, 
 etc. He was told that its presence had only been discovered a few 
 days before, and it seemed to have its headquarters not far north 
 of Kettle River — the very region to which the hunter was then on 
 his way. He told the chief this, but the old Indian said he sup- 
 posed, now that he had heard of the bad animal being there, he 
 would go no further in that direction. Young assured him, how- 
 ever, that he did not fear the brute, and would try and rid the 
 countrj^ of its presence if possible, and bring peace and happiness 
 again to the chief's band. The old man clasped the white hunter 
 by both hands, and assured him in his own tongue — which Young 
 could speak and understand thoroughly — that such a thing as his 
 capturing the animal would be impossible ; and that he would 
 surely be devoured by the brute if he went within his range ; but 
 if the Great Spirit could permit him to rid his hunting grounds 
 cf this animal " with the evil eye," his band would never be able 
 lo do enough for him. Young laughed at the old chief's fears 
 
ODD HOURS. 23 
 
 and excitement, and told him that the white man's gun was dif- 
 ferent from the Indian's gun, and that his heart was as stout 
 as his gun ; that he would now eat his rice and meat and 
 then lie down to sleep ; that in the morning he would be off early; 
 that he had a camp, which he had occupied the previous season, 
 right in the range of the bad animal, as reported ; and he thought 
 he would be able to re-establish his camp, secure his usual amount 
 of fur and get out alive — at least he should try the experiment. 
 
 During the night the chief informed his band of the detenn- 
 ination of the white hunter, and when Young took his departure 
 for the north the next morning, the whole village assembled to 
 bid him good-speed, in their simple yet emphatic way, upon what 
 they conceived to be a most desperate undertaking. They beat 
 their rude drums, rattled their sacred gourds, danced up and 
 down, jBred off their abominable old Indian-traders' guns, singing 
 their wildest songs, until the hunter was lost both to sight and 
 hearing. 
 
 In a couple of days more. Young arrived at his old camping 
 place, for that section, and spent the first day in putting things 
 to rights for the approaching winter's campaign. Of course in 
 his approach thereto, he had kept his eyes and ears open for signs 
 or sounds of the strange animal within those haunts which, ac- 
 cording to Indian authority, he then was — and he knew his infor- 
 mation on the subject could be well relied upon. The old chief 
 was one of the most reliable men in the tribe, as the hunter had 
 learned when he met him two years before at a general council 
 which took place many miles to the southward of where his band 
 made their home. 
 
 His first night in camp was spent, until a late hour, in put- 
 ting his hunting implements and his steel traps in good condition, 
 and at last he turned into his bunk and was soon wrapped in 
 slumber — though he always slept lightly, the least unusual noise 
 serving to arouse him at any time. 
 
 He did not know how long he had been asleep, but it must 
 have been well toward morning, when he was startled from his 
 slumber by what seemed the most unearthly sound he had ever 
 heard'. He sprang to his feet and grasped his trusty rifle and 
 knife; the sound echoed and re-echoed through the woods, making 
 the lonely wilderness doubly hideous by the terrible shriek, 
 
24 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ending in a sort of deep and plaintive moan, that was certainly 
 the most chilling sound, taken as a whole, that the imagination 
 could create. He listened breathlessly for probably ten minutes 
 or longer, when the shrieking moan began again, occupying 
 nearly a minute from first to last, and seemed a combination of 
 howl, shriek, roar, and a crying, moan-like sound, not wholly 
 unlike the agonized utterance of the human voice. "This is the 
 Indians' 'bad animal,' " thought Young, " and, verily, if its size 
 and ferocious appearance is even half in proportion to its awful 
 voice, it must indeed be a formidable enemy — one that would test 
 even genuine bravery to meet face to face." 
 
 One peculiarity in the sound he very quickly observed ; that 
 was, the difficulty in locating it, exactly. The weird sound sound 
 seemed to be on all sides of him, as it were ; or, one part of its 
 scream seemed to be at one point, while another section of it had 
 the effect of changing its locality a considerable distance, until, 
 after listening to the whole series it was difficult to tell just in 
 what direction it was located. He noticed, however, that the 
 very last part of the sound seemed to most surely point to the 
 place from which it proceeded. He felt relieved, after an hour 
 had passed in studying the singular sound, to know that it was 
 coming no nearer to his camp, and that it remained at a very re- 
 spectful distance. Thus he spent the remainder of the night pay- 
 ing strict attention to an entertainment that was as terrible in its 
 character as it was new to even his ear, which was so well-versed 
 in the multitude of night-sounds in the unexplored wilderness. 
 He was struck by the tremendous power of the beast's voice, 
 which, in the otherwise silent night, seemed to almost jar the 
 forest with its weight. Just in the gray of dawn he heard it for 
 the last time, and apparently at a greater distance. 
 
 After he had eaten his morning meal of dried meat and rice, 
 he prepared his camp to resist the invasion of wild beasts during 
 his day's absence, and after carefully loading his rifle, and get- 
 ting his ammunition, knife, and hand-axe in perfect shape for 
 either offensive or defensive operations, he made a pack of his 
 steel traps and started to spend the day in looking up good trap- 
 ping sites and putting out his traps along the little streams and 
 around small lakes and ponds in the neighborhood. 
 
 As may well be inferred he kept his eyes and ears about him 
 
ODD HOURS. 25 
 
 — no less the latter than the former. He was satisfied that his 
 guess of its character was generally correct, although he had 
 never seen one ; and still, judging from what he had heard during 
 the night just gone, he was convinced that he had underestimated 
 the size and power of the animal. He felt sure of its cat-like 
 character, and knew that to be prepared for its reception meant 
 simply, never to be unprepared, for a single moment, either night 
 or day. He was convinced that it was aware of his presence, and 
 in all probability would hover on his trail, wherever he went. 
 He had confidence in his ability to cope with the animal, provid- 
 ing it did not come upon him when he was not ready for action — 
 a thing he determined not to permit. John Young was simply 
 a dead shot with his rifle, cool and determined in all emergencies, 
 and fearing nothing. 
 
 During the day he found good trapping grounds, with 'signs' 
 indicating that fur was at least as abundant as upon the occasion 
 of his other expedition to this particular part of the country. In 
 early evening he again reached the main camp, without having 
 seen or heard anything of the animal that had so terrified the In- 
 dians, both by its formidable character and the ill-omens they had 
 attached to it. 
 
 He spent the succeeding night in complete readiness for any 
 probable emergency, but the morning came and nothing had been 
 heard of it. To most men this silence would have proven a relief, 
 and been an indication that the animal had withdrawn from the 
 neighborhood ; but Young was not the man to believe in any 
 such theory, nor to relax his watchfulness for an instant. He 
 rather felt more oppressed by the silence, than otherwise. For 
 that day he had laid out a somewhat extended trip, which would 
 necessitate his camping in the wood, wherever night might over- 
 take him. Accordingly, he again put his main camp into condi- 
 tion to leave in safety, and, preparing himself for a two days' 
 jaunt — including a visit to his traps on his return the next day — 
 he set off at an early hour, and passed the day without molesta- 
 tion, or the slightest intimation of the presence of the dangerous 
 animal. 
 
 As night came on. Young prepared his camp in a clump of 
 pines, in the midst of considerable fallen timber. He provided 
 himself with plenty of firewood and kept up a bright little camp- 
 
26 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 fire, as indeed was quite necessary, for the weather was very 
 frosty, although no snow had yet fallen. After his "hunter's 
 supper," he filled his capacious pipe and stretched himself upon 
 the ground for a long reverie and an equally long smoke. Thus 
 he lay, sending up curls of the blue smoke into the frosty air, 
 and dreamily gazed into the burning embers, forming pictures in 
 the fire of many a familiar face and many an enchanting land- 
 scape, in miniature. At last when quite late, he roused up, re- 
 plenished the fire with wood, and spread his blanket upon the 
 ground preparatory to taking a trapper's snooze. But, he had 
 not even laid down, ere he was made emphatically aware that he 
 had other matters to attend to than that of spending the remain- 
 der of the night in sleep — the Jaguar was with him, and had, no 
 doubt, been near him in all his travels of the day, stealthily, from 
 convenient cover, watching his every movement. 
 
 The first knowledge he had of its presence, was one of those 
 unearthly yelling and screaming moans, that made the wilderness 
 fairly quake with its force, and the hunter's hair stand on end. 
 Young snatched his rifle quickly, examined its condition, and 
 with his knife and hand-axe in place, he seated himself near the 
 fire, in the angle of two logs he had previously rolled together, 
 and with his back to the fire, he crouched in a comfortable posi- 
 tion to await developments. Occasionally, with one hand, he 
 would reach to his store of wood, and replenish his camp-fire. 
 At inter\^als of about fifteen minutes the beast would give vent to 
 its awful chorus, and Young was convinced that it was stealthily 
 traveling in a circle around his camp, and at no great distance 
 from him. Gradually, as the hours wore on, the animal evidently 
 contracted its circle, drawing nearer and nearer. Its screams, 
 too, grew less frequent, until at last they ceased altogether. Then 
 it was that the hunter's eyes and ears were primed to their utmost 
 tension, in order that he might not be taken unawares ; his wood 
 was growing scarce, and this gave him no little uneasiness, for 
 he knew that the fire would play no little part in warding off an 
 attack, for there is no wild beast but that is afraid of fire. For a 
 long time he heard nothing, but at last he heard a dry stick break 
 under the foot of the beast, and as it drew nearer in its circles he 
 could keep note of its position by the occasional breaking of a dry 
 twig under its tread, although its crouching step was otherwise 
 
ODD HOURS. 27 
 
 as cat-like and silent as the grave. Finally, even these evidences 
 ceased altogether, and the hunter was completely nonplused. 
 His fire was growing fainter and fainter, and he could scarce have 
 dared to cease his vigilant watch to put on more wood even if 
 there had been more. 
 
 The hunter was now wrought up to a much higher strain of 
 anxiety (as under the circumstances he had ample reason to be) , 
 than he had ever been before in. all his scores of hunting adven- 
 tures. There he was, almost within the grasp of a vastly more 
 ferocious beast than he had ever seen, and of whose mighty power 
 he was fully aware. It had him, too, at a frightful disadvantage ; 
 the brute could see him, through its cat-like orbs, whilst he could 
 not even guess at its exact location — it had its restless and greedy 
 gaze upon him, watching his every motion, while he strained his 
 eyes out into the darkness, all about the circle continually, in a 
 vain hope of even getting a glimpse of its body. 
 
 After what seemed to be an age, Young saw what looked 
 like two glowing balls of fire, as the dim light of the fagots re- 
 flected upon them, just above a big log that lay some four or five 
 rods away ; he knew these to be the eyes of the monster, and 
 monster he now judged it to really be, as the eyes seemed to be 
 many inches apart. His last chance for his life had now come, 
 and, without taking his eyes from those of the terrible animal, 
 he silently, and so gradually as to scarcely move at all, placed his 
 rifle, at a rest, across the log, put his body into an easy position 
 to take as accurate an aim as possible in the darkness. He knew 
 if he missed, it would be "the hunter's last shot," sure enough. 
 The beast remained immovable, its great green-glowing eyes fixed 
 upon him, and its body, no doubt, with muscles tense enough to 
 hurl itself across the space that intervened, at the least positive 
 movement on the part of its coveted prey. 
 
 Young finally obtained a position that enabled him to get a 
 look along his gun -barrel, while the cold sweat stood out all over 
 him, and his whole frame seemed chilled to the marrow ; at last 
 being convinced that he had the best aim possible, he touched the 
 trigger, his old " trusty" bawled out its certain sound, and sent 
 thundering echoes to play among the hills. At the crash of the 
 gun — which was heavily loaded — the beast gave a spring appar- 
 ently twenty feet into the air, with the yell of a stricken demon, 
 
28 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 and fell heavily back to the ground in a death agony — the terri- 
 ble creature had met and succumbed to its master, and that im- 
 mediate region had been cleared of its terror to the simple people 
 who made it their home. 
 
 Young did not inspect the ' ' fruit of his victory ' ' until morn- 
 ing, when he found that he had struck the animal squarely in 
 the forehead ; it was a sort of yellowish gray in color, with tre- 
 mendous legs, claws and teeth, and a monstrous head, being un- 
 doubtedly one of the very largest of its rare species. He could 
 not guess accurately of its weight, but it measured over nine feet 
 from tip to tip, and although furs and peltry were extremely low 
 in the market, he afterward received sixty-eight dollars in gold 
 for its skin, paws and head. 
 
 In the course of a fortnight after he had killed the monster, 
 Young bethought him that it would doubtless be welcome news 
 to the Indian band, who had been driven away from their hunt- 
 ing grounds by the "bad-spirit beast," to know of its death, and 
 to know that probable prosperity would again be their portion. 
 So, he resolved to visit the village, and carry with him the skin, 
 head and paws of the animal, by way of proof to them that the 
 cause of their melancholy had surely been removed. The skin 
 he had already dried and tanned, as well as "prepared " the head 
 and paws, so that their weight was not greater than he could 
 pack. Accordingly, after fixing his camp in good shape to leave 
 three or four days, and putting his traps into proper condition he 
 set out one clear, frosty morning for the village. By taking a 
 direct course he arrived early the next day, and when he apprised 
 the venerable chief and his band of the destruction of their enemy, 
 and spread before them its monster skin, head, and ugly paws, 
 the whole village became well-nigh frantic with rejoicing. John 
 Young was almost worn out by the pulling and hauling they gave 
 him, in their grateful enthusiasm. The trophies were hung up 
 on a high cross-stick laid in upright forks, and during the remain- 
 der of that day and all the following night the Indians held high 
 carnival in honor of the mighty white hunter, and of the victory 
 he had achieved over the evil beast that had caused them such 
 discontent. They danced, beat their drums, yelled and gesticu- 
 lated, and wound up the festival by a grand dog-feast. Young be- 
 ing assigned to the post of honor at the mighty banquet of fat 
 
ODD HOURS. 29 
 
 dog. The old chief tendered the white hunter his beautiful young 
 daughter in marriage, which, in a delicate way. Young declined. 
 He was, however, made the recipient of a host of presents, from 
 the Indians, such as prettily ornamented moccasins, beaded belts, 
 pipes and pouches, while the chief presented him with a magnifi- 
 cent robe made of otter-skins. The band immediately made prep- 
 arations to scatter to their hunting grounds again, and two of the 
 young Indians volunteered to accompany the white hunter back 
 to his camp to assist him in packing his trophy and the long list 
 of presents that had been forced upon him. 
 
 It is probably unnecessary to add that John Young never 
 lacked for true friends and admirers among old Black Otter's 
 band of Chippewas. And, it may be interesting to the readers of 
 these pages to know that a few years later the white hunter did 
 marry the lovable daughter of Black Otter, which result was 
 the consequence of a pretty love-romance. He became a success- 
 ful trader in the far northwest, living happily with his now edu- 
 cated and accomplished Indian wife, who was once known in her 
 tribe by the name of * ' Singing Water. ' ' 
 
AN EARLY. DAY TRIP... Number One. 
 
 ARLY in my fifteenth year I had succeeded in persuad- 
 M ing my paternal parent to permit his prematurely 
 
 ambitious son to " go west," After obtaining consent, 
 I could not "wait a minute," but must be off at once, 
 though it was in the dead of winter. Accordingly, 
 after packing into a capacious carpet-bag a very plain 
 wardrobe, as well as several "very useful books" — 
 including the Holy Bible and Pilgrim's Progress — I 
 gripped my weighty sack, bade adieu to my parents 
 and numerous brothers and sisters, clambered aboard the old mail- 
 coach, and waved a farewell to the old farm, the snow - draped 
 hills, the much-loved brook and the romantic valleys of western 
 Pennsylvania, and started on what to me was a literal "leap in 
 the dark." That was in the mid-winter of 1854-55. Railroads 
 had only "begun," in those days, and both the roads and the 
 trains were crude affairs compared with latter-day equipments. 
 If one traveled all day, at a speed of twenty miles an hour, it was 
 only an ordinary event to be compelled to ' ' wait over "for a day 
 in order to connect with the next road or division that led in the 
 direction one wished to go. A journey from Pittsburgh to St. 
 Louis meant a weary and expensive journey of many days. A 
 railroad journey to the then far-off country on the little-known 
 upper Mississippi River, was an undertaking worthy of the spirit 
 of the hardiest adventurers. Men of the rural districts of the 
 East, in particular, never undertook such a trip save in groups, 
 and even then were regarded as heroes by their old neighbors and 
 friends. 
 
 I started away fully resolved to reach ' ' Minnesota Terri- 
 tory," though its exact location was far from being clear to my 
 mind. But, with my twenty-six dollars — more dollars than I had 
 ever before seen congregated together — I felt sure I could reach 
 Minnesota, and have money enough left to buy considerable of 
 the Territory, beside ; but, I afterward learned that this impres- 
 sion was erroneous. 
 
ODD HOURS. 31 
 
 I had never before been outside the rural township in which 
 I was born, had never seen a railroad, knew no more of the ways 
 of the world than I did of the moon, and did not know the differ- 
 ence between a city and a watermelon patch, or between a hotel 
 and a haystack, practically speaking. 
 
 In due time, I arrived at the town, thirty miles away, where 
 the railroad was reached, and having arrived a couple of hours 
 in advance of the time when the train was supposed to be due, 
 provided it met with good luck, I carried my weighty sack about 
 the streets of the small village, or sat upon it near the wonderful 
 railroad, and contemplated its wonderful character. I speculated 
 greatly as to how the cars could " stick onto " such a thing, how 
 a train of cars looked, and — wondered how much further it might 
 be to Minnesota Territory, as I munched my last doughnut, from 
 home. At last I heard the roar of the approaching train, and as 
 it grew louder and louder, and came nearer — but was hidden from 
 view by a sharp curve near the depot — my knees began to knock 
 together with fear and excitement, and the bag seemed so heavy 
 that I could scarcely lift it. In a moment the locomotive came 
 roaring and plunging around the curve into plain sight, and very 
 near, and I felt exceedingly like an orphan without friends, as I 
 contemplated for the first time a train of cars ; and when the en- 
 gine came up and blew a terrible blast on the first steam-whistle 
 I ever heard, I felt pretty sure the whole thing, including the 
 train, the depot, the railroad, the people, myself, and in all prob- 
 ability the whole world had been exploded, and were going to 
 the eternal slam-bang. After running clear around the little de- 
 pot, clinging to my only treasure, however, I saw that the peo- 
 ple didn't seem to think there was anything very particularly 
 wrong, and so I calmed down a little — though I really wished 
 myself at home, where things were conducted with less clash and 
 thunder. 
 
 After figuring out where the proper entrance to the car was, I 
 made a bold push and was soon ensconsed in a corner-seat, with 
 my grip-sack carefully guarded between my feet ; my greatest 
 fear was that some of my books might be stolen, and particularly 
 that my Bible or Pilgrim's Progress might, in some mysterious 
 way, go astray; hence, I was either hanging to my "grip" or 
 else sitting on it, all the time. 
 
32 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 Soon the cars started, and were shooting along at (to me) a 
 fearful rate of speed, and I felt sure we must all be dashed to 
 pieces — it was probably about an eighteen-mile clip. The fences, 
 trees, and all other objects seemed, to my excited vision, to fly 
 past as if shot out of a gun, and all I could do at times was to shut 
 my eyes, hold tightly to my treasure, and mentally repeat, 
 " Good IvOrd, have mercy on us ! " 
 
 A man soon came along and demanded my money, and asked 
 me where I was going. I stammered out, " Minnesota Terri- 
 tory." He gave a little grunt, and asked if my Pa was along. I 
 told him there "wasn't nobody along ; I was just all alone," and 
 I felt it, and must have looked it. After looking me over a mo- 
 ment — his gaze including my bulging grip-sack, which made me 
 shudder for its safety — he told me my fare would be five dollars 
 to Mansfield, and that was as far as he could ticket me ; he said 
 the train arrived at Mansfield about midnight, and that I could 
 be ticketed from there to Toledo, but would have to stay over at 
 Mansfield until the next evening, when I could go forward. 
 
 Upon our arrival, the hackmen got hold of me (in those days 
 the city hackmen were pirates, without even a pirate's good man- 
 ners), and it was a fight for life, among them, to keep from going 
 crazy, and hold possession of my carpet-bag; after myself and bag 
 had been pulled and hauled around among about twenty shouting 
 hotel villains, one burly fellow picked both myself and my treasure 
 up bodily and chucked me into his hack, locked the door, and 
 drove off. I was now terribly frightened, and fully believed I 
 had been kidnapped and was being driven off to some cave where 
 I would be robbed of my books and clothing, as well as my cash, 
 and then murdered. I rehearsed with great rapidity, over and 
 over again, all the prayers I knew, and would gladly have con- 
 tributed liberally to foreign missions if there had been anybody 
 to pass the hat ; I did everything that seemed good, as I was jost- 
 led about in the dark hack in which I was imprisoned. 
 
 After what seemed an age of dispair, to my great relief, the 
 conveyance drew up in front of a well-lighted "tavern," the 
 big driver opened the door of my prison-house, and after ordering 
 me to give him twenty-five cents, told me that was his tavern and 
 to go in and stay all night. I went in and hesitatingly took a seat 
 in a shaded comer on my carpet-bag, after feeling it over to find 
 
ODD HOURS. 33 
 
 out if any of my books had been stolen in the scrimage, or my 
 treasure had been otherwise damaged. I took a general survey 
 of the place, and felt sure I must have been ushered into a king's 
 palace, so grand did everything appear. Pretty soon a young 
 man, with a beautiful mustache, and gold shirt-buttons came to 
 me and asked who and what I might be. I frankly and tremb- 
 lingly told him my history, when he laughed heartily, as he re- 
 marked : "I guess you have never traveled much, young man." 
 I told him I thought I had traveled a good deal within the past 
 twenty - four hours ; that if I traveled many more days like the 
 last, there wouldn't be anything left of either myself or my car- 
 pet-bag. He said it would cost me two dollars to stop at that 
 hotel till the Toledo train went out the next evening, and that he 
 would show me my room where I could go to bed. I thought it 
 a tremendous sum of money for the privilege offered, but not 
 knowing what else to do, I followed him to a room, and went to 
 bed. I did not retire, however, until I had taken an account of 
 stock in the precious grip-sack, and counted over my money, 
 which I found had shrunk at a fearful rate ; but, having no ade- 
 quate conception of the great distance to be traveled, nor of the 
 thousand and one additional demands that would be made upon 
 me, I did not fear but that I had even yet sufficient wealth to get 
 me through to St, Paul. 
 
 Daylight found me out of bed, and after taking a careful in- 
 voice of my property again, went down stairs, and the landlord — 
 noticing that I was a clear case of "buckwheat" — kindly pro- 
 posed that he should take care of my baggage until the evening 
 train departed, and relieve me from its constant care ; he prom- 
 ised to put it under lock and key,' and so I took the chances, and 
 after breakfast started out, timidly, into the streets of what was 
 to me a big city. 
 
 After wandering about for an hour or so, reading the won- 
 derful signs, and beholding, with mouth agape, all the wonderful 
 things in the store and shop windows, I came to a place where a 
 man had an immense "whirligig," from the long arms of which 
 were suspended wooden horses, and carriage-seats, upon which 
 one could ride (as I learned by listening to what the man said) a 
 certain number of times around, for ten cents, and could either 
 ride astride one of the wooden horses or in one of the seats, as he 
 
34 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 chose. A large crowd of idle men and cheering street boys were 
 present and whenever the owner got his horses and seats full, he 
 would start his machine and away they would go, the whole gang 
 of cheering, yelling riders, until a hundred rounds had been cov- 
 ered, when the thing would pull up and a fresh load be taken on, 
 or the same riders would go again, by repeating the ten-cent part 
 of the program. 
 
 Of course, this just beat anything I had ever heard of, and it 
 did not take long to convince me that ten cents would be well in- 
 vested in a hundred trips around this sweeping swing, and one of 
 the beautiful wooden horses was my choice, by a large majority. 
 
 I climbed upon a beautiful dapple-gray horse with pink ears, 
 paid my dime to the man, and soon all the seats were full and 
 all the horses had their mounts, and the revolving swing started ; 
 I had forgotten, completely — in my admiration of such a grand 
 amusement establishment — that even to ride in a common swing 
 made me deathly sick, much less, one of these flying contrivances 
 going in a circle, and before I remembered this, or discovered 
 that I was on a machine that was ten-fold more ' ' sickening ' ' 
 than a common forward-and-back swing, it was going so fast that 
 to jump off would have been death or broken limbs, and I soon 
 discovered to my horror that I was in for what would probably 
 prove "a ride to ruin," so far as I was concerned. I tried to yell 
 to the proprietor to stop and let me off, but the din and clatter 
 drowned my voice ; I waved my hat at him, and motioned with 
 my legs, in the most desperate manner, but all to no purpose, and 
 so I resigned myself to my fate, and devoted my rapidly "failing 
 health ' ' to the task of hanging on to my dapple-gray horse with 
 pink ears. Very soon, the horses, and the whole world was 
 whirling like a buzz-wheel, and I could scarcely hold to my wooden 
 horse. Pretty soon I leaned forward and hung on with both 
 hands locked about my horse's neck, whilst groans of agony went 
 up, as my contribution to the general jubilee, and the whole 
 crowd set up a howl of delight at the sight of my grief. I have 
 read of the agonies of sea-sickness, and how land-lubbers fairly 
 threw up their boots over the bulwarks — and how at one moment 
 they feared they were going to die, and the next moment feared 
 they wouldn't die — but I beg leave to assert that the worst case 
 of sea-sickness recorded, either in history or out of it, was a sea- 
 
ODD HOURS. 35 
 
 son of profound bliss compared with my ride on that whirligig ; 
 such retching and bodily contortions ; such awful sensations, as I 
 went round and round, to the music of an asthmatic hurdy-gurdy 
 and the yells and derisive laughter of the crowd, wanting to die 
 and end it all, and yet clinging to my horse for fear I should fall 
 off and be dashed to pieces. But everything has an ending, and 
 that ten-cent ride was no exception, ending after what seemed an 
 age of agony, and I rolled off and lay limp as a rag on the ground 
 — my hat gone, my jeans pants ripped, my long hair all over my 
 face, which had grown alternately ashen and blue. I became un- 
 conscious, and after an hour I awoke and found myself in a near- 
 by grocery, with a doctor administering mild stimulants with a 
 tin teaspoon. After a time, the groceryman's boy showed me 
 the way back to the hotel, where I was glad to find that my grip- 
 sack was safe, and for three or four hours I lay on the bed, at the 
 end of which time the world had become steadied down once 
 more, my nerves became settled, though I was very weak. A cup 
 of tea and a piece of toast kindly sent me by the landlord put my 
 internal fixtures into a pacified and somewhat improved condi- 
 tion, so that at the hour of departure I was able to take command 
 of my carpet-bag once more. The landlord, with true generosity, 
 said he guessed I had had a rough enough experience in Mans- 
 field, and did not charge me anything for my stay. From that 
 day to this, I cannot think of one of those machines without feel- 
 ing sick at the stomach, and to see one in motion is unbearable. 
 
 After stammering out my thanks to the kind host, I found 
 the depot after a deal of inquiry along the streets, found the place 
 to buy a ticket to Toledo, and got aboard the right car, after 
 boarding two or three wrong ones, and coming near being run over 
 by a switch-engine. After getting m.3^self and my baggage safely 
 stowed away in a comer, I looked over my money and found I 
 had fourteen dollars and sixty cents of a balance on hand; but, 
 thinking Toledo couldn't be so very far from St. Paul, I consoled 
 myself, and during the night that followed I curled down on top 
 of my "grip," and wore away the weary night in cat-naps and 
 dreaming of riding on that whirligig, and morning found me 
 shrunken in body, troubled in spirit and haggard in appearance. 
 
 I arrived in Toledo in a cold, drizzling rain, and luckily 
 escapde the hackmen, with my property, after having been nearly 
 
36 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 pulled in two, and started up through the dreary, muddy town, 
 looking cautiously along for some one with a benevolent face of 
 whom I could inquire when and from where I could start for Chi- 
 cago. My load seemed very heavy, and it was with difficulty I 
 could carry it at all, feeling weak and weary as I did. Finally, 
 an old peanut man showed me the big steam ferry upon which I 
 should have to cross the harbor to the Chicago depot. By watch- 
 ing the big folk, after crossing over, and by a good deal of inquiry 
 I finally found myself aboard the Chicago-bound train, with but 
 five dollars and thirty -five cents left. So great had been my con- 
 cern, that it was not until noon that I remembered not having 
 had anything to eat, excepting the toast and tea, since the morn- 
 ing of the previous day ; and at Michigan City I went into a cof- 
 fee-house near the depot and ate twenty cents' worth of bread 
 and coffee, and bought five cents' worth of peanuts. 
 
 Near midnight I landed in Chicago, amid a howling mob of 
 hotel-runners, rain, mud and snow, with no more idea of where I 
 was — aside from the name — than if dropped into another world. 
 I had inquired on the cars, and had learned that I would have to 
 go from Chicago to Galena ; that the latter place was the highest 
 point on the Mississippi River that could be reached by railroad ; 
 that there I would have to wait until the river opened in the spring 
 before I could proceed on the long river journey to the new town 
 of St. Paul ; I also learned that the fare from Chicago to Galena 
 was exactly five dollars. All this was a precious lot of informa- 
 tion to think over, surely — for a boy of fourteen, very small and 
 slight for his age, with, of course, absolutely no knowledge of the 
 world, and who, if he ate nothing more, would land in the wild, 
 lead-mining camp called Galena, with but ten cents in the treas- 
 ury, with many weeks to wait and hundreds of miles, up into an 
 almost unknown country, still to go. 
 
 After asking many questions, and receiving many a heartless 
 rebuff and derisive reply, I finally, by almost superhuman exer- 
 tion in packing my load, found a hotel nearly a mile from the 
 depot, which I timidly entered, and seated myself on my carpet- 
 bag in the shadow of one of the great pillars in the palatial office 
 of the large, brilliant hotel — one of the best and largest in the 
 city. I was exceedingly weary, and by this time I fully realized 
 the desperate situation that confronted me, and my spirits, un- 
 
ODD HOURS. 37 
 
 aided by the support of sufficient food, began to flag; I was not 
 only ashamed to beg, but was afraid to let my destitute condition 
 be known — imagining that my plight was the first and only simi- 
 lar misfortune that had ever befallen any one before ; I shrank 
 from the thought of making it known, and resolved to go on until 
 the last penny was expended, and then trust to Providence for the 
 balance — that Providence in a belief of whose never-failing love 
 I had been strictly reared. 
 
 It was not long after I had entered the hotel, before the last 
 guest had retired, and I was soon discovered by the man on duty 
 in the place, who approached me, and in a gruff voice and with a 
 lowering brow, demanded : 
 
 " Here, you young rooster, what are you doing here? — you'd 
 better carry yourself out o' here in less 'n a flyin' minute ! " 
 
 I seized my satchel and, with a terrible sense of guilt, or 
 something of a similar feeling, I made for the doorway as fast as 
 possible ; but, turning and giving the man a frightened look, he 
 seemed to relent, and in a milder tone called out : 
 
 " I say, boy, hold on a minute." I stopped on the threshold, 
 when he continued : " Come back, and tell me what you are do- 
 ing around here, anyway." 
 
 I hesitatingly sank into a chair near where he was standing, 
 and in answer to his questions, told him who I was, and whither 
 I was bound. Apparently being convinced of my honesty, he 
 said I could occupy a chair until morning, now near at hand, and 
 told me when the Galena train started out — at eight o'clock — and 
 gave me a general idea of the direction to the depot, though he 
 said it was nearly two miles distant. Thanking him for his kind- 
 ness, I " snuggled down " into the big chair, with my sack on my 
 knees, and enjoyed an uneasy kind of sleep until daylight, when 
 I shouldered my more weighty than valuable property and sallied 
 forth to find the depot. 
 
 By dint of great labor, I found it barely in time, and my ap- 
 pearance must have been much the same as when I finished the 
 whirligig ride at Mansfield. In my rambles in search of the depot 
 I had passed through the hands of a couple of burly newsboys, 
 who seemed to feel it their religious duty to give me a very thor- 
 ough "walloping;" my concern was not so acute for myself as 
 for my glazed-carpet-bag, which I had saved only by putting up 
 
38 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 a heroic fight, born by desperation ; the poor grip-sack was worse 
 used up than I was when I at last reached the depot, having one 
 side kicked in, my precious books badly jammed, and one of the 
 handles of the sack torn off. At the depot I paid all my money 
 for a ticket to Galena, excepting ten cents, and left Chicago with 
 many a heart-ache (not to mention stomach-cramp) , wondering 
 what was to happen next, for my special edification, with a dozen 
 sore spots contributed by the newsboys, and a very poor opinion 
 of Chicago hospitality in general. During the day, as the train 
 dragged slowly along over the bumpy road to the westward, I got 
 out my needle and thread and, as far as possible, made 2i-mends 
 in my wardrobe, and partially reconstructed the poor, dilapidated 
 old grip-sack. 
 
 I had all day to reflect upon how I was ' ' getting on in the 
 world," and finally convinced myself that during the three days 
 I had been a "traveler in strange lands," I had learned more 
 than in all my bom-days before — in fact, Ifelt that I had. I also 
 learned by hearing others talk, that Galena was a miserable town 
 in which to remain until navigation opened ; that Dubuque was 
 a much finer young town in which to sojourn (but how was I to 
 "sojourn" in Galena, Dubuque, or elsewhere?) that the only 
 way, at that season, to get from Galena to Dubuque, was to tra- 
 verse a wild and desolate region of country a distance of twenty 
 miles, to Dunleith, and there cross the river to Dubuque, on the 
 Iowa side, on the steam ferry (which was able to keep a track 
 open through the ice) and which would cost ten cents. I had 
 just that amount of money left, but how was I ever to reach the 
 hamlet of Dunleith ? Already nearly three days with scarcely 
 anything to eat, and another day and night lying between, with 
 my sacred property, weighing some thirty pounds, and with which 
 I would no sooner think of parting than of having a double-tooth 
 pulled that didn't ache — particularly, with my "good books." 
 And, right here, I am about to relate one of the most noteworthy 
 cases of physical endurance that has ever occurred in the West. 
 
 I can scarcely, even to this day, explain to my own satisfac- 
 tion what it was that prevented me from asking for something to 
 eat; but, I had, with "greenhorn" innocence, become impressed 
 with the idea that all this rushing, selfish-appearing body of hu- 
 manity had turned into enemies. Retiring and sensitive, at that 
 
ODD HOURS. 39 
 
 age, to the verge of preposterousness, and withal possessed with 
 a self -pride that formed an insurmountable barrier between my- 
 self and anything that savored of "begging," even had I not 
 considered it positively dangerous to ask for anything without 
 paying all that was required ; and of course my early training had 
 been of the kind that taught me that it was far better to die than 
 to take even the most trifling thing without the knowledge of its 
 owner. Thus, amid a most terrible condition of the wild roads 
 and the worst possible winter w^eather, I arrived at Galena some 
 time after dark, of a black and terribly stormy night ; and, by 
 following in the wake of the crowd for more than a mile, from 
 the end of the unfinished railroad into the town, through mud 
 and snow knee-deep, I at last found myself in the office of the 
 principal hotel in the sorry-looking, swamp-like town, completely 
 wet, bedaubed with mud, and weary and faint to the very last 
 degree. 
 
 Here I met with some decidedly new features in my eventful 
 journey. The hotel was literally jammed full of travelers, adven- 
 turers, frontiersmen, and among the rest, twenty Winnebago In- 
 dian chiefs, who had reached there the day before on their return 
 from Washington, whither they had been to make a treaty with 
 their Great Father, the President. I had never seen an Indian 
 before, and when I suddenly found myself in the midst of a great 
 crowd of these stalwart, painted, feather-bedecked and blanketed 
 warriors, with knives, tomahawks, and war-clubs lashed to them, 
 I certainly felt that life with me was to be only a brief season of 
 human and scalped misery. But, although in continual fear of 
 them all of that, to me, dreadful night (for I was thoroughly 
 read up on Indian massacres and other atrocities) , I finally con- 
 cluded that by keeping in a shady corner, and conducting myself 
 with the greatest possible decorum, I might be spared ; for I no- 
 ticed that the white guests were quite familiar with them, and 
 the Indians seemed to be in a friendly mood. 
 
 Supper was soon announced, and the guests were summoned 
 by a fellow beating, with a sort of rolling-stroke, on a terrible 
 gong ; I had never heard one of these tumultuous carnage - dis- 
 pensers before, and at first, it nearly frightened what little life I 
 had left, out of me — though the Indians seemed delighted with 
 it ; doubtless they were thinking what a lovely tom-tom it would 
 
40 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 make for their war-dances, or to beat when they were torturing 
 their white victims at the stake, as I imagined ; at any rate, they 
 grinned as though they thought it the "music of the spheres." 
 Of course, I was only too glad to be permitted to remain inside, 
 without scarcely daring to even look into the adjoining room 
 where the steaming viands sent out their luscious odors, only to 
 aggravate my starving sensations. 
 
 It was late when all the guests had retired, and the sav- 
 ages spread their blankets around on the office floor, all around 
 me, and alternately slept, talked in their singular tongue, or 
 smoked their pipes, until the room was blue with smoke. There 
 I sat, at last, all alone with these armed red-skins, afraid to 
 even move, and watching their every motion, through all that 
 painful and never to be forgotten night. 
 
 Morning came at last, after a seeming age, and such a 
 morning ! It had snowed nearly a foot, on top of the almost 
 bottomless mud, and was dark and murky overhead. Breakfast 
 was announced, the guests all responded gaily to the call of the 
 noisy gong, after having their morning dram at the bar, and 
 I almost at one time, made up my mind to ask the clerk for 
 something to eat ; but my heart failed me and I did not do it. 
 I could see that the town was a repulsive looking place, and as 
 I had heard half a dozen of the men agree to undertake the 
 trip through to Dubuque on foot, despite the horrible condition 
 of the road, or trail rather, I resolved to follow in their wake, 
 though I had also heard them describe the route as lying through 
 a barren, wolf -beset and desolate country, and full of old min- 
 ing-holes. 
 
 After breakfast they fixed themselves completely for the 
 trip ; high boots, and unincumbered by carpet-sacks, they filled 
 their flasks with stimulants, their cases with cigars, and finally 
 all started in high spirits through the mud and snow, with the 
 writer hereof at a respectful distance in the rear, with my car- 
 pet-sack on a short stick across my shoulder. 
 
 I had no more than entered the barrens in rear of the 
 town when I began to realize that my undertaking was a des- 
 perate one, with such a load, and in my condition, but still, 
 something seemed to impel me forward through the mud and 
 snow, nearly knee-deep. I seemed to feel that if I could only 
 
ODD HOURS. 41 
 
 reach Dubuque, it would be vastly better, because it would be. 
 just so much farther on my journey, and could not but prove 
 a more desirable place than Galena in which to seek employ- 
 ment. 
 
 For a distance of three or four miles I kept close to the 
 well-fed travelers, though none of them deigned to notice me, 
 save to occasionally turn about and, with a laugh, yell out, 
 "Hurry up. Bub, or the wolves will make a dinner of you, sure 
 as shootin' ! " and other "jolly" remarks of a similar character. 
 After a time, I began to fall to the rear, and finally, in spite of 
 my efforts to keep up, they passed out of my sight entirely. I 
 shall not attempt to fully portray my experiences during that 
 day, because such experiences are hidden pictures from the best 
 brush or pen. With nothing to eat for three days, no rest or 
 sleep, I found myself in the midst of a wilderness, alone, starving, 
 weighed down by a load too heavy for even a man to carry, over 
 such roads. After traveling till nearly noon, as I imagined, I 
 fell exhausted in the snow, and lay almost unconscious for a 
 time, when I aroused again, and started on, with only a desper- 
 ate resolution as my support. I knew, every time I fell — which 
 grew more frequent as the day wore on — that if I lay until my 
 joints became stiffened and set — and they seemed to be growing 
 solidly together — that I should perish through sheer helplessness, 
 or speedily be devoured by wolves, which were then abundant in 
 that wild region. So, with all the horrors of my situation pict- 
 ured before my eyes, I would scarcely more than fall to the ground 
 ere I would begin the struggle to get up again. My feelings can 
 neither be conceived nor described ; and my ghastly and crazed 
 appearance must have corresponded well with my awful physical 
 sensations. 
 
 I must have been a picture of insane distress when, just be- 
 fore dark, I reached the wharf at Dunleith, and staggered aboard 
 the steam ferry, that was just pulling out for her last trip for 
 the day, through the ice, across the great river. In a moment 
 after starting, and as I stood holding to the railing, the collector 
 came around, and I gave him my last dime ; then crippling along 
 to the low cabin, I dropped my sack to the floor, fell prone upon 
 a long bench, and then — "the light went out." 
 
 Up to this time, my journey had certainly been an eventful 
 
42 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 one, and one in which human endurance had been tested to the 
 quick. I have always considered that trip a thorough test of 
 what a human being can endure, and yet survive. 
 
 When I first realized where I was — or rather, that I was still 
 alive — after passing into unconsciousness on the ferry, I found I 
 had been carried to the City Hotel, in Dubuque, by direction of 
 some kind-hearted gentleman, who saw me fall, and was lying on 
 a sofa in a beautifully furnished apartment, with a waiter and a 
 physician seated near me, apparently watching with deep interest 
 the result of the trial, the particulars of which they as yet knew 
 nothing. The doctor afterward told me he had ' ' never before 
 reached quite so deep into a grave to recover a patient." My 
 first conscious inquiry was concerning the whereabouts of my car- 
 pet-sack, and the waiter assured me that it was safe in the office 
 of the hotel — oh, that precious property ! It was near morning, 
 and the doctor, after seeing me safely revived, left medicine, and 
 said he would call again during the day. I could not move even 
 a muscle, much less a limb, and it was a week ere I could walk 
 about, meantime having suffered greatly, in every way. 
 
 The landlord, whose name I have forgotten, had meantime 
 inquired into my history, and assured me that I should be taken 
 care of until the upper river opened, and then he would see that 
 some way was provided for my reaching St. Paul ; and that when 
 I was able, he had some light duties about the hotel which I could 
 do for him. It is scarcely needful to say that as soon as possible, 
 and even sooner than he would permit, I reported to my kind 
 benefactor for duty. 
 
 [Itkm — While I was here, a ' ' gentleman gambler ' ' who was 
 a guest at this hotel (in those days the river-steamers were float- 
 ing gambling palaces, and every river town had its swell gaming 
 houses) , had been nearly killed in a quarrel at the gaming-table, 
 and, much to my surprise, he asked that I be assigned as his at- 
 tendant under the doctor. I waited on him during the day and 
 occupied a cot in his room at night. When at last he had suffi- 
 ciently recovered to dispense with my services, he called me to 
 his side, and said : " My boy, you are a good, innocent boy, and 
 I want you to always remain so ; I have been a gambler for years, 
 and will always remain one — it is my profession. But, I want 
 you to promise me that you will never become a gambler. You 
 
ODD HOURS. 43 
 
 have been so patient and kind with me since I have laid here, 
 bruised and wounded, that I shall never forget you ; you have 
 done so much more for me than I did for you." At this remark 
 I looked up at him through my tears of sympathy, inquiringly. 
 He smiled faintly but most kindly and continued : " I see you 
 would ask a question, but I anticipate it : Some weeks ago I had 
 been over at the village of Dunleith, spending the day in gaming, 
 and was coming back by the last evening boat, when I saw a boy 
 about your size fall in a faint ; I could do no less than gather up 
 the little fellow and his heavy satchel and have him taken in a 
 cab to my hotel, send for a doctor, procure one of the waiters to 
 watch by him, and arrange with the landlord for his keeping un- 
 til the boy recovered, when he promised to look after him ; I left 
 town, on a little professional tour, and had only returned the even- 
 ing before I was hurt; and now I thank you again, my dear 
 boy, for your brotherly kindness to me since I was hurt ; I see 
 you need a more becoming and new spring suit ; take this note to 
 the clothing dealer in the next block above, but across the street, 
 and do just as he says. Good-bye, now, as I am going away for 
 a time, and may not see you again — there, there, now, no more 
 tears, and as for thanks, I am your debtor still." Before I real- 
 ized the full situation he had gone down stairs to the street door, 
 leaning slightly on the porter's shoulder, entered a carriage and 
 had driven away. The impression made upon my still uncouth 
 mind by this man and his singular gratitude and generosity, both 
 before and after his unfortunate accident, left its indelible stamp 
 upon my young, impressionable mind. That afternoon I pre- 
 sented the very brief note at the clothing store, which resulted in 
 my becoming possessed of my first modish suit of clothes, through 
 the generosity of a matt, though a gambler, whom I never heard 
 of afterward, though affectionately remembered, always.] 
 
 After some weeks I again took sick, and for a time the bal- 
 ance between life and death quivered dubiously ; my wiry consti- 
 tution, finally triumphed, and I again became convalescent. This 
 was the spring when the cholera broke out all along the river 
 with such terrible fatality, and every steamer that came from be- 
 low was laden with death in its most horrible form. 
 
 The landlord finally told me one morning that if I was bent 
 upon going through to St. Paul, the steamer " Hamburg" would 
 
44 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 arrive some time during the day, and her master, Captain Estes, 
 being a warm personal friend of his, he would introduce me to 
 him, and request that he set me down in St. Paul as safe and 
 sound as circumstances would permit, which he felt sure the Cap- 
 tain would do. 
 
 Accordingly, when the " Hamburg" arrived, my noble friend 
 consigned me and my historic satchel to the care of the good Cap- 
 tain, and, with real feeling, asked him to look after my welfare, 
 which the bluff, but kind-hearted, old skipper promised to do — 
 it was the chance of my dying with cholera which my two friends 
 feared. The grand old steamer "Hamburg" now "sleeps" at 
 the bottom of I,ake Pepin, near the Minnesota shore, where she 
 was wrecked some years later. The point there, is now called 
 Hamburg Point, Where the bones of dear old Captain Estes now 
 rest, I know not ; but I pray that he "sleeps well," wherever be 
 his grave. 
 
 Though other steamers which had come from below were 
 freighted with death, the Hamburg could certainly claim the palm 
 in that matter, and the slow trip up the river was a veritable jour- 
 ney of death. At every landing, a greater or less number of dead 
 were put ashore from among the four or five hundred passengers, 
 and at every woodpile, where the steamer took on wood, corpses 
 were hastily interred in shallow and unmarked graves by the deck- 
 hands. At what was then called LaCrosse Landing, I painfully 
 remember, there were seven brothers and sisters laid side by side, 
 with their dead mother, among other dead, on the wharf, and as 
 the boat pulled away, I beheld — the last object I saw, beneath 
 the weird and wavering light of the boat's primitive pitch-pine 
 torches — the frantic husband and father kneeling and wailing 
 over his dead ones, gone from him in a day, through the horrors 
 of cholera, to another Land from the one they had started for 
 with such bright hopes for the future. 
 
 Captain Estes was indeed very, very kind ; his solicitude for 
 my safety and care was all that the fondest father could have be- 
 stowed, and although I speedily drifted into the first stages of 
 the dreadful disease that was constantly claiming new victims by 
 the score, he, with his great experience, doctored me and watched 
 my condition so closely, that he battled away the disease, so that 
 when I reached St. Paul, though but a respectable skeleton, I had 
 
ODD HOURS. 45 
 
 safely passed the point of danger, and in time regained my wonted 
 health and vigor, through the influence of the salubrious climate 
 of what, though then but a Territory of undreamed-of resources, 
 at last became my beloved and life-adopted State ; the land of 
 blue skies, of clear, sweet waters, of ten thousand romantically 
 embosomed lakes, of matchless soil and unrivaled natural scenery 
 — Minnesota. 
 
 AN EARLY. DAY TRIP... Number Two. 
 
 FTER spending a year and a half among the Indians 
 >% and early-day flatboatmen of the Minnesota River val- 
 ^ ^ ley — also called in those days, St. Peter River — my 
 conscience began to prick, because I had left the fire- 
 side of my parents at so young an age, and felt that I 
 had only remained at home until I had barely ceased 
 to be a charge, and ought to have remained a few years 
 longer, and honestly endeavored to work out a ' ' bill 
 for my early keeping," that in the light of reason, as 
 began to view it, stood recorded against me. I felt, in fact, as if 
 I had not acted fairly by my kind parents, who had devoted the 
 best years of their lives to the care and training of their numer- 
 ous children, and I resolved to lose no time in returning t?o the 
 humble homestead of my father and tender him my services. I 
 probably would never have thought of this sin of omission of 
 which I stood self -charged, but for the fact that I had grown ex- 
 tremely homesick, and longed for the familiar scenes of my child- 
 hood. This fact, I have no doubt, had a big influence in bringing 
 me to a sense of duty, and quickening within me the spark of 
 filial affection. 
 
 During the year and a half spent in the wilds of eaf ly Min- 
 nesota, I had learned but little of the ways of the world, save 
 what might be gleaned in the cook-house of a Minnesota River 
 flatboat, while serving up salt-pork, beans, tea and blue-tinted 
 biscuits for a crew of Frenchmen, who talked all the time, night 
 and day, but who never spoke English excepting when they de- 
 sired me to understand that it was time for the cook to draw a 
 bucketful of whisky from a barrel of the government supplies — 
 
46 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 in those days most of the freight boated up the river consisted of 
 government goods for the frontier military posts and Indian agen- 
 cies — and turn in a bucketful of river-water, to make whole the 
 contents of the barrel. Still, being of a somewhat observing turn 
 of mind, I learned some things, while others were forced upon 
 my mind, regardless of any natural disposition on my part to 
 gather points. I learned all about how flatboating was done on a 
 difficult river in a wild and unsettled country, and particularly 
 the mysteries of furnishing the most wretched victuals from the 
 most wretched kinds of raw materials — the position of cook and 
 chef being the only degree in the art of flatboating that my years 
 or muscle would at that time permit me to become a recognized 
 master in. It was a most charming spectacle to see the dainty 
 soups I dished up for the French crew, by boiling a ten-pound 
 chunk of rank salt pork all forenoon in a sheet-iron kettle, and 
 then served hot in tin pans. There would be about two inches of 
 clear grease in each pan to be eaten off before they reached the 
 salt-brine below. But these Frenchmen, most of whom had spent 
 years as voyageurs in the service of the Hudson Bay Company, 
 always praised my mess-pork soup, or bouillon, as being extremely 
 fine ; aside from the grease, it would be so salty that a single 
 mouthful of it would have turned the stomach of Lot's wife. 
 But I cannot go into the details of a flatboatman'slife on fron- 
 tier waters, because it would require the latitude of a small vol- 
 ume to do justice to the life and experiences of a jolly flatboatman 
 in those early days, on the murky waters of the mosquito-bound 
 and Indian-hampered Minnesota River. 
 
 Late in the autumn of 1856, found me a passenger on a down- 
 river steamer, with a wardrobe which was a sort of compromise 
 between that worn by a "river-rat" and an average Indian boy, 
 with a hollow-sided grip-sack — my precious books had long since 
 succumbed to wind and weather, and other too strenuous influ- 
 ences to be withstood by anything less durable than iron or steel 
 — with a little less than a hundred dollars in my pocket, as the 
 proceeds of eighteen months' experience on the ragged edge of civ- 
 ilization. 
 
 As the Christmas snow was falling in great soft flakes, only 
 to melt on the wet and muddy earth as fast as they fell, a lone 
 juvenile might have been seen, in the uncertain light of late even- 
 
ODD HOURS. 47 
 
 ing, approaching his childhood's humble home, guided by famil- 
 iar objects, toward the cheerful light that glowed from the south 
 windows out upon the beautiful, snowy night-scene. This home 
 was the paternal headquarters so yearningly longed for by the 
 semi-prodigal wanderer in strange lands. My unheralded entre 
 to the family circle created a convulsion of the domestic elements 
 which in extent and severity was all that could have been desired. 
 The following morning I "explained my position," and en- 
 deavored to make my father and my good step-mother understand 
 how much I had suffered in mind at having so selfishly forsaken 
 them at so premature an age, without even offering my services 
 on the farm for six years longer, or during my minority. They 
 did not seem to realize, however, that they had sustained any 
 very serious loss ; or, if they had, the loss, either past or prospec- 
 tive, had not broken in upon their minds with any perceptible 
 jolt. The old gentleman suggested that I attend school during 
 the winter at the log schoolhouse in the hollow, and in the spring 
 I should be at liberty to continue my far western observations so 
 far as he was concerned. But, indeed, by the time spring had 
 arrived I needed no admonitory advice to again "go west." If 
 my longing to return home was severe, my anguish to head once 
 more to'ard the land of the Dakotahs was infinitely worse, and 
 all I learned at the log schoolhouse in the hollow, was to forget a 
 good deal of what I knew before — as I stared vacantly, my eyes 
 on the enchanting pages of a Cobb's spelling-book, and my mind 
 away in the great, free Northwest, amid the fascinating scenes, 
 and wild life with which I had been surrounded during my ab- 
 sence. 
 
 Springtime came at last, and, accompanied by a great stal- 
 wart production of that foot-hill region, much older than myself, 
 
 named John W , I again, and for the last time, turned my 
 
 back upon the rocky glens and mossy hillsides of my native hab- 
 itat. John had sought this opportunity to go out into the world 
 with one who, by reason of experience, could take care of "his 
 mamma's precious boy," and I rather unwisely, as it afterward 
 proved, accepted the precious charge from the hands of a fond 
 and doting mother. 
 
 Of course I claimed, and John cheerfully conceded to me the 
 honor of being ' ' master of ceremonies ' ' in the travels that lay 
 
48 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 before us, and I resolved, this time, to travel wholly by river (a 
 journey running up toward two thousand miles) , taking passage 
 at Pittsburgh, By this time I flattered myself that I knew a thing 
 or two about travel and the ways of the earth, although it was'nt 
 many moons later that I discovered there was also a ' ' thing or 
 two" I had not before discovered. 
 
 John was verdant in all ways possible, and was just at that 
 age when he was neither attractive nor ' ' convincing ' ' in his ap- 
 pearance, and even when addressed, he could scarcely drawl out 
 the simplest answer before the questioner had well-nigh forgotten 
 what it was he asked him. In short, and with no intention on 
 my part to do poor, simple-minded John an injustice, he was nev- 
 ertheless the most abominable case of ' ' tumip-sheller ' ' that ever 
 escaped from the laurel brush of his native state. 
 
 Arriving at Pittsburgh, in due time, we found a big side- 
 wheel steamboat about to start for St. Louis, and thereon took 
 passage, and were assigned to the stateroom immediately forward 
 of the starboard wheel — a room always ' * reserved ' ' for any pas- 
 sengers who have the appearance of persons who are the least 
 likely to make trouble about it, or to demand reduced fare if they 
 consent to stay in such a cave of gloom, and original pandemo- 
 nium. 'She was a large boat, and had in tow two immense barges 
 loaded with railroad-iron (rails). She left port, too, crowded 
 with passengers, below and above, most of them bound for the 
 then just opening commonwealth of Kansas. There was such a 
 crowd of people on board as to make it very uncomfortable in any 
 part of the great steamer, and with her tow of the two heavy 
 barges made the passage down the Ohio and up the Mississippi to 
 St. lyouis a very slow and almost painfully tedious one. 
 
 After buying our tickets, John and myself had fifty dollars 
 between us, with which to pay our fare from St. Louis to St. 
 Paul. We had scarcely gotten out of sight of Pittsburgh when 
 one of the passengers fell overboard — literally crowded off the 
 lower deck and was drowned before he could be reached by the 
 small boats ; during the whole trip to St. Louis there were seven 
 of the passengers lost, at different points along the way, in the 
 same manner. All this, with the prevalence of a good deal of 
 sickness, resulting in several deaths, below-decks, made the trip 
 of about ten days to St. Louis, one to be remembered aside from 
 
ODD HOURS. 49 
 
 the many other accidents that transpired, which were calculated 
 to harrow up the souls, and try the bravery of two such precious 
 greenhorns as John and myself — particularly John. 
 
 Immediately after leaving Pittsburgh my traveling compan- 
 ion began to show signs of distress, and took to his bed largel3\ 
 It only required a day or two to prove the cause of his indisposi- 
 tion. He had been taken down with the mumps ! and he had, 
 too, the " most complete set " of mumps I ever beheld. His face 
 was naturally short and round, covered over by a stumpy beard, 
 and in a couple of days his face was something less than two feet 
 horizontally, with a perpendicular elevation of about eight inches. 
 When John's jaws began to spread, he felt better, somewhat, and 
 spent some time out of his room — which was a terrible place, even 
 for a well person. It was smotheringly close, and the awful car- 
 nage of the great wheel made one's hair stand ; and it seemed as 
 though we were liable to be crushed by it at any moment ; it was, 
 no doubt, a room that had been respectfully dedicated to the use 
 of " greenhorns " ever since the old hulk was launched ; because, 
 no other class would, for a moment, consent to pay as much 
 as those people who occupied the finest quarters, and then try to 
 live in such a cavernous bedlam as that narrow niche, directly 
 against the wet and roaring wheel. 
 
 John's mumps quickly grew to such immense proportions, 
 that he could scarcely pass through the narrow door of our room, 
 without turning his complaint edgewise ; and, when he made his 
 debut among the passengers in the cabin, there was a commotion 
 probably never equaled since the ' ' confusion of tongues ' ' at the 
 building of the Tower of Babel. I cannot describe the utter gro- 
 tesqueness of John's appearance ; the swelling, aside from making 
 his face, from right to left, an expansion of jowl terrible to look 
 upon, had extended all over his face, nearly closing his eyes, and 
 almost turning his stubby nose the ' ' other end up, ' ' beside draw- 
 ing his mouth until it seemed to extend almost from ear to ear. 
 Imagine, then, a very short neck, and you may be able to grasp 
 a faint idea of poor John's general appearance, when he wore 
 mumps "on both sides." 
 
 The boyish pride of the writer was being constantly wound- 
 ed, because John could not think of being separated from me for 
 scarcely a moment ; and when John and I would enter the cabin, 
 
50 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 we became the center of a universal attraction — though it was 
 only the eyes of all that were attracted ; the general anatomy of 
 the average passenger would fly from our approach as though 
 we carried a smallpox hospital in every pocket. Unfeeling per- 
 sons would laugh immoderately at John's appearance, and pass 
 all sorts of remarks, even going so far as to suggest that it would 
 be a mercy to drown him ; and they would also inquire of the 
 writer, in apparent sincerity, if I was engaged in collecting curi- 
 osities for Bamum — baboons, and the like. As often as weather 
 and circumstances would permit, I would bundle poor John up, 
 and get him on the upper deck, where, with the hot smokestack 
 on one side of him, and the blazing sun on the other, endeavor to 
 thaw out his mumps and reduce the swelling. I am not positive 
 as to whether my original remedy proved efficacious or not ; but 
 certain it was that he improved under my simple treatment rap- 
 idly, and by the time Cincinnati was reached I had gotten John's 
 face pretty well shrunk up again — though, the old skin pealing 
 off in great patches, his good-looks were only slightly improved, 
 if at all. I, in my own person, had never enjoyed (?) a run of 
 mumps, and although I expected to become a victim, I did not, 
 nor have I ever had them, before or since. But, ere we left the 
 boat at St. I,ouis, we had the supreme satisfaction of noticing 
 that the jaws of forty or fifty of our tormentors had begun to 
 swell beautifully. The sight of the pickles on the tables made 
 them fairly groan, and they heaped imprecations loud and deep 
 upon the head of the ' ' original baboon ' ' who was responsible for 
 the pains they were just beginning to enjoy. 
 
 The boat remained at Cincinnati all day, and John and I con- 
 cluded to look the town over a little, and so started out. After 
 walking up and down several of the principal streets — the writer, 
 meantime, keeping in sight some general landmarks, that we 
 might not lose our bearings — we took a notion to treat ourselves 
 to a card of gingerbread, some peanuts and an orange — the latter, 
 neither one of us had ever tasted. But the smallest money we 
 had, being a ten-dollar note, we determined to drop into the first 
 bank we came to and have it exchanged for small bills. In a few 
 minutes we came to a bank, and whilst John stood, leaning up 
 against the door-case, curiously gazing about the elegant apart- 
 ment — John had never seen a bank before, save a sand-bank or a 
 
ODD HOURS. 51 
 
 coal-bank — the writer endeavored to put on an extreme business 
 air, approached the cashier's counter, threw down my ten-dollar 
 note, and asked that I be given small bills for it. The cashier 
 took up the note, glanced his eye over it, held it up to the light, 
 and then laid it down on the counter. He gave me a look that 
 nearly froze my blood; then he looked at John, and that seemed 
 to settle it — whatever it was. He took down a little whistle from 
 behind his desk, sprang over the counter to the door, and blew it 
 vigorously, as he remarked, *'I guess this will prove a clew to some 
 of the trouble;" and in less than a minute, in rushed two men 
 dressed in blue uniforms, with clubs in their belts, and had both 
 of us by the coat-collars in a jiffy. 
 
 "Now, officers," said the banker, "take these two young 
 rascals to the lock-up, and as the court is now open, and I have 
 the proof of their character here in my hand, I will be up in half 
 an hour and have them examined before dinner." 
 
 So saying, the officers tightened their strong grip and literally 
 "snatched" us out to the sidewalk, and started up the street 
 with two as sorry-looking representatives from Bungtown as were 
 ever seen in any city. The whole proceeding was so short and 
 positive, and burst upon us so suddenly, that our tongues were 
 tied by the apparent horror of our situation, and for a time both 
 of us were utterly speechless. At last John, who was ahead, ex- 
 ploded ; and, amid a flood of tears, he made out to screw his head 
 around far enough to catch a glimpse of my own staring eyes and 
 gaping mouth and remark : " Boo-hoo-00 ! — aw-aw ! Oh, baw- 
 haw-00-00 ! Oh, what's the — baw-hoo-wah ! — matter with us 
 now ? — wah-baw-hoo ! ' ' 
 
 About that time the officer gave him a twitch that not only 
 cut short any further communication, but lifted his heels up al- 
 most as high as his mumps were recently located. Taking John's 
 rear elevation, as he was marched along up the street, as a start- 
 ing point from which to judge character, and he really did look 
 like a very " hard ticket." The officer had a whole big handful 
 of his thin and somewhat slouchy checked coat gathered up into 
 a handhold, together with his shirt and "galluses," and when 
 he yanked John around to stop his blubbering, it seemed to draw 
 his coat-tail and shirt up toward his collar, and the strain upon 
 his yarn suspenders drew his pant-legs clear above his boots. 
 
52 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 As for myself, I was no less frightened than my agonized 
 companion ; but had I been on my way to the gallows I could 
 not have suppressed an inward laugh, at the utterly forlorn sight 
 John presented as he passed along on his way to the police sta- 
 tion. 
 
 Reaching the jail, the officers placed us in a small room, 
 that seemed to be the wood-cellar of the establishment, and after 
 searching us for "tools" or weapons, they went out, locking the 
 door after them. I never can forget the hour we spent in that 
 dark, musty room, consulting upon the situation. The writer be- 
 lieved the cause of our trouble was that the bill I gave to the 
 banker was a counterfeit, and that we had been arrested as coun- 
 terfeiters, or something of the kind — a likely -looking "duet" to 
 be taken for professional counterfeiters, surely ! But John was 
 sure that this could not be the cause of such a terrible state of 
 affairs ; and, as the tears coursed down over his still somewhat 
 puffy cheeks, and he, anon, wiped off the surplus brine with his 
 sleeve, he " felt dead certain" that we were going to be hung or 
 banished, or sent to the state prison for life, and be starved to 
 death on bread and water. While I was also in a delightful state 
 of perplexity as to the fate that awaited us, yet I tried to cheer 
 John up as much as I could. To add to our misery, we feared 
 that we would not be given an opportunity to establish our inno- 
 cence until the boat would go off and leave us, which would prove 
 a ruin next to being executed or sent to the penitentiary. 
 
 At the end of an hour, or less, one of the officers came in and 
 told us to follow him. Our limbs grew so weak with excitement 
 and fear, that it was with difficulty we could ascend the stairs 
 that led to the department of justice. John's knees fairly smote 
 each other as we came in before the justice, where were assem- 
 bled a motley group, only differing in the various kinds of ' ' tough - 
 nuts" that seemed to fill the place. The banker was inside the 
 bar, and a group of legal men were engaged in writing out docu- 
 ments. John and I were given seats inside the railing, and the 
 judge asked the banker what charges he had to present against 
 the two prisoners. At the word " prisoners," John looked up at 
 his illustrious partner in crime — the boss traveler — and such a 
 a look ! It was a mump grimace of despair which no brush could 
 have transferred to canvas, or mortal words express. As for my- 
 
ODD HOURS, 53 
 
 self, I felt that no drop of blood coursed its way in my veins, 
 although as the crisis came, I felt the calm of desperation coming 
 over me, for I knew that if ever we were to get out of that trou- 
 ble, / should certainly have to accomplish it, as I could plainly 
 see that John was in a complete state of collapse. 
 
 The banker arose, holding the fatal bank-note in his hand, 
 and informed the judge of the circumstances by which it came 
 into his possession. He said it was an "altered," or "raised" 
 bill, which meant that it had been, originally, a <?W(?-dollar bill. 
 That there was a gang of men, somewhere, who were flooding the 
 country with this altered or raised money, and that the bankers 
 and business men of Cincinnati had been severely swindled by this 
 money, some of which was most cleverly executed. He added 
 that the bankers had determined to ferret out this band of swind- 
 lers, if possible, and bring them to justice ; that he felt convinced 
 that these two young sprigs might be made to divulge something 
 that would further the ends of justice in this matter ; at any rate 
 he considered the manner and circumstances of the tender of this 
 money at his bank sufficiently suspicious to warrant him in caus- 
 ing their arrest — pointing to John and myself — for they were just 
 such verdant-appearing, uncouth chaps as those who would be 
 used as " feelers" for the main gang. 
 
 After he concluded his remarks, the judge, turning to the 
 writer, said : "Well, young man, what have you to offer in de- 
 fense of your act in presenting such money as this at the bank ?' ' 
 
 I staggered to my feet, holding to the railing, lest my knee- 
 joints should fail entirely — for a court of justice was certainly new 
 to me in its surroundings and affairs, and had it not been a most 
 desperate case I should never have been able to offer any defense 
 at all. But, being conscious of my own innocence, when I arose 
 to speak, a feeling of indignation came to my assistance, and I 
 began at the first of our trip and related a straightforward history 
 of who we were, where we were going, where we received the 
 money, and all about it — even to the misfortune of my friend 
 John in being taken down with the mumps, which fact I offered 
 in extenuation of his present not overly honest or sophisticated 
 looking countenance, there being still an undue proportion of face 
 in his aggregate make-up. The money, we had received from a 
 
54 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 country schoolmaster, before leaving home. After hearing our 
 story, the judge turned to an ofl&cer and said : 
 
 "Take this bank-note, officer, and accompany these two lads 
 to the boat, at the levee, upon which they claim to be passengers, 
 and if you find their statement to be true in that particular, and 
 there are no new suspicions forced upon your mind, return the 
 bill to them and permit them to go on their way rejoicing." 
 
 At this, we both followed the ofiicer, our hearts several tons 
 lighter than when we entered the building, and soon arrived at 
 the boat, where preparations were being made to continue the 
 journey. The oflScer went with us to the head-clerk of the boat, 
 who certified to our character as passengers — particularly identi- 
 fying John as being a well-known, if not an especially popular, 
 passenger on the boat — when the ofiicer gave us our ' ' raised ' ' 
 exchequer and returned on shore. The bell gave out its hoarse 
 tap to let go, the great lines were hauled in, also the slack of the 
 monster iron cables that held the two great barges lashed to the 
 steamer on either side, and all was afloat once more. In a consul- 
 tation on the upper deck, shortly after, John and I voted unani- 
 mously in favor of a proposition to the effect that we had learned 
 several entirely new things that day, and that we had seen all of 
 Cincinnati that we cared to see — at least until some time when we 
 didn't have so much spurious currency about us as we seemed to 
 have that day. 
 
 No troubles overtook us, worthy of mention, before reaching 
 St. Louis, after the slice of education we had enjoyed at Cincin- 
 nati. An incident, however, occurred not far from Cairo, which, 
 while it lasted, was decidedly soul-harrowing. It was somewhere 
 near the middle of the night, and about all of the several hundred 
 passengers on board were soundly sleeping. The rooms were all 
 full, of course, and in addition, the cabin floor, from one end to 
 the other, was covered with cots, or "shake-downs," to accom- 
 modate the passengers who were not fortunate enough to secure 
 staterooms. During the night, if one found it necessary to pass 
 through the cabin, great caution had to be used in making way 
 among the floor slumberers. 
 
 Suddenly, as if the boat and her great barges had crashed 
 into a perpendicular ledge of rocks, came a grinding and smash- 
 ing ; a snapping of timbers ; a rolling and pitching ; and in less 
 
ODD HOURS. 55 
 
 time than it takes to relate it, the terrified passengers came scream- 
 ing and tumbling out of their rooms, i?i dishabille — men, women, 
 and children. Many from the upper bunks came, like leaping 
 frogs, through the transoms, landing among the utter mob in the 
 cabin, heels-over-head ; while more than one muscular two-hun- 
 dred-pounder never stopped to unlock his door, but came crashing 
 through the thin bulkheads, door and all, carrying all before 
 them, and adding kindling-wood to the awful tumult ; the great 
 boat rolled, and groaned from stem to stem ; the shrieks of the 
 women and children, the roar of hoarse curses by the men, and 
 the crashing of the crockery which was dashed from the shelves 
 and holdings in the pantries, made a scene the like of which is 
 beyond the power of tongue or pen to describe. The writer had 
 the good fortune to become so stupefied by terror, that I simpl}' 
 gained the transom and had crawled about half way through, 
 when I could only hang over the cross-piece above the door and 
 look down upon the awful panorama of ' ' reason gone mad." One- 
 third of the mass of human beings seemed to be under foot, and 
 one excessively fat old Hebrew citizen a little astern of where I 
 was hung up, attracted my attention particularly, despite the gen- 
 eral reign of terror. Of course, the whole ludicrous proposition 
 was imprinted upon my mind and understanding in a twinkling. 
 The poor old fat man could not have risen from his floor-couch 
 under two or three minutes, ordinarily ; as it was, he would no 
 more than get rolled over on his ponderous stomach, or at most 
 get to his hands and knees in the process of rising, when fifty of 
 the crowd that constantly surged back and forth would walk all 
 over him — fore-an'-aft and crosswise — crushing the long-nosed 
 old German-Hebrew back to the floor again, and cause him to 
 squall like a fog-horn, in half a dozen different languages every 
 time they would bowl him over, first one way and then the other, 
 and walk on his stomach for good measure. At last the captain 
 and clerk gained an elevated position at the forward end of the 
 cabin, and the former being a very large man, with a voice like 
 seven-thunders, after a time succeeded in attracting the attention 
 of the mob, and with more power than elegance of language, said 
 the danger had passed and that the boat was all safe ; that if they 
 didn't stop their infernal noise and settle down, he would begin 
 shooting in among the fool leaders of the bedlam of confusion. 
 
56 UNCLE DLDLEY'S 
 
 After a few minutes thus spent, in well-directed assurances and 
 threats, the people were finally sufficiently pacified to permit the 
 captain to explain the cause of the disaster and its extent. He 
 said the larboard barge had struck a rock, and had been torn into 
 a thousand pieces — by reason of the hundred tons of railroad rails 
 with which she was loaded — and that the barge and its cargo had 
 gone to the bottom ; that although the barge was, of necessity, 
 attached to the steamer by immense hawsers and cable-chains, 
 yet the boat had withstood the shock with but little damage he 
 thought, as the hawsers and chains had either parted under the 
 strain or been torn from their fastenings, and had not injured the 
 hull of the steamer materially ; that the steamer had been saved 
 from capsising or being thrown athwart the ledge of rocks by the 
 iron-laden barge on her starboard side, which had held her steady 
 and comparatively straight with the current. He added that the 
 carpenter and a crew of helpers were already in the hold, fully 
 equipped to repair any leaks or damages until a suitable landing 
 could be reached ; that he demanded of them to settle down and 
 to cease making a pack of idiots of themselves ; enough people 
 had already been hurt, and enough damage been done, as they 
 could see by looking up and down the wrecked cabin where many 
 badly injured people were to be seen. 
 
 After this explanation, the mob cooled down, and began to 
 see themselves as others saw them — and they commenced a grand 
 scramble for their clothing, while many of the more humane and 
 considerate turned their attention to those who had been injured 
 in the terrible scene just enacted. 
 
 As good fortune willed, there were none killed, though sev- 
 eral had limbs fractured and many were severely cut and bruised; 
 one little boy had a large part of his ear torn off by being thrown 
 against a broken door-knob, as was supposed, while the fat old 
 Hebrew's stomach had been almost fatally disturbed. Poor John, 
 it seemed, had gained the cabin and joined in with the general 
 melee, and when I next discovered him he was sitting on the floor 
 in one of the pantries, half buried in a mass of broken crockery, 
 his head and face more or less cut up, and although he had not 
 received any serious injury, he was about paralyzed by the fright 
 of it all, and when he, sort of dazedly recognized me, he wanted 
 to know "where he was at," and mumbled something about his 
 
ODD HOURS. 57 
 
 mammy and pap, and seemed to be trying to express a desire to 
 go back home at the first possible opportunity, I got him to his 
 room and bathed his cuts and bruises, told him the danger was 
 all over, and he at last became normally conditioned once more. 
 
 The boat was found, upon examination, to have been consid- 
 erably damaged ; although, aside from several leaks being sprung, 
 which were quickly repaired temporarily, the worst injuries were 
 above the water-line, along on her lower deck and guards, where 
 the great cable-chains and hawsers had been torn from their fast- 
 enings, carrying . everything with them that lay in their path. 
 The loss of such a valuable cargo of iron, and the total destruc- 
 tion of so large and fine a barge, must have been a grievous one 
 to the Pittsburgh owners, as little was known in those days about 
 marine insurance. 
 
 We finally, and without further mishap, reached St, lyouis, 
 where the great load of passengers, who had become pretty well 
 acquainted with one another, separated. The greater portion of 
 them sought Missouri river steamers, while others — John and my- 
 self among the rest — took passage upon boats for the upper Mis- 
 sissippi. The farthest point up the river to which tickets could 
 be purchased at St. I<ouis, was to Muscatine, on the Iowa side of 
 the river ; and to that point we bought and paid for our tickets, 
 leaving some twenty -five dollars of a cash capital remaining in 
 the several pockets of John and myself, combined, beside our old 
 "raised" bill. 
 
 The boat was to still remain ten or twelve hours after we had 
 engaged passage, and so, not being wholly intimidated by our ex- 
 perience in Cincinnati, we determined to look about the great city 
 — ^just a little. It was not long before we came to where there 
 was a little "show," which the man outside declared in a very 
 loud voice, was " the greatest panorama of the nineteenth century 
 — or any other century, whatsomever f ' ' Neither John nor myself 
 was very clear as to what a "panorama " might be, but we deter- 
 mined, after a little counsel together, that if the greatest thing of 
 the nineteenth century could be witnessed for fifteen cents apiece, 
 the very best thing we could do was to make the investment. We 
 entered a small room, and were directed to shut one eye, and put 
 the eye that wasn't shut, up to a little row of peep-holes, one 
 after another, as the "audience," composed largely of "slum- 
 
58 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 scum," closely packed in a single line, pushed along from one 
 peep-hole to the next, and so on, until the round had been made. 
 When the beholder had reached the end, he was supposed to take 
 himself out into the open air again, and divide his time, as long 
 as he chose, alternately, reflecting upon the grandeur of the recent 
 panorama, and the loss of his fifteen cents. When John and I 
 "peeped," we found that the little glass through which we gazed 
 with our best eye, slightly magnified the five-cent colored pictures 
 that hung behind the screen. They consisted of Mexican war 
 battle-scenes, pictures-on-horseback of Generals Scott, Taylor 
 Worth, Ringold, Captain May (fresh heroes of that time), Dan- 
 iel Boone, and others who are now back -numbers, but just such 
 pictures as those could have then been seen in almost any back- 
 woods home. Still, John 'lowed that "they looked a heap purtier 
 through them little glasses," and seemed satisfied with his invest- 
 ment. There was a badly mixed crowd (and they crowded) about 
 the place, and after we had been permitted to obtain about half a 
 glimpse of most of the pictures composing the the ' ' greatest pan- 
 orama of the nineteenth, or any other, century, we leisurely pur- 
 sued our way toward the steamboat landing again. 
 
 Just before we reached the wharf, however, John stopped 
 suddenly, and grabbed his vest-pocket with both his hands, and 
 gave vent to a gasp and groan that almost made my hair raise. 
 He staggered up to the fence and leaned heavily against an un- 
 latched gate — the yard inside being two feet lower than the side- 
 walk — and fell head-over-heels down into the yard, "John ! " I 
 fairly gasped, in my terror at his unaccountable conduct, "what 
 in heaven's name, is the matter with you this time? I say, John, 
 what has come over you so quick, anyway? Speak, John, are 
 yon very s\c\iV' But he only groaned, and became more than 
 ordinarily speechless, and I thought he was either dying, or that 
 his mumps had " relapsed" on him, and I looked hurriedly both 
 ways along the street to see if I could see a doctor's sign. John 
 finally sat up, and gazed at me with a wild, vacant stare, I felt 
 almost sure he was going to propound the same question he did 
 when I found him among the smashed crockery on the steamboat 
 and ask me "Where he was at?" — for he surely got an awful 
 bump when he fell all of a heap down into the yard. A hundred 
 thoughts flew athwart my mind, a chief one being, " How could 
 
ODD HOURS. 59 
 
 I have been such a dolt as to accept in trust such an uncouth and 
 unfortunate specimen of the genus homo, even from the loving 
 hands of a doting mamma ? " At last, with a great sob, he cried 
 out, " My watch ! — oh, my pappy' s nice watch has gone ! " That 
 explained the seat of poor John's disease. His pocket had been 
 picked in ' ' The greatest panorama of the nineteenth century — or 
 any other century — and at that moment some heartless thief had 
 poor John's fifteen-cent "bull's-eye," that had constituted the 
 munificent gift from John's father to his adventurous son. To 
 be sure, the old rattle-box was worn thin by time, the case was 
 dented up like a teething-spoon, and when it went at all, it would 
 knock off an hour every fifteen minutes, on an average. I told 
 him that, to my certain knowledge, his "pap's nice watch" was 
 not worth seventeen cents in "raised" currency, and that any 
 three of the copious tears he was shedding, were infinitely more 
 valuable. 
 
 After awhile I succeeded in comforting John sufficiently to 
 get him to his feet again, and shut the man's gate ; I assured him 
 that, as our mothers had taught us, it must be all for the best — 
 that if some one had not stolen his watch, he might have caught 
 the smallpox ; or, we might have gotten our legs into a hole in 
 the sidewalk and had them broken; or — or, there might have 
 been a great fire, or we might have been bitten by a mad dog ; or 
 the world might have come to an end, or some other awful thing 
 might have happened; and, all in all, it was no doubt "all for 
 the best," that the watch had been stolen, though he must not 
 expect me to prove it, just on the moment. 
 
 John's grief was at last partially assuaged, through his tears 
 and sobs, and after I had stood around him, on all sides, for over 
 a quarter of an hour in respectful silence, offering nothing more 
 that might mar the even flow of his comforting sorrow, I rallied 
 him, and submitted three or four chunks of indisputable philoso- 
 phy for his consideration ; i. e., that what was — was; that what 
 wasn't — wasn't ; and what isn't — isn't ; and that was what ailed 
 his pap's watch — it wasn't, so far as we knew, at that time. I 
 further asserted that we owed it to ourselves, and to our posterity, 
 to get back to the boat, for fear we might get left ; and so, John 
 said, "All right; but I'd like to kill the confounded thief that 
 has my watch, that my pap gimme, an' if I ever go into another 
 
6o UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 panner-rammer for fifteen cents, he hoped to be dod-rotted ! " He 
 did not forget his grief for many days, and several times when I 
 would awake in the night I would find him quietly weeping, I 
 presume because of the loss of his pap's watch, and also because 
 of the rich mine of sinfulness he had struck, so early in his career 
 as a traveler. But poor John had additional griefs to encounter 
 in the near future, and additional lessons to learn from the hard 
 book of experience. Nor was I to wholly escape. The main 
 differences between John and myself were, that I had a better 
 presence than he (which wasn't saying much in my favor, even 
 then), I was much younger, not so nearly tongue-tied, and had 
 seen and observ^ed more, and also suffered more. Yet, many an 
 object-lesson in life's travels was still new to me. I also possessed 
 more philosophy and hope in my make-up than he. 
 
 Our trip to the rapids, near Keokuk, was quite uneventful, 
 and while the writer enjoyed the beautiful scenery along the great 
 river, my companion either remained in his room, or else he sat 
 on the shady side of the boat, his hat dravra down over his eyes, 
 staring into space and, to all outward appearances, thinking very 
 deeply about nothing. But, I excused John's evident melan- 
 choly, under the circumstances, for even at best, it was only "once 
 in a blue moon ' ' that he undertook the perpetration of a whole 
 sentence, and never did so unless in the highest of spirits, or in 
 some trying emergency. I have often thought since, that it was 
 my long journey with John that so improved my own powers of 
 speech ; for, upon that occasion, I was forced to do all the talking 
 for two, and all the more, owing to the perpetual chain of circum- 
 stances that demanded of me an extraordinary amount of loquac- 
 ity. 
 
 At the rapids, the boat transferred her passengers around the 
 great natural barrier to navigation that existed, and at Montrose 
 — at the head of the rapids — we again embarked on a smaller boat 
 belonging to the same line, to continue our journey to Muscatine, 
 to which point our passage was paid, and at which place we ex- 
 pected to have money enough left to buy our tickets to St. Paul. 
 ■ During the half day we stopped at the miserable little town 
 of Montrose, awaiting the transfer of baggage and freight, John 
 and I met with another mishap that completely unbalanced us. 
 As we were putting in our time by wandering along the beach 
 
ODD HOURS. 61 
 
 not far from the boat, picking up pretty little stones, and the 
 spiral-formed river snails, and really enjoying ourselves more than 
 at any time since beginning our journey, a very finely dressed, 
 and delightfully pleasing young man came up to us, and he ap- 
 peared also to interest himself very much in picking up the little 
 gems occasionally found along the waterside. He casually made 
 inquiry, asking if we were passengers on the boat soon to depart 
 — the " Ben Campbell" — to which we replied affirmatively. He 
 said that he, too, was going up on that boat, and asked how far 
 up the river we were going, and we told him to St. Paul. He was 
 delighted ; he also was going to St. Paul, and was ever so much 
 overjoyed at the thought of having such pleasant companions for 
 the long trip. Of course we were, in turn, also very much grat- 
 ified at being made so much of by so elegant and accomplished a 
 young gentleman, and it was not long ere a thorough and mutual 
 admiration society was formed — so far as outward appearances 
 went, and so far as John and I were concerned, the admiration 
 was very sincere, indeed. After chatting and laughing, for a time, 
 as we wandered together up and down the beach , our newly-made 
 friend suddenly, and as if the recollection had just occurred to 
 him, turned to us and said : 
 
 "Oh, say, boys ! Have you seen that big turtle they have 
 up yonder, at that place where the big red sign is ? " 
 
 We assured him we had not. 
 
 " Well, well ! " said he. " If you haven't seen that turtle, 
 you'd just better go right up now, and see it." 
 
 By this time John's eyes — which were of the large, pop-eyed 
 variety — began to stick out with interest, as he ventured to ask 
 how big it was ; and said he had ' ' ketched ' ' one once in the mill- 
 dam near his pap's farm that was 'most as big as a pie-tin. 
 
 "Big as a pie-tin !" snorted our new-made friend, "why, 
 this one up at the red sign is a little over six feet across the back, 
 the short way, and has a head bigger than yours — you just ought 
 to go right up an' see him." 
 
 " Ge-whillaker-crout ! " exclaimed John, in return, his eyes 
 looking like a couple of Bermuda onions, " I'd like to see him ! " 
 
 "Well," said our friend, "If you'd like to go up, I'll go 
 along with you." 
 
 "All right," the writer remarked, "we'd be obliged to you," 
 
62 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 and off we started to see the wonderful beast-reptile, that was six 
 feet across the back, the short way ; for the truth was, the writer 
 was quite as much excited on the turtle question as was John. 
 
 Arriving at and entering the open door of what seemed to be 
 a big saloon, our friend asked the bar-keeper where the turtle 
 was ; he said its keeper had taken it out to water it, and would 
 be back with it in a few minutes ; just to make ourselves com- 
 fortable about the place in the meantime. 
 
 At this, our friend turned to us and said : " Well, boys, this 
 is a pleasant room, and we can just look about a little, until they 
 bring the turtle back. By the way," he continued, in a sort of 
 confidential undertone, ' ' see, they are playing cards over in the 
 other end of the room ; suppose we just carelessly work over that 
 way ; I'd like to see regular cards played once — I never saw reg- 
 ular cards played, in my life." Accordingly, we all sauntered 
 over that way, where a tall, gaunt-looking man, dressed in a blue- 
 jeans suit and white, ministerial choker, stood behind a table, en- 
 gaged in leisurely tossing three cards about on the table, and he 
 offered to bet that no one could turn up a certain one of the three 
 cards — all three he exhibited after he had given them a careless 
 toss, one over the other. Our new-made friend seemed much 
 interested in the simple-appearing little game, and asked him to 
 show him a certain one, and then see if he could not turn the same 
 one up when he laid them down. The man accommodated him a 
 couple of times, and sure enough, he turned the winning card 
 both times, which seemed to amaze the card-man not a little ; still, 
 John and I could also easily keep our eye on the right card as he 
 very slowly manipulated the three bits of pasteboard, and we felt 
 sure that the card-man must lose every bet he made. 
 
 Finally, the man offered to wager our friend a twenty-dollar 
 gold-piece that he could not turn up the right card a third time, 
 which bet was accepted, and won. By this time John, in partic- 
 ular, was thoroughly excited ; he knew he could turn up the right 
 one, a hundred times in succession ; and beside, our new-found 
 young gentleman friend urged John to try his luck — it was per- 
 fectly easy, as he had seen ; just keep his eye on the right card, 
 that was all. John began to step around like a hen on a warm 
 griddle, fairly wheezing with suppressed excitement, his hands 
 twitched nervousl}' in his pockets, while his eyes protruded as he 
 
ODD HOURS. 63 
 
 contemplated the certainty of doubling our joint exchequer at 
 one fell swoop. But, whiie our young friend had been betting 
 and winning so easily, and urging John to avail himself of the 
 wonderful opportunity to make a fine haul of cash, the writer was 
 slyly scanning the faces about the place, and had decided upon 
 several things as being very probable : that we had gotten our- 
 selves into a very bad place, where neither our money nor our 
 lives were safe ; that the young man was a traitor ; that there 
 was no turtle there, and never was ; that while that game was 
 very easy for our pseudo friend, they might, in some way, fix 
 it different if John were to try it ; in short, I not only became 
 suspicious, but considerably "frightened. I nudged John, and 
 whispered to him : "Let us run out of here, quick ; they're fool- 
 ing us about the turtle, and I believe they are going to rob us," 
 and I started for the door. John followed me out, but declared 
 he could turn the right card, he knew ; he was quite in a rage at 
 me for my cowardice ; our young friend(?), who had followed us 
 out, insisted that it was all right — a dead sure thing' — and that if 
 we were in need of any more money, now was our time to get it, 
 and seemed so truly interested in our welfare, that finally, in re- 
 sponse to John's almost tearful pleading, I gave him all the money 
 I had, and told him if his heart was set on it, all right — I could 
 stand it if he could. He fairly snorted in disgust at my babyish 
 doubts of a thing that an}^ fool could see, with one eye, was a cer- 
 tainty, and no guess-work about it. By putting both of our piles 
 together, we mustered twenty-five dollars of good money, and our 
 ten-dollar *' raised" bill, and John shuffled back to the table and 
 spread out his money before the tall man in blue-jeans with the 
 clerical neckcloth, and told him there was all the money he had, 
 but that he would wager it against thirty dollars in gold, and the 
 man, rather hesitatingly, accepted the challenge. To make a still 
 more certain thing in John's favor, he allowed him to take the 
 winning card — the seven-spot of spades — and turn up one corner 
 of it, so that he could follow it more easily with his eye, as the 
 tall gentleman tossed them one over the other on the table. He 
 took the three cards, gave them a slow pass or two, and there, in 
 plain sight, lay the winning card with the corner turned, and 
 John could not resist smiling, though intensely excited at his good 
 luck, in advance of turning up the proof of his victory — it was 
 
64 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 such a simple little child's game, withal, that even such a pump- 
 kin-roller as John could not resist a smile. He reached over and 
 turned up the card — the same(?) one the comer of which he had 
 bent back (the seven of spades) , but when he turned it over there 
 had apparently been a magical change ; it was the jack of ^earts ! 
 The gambler raked our "earthly all" into his pocket, and ironi- 
 cally asked poor John if he had any more change he wanted to 
 lay up against the little game. 
 
 John turned to look at our friend, who had enticed us hither, 
 but alas ! he was gone ; he looked after his money, but it was also 
 gone ; the turtle was gone, and I told John it was about time we 
 were gone ; he staggered along after me out into the open air, 
 while the cold perspiration stood out on his forehead like great 
 beads, as we hastened toward the boat — ^neither of us saying a 
 word, but poor John looking the personification of human de- 
 spair. The writer also felt, indeed, as though ruin haunted our 
 pathway, and I felt, too, as though I was much to blame for not 
 holding out more tenaciously against John's set determination to 
 increase our capital in such a disreputable manner. The admo- 
 nition of the gambler, mentioned in my first trip west, now came 
 to my mind, and I resolved then and there never again to forget 
 that kindly advice. I felt that our punishment was just, no mat- 
 ter how severe it might prove ; and, verily, the prospect now was 
 that the punishment would prove adequate. I could not find it 
 in my heart to heap any coals upon the head of my companion, as 
 he was already suffering all the remorse he could bear, and still be 
 able to walk, at all. We finally reached the boat, gained the hur- 
 ricane deck and sat down on the shady side of the little ' ' texas ' ' 
 in silence, and gazed blankly up-town, with our eyes glued to 
 that fatal red sign that had allured us to the lair of that turtle 
 which was "six feet across the back, the short way ; " and I re- 
 solved, for myself, that I would not get off that boat again before 
 reaching Muscatine, unless kicked off by the toe of a higher au- 
 thority. 
 
 John was silent as the tomb during the remainder of the day 
 and evening, and I was sufficiently amused by occasionally taking 
 a look at his woe-begone countenance — grief seemed hopelessly 
 engraven upon every feature — he suffered, and he deserved to suf- 
 fer. He sat, humped over, with both hands deep down in his now 
 
ODD HOURS. 65 
 
 thoroughly empty pockets, and I feared at times that he would 
 seek relief in the pretty-flowing river, partly to drown his remorse 
 and partly to make sure his escape from the snares of a traveler's 
 life that might still be in store for him. But John finally weath- 
 ered it through, and the next morning I could not resist the temp- 
 tation of asking him if he thought he had made a good purchase 
 in the way of experience at Montrose. He finally, after several 
 spasmodic efforts, made out to say, in effect, that he had got ex- 
 perience enough about cards and turtles, to last him for a very 
 great while, but he didn't know what was to become of us after 
 reaching Muscatine, This broke the ice, and so we sat down in a 
 retired comer, and began to discuss seriously, the prospects — or- 
 ganizing ourselves into a committee on "ways and means." It 
 seemed to the "committee" that there were ways in abundance, 
 but what did the ways amount to, with no means to put any of 
 them into execution ? 
 
 At last we arrived at the end of the paid portion of our river 
 journey, with no plan of action fully decided upon. We went 
 ashore promptly, however, and with our gripsacks wandered up 
 into the town, rather hoping, and yet half-fearing, that something 
 might turn up. But nothing turned up for our benefit during 
 the two hours of our sitting and standing around the comers ; at 
 last we concluded that, as we were a pair of thoroughbred coun- 
 try-jakes, anyway, and did not know the first principles necessary 
 to striking a job in the town, we had better strike for the country 
 and see if we could not get something to do, whereby, in time, 
 our shattered fortunes might be mended to a sufficient extent to 
 enable us to pursue our journey. 
 
 Accordingly, just as evening was beginning to throw somber 
 shadows athwart the valleys, and the sun was bestowing his 
 good-night kiss upon the verdure-wreathed brows of the towering 
 bluffs over on the Illinois side of the great river, John and I leis- 
 urely ascended the western hills in rear of the town, with heavy 
 hearts, heavy gripsacks and light stomachs — the two original 
 "tramps," the first two knights of the haystack, to press the 
 virgin soil of the then young state of Iowa. 
 
 As we plodded along, more engaged in thought than in con- 
 versation, we gradually emerged into an open country, where 
 nothing broke the monotony of the scene, the great undulating 
 
66 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 prairie seeming to fade away into the leaden-colored horizon. To- 
 ward dark the new-country homes of the pioneer farmers grew 
 further and further apart, until we found ourselves far out on a 
 plain with no habitations in sight. Hoping we should not have 
 to travel many miles before this treeless waste would be crossed 
 and a settlement reached, we trudged onward until the night be- 
 came so dark that we could follow the dim road no longer, and 
 still no * ' light in the window ' ' threw its friendly rays toward us 
 from any direction. At last we were compelled to abandon the 
 idea of reaching a settlement that night, and lest we should miss 
 the road and become hopelessly lost, I suggested to John that we 
 "go into camp" until morning, disagreeable though it might be. 
 
 It must have been nine o'clock — though we could only guess 
 at the time, since John lost "his pap's watch," but it is likely 
 we were able to arrive at a more correct guess without it than 
 with it — when we gave up the tramp for the night. The weather 
 was not cold, though it began to cloud up and threaten rain. We 
 had just come up to higher ground from a low, marshy tract of 
 the landscape, and I told John that here was our spot to camp. 
 From my former experiences in a still wilder country, hundreds 
 of miles farther to the far northwest, I pretty well knew of what 
 some of the exercises of the night would consist, and so, after 
 depositing our grip-sacks together close to the track, I ordered 
 that we both now feel our way back to where the tall cane-grass, 
 of the last year's growth, stood thickly on the ground. Here, 
 with our pocket-knives, we cut a large armful each, and also a 
 small bunch of tough wire-grass, and with our loads returned to 
 the higher ground where our carpet-bags had been left. John 
 ventured to inquire a couple of times what I intended doing with 
 the cane-grass, but I only answered that he might possibly find 
 out before morning. 
 
 After reaching our "camp," I had John divide the dry 
 cane into small bundles, or wisps, while I took a few straws of the 
 wire-grass for bands and bound about them at intervals, making 
 about twenty of the cane fagots. Then taking a match, of which 
 we fortunately had plenty, I lighted one to test its burning qual- 
 ities, and found it to be dry as tinder, burning brightly, and throw- 
 ing its brilliant light far about through the increasing blackness 
 of the cloudy night. 
 
ODD HOURS. 67 
 
 I now told John that all there was left for us to do was to 
 curl down on the grass, using our ' ' grips " for a pillow, and make 
 ourselves as comfortable as circumstances — present and prospec- 
 tive — would admit. That on the morrow we should doubtless 
 span this treeless waste, and reach civilization again and probably 
 find employment and something to eat. 
 
 As for myself, the prospect before us was not particularly 
 discouraging, because, on my first trip to the West — as will be 
 remembered by the reader — I had suffered hardships, alone, the 
 equal of which did not, probably, lay in store for John and I in 
 the present emergency. But John, to whom all such trials were 
 entirely new, seemed very much cast down ; probably the more 
 so, as he felt that he had been the means of bringing us to our 
 present condition of penury, and general state of grief. But, as 
 John's thermometer of courage fell toward zero, my own went up 
 proportionately, which was fortunate enough ; and when he ven- 
 tured to blame himself for being the instrument of all the misfor- 
 tunes that he was sure lay in store for us, I would rally him, and 
 fairly scream a jubilee of some sort to drown his melancholy and 
 revive his drooping spirits. 
 
 Upon telling John that we had better retire to rest upon the 
 velvety green of that vast domain, he made a few remarks to the 
 effect that he had never before been compelled to sleep on the cold 
 ground, and he wouldn't have his mother know he was so exposed 
 to the danger of " taking his death of cold," for a fortune ; she 
 would weep her eyes out. I assured John that "taking cold" 
 was the least concern I felt, and as for his mother knowing about 
 the fun we were having, she simply didn't, and that was the best 
 of it. "Yes," replied John, "a little more such fun as we've 
 been havin' will just kill a mule — confound the ' goin' west,' any- 
 how." We told him that what he had seen and experienced was 
 only called " fun " in this border land, and that there was noth- 
 ing under the blue sky that could kill, or even injure, two such 
 perfectly accomplished potato-threshers as we were, anyway. 
 
 So we talked on, as we lay prone upon the earth resting our 
 weary limbs, and at last John asked me something more, relative 
 to the use I proposed putting the cane fagots to, and also said 
 something about being " all -fired hungry," as he dozed off into a 
 sort of semi-conscious sleep. Thus matters stood — or rather lay 
 
68 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 — with us, when suddenly there came up from the low cane-flats 
 a long, mournful howl, ending with a "yap-yap ! " John sprang 
 up with a sudden twitch, to a sitting posture, and, in a startled 
 undertone exclaimed : 
 
 "Oh, good Lordy, what's that ! " — John had heard his first 
 wolf. 
 
 I could fairly hear the poor boy's heart thump, in the dead 
 silence that followed, and at last I told him that it was a wolf ; 
 and a wolf that was probably about as hungry for a square meal 
 as ourselves. 
 
 ' ' A wolf ! Oh, creemany Lordy ! Did you say it was a wol/f 
 — oh, isn't it something else?" 
 
 " No, John," I answered, " it is really a wolf ; and before we 
 hear the last of him, we'll hear more of him, and of them, too." 
 
 "Oh, jewhilaker lyordy ! is there wolves in this here coun- 
 try?" 
 
 "Yes, John ; on these solitary flats, among the rank growth 
 of prodigious cane-grass, and also in the recesses of the rocks in 
 the river bluffs, they flourish in large numbers — both the prairie- 
 wolf (coyote) and the large, savage gray-wolf — and they often 
 make night hideous with their mad bowlings ; they feed upon 
 mice, frogs, jack-rabbits, their own aged kind, and an occasional 
 lone traveler across these solitary plains, and — 
 
 " Oh, let us go somewhere ! Oh, I'll never go west again — 
 we haven't no gun, no trees to climb — oh, what' 11 become of us ! 
 I never seed a wolf, nor never didn't hear no wolf afore, an' don't 
 want to hear one nor see one, either; what' 11 become of us now 
 — oh, if mother only know'd how it is with me now, she'd die-i-i, 
 boo-hoo-aw-aw ! ' ' 
 
 After begging him to cork up his blubber-bottle, to try and 
 use a little grammar, if he had any, and assuring him again that 
 his mother knew absolutely nothing about it, I told him that all 
 we could do, was to "put our trust in the I^ord and keep our 
 powder dry," — or our cane-fagots, which amounted to the same 
 thing as powder, in our case. 
 
 "Well, I al'ays did trust in the Lord, and al'ays was purty 
 good, too, 'ceptin' that dod-rotted card-playin' , but what'll we do 
 jist now — are they much dangerous?" — and poor John's teeth 
 rattled ; but, he may have been chilly. 
 
ODD HOURS. 69 
 
 I told him they were dangerous at times — when hungry, or 
 in large packs. Soon, another howl came up from the lowlands 
 not far distant. 
 
 " Oh dear, there's another one /" exclaimed John, in agony. 
 Oh, if mother and pap know'd we was going to be eat up by the 
 wolves — wah, wah ! boo-00-00 !" 
 
 John was now on his feet, prancing and dancing about like a 
 chicken with the pip, as he peered out into the surrounding dark- 
 ness ; the howls became more frequent, and from various quar- 
 ters, showing that the creatures had scented what they considered 
 would make a fine midnight luncheon. In less than an hour from 
 the time the first wolf was heard, there were at least a dozen in 
 the pack, venturing quite uncomfortably close to the two original 
 Iowa tramps. John had become almost frantic with terror, and 
 he had not only repeated all the lamentations of woe he could 
 think of, but had been mindful of his devotional duties, hoping 
 against hope that he might be delivered from the snarling, snap- 
 ping, howling horde that beset us. The writer would have been 
 in full sympathy with John in his trepidation, had it not been for 
 three reasons : I had heard wolves before ; these, I felt sure, 
 were all prairie-wolves, with more noise than bravery, and even if 
 they dared assail us, our dry torches would drive them away. 
 After they had grown quite bold, and presumed to approach 
 within a few rods of us, I gave John a bundle of the dry cane, 
 and taking another myself, I told him, the moment I lighted them 
 to run with me directly toward them — and yell ! John trembled 
 out, "Oh, Lordy ! " at the idea of running toward them, but in 
 an instant the torches were aflame and, with an unearthly screech 
 we sprang toward them with an avenging flambeau of fire. Ere 
 they could realize the situation, we were fairly among them, 
 brandishing our fiery weapons as if determined to ignite every one 
 of their bushy tails. They turned and, with despairing howls, 
 fled for their lives toward the cane-cover from which they had 
 come. Quickly running back, we lighted others, and again with 
 frantic yells and swaying torches, we pursued them to the very 
 lowlands, and they scampered in all directions through the cane- 
 grass, snarling their chagrin at the defeat of their project relating 
 to a general midnight banquet on raw tramp. Then, ere our 
 torches in hand were quite consumed, we returned again to our 
 
70 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 camp, with a general shout of victory, and a "Thank the good 
 lyordy ! " from John. 
 
 The remainder of the night was spent in the general retailing 
 of wolf stories we had read in our boyhood books, and kindred 
 topics, and in speculating on the prospects of the coming day. At 
 the earliest gray of dawn, we were again on the road, very weary 
 from the effects of the excitement, and lack of sleep, of the night 
 just past. 
 
 At about mid-day we reached a settlement, and were treated 
 to a plain but substantial meal at the home of a pioneer, but found 
 no likely place at which to apply for work until nearly sundown, 
 when we came to the home of an extensive and well-to-do farmer 
 where we called. The wife, in answer to our inquiries for em- 
 ployment, said her husband was out in a distant field, but would 
 be in before long, and it was possible he might give us something 
 to do ; in the meantime, the kind woman asked us to partake of 
 a big bowl of bread and milk, which we gladly did. We were 
 about finishing our repast as the farmer entered, and his wife 
 made known the object of our call, when he flew into a terrible 
 rage, and threatened that unless we got off his place, instanter, 
 he would blow our respective heads ofE with his shotgun. He of- 
 fered no explanation of his conduct, and indeed we asked for no 
 explanation ; we went, and did not stand on the order of our 
 going, either. But, as we passed out at the gate, I could not re- 
 sist doflSug my hat and bowing most respectfully to the terrified 
 wife who stood looking after us from the doorway. This scare 
 was about equal to a wolf -fright, as we both decided, after get- 
 ting well out of danger. I have often wondered since, what the 
 after-life of that kindly, refined-looking woman may have been 
 with such a brute-fool as that man. 
 
 That night we stayed with an extremely poor family living 
 a short distance from the main road. They bade us welcome to 
 their very humble home, and gave us liberally of the little they 
 had to eat — though, when we made out how stinted they were in 
 every way, we fain would have tasted nothing, had they permit- 
 ted us to fast. The man of the house — much above middle-age, 
 tall, gaunt, quite stooped, with thin visage, long thin hair and a 
 sharp, keen eye — had come to that country only a year before 
 from the state of Missouri — reaching the "state of misery ,'' as I 
 
ODD HOURS. 71 
 
 thought upon looking about. He had rented this piece of land, 
 but as he had barely the next to no team at all, and no cows or 
 other stock, he had made extremely poor headway at support- 
 ing his family of wife and six or eight children — all girls. After 
 we had partaken of his com bread and weak tea, the poor man 
 entertained us till a late hour by relating to us the story of his 
 life, from a young man, which was certainly the most eventful 
 and thrilling narrative we had ever listened to, up to that date. 
 
 It consisted of epochs of misfortune and deepest poverty, one 
 only seeming to differ from another, as time rolled on, in its addi- 
 tional misery and distress. Yet, after all, he seemed to enjoy its 
 recital, and being a glib talker, and excellent descriptionist, his 
 story was deeply interesting. He said he didn't know how he 
 came to be as well off as he was ; and indeed it was surprising 
 that he or any member of his family were alive, at all, even allow- 
 ing only half to be true, though he told a frank, straightfoward 
 tale, and was apparently honest in all he said. 
 
 Our weary limbs rested well on a pile of hay in the loft that 
 night, and in the morning, after eating very sparingly — for our 
 conscience would not permit of our doing full justice to the meal 
 — we bade adieu to our kind friends, wishing them better success 
 for the future, and once more struck the road in quest of work. 
 During the whole day, however, I could not banish the recollec- 
 tion of this poor but hospitable family from my mind, and the 
 recollection served to soften my mental murmurings against my 
 own hard lot — John remaining non-committal, as his fixed gaze 
 persistently rested on the dusty road, about six feet ahead of his 
 anatomy. 
 
 When night again overtook us — after a long and hard day's 
 travel — ^we had arrived at the beautiful little capital town of 
 Cedar county — Tipton. We had been unable to find any employ- 
 ment, and had not presumed to ask for anything to eat ; as a re- 
 sult, we were excessively worn and hungry. Coming to a mill, 
 in the edge of the town, we rested on the steps ; after a little time 
 the writer entered and asked the benevolent-looking old miller for 
 a pint of wheat, which he cheerfully poured into my hat. I re- 
 turned to John with my prize, and while we sat devouring our 
 singular repast, the old miller came to the door and gazed curi- 
 ously at us. Coming down and taking a seat near by, he asked 
 
72 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 us who we were, where we were going, and how we came to be 
 so hungry. I briefly related our history, adding that we were 
 in search of employment, being anxious to earn money enough to 
 reach our yet (in that day) distant destination. After hearing 
 me through he said we had indeed been having a hard time of 
 it ; and, as my statement seemed honest, he would give us lodg- 
 ing at his own home for the night, and even for two or three 
 days, until we could look about for a situation. I grasped his 
 hand in true boyish gratitude, and thanked him, with tears in 
 my eyes for his noble generosity. John had done all the weeping 
 thus far on the trip, and now it was my turn — and ere I could 
 close down the gates, there had been considerable of a deluge of 
 real, sure-enough tears. 
 
 We found the miller's wife to be as hospitable as himself, 
 and we were made cordially at home, despite the fact that we had 
 become seedy and wayworn. After supper, however, we both 
 repaired to the mill-pond and made all the improvements possi- 
 ble in our appearance and condition, and while making our toilets 
 resolved, in order that we might not intrude unnecessarily upon 
 our kind friends, to bestir ourselves early on the morrow in search 
 of work. 
 
 When morning came, and breakfast was over, we started on 
 a tour about the adjacent country ; and, after many applications, 
 we found work for John on a brick -yard, at fifty cents a day and 
 his board. We returned in the evening, and on the following 
 morning John wended his way to his new home, which was about 
 two miles from the village. His work was very hard and rough, 
 but he faithfully toiled all that summer and until late in the fall, 
 among the soft bricks and in the clay-pits, saving his money and 
 gaining the good opinion of his employer. 
 
 Of course, the writer was too light a weight, as yet, to per- 
 form any very heavy labor, and so I had to look about for some 
 occupation that would come within the scope of my ability. My 
 greatest concern, however, having been to see my companion set- 
 tled, my joy was almost complete when he had obtained a home. 
 I felt, as I must confess, a real sadness as I parted with John — 
 he going to the brick-yard, and I on another tour about the neigh- 
 boring country. After traveling nearly all day without obtain- 
 ing any work that would fit my case, or any food with which to 
 
ODD HOURS. 73 
 
 fill the aching void, I retraced my steps to the village, with rather 
 a sad feeling in my countenance and much weariness in my limbs. 
 As I passed down the principal street, I accidentally looked up 
 and read the following sign : ' ' Tipton Advertiser— Printing Of- 
 fice." Why I suddenly became possessed of the idea of going up 
 stairs into this newspaper and printing office to apply for a situa- 
 tion — in the last occupation I should, under ordinary circum- 
 stances, have thought of — I have never been able to understand 
 to this day. Nevertheless, up I went, and as I cautiously and 
 diffidently entered the strange place I seemed to become impressed 
 with a sort of queer sensation, and even after entering the main 
 office, I was on the very point of turning and running down 
 stairs again, ere I might be discovered — ^but it was too late. The 
 foreman of the place, as I afterward found him to be, hailed me 
 with, " Heyo, young man, what can I do for you?" I approached 
 nearer, and in a stammering way asked if the proprietor was in. 
 "Yes, he's right in the next room — the editorial room — would 
 you like to see him?" I almost choked as I made out to say I 
 would like to see him if he was not particularly engaged. "All 
 right, come this way, said the foreman, and he opened the door 
 and ushered me into the presence of the editor, saying : "Judge, 
 here is a young hopeful who says he would like to interview the 
 editor ;" and then he turned and went back into the main office. 
 The editor seemed about thirty, or less, above the average weight, 
 a far more than ordinarily fine-looking gentleman, well dressed, 
 with a full, kindly face, and large, dark, fun-loving eyes. As I 
 gazed at him for an instant, my knees fairly knocked together (I 
 was weak from hunger, and very tired), and I felt as though, if 
 I didn't sink through the floor, I should feel ever so thankful if 
 some seen or unseen hand would drop me out of the window into 
 the street again, ere he spoke, or /was compelled to speak to him. 
 As I stood by the door-casing cogitating upon the ridiculous po- 
 sition I had gotten myself into, the editor swung himself around 
 on his chair, and for a full half minute said not a word, as he 
 eyed me from head to foot. Pretty soon, he half -smiled and then 
 said : 
 
 "You want to interview the editor, do you, — you young hop- 
 toad?" 
 
 I hemmed and hawed, and made out to say, "Yes, sir," al- 
 
74 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 though I never meant " No sir," more emphatically in all of my 
 bom days. 
 
 "Well sir," he continued, do you want to 'lick an editor,' 
 or anything of that sort?" 
 
 " N-o, s-i-r," I replied. What an idea, to be sure ! / ' lick 
 an editor?' 
 
 ' * Do you want to subscribe for my very excellent paper ?' ' 
 
 " N-o, s-i-r." Another preposterous proposition, thought I. 
 
 " Well, what in the jumping John Rogers do you want with 
 the editor, anyway ?' ' 
 
 "When I came up stairs," I replied (I had, by this time, 
 found the location of my tongue) , I intended to ask if you had 
 any work that I could do ; but I don't suppose you have ?" 
 
 "Work to do ! what could j/ou do in a printing office?" 
 
 That was a poser ; and I frankly told him I did not know ; 
 but that I could try and do something, if he had anything that a 
 common boy could work at, 
 
 " Come over here," he said, " and sit down till I look you 
 over a little — there ; sit right there till I gaze at you." 
 
 "What a funny man ! " thought I, hesitatingly seating my- 
 self before him ; I would have given all the work of six months, 
 to have been safely down stairs again, and out in the free air. 
 
 "Now, you young citizen of this glorious Republic," he be- 
 gan, as he eyed me sharply, "what's your name — or have you 
 a name, anyway?" 
 
 I told him what it was, in full. 
 
 "Where did you come from ? — now, no romances .' " 
 
 "From Pennsylvania, sir." 
 
 " Is this your first chase after a westering sun?" 
 
 "I — I — I don't quite understand you, sir," 
 
 "Oh, you don't saba, eh? Well, was you ever west before, 
 and if so, about how much — does that enter your ' density ?' ' ' 
 
 " Oh ! yes sir ; I spent a year and a half away up in Minnesota 
 Territory, then I went back home and spent the winter, and now 
 I am on my way back to St. Paul again, but I ran out of money, 
 and want to earn enough to get back to the frontier again." 
 
 "Then you've traveled some." 
 
 "Yes, sir— a little." 
 
 ' ' How did it happen that you came into a newspaper ofifice 
 to find work ?' ' 
 
ODD HOURS. 75 
 
 ' ' I have been in search of work for two days among the peo- 
 ple out in the country ; I got a job for my companion, on a brick- 
 yard, but he is a good deal bigger and older than I am ; as I was 
 coming down the street I happened to notice your sign, and con- 
 cluded to come and see if you might be needing a boy." 
 
 ' ' Do you think you would make a good ' devil ' in a printing 
 office?" 
 
 "A good w-h-a-t?" 
 
 "A good 'devil' — you know the boy in a printing office is 
 always called the ' printer's devil,' and most of them are first class 
 devils, too. I have one now who is a finished young imp, though 
 he is unlike Satan in one thing — my ' devil ' is lazy." 
 
 ' ' What part of the business do you expect a good ' devil ' to 
 do?" I ventured to inquire. 
 
 "Well, young man, 2. good devil about a printing office gets 
 up with the chickens, every morning ; he goes to bed at night 
 when there is nobody around, any longer, to order him about ; he 
 does everything with a pleasant smile ; he sweeps the office, saws 
 the day's wood, carries in a supply of water and dusts the furni- 
 ture, all before breakfast ; then, after a frugal meal, he does all 
 manner of chores about the place, runs errands, attends to all the 
 dirty and disagreeable little jobs, rolls the inking-roller on press- 
 days, carries papers, folds papers, builds fires, and in short does 
 anything and everything that anybody about the premises can 
 think of, to keep him busy. The pay for the first six months, 
 is one suit of cheap clothing, and fifty cents a week ; after that, 
 according to merit." 
 
 I intimated to him that it was even a less money-making bus- 
 iness than I had supposed, but that I would be willing to try it, 
 at any rate until I could do better. 
 
 "Well, my boy," he said, "I have been wanting to get a 
 good boy for some time; the one I've got now wouldn't make 
 good fish-bait ; you seem to be frank in your story, and if you 
 will go to work, and you turn out well, I may do a little better 
 by you than I have intimated." It was accordingly arranged 
 that I report the next morning for duty, and that the editor (his 
 name was Judge Spicer) should take me into his own excellent 
 family to board. [Notes — While the months following were 
 filled with stirring events in my boyish career — and I have all the 
 
76 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 details "writ" — still, the particulars thereof do not strictly per- 
 tain to this trip, as a trip. Hence, I will only make a note or two. 
 I did my duty, as a "printer's devil," satisfactorily to my em- 
 ployer, whom I found to be one of God's noblemen in every way. 
 He was second in command of one of Iowa's finest military organ- 
 izations. He soon had me a member, and presented me with a 
 handsome uniform at his own expense. During that summer we 
 did much arduous, and even dangerous, service in suppressing the 
 furious mobs of citizens who had arisen like a whirlwind to rid 
 the young commonwealth of the army of horse-thieves that had 
 well-nigh ruined hundreds of the honest farmers, by running out 
 of the state thousands of horses, which were the main dependence 
 of the pioneers of that day in their work of establishing their 
 western homes. Scores of the thieves were hung by the mobs, 
 without the aid of civil law, our command rushing from one place 
 to another to protect the helpless prisoners, but, save in two in- 
 stances, arriving just too late. I have always remembered the 
 names of the first two thieves I saw, hanging on the same tree. 
 They were young men, and the name of one was Gleason, and the 
 other, Soper. The impression made upon my young mind, as I 
 gazed upon the ghastly faces of the two dead thieves, as their 
 bodies (with arms bound behind them) swayed slowly to and fro 
 in the wind, can never become effaced. This mob-war ended the 
 horse-stealing. This campaign is embalmed, I believe, in the 
 state's annals under the title of "The Iowa Horse-thief War." 
 For we state troops, it was no picnic, and the campaign closed by 
 our being ordered to proceed with all haste to Spirit I^ake, to save 
 the settlers thereaway from a general massacre. However, just 
 as we were ready to start on the long forced march, the order was 
 countermanded — the Indians had already done their worst. 
 
 At the end of seven or eight months — having in the mean- 
 time been promoted to the rank of a sergeant in the Guards — I 
 obtained an honorable discharge — embellished around the edges 
 by "favorable mentions," — canceled all my obligations to my 
 great-hearted employer, arranged with John — who had saved up 
 his earnings — to continue our journey to Minnesota, arriving in 
 St. Paul with no farther incident worthy of especial mention, after 
 the lapse of nearly nine months from leaving home. This was 
 my second and last trip to the Northwest, and the singular " acci- 
 
ODD HOURS. 77 
 
 dent*' of my having, in my extremity, gone into the Tipton Ad- 
 vertiser office to get a job, seems to have decided my life-work — 
 that of printer and journalist. Verily, we are the children of 
 circumstance ; or rather, a loving Father guides our steps into 
 paths we wot not of. 
 
 John, after "roughing it" on the frontier for a couple of 
 years, returned home, married, and settled down to the noble oc- 
 cupation of raising "garden sass," and a large family — in a low 
 sequestered vale among the laurel-sided Alleghany Mountains, 
 where card-sharpers never enter, and wolves ne'er sing their eve- 
 ning lullaby. 
 
 --^s^. 
 
"A MIGHTY CLOSE SHAVE" 
 
 ONCE upon a time, when Minnesota was only a territo- 
 rial sister in the Union family, and when the writer 
 was but a nimble youth, I had my first real adventure 
 with wolves — which, when taken in connection with 
 a number of other "sessions" in which these creatures 
 and myself were jointly concerned, always made me 
 'spise a wolf. 
 
 " Billy" was a frontier chum of mine, and though 
 much older, was but little larger of stature than my- 
 self. He was a famous hunter (but not a trapper) for so young 
 a man — small, wiry, with small, keen gray eyes, the reddest of 
 hair, fearless, and thoroughly versed in woodcraft. I had often 
 accompanied Billy in his all-day chases after deer. He would 
 start out as soon as it was light, of a cold winter morning, with 
 tomahawk and knife in his belt, his "sure-speak" rifle on his 
 shoulder, and after taking a fresh chew he would say, "Now, 
 f oiler me; jump inter my tracks, an' I guess yer kin keep up." 
 At this, he would strike what he called a "dog-trot," and I, 
 adopting his gait, would lope along after him. Billy, like all his 
 kind whom I ever knew, was a young man of very few words, 
 and most of them were spoken in subdued tones, savoring of the 
 mysterious, and one had to know him well in order to catch their 
 full meaning, especially when on one of his hunting excursions. 
 He prided himself on his ability to literally ' ' run down' ' his game 
 and secure it with his stealthy approach and unerring marksman- 
 ship, at some hour between morning and nightfall. He would 
 keep up a " lope " from morning till night, on the trail, unless he 
 came upon his game before, stopping only at mid-day to rest for 
 ten minutes and eat a frozen pocket-lunch, and get his bearings. 
 I accompanied him on more than one occasion when we must 
 have traveled thirty miles or more — through deep snow, the tem- 
 perature "thirty below," up hill and down dale, through open- 
 ings, barrens, dense woods and thickets. In those days there 
 
ODD HOURS. 79 
 
 were but few settlers in the Big Woods, and none, save here and 
 there along the river. The whole region was a practically unset- 
 tled, unbounded and almost unexplored timbered wilderness, well 
 inhabited, however, by deer, bear, wolves, lynx, wildcats and 
 smaller game in abundance, with here and there a village of wild 
 Sioux Indians. 
 
 Upon occasions when Billy failed to come up with his game 
 —or failed to run upon deer other than the particular ones he was 
 following — he would cease the chase just before nightfall, and 
 after getting his reckoning, would strike out on a straight line for 
 home; or, if he made a "kill," he would hang his deer high up 
 on a bent sapling, out of reach of the wolves until the next day. 
 It was upon one of these chases — a fruitless, or rather, a game- 
 less one — that at dark we found ourselves about seven miles, on a 
 direct line, from our settlement. Billy proposed that, as we were 
 pretty tired after our big day's run, we take it pretty leisurely, 
 as we would be able to make the distance, if we did not vary from 
 our course, by bedtime. The moon shone brightly, lighting up 
 the deep, frosty snow in all the open glades with millions of glit- 
 tering points, the aurora in the northern sky came out with her 
 weird and fiery dancers, and the cold was intense. We traveled 
 along through the very deep snow as rapidly as our tired limbs 
 would admit, neither saying anything, more than an occasional 
 question and answer. 
 
 We had proceeded but a couple of miles or less, however, 
 when a long, heavy howl of a gray, or "timber wolf," was heard 
 coming from the depths of a great thicket that bordered upon a 
 little stream we were about to cross. Billy remarked, merely, 
 " that was a big one." I replied, in effect, that I thought, judg- 
 ing from his voice, that he was big enough to eat both of us, if 
 he happened to be as hungry as I was, just at that writing. We 
 trudged along, again relapsing into silence. We both knew that 
 during a long time of deep snow, the wolves were apt to become 
 more fierce than usual, owing to the increased difficulty in finding 
 food ; still, our confidence in our own swiftness of foot, and great 
 endurance, made us feel tolerably at ease on the wolf question, 
 especially as we thought the deep snow would retard their wonted 
 great speed more than our own, should they strike our trail. 
 [Note — In these latter days, though I were to state the simple, 
 
8o UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 unvarnished truth in regard to the swiftness, and the equally re- 
 markable endurance, of many of those early-day frontiermen, the 
 statements would stand but small show of credence. All the same, 
 if the reader will follow through the pages of this book, I have 
 confidence that they will believe it, at least insofar as it applies 
 to the scribbler of these pages — because, at a proper place in these 
 "Sketches of the West," I shall give some reasons why such en- 
 durance and swiftness of foot was possible, and how cultivated.] 
 We had but barely gained the opposite bank of the stream, when 
 the same howl again reached our ears, which was speedily taken 
 up by another and another, until the narrator's hair fairly stood 
 up. We both stopped, involuntarily, and listened breathlessly 
 for a moment, as the savage howls died away in the otherwise 
 silent wood, only soon to be taken up by another of the hungry 
 monsters. I had every confidence in my companion, both as to 
 his bravery, trueness, and sagacity, and knew that whatever 
 might befall us, my own fate would also be Billy's fate. 
 
 Finally, Billy remarked in his droll and intrepid manner : — 
 ''Home's a better place than this, at this time o' night, when 
 t-hem'ere tamal critters are talkin' that way — kin ye foller me, at 
 a purty fair sort o' gait, my boy?" 
 
 - I told him I would try, but rather intimated to him that I 
 would like to have him stay with me if I failed. 
 
 He turned his face quickly toward me, his little gray eyes 
 fairly flashing a spark out from the icy frost that hung thick and 
 heavy all about his sharp features, as he said : " Look a' here, my 
 boy, I never went inter camp yit, without my company. Now you 
 jest jump into my track, ev'ey lope, an it '11 be easier fer ye ; I 
 know a trail that '11 bother them devils, if they foller us, and, mind 
 ye, keep close to me, an' when I jump — about two miles from 
 here — you jump, too, an' we'll give 'em as neat a trot as they've 
 had for many a day ; I know your gait, an' if yer haint too tired 
 fr'm yer day's exercise, I'll defy either wolf or Injun, to ketch 
 'ary one of us. Now, let's be a'goin'." 
 
 At this, we started, and keeping Billy's instructions in mind, 
 I dropped steadily into his tracks, as rapidly as he made and left 
 them. The cold had rapidly increased during the latter part of 
 the day and evening, and that night was, for years afterward, well 
 remembered as one of the very coldest ever known even in that 
 
ODD HOURS. 8 1 
 
 high latitude. On, on we went, at a tremendous speed and with 
 measured stride, or rather leap ; after a time, I felt sure my feet 
 were freezing, though my body was, under the tremendous exer- 
 tion, swelteringly hot. Neither of us had on our feet anything 
 but one pair of thin, short-legged socks, and a pair of boots, and 
 the latter were frozen hard as rocks. My feet began to lose their 
 feeling, which was a bad indication. In response to my inquiry 
 as to how his feet felt, Billy said his didn't feel at all; and he 
 reckoned that we'd have to take our boots off, and go in our stock- 
 ings, or else lose our feet, altogether. The boots were so hard 
 and curled into solid wrinkles, that all circulation was cut off, 
 and it was therefore only a question of a short time before our 
 feet, from the ankle downward would be frozen solid. If we took 
 them off in time, the circulation would be restored, and the like- 
 lihood was that we would save our feet, though we might lose 
 our toes. 
 
 The wolves had now fairly struck our trail, as we could tell, 
 and there seemed to be a jolly lot of them, indeed. Of course we 
 could not tahe to a tree, as we would very soon perish with the 
 cold ; we could not think of standing our ground, unless there was 
 no other way possibly left us, because there were too many, and 
 they were of too big and savage a kind of wolf to be met, in so 
 big a pack with only old-fashioned, muzzle-loading rifles, and be- 
 side, our hands had become too numb to load them, or to even 
 handle our tomahawks effectively. The only way out of . that 
 " froze pickle," as Billy called it, was to ride out on our legs. 
 
 Owing to our fatigued condition, and even though we were 
 making at least a good three-fourths gait — which was an elegant 
 showing under the circumstances — the wolves were evidently 
 gaining on us pretty rapidly, and ere we had made a mile farther 
 it seemed as if pandemonium had been let loose at our heels. As 
 we leaped over the bank of a little frozen brook, Billy stopped 
 suddenly and sat down on the snow, and remarked : ' ' The miser- 
 able brutes might just as well have us fur their supper as fur to 
 git home without no feet — we'll do better without no boots on." 
 
 At this, he snatched the boots off his senseless feet, while I 
 followed his example, asking no questions. 
 
 " I'll leave my boots right here, an' they'll do fur the hungry 
 dogs to quarrel over fur a minnit or two, an' they'll lose a little 
 
82 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ground for their foolishness ; you carry yours a little furder on," 
 
 Scarcely a dozen seconds were lost in the operation, and again 
 we went bounding through the snow, all the faster from being 
 lighter of foot — though our feet, by this time, did not seem to 
 have any more feeling than if they had been made of stone. 
 
 Soon the pack, as we could plainly tell, came upon the boots, 
 and for the space of half a minute or so, wolf -jangling of the 
 highest order stirred the monotony of the wilderness. Billy could 
 not resist one of his quaint remarks, and so, between jumps he 
 made out to observe : "I reckon them hounds is janglin' to see 
 which'll wear my boots." 
 
 " More likely they're trying to decide which shall eat 'em," 
 I suggested. 
 
 "Well, I reckon they're purty scraggly lookin* boots by this 
 time, anyhow," he returned. 
 
 It was very evident that, whatever disposition they had made 
 of them, the pack scented better game ahead, and on they came, 
 gaining steadily upon their intended prey. When within a mile 
 or so of the settlement, the leaders got so near us, that occasion- 
 ally we could hear their fierce panting, as they came flying along 
 through the deep snow. The case began to look hopeless, indeed, 
 and it was evident that unless some (to me) unforeseen turn of 
 fortune came to pass in our favor, another half-mile must tell the 
 tale of our undoing. 
 
 It now resolved itself into a race for life, and no mistake. 
 Though our endurance began to wane, our courage, somehow, 
 kept up to a point beyond what might have been expected. Billy , 
 ever and anon, would turn his head and give me a word of encour- 
 agement, and he seemed, by his tone, to feel sure we would beat 
 them yet — ^but how? Just as the wolves came bounding over the 
 brink of a small ravine which we had just crossed, Billy said, 
 " Drop your boots and gun right behind you." I did so, and in 
 a moment more he threw his gun also. * ' Tomahawk in one hand 
 — knife in t'other," and we both acted on the word. 
 
 The boots and gun had the effect of somewhat breaking the 
 gait of the foremost wolves, and gave us a little start. 
 
 On we went, with every nerve strained to the utmost tension, 
 though it seemed plain that they must overtake us ere we reached 
 within half a mile of home, for now the foremost of the snarling , 
 panting brutes were within a dozen rods of us. 
 
ODD HOURS. 83 
 
 "When I jump, you foller me," said Billy, "fur it's our 
 only chance — so, don't ye stagger at it, but leap just as I do ; d'ye 
 hear?" 
 
 I gasped out, " yes," and hardly had I uttered it, ere Billy 
 gave a leap and a yell, and I flew out into moon-lit space after 
 him. Down, down we went, and the first intimation I had that 
 we had ?iot jumped off the top of the Rocky Mountains, was when 
 we both went head-over-heels into a monster snowdrift some forty 
 feet below — both landing but a few feet apart. 
 
 As luck would have it, we sprained no joints, nor broke a 
 bone, though being somewhat stunned and bruised. Billy, true 
 to his character, soon scrambled out through the drift and called 
 out : " Whar are ye now, boy? Give us yer voice a trifle ; fur I 
 don't want ter know I made ye kill yerself — are ye alive an' kick- 
 in' any whar ' round here ? ' ' 
 
 About at the conclusion of his inquiries, I had sufficiently 
 recovered from the shock, to come digging out at the lower side 
 of the drift to solid footing at the bottom of what was locally 
 known as Big Coulie. 
 
 " I thought we'd give them the slip, one way, if we couldn't 
 another, an' now the tarnal critters can howl their dog-on heads 
 off up yonder, if they want to, but they're too big cowards to do 
 that sort of a jump ; an' the only way they can reach us is to go 
 up the coulie half a mile and come down into this one by a branch 
 ravine; it's har'ly worth their while, though, 'cause we'll strike 
 camp now, in a fifteen minutes' jog, by follerin' down the coulie 
 on the ice." 
 
 Sure enough, we left the wolves away up on the verge of the 
 precipice, howling and fighting each other in their rage, and soon 
 we struck the settlement, a pair of very sorry-looking hunters. 
 Our hair, eyebrows (we had no whiskers) and clothes were a mass 
 of frost and ice, we were exhausted to the last degree, and we 
 found all our toes, heels, and the sides of our feet badly frozen, 
 which kept us confined to the good settler's cabin for many days. 
 After drawing the frost out with snow, as well as we could, the 
 good wife — Mrs. James Ward — did up our feet in large poultices 
 of wild honey, a full pint to each foot, and to this original sort of 
 remedy I believe we owed the rapid recovery, though our feet 
 were extremely tender for months afterward. 
 
 Billy always referred to this particular one of our many little 
 adventures in the wild forests of those early days, as " A mighty 
 close shave." 
 
LOST IN A STORM. 
 
 T was late iti the fall of 1856 ; the country on the uppef 
 1 Minnesota River was beyond the borders of anything 
 
 approaching real civilization, even at that time. My 
 three elder brothers had a contract for transporting a 
 large supply of government and Indian stores from St. 
 Paul to Ft. Ridgely and the Indian Agency, farther tip 
 the river. All the supplies had been delivered, up the 
 tortuous and difficult stream, save one flatboat load, 
 which had been entrusted to my second elder brother, 
 my own little-boy self, and a sturdy creW of French polers, to 
 rush through with all possible haste, lest the river froze over ere 
 we reached our destination, and effected a return down riVer to 
 winter quarters again. By the inducement of extra pay, our en- 
 during crew "poled" the heavily-laden craft, late and early — 
 against the stubborn current, through among the thousands of 
 bone-like snags that filled the countlessi bends, and over rapids^— 
 occasionally making twenty-five or even thirty miles in a day's 
 run ; Which meant only half that distance by land. As we pro- 
 ceeded, the weather began to grow colder and colder, and our 
 voyage soon resolved itself into a race with Jack Frost. Our Wil- 
 ling crew patiently bent their shoulders to their poles — five polers 
 on either side — starting out at earliest dawn and continuing to riin 
 as long as we coiild see at night. We had reached, one night, a 
 point known to we earliest rivermen as " the Red Door," so des- 
 ignated on account of there being on the river bank at that point 
 a shanty, belonging to a lone pioneer, who had painted the door 
 of his miserable shack a bright, blood-red color; it being located 
 two or three miles, by land, below the present town of New Ulm. 
 We laid up for that night in the bend next above the Red Door, 
 unable to proceed a rod farther by reason of the black darkness, 
 and the utter exhaustion of our hardy and willing crew — laying 
 the boat to the shore just after having fought our way over an 
 ugly chain of rapids, and through the slush-ice already gathering. 
 
ODD HOURS. 85 
 
 This was "a pretty kettle of fish," as my brother, Captain Ed., 
 observed as he went on deck in the morning an viewed the Arctic- 
 looking prospect o'er. The weather, by morning, had moderated 
 somewhat, but the whole heavens were overcast by thick, slaty- 
 colored clouds, that looked as if they had come to stay until they 
 should be able to unload their congested stomachs of their over- 
 load of snow — and so it shortly afterward proved. 
 
 Being now frozen in, by ice almost thick enough to carry a 
 person, after our breakfast of strong tea, heavy biscuit and salt 
 pork, a counsel was held. It was soon determined that my brother 
 would proceed to a distant settlement and hire as many of the 
 settlers as he could, with their ox-teams, and haul the freight 
 overland to the fort. Meantime, the writer to go to an Indian 
 village not far distant and procure a pony, and with it make the 
 trip back to the village of St. Peter, or Traverse des Sioux, and 
 procure the necessary money to pay the very large expense of the 
 teaming. 
 
 I happened to be well-acquainted with the chief of the Indi- 
 an village, and after considerable haggling as to the price to be 
 paid for the use of the pony, I secured one which proved capable 
 of the most wonderful endurance. 
 
 It was about the middle of the afternoon before I was ready 
 for a start across the uninhabited region, stretching away some 
 twenty or thirty miles toward St. Peter ; but, nothing daunted, 
 and believing I could follow the rather plain trail, and after get- 
 ting minute instructions from my brother, as well as many a cau- 
 tion to watch our course and to make as much of the distance 
 before nightfall, as possible, I gave the pony the regular Indian 
 whoop and we were soon out of sight over the neighboring bluffs. 
 
 Before leaving the boat I noticed that the clouds in the south- 
 west had grown particularly heavy and threatening, and had I 
 possessed more experience in the matter of snow-storms on the 
 prairies, I should have known it to be madness to have undertaken 
 such a trip through such a country, in the face of the accumulat- 
 ing evidence of an approaching storm. 
 
 My progress was both rapid and pleasant for the remainder 
 of the afternoon, and as my wiry little horse sped along the trail, 
 and I gazed about on the vast, wild domain on every side, I grew 
 enthusiastic in its enjoyment — singing and whistling in turn, and 
 
86 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 mayhap thinking, now and then, of a little rosy -cheeked maiden 
 away back in the far East, who had "spelled me down" once in 
 school on this very word, " prairie." I had left out the first " i"' 
 and she didn't. There had fallen, the night before, about an inch 
 of snow, and the great prairie rolled away in undulating billows 
 of white, silent grandeur, as far as the eye could reach. There 
 was nothing to break the lonely spell, save an occasional flock of 
 prairie-chickens that would start up, or a jack -rabbit, coyote or 
 fox that would now and then be startled from their lair by the 
 hoofs of my little pony, and go scurrying away to some secluded 
 locality, where there was less clatter than prevailed along the 
 trail noisily followed by myself and pony. 
 
 As night approached, the storm also came with it, and by 
 dusk it was snowing very hard, and the wind also blew a lively 
 breeze ; though, as good luck would have it, it was not cold. By 
 the time darkness overtook me, I judged I had made over half 
 the distance, and must be within fifteen miles or so of my destin- 
 ation. Just before dark, I took as thorough a view of the lay of 
 the country ahead and upon either side, as the falling snow would 
 admit of, though about all the landmarks that were distinguisha- 
 ble were the distant and scattering belt of timber that skirted the 
 river away to the rignt, and the grove at the head of what I sup- 
 posed, and rightly, to be Swan Lake — of which beautiful sheet 
 of water I had heard. Passing this grove, it was the last object I 
 saw during that memorable night — at least until the early morn- 
 ing hour. 
 
 Up to this hour the storm had given me no uneasiness ; in 
 those days, "roughing it" was but another name for thorough 
 enjoyment ; and though but a mere lad, I had been through so 
 many clear and well-defined cases of " roughing it" on the fron- 
 tier, that the storm which now enveloped myself and the sturdy 
 little Indian pony promised, to my mind, only an occasion for a 
 fresh sort of adventure — and I was not disappointed. The idea 
 of my becoming totally, and well-nigh hopelessly, lost on that 
 terrible night never, for an instant, entered my head. In the first 
 place, I had every confidence in my ability to keep at least some- 
 where near a proper course, and of coming out all right in a cou- 
 ple of hours or so after night had set in ; and beside, I felt sure 
 the pony's instinct would prevent my wandering far away from 
 at least some river- valley settlement. 
 
ODD HOURS, 87 
 
 The night was not so very dark, of itself, and had it not been 
 for the blinding storm of snow and the savagely rising wind that 
 now began to sweep across the prairie with great severity, I could 
 have kept on my course with but little difficulty. The navigator 
 will seldom decline to run his craft, save when caught in a fog i he 
 draws the line, however, at a fog-bank ; nothing is so bewilder- 
 ing to all human sense and judgment as a fog on the water, save 
 its twin — a blizzard snow-storm on the prairie. 
 
 Very soon after passing Swan Lake, I found it impossible to 
 follow the trail, and it was not long until the storm had increased 
 to a fury ; all I could do was to sit astride my little animal and 
 bury my face as well as possible in my coat-collar and the Indian 
 sash I had wound around my head and neck ; my feet were en- 
 cased in moccasins, and I wore buckskin leggings coming above 
 the knee, and mittens of the same material. It was not until I 
 had lost all sight of every object, far or near, and been thrown 
 wholly upon the sagacity and endurance of my pony, that I began 
 to realize the seriousness of the situation. The snow soon grew 
 so deep that the pony could but struggle through it in a walk, 
 and whither he was traveling I knew not, nor did I think the 
 pony himself could keep his bearings in such a wild storm. The 
 snow seemed to fall in absolute masses at last, and I felt sure we 
 must be buried alive, and packed solidly by the force of the wind. 
 
 On, and still on, I went. The wind blew a hurricane, and I 
 can never forget the forlorn sensations with which I was thrilled 
 as it rushed across the wild and weird plain with that sullen and 
 ceaseless roar only heard where no obstacles exist to give variety 
 to its monotonous moan. The little animal that carried me would 
 sometimes stop, and paw the ground in his trepidation, and blow 
 at the nostrils, as if to say, " I am lost, exhausted and perishing." 
 I would willingly have dismounted and struggled along as best I 
 could — relieving the little animal even of my slight weight — but 
 something seemed to tell me to remain mounted, despite my pity 
 for the faithful little beast. The weather was rapidly growing 
 colder. By midnight, as I judged the time, I had become so stiff 
 and chilled, weak and wretched, that it was with great difficulty 
 I could retain my position, and many times came near rolling off 
 headlong into the deepening drifts — and if I had, it would have 
 nipped a very brilliant (?) career in its early bud, as I never could 
 
88 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 have gained my feet again, much less mounted the almost ex- 
 hausted pony. 
 
 I now felt sure we were wandering at random, simply being 
 governed by the formation of the ground, and as the wind and 
 storm dictated. I lay forward on the pony and balanced myself 
 by clinging about his neck with my arms, and soon fell into a 
 sort of semi-conscious state. I had heard of persons who had been 
 exposed to these plains blizzards, and that their greatest danger 
 was the inability to resist going to sleep — which under such cir- 
 cumstances would prove their last slumber. Against this almost 
 overpowering inclination I aroused my most stubborn energy, and 
 battled with it as only a determined will could battle, in the face 
 of a full knowledge of the result, should I give up to it. It did 
 seem at times as though I must succumb to the vice-like power 
 that held me, and I was sure that had I possessed a diamond mine 
 I should willingly have given it for a sweet night's sleep. No one 
 can believe the fascinating power of this cold-sleep — this death- 
 sleep — who has never experienced it. It is the most ravishingly 
 delightful and deceptive charm in the phenomena of all physical 
 nature, as I verily believe. I fought it, and although at times — 
 as if it were a dream — I saw my old home, with its glowing fire- 
 place, my warm bed, and the family about the hearth, I did not 
 lose all knowledge of my real position. It was a fight to a finish 
 between an agonizing desire to sleep, and an unconquerable deter- 
 mination to remain awake. 
 
 A happy circumstance it was, that while it was growing rap- 
 idly colder, it had not yet become particularly freezing — the awful 
 frost -king, however, who would wither every living thing exposed 
 to his touch, was surely close at hand, now. As if to reward me 
 for my determined battle against the death-sleep, the hours of 
 the approaching morning gradually, and to a slight extent, illum- 
 ined my senses ; though every joint in my body seemed to be set 
 solidly, and it was with the utmost difficulty that I could raise my 
 hand to the bridle-rein. Of course, for some hours past I had 
 permitted, as I had to do, the pony to stand or move on, at his 
 own will, or as the awful wind and cutting snow permitted. I 
 felt sure that if he could not find his way to a settlement, through 
 the wonderful instinct the horse is known to possess, certainly it 
 was not in my power to find the way out of the solitude of that 
 
ODD HOURS. 89 
 
 trackless and storm-ravaged waste, even had I possessed the abil- 
 ity to make the effort. 
 
 I had well-nigh given up all hope of ever reaching either a 
 settlement or an Indian village, however, because I had every 
 reason to believe that the pony had simply been wandering aim- 
 lessly — drifting before the pitiless storm — and from his spasmodic 
 actions, I knew he could keep his feet but a short time longer at 
 best ; and as for myself, I had now reached and passed several 
 stages of suffering, and the only other thing that now seemed left 
 me to do was to roll off into the shifting snow — that seemed to 
 change and crawl under the depressing weight of the mighty gale 
 — and be quickly shrouded by a snowy sheet, with the mourning 
 tempest to chant its solemn requiem. 
 
 But, hark ! — no, it was the storm. No — listen — is it a voice ? 
 By a struggle I made out to reach the rein and halt the pony ; I 
 held the little breath left me, to catch the sound — if sound if was, 
 other than the fiend-like shriek of the storm-king, as he reveled 
 in his victory. Yes ! — there it is, again — away here to the right; 
 up in the face of the wind — it is surely the sound of a human 
 voice ! God be praised ! — hark ! Yes, it is really true, and it 
 sounds like man's invocation to his Creator. I grasp convulsively 
 the rein, and force, as best I can, the perishing animal's face to 
 the biting storm ; I urge him to proceed, which he does, almost 
 by inches only ; his will seemed to rise in a last heroic struggle 
 to respond to his rider's will ; he crawls along, as the jog of the 
 rein indicates. The sound grows more distinct ! It is a voice, 
 and seems continuous, and as if talking loudly ! Ho ! — a light 
 glimmers fitfully through the deluge of snow, that now cuts like 
 sand hurled from a blast-furnace. A moment more and we are 
 at the cabin-door. The voice ceases within, but I raise my own, 
 feebly, from without. A stalwart pioneer opens the door, and 
 stares out at the snow-mantled apparition. He comprehends at 
 a glance ; with a ' ' God be praised for so quick an answer to my 
 supplication ! " he carried me, in his great strong arms, into the 
 rude but neat and cozy cabin, where he and his noble wife tend- 
 erly nursed me for three days, meantime caring for and reviving 
 the faithful little beast. I had not reached the freezing point but 
 had been chilled, even unto death's very threshold. What I had 
 heard, and what had saved me, was the night-prayer of this big- 
 
go 
 
 UNCLE DbDLEY'S 
 
 hearted Christian borderman, as he loudly invoked God's succof 
 to any unfortunate ones who might have been overtaken by the 
 awful storm, which raged for two days. I was the fruit of that 
 prayer, — but oh, how unworthy ! Do I believe in the eflScacy of 
 prayer? In the face of this event, and a hundred others, in my 
 own personal experience, how could I but answer, in deepest rev 
 erence, and with unspeakable gratitude,— I do—/ do — I do. 
 
AN INCIDENT OF ' SIXTY ^ TWO, 
 
 N August, 1862, I was a resident of Shakopee, Minn,, 
 I (having recently been discharged from Company K, 
 
 Second Minnesota Infantry, for disability received in 
 the line of duty in the South.) When General Sibley 
 with his army was called up the Minnesota River val- 
 ley, by reason of the outbreak of the Sioux Indians in 
 the bloodiest and most widespread massacre known in 
 the history of this country, he first landed his forces 
 at Shakopee, After diligent inquiry of the fleeing 
 refugees — who were coming down from the upper country in ev- 
 ery degree of despair and destitution — he determined to move 
 with his army up the south side of the river. Still, he was anx- 
 ious to ascertain the true condition of affairs in the north side 
 country, toward Young America, Glencoe and Hutchinson. He 
 therefore called for volunteers to scout through that region, and 
 report to him at whatever point he could be reached, on his march 
 up the south side, to the relief of the beleagured garrison at Fort 
 Ridgley. I, (with some thirty others), feeling it a duty to ren- 
 der what assistance was possible in the dreadful calamity that had 
 come upon the helpless thousands along an extended frontier like 
 a whirlwind — though not physically strong — instantly responded 
 to the call, I immediately procured a powerful and a "furious" 
 horse, arms, and other suitable equipments, and just before sun- 
 down of the same day, the whole troop of scouts crossed the river 
 at Carver, Here we met several hundred men, women and chil- 
 dren. The fleeing multitude were struggling to gain a crossing 
 at the old rope ferry, others were forcing themselves on board the 
 little steamer "Antelope," until she was compelled to pull into 
 mid-stream to prevent being sunk at the shore. The village was 
 packed with people, excitedly swaying first in one direction and 
 then another, while the road coming from the northward frontier 
 through the dark, dense Big Woods, was packed with others, in 
 every degree of fright, misery and destitution. They agreed only 
 
92 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 in one thing : that the Indians were close at hand and in force. 
 The terror and excitement was enough to cause the stoutest heart 
 to quail ; many seemed to have gone mad, and their frenzied as- 
 sertions spread like a contagion. Many had fled from homes sit- 
 uated thirty or forty miles distant, with little more on them than 
 their scanty night-clothes, leaving everything behind and uncared 
 for— including thousands of dollars' worth of stock in bams, and 
 other enclosures, to perish for want of food and water. As the 
 troop sat on their horses amid the distracted multitude, listening 
 to the babble and striving to gather from the confused statements 
 some knowledge of the real situation for thirty miles through the 
 woods to Glencoe, it was a scene never to be forgotten. These dis- 
 tressed people almost plead that we should not proceed farther, 
 as the Indians would certainly be found in force between Young 
 America, fifteen miles distant, and Glencoe, thirty miles away, at 
 the farthest. This, then, seemed the most reliable information 
 obtainable, and just as the last rays of the red August sun tinged 
 the tree-tops, the troop slowly picked its way through the motley 
 crowd, passed out of the village, along a muddy road and into 
 the darkening shades of the Big Woods. The experiences of that 
 first night-march is a memory never to be effaced from the mind, 
 of either the scouts or refugees. The troop carefully picked their 
 way along on either side of the dark, muddy and crooked road, 
 giving the refugees — who were on foot, in wagons with boxes, 
 and wagons with hay-racks, some drawn by horses, others by 
 oxen — the middle of the road. This "stream of woe" continued 
 all night, but grew much thinner toward morning, until the ex- 
 posed region seemed pretty well drained. These people so per- 
 sistently begged us to turn back (asserting positively that the 
 Indians were close at hand, and that if we persisted in going for- 
 ward we would be killed, to a man), that at last the whole troop 
 came to a halt for counsel. After an earnest debate, a vote was 
 taken, and, with one solitary exception, it was decided to join the 
 fleeing fugitives and return. Save for the sake of ' ' the truth of 
 history," I should not say who cast the lone vote against a re- 
 treat. I begged the troop to still go forward until we could get 
 the facts of the situation from personal knowledge. Growing im- 
 patient at last, I spurred my powerful black horse ahead a few 
 rods and, turning to the halted column, said : " Men, you may 
 
ODD HOURS. 93 
 
 all go back if you choose, but as for myself, I am going on until 
 I actuall}^ meet the hostiles, or until I have traversed the whole 
 country assigned us by General Sibley, and report to him, as we 
 have been ordered to do ; I shall wait just one moment to see if 
 any one dares join me." Instantly, Sheriff Frank McGrade, who 
 was in reality the authorized head of the expedition, and Garrett 
 DuBois, sprang to my side, and were immediately followed by 
 two brothers named Kearney, who all declared they would go to 
 the end — or till they struck Indians. All the others turned back, 
 and the hoof -beats of the fleeing horsemen gradually died away 
 in the direction of Carver. We five proceeded on our way, and 
 at an hour well toward morning reached Young America, where 
 we found quite a number of the pioneers collected in the big log 
 hotel, and who were, when we came in upon them, seriously dis- 
 cussing the propriety of making a stand, and were hopeful of in- 
 creasing their strength by persuading many of the refugees to 
 join them, and by fortifying themselves at that point. Here were 
 collected already some twenty men, with treble the number of 
 women and children. The big two-story tavern, built of hewn 
 logs, would itself have made a good fort, if properly barricaded, 
 and the balance of the village consisted of six or eight neat and 
 strong log houses. Among those assembled here was a family 
 named Finch, whom I had formerly known, and in which there 
 were five grown daughters. Our appearance among these sturdy 
 settlers greatly strengthened their hopes and confidence, particu- 
 larly when they learned our intention of continuing our way in 
 the direction of the danger point. They gave us feed for our 
 horses, and served us with a good and hearty repast, the Finch 
 girls taking our case in hand in that hospitable way so character- 
 istic of kindly natures under trying circumstances. Beside that, 
 they, as well as all the rest, looked upon we five as being a bit 
 heroic, in our fixed purpose of pushing on into the enemy's coun- 
 try. This fact, too, settled their determination to make a stand 
 there. We promised them that we should tell all whom we met 
 of their intention, advise all to join them, and to go no farther 
 from their homes. We further told them that should we come 
 upon the hostiles we should return to them, and form a part of 
 their garrison. As we afterward learned, this arrangement on 
 our part proved most fortunate for them ; a large number of the 
 
94 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 refugees we subsequently met were induced to stay their flight at 
 that point, instead of rushing on to their complete undoing in a 
 pecuniary sense — for, thereby, they saved to themselves the little 
 property they possessed, while hundreds rushed onward even into 
 other states and lost everything. 
 
 After but an hour's rest at Young America, and while still 
 dark, save for the dim glow of the stars as it sifted down through 
 the foliage of the trees that closely hemmed in the muddy and 
 crooked road, we were again under way. A mile had been passed. 
 For the most part, we picked our way along in single file, especi- 
 ally where the road was muddiest. While thus proceeding along 
 the left-hand side of a particularly wide pool of mud and water, 
 I saw, in the uncertain starlight, a white object away across on 
 the opposite margin of the pool. I reined in my horse and called 
 the attention of the others to the object. One said it was but a 
 newspaper. Another asserted that it was probably some old lady's 
 nightcap that had been jolted off by a fleeing wagon. They all 
 agreed that it was a matter of not the slightest importance — that 
 it was Indians, and not old newspapers or nightcaps, we were in 
 quest of. Thus we bantered each other, in an undertone, as we 
 cautiously picked our way along. Something seemed to impress 
 me, however, in regard to the object, and by the time we had ar- 
 rived at the farther end of the pool I determined to ride back and 
 around to that side of the miniature mud-lake and investigate the 
 white object, at all hazards of ridicule on the part of my four 
 compatriots, who meantime, flattered themselves that they were 
 perpetrating several very clever remarks at the expense of my 
 rather juvenile, or feminine curiosity, as they sat their horses and 
 waited for me. Arriving at the spot, I dismounted, and, holding 
 the bridle-rein in my left hand, and stepping out into the soft 
 mud, reached out with my right and dragged to me the fabric — 
 for fabric it proved to be. Upon getting it fairly out of the mud 
 and to the edge of the dry ground, I squatted down and exam- 
 ined my "find" with much curiosity. What was my amaze- 
 ment, upon a very close inspection in the dim light, to distinguish 
 the features of a pretty little baby ! — that afterward proved to be 
 a sweet little girl-baby. It had doubtless been one of a " numer- 
 ous family," which had occupied a hay-rack wagon, and in the 
 awful excitement of that awful night-rush had "leaked through" 
 
ODD HOURS. 95 
 
 the rack unnoticed by the panic-stricken parents. It had, evi- 
 dently been sleeping very contentedly in its soft bed of mud, for, 
 as nearly as I could see, it had just awoke as I pulled it to me. I 
 fancied I could distinctly see a sweet smile play over its pretty 
 little features as I cleaned the mud off its clothes, somewhat, and 
 snuggled it to my breast as I carefully remounted my horse from 
 the top of a big log, near by. Then, retracing my way to where 
 the four horsemen awaited me, I remarked that the "old news- 
 paper" had been recovered, and asked them to come and hear 
 me read "the latest news." They crowded about me, craning 
 their necks to see what I had gathered from the big mudhole, 
 and in a moment more the whole truth flashed upon them. They 
 all wanted to get hold of it, to feel doubly sure it was indeed a 
 live baby ; but just then, it gave a little kick, and " c-o-o-e-d " up 
 at them, as if it would say, " Isn't this a picnic ! " 
 
 The next unsolved problem was, what should we do with it? 
 After a brief consultation, I decided it myself, by saying that we 
 would ride back to the village, where I would give it in charge of 
 the Finch sisters to care for until ownership should be proven. 
 This plan was carried out, and our return, so soon, was at first 
 construed by the excited settlers into the idea that we had met 
 the Indians, and returned to join their garrison, as we promised. 
 When they saw what we bore, however, and learned the details, 
 the Indians were forgotten for the moment, in the interest and 
 excitement over my little "mudhole angel" — the women, partic- 
 ularly, went wild over it. The Misses Finch were proud over my 
 gift to them, and promised to give it the best of care, as we once 
 more turned our horses' heads toward Glencoe, in the full glow 
 of a beautiful morning. It may be stated here that I was told 
 some weeks afterward that, on that very day, a lone horseman 
 came into the village, as if pursued by all the furies, from the 
 direction of Carver. Coatless, hatless, his hair streaming to the 
 breeze, wildly inquiring of every one if they had found a baby. 
 When, at last, he found it at Young America, not only alive, but 
 the little "belle of the garrison," his joy knew no bounds. It 
 was, indeed, a miracle that the little thing had not either been 
 smothered, or drowned, in the place it was found, or run over 
 and crushed, by the scores of vehicles of all kinds that had gone 
 that way after it had dropped out of its family membership ; and 
 
96 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 this circumstance faithfully illustrates the madness of the fright 
 that possessed the frontier settlers as they fled from the relentless 
 red men — that these fond parents did not miss the little one till 
 they had reached Carver, fifteen miles away. To conclude this 
 item among the dreadful experiences of the settlers along the ex- 
 tended Minnesota frontier, in that bloody August of 1862, 1 add : 
 Probably twenty-five years afterward, while traveling on an over- 
 land train to the coast, I met a gentleman from Minnesota, whose 
 name I do not recall. Among the historical reminiscences of our 
 state which we talked over, was the Sioux massacre. I recalled 
 the incident just related, when he assured me that he had heard 
 of it, and had also heard in connection with it, that the same lit- 
 tle baby was then the happy wife of a prominent citizen of Min- 
 neapolis. I have never had this part of the historical incident 
 verified, however. 
 
 We arrived at Glencoe, without any noteworthy event occur- 
 ring — save that we liberated much stock that was perishing for 
 want of food and water, along our way — about 2 p. m. At this 
 place we found another band of sturdy frontiermen, who had re- 
 solved to fortify themselves and fight it out with the red men, 
 rather than sacrifice their all by flight. This heroic band had 
 chosen my noble old friend, Colonel John H. Stevens, to command 
 them. They were exceedingly rejoiced to see us, as they were 
 greatly overstrained with anxiety to hear what the military au- 
 thorities were doing, looking to the relief of the frontier from the 
 bloody foe who were devastating the country by fire and murder. 
 We rested and fed our horses, and were treated to a substantial 
 and much needed repast for ourselves. After a stay of two hours 
 we were again in the saddle, and at dark reached a little hamlet 
 called Arlington. Here we resolved to spend the night. There 
 was not a soul in or about the place. After stabling, feeding and 
 watering our horses, and posting a guard, we reconnoitered the 
 place thoroughly, and then repaired to the pretty little inn, which 
 occupied a slight knoll. Not a door had been locked ; and to 
 show how precipitately people had fled from their homes, we found 
 in this exquisitely neat little hotel, a meal all perfectly prepared 
 and on the table. It had evidently been an evening meal, as the 
 platter of cold sliced meat, the little glass dish of luscious pre- 
 serves at each plate and the pot of tea at the head of the table 
 
ODD HOURS. 97 
 
 seemed to indicate. In fact, the presiding landlady had just be- 
 gan pouring the tea, and had partly filled one cup, when the mes- 
 senger, with the startling news of the massacre going on had 
 evidently arrived. Everything had been dropped where it was 
 and the whole community had flown on the instant. I would add 
 here, that in all the country that we encircled after leaving Glen- 
 coe, there was not a living person, save one man ; all were gone. 
 We continued to liberate stock, however, and our little troup of 
 scouts had the satisfaction of knowing that they had saved thous- 
 ands of dollars' worth to the settlers against their return after the 
 direful days were past. 
 
 To return to the night spent at Arlington : We partook of 
 the supper so hastily abandoned by the owners, and so good a 
 repast we thought we had never tasted — the pretty dishes, the 
 snow-white cloth, the dainty napkins and excellent food, were a 
 revelation in that little border hamlet. The place, while a public 
 inn, seemed also the home of a refined family — organ, music, ex- 
 cellent books, including a large Bible on the center-table in the 
 pretty little parlor. We fed our horses, and then secured them 
 to the fence near by — saddles and accoutrements all in place — and 
 posting two on guard at a time, the other three laid upon the 
 carpeted floor to secure what rest they might, relieving the guard 
 at suitable intervals. All was quiet until about an hour past mid- 
 night, when the guards came quietly and quickly into the house, 
 roused the sleepers, and in an instant all five were up and armed. 
 The guards said they could, occasionally, distinctly hear sounds 
 away off across the prairie in the direction of the old government 
 road which led from Henderson to Ft. Ridgley. We posted our- 
 selves in a group and at our horses' heads, and promptly outlined 
 our plan of action in case the sounds proved to be the approach 
 of Indians. At the conclusion of our deliberations, and of the 
 scheme we formed, a considerable fog had risen, and rested quite 
 densely and very close to the ground in the low places of the sur- 
 rounding prairie. We planned that when they had come suffici- 
 ently near, we would retreat to the first low ground in the direc- 
 tion of Glencoe, secrete our horses, in the fog, and establish a 
 lookout on a neighboring knoll ; that if they proved to be but a 
 small marauding band, we would ride down upon them, and in a 
 "surprise," make them sorry that they were Indians. If a large 
 
98 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 party, then we would ride with all speed back to Glencoe, and 
 apprise the garrison there, agreeably to a promise we had made 
 them, similar to that made to the settlers who had gathered at 
 Young America — to which latter place one or two of our party 
 would continue their ride. This was the plan fixed upon. 
 
 We now listened in silence. At times we could hear a con- 
 fused noise as of something approaching in the distance, and then 
 the sound would die down again, apparently whenever those who 
 approached would sink into a depression in the landscape. That 
 they were steadily drawing nearer could be heard, however, as 
 every time they came to a rise of ground the sound could be more 
 plainly heard. So it went on for some time, whilst we anxiously 
 awaited the outcome of it all. At last we all felt sure we could 
 hear the rumble of wheels, and soon we were sure of it. This 
 fact allayed our fears considerably as to its being Indians — ^my 
 own fears completely. I assured my companions that my knowl- 
 edge of the Indians was too extensive for me to believe that they 
 ever went on the war-path either in chariots or bullock-carts — 
 not even the lordly Little Crow, the leader and brains of the up- 
 rising, whom I knew well, personally. I surmised, rather, that 
 they were composed of those who had escaped the fiendish attack 
 at the Redwood Agency, had laid in hiding in the great grassy 
 river bottoms, by day, and under cover of the darkness were now 
 seeking to reach the lower settlements, or some town below, where 
 a garrison had been formed. I say I surmised this, and so I did, in 
 the rough ; the facts, a little later, proved to have been exactly as 
 indicated. In a short time, the wagons, as quietly as possible, 
 drove up to the little inn, but upon distinguishing our little party 
 as we cautiously approached them, they were greatly alarmed, 
 and would have fired upon us had we not promptly assured them 
 that we were white friends, and not Indian enemies. Then, their 
 joy was boundless, for indeed they were sadly in need of friends. 
 Most of them were unhurt, but several had been more or less hurt 
 while all were famished with hunger, and weak from exposure 
 and their wounds. The one who was the worst injured had been 
 the chief clerk and interpreter at the Agency, and he was among 
 the first ones attacked. He was a grand type of physical man- 
 hood — one of the finest specimens of the human race we have 
 ever seen, before or since. Notwithstanding he had received into 
 
ODD HOURS. 99 
 
 his body thirty heavy buckshot, he flung the Indians about him 
 into the air, by main strength, sprang through a back window, 
 leaped down the bluff into the river, which he swam, escaping 
 into the cane-grass of the bottoms and sloughs on the opposite 
 side. He had been three or four days— hiding in daytime and at 
 night working his way cautiously toward the old government 
 road in the hope of being picked up, and he had been, as has been 
 seen. These fleeing teams had picked up all these wounded ones 
 along that old highway trail. 
 
 Our little scouting party of five now turned hosts and doc- 
 tors. I, having had quite a bit of experience among the wounded 
 in the army, south, volunteered to dress the wounds of the vic- 
 tims, the Kearneys procured food for them, whilst the noble Mc- 
 Grade kept general supervision and lookout — the well ones feed- 
 ing and refreshing their overworn horses. The wounds of all 
 save the interpreter (whose name has, of late, escaped my mind) , 
 were quickly disposed of. His, however, was beyond my skill, I 
 could only bathe and bandage, but even this made him greatly 
 more comfortable, together with a suitable amount of nourishing 
 food. He was "game," and declared if he recovered all right, 
 the first hard work he would do would be to ride back to border- 
 land again and never leave it more until a red devil for every one 
 of the buckshot in his swollen body had tasted the soil, or he 
 would perish in the attempt. In response to our inquiries he said 
 he thought the massacre would be widespread, and was surprised 
 that the country where we were then was not overrun with them. 
 He said it surely would be within a very few days, and when he 
 was told what our mission was in that region, he insisted that we 
 should not become foolhardy or we were lost. That, from our 
 report, as to how far the troops still were from the seat of the 
 trouble, he felt sure the Indians would have time to sweep along 
 the whole frontier before they could be checked. His judgment 
 was good, as was proven within a very few days after we had 
 passed through the region north of Glencoe and Arlington — the 
 battle at Hutchinson having occurred almost at our heels, and 
 yet we saw no signs of Indians. Probably it was a great streak 
 of luck for us that we did not pass that way a day or two later — 
 or we may never have reported to Sibley, or any one else, in this 
 vale of tears. 
 L.crC. 
 
loo UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 After our fleeing night-visitors had rested and refreshed 
 themselves for an hour or so, they proceeded on their way toward 
 Glencoe, whilst our little squad, between that and day-dawn, pre- 
 pared to go forward. One of the Kearney brothers had hopelessly 
 ruined his pantaloons ; we found the rear window of the single 
 little store of the village but imperfectly fastened, so we entered 
 and supplied the deficiency by a cheap pair, leaving an explana- 
 atory note on the desk. Putting things in order in and about the 
 pretty little hotel, we wrote out an " account of ourselves," leav- 
 ing the same on the table, and after seeing the neat little town 
 all safely locked up, we departed just after full daylight. It had 
 become very foggy, and one could see but a short distance in any 
 direction. As the sun arose, the fog became thinner, and through 
 it, about three miles from our start we dimly descried three horse- 
 men standing on an eminence a quarter of a mile away, evidently 
 watching us. The chances were that they were Indian scouts. 
 As if by a common instinct, we all put spurs to our horses and 
 gave chase — we were all superbly mounted and well armed — in 
 order to ascertain their character, at least. Seeing us "start for 
 them," they turned and disappeared over the knoll from the top of 
 which they had stood watching us. We approached the top very 
 guardedly from two quarters, fearing an ambuscade ; but, upon 
 meeting at the summit, nothing could be seen of them, save one 
 glimpse, after a few minutes, as they passed over the top of a dis- 
 tant ridge. 
 
 We now determined to take in as wide a scope of the endan- 
 gered country as possible that day, and reach Henderson in the 
 evening. All the scattering settlers were gone, and their pioneer 
 homes desolate — all save one man. This man had sent his fam- 
 ily and team away two days before, but he determined to stand 
 by his humble home and his few head of stock to the last. The 
 remainder of this "Incident of 'Sixty-two" is soon told. We 
 arrived at Henderson that night, both our beasts and their riders 
 well "done up." From here, McGrade pushed on in the track 
 of the expedition and reported to General Sibley, while the other 
 four returned down the valley to Shakopee. Many minor inci- 
 dents of this scouting tour, though of considerable interest, are 
 omitted. The most interesting and valuable result of the whole 
 — and I am sure my readers will agree with me — was the saving 
 of the precious life of my sweet little " Mudhole Angel." 
 
Indian-trail Echoes. 
 
 Note — Incidents that, in the early times on the Minnesota fron- 
 tier, would occasion no especial remark, become, in some 
 cases, "mighty interestin' readin' " after time and change 
 have cast about them the softening shadows of a semi- 
 romance. The incidents following, were "little affairs of 
 my own," encountered, for the most part, during the 
 early days of flatboating, steamboating and rafting tim- 
 ber on the Minnesota River, in which river enterprises 
 my three brothers — Captains Aaron, Edward and Samuel 
 — were (with " Uncle Jo. Brown") the real pioneers. I, 
 being "my boy Lightfoot," was, rightfully, the errand- 
 boy, courier and trail-runner for the business, whenever 
 any land-commissions were to be carried into execution. 
 At other times, (by reason of my " tender years") I was 
 the flatboat or raft cook, the steamboat steward, or clerk, 
 or the cub-pilot — the latter, or else galloping up and down 
 the trails of the valley (anywhere between Shakopee and 
 Yellow Medicine Indian Agency) being most to my taste. 
 With this notation, my kind reader will understand the 
 * ' lay of the land ' ' in the incidents that follow. 
 
 A HAIR-RAISER. 
 
 On the trail, between Henderson and Belle Plain, along down 
 the valley — this river-valley trail had been the principal trail-high- 
 way of the Indians from time immemorial — there were two trees 
 that had fallen across the path. They were at a point about forty 
 rods above the present village of Blakely. The body of one tree 
 laid about three feet above the ground, and the other and smaller 
 tree-body directly over and a couple of feet above the larger one, 
 the bark being worn smooth by the Indians, and others, climbing 
 up and sliding over it. It became one of my " all alone " athletic 
 habits, when passing up or down the trail — more particularly go- 
 
I02 ODD HOURS. 
 
 ing down, as the logs lay better from that side — to take a big run 
 and jump over this obstruction. On one of my trips down, just 
 as it was growing slightly dusk, I made my run, and when just 
 at the right spot to leap, and come down close on the other side, 
 I gave a tremendous spring into the air, cleared the upper log by 
 several inches, and came down on the other side right on top of 
 monster lynx. Of all the frightened squalls ever emitted from 
 the throat of any member of the genus felina, I imagine the one 
 uttered by this particular specimen stood at the head, as I came 
 down upon him "all of a bunch." The only reason that the un- 
 earthly squall I gave, at about the same time he squalled, was 
 not louder than his, was because "squalling" was more in his line 
 than in mine. As he yelled, he gave a spring into the brush at 
 one side, and as I yelled, I gave a spring down the trail — either 
 one of which would have carried us over a log eight feet high. I 
 took instant measures to place as great a distance as possible be- 
 tween us, before he got over his scare. I supposed that he must 
 have been asleep — refreshing his energies preparatory to his cus- 
 tomary nocturnal hunt for food. And I, having moccasins on my 
 feet, and being a very light stepper, anyway, he never heard me 
 until I sat down upon him — probably he thought I came down 
 from the clouds ; and, being a shower of so unusual a kind, he 
 felt it no disgrace for even a lynx to become badly frightened, at 
 least for the nonce. I am sure that my scare was more durable 
 than his, because mine lasted me for fully five miles, which dis- 
 tance I covered, next following, on a royal schedule. Thereafter 
 when passing that way, instead of jumping that particular log, 
 I would slip stealthily up and peek over, to see if the coast was 
 clear before even sliding over it. I did not know but what that 
 might be one of his regular sleeping places, and that he might 
 get used to' boys and conclude to sample the next one he caught 
 coming along that way. 
 
 AN UNI.UCKY PAIR. 
 In those days the bitter hostility that had existed for gener- 
 ations between the Sioux and Chippewa nations still existed, and 
 was still at a furnace heat. War parties, large or small, were fre- 
 quently passing back and forth across the " neutral grounds," 
 and surprising some village of the enemy, dealing death right and 
 left and securing as many scalps as possible and then retreating, 
 
ODD HOURS. 103 
 
 ere a general alarm could be given. Often, however, very large 
 war parties would be fitted out, by both nations— whenever the 
 war spirit happened to be running high in either — and they made 
 raids on a large scale, resulting in battles of no small proportions. 
 Commonly, though, hostilities were carried on by small parties, 
 or even by a couple of individuals. A couple of young warriors, 
 or would-be warriors, would get to itching for the right to wear an 
 eagle's feather in his scalp-lock — which he was not privileged to 
 wear until he could dangle a legitimate scalp from his belt — and 
 so, two or three would venture across the neutral country, lay in 
 wait near a village of the enemy — unless they chanced to come 
 across a lone lodge — when they would kill and scalp a- squaw or a 
 child or two, possibly including a lone Indian, when they would 
 " slide back " to their own country before discovery or successful 
 pursuit. Both tribes were about equally successful, so far as we 
 white settlers could judge. The settlers in the Minnesota valley, 
 if they really cared, were sympathizers with the Sioux, because 
 they lived surrounded by the Sioux — in the Sioux country. Both 
 tri bes, in those days, were composed of the finest types of the 
 North American Indian to be found on the continent, with possi- 
 bly one or two exceptions — each being worthy foes to the other's 
 steel. One particular item of pride, common to both nations, I 
 found out by a close observation : they prided themselves on their 
 ability to discover the presence of their hated enemy in their im- 
 mediate neighborhood. This keen intuition, or savage science, 
 had been, apparently, cultivated through countless past genera- 
 tions, until it had become a positive instinct ; examples of this 
 wonderful power of observation and detection I had seen and 
 known of, myself. 
 
 I was on my way down the trail one day, when I saw ap- 
 proaching, two fine, tall Indians. As they came near, I thought 
 I detected, in their general appearance and gait, that they were 
 not Sioux. Still, thought I, what could two Chippewas (if Chip- 
 pewas they be) mean by getting themselves into such a dangerous 
 neighborhood in broad daylight? There was a Sioux village not 
 two miles below. At that time I had seen but few Chippewas ; 
 but, judging from those I had met, I formed the impression that 
 the only distinguishing features between the two tribes were : — 
 The Chippewas were slightly darker-skinned, with smaller feat- 
 
I04 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ures, and while their average height was about equal to that of 
 the Sioux, they were of a slighter build. These distinctive pecu- 
 liarities, I afterward found, held good. When I met these two 
 Indians, face to face, I was sure they were Chippewas. They 
 declined to let me pass them, and I began to feel as if they had de- 
 termined that, fearing they might not get a Sioux scalp to take 
 home with them, they had better have even a white boy's scalp 
 than to go back empty handed — I began to feel very white ^ too, 
 at the thought of such a possibility. I did not realize (because, 
 at that moment, I did not know it, of course,) that in less than 
 three hours from that time, the two beautifully -bedecked and ver- 
 million-stained Chippewa scalps before me (taken from their heads 
 clear down to, and including, their ears) would both be reeking- 
 red at the belts of two Sioux braves. 
 
 As I said, they stopped me as I was about to step by them 
 in the narrow trail — one of them catching me by the shoulder and 
 whirling me around, with a scowl on his face. He then spoke to 
 me in Chippewa, as I supposed, which, of course, I could not un- 
 derstand. Seeing this, he addressed me in tolerably good Sioux, 
 which I could understand somewhat. They asked me if there 
 were any Sioux around that region. I said there were, plenty of 
 them — a big village below and another not far up the river. They 
 then asked if , as I made out, there were no isolated lodges near- 
 by, and I said, " Not any," in Sioux. I asked them where they 
 had crossed the river and come onto that big trail. They 
 said they found a canoe in the bend just a short distance below 
 and crossed to this side. After a few more questions and answers, 
 they told me, with another scowl, to keep my mouth shut, and I 
 said, ' ' Oh, of course ! " or words to that effect. They then turned 
 abruptly from the trail, toward the river, and I continued on my 
 way down the valley. 
 
 I had not proceeded more than a mile or so, when I saw two 
 big Sioux braves coming up the trail on a trot. When we met,, 
 they asked if I had met two strange Indians, and I told them I 
 had — I forgot to keep my mouth shut, and it would not have 
 been healthy for me if I had, with these big fellows. I told them 
 just where I last saw them, and which direction they had gone. 
 But, how they had found out so quickly that the two Chippewas 
 were in the neighborhood, I do not know to this day. They fol- 
 lowed their track from where they had left the trail, found them 
 asleep in the tall grass near the river, and that — settled it. 
 
ODD HOURS. 105 
 
 RATHER A TIRESOME DAY. 
 
 It was my first season's boating ; we came up with the steam- 
 boat from St. Paul, as far as the Rapids, and there, owing to the 
 low stage of water, all the freight from the steamer had to be 
 transferred to several flatboats above the rocky chain, and by them 
 to be carried on to points on the upper river. For some reason 
 which I do not now remember, it was desirable that a messenger 
 be sent up river by land, in advance of the barges, and this task 
 fell to myself, of course, as I made a good foot-courier, but rather 
 an indifferent lugger of heavy freight around the rapids. It was 
 early of a June morning when I struck back into the valley, hav- 
 ing been told that by going straight south a mile or two I could 
 strike the old government road. Following along the different 
 little animal paths leading back from the river, I came to a wild 
 meadow, as I supposed, stretching quite a distance to the right 
 and left. I will digress for a moment and explain : When this 
 country was "new," the surface, generally, presented a very dif- 
 ferent aspect in many respects to what it presents now. One of 
 these was the greater amount of water, both in the lakes and the 
 streams, and also in the infinitely greater number of small lakes 
 and ponds as well as swamps and "quaking grass plats." This 
 latter is what I had now encountered. As I afterward found out, 
 these odd freaks of Nature were to be found " all over," but be- 
 ing new to the country then, this was my first experience with 
 one of them. I dare say there is not one small one to be found 
 now where then there were a hundred extensive ones. They have 
 long since dried up, leaving the sod resting on a firm foundation, 
 instead of its being simply a blanket, covering a pond or lake of 
 clear water a foot or so below the surface. Upon reaching this 
 pretty-looking short-grass meadow, I kept directly on my course, 
 following the little trails mostly made by muskrats as I learned 
 in later days. The footing seemed very unstable, and ere long I 
 began to sink at every step, half way to my knees. Becoming 
 terribly frightened, I stopped, but that would not do — I must 
 keep on striding ahead, otherwise I would go through, and out 
 of sight forever. I finally reached a small spot that was a trifle 
 more firm, and, half reclining on hands and knees for a moment, 
 I looked about in an agony of despair. I could tell that it was 
 
io6 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 not even soft mud underneath the thin blanket of turf, but a lake 
 of clear water. At each violent movement, the sod would undu- 
 late into waves in all directions just as water does when a heavy- 
 weight is thrown into it. After a moment, I saw that to continue 
 on would be as well as to attempt to return ; and, with a prayer 
 on my dry lips, I started forward. What with my terrible fright 
 and the struggle it required to draw each leg in turn, up so far 
 in order to clear the top of the sod, I became exhausted to the 
 last degree ; but to stop meant a hopeless position very quickly. 
 It was a fight for life, and it was only desperation that nerved 
 my young limbs to the continued effort to keep from sinking out 
 of sight into the lake below the thin sod. In the quick flashes of 
 thought it once occurred to me to throw myself prostrate and en- 
 deavor to crawl ; but it was fortunate I did not try that plan, as it 
 would have deprived me of all my springy, buoyant powers. At 
 last I felt the sod growing slightly firmer, as I gradually drew 
 nearer the further side, and finally pulled myself to firm ground, 
 nearer dead than alive. Had it been an open lake, I could have 
 crossed it with ease, as I was perfecty at home in open water. 
 
 If ever there was a thankful juvenile, I was that one, as I 
 lay almost gasping for breath for a long time. Finally, I resumed 
 my course, and after a time came into the government road — 
 little more than a big trail — a short distance below where it 
 crossed Sand Creek, where it wound around the foot of Sand 
 Prairie — three or four miles down the creek from the present vil- 
 lage of Jordan. The road crossed here, and then mounted the 
 lower end of the high sandy ridge, which it followed the whole 
 length of the prairie, with the river valley down below, on one 
 side, and the creek valley on the other — the high backbone of the 
 prairie being a bed of sand, covered over with \allainous sand- 
 burs. 
 
 Upon arriving at the creek, what was my dismay at finding 
 it a raging torrent, out over its banks. Here, then, was another 
 dangerous barrier to be crossed — ^but could it be crossed? I sat 
 down in the sand to rest, and to figure on a plan, and also upon 
 the chances of being swept under the piles of driftwood before I 
 could reach the other shore. Meantime, I munched a hard bis- 
 cuit and a bit of salt pork I had brought along in my pocket, I 
 was a good swimmer, but had never attempted an angry flood 
 
ODD HOURS. 107 
 
 like the one before me. It was but three or four rods wide, but 
 the thing to be overcome here was not width, but a heaving and 
 murky flood. The day had well advanced, ere my mind was made 
 up to attempt the crossing. I selected a good starting point, 
 chosen with a view to an easy landing place on the other side. I 
 figured on being swept down stream a goodly distance, in any 
 case, and endeavored to fix my starting point accordingly. After 
 divesting myself of outer clothing and shoes, I did them up into 
 a secure wad, took them firmly into my teeth, and cautiously ad- 
 vanced into the stream until the under-current savagely snatched 
 me from my feet. I entered the water fully determined, come 
 what might, not to give way to a panic of fright, and I think 
 that timely resolve is what proved "the saving clause." It soon 
 became evident that I had not allowed enough for the power of 
 the current, liberal as I was, and that I was bound to be swept 
 past my chosen landing place. When this was made certain, my 
 fright bordered closely upon panic ; because, not very far below 
 was a monster drift-pile, and unless I succeeded in reaching shore 
 above it, nothing could save me. I conquered my almost panic, 
 and lunged ahead with the last nerve in my body strained to the 
 snapping point. As I flew past the proposed landing-place, yet 
 several strokes from shore, I almost gave myself up for lost, as 
 the terrible exertion had taken my breath away, all save convul- 
 sive gasps. I involuntarily turned my eyes toward the fatal 
 drift-pile, and in doing so beheld a white birch tree standing close 
 to the edge of the flood, its weeping limbs hanging close to the 
 surface of the water. A last frantic pull, and I floated in among 
 its friendly arms and was saved from the very jaws of death. 
 
 I was so far overwrought, that it was a long time ere I could 
 draw myself out upon the bank, which was quite steep on that 
 side of the stream. At last, however, I was out and dressed, and 
 again under way — though pretty well used up, by reason of the 
 two trying ordeals through which I had passed since morning. As 
 I walked slowly up toward the great hog-back of sand, I discovered 
 that the sun was getting low in the west, and I yet had several 
 miles to go before reaching the first house — a rude stopping-place 
 called Waters' Place. Looking down into the little wooded val- 
 ley of Sand Creek on my left I could see the place where Mrs. 
 Schroder had been killed by an Indian a year or so before. She 
 
io8 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 and her husband, Jacob Schroder (whom I knew well in after 
 years in Shakopee) were passing up the little valley with a team, 
 when the Indian shot at Mr. Schroder from behind a tree ; his 
 aim was bad, for an Indian, and instead of killing Mr. Schroder, 
 the shot killed his wife. These were the facts as told to me ; the 
 Indian was caught, tried, and hung in St. Paul, and was the first 
 Indian regularly executed in the Territory — though there were 
 thirty -eight of his fellow redskins hung on one big gallows later, 
 at Mankato, for their unspeakable atrocities in the massacre of 
 '62, wherein six hundred defenceless men, women and children 
 along Minnesota's frontier were put to the tomahawk and scalp- 
 ing-knife, and worse fates than simple death. [Note — A corres- 
 pondent in the Pioneer Press, I notice, says the woman's name 
 who was killed, was Keatnor. During my acquaintance with 
 Schroder I did not know her name, but after I had left Shakopee 
 I was told, much to my surprise, that it was Jacob Schroder's 
 wife who was the victim. I tell it, therefore, including the spot 
 where the tragedy occurred, as 'twas told to me, in those years 
 long gone.] But I digress. 
 
 When I had nearly reached the oak-bush barrens at the up- 
 per end of Sand Prairie (the sun having set, and early twilight 
 was gathering), I heard something behind me. I^ooking about 
 quickly, I saw a big gray wolf trotting along after me, a few 
 rods distant. I stopped, and he stopped — both eyeing each other. 
 When I moved on he would follow. Presently another, and still 
 another came up from the lowlands into the road, and they grew 
 bolder. I had a premonition that my only safety lay in not run- 
 ning or showing fear, at least until I could make a start unob- 
 served by them, which I could not do until the bushland was 
 reached, which would be very soon ; all my energies of self-con- 
 trol were brought to bear not to arouse their suspicion or make a 
 motion that would excite them until I could, for an instant, get 
 a bush screen between us. As, with a careless air(that I was a 
 thousand miles from feeling) I entered the bushes, their number 
 had increased to five ; and, although they had steadily drawn 
 nearer, they as yet seemed to be viewing me more with curiosity 
 than with any other feeling. Just as the road entered the bushes 
 it made an abrupt turn to the right. This was my first and last 
 chance ; and, probably before they realized that their quarry had 
 
ODD HOURS. 109 
 
 flown, I had made half the remaining distance to Walters' place 
 Though very tired and weak when the wolves came upon me, my 
 vQxy last physical resources were drawn upon in that half-mile 
 flight, and I fell, rather than walked, into that frontier hostelry. 
 That night, as I lay on the rude couch assigned me, I voted unan- 
 imously that it had been "Rather a tiresome day." 
 
 AN INDIAN'S IDEA OF GRATITUDE. 
 I DID not personally know Little Dog, as it seems he trans- 
 ferred himself to the far-away prairie division of the Sioux the 
 year before my arrival on the frontier — but my brothers told me 
 much about him. He was famous in his nation ; not for his skill 
 in the chase, or his prowess in war, but for his " silver tongue " 
 at the council-fire — his eloquence and wisdom. He was always 
 in demand wherever grave councils were being held. In stature 
 he was much below the average height of his tribesmen, but com- 
 pactly built, with a pleasant face and a fine head. He dressed 
 elegantly, and was neat and cleanly to a fault. Before his final 
 departure for the western section of his nation, it was a delight 
 to him when my brothers would invite him to take a trip with 
 them on their steamboat or barge ; he would be as delighted as a 
 child at the prospect of going a journey down and up on the great 
 "fire-canoe," or the big "push-canoe." He would sometimes 
 remain with my brothers a week or two at a time, and became 
 greatly attached to them — as, indeed, they did to him. They 
 found him an interesting study, and from him learned much of 
 the true-inwardness of that nation's wonderful character that but 
 few others possessed at that early time. They had heard lyittle 
 Dog's eloquence upon one occasion, and they agreed that it was 
 little to be wondered at that he could sway his fellow-children of 
 the forest at will. While his language was, of necessity, simple, 
 and almost child-like, his voice, his gestures, his pleasing expres- 
 sion of countenance, and above all, his apt and poetical illustra- 
 tions, made him a wonderful orator. His comparative illustra- 
 tions, all drawn from the Nature that environed their lives — the 
 trees, the flowers, the birds, the blue skies and the stars — were 
 beautiful conceptions, that had he been other than a wild savage, 
 or had he been educated in the lore of the pale-faces, he would 
 have been a peer among our grandest orators. He it was who, 
 
no UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 with a delegation of Sioux, visited the Great Father at Washing- 
 ington, once upon a time, and when he returned, told his people 
 to cease their idle talk about killing off all the pale-faces, and get- 
 ting back their lands ; that it would be as easy to kill all the mo- 
 squitoes in Dakotah-land as to kill all the whites; they were as 
 the leaves on the trees, or the blades of grass on the plains. 
 
 I started out, however, to give an Indian's notion of grat- 
 itude, as exemplified by Little Dog. As before stated, he was 
 greatly attached to my three elder brothers, as he had ample rea- 
 son to be — he entertained a brotherly love for them, as he often 
 assured them, and he was honest about it, too, from an Indian's 
 standpoint. One day, my brothers asked him, flatly, if in case 
 the Indians should ever raise against the whites, would he be so 
 cruel and ungrateful as to kill them if he had the opportunity. 
 They told him they wanted nothing but a straightforward, honest 
 answer ; that whatever his answer, if it was an honest one, they 
 would treat him with the same kindness and confidence as in the 
 past. lyittle Dog's face was a study, as he gazed into theirs; a 
 sort of sadness rested upon his features, and a troubled expression 
 agitated his changing countenance. He finally asked them to 
 give him a little time for thought. This being acceded to, he 
 withdrew a short distance and sat down. He became buried in 
 meditation for some time. At last he came to them and, with a 
 glow of relief radiating from his countenance, said: "No! I 
 never could kill my three good white brothers — never ! I would 
 get some other Indians to do it for me." Then he looked pained 
 when they laughed till their sides ached. 
 
 A LITTLE "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE." 
 On one occasion, as I was on my way dowTi the river-trail, 
 I dropped into an Indian village, a few rods above the present 
 river-village of Faxon. I frequently did this, when hungry'', and 
 would get a bite to eat — anj^thing, from a bit of venison (possibly 
 dog) to a dish of wild rice, or unmentionable soup, which I was 
 always made welcome to, as all knew me well, as " The Younger 
 Brother," I was seated by the small outside campfire, engaged 
 in munching the meat off a bone taken from a soup-kettle and 
 handed me by an old squaw who was better hearted than she was 
 featured, when there was an arrival. A sub-chief, named Blue 
 
ODD HOURS. Ill 
 
 Blanket, suddenly stepped up to the opposite side of the fire com- 
 ing from somewhere, I know not where. I had seen him several 
 times before, but hardly supposed that he knew exactly who I 
 was — for, big Indians, like big white men, seldom take any par- 
 ticular notice of boys. Blue Blanket was a very tall fellow, and 
 rather slim for a Sioux. Although a subordinate chief of consid- 
 erable note, he indulged in no gaudy ornaments of dress, as did 
 most of the chiefs and principal men of the tribe. Aside from 
 his very dark -blue blanket, he only wore a shirt, breech-clout, leg- 
 gings and moccasins. His face was always painted black when 
 I knew him, probably in mourning for some relative who had 
 been slain by the Chippewas. Saluting me by the usual "How ! " 
 which I returned, he looked down at me in silence as I still sat 
 gnawing away at my bone, not taking time to look up at him, 
 farther than by a casual glance. Pretty soon, he gave a grunt, 
 and asked me what I was doing in his camp, anyway. I held up 
 the bone in explanation. He grunted again, and then said 
 he was my enemy, and that I was " seecha-do ! " — a bad speci- 
 men, even for a pale-face, I presume he meant to convey. At 
 this I arose to my feet, affecting a careless coolness which I was 
 very far from feeling, because I now discovered that he was drunk 
 almost to the staggering point. He was of a surly, quarrelsome 
 temperament, but I at once saw that the whisky had made him 
 inclined to talk, and boast. I told him I was not his enemy; that 
 I thought him " Wash-ta-do," — good. He said he didn't care a 
 continental what I thought, or didn't think — or words to that 
 effect — and that he would soon prove to me that he was my ene- 
 my, anyway. I asked how I could be his enemy, because I had 
 scarcely known him. He said my brother, when he saw him a 
 few days before, had insulted him, and now he proposed to play 
 even, by killing me. I asked him which of the brothers it was 
 who had insulted him, and he replied that it was " Wa-zhee- 
 dah " — my brother, Capt. Sam. I told him he was mistaken, for 
 my brothers never insulted anybody — they weren't that kind of 
 men. I furthermore told him that if he touched me, my broth- 
 ers wouldn't leave two bones together in his body ; that he knew 
 what my brother " Chah-hoh-mi-na " had done to five Indians, 
 alone, not long before ; that I was going down the trail to the 
 home of " Motto-chak-seek-sa," my eldest brother, and that he 
 
112 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 had better not follow me, or he would get into trouble in that di- 
 rection, and he ought to know it — and he would have realized the 
 truth of all I told him, and more too, had he been sober ; for, all 
 my brothers were powerful men, and feared nothing in particular. 
 The Indians had received several well-merited lessons at their 
 hands, and they entertained a very wholesome respect for all 
 three of them ; and they well knew if they touched one of us, 
 they had all four to deal with as the result — though I did not 
 stand for much, save lots of good-will, and to make up the fourth 
 brother. After telling him the substance of the foregoing in the 
 best Sioux I could command — in the hope of appeasing his imag- 
 inary drunken spleen — I found that parleying only made his an- 
 ger with me the more real, and I only watched my opportunity 
 to get two or three jumps the start of him. The frenzy of his 
 imaginary, drunken wrath soon culminated in his jerking out his 
 knife (his ' ' esaw-tonka ' ' ) and leaping toward me — but I wasn' t 
 there, I started down the trail, as may well be imagined, at my 
 very finest pace, my hair feeling very erect as I could hear him fol- 
 lowing, a very "close second," as I believe the racing men call it. 
 Allow me to digress for a moment : Somewhere, I promised 
 to say something about my running qualities, ' 'and why." During 
 my few years of boyhood, and briefer school-days back in the old 
 Pennsylvania home, our favorite sport was running foot-races on 
 a level piece of road (near the school-house) from Uncle Archej' 
 Henderson's home to the Simcox Tavern, just half a mile, and 
 then back again. As I often thought in years afterward, all this 
 must have been in the providential plan ; for, certain it was, that 
 my well-trained legs and my systematic ability to get the very 
 best out of them, and out of my lungs for endurance, stood me in 
 good stead in many an after trial on a wild frontier then undreamed 
 of. My legs were shorter than almost any boy's in school, but at 
 the close of the several summers' series, long-legged Bob Mitchell 
 was the only boy who could reach the goal with me. This early 
 practice, necessarily supplemented with no end of " leg- work " on 
 the frontier, gave me a maximum speed, when under any especial 
 stress, that, even to myself, now, seems almost unbelievable. It 
 was not only the almost flying speed I could make — in my loose 
 flannel shirt without coat or vest, and my feet encased in thin In- 
 dian moccasins — but the endurance I was capable of. I do not 
 
ODD HOURS. "3 
 
 remember to have ever become completely breath -beaten but once, 
 and that was when trying to overtake a wounded deer before it 
 reached the river— which I did not do. Conscious of my speed 
 and endurance, it gave confidence in almost any circumstances. 
 But now, with a tall, slim, long-legged Indian on my track, I felt 
 that the test of my life, and for my life, had arrived. I hoped 
 that his intoxication would prove in my favor, but soon discov- 
 ered that it hindered him little, if any. But, there was another 
 circumstance — or three or four of them — which did ' ' help out 
 my side, mightily. The trail on that side of the river, at that 
 point, ran down through a three-mile meadow of very high grass, 
 with here and there a giant maple or cotton wood tree. Crossing 
 the trail there were three or four dry gulleys, which were hidden 
 almost entirely by the tall grass. I knew the exact location of 
 every one of them. My pursuer either did not know of them, or 
 else, in his drunken rage, he didn't care where they were. As I 
 approached each in its turn, I gathered every muscle for duty, 
 and b}' a giant spring cleared them nicely, while Blue Blanket went 
 into them, heels-over-head. This, each time it was repeated, gave 
 me a very nice little gain, and the gain was badly needed, as that 
 long knife came very close to my little red shirt at each of the 
 washouts. Had he happened to have had his tomahawk with 
 him, he would have had me early in the race. After passing the 
 last washout ditch, the trail soon turned abruptly toward the 
 river bank, and, when coming close to it, at the edge of a high 
 and almost perpendicular bank, it turned sharply to the left and 
 followed dowTi the shore. I made up my mind that if, upon ar- 
 riving at this high bank, he was close to me, I would make the 
 leap — as it could not be worse. My pursuer, I think, never for 
 a moment dreamed of my playing him such a trick, and thought 
 when we came to the sharp turn, he would have me. We came 
 up to the brink of the high bank in splendid form, and before 
 reaching the edge I pulled myself well together, and just as he 
 was reaching out for my flying hair, I gave a bound into the air 
 and came down far out in the river, and " sank beneath the tide." 
 Upon coming to the surface, I simply lay quietly on my back and 
 floated with the current until sufficiently recovered to gain the 
 other shore. I got one glimpse of the disappointed chief as he 
 withdrew from the edge of the high bank above, with a flourish 
 
114 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 of his big knife. Neither myself nor brothers ever saw chief Blue 
 Blanket again. When he became fully sober, he undoubtedly 
 remembered my warning words, and left that region to become a 
 member of some distant branch of the tribe. 
 
 A "BRUSH" WITH THE RED -MEN. 
 In the foregoing, I dimly hinted at a "little discussion " one 
 of my brothers had, once upon a time, with five stalwart Sioux 
 braves, an explanation of which may prove interesting. One of 
 the ' ' first families ' ' to come up the river on our boats landed at 
 the just budding town of Henderson. The family consisted of 
 the old gentleman and wife, his son and his wife, and two pretty 
 daughters — one of eighteen and the other younger. The old gen- 
 tleman and his son took up claims, and hewed out for themselves 
 homes, back from the valley six or seven miles, just where, at 
 that point, the Big Woods ended, and the great prairie-region be- 
 gan. They were a most excellent family, and my second-eldest 
 brother, Capt. Ed., (Chah-hoh-mina) used to go out there fre- 
 quently to see the old gentleman ! The latter, and his eldest daugh- 
 ter, came in one winter's day on a sled to do a little trading. The 
 old government road led out to, and passed, within a mile of their 
 pioneer home. They did not start home until late, but as there 
 was bright moonlight it was immaterial. My brother determined 
 to accompany them home. There was a large encampment of 
 Indians at the top of the long hill back of the village, and I pre- 
 sume he thought he ought to go along to ' ' protect the old gen- 
 tleman," and it proved lucky enough that he did so. Up to that 
 time, the Indians, although they had a very sincere respect for 
 the seeming prowess and undemonstrative daring of my three 
 brothers, they had never seen it actually put to the test. When 
 the sled and its three occupants had reached the foot of the hill, 
 they overtook half a dozen or more Indians on their way to their 
 camp; they proved to be just intoxicated enough to be in an ugly 
 mood. They were not armed, to speak of, only having been 
 hunting whisky, that day, down in the white man's village. 
 They were " tired " enough, however, to want to ride up the hill, 
 and drunk enough to be insulting. They began to climb into the 
 sled-box, and also to say bad things about the "pretty young 
 white squaw ' ' in the sled — ^which neither she nor her father could 
 
ODD HOURS. 115 
 
 understand, but which was perfectly understood by Capt. Ed. 
 Of course the team could scarcely draw their legitimate load up 
 the steep hill, much less the addition of six or eight hulking In- 
 dians. The sled was stopped, the situation was explained to 
 them, and they were invited to get out, and "be quick about it." 
 They only jeered at the idea, and only snuggled themselves into 
 the sled the more securely, and offensively close about the 5^oung 
 lady who grew greatly alarmed, but had too much spirit to show 
 the brutes her fear. My brother slipped off his overcoat, which 
 he handed to the old gentleman, telling him that as soon as he 
 discovered his sled to be clear of Indians, to drive with all con- 
 venient speed to the top of the hill, and there await his coming. 
 They both began to protest against the idea of leaving him, but 
 he begged that they do exactly as he asked them to do, and not 
 to worry about him, and so they did. A few years after this I 
 witnessed, myself, what was possible to this human cyclone, when 
 he, in the cause of justice, let himself loose among a lot of fellows 
 who had jumped a poor man's pre-emption claim. I never wit- 
 nessed such a sight, before or since. Though neither quite so 
 tall or heavily built as the other two, he was straight as an arrow, 
 powerful shoulders, deep of breast, and his whole make-up of sin- 
 ews and muscle seemed like tempered steel ; and with these was 
 coupled a quickness of motion, when required, that could be well 
 compared with that of chain-lightning, and his step, for springy 
 lightness, was marvelous — this latter is what gave him his Indian 
 name. Upon the occasion herein related, he knew just what he 
 could do with the Indian outfit in that sled — but they didn't, till 
 a few minutes later. In a fisticuff, wild Indians, from a white 
 man's standpoint, are very awkward and, comparatively, ineffec- 
 tive. He asked them again if they would all get out of the sled, 
 or should he help them out. They said he hadn't better try help- 
 ing them out, and stuck out their tongues toward him in derision. 
 History does not record how far they got their tongues back in 
 their mouths again, by any voluntary action of their own. Even 
 they themselves probably never knew. A simoon fell upon them, 
 and almost simultaneously something like a whirlwind seemed to 
 fling them into the air in all directions, the driver whipped up 
 the team, nor stopped until the hill-top was reached, and he and 
 his daughter were out of harm's way. Capt. Ed's temper (and 
 
ii6 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 he had one which was in full proportion to his strength and other 
 physical resources) was up, and he did not " come to himself ' ^ 
 again until that particular gang of "biginjuns" afforded him 
 nothing further upon which to feed his indignant wrath. But 
 this little ' ' overture ' ^ was but the prelude to the main act that 
 was to follow on the next evening as he was returning from his 
 visit to the home of his old friend. When within a mile of the 
 village, he was suddenly confronted by five stalwarts from among 
 the stalwarts. They were armed with knives, and informed him 
 they had been awaiting his coming. They further cheered him 
 by saying that to pay him off for having nearly killed several of 
 their friends the night before, they purposed slicing him into 
 very small pieces. To almost any one the outlook would have 
 looked very dark, to say the least of it. The Captain, however, 
 was far from despairing, though the odds did seem rather badly 
 one-sided ; yet, he congratulated himself that they had chosen 
 knives to use on him instead of tomahawks, war-clubs or guns. 
 His first impression was to snatch off his thick overcoat, so that 
 he might have freer use of his arms. Then he thought it might 
 more than compensate by forming a partial protection from the 
 knives ; that his salvation lay in his superior quickness of move- 
 ment, and that if he could so engage them as to get in one of his 
 persuading blows on the right spot, and ward off and dodge their 
 knives until he could do so, he would stand a show to come off 
 victor in spite of the rather gloomy prospect. Two of them lost 
 no time in seeking revenge for their disabled friends of the night 
 previous, but rushed upon him most recklessly. As before stated, 
 big as they were, they were children, when it came to protecting 
 their faces or bodies from the manly science of the white man. 
 They apparently' never dreamed there was any way a man could 
 protect himself, who wasn't armed in some manner, and as their 
 intended victim was utterly without arms, all they had to do was 
 to rush upon him, with an impressive Indian flourish and para- 
 lyzing whoop, and carve him in true red-man style. Capt. Ed. 
 was instantly well prepared for action, and as he told me two 
 years later when I joined him, he never had felt before how very 
 nearly he could make himself into a coiled spring, and a human 
 catapult as when thus waylaid by these cowardly dogs. In his 
 indignant wrath, a real joy suddenly seized him, when he realized 
 
ODD HOURS. 117 
 
 that he had met the trial of a lifetime, and a trial for his life. He 
 easil}' warded off the knife of the big fellow who first reached 
 him, and by one of his best lightning acts, had just time to de- 
 liver a straight crushing blow on the fellow's neck and jaw, ere 
 the second was upon him. The remaining three seemed in no 
 hurry, at first, but would see the easy fun the first two would 
 enjoy, and they could have their innings a little later. But when, 
 almost in a twinkling, they saw their two champions writhing in 
 the snow, their knives dropped, and both hands holding their 
 jaws awry and their almost broken necks, and nothing more than 
 a big slit cut in the white man's coat-sleeve, their amazement was 
 a picture to look upon. Evidently, for a few minutes they were 
 superstitiously impressed at all that occurred, as it were, in the 
 twinkling of an eye. My brother knew what was in their minds 
 and, as he picked up the two knives and sent them as far as he 
 could throw them into the thick brush, he told them they were 
 cowards, and worse still, they were squaws. This latter epithet, 
 as he knew, was a mortal insult to an Indian brave, that nothing 
 but blood, and lots of it, could wipe out. He knew he had noth- 
 ing further to fear from the first two. The three now made a 
 grand and noisy advance, and as they came upon him almost too 
 compactly, my brother took to some very active maneuvering in 
 order to get them somewhat separated, and they at last, thinking 
 his movements meant a growing fear, fell nicely into his trap. 
 It was now his turn to do a little rushing, which he did ; he was 
 only enabled to reach one of them, instead of two as he had plan- 
 ned to do on this rush, as he slipped on a treacherous bit of ice 
 just at the critical instant — and then occurred a momentary mix- 
 up that might have proven his undoing, had he not been thor- 
 oughly strung up for the occasion. At last he shook himself clear 
 of them, having received no severe cuts, save slashes in his over- 
 coat. The one he had partially stunned, was still in the fight, 
 though somewhat " groggy," as the prize-fighters say. He again 
 got them separated somewhat, and, making sure of his footing, 
 he leaped for them like a panther, and before they had time to 
 draw a breath for defense in any form, two of them had gone to 
 earth under the influence of something that would have reminded 
 them of a pile-driver, had they known what a pile-driver was. 
 One was doubled up like a jack-knife, in mortal agony, as if his 
 
1 18 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 upper, or else his lower sub-stomach had made issue with a mule's 
 heels, whilst the other was holding his jaw with both hands, like 
 the first two, and sort of gurgling. These four had evidently be- 
 come satisfied that the white man's war-medicine was an awfully 
 bad sort of medicine. The fifth one was also like-minded, as he 
 found himself, in a flash, not only disarmed, but his arm frac- 
 tured, and himself picked bodily off his feet, lifted high in the 
 air and crashed down upon the frozen ground in a way that made 
 him a "good Indian," for at least a time afterward. This ended 
 what was a "battle royal," and gave Capt. Ed. a reputation for 
 prowess, throughout the whole Sioux nation, for years afterward. 
 Is it to be wondered at that Blue Blanket fled the country, as soon 
 as he became sober enough to realize what he had done for him- 
 self, in chasing me down the trail ? Blue Blanket was not a fool 
 — that is, when he was sober. [Note — The few Indian names 
 I have used, or may use, are spelled as they sound. In early days 
 we possessed a copy of the very small edition of a most excellent 
 Sioux dictionary, of which, if I remember correctly, the Rev. 
 Mr. Pond — the first Protestant missionary to the Sioux — was the 
 patient and scholarly author. That copy was the only one I ever 
 saw, and unless there be one in the State Historical Society's col- 
 lection, there is probably not a copy of it now in existence. In 
 those days, of course, we could spell the Indian names correctly, 
 with the dictionary to fall back upon. But now, after the lapse 
 of so many years, the few names and terms still remembered, for 
 the most part, at least, I can only spell as I remember their pecu- 
 liar gutteral sound.] 
 
 THEIR LAST "BRUSH." 
 Myself, and a few others still living, I presume, were, prac- 
 tically, eye-witnesses to the very last battle that took place be- 
 tween the Sioux and Chippewa nations. It occurred in the wide, 
 meadow -like river bottom, about a mile below Shakopee, but on 
 the opposite side of the river — exactly opposite what was at that 
 time called Murphy's Landing — near which was a large village of 
 Sioux. That season, we four brothers were running the steamer 
 " Clarion," one of the fastest boats on any of the upper rivers. 
 On our way down the river, one trip, and upon landing at Shak- 
 pee, we found the people quite stirred up over something. They 
 
ODD HOURS. 119 
 
 told us there had just been a big battle fought between the Sioux 
 and Chippewas, in the bottom across the river a mile below, and 
 that the whites in the little town had kept the Sioux's ammuni- 
 tion supply up, and otherwise encouraged them, and that they 
 had whipped the Chippewas. As soon as we discharged our bus- 
 iness, we continued down-river, and upon reaching the scene of 
 the battle, landed and went on shore to investigate. The beaten 
 warriors had retreated up and over the distant bluffs, carrying 
 as many of their wounded with them as they could secure, but 
 had left many others, with their dead, on the field — to be ruth- 
 lessly butchered by the victors, who could be heard in their vil- 
 lage away across the river, having a savage jubilee. We, from 
 the steamboat, went all over the sanguinary field, and saw every- 
 where the fresh evidences of the bloody work. All over the great 
 meadow of high grass, were scattered great spreading trees, that 
 gave a park-like appearance to the landscape, bordered in the rear 
 by a range of smooth, green, undulating bluffs, and in the fore- 
 front by the willow-bordered, winding river. Meandering rather 
 diagonally through this park, ran a tiny, pretty little rivulet, al- 
 most hidden in places by the luxuriant growth of grass and little 
 pussy-willows. The trees were marked by the flying bullets, and 
 the grass trampled into trails ; while here and there were consid- 
 erable spots where the grass was still prostrate, with red splatches 
 on the green, showing desperate hand-to-hand encounters. For 
 some time we wandered here and there, up and down and back 
 and forth, marveling why no bodies were discovered. At last I, 
 myself, came to the little brook, pretty well down stream — and 
 therein saw a picture I can never forget. This was long before 
 the Civil War, when I had never viewed the scarlet pictures paint- 
 ed in the studios of armies, and the impression made upon my 
 young mind was an indellible one. Piled all along in this little 
 rivulet were the trunks — for, but trunks they were — of the slain 
 Chippewas, its tiny wavelets tinged with blood. The victors, in 
 their savage glorification, assisted in the gruesome work by their 
 squaws, had cut off the heads, legs and arms, as their trophies of 
 war, and then piled the dismembered bodies into the little stream ; 
 the squaws, not to be outdone by their lords in brutal savagery, 
 being guilty of nameless atrocities. This was, as nearly as I can 
 describe it, a pen-picture of the last battle (among the hundreds) 
 
I20 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ever fought between these two powerful nations. Some years 
 later I made a trip to the then wild region on the far upper Mis- 
 sissippi river, and at Pokegema Falls met an old Chippewa chief, 
 in the Indian village at that point. I entered into conversation 
 with him, through an interpreter. In the course of the pow-wow 
 I led him to talk of his former exploits in the wars with the 
 Sioux. Among his many battles and stirring experiences with 
 their enemies of ages, he mentioned that he had taken part in the 
 last battle with the Sioux. I was glad to have met one of the 
 actors in that drama, on the Chippewa side ; and, without inti- 
 mating that I had been there, I drew him on to talk of it. He 
 said, among other things, that had the whites not furnished the 
 Sioux with ammunition, and helped them to cross the river, and 
 otherwise encouraged them, the Chippewas would have killed and 
 scalped every Sioux in that village, instead of being defeated — 
 that they went there with that intention, and were strong enough 
 to have carried out their plan. But, when they saw what the 
 whites were doing they at last became disheartened and were 
 compelled to retreat. He told me how the battle was begun : He 
 said they had reached the valley early in the morning ; they had 
 gone down through a ravine, gained the tall grass and crept, un- 
 discovered to the very river bank (intending to swim over to the 
 Sioux side before being detected.) When they reached the shore, 
 however, they came upon a very old Sioux who was sitting be- 
 hind a bunch of willows, fishing. Of course, that part of their 
 line that came upon the old fellow, had to kill him immediately. 
 Although a very aged Indian, he proved to be quite gamey, and 
 had evidently "been there" many a time before in his long life. 
 He made such a to-do before they could get him killed and scalped 
 — they did not try to shoot him, as that would have been heard — 
 that the alarm was given, and that frustrated their getting over 
 the river. Instead, the Sioux came running, and began crossing 
 above and below them, and not wishing to become outflanked, 
 they withdrew far back into the park and took position behind 
 the trees and other "blinds," and there awaited the advance of 
 the Sioux, with the result already narrated. 
 
 After I had gathered these particulars, in substance, I then 
 told him that I was there myself right after the battle — and that 
 settled me, with him. He scowled blackly upon me, and said the 
 best thing I could do would be to get out of his country. 
 
ODD HOURS. 121 
 
 A FEW MOCCASIN TRACKS. 
 I SAW Other Day, when he arrived at the settlements with 
 the sixty -four men, women and children he had saved from death 
 in its most horrid forms, by his faithful friendship and almost 
 unparalleled bravery and wise ingenuity, I had known him per- 
 sonally several years before. He was a sub-chief, but of an ex- 
 tremely mild, retiring disposition — for an Indian, I was not as 
 well acquainted with him as with the other more prominent char- 
 acters, but I noted his peculiarly kind face and benignant quali- 
 ities the first time I met him. Our winter headquarters being 
 located right in the heart of the Big Woods, in the rivier valley, 
 and right on the great river-trail, gave exceptional opportunities 
 for meeting and knowing the scores of the big Sioux chiefs and 
 braves, as well as hundreds of the " common herd." This, too, 
 in connection with our navigating the river summer after sum- 
 mer, through the whole extent of the Minnesota division of the 
 Sioux nation gave them an intimate acquaintance with the ' ' Four 
 Brothers," Little Crow, the leader of the dreadful massacre of 
 '62, had been, during the previous ten years, the guest of my 
 brothers scores of times, I can, myself, see him in my mind's 
 eye, just as distinctly, and in every trifling detail, now, as when 
 he would gravely, and with much dignity, draw up to the fron- 
 tier, but ever hospitable board of my three elder brothers. But, 
 the history of our now proud and well-populated state has em- 
 balmed lyittle Crow, and "all the rest of them," in its pages. I 
 am not writing history, save in-so-far as the few little "pick-up" 
 scraps of these narratives may be styled "history," Again revert- 
 ing to Other Day, I deem him worthy of whatever honor may be 
 possible to confer by a lasting monument to his memory — for he, 
 though an untutored savage, performed a deed of love and mercy 
 great enough to save even the soul of a white man. He was one 
 Indian who must figure in history as one who was a ' ' good In- 
 dian," without the necessity of killing him to make him so. 
 
 Mrs, Wakefield, who was a captive among the Sioux, I 
 also knew well. She was a beautiful woman, and her husband, 
 Dr. Wakefield, was an eminent physician to the Indians, and a 
 lordly fellow. Mrs. Wakefield stands unique, as the only lady 
 who ever enjoyed Indian captivity — aside from some of the hor- 
 
122 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 rible scenes she witnessed among her fellow captives who were 
 many thousand times less fortunate than she. A chief who knew 
 the Doctor, claimed her, and for the most part she was treated 
 with respect, and shielded from the murdering, ravishing rabble. 
 In their wanderings, she saw much to interest her, and she gath- 
 ered material for a book which she published, following her ran- 
 som, at the time when many captives were given up to Sibley. 
 
 Once upon a time, when our boat was lying at the trading- 
 post of Traverse des Sioux, unloading Indian goods for the trad- 
 ers, I (being then too much of a tender-foot, as yet, to really enjoy 
 the hot, dirty river-water as a steady drink) took a bucket and 
 started up the river to a spring I had heard of, as being located 
 only a short way up. I would here state that all about the roll- 
 ing prairie, surrounding the big buildings of the traders, was by 
 far the greatest encampment of wild Indians I ever saw before or 
 since. Aside from the valley division of the tribe, there seemed 
 to be several thousand of the wild warriors of the far Dakotahs 
 there to meet in a friendly visit their people of the south-eastern 
 extremity of the Sioux nation, to trade their accumulated firs to 
 the traders in exchange for gaudy fabrics, beads, brass ornaments 
 and tobacco, as well as for as much whisky as they could possi- 
 bly get at any price. Their hundreds and hundreds of lodges 
 were located all about, with a picturesqe harmony of wild dis- 
 order that was almost bewilderingly fascinating. Add to this, the 
 flitting figures of a thousand proudly and flashingly bedecked 
 warriors, with their glittering tomahawks, war-clubs, knives, and 
 gorgeous necklaces of teeth, shells or bear-claws, eagle feathers 
 in their midnight hair and sweeping anklets of skunk -skins ; the 
 fat little brown children, ornamented in mimicry of their great 
 ones, the bevies of coy and pretty maidens grouped all about, their 
 bright, laughing black eyes looking out from the enveloping 
 blankets of every bright hue, with fringed leggings to match, and 
 gorgeously ornamented moccasins encasing their dainty feet ; the 
 tiny little thread of smoke mounting straight upward from the 
 browned peaks of a thousand lodges, to be lost in the blue depths 
 of a Minnesota sky ; the green-rolling prairie, with groups of 
 grazing ponies far and near ; the wild fun of the game of Indian 
 ball by day, and the great pow-wows and wild dances at night— 
 the low, weird crooning of the Indian mothers after the excite- 
 
ODD HOURS. 123 
 
 ments were all over for the day — all left an impression upon the 
 civilized mind which was hard to analyze. In fact, this spectac- 
 ular and wild vision, amid Nature's unmarred settings, left an 
 impression upon my mind when waking from the following night's 
 sleep, that I had been dreaming, and wandering in my dreams 
 through some enchanted land, filled with sights and sounds not 
 possible to the real world I knew. . . . Arriving at the spring, I 
 found it bubbling up through the golden sand at its bottom very 
 much like my mother's com -meal mush-pot in the dear old home 
 so far away ; I stood with a fixed, unwinking gaze upon the crys- 
 tal water and the rising and falling sand — my admiration present 
 but my mind far astray — when I heard the lightest of steps be- 
 hind me in the path. Turning quickly, two young Indian women 
 confronted me, each with a bucket in her hand. With one com- 
 prehensive glance I took in their whole appearance, dress and all. 
 Indeed, it was only necessary to contemplate one to include both. 
 Save that one seemed a trifle the younger, they might have been 
 taken for twins, so closely did they resemble each other, both in 
 feature and form ; and, the likeness was made more striking, be- 
 cause both were beautifully dressed (that is, in full and true In- 
 dian fashion) and both dressed exactly alike. In only a few 
 instances, comparatively speaking, have I ever seen really beau- 
 tiful women among any of the Indian tribes. Many young women 
 among the Sioux, Chippewa, Winnebago, Mandan, and one or 
 two other tribes, have I seen who were cleanly, bright and pretty, 
 but not a large number who were beautiful — possibly excepting 
 the Pueblos of the southwest ; but, the wilder the tribe (the less 
 associated with the white race, that is, as tribes,) the greater the 
 per centum of beauty among the women, or the men either, for 
 that matter. The two maidens I met at the spring, however, I 
 justly place among the most beautiful types I have ever seen — a 
 partial explanation, at least, of their marvelous beauty will be 
 explained presently. I will first describe their dress, as nearly 
 as I can recall it. As before stated, they were dressed alike. A 
 green blanket; a loose, green, pleated bodice or blouse; a short, 
 green skirt, with a corn-colored tri-sectional stripe near the bot- 
 tom ; green, neatly-fitting leggings, with a rich fringe running 
 from the ankle up to the knee, of the same color as the stripe on 
 the skirt, and similar-colored fresh moccasins on their feet, beau- 
 
124 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 tifully ornamented with porcupine quills in harmonious colors. 
 About the neck, and falling in graceful half -circles over the bod- 
 ice, were three strings of graduated light-colored beads, resemb- 
 ling pearls, somewhat. In the lobes of their ears they wore little 
 rivets of real gold, and their hair was combed up into a slight 
 puff over and around the forehead, and then swepped back in a 
 mass of glossy blackness into a long single braid that hung below 
 the waist, and ornamented at the tip by a tiny silver bell. Their 
 complexion was slightly lighter than that of most of the others 
 of their age, their cheeks bearing a little tinge of natural pink, 
 while their lips and teeth would have been the envy of all, in any 
 salon of feminine loveliness. The nose was in perfect harmony, 
 while the lustrous Indian eyes and brows were enough to set one 
 raving into a love sonnet. As soon as I could find my tongue, I 
 asked them, largely by motion, with one or two little Indian words 
 I knew, but which had no kind of application to the case, if I 
 could fill their buckets for them. They burst out into such a sil- 
 very peal of laughter (at my willing but ill-expressed politeness) 
 that I thought its sweetness must have come from the little silver 
 bells at their hairs' ends. With what I thought a very becom- 
 ing recovery of good manners for a couple of wild young Indian 
 maidens, one of them said, with the prettiest smile, "No, thank 
 you, we shall not impose upon your kindness ; we can easily do 
 it ourselves," This, in the most perfect and polite English ! A 
 small child, with a very small feather, could have knocked me 
 down, very fatally, at any time within the next minute. Upon 
 filling their buckets, and as they started up the trail toward the 
 great camp, the other one turned and asked if I was not a brother 
 to the " three brothers," I said I was, when she said, " I think 
 you resemble Chah-hoh-mina very much." Before I could revive 
 from my dream of astonishment, they had passed out of sight 
 among the lodges of the assembled savages. The boat being un- 
 loaded, we started at once on our return trip down river, and it 
 was not until far away that I had a chance to tell my brothers of 
 my adventure. They were deeply sorry that they did not know 
 of the girls' presence in the camp. They knew the young ladies 
 well, having boarded all one winter with Mr. and Mrs. Robinson 
 while the young ladies were at home. Then they told me about 
 these lovely beings ; briefly stated, this was their history : Mr. 
 
ODD HOURS. 125 
 
 Robinson, who was the first Indian agent to the lower Sioux, 
 a number of j'ears before, had taken two pretty little Indian 
 girls, sisters, and sent them east, where they were reared and ed- 
 ucated in the most refined manner. They grew into extremely 
 beautiful and, withal, loveable girls — were accomplished in music 
 and all the other attainments that gpive the finishing touches to 
 highly educated young ladies. Then they came west to their 
 kind patrons whom they really loved as parents — knowing no 
 other. After a time of seeming contentment, their wild blood 
 took fire, they doffed the conventional habit and life of the pale- 
 faces, donned the blanket of their race, and I am, so far as we 
 ever knew, the last white man who ever saw them — and I was 
 a boy. 
 
 SOME INDIAN PECULIARITIES. 
 Of course, every one knows how fond all Indians are of orn- 
 aments of every kind, in their wild, proud state, in particular. 
 They care absolutely nothing about the intrinsic value of any 
 ornament ; if it will flash or shine, show up gaudily and variedly, 
 that is all they desire. A tin star or disc is the same as if they 
 were of solid silver ; a brass wristlet or anklet serves every pur- 
 pose that gold ones could — as long as they can be made to 
 shi7ie. Small looking-glasses, that have a ring or handle so they 
 may be suspended from the neck along with other individual In- 
 dian bric-a-brac, are greatly esteemed. Of course, a mirror is not 
 an ornament alone ; it is a great improvement over a pool of clear 
 water, when they come to the work of painting their faces with 
 highly-colored pigments — I have seen Indian faces that presented 
 absolute pictures of art. Talk about your frescoes of antiquity ! 
 They cannot class up, on the same day, with a broad-faced In- 
 dian warrior, on any day when he feels like painting, and has a 
 a looking-glass and plenty of kinds of highly-colored " daub" on 
 hand. The women — particularly the young squaws — also have a 
 a great penchant for ornaments, although their most powerful 
 weakness is for gaudy fabrics and showy "jewels;" how femi- 
 nine, to-be-sure ! a pair of brass ear-rings, worth three cents at 
 retail, for her, and a ten-dollar pearl broach for her white sister 
 and, at that point, they are solidly akin. During the Sioux mas- 
 sacre, every frontier home that was pillaged, the clock, or clocks, 
 
126 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 were invariably taken to pieces, and all the wheels, and other 
 "works," removed, taken apart and used as personal ornaments. 
 One old lady at whose house I took dinner, three or four miles 
 west of Hutchinson, and who had returned after the trouble had 
 blown over, was describing to me the pranks they perpetrated in 
 her house during her absence. Of course, her dear old clock had 
 shared the common fate of all frontier time-pieces. The Indians 
 had also carried off every small article out of which they could 
 possibly make an ornament, and the balance of the furniture they 
 had for the most part broken up, or hacked with their tomahawks 
 until they were beyond recognition — though, for some reason the 
 house itself was not burned. She said the oddest thing they did, 
 was this : There stood in the pantry a barrel about half filled 
 with flour ; down cellar there was a barrel also about half-full of 
 soft-soap. They had gone down cellar and, with no end of lift- 
 ing and trouble had brought the soap up, and then poured it into 
 the flour-barrel on top of the flour. She supposed they must have 
 thought this a prodigeously clever joke on the cook. , , . The 
 Sioux canoes were made from a log, and the tender-foot, until he 
 " got the hang of it," would be on top only about half the time. 
 On the other hand, in a moderately good-sized one, a squaw could 
 take her Indian lord — who would help paddle whenever he felt 
 like it — her household gods, three or four pappooses and as many 
 dogs, and go safely, over fair water and foul. The Chippewas 
 and Winnebagoes used birch -bark canoes — beautifully modeled 
 and ingeniously constructed, I served my time in both, and was 
 finally an expert in either. In a stream I much prefer the log 
 canoe ; but in a lake, among the waves, the birch-bark is by far 
 the safer, and, with an expert at the rear paddle, it is almost be- 
 yond belief, what a sea they will ride, even when heavily laden, 
 I, with two others — my brother and Judge Preston — once crossed 
 Big Sandy Lake, the canoe well loaded down, in a sea that would 
 have very promptly swamped any log canoe, or row-boat, either. 
 My brother, being many times stronger than myself, took the 
 rear paddle, ^nd I the bows-paddle, while the Judge (bless his 
 old body) was simply made to snuggle down among ' ' the rest of 
 the dunnage" amidship, for ballast, and commanded to "be real 
 good," and " to stop his blubbering. " Upon reaching the other 
 shore, it was considered, by all three, almost a miracle that we 
 
ODD HOURS. 127 
 
 ever did reach it, anyway. The Mandan and Gros Ventres Indi- 
 ans, out in the upper Missouri River basin, used on the turbulent 
 and dangerous waters of that treacherous river, in those days, 
 what they called bull-boats. These were simply bullock or buf- 
 falo hides tightly stretched over a series of strong hoops. In form 
 they resembled a large tub. In them an Indian family and outfit, 
 always including the dogs, of course, would go whirling away on 
 the angry, muddy waters of the meanest river on earth.- I never 
 feared to embark in almost any sort of vessel, on almost any sort 
 of water ; but it is a part of my religion to draw the line just this 
 side of a bull-boat on the upper Missouri. But this matter of In- 
 dian canoes is one of necessity, and not one of taste. The Winne- 
 bagoes, in the region they occupied in those early days, could 
 obtain suitable birch bark out of which to make canoes, and also 
 the Chippewas ; the Sioux did not have enough of the right kind 
 of bark, but had plenty of the right kind of trees (chiefly linden, 
 or basswood) out of which they made beautiful canoes ; the Mis- 
 souri River Indians, possessing neither bark nor trees, had to fall 
 back on bull-hide, which they had in unlimited supply, wander- 
 ing all over the plains about them. Our steamboat came down 
 the Minnesota River one trip, when we met four hundred birch- 
 bark canoes in a body, strung along for ten or fifteen miles. They 
 contained the whole of what remained of the Winnebago tribe, on 
 their way to the new reservation home assigned them by the gov- 
 ernment, situated south of Mankato. It was not possible for us 
 to lay up to the shore and await the passage of this mass of canoes 
 and aboriginal humanity, as that wouldn't have been business, 
 according to boatmen's ideas in those days — it would have meant 
 the loss of a whole day's time. So, down the narrow, snaggy 
 and tortuous river we went. It was a sight, the like of which 
 but few, if any, ever witnessed. There were miles of the river 
 almost jammed with the canoes, and, not being aware of the ap- 
 proach of the great ' ' fire-canoe ' ' until we almost came upon them 
 around the short bends, such a yelling, such a bewildered confu- 
 sion and scramble for the shores, and such a capsizing of canoes, 
 and brandishing of war-clubs in the direction of the steamboat as 
 it swept down among them, was a sight more wild than can be 
 well imagined. There was no especial danger of drowning any 
 of them, as long as the wheels did not actually strike them (and 
 
128 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 the pilot favored them as much as possible in this regard) , for it 
 would have been as easy to drown a cork duck as one of them, 
 young or old. But I dare say it is now a legend among the few 
 remaining Winnebagoes, wherever they now are, of the time, 
 away back in the dim moons of the past, when their tribe met 
 the "big smoke-boat" in the narrow, crooked river. 
 
 A BARREL BOAT. 
 Did you ever kick yourself "clear across the river?" I have, 
 a score of times. One summer my brothers had the contract for 
 getting out all the piling, and other lower timber- work for the 
 first St. Paul bridge — the original wooden bridge crossing from 
 Wabasha street. They got out the timber at their place, on the 
 Minnesota river in the heart of the Big Woods, and rafted it to 
 St. Paul, which was attended with extreme difficulty and great 
 risk, owing to the masses of snags with which the river was beset 
 in those days, before such a thing as river improvement had ever 
 been heard of. [If I don't forget it, I'll tell you " a little story" 
 pretty soon, about the trials encountered in getting these rafts 
 down the river.] But, about the "barrel boat." That summer, 
 as usual, my part in the general operations was that of "handy 
 boy." My duties were so numerous, and my work made up of 
 such intricate units, that I fancied that the contract in hand, or 
 any other work, either on or off the river, could not have gone 
 on to a proud conclusion, had I not always been present with my 
 three big brothers, winter and summer, afloat or afield, to give 
 them the benefit of my wise counsels and grave opinions — which 
 were always on tap, for them to draw from. Among the minor 
 duties in my list, was that of "going after things" in the line of 
 supplies for the "timber getters," and they had prdigious appe- 
 tites, too, — they all were chronically afflicted with what was at 
 that time called a " Minnesota appetite." (I would give a dollar 
 and a quarter for one of those same appetites, now.) There was 
 an Irish family who had settled away over in the valley across 
 the river, named Daugherty. They had two or three cows and 
 some chickens, and could sell us some butter and eggs a couple of 
 times a week. That season there were no Indians or canoes at 
 hand, and so, I improvised a boat with which to cross the river 
 and bring over the products aforesaid. I took an empty flour- 
 
ODD HOURS. 129 
 
 barrel, tied a cord around the upper end, leaving a loop which I 
 could hold in my teeth. Then, putting in some dry brush to hold 
 my clothes and cargo up out of the water (for, the barrel would 
 leak about one-fourth full, or more, during each voyage), I would 
 unstrip, pile my clothes and vessels into the barrel on top of the 
 dry twigs, stand the barrel on its end, place one hand on each 
 side of the bottom, take the loop in my teeth, settle down into 
 the water, and then "kick for the (other) shore." After a few 
 trips of practice I became an expert at that class of navigation, 
 and could keep the barrel balanced, and myself, too, and the car- 
 go was always safely landed, although there were several narrow 
 'scapes, among the swirling eddies and contending currents — and 
 that is the way I "kicked myself clear across the river," and 
 back again, for that matter. 
 
 ONE NIGHT ON A RAFT. 
 I PROMISED to mention something concerning a raft-experi- 
 ence, simply by way of an illustration of the early-day roughing 
 it, along that line of our river work which was sometimes engaged 
 in by my brothers. It was on one of the very last rafts of the 
 season, and of the contract to be filled. The weather was rapidly 
 becoming colder, and all haste was made to get the timber deliv- 
 ered at St. Paul ere the river closed. I was one of the crew on 
 one of the last rafts, and, the river having become quite low, the 
 labor of working it down through the endless number of snaggy 
 bends until the rapids had been reached and passed, was great ; 
 progress was slow and great skill was required, to prevent the 
 rafts from being torn asunder on the snags and much of the tim- 
 ber being lost. On my raft there was a crew of six or eight men 
 and a boy (I was the boy), and after a hard struggle for it we at 
 last passed the rapids safely without loss, and from the rapids 
 down, the river was much less difficult, though the current was 
 very sluggish and progress exasperatingly slow. Of course, in 
 that sort of rafting and in those days, very little attention was 
 paid to the matter of comfort ; a batch of bread, some salt pork 
 and tea composed the regular menu, and probably there was a 
 blanket or two in the gang, and probably there wasn't. This 
 careless way of starting on the trip might be well enough during 
 warm days and nights, but did not prove very practical late in 
 
I30 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 the autumn, right in the teeth of an early-day Minnesota winter. 
 No shelter could be provided on that sort of a raft in that kind of 
 a river. We had suffered considerably with cold from the start, 
 but being compelled to exert every muscle, every moment, till the 
 rapids were passed, we could keep from becoming benumbed alto- 
 gether. Once below, however, less activity was forced upon us, 
 and beside, the cold wind became still more icy. About the mid- 
 dle of the afternoon, a drizzling rain set in, which gradually grew 
 worse, and as a pitch-dark night approached it began to freeze 
 into solid ice as fast as it fell — and it continued to come down all 
 night. By dark, the round timber composing the raft had become 
 veritable logs of ice, and to stand up on them, or even to crawl 
 over them was next to impossible. Just before it became pitch- 
 dark, we "bagged down " into a bend in the river, and succeeded 
 in getting a line out and made fast to a big tree. Then, as we 
 abandoned the icy raft and clambered up onto the sparsely-tim- 
 bered shore, the blackest, most "perishing," wettest and iciest 
 night — when taken in combination — that I ever saw, settled over 
 all. Before this time, our outer clothing had become stiff as a 
 board, our under garments soaking wet to the skin, and our teeth 
 rattled like castanets. Add to this the fact that the few matches 
 in possession of the crew were also soaked, and a slight concep- 
 tion of our predicament may be had ; although, it might not have 
 improved matters any, even had a dry match been foutid — as the 
 place afforded but little, if any, material out of which a fire could 
 have been started even under favorable circumstances. Every- 
 thing had been thoroughly saturated, and then sealed over with 
 rock-ice, which thickened and thickened hour by hour. It was 
 proposed by some that we try to "get somewhere," despite the 
 fact that it was too dark to see one's hand when held close to the 
 face, and the further fact that we were so cold and our clothes 
 frozen so stiff that we could scarcely walk, even were the footing 
 good. There were no settlers anywhere within reach, that we 
 knew of ; the village of Carver was probably two or three miles 
 below ; but those miles were largely composed of bottomless mo- 
 rasses, around which it would require daylight to find one's way. 
 The only alternative was finally adopted — that of remaining at 
 the spot where we landed and, by exercising the little we could ^ 
 strive to keep alive until daybreak, when we could see our way 
 
ODD HOURS. 131 
 
 down through the bottoms, to Carver. What we all suffered dur- 
 ing that seemingly endless night, beggars description. It was not 
 the, comparatively, comfortable feeling of freezing when dry, and 
 by frost. Instead of freezing it was the suffering, infinitely more 
 terrible, incident to "perishing," if I may use this term to con- 
 vey a distinction between the two. We must have been purple ; 
 the awful icy chill left the flesh sore and benumbed, the muscles 
 knotted with cramps, the jaws drawn and ghastly-feeling, and 
 the bones and joints as if they were breaking into bits. Once in 
 the army I passed a winter's night that was nearly similar ; it 
 barely lacked some of the more poignant points of suffering, but 
 made it all up in sufferings for long months — I may say a lifetime 
 — afterward. During this raft-night I understood what I had 
 heard old ladies, in my still younger boyhood, call " rack-a-bone" 
 pains ; though, had the dear old people been with me, for only a 
 few minutes, on that dreadful night, I could have given them an 
 example of the real thing, in the line of " rack-a-bones," beside 
 seven or eight other kinds of suffering, in combination. This one 
 night, for acute, intolerable and comprehensive suffering, I have 
 always stood at the head of all my experiences — and that is say- 
 ing a good deal. We did all that mortal men (and a boy) could 
 do throughout that night to keep a feeble spark of life within us, 
 though at times it seemed as if no power of ours could keep it 
 from being snatched away by the teeth of the screaming, ice-laden 
 blasts, that howled and gnawed at our helpless bodies, incessant- 
 ly, all the night through. After a seeming lifetime, we had just 
 enough intelligence remaining to discern the late dawn following 
 a black night, and to begin our staggering, falling, creeping and 
 icy way down through the glaring slough bottoms toward the lit- 
 tle village. To our saving, the distance proved but little over 
 half as great as we feared ; and, after a struggle buoyed up by 
 a never-dying hope, we at last crept, nearly together, into the 
 single street of the village. We, and our condition, were quickly 
 discovered, and with that big-hearted generosity ever found on 
 the frontier, our sore distress was alleviated by every act of kind- 
 ness and provision possible. In a couple of days we had so far 
 rallied, as to be able to return to the raft ; meantime, the weather 
 had cleared as well as moderated somewhat, and we passed down 
 the slow, patience-trying current to St. Paul — entering the Mis- 
 sissippi at Ft. Snelling — without any further mishap. 
 
132 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 Before finally dismissing these rafting episodes, I will men- 
 tion one other which I remember, particularly, although of a dif- 
 ferent nature from the preceding one. I have already referred to 
 the slow, sluggish current of the river, from the rapids to its 
 intersection with the larger river at Ft. Snelling — especially at a 
 low stage of water. Anywhere, between Shakopee and the Fort, 
 if the prevailing winds happened to blow up the valley, it would, 
 in some stretches of the river, either bring the progress of the 
 raft down to a " snail's gallop," or hold it dead at times, while, 
 sometimes, if the wind was heavy and persistent, the raft would 
 actually creep back up the river again, and had to be "snubbed " 
 in order to hold what had been gained, until the wind subsided. 
 This will explain the cause of the "episode." There was not a 
 ranch at that time, that I can remember, anywhere within reach 
 along that whole stretch of river, particularly of the lower half. 
 Four of us had been sent down with a raft, and when about half 
 way we began encountering up-winds. While these winds had 
 often troubled us slightly they had never been more than a temp- 
 orary hinderance to slow but steady progress. This particular 
 trip, however, proved an aggravated exception. Day after day, 
 we either scarcely moved at all, and much of the time lay at the 
 shore. Sometimes at night the wind would subside, sufficiently 
 at least, to permit us to go forward a mile, or possibly five or six 
 miles ; then with sunrise, up would come the wind again — and so 
 it went for days together. Although we began the voyage with an 
 ample supply for any probable needs, this sort of navigation 
 made sad havoc in our larder. Had we dreamed it possible to 
 have met such persistent ill-winds, we could have economized our 
 stores ; but, thinking every day that the wind would change by 
 the next, we ate, drank and were merry, until we suddenly came 
 to the bottom of our larder — all the sooner by reason of a river- 
 man's enormous appetite. The situation dawned upon our minds 
 at about the same time, and we silently looked at each other and 
 mentally inquired, each of the other, " Suppose these head- winds 
 would last a week longer?" — and that is just what they did do, 
 and more than a week. With the great, hearty appetites we pos- 
 sessed, which could scarcely be kept under control by eating most 
 of the time, the outlook was truly alarming — more, the thought 
 of our pet appetite being actually and suddenly denied full sway,. 
 
ODD HOURS, 133 
 
 or any sway at all, fairly stupefied us ; our darling, idolized ap- 
 petite ! The contemplation of such a prince among disasters al- 
 most made us sick. We were quickly minus every last thing, 
 excepting a dozen small smoked herrings — "blind robins" as we 
 then called them, and which were a chief staple in all frontier 
 stores and trading-posts, large or small — and which, if eaten, fins, 
 heads, tails, skin and all, would make about one and a half bites 
 each. These we divided equally, each putting his three little 
 "robins" into his pants-pocket, and which he was privileged to 
 gobble down at one fell stroke, or to piece out on as long as pos- 
 sible, as he thought best. The starvation proposition was rather 
 a novelty to all of us, and for the first day or so, we were rather 
 inclined to treat the matter as a huge — a very huge — joke. We 
 laughed at one another, as each would detect a companion taking 
 up his belt a hole or two, occasionally, and tasting his "robin." 
 The real foundation for this hilarity, however, was an inward be- 
 lief that the wind must very soon shift — and then we could ' ' get 
 somewhere" — or that relief would, in some form or other, come 
 to us from below, or some place else. The sensations of those 
 who are suddenly deprived of food after pandering to an appetite 
 to the verge of gluttony, are infinitely more distressing than if 
 they first, for a time, came down to half, then to quarter, and 
 then to no rations at all. The second day came and passed ; the 
 herrings had disappeared early in the fight ; our hilarity had sub- 
 sided ; we had been eating the sourest of wild grapes all day, and 
 washing them down with copious draughts of river water. At 
 night we gained a few miles, and during the day lay to the shore 
 to keep from going back. The third morning, we discovered a 
 small woodchuck come out of its hole near shore ; with stealthy 
 maneuverings we cut off his retreat and killed it with clubs ; this, 
 roasted only half done, served little more than to whet our appe- 
 tites ; our tongues and lips were "raw" from the terribly sour 
 acid of the grapes, and, altogether we were in a very sorry plight 
 throughout that third day of fasting, and the following night. 
 Meantime, my eldest brother, Capt, Aaron Russell, was in St. 
 Paul awaiting our arrival. He waited day after day, and still we 
 came not. Finally, the matter of the prevailing wind came to his 
 mind, and he at once divined the cause of the unprecedented de- 
 lay. He knew the sluggish character of the lower Minnesota 
 
134 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 River, and as there had been a slight rise in the Mississippi, the 
 current in the former would necessarily become still weaker. He 
 at once procured an Indian canoe and the Indian to assist him in 
 paddling, loaded the canoe nearly to the water's edge with pro- 
 visions, and set out for up-river. They paddled all day and all 
 the following night, and about mid-day on the fourth day of our 
 agonizing "stomach trouble," they hove in sight of the raft. No 
 white man ever looked more like an angel of mercy than he did 
 to we four, and even the Indian seemed to wear an angelic expres- 
 sion on his swarthy features. We were in really a very sad con- 
 dition. Four days and nights, nearly all the time on duty, with 
 nothing to eat, had shrunk us up beyond belief, and my brother 
 said he could scarcely recognize us. Being a masterful man, of 
 good sense, he took charge of the commissary department, and^ 
 for the first twenty-four hours issued us our rations to his own 
 satisfaction, but not to our satisfaction — by a large majority. 
 
 A SNAKE, AND A BEAR STORY. 
 When this upper country was first settled, I was told by the 
 Indians that rattlesnakes were never seen farther north than 
 Barn Bluff, at Red Wing. I believe this to be a fact, because, I 
 never saw nor heard of one in all the vast region north and west 
 of that point, for a number of years after I came to this, then, 
 frontier. I^ater, however, they began following the settlements, 
 to the northward and westward, until, in these later years, I do 
 not know where they end — unless it be away west and north so 
 far that they cannot find any more white folk to bite, or keep 
 them company. But this reference to rattlesnakes is only inci- 
 dental. What I was going to tell about, was bull -snakes ; or, as 
 many called them, prairie-snakes. In those early days there were 
 oodles of them all over the upper and western country. They 
 grew to an immense size, and I have, in those days, seen hun- 
 dreds of them that were from six to eight or possibly nine feet in 
 length. I had often heard of them being seen, which were still 
 larger — one, as being captured in the Cannon River valley, which 
 was fifteen feet in length, or thereabout. But, this latter report 
 I had considered the product of a very able-bodied imagination, 
 aided, in all probability, by an overdose of frontier " fire-water. "^ 
 Because, I fancied that I had run across about as many and as 
 
ODD HOURS. 135 
 
 large bull-snakes as anybody. I remember one instance, in par- 
 ticular, when I saw enough of them to fill the bull-snake part of 
 the program in a life-time. A settler in the valley had cleared 
 up some four or five acres of thick brush-land, bordering on an 
 extensive prairie district. The brush-heaps were large and near- 
 ly as thick as they could stand, all over the clearing. These 
 heaps had stood from mid-summer through until late the next 
 spring, had settled down compactly and become dry as tinder. In 
 the spring, I went with him to fire the heaps. We each took a 
 torch, one running along one side and end of the plat and the 
 other in the opposite direction. All we had to do was to touch 
 each heap with our torch, and when we had fired all the outside 
 ones, nearly all the scores of inner heaps were ignited by the ones 
 we had fired, one after another in succession. It soon became a 
 veritable "hot time" all about that precinct. We climbed up on 
 the sloping body of a partially fallen tree, on the windward side, 
 to enjoy the fiery view — and we did ; and soon saw something, 
 too, which was not on our program, and I am quite sure, also, 
 that such an ' ' attraction ' ' was never on any other program since 
 history began. As the heat of each burning pile quickly neared 
 the base, monster bull-snakes began to fairly leap from beneath 
 them, and glide away in every direction to escape the fire and the 
 intolerable heat. We beheld the wonderful scene in open-mouthed 
 and open-eyed amazement. A strange thing was, that all were 
 of one kind and seemed of almost exactly the same size, and they 
 were big fellows, too, — nearly as large as the largest I had ever 
 seen, excepting one, to be referred to presently. There seemed 
 to be about the same number under every heap, and all the bull- 
 snakes in that whole region of country seemed to have, by com- 
 mon consent, moved into that clearing the fall before and made 
 their winter-quarters underneath these brush-heaps, and we must 
 have caught them just on the eve of their spring dispersion to the 
 prairies again. It was not fiften minutes after we had gained our 
 high perch until the place, as far as we cold discern through the 
 clearing, was one frantically-gliding, leaping, writhing mass of 
 monster serpents. Their agony and confusion was so great that 
 in trying, in every direction, to find an avenue of escape, they 
 would rush headlong and by the score right into the burning piles, 
 only to fling themselves out again in coiling, leaping, horrifying 
 
136 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 death struggles. The scene was one of such horrible extent and 
 suffering as to arouse one's absolute pity — for a bull-snake is as 
 harmless as an angleworm, and if there is such a thing as a pretty 
 snake, they are the most beautiful serpent that crawls. Soon, the 
 spectacle became so horrible, and the stench of burning snake- 
 flesh so sickening that we fled from the terrible scene in terrified 
 and nauseated dismay — and, as for myself, I never afterward saw 
 the spot. . . . However, this was not the "snake story" I sat 
 out to tell, at all — though it is a pretty good one, as I think my 
 kind reader will concede. We were coming up the river with a 
 large and heavily-laden barge, propelled by twelve stalwart French 
 "polers," six on a side. We had — which was unusual — ^been 
 clear to St. Paul with the barge, for a cargo, this trip, I, myself » 
 was at the helm. As we were running gaily along past a section 
 of the country which, on the north side, was called Eden Prairie 
 — now, note the startling coincidence to follow — I saw some dis- 
 tance ahead, a big object swimming the river, coming from the 
 " Eden" side of the river. At first, I thought little of it, as we 
 often saw animals crossing, above or below us ; but this seemed a 
 trifle out of the ordinary, as the " wake" it made was long, and 
 seemed an undulating, graceful one, and the object seemed in no 
 hurry, whatever it was. I called the attention of the wild, dare- 
 devil crew to the object (how "wild and dare-devil" they were 
 will be better illustrated in the little ' ' bear story ' ' to follow) , and 
 with a yell they bent to their long, glistening shoulder-poles, and 
 steered straight for the object. The heavy barge surged through 
 the water with a swish under the greatly added exertions of the 
 men. I soon saw, unbelievable as it seemed, that it was a gigan- 
 tic serpent, which, aside from its wonderful length, seemed as big 
 around the body (in the middle) as the leg of a large man — and 
 it proved that this estimate was but little exaggerated. As we 
 approached it, and the boat's speed was slowed down, it seemed 
 to have halted, and, with its head erect, it gazed at the approach- 
 ing boat and excited men on the forward deck with seeming curi- 
 osity. Some of the men ran their poles underneath it, raising a 
 section of it above the water, while others, lying flat on their 
 stomachs, reached down and got hold of it with their hands, and 
 with a yell, and a " haul all together," it was brought up onto 
 the deck. This was about double the size — considering length 
 
ODD HOURS. 137 
 
 and thickness together — of anything in the snake line ever before 
 seen by any of that crew — as nearly as it could be measured, it 
 was found to be a few inches over twelve feet in length, and soon 
 proved itself to be of the female "persuasion." It seemed not to 
 be alarmed, and as we all stood about in wonderment — the French- 
 men flinging ' ' parle-voo f rancais " at it till it ought to have been 
 ashamed of itself — a thing happened, which I had heard of, but 
 did not believe. The big serpent gave itself a sort of convulsive 
 squirm, threw open her monster jaws, and held them open until, 
 one after another, a dozen or more of her young came racing out 
 onto the deck, and scattering all hands, in bewildering astonish- 
 ment to high-up perches on the freight-piles. They were all verj- 
 respectably-sized, every-day snakes, themselves — being all of one 
 size, and over a foot in length. They frolicked about all over the 
 deck, as if glad to get out for a play-spell. Meantime, the big, 
 scaly old mother looked on admiringly, as much as to say, " Well, 
 gentlemen, what do you think of that for a real nice family ?' ' If 
 she could have understood the Canadian French tongue when 
 * ' spoke ' ' by men who had probably never heard of a Sundy- 
 school, she would unquestionably have been shocked — being fresh 
 from "Eden" (Prairie.) After the "little folk" had played 
 about the deck for ten minutes, another funny thing happened, 
 which plunged the French part of the crew into a superstitious 
 uproar. The big snake raised her head about six inches from the 
 deck, threw wide her mouth, gave a weird, penetrating, squeak- 
 ing call, when every one of the young snakes flashed into line, 
 and in less than three seconds, from her call, as I remember it, 
 the last one had disappeared down her throat again ; she closed 
 her mouth and looked "pleasantly" about, as though she would 
 remark, " I thank you kindly, gentlemen, for your very appreci- 
 ative attention ; the performance is now closed''^ — and it had ; for, 
 the crew indignantly came down upon her, and pitched the whole 
 menagerie into the river, when " the biggest serpent on earth," 
 as the shownen would say, leisurely continued her voyage, with 
 her lively and promising cargo. 
 
 From first to last, this particular trip was well-filled with 
 little adventures and odd happenings. We had not gone more 
 than a mile or so after leaving the upper levee at St. Paul, when 
 the first funny thing occurred. The barge was gliding along, al- 
 
138 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 most rubbing the mossy shore at the foot of a pine -covered, rocky 
 cliff ; the pretty little beach, between the water and the foot of 
 the cliff was only a rod or so in width at the point where the thing 
 happened. The crew were fresh and jolly after their three days 
 of city life in St. Paul — before Minneapolis had yet been thought 
 of — and were ready for the long, hard " voyage" before them, as 
 well as for all the fun and adventure there was in it. Suddenly, 
 our attention was called to a whining and scrabbling, up at the 
 top of the nearly perpendicular cliff, where we beheld a bear hang- 
 ing on to the edge as if for dear life. We stopped the boat against 
 the beach and watched to see the outcome. The crew were all 
 eyes and hilarity. At last his bearship — he proved a little over 
 half -grown, and a fighter from away ^ip — lost all holds and came 
 rolling, tumbling and snarling down the declivity, landing in a 
 momentarily dazed condition, close to the boat. He had no more 
 than struck the earth until he was covered with as many of the 
 crew as could find a hold on him, all determined to have a pet- 
 bear on the long trip. The greatest picnic ever seen anywhere in 
 those parts was inaugurated then and there. The fight was stub- 
 bornly maintained on both sides, and as often as one man was 
 scratched or chewed a little too much, he would fall out and an- 
 other would reach in and take his place. At last bruin had to suc- 
 cumb to a preponderance of muscle and he was lugged aboard and 
 very thoughtlessly dumped bodily into the little cabin at the 
 stern, and the door closed on him. Talk, though, about a bull in 
 a china-shop ! That wouldn' t have been a circumstance compared 
 to that bear in that cabin. Pots, pans, crockery, dishes, stove- 
 lids — everything that wasn't spiked down — played a merry tune 
 as that bear charged back and forth. Soon he commenced to tear 
 out the side of the cabin itself. Then the captain ordered the 
 men to charge him again, and tie him with ropes out on the for- 
 ward deck, which, after another royal battle, they succeeded in 
 accomplishing. He continued to make things lively, however, 
 and by the time we reached Ft. Snelling the crew concluded they 
 didn't need a pet bear, in their business, and so they worked him 
 off on the soldiers, for five dollars, with part of which they would 
 have been glad to buy some salves and lotions for their bites and 
 scratches, had there been a drug-store at hand. When we pulled 
 away, the soldiers were having their " inning" with that bear. 
 
ODD HOURS. 139 
 
 A FEW CI.OSING ITEMS. 
 
 Not all the foregoing have been strictly "Trail Echoes," 
 —some of them only incident thereto. Still, I dare hope that all 
 will have proven of readable interest. I conclude this department 
 with a few brief, random items : 
 
 The first sermon I ever listened to in the Territory was at 
 the village of Henderson. The preacher used as his pulpit the 
 roof of a very low log hut, that was " shingled" with bark. The 
 congregation — seated all about on stumps, logs, and on top of two 
 or three flatboats lying at the shore — was composed of tough, 
 red-shirted boatmen, frontiermen, adventurers and Indians — but 
 no women, save squaws. The whites gave the preacher as respect- 
 ful a hearing as could have been expected ; the Indians viewed 
 the scene wonderingly, but did not seem able to exactly "make 
 it out." 
 
 The first white funeral, to my own knowledge, in the valley, 
 above Shakopee — and which occurred in our own neighborhood 
 in the Big Woods — was that of a venerable old lady named Ward ; 
 she was the mother of my own brother-in-law, Marion Ward, and 
 also of James and Billy Ward. She and her very aged husband 
 had accompanied these three sons and their families to that wild 
 region, from Pennsylvania, in '53, and the old lady succumbed to 
 the weight of years a couple of years later. Her eldest son, being 
 a carpenter, made as much of a cofiin as possible out of the three 
 or four boards in the settlement, while the daughters-in-law did 
 what they could to ' ' dress the dead for the grave." The remains 
 were conveyed on a home-made sled, drawn by a yoke of oxen, 
 to a spot in the woods a mile and a half away, on the claim of 
 her son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Brinker. There 
 being no clergyman procurable, she was laid to rest in the wild 
 wilderness, in the first grave ever dug in the Big Woods to receive 
 the remains of a white person, with the prayers and tears of her 
 children as the burial service. 
 
 I, myself, came within a breath of becoming the subject for 
 the second burial. Probably I suffered the severest and longest 
 seige of pleurisy ever endured by any one, who finally recovered. 
 I think the delicate, shivering scale at last turned to the life side, 
 by reason of the tender care during many, many days in the long 
 
I40 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 weary weeks, of one of the dearest old ladies who ever blessed the 
 world — Mrs. Robert R. Young, mother of the present Dr. Thomas 
 M. Young, of Seattle, and a number of other children who have 
 become more or less distinguished. Mrs. Young, wore a bright 
 green dress, strewn over with pretty rosebuds, and to my enfeeb- 
 led fancy, that dress was the prettiest thing I ever saw — it was a 
 veritable conservatory of beauty, in my eyes, during the weeks I 
 lay on the crumbly edge of the grave — during those cold, frozen 
 and dreary months of late winter, and I believe had a most salu- 
 tary effect upon me, as I feebly gazed upon it by the hour. I can 
 never forget it, nor would I. My terrible illness was caused by 
 hauling wood with an ox team out of the woods to the bank of 
 the river, through the wet, slush-snow a foot or more in depth, 
 with nothing but thin Indian moccasins, and a thin pair of 
 socks on my feet. My feet and legs were soaking in snow-water 
 all day, and at night would be almost black and without feeling. 
 In these days, this kind of treatment of one's self would be con- 
 sidered an excelleiit warrant for "getting sick;" but, in those 
 times, all kinds of exposure were rather a necessity, and nothing 
 was thought of any of them, as long as one could stand it — and 
 without a mother to guard one against such things as the partic- 
 ular one in question. It would not be right, once I have begun 
 it, to close this "sick spell" without an acknowledgement of the 
 kindness of my good friend, and winter chum, Billy Ward — the 
 little hunter. After I had fairly "started up the hill" toward 
 recovery, Billy and I both agreed that everybody — with good in- 
 tentions, but with moss-grown ideas of what was proper in the 
 case of one who had been, and still was, so low — was trying to 
 starve me to death, in obedience to the mandate of the little back- 
 woods French doctor. I was the star "living skeleton," not only 
 then, but for three months after I had gotten around again. So, 
 Billy fixed up a deeply laid scheme which, with the aid of his 
 skeleton chum, outwitted the the whole of them. He told them 
 that the hunting was rather poor at that season, and so he would 
 act as my night-nurse until I was out of danger, and longer. The 
 kind offer was gladly accepted, and Billy was duly installed. He 
 waited until every one was abed and asleep, when he sat down at 
 my side and whispered : ' ' This here starvation gruel nonsense 
 kin go on day-times, but night-times, me an' you is boss, as near 
 
ODD HOURS. 141 
 
 as I c'n kalkilate." Thereupon, he took out from underneath his 
 hunting-shirt a liberal hunk of elegantly jerked (dried) venison, 
 and with his razor-edged hunting-knife he shaved the luscious, 
 tender meat so very thin that one could have almost read through 
 it. "This here is the ham of a fat little young fawn I got early 
 in the fall, an' I jerked it particular; didn't know but what some- 
 body might need it ter git well on." He gave me two or three 
 little messes of those delicate shavings during the night, and so on 
 every night until I grew strong enough to be accorded solid food 
 by the others. From the first mouthful of those nocturnal feasts, 
 vigor and life fairly jumped into my emaciated frame, and I verily 
 believe that the pretty, bright flowers on Mrs. Young's dress, 
 was the providential means of holding me up out of the grave, 
 and that Billy's jerked venison brought me away from it, and 
 back to life's level again ; though none ever knew the causes of 
 the almost seeming miracle — save Billy and I. In a couple of 
 months, I was installed (with a pillow to sit on) as the first ped- 
 agogue in the first school-house erected in the Big Woods, which 
 I taught ' ' to the best of my knowledge and belief ' ' for six con- 
 secutive months. 
 
 Speaking about this pioneer school-teaching experience re- 
 minds me of some things : There were some thirty scholars, com- 
 ing from far and near throughout the settlement. They were of 
 divers and sundry nationalities and creeds, though largely com- 
 posed of the children of the immediate neighborhood, whose peo- 
 ple were Pennsylvanians, like myself. Of course, there were no 
 books, excepting those brought with them. By raking together 
 all the old school books, and other books, in the settlement, there 
 proved enough to go around — though, such a misfit lot of school 
 supplies was probably never seen before ; but, the scholars were 
 a misfit, too, as also their juvenile teacher, and so it was all right, 
 anyway. I knew as much as any of them, with the exception of 
 one girl, of nearly my own age. She had about as much "book- 
 learning" as myself, in a general way, though she didn't know 
 half as much about flat -boating, and such things, as I did ; but 
 this superiority of mine did not count in the school business. She 
 was very strong just at the very point where I was the weakest, 
 and that was in grammar. Grammar (as the gammins would 
 say) had always been my short leg. The ' ' parsing ' ' exercises 
 
142 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 of the older classes, in my brief school days in the East, always 
 seemed to me about as intelligible as Choctaw, or as a Hottentot 
 oration, and about as practical ; hence, I had always slid around 
 grammar, and landed on geography. Miss Mary was not so very 
 dreadfully up on grammar, herself ; but still, as something was 
 superior to nothing, just to that extent did the young Miss lead 
 her tutor. I must, however, have borrowed a little cunning of 
 the Indians, because I inaugurated a little scheme, all my own. I 
 found out, quietly, a week or two before school "took in," just 
 how far she had progressed in that abominable grammar-book — I 
 wormed it out of her older brother, who wasn't coming to my 
 basswood academy — and I hunted up the most likely specimen in 
 that line of the classics I could find in the neighborhood, and be- 
 gan its study, like or no like. I was bound not to let any of my 
 students know but that I was greatly their superior in learning, 
 least of all Miss Mary, if hard work could do it. She was the 
 only terror in the case, because none of the others knew anything, 
 to speak of. When school finally "set in" I was quite comfort- 
 able, physically as well as in mind — though still very much ema- 
 ciated from the effects of my long illness. Miss Mary, being one 
 of the tenderest, kindliest and loveable girls ever born (long since 
 gone to her final rest) was of great assistance in getting things 
 organized. In a day or two, the school was sailing along on an 
 even keel and under easy sail, with the grammar class (consisting 
 of Mary and her teacher) forging along beautifully. I found 
 that I was one or two lessons ahead of her at the beginning, and 
 by considerable night study throughout the term, I held my lead 
 very nicely, and as each day came, I expounded the deep princi- 
 ples involved in the science of language (especially in the part I 
 had learned the night before) with all the gravity of a Harvard 
 professor, who filled a "chair" of that sort at a princely salary. 
 Dear Mary never knew, and at the end of the term she declared 
 she had learned ten times more about grammar than she ever 
 knew before — and I was mighty sure I had. 
 
 And now, I will close this department, by telling you how 
 the Indians make and enjoy their maple sugar : 
 
ODD HOURS. 143 
 
 " INDIAN SUGAR." 
 The maple sugar days have come, 
 
 The sweetest of the year, 
 And in the shady sugar-bush 
 
 The joyous " whoop" we hear. 
 
 The "noble red" rejoiceth much 
 
 As the April winds come on, 
 And shoveth forth his patient squaw, 
 
 Who works the whole day long. 
 
 With little axe, she hacks and cuts. 
 
 Until the sap she finds, — 
 Her lord lies " snoozing " in the sun. 
 
 And " Hears God in the winds." 
 
 She gathers in the liquid, sweet, 
 
 And boils half down, or more, 
 And then she strains and cleanses(?) it 
 
 Down through her "pinafore." 
 
 And then, she patiently "sugars off," 
 
 And prepares the sweetened feast, 
 Then 'rouses up her other "half," 
 
 Who gorges like a beast. 
 
 If aught remains, she dippeth in. 
 
 And the pappoos ' ' stuffs ' ' as well ; 
 Day after day, thro' " maple days," 
 
 They eat, and stuff, and "swell." 
 
 And when the "sugar days" have gone. 
 
 They "lick" the sugar dish. 
 And hie them to the crystal lakes, 
 
 And settle down on fish. 
 
A MONTH IN THE WILDWOOD. 
 
 A SENSIBLE idea is gradually creeping into the minds 
 of many business and professional men, to the effect 
 that they themselves, their families, and the commun- 
 ity at large, would be greatly benefitted by their mak- 
 ing eleven months of labor count as a year's work, 
 instead of twelve. A man or woman is but a machine, 
 that will wear out after just so much "wear and tear," 
 and the wear and tear is greatly accelerated by refusing 
 to stop occasionally for repairs. This is especially 
 true in the case of those who are confined by their business to an 
 indoor life. Whereas, if they would take one month of each year 
 for pleasure and recreation away off amid the wilds of Nature, far 
 away from the haunts of man, they would do more work, do it far 
 better, be happier themselves, and make those about them hap- 
 pier, beside living longer to bless the world with the result of 
 their labor and the fruit of their experience. Hence, I repeat, it 
 is very cheering to note that these facts are becoming more gen- 
 erally recognized, as facts, year by year. 
 
 With this word, I shall introduce a party of three — a clergy- 
 man, a wrestler of hardware, and an editor — who, believing firmly 
 in the above-stated theory, made an " exploration" into the then 
 wild region (1879) toward the headwaters of the St. Croix river, 
 and one of its principal tributaries, the Clam river — ^which latter 
 we navigated from its south-fork source to its intersection with 
 its north fork, thence its whole length to where it joined the up- 
 per St. Croix — from the east, or Wisconsin side — thence down 
 the latter, beside a partial ascent of the Kettle river, one of its 
 tributaries from the west. The party consisted of the Rev. C. H. 
 Plummer (rector of St. Mark's Episcopal church). Will. J. Rich- 
 ardson, and your Uncle Dudley, the historian of the adventures 
 and general operations of the party, during a month or so in what 
 was, at that time, about as "hairy a wilderness," and on the 
 waters of as wild and rocky rivers (and to ourselves entirely un- 
 
ODD HOURS. 145 
 
 known) as could have been desired by the most daring seekers 
 after adventure, fun and recreation. We were all residents of 
 Lake City, Minnesota — and are, to this long-after time — and hav- 
 ing lived neighbors for a long time, we pretty well knew each 
 other's capacity and capability to encounter any sort of vicissitude 
 that was likely to be dished out to us by Fate — or ' ' any other 
 man." Many wild " excursions," or "incursions," have been 
 made by all three of us in the years since that time, but I select 
 this one as a fair representative of them all, and which I feel sure 
 will prove of interest to all true and happy lovers of the grand in 
 wild, unfettered Nature. 
 
 We started with a very comfortable and ample outfit, includ- 
 ing a staunch boat, a tent, provisions, camping outfit, guns and 
 ammunition, shipping all by rail to Hastings. There, we em- 
 barked on the Mississippi, loading our boat with ourselves and 
 the outfit, running down the river to Prescott, at the mouth of 
 the St. Croix, and there taking passage on the regular daily boat 
 for Taylor's Falls, sixty miles up the St. Croix river, which was 
 our real starting point. The river being somewhat low, the pas- 
 sage was slow ; at Stillwater we changed boats, and arrived at 
 Taylor's Falls late at night of the same day we left home. At 
 the Dalles House we spent what remained of the night in good 
 beds and also had a good breakfast. We bought a few additional 
 supplies — this being the "last chance " — hired a team to take us, 
 our boat and outfit, thirty-five miles across the country to Clam 
 Falls — which is near the headwaters of the south fork of Clam 
 river — leaving our "good clothes and valuables" at Taylor's 
 Falls. Across the river, on the Wisconsin side, is the village of 
 St. Croix Falls, and these were the last towns in that direction, 
 to both of which I shall refer when we make the proposed grand 
 circuit, by way of the two rivers named, and reach them again. 
 
 J. D. Ward, I remember, was the name of the man who took 
 us across the wild stretch of country — now a rich and populous 
 district — and he was a fair and noble specimen of the genus homo 
 known as an early settler on a rugged and unkempt frontier. In 
 other words, Ward was a brick — a man that would do to tie to, 
 as nearly all the hardy men of the border are. We traveled very 
 slowly, and consumed the entire day in making the portage, as 
 the road was a rough and muddy one, a cold rain fell most of 
 
146 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 the time, and it was not until after nightfall that we arrived at 
 the meager settlement on the upper Clam. 
 
 The entire distance across, we found to be a hardwood, heav- 
 ily timbered country, with but two settlements the entire distance 
 — one, an Irish settlement at Long I,ake, another at Butternut 
 L,ake. At the latter, eighteen miles from our starting point, we 
 took dinner at a wilderness "hotel," which was a thoroughbred, 
 in its way. Salt pork, potatoes, dark bread and a black beverage 
 which stood for coffee, composed the "bill," which was not any 
 larger than the bill paid. Two rather remarkable items attracted 
 my notice here : One was, that a basket may be so made out of 
 splints as to serve as a " catch-tub ' ' for the slops underneath a 
 wash-sink, without leaking out on the floor more than about two- 
 thirds of said slops ; and when there is not more than that pro- 
 portion of slop-water around on the floor, of course the leakage is 
 hardly worth mentioning. The other principal thing to attract 
 the attention of the traveler was the great appropriateness of the 
 name — " Butternut Lake." The timber around the lake was of 
 tamarack and scrub pine — hence, the name "Butternut," you 
 will observe. At this place is the first point where we came in 
 contact with the noble Red Man, a few lodges full of whom were 
 located amid the fruitful butternut groves alluded to. This little 
 squad had evidently loafed so long around the calf -pastures of the 
 white man, and gurgled so much Indian whisky at the hands of 
 civilization, at so many muskrat -skins per gurgle, that they were 
 already well on the way toward the drunkard's unhappy hunting 
 grounds. Their proud mein was broken, their plumes of aborig- 
 inal nobility were trailing in the dust, and a sight of these " red " 
 degenerates would have caused old uncle Cooper, who wrote 
 Indian novels for a living, to feel for his bandanna, with which 
 to wipe the dew from his doting eyes. They may have been red 
 once, but now their complexion resembled an oversmoked coun- 
 try ham, and if they had any of the reputed nobility of Cooper's 
 Indians on hand, I was unable to detect it — though my magnify- 
 ing glass had been left at home. 
 
 At Clam Falls there was a small, one-horse sawmill — for all 
 the world like the one that used to do business in the mountain 
 village near where I first saw daylight ; and in which, the unap- 
 preciative citizens used to say, the saw went up in the morning,. 
 
ODD HOURS. 147 
 
 and down again the next evening. That lumber manufactory be- 
 ing the property of my uncle, I remember that such unfeeling crit- 
 icisms upon its capacity used to hurt my feelings dreadfully. At 
 this place, too, there were three or four families, who gained a 
 livelihood, such as it might be, by running the little water-mill, 
 a little trading store, and a couple of rude stopping-places for the 
 accommodation of adventurers like ourselves, and stray lumber- 
 men who occasionally passed that way, to and from the pine dis- 
 tricts. We put up for the night at the " Diamond Jo House," 
 kept by J. S. Merrill — I only mention names, where those referred 
 to proved themselves worthy of that distinction. Mr. Merrill, 
 his good wife and pretty young daughter, were more than atten- 
 tive to our needs, and aside from setting before us one of the best 
 of suppers, they gave us clean and comfortable beds, and did ev- 
 erything calculated to make our little party perfectly at home. 
 
 In the morning, after a good breakfast had been partaken of, 
 with a little son of Mr. Merrill's as guide, the Rector struck out 
 into the wilderness, with an eye and air that had an appearance 
 of genuine business. Will., and your Uncle, loaded ourselves 
 down, until our legs resembled a pair of parenthesis, with guns, 
 supplies, ammunition and things, and started to find out where 
 that branch of the Clam began — the fountain-head of all these 
 tumbling, roaring and troubled waters. We traveled up the south 
 side, crossing the little McKenzie river on our way, a distance of 
 four or five miles, to where we could cross the Clam without but 
 little more than wetting our shoe-soles, then returned down the 
 north side to the Falls again. We found both rivers teeming with 
 speckled trout, many of which were of immense size. The set- 
 tlers at the Falls told us that although it was not strictly lawful 
 to catch trout at that season of the year, yet it would give them 
 great pleasure to have visitors secure what they desired to eat at 
 any time — as visitors to that little out-of-the-way wilderness re- 
 treat were far scarcer than the trout or game. Being loaded for 
 bear, and not being particularly trout-hungry, however, we did 
 not avail ourselves of the kind proffer, but only nursed an appe- 
 tite for the bear-steaks and wildcat-stews that were to smoke from 
 many a campfire down the wild, strange rivers upon whose trou- 
 bled tides we were to embark on the morrow. 
 
 Will, and I returned just before noon, without having slain 
 
148 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 anything of a dangerous character, and shortly after, the Rector 
 and the boy got in, having seen two deer, and badly wounding 
 one of them. Having no deer-dog, however, to assist (in the 
 dense wood and undergrowth) in retrieving their game, it suc- 
 ceeded in getting ofF into the wilds, and dying, without farther 
 assistance. Having investigated that neighborhood, we now hast- 
 ily prepared for the beginning of the real trip in view — the descent 
 of the south fork of the Clam river, to its junction with the north 
 fork, thence down the main stream to Clam I^ake, through it, and 
 on down the Clam proper to its confluence with the St. Croix ^ 
 thence down the latter to Taylor's (or St. Croix) Falls, thus com- 
 pleting the circle — thence on down the St. Croix to its mouth, and 
 then down the Mississippi to our home town, mid- way on Lake 
 Pepin, at the last of all. A good deal of a lay-out, as all will 
 agree, and if my readers knew as well as we did — after we had 
 finally accomplished the undertaking — the character of all these 
 streams, at that "remote period," the more timid might vote the 
 enterprise a trifle foolhardy. 
 
 Mr. Merrill, and his wife and daughter, were lavish in their 
 kindness, and furnished us with several little etceteras for our 
 comfort during the long, wild "voyage" upon which we were 
 about to start — realizing as they did, better than we, that there 
 were no sources of supplies at our command once we turned our 
 backs upon Clam Falls, and disappeared around the bend below. 
 At 2 p. m. we embarked, in our staunch and beautiful boat, heavily 
 laden with supplies and our arsenal, below the fussy, roaring lit- 
 tle falls, carrying with us the goodspeeds of all the hospitable 
 people in the little settlement. 
 
 We found the swift and rocky little stream barely capable of 
 floating our boat, many times leaving us high and dry on a reef 
 or bar, though, from shoals, we met with no serious impediment. 
 After a run of a couple of miles, however, we met our first real 
 obstruction in the form of a fallen tree across the stream, with a 
 monster drift-pile on the upper side; and I would here remark, 
 that in our run, we chopped our way through seventeen of these 
 obstructions, many of them requiring two or three hours' toil 
 (which we tried to call "a little needed exercise") in cutting a 
 hole through, large enough for the passage of the boat. One 
 would wield the axe for a time, until the sweat of manly labor 
 
ODD HOURS. 149 
 
 would pour off his brow, whilst the other two would sit in the 
 boat and give orders by the score, and point out to him just where 
 to chop, and how to chop, and caution the laborer to frequently 
 expectorate on his hands so that he might not let go of the axe, 
 and thereby lose our only dependence for passing these formida- 
 ble barriers. By attending to this latter precautionary measure 
 very sedulously and copiously, the weapon was retained, the drift- 
 piles melted steadily before us — at least to the extent of a tunnel 
 through each. After making a run of about six miles during the 
 afternoon, evening approached, and we found it time to make our 
 first regular camp on the voyage. Selecting a likely spot, our 
 inital camp soon assumed most beautiful proportions. The white 
 tent shone sharply against the rich foliage of the background, our 
 new tinware glinted like paste-diamonds in the mellow light of a 
 declining sun, the blue smoke of the campfire rose in a stately col- 
 umn toward the arching blue above, and everything in that re- 
 mote spot looked cheerful, not to say picturesque. 
 
 By a sort of tacit consent, Will, and myself conceded to the 
 good Rector the exalted position of generalissimo. His orders to 
 the other two divisions of the expedition were, as a rule (and when 
 he happened to be "looking") obeyed with commendable cheer- 
 fulness and exactness. He was supposed to know, pretty cor- 
 rectly what part of the work we were, respectively, best fitted to 
 perform, and so, we "performed" accordingly — a good deal of 
 the time, at least. Will, was assigned to the work of unloading 
 the boat, putting up the tent, and getting the battery into posi- 
 tion for offensive or defensive operations against any enemy that 
 might put in an appearance during the stilly hours of the night ; 
 the Rector made himself chief of the cullinary department, and 
 the way he marshaled a square meal into shape was beautiful to 
 gaze upon — potatoes fairly jumped into the kettle, salt pork actu- 
 ally jammed itself into the frying-pan with a joyful " siz-z," the 
 downy feathers flew from the spine and stomach of our first part- 
 ridge in a flaky cloud, whilst the air was deliciously heavy with 
 the odor of fifty-cent tea. The writer was assigned to the task 
 of gathering dry fuel for the night from the adjacent wilderness, 
 and although I expected to be gobbled up by some wild beast out 
 in the darkening shadows of the forest, there was no appeal from 
 the order of my acknowledged superior ; so, with trembling tom- 
 
I50 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ahawk, I hacked and packed until a goodly supply was obtained 
 by the time supper was announced ; the last hack of my little 
 thomas-hawk, however, had cut quite a respectable gash in my 
 north thumb, and when I came in with my last load, bowed down 
 and bleeding, the "boys" thought I had been chewed by some 
 beast of prey, or something. Finding no pursuing beast, how- 
 ever, my comrades swallowed the lump in their throats again, and 
 tied a rag around my thumb. I flattered myself that this thumb 
 would exempt me from any further perils of wood gathering, but 
 this proved an hallucination of my brain. By a majority consent 
 which was implied, if not openly expressed, the work of wood- 
 getting was about what I was best calculated for, in an expedi- 
 tion of this character. After that, by a careful study of the pe- 
 culiarities of that hatchet, I got along famously, and at the end 
 of two weeks, graduated as one of the best wood - gleaners and 
 packers that was ever set loose in any wilderness. This place 
 was named Camp Partridge, and after a cold, frosty night had 
 been spent in peaceful slumber, to the eloquent " hoo-hoo-hoo !" 
 of the big homed owls, we arose, ate a hearty breakfast, struck 
 camp, packed cargo, and again started on our " downward way," 
 on the crystal current of the tortuous but romantic little river, to 
 encounter new scenes at every turn, and in momentary expectation 
 of fresh adventure. 
 
 The morning we left Camp Partridge was one that was crisp 
 and frosty, causing the essence of a new life to run riot in the 
 sluggish veins and contracted muscles of an overworked system, 
 and cleared up the fog in our overwrought brain — it was the in- 
 toxication that comes from copious draughts of Nature's own 
 elixir, A heavy frost covered our tent, and the water in the tea- 
 kettle was covered with ice one-eighth of an inch in thickness. 
 Old Sol came up, though, all smiles and blandness, — as though 
 he peeked over the horizon at us to say, " Don't mind, boys, I'll 
 fix that frost business for you, in just a little bit,"— but accord- 
 ing to our very closest reckoning he came up exactly in the 
 west — and this reminds me : I had often seen what I supposed 
 were crooked things, in my royal march through life, and before 
 I struck the south fork of the Clam river, I had always felt quite 
 satisfied that the path of a sinner, or a ram's horn weren't quite 
 straight, and that the " worm " in a distillery was somewhat out 
 
ODD HOURS. 151 
 
 of line. But this only proves that even a man laying claim to 
 average good sense, may go blundering along for years hugging 
 a delusion, and wagering his bottom dollar on an error. I never 
 saw anything but what was at least comparatively straight until 
 I interviewed the Clam. It isn't in the power of man to portray 
 the snarl into which this beautiful little stream sees fit to tangle 
 itself. I admired it for its crookedness ; I admired it for its com- 
 plete twistedness, in its going forty miles to get nowhere. We 
 arose in the morning at Camp Partridge by the crowing of a mon- 
 grel rooster belonging to a man who lived a mile or two below 
 the Falls, who had loved and wedded (after a fashion) a " female 
 Indian," and although we traveled, no telling how many miles, 
 the following morning the gentle zephyrs wafted to our ears the 
 same familiar reveille. The habitation presided over by this dingy 
 specimen of the " L,o ! " family, we had approached nine times in 
 the day's run. The first time we discovered it, we came plump 
 up to the upper margin of the limited door-yard, and after bid- 
 ding this border home almost a tearful farewell nine several and 
 distinct times, we began to feel as if our lives were to be filled to 
 the end with one sad series of leaves-taking, without ever taking 
 leave, at all — except in theory. At last, however, as if weary of 
 just playing the act of "Farewell," the little stream swept about 
 the other way, and the squaw-man's haunt in the wilderness was 
 left to its solitude, and after a few more miles of squirming about 
 we went into camp for two days at what we called Camp Winter- 
 green. 
 
 Camp Wintergreen, our second headquarters, was situated 
 in a romantic bend of the river, only eight or ten miles above 
 where the north branch of the Clam added its waters to those of 
 the south. We determined to remain here a couple of days, more 
 particularly because we had been told that from this point on the 
 river, there extended a grand series of deer ridges, out into the 
 interior — a tract of rather elevated country, that had, at an early 
 day been covered with monster pine trees, but which had been 
 gathered in by the pioneer scouts of some "pine ring," leaving, 
 instead of pine trees, blackened stumps and red-oak barrens, 
 skirted by prickley-ash thickets and tamarack swamps. Our 
 party landed here in a cold, drizzling rain, and quite late in the 
 evening. Choosing a spot on a lower table than the surrounding 
 
152 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 country, on the north side of the stream, we made all haste in 
 getting our dunnage out of the boat and up the steep high bank; 
 and, whilst the other two pitched tent, gathered pine-boughs, and 
 got the household settled for the night, your Uncle Dudley went 
 cheerily to his task of packing in a cord or two of blackened wood 
 and building one of his characteristic fires — one so monstrous and 
 so hot that one couldn't get near enough it to warm one's self. 
 
 We had killed, during the day, three ducks, a mink, a musk- 
 rat and two partridges, so that, aside from our store-things there 
 was a good supply of substantials for a square meal. We also saw 
 a deer on the bank of the river during the afternoon, but he was 
 quicker on foot than our party happened to be on the trigger, so 
 venison stew formed no part of our evening repast. By the time 
 the Rector and the writer had the mink and muskrat skinned, 
 and their hides artistically stretched over a stick, ready for mar- 
 ket. Will, had the fowls ready for the frying-pan, and at a late, 
 dark hour, we sat within the gallery of our canvas home, sipping 
 tea and picking toothsome bones, whilst the huge campfire lit up 
 the softly-falling rain without, turning the drops into glittering 
 beads. The topic of the evening, as the smokers of the party 
 sent up blue wreaths from their fragrant pipes, was the number 
 of deer to be slain the next day, and the disposition to be made 
 of the fat carcasses. We also discussed the insane stories of old- 
 time hunters about ' ' new beginners ' ' in the deer-slaying business 
 getting the "buck-fever." We having never killed a deer as yet, 
 could not speak from actual experience, of course, but we all set 
 the thing down as a deer-hunter's yam — nothing more nor less. 
 Will, declared that he could shoot a deer with as little excitement 
 of his nervous system as if he were aiming at a bumble-bee on a 
 bloomin' mullin-stalk. The Rector thought that the sight of a 
 deer could not give him the semblance of what was styled "buck 
 fever," unless, perchance, the deer attempted to bite him. I, my- 
 self, was too much disgusted with such yams to deign a discus- 
 sion of them, more than to assert that my nerves could not be 
 jarred by anything smaller than an elephant or less savage than a 
 ripe grizzly. At last we grew sleepy in referring to the deeds 
 of valor to be performed on the morrow, in this famous deer dis- 
 trict, and after putting half a cord of wood on the fire, more or 
 less, we stretched down on our blankets and were "hooted " into 
 
ODD HOURS. 153 
 
 a deep and sweet sleep by the ever present owl — of which there 
 are many kinds, and thousands in number, in those far northern 
 solitudes. 
 
 Morning came, lowry but cool, and without rain. It fell to 
 the Rector to "keep camp" for the day, and do his hunting in 
 the immediate vicinity. Will, and the historian prepared early 
 for the exploration of this " famous deer-range," and as we left 
 camp we were but little short of a couple of walking arsenals — he 
 with revolver, knife, and shotgun heavily charged with buck- 
 shot ; I, with pistol, knife, and a Winchester rifle, and both of us 
 with ammunition enough. to have carried on the late war for some 
 time longer. As we started forth, we could but exclaim, " Who's 
 afraid !" By the aid of our compass we kept our bearings, and 
 for a several miles' tramp, did what I shall always consider ' ' good 
 deer-hunting — so far as I can judge. At about mid-day, as we 
 were picking our way through a sort of thicket, a monster stag, 
 or buck, sprang from his bed only a few feet in front of us. He 
 had horns that looked to us as large as a couple of invalid rock- 
 ing chairs, or a load of country wood. "Buck fever?" Well, 
 we have never been very clear on that point, to this day. Whether 
 it was because this was a very large deer, or whether it was be- 
 cause we came near stepping upon him, ere we saw him, I do not 
 know ; but certain it is, we proceeded to go stark mad, all the 
 same. Such a sudden transition from a state of at least ordinary 
 sanity, to that of apparently genuine idiocy, has never been par- 
 alleled, so far as my reading has extended. Violent trembling 
 seemed to seize my knees, and almost in an instant I Seemed to 
 grow weak and limp, and it began to grow dark ; it was the most 
 wonderful feeling, or series of feelings, I ever experienced — one 
 sensation followed another with such lightning speed, that finally 
 I felt as if I were going up in a balloon or something. As to my 
 actions, I can scarcely remember — it was so much like a troubled 
 and half -remembered dream. I remember cocking my gun, and 
 then letting the hammer down again, several times, probably to 
 see if the hammer could be depended upon to do its duty, in case 
 of trouble ; then I aimed it in the general direction of a neigh- 
 boring hill and pulled the trigger violently, but it wouldn't go 
 off ; then I looked down into the barrel to see if anything were 
 stopping it up, or to see if it had really gone off without my being 
 
 k 
 
f54 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 aware of it ; then I examined the stock, and finally, after an in- 
 definite period, I discovered that during all this time the gun had 
 not been cocked at all. When I finally came out of the "fever" 
 I looked anxiously about to see what had become of my compan- 
 ion — and it was just too funny for anything. He was sitting 
 down behind a big log, cleaning his gun of some imaginary dirt, 
 that he felt sure must be ruining the polish. By giving him a 
 a sharp shake by the shoulder he, too, came out of the hypnotic 
 spell, sprang to his feet and exclaimed, " Where is he at ! " It 
 was too plain a case for us to deny, even to ourselves ; it was the 
 clearest cut and most aggravated case of " buck-fever," ever re- 
 corded in any of the books upon that disease. All we could do 
 was to solemnly promise, across a pine stump, never to tell a liv- 
 ing soul about it, and as for myself I never have ; putting it into 
 this book isn't telling, is it? 
 
 This deer was the only one we saw that day, that we didn't 
 kill ; the fact is, we saw no other, anyway. At 3 p. m. we reached 
 camp, very weary, and in fact, tired out. We found the Rector 
 safe, and he had a good stew of duck ready for our sharp appe- 
 tites. We interested the good Rector, during the dinner-hour, 
 by relating to him our "curdling" adventures during the day, in 
 the wilderness, and made his mouth water by reciting how close 
 — how very close — we came to bringing into camp the biggest 
 deer he ever saw or heard of — that we should have certainly slain 
 him if — if — that is, if our guns had — had — had gone off at the ex- 
 act time when they should have operated in that way — or words 
 to that effect ; and he said it was too bad — and we both replied 
 that it was too bad ; entirely so ; and Will, and I looked kind of 
 sorry at each other, and Will, filled his pipe with cubebs — which 
 are a sort of "soft drink" in the smoke-habit, you know. 
 
 The rest of the afternoon was spent in the less arduous and 
 adventurous task of gathering wintergreen berries, and eating 
 cold duck as often as our appetites seemed to "quack" for it. 
 The Rector had also taken quite a lengthy stroll during our ab- 
 sence, and upon comparing notes about "deer-signs," it was at 
 last determined that it wasn't much of a deer country, anyway, 
 and a resolution was adopted to the effect that we abandon deer- 
 hunting until we reached a certain other famous ' ' deer-range ' ' 
 we had been told of, and which was situated near the mouth of 
 
ODD HOURS. 155 
 
 Sandy river, a tributary of the St. Croix river, from the Minne- 
 sota side. 
 
 Nothing of moment happened at Camp Wintergreen, save a 
 midnight excitement during the last night there, occasioned by a 
 deer running right through our camp — probably a big gray wolf 
 hot-foot on his trail — and plunging over the high bank with an 
 awful splash and crash into the river within a few feet of our tent. 
 Such a sudden uproar breaking in upon a sound sleep has rather 
 a singular effect upon the human mind, causing a similar mental 
 phenomenon to that of "buck-fever." 
 
 In our grand rally to "defend our home and fireside," we be- 
 came so mixed up and confused in the pitch darkness, that nei- 
 ther one knew at last, whether he was himself or one of the other 
 two ; and when we finally untangled ourselves, and got things 
 into position, the deer and his pursuer had well gone to pastures 
 new, snorting and crashing through the wood on the other shore. 
 We began to consider venison rather blue meat, anyway, and alto- 
 gether too coarse a food for our high caste. "We left camp very 
 early in the bright morning, wondering when we should reach 
 the mouth of the north fork, and wondering, too, how we should 
 fare among the Indians at the Indian village we had heard was 
 situated at the head of Clam Lake. 
 
 Before we leave the south fork of this more than beautiful 
 stream, I must describe, though faintly it may be, its romantic 
 charms. Of course, after it is joined by the north fork, and the 
 two go rippling along in one body, many of the characteristics of 
 either one, separate, are lost ; but they are only lost to be replaced 
 by those of another character which, probably, make amends for 
 the features left behind. The south fork, however, which we fol- 
 lowed nearly from its source, to where it lost its individuality in 
 its twin, and in the broad deep lake, four miles below where they 
 joined their waters, is one of those gems which must ever remain 
 "clear" in my memory. In its hundreds of bends — and there is 
 no bend without a point to correspond, of course — it presented a 
 picture, at the season of the year we visited it, and many years 
 before it was greatly reduced and spoiled by settlements, that it 
 is quite impossible to " paint with a pen." The landscape, gen- 
 erally, is pleasing, whilst the endless little details filled in by Na- 
 ture's matchless handiwork were beauty-points of her choicest 
 
156 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 selection. The narrow valley is high enough to be above over- 
 flow, and is full of all kinds of hardwood growth, and the rich 
 and luxuriant vegetation common to the richest soil. The woods 
 are occasionally relieved by a meadow of luxurient wild grasses, 
 while the bordering up-lands are covered with moaning pines, in- 
 terspersed with enough of oak, and patches of moor, to relieve it 
 from monotony, and above these again, a clear blue sky that Ital- 
 ians might praise. The little river, like a tangled ribbon of silver, 
 wends its ever-changing way downward through the pretty val- 
 ley — first to one side, then to the other, with a dozen graceful 
 curves between. Every turn seems equally fascinating, and yet 
 no two are alike in their charms. Sometimes, a high, perpendic- 
 ular bank confines its course ; then a lower bank, covered with 
 grand old maples, that stand about on the level table, like an old- 
 time park, with a grassy carpet underneath their spreading arms; 
 next a bank of meadow ; then a shore set about with low-spread- 
 ing pines, whose green, dense needle-foliage contrasts grandly 
 with an autumn-tinted background of rolling knolls ; then a 
 graceful bow, either to the right or left, the banks enfolded by 
 masses of grapevines, creeping ash and alder, bespattered with 
 every gorgeous tint and hue known to Nature's studio, and hang- 
 ing over until their multi-colored branches and tendrils touch the 
 crystal waters, as if they would kiss their own souls, as shown in 
 the amethyst mirror below. Oftentimes these interwoven cush- 
 ion-like creations, are adorned by a delicate scarlet or golden vine, 
 which has struggled up through the meshes, and then run pell- 
 mell over their surface, forming festoons and wreaths too deli- 
 cately-beautiful for mortal pen to describe. There they rest, and 
 are gently stirred by every sweet-scented zephyr that comes and 
 touches them with its pure and gentle breath. Looking down into 
 the glassy waters below, as if admiring their own real selves, 
 they dance the challenge : " Kiss me, and I'll kiss you." 
 " Oh, loosely swings the purpling vine, 
 The yellow maple flames before ; 
 
 The golden-tawny ash tree stands 
 Hard by our tented door. 
 
 October glows on every cheek, 
 October shines in every eye ; 
 
 While up the hill and down the dale 
 Her crimson banners fly." 
 
ODD HOURS. 157 
 
 The tiny beach on either side of the stream is solid and grav- 
 elly, and the water so perfectly transparent and shallow (barely 
 deep enough to buoy our laden boat) , that every one of the myr- 
 iads of speckled trout could be seen, as they shot like arrows, into 
 cover underneath the luxuriant clumps of dark green water-cress 
 that grew at the bottom — ever waving and ever bathed in the 
 cold, crystal water — where the wild " speckled beauties " would 
 strive to hide away from the strange, overshadowing enemy that 
 swiftly passed over their pebbly home, like an October cloudlet. 
 
 What troubled us greatly was a desire to know why this 
 lovely little stream was called " Clam " river. In its whole length 
 and until the lake was passed, and four miles of the main river 
 below the lake, not a single clam-shell was to be seen. We finally 
 concluded it must have been named under the same rule that gov- 
 erned the naming of Butternut I^ake, which has been previously 
 mentioned. But wait. 
 
 The day we left Camp Wintergreen we ran twenty-two miles. 
 A little before noon, upon turning a sharp bend, where both banks 
 were draped by the drooping branches of gigantic elm trees, we 
 suddenly came to the mouth of the north fork. We ran the prow 
 of our pretty boat upon the little sandy beach, and sat a few min- 
 utes gazing upon the charms of this fairy glen, and straining our 
 eyes in a gaze of curiosity away up the shaded waters of the pret- 
 ty little stranger, until it was lost among the trees and vines, to 
 see how it compared with our own little stream, which we had 
 come to love ; and, it was with a feeling of almost jealousy that 
 we viewed the pretty stream, as it swept along, fairly swallowing 
 up our own silvery brook. The north fork seemed to be at least 
 one-third larger than the south fork, but was, so far as we could 
 see, a fit companion for its less powerful mate. We all gazed 
 back upon our little favorite with a sigh at the parting, bade it 
 adieu, and were soon floating upon broader, deeper, and swifter 
 waters, with very different views upon either hand. 
 
 An hour more, and we suddenly shot out from the forests, 
 and from among the hills and ridges, into a flat country, and an 
 opening in the landscape of great extent, which told us the lake 
 was near at hand. A mile or so of winding about among "fields" 
 of wild rice (where thousands of acres of this Indian staple stood 
 higher than our heads, and shut out our view as we sat in the 
 
158 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 boat) brought us to open water, where we first viewed the broad 
 sheet called Clam I^ake, and for the nonce our river tour was at 
 an end, to be resumed again six miles below. 
 
 Here we found tens of thousands of wild ducks of every spe- 
 cies, and other water fowl. Before starting on our lake voyage 
 we anchored our boat in one of the narrow passages leading from 
 one bay to another, and we soon supplied ourselves with an abun- 
 dance of the fattest and prettiest of the web-footed treasures — 
 acres upon acres of them being visible in the distance, as they 
 floated and sported on the blue waters away off upon every side. 
 With my long range rifle, I sent bullet after bullet, half a mile 
 away, among them, simply to see them rise — which they would 
 do by thousands, with a roar like distant thunder. They would 
 circle around over us, when the Rector and Will, would send up 
 shot among them, and dead and wounded ducks would fall with 
 a splash and a ' ' quack ' ' all about us. After securing what we re- 
 quired for food we ceased firing, ate a cold lunch in the boat, and 
 prepared for the passage of the lake. The ducks were as fat and 
 savory as a roll of spring-house butter, from feeding upon the 
 rich-flavored wild rice which was all about in endless supply. 
 
 The lake we found to be quite rough, a stiff breeze blowing 
 in the direction we wished to go. This was fortunate ; Will, be- 
 ing the " old tar" of the party, very soon had a sail improvised, 
 by using a rubber blanket, an oar for a mast, and a small pole for 
 a yard-arm. All being ready, we headed down the lake — your 
 Uncle at the helm. Will, to "work" his sail, and the Rector to 
 act as "skipper" for the voyage. Had we not been provided 
 with a little craft, as staunch as she was beautiful, such a land- 
 lubber as myself would have feared to go out among the white- 
 caps ; as it was, I never enjoyed such a ride, before nor since. 
 We passed the six miles in about forty minutes — up wave and 
 down hollow. Under pressure of the increasing breeze, the craft 
 fairly flew through the water, riding the waves so gracefully 
 that scarce a drop of water was taken in. An Indian village was 
 perched along on the high left bank , near the head of the lake, 
 but half a mile or so from our course. Had we not wished to 
 take advantage of the fair wind, we should have paid the village 
 a visit, and possibly have partaken of a noonday feast with the 
 dignitaries of the wilderness. Under the circumstances we could 
 
ODD HOURS. 159 
 
 only wave the "principal men," and also the principal women, a 
 salute of honor. They stood along the shore, apparently amazed 
 at the sight of our beautiful boat as she flew through the water 
 and over the white-capped waves like a snow-white bird. It was 
 a joll}' ride, and a strange picture, to the Indians, on those wild 
 blue waters of theirs. 
 
 We had some diflficulty in finding the outlet of the lake, as the 
 little river's exit was not observable until its very beginning was 
 reached ; it stealthily stole away around a low point of land, as 
 if seeking to once more hide itself among the trees and hills, glad 
 to escape the heaving, troubled lake behind. By halting at a lone 
 wigwam, however, we made out to learn where the outlet was 
 located, for which information we assured the old "dusky maid " 
 that she was a gentleman and a scholar, and requested that if she 
 ever came our way she must be sure and call, as our latch-string 
 would be out. Her response was exceedingly graceful and classi- 
 cal, when considering the limited advantages in her early educa- 
 tion. She remarked : ' ' Wah ! wo wampum kumme ga-gah-wah !" 
 Neither of us could quite catch the drift of this beautiful senti- 
 ment. Will, suspected that it referred, at least in a modest way, 
 to bottled goods ; but, as we weren't in stock, in that line, I ven- 
 tured to suggest that a twist of tobacco might prove acceptable to 
 her royal benignity, and so it proved. As I handed it to her, such 
 a smile rent her countenance that, if it should remain permanent, 
 her nearest of kin would not recognize her. At just this point in 
 the treaty one of the seven or eight wolf-dogs began toying with 
 one of my heels, and at this intimation that negotiations were at 
 an end we all retired in good order to our waiting ship. 
 
 A half hour from the close of our Indian treaty, we found 
 the gate that relieved us from the wave-washed shores of Clam 
 Lake, and, whilst yet the sun was above the tree-tops, we round- 
 ed the point and entered the river once more — the stream which, 
 in all its peculiarities, make up a veritable little valley of romance. 
 
 A rather quick current bore us along, and, after being re- 
 lieved from the agitation of the disturbing waves, we allowed our 
 noble craft to float at will for a mile or two, whilst we loitered 
 and " lazed." We laid back in our easy seats, gazed up into the 
 blue, and enjoyed in silence, to the fullest realization, that all 
 
i6o UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 around was peace and beauty, and felt that the troubled world had 
 passed away. 
 
 Thus we floated and rested ; seeing castles high in the clear, 
 pure air, peopling them with the faces and figures of far-away 
 friends — discerning plainly, too, the faces we most loved on earth, 
 and those we mourned most, who were now in the paradise away 
 above the pretty blue. Our reveries were broken at last by the 
 striking of our boat upon the shore, where it rested from its on- 
 ward course, as if in sympathy with ourselves and the silent world 
 about us. 
 
 Four miles below the lake we came to the first interruption 
 to our, thus far, most pleasant and comparatively tranquil jour- 
 ney. At this point there was a sort of logging flume spanning 
 the river. What a flume of this sort is for, exactly, we could 
 not leani from the three surly, uncommunicative men who appa- 
 rently made their headquarters here — the employees of a Mr. 
 Chase (an extensive winter lumberman up in that region) , who 
 made his home at Taylor's Falls, and whom we had met there and 
 found to be a pleasant old gentleman. A large log house and a 
 small farm is to be found here ; one of the men seemed to be the 
 cook, another the boss, and the third a sort of middle man. They 
 would not sell us any milk, though there were three or four cows 
 about the ranch ; the boss was in the act of threading a bull-frog 
 onto a fish-hook, when we landed, and the middle-man lay bask- 
 ing in the sun, on the timbers overlooking the flume. Finding 
 they were inclined to be neither sociable or accommodating, we 
 prepared to run through the roaring flume. First, we unloaded 
 our boat, hauled it over a boom into the water just above the 
 artificial falls ; then we reloaded, and whilst the Rector took the 
 three guns, and a few lighter valuables and walked around by the 
 shore. Will, and I took our seats in the boat — Will, as bowsman, 
 and I at the helm^and prepared to run the flume. It is proba- 
 bly needless to say that whilst our movements were cool and de- 
 liberate enough, our hearts were dancing a polka within, and our 
 nerves were strung like wire. Soon, we entered the quickening 
 current, and as we neared the brink, we could feel the noble little 
 boat fairly throb with the increasing motion ; we had not long to 
 wait ; holding her straight with the current, she leaped over the 
 brink at the beginning of the long chute, then flew like light- 
 
ODD HOURS. i6i 
 
 iiing down the smooth inclined plane, and in an instant she fairly- 
 leaped into the roaring flood below. For a moment all seemed a 
 blank, and then the boat shot out from the surging, foam-covered 
 waters into the current below, and in another moment we rounded 
 to into the eddy with an exultant shout, which was heartily re- 
 sponded to by the good Rector, who stood on the shore, a witness 
 to the exciting scene. After a moment of congratulations and 
 comment upon our success in keeping clear of an ugly rock, that 
 we had barely escaped, all embarked again, and with a shout 
 tinged with defiance to the surly three and the roaring flood be- 
 hind, we again turned our prow down stream, and that point was 
 quickly lost to view as we shot around the bend below upon the 
 rushing current. 
 
 Exactly at this point is where we first discovered that there 
 was propriety in naming this stream ' ' Clam ' ' river. For a mile 
 below the flume, the wide, shallow stream was completely and 
 compactly paved with clams, of great size, from one shore to the 
 other, and for several miles below, there were extensive beds of 
 these clams, so solidly packed together that the bed of the river 
 resembled a city street paved with cobble stones. 
 
 The evening being far advanced, we at once began looking 
 out for a comfortable camping place. Clouds had o'erpread the 
 sky, and the distant thunder warned us that a wet night was in 
 prospect. Two miles below the flume we landed, and pitched 
 camp under a dark canopy formed by a small grove of monster 
 pine trees, and close to the little river's shore. The night that 
 followed was an eventful one, in storm annals, and this camp we 
 appropriately named Camp Thunder. 
 
 We had barely time to put our camp in order — everything in 
 the tent — and cook a hasty supper, ere darkness set in, and with 
 it came the storm. And it may as well be stated here, as any- 
 where, why we called this place Camp Thunder. It did thunder; 
 it thundered all night ; such thunder, too, as one hears but a few 
 times, if at all, in a lifetime. It was literally "A night of Ter- 
 ror." There were, between dark and daylight, at least six dis- 
 tinct and separate thunder-storms. One would follow quickly 
 upon the heels of another, and each seemed to vie with its pre- 
 decessor, in the intensity of its downpour of rain, in the earth- 
 shaking crashes of its thunder, and in the seething, scorching 
 
i62 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 chains of its "molten electricity." The entire night was a dis- 
 play of awful grandeur, and a storm series completely beyond any 
 man's descriptive powers. We could fairly smell brimstone, all 
 through the "never-ending night," as we crouched in terror in 
 our electric-lighted and quaking tent. Added to the fear of being 
 killed outright by the awful bolts in such a wild, weird region, 
 was the additional dread that our guns and ammunition might be 
 "struck," and indeed it seems almost miraculous that they were 
 not. In our tent were two shot-guns, a magazine rifle, two re- 
 volvers — all loaded — knives, axe, hatchet, and two bags of cart- 
 ridges. Hence, where blue-sulphur lightning chains were fairly 
 plowing up the earth all about us, with scarce a moment between, 
 for ten mortal hours, it is but little wonder that we were worked 
 up to a toleoably high pitch of anxiety relative to our personal 
 safety. Had the electric streams concluded to investigate our 
 tented arsenal, that particular party of explorers would probably 
 have emigrated to the moon, leaving only a small grease-spot to 
 mark their starting point. 
 
 Everything in this world has an ending, however, so far as 
 we have been able to discover ; among others, that night ended in 
 a clear, innocent-looking morning, and it was one of the most rel- 
 ishable endings ever experienced by mortal man. We lived to 
 tell the tale, but never want a similar opportunity to tell what we 
 know about the Storm King's pyrotechnical accomplishments in 
 that wild northern latitude. 
 
 Following this eventful night — immediately following it — 
 one of the rarest sights, as well as the grandest ones, greeted our 
 vision, that we ever saw befor or since. The writer happened to 
 be the first to emerge from the tent after daylight, and as I gazed 
 about to see how much of the world was still on hand after such 
 a night's business, my eye fell upon the beautiful little river, by 
 means of a small opening through the low-hanging pine boughs. 
 At this point the river was quite wide, and also ran straight for 
 half a mile. What I saw was ducks — canvas-back ducks, and 
 nothing else. As is generally known the canvas-back is a very 
 large duck, and among the most juicy and luscious of game-birds 
 — especially when fattened on the wild rice of this far-north coun- 
 try. What made the sight rare and grand beyond the telling, 
 was because of the number of them before me, their uniform size 
 
ODD HOURS. 163 
 
 and plumage — each one exactly like the other. They had doubt- 
 less been driven, from far and near, into the crooked little river 
 for protection from the awful night-storms just past. We had 
 seen no canvas-backs, excepting a few among the myriads at the 
 head of the lake, nor did we see any of this kind afterward, ex- 
 cepting an occasional pair in some secluded slough. Here, in one 
 solid moving mass were a score of thousands of them, probably, 
 closely filling the river, from shore to shore, for nearly half a 
 mile. They seemed to float along in closely packed platoons, and 
 without the slightest sound, or irregular movement. They are a 
 sullen, solitary species of the duck family, majestic in their move- 
 ments and graceful in their poise upon the water. The wonder- 
 ful — almost unbelievable — sight before me, riveted me to the spot 
 for a moment or two in abject amazement ; I almost fancied my- 
 self in a dream, the sight seeming so unreal. I could scarcely 
 believe my sight or senses, and gazed in silence at what seemed a 
 picture of the imagination rather than a reality. Thus did I 
 stand, with eyes astare and mouth agape, until more than half 
 the mass had floated by ; then, quietly entering the tent, I said to 
 the boys, in a sort of hissing stage whisper, ' ' Loo-loo-look at er 
 iver, diver, iver, driver ! ' ' They could not comprehend my mut- 
 terings, and looked at me as if they would say, " Poor fellow ! 
 the terrors of the night were too much for him ; he's gone stark 
 mad." But, seeing me frantically hunting for my gun, and mut- 
 tering, "Ducks, rucks, mucks, river, driver!" they at last par- 
 tially comprehended, grabbed their blunderbusses and followed 
 me quickly and quietly out. Being so beside myself with excite- 
 ment — it was quite as bad as the "buck" fever, this "duck" 
 fever — I hauled up my sixteen-shooter and commenced banging 
 away at everything around camp, excepting the ducks ; and, be- 
 fore my two comrades could figure out the " seat of the trouble," 
 the ducks arose with a roar like distant thunder, and fairly made 
 things tremble, those below camp going down, and those above 
 going up the valley, in two great roaring clouds. By a vote of 
 two to one it was agreed that all the great big chumps weren't 
 dead yet. The writer, however, submitted a minority report ; I 
 also insisted that if they'd gazed on the sight I had, they would 
 have ' ' gone idiot ' ' worse than I had — and I looked a meaning 
 gaze at Will., and that closed him up as tight as a pop-bottle. 
 
i64 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 The Rector, though, made me gather half a cord of wood with 
 which to cook breakfast, and climb the pine trees all around camp 
 to gather pine-cones and dry twigs to start the fire — intimating 
 that I must be good for something. We all had a jolly time, just 
 the same, and whilst repartee flew back and forth between us, the 
 Rector got us up a splendid meal, while Will, packed things up, 
 ready for a seasonable start. 
 
 Another little episode transpired just after the meal was over, 
 the writer being the victim — seeming to have been born under an 
 unlucky star. In putting on my coat and vest, and just as I had 
 them snugly buttoned up about the neck, I commenced the most 
 unaccountable series of antics and caperosities ever seen, outside 
 of a three-ring circus, or a monkey -garden. My friends cried out, 
 "What under the blue canopy is the matter now. Uncle Dud.? — 
 what have you got, now?" and they tried to surround me, with 
 bulging eyes and outstretched arms. I yelled out that I didn't 
 know what it was I "had," but thought it must be either a pa- 
 per of pins or a couple of bucksaws. I began tearing away my 
 coat and vest at the collar, standing on my head and tipping over 
 in various ways. At last I got off my vest, and there, inside the 
 collar, was a stupid-acting old bumble-bee, as big as a walnut — 
 a good-deal the biggest bee I ever saw, even of his monster spe- 
 cies. He had doubtless crawled into the tent to escape the storm 
 and taken up warm quarters inside my vest collar. He was a boss 
 bee, and had a harpoon attachment of prodigious proportions ; 
 when I squeezed him up against my neck he commenced a sword 
 exercise, whilst I proceeded to do an acrobatic stunt, much to the 
 alarm of my two companions. For the next day or two I could 
 scarcely have worn a twenty-two-inch collar. 
 
 We made twenty miles this day, encountering our first rap- 
 ids, of which we ran five different chains during the day, though 
 they were not difficult ones. This was a very enjoyable day's 
 run, and we went into camp at 4 o'clock in the evening, on a high 
 and beautiful plateau, overlooking the river, up and down, for a 
 long way, and the whole valley on the opposite shore, which was 
 an extensive hardwood bottom, interspersed with meadow-lands. 
 About half a mile below us was a small island, and just as it be- 
 gan to grow dark we saw a bear swim from the island to the 
 mainland — but a little too far off to reach him with our rifle. 
 
ODD HOURS. 165 
 
 This place we called Camp Comfort — it being the prettiest, most 
 sightly and most convenient camping place we had yet found. 
 
 At this camp we made our first "bouillon" — pronounced 
 " booyaw," in a common way. It is supposed to be a French mix- 
 ture, a common one with hunters and explorers, and withal very 
 "strenthnen." Ours was made pretty nearly after the proper 
 formula, as follows : Taking our four-gallon camp kettle, we 
 made it full. The contents consisted of salt pork, three kinds of 
 ducks, several snipe, potatoes, a turnip, onions, bread crumbs, a 
 flour batter, and salt and pepper to taste. The whole aggrega- 
 tion was boiled four hours, the bones extracted, then boiled some 
 more, until all had thoroughly amalgamated ; to be served hot in 
 the morning or evening, and sliced for a noonday lunch. The 
 getting up of this mixture was a grand occasion, and all three of 
 us had more or less to do with it in the long process of manufac- 
 ture, during the first half of the night at this pleasant camp. The 
 Rector, however, was the boss artist in the compounding of this 
 wonderful creation. Will, was first-assistant, and the historian 
 was general-utility man — supplying fuel and carving out a paddle 
 from the body of a young tree, with which to stir this luscious 
 flapdoodle. This paddle was a wonderful construction, and for 
 a long time afterward was preserved, as the prize "dingus," 
 among the souvenirs of that eventful voyage. We ate of this 
 "mash" — a name I shall hereafter give it, for short — and retired 
 at a late hour. We ate more for breakfast ; had cold mash for 
 dinner, and so on, more or less for two or three days, until " boo- 
 yaw ' ' became a decided drug in the market — excepting with the 
 Rector, who stuck to it until the last spoonful was finished. Will, 
 and I tried, toward the last, to find an opportunity, or excuse, to 
 dump the awful daub overboard ; but the Rector declared that the 
 last spoonful was just a trifle more relishable than the first one. 
 Will, and myself could not but exclaim, with unfeigned admira- 
 tion, " Plucky Rector ! " 
 
 The next morning we got an early start, and as we passed 
 slowly over a deep hole, down near the island referred to, we cast 
 our clumsy old hook overboard and hauled in a monster of a wall- 
 eyed pike, which made us a good fry for supper. 
 
 I would state that we saw no trout below Clam lake, and are 
 under the impression that there are none. This belief is pretty well 
 
i66 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 grounded, because we saw pretty much all the fish in the river. 
 As we would pass over the deep places in all the bends, we could 
 look down into the water and see hundreds of beautiful bass, pike 
 and perch, as plainly at a depth of ten or twelve feet as though 
 they were in our own hands. The water was so perfectly bright 
 and clear, that the smallest object on the bottom could be seen dis- 
 tinctly, and even in a magnified degree. I never saw such sights 
 in the way of beautiful fish before. We took but few of them, 
 however, as we were not on a fishing tour, nor were we fish-hun- 
 gry, particularly. 
 
 I must not neglect to remark, that along the main river, and 
 its tributaries, as well, there were a greater number of the beauti- 
 ful birds known as the king-fisher, than in any region we ever 
 before visited. What a grand place, thought I, this would be for 
 the Parisian milliner to secure the coveted plumage for the bon- 
 nets of the belles ! Their numbers were so great that their bright 
 feathers actually added a brilliant feature to the autumn-mottled 
 landscape — the whole, together, forming a charming picture. 
 
 Along the lower ' ' Clam ' ' the valley is ornamented — aside 
 from the usual number of pines and cedar — with the most beau- 
 tiful balsam trees, their form and rich green color making them 
 simply magnificent. Above the ground eight or ten feet, the limbs 
 start squarely out from the body, all around, running out ten or 
 fifteen feet in some instances, and this as a foundation for the 
 pyramid of dense foliage, they would run slopingly upward until 
 the finishing branch stood like a delicate, lonely plume at the top, 
 making a pyramid of living beauty that was as absolutely perfect 
 as if cast in a mold, and twenty to fifty feet in height — though, 
 of course, there are thousands of young ones, too ; and what 
 " Christmas trees ! " These trees, away off in their native wilds, 
 are wonderful to behold, and I thought how sad it was that such 
 grand beauties should be isolated so completely from the admira- 
 tion to which they were so much entitled. Such as hundreds of 
 those we saw, would be worth a vast amount of money could they 
 be transferred to the parks and private grounds of the civilized 
 world. We never tired of gazing upon these marvelous models of 
 beauty, turned out by the seemingly rude workshop of Nature. 
 
 The day, after leaving Camp Comfort, was rather a wet one, 
 most of the time ; by putting on our rubber coats, and securing 
 
ODD HOURS. 167 
 
 our camp equippage by rubber blankets, we enjoyed the day very 
 much, until the rapids of the lower Clam was reached, at about 
 3 o'clock p. m. We had a good deal of good shooting during the 
 day ; the river grew more deeply interesting with every turn. 
 Just before noon, we came to a terribly inhospitable-looking camp 
 on the left-hand shore, which was little better than a hole in the 
 ground, occupied by three of about the toughest -looking citizens 
 we ever met up with — probably outlaws, who had swindled the 
 gallows of its just dues, somewhere in civilization ; their camp 
 showed destitution, and their clothing was in rags. One of them 
 espied our approach, and they all three came to the bank and 
 scanned us, our pretty boat and comfortable outfit with a suspi- 
 cious air, as well as with apparent envy. They had long hair 
 and bushy whiskers, that had evidently been as innocent of comb 
 as their smoked visages had been of soap and water. As we came 
 near we saluted them in a friendly manner, and asked how far it 
 was to the mouth of the river, and some other questions ; in an- 
 swer, we received but little or no satisfaction. A suspicious fact 
 was, too, that they had no semblance of a boat, canoe, or other 
 craft. We indulged in very little " truck" with them, and were 
 just as well pleased that our next camp was located several miles 
 from them. Though, unless they had taken us by surprise in 
 the night, we should probably have been able to make it decid- 
 edly interesting for them, had they ventured upon a marauding 
 expedition, or a call for booty. 
 
 At about 4 o'clock we came to the first rapids of importance 
 — the first "slide down a hillside" — and although the day was 
 well advanced, we agreed to attempt their passage before going 
 into camp, and "have them off our mind." Of course, we were 
 ignorant of either the character or number of rapids to be encoun- 
 tered before reaching the St. Croix river, which we judged must 
 be within eight or ten miles of this point. 
 
 After putting our cargo and ourselves into the best possible 
 trim for a battle with the rocks and the roaring flood which ex- 
 tended as far as we could see, down a long inclined plane, and 
 around a bend, out of sight, far below. We pulled out into the 
 middle of the stream, straightened our noble little boat with 
 the current, pointed her for the most " likely - looking" channel, 
 and in a moment more were struggling with might and main to 
 
168 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 save ourselves and our boat from destruction among the rocks 
 and surging currents of the first big rapids we had encountered. 
 " Trouble, trouble, boil and bubble/' 
 Let the reader imagine himself shooting down a hillside flood 
 beset with cross-currents, whirlpools, and great rocks, both be- 
 neath, and towering above the flood, and he will partially realize 
 the nerve-force we were called upon to expend in running through 
 the fifty-three rapids we encountered before reaching Taylor's 
 Falls again. This series of rapids was much longer and more 
 dangerous than we had calculated upon, else we should not have 
 undertaken the descent so late in the day. When a little more 
 than half way down, we were thrown by a terrific cross-current 
 upon a friendly flat rock, which gave us a breathing spell, and 
 time to look up through the dancing white-caps and grim black 
 rocks already passed, and down upon those yet below. We held 
 a brief council, and it was agreed that the Rector (being a heavy- 
 weight) had better take our valuable guns, etc., and wade ashore, 
 and make the best of his way down through the prickly-ash thick- 
 ets to the foot of the rapids, whilst Will, and I would take the 
 lightened boat, and the remainder of the (to us) precious cargo, 
 down through the remaining half-mile of troubled, and trouble- 
 some, waters. The distance was not greatly underestimated, and 
 had the boat not been relieved of the weight of one, and the arms, 
 I verily believe we should have lost our all, if not our lives, before 
 reaching the still water below, that wound peacefully around one 
 of the most beautiful and romantic bends I ever beheld ; a perfect 
 fairies' paradise — 
 
 Where linnets might sing their true-love tale — 
 In lieu of the owl's sad, mournful wail- 
 Where fairies might hold their fairy-larks. 
 And nymphs go riding in their gos'mer barks. 
 Ordinary human descriptive ability often falls, abashed, in 
 the presence of Nature's presentations, and in this instance I shall 
 not undertake to describe, by pencil, what could not be trans- 
 ferred to canvas by the brush of any artist. 
 
 In this peaceful cove our noble little boat rested her prow on 
 the mossy shore, as the twilight deepened, with two as well-jaded 
 navigators as ever rested oars, awaiting the arrival of our exiled 
 comrade. Not many minutes elapsed before a lonely shout was 
 
ODD HOURS. 169 
 
 heard from the entangled wilds that bordered the beautiful river. 
 We responded most heartily and encouragingly, and in a few min- 
 utes we beheld the good Rector emerging from the dense bramble 
 thickets, stooping 'neath the weight of his three guns, and almost 
 exhausted from the terrible ordeal through which he had passed 
 among the ash-thickets, that seemed to perfectly line the river at 
 this point. We made him rest, while Will, and I pitched camp 
 in a regular little grotto-valley, and prepared for a needed night's 
 rest after one of the most pleasant, adventurous, and tiresome 
 days of the expedition. 
 
 The day was nigh-spent, and the evening star was faintly 
 peeping down through the balsam boughs ere we could moor our 
 boat at a mossy bank and choose a spot for our tent. It was a 
 little point of land, of probably a hundred acres, as level as a 
 floor and carpeted with several kinds of moss that even royalty 
 would have gone into ecstacies over. Its pillars were formed of 
 the stately balsam trees, its wreaths of fan-spruce, its garlands of 
 ten-hued ivy, whilst its soft green carpet was spangled with a 
 hundred rich and mellow colors, by the fallen leaves of the maple 
 and birch that were interspersed among the greens, and cast their 
 delicately tinted contributions down upon the velvet carpet to 
 add the figures to the unmatchable floor. As we landed, and 
 stepped up to the level of this plateau of almost awesome beauty, 
 we felt that to tread upon it was a desecration, that might bring 
 all the warriors of this fairy realm upon us in a just indignation. 
 
 We pitched our tent and built our camp-fire near the beach, 
 and a clear, star-lit night was soon upon us. After a hearty meal 
 we lay prone upon the carpeted earth in front of our cheery fire, 
 and rested our weary limbs, as we discussed the topic of "shoot- 
 ing rapids ' ' instead of shooting game. The murmur of the wa- 
 ters over which we had passed, was the only sound of the stilly 
 night — save the chorus of the ever-present owls, in variety — and 
 we fell asleep, soothed by the murmur of the torn waters above 
 camp, which were more reconciling than had they been below us. 
 
 It was hoped we had no more rapids to pass, at least on the 
 Clam, as none were in sight or hearing in the direction of down 
 river. We felt sure we must be quite near its confluence with 
 the St. Croix, too, and being somewhat anxious to find out what 
 yet lay in store for us in the way of rapids, our start in the mom- 
 
170 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ing was a tolerably early one. This place was called Camp Bal- 
 sam, and was, as estimated, twenty-two miles below Camp Com- 
 fort. 
 
 Loading our boat with great care, and taking our respective 
 positions for emergencies, we left beautiful Camp Balsam and 
 swung out into the pretty and now pacified stream. The Rector 
 declared he would take his chances on ' ' going to the fishes " ere 
 he would foot it around any more rapids, either accompanied or 
 unaccompanied by three guns — that if the boat could carry two 
 she could carry three, even if he was nearly as heavy as the other 
 two together, and she had got to do it, bump rocks or no bump 
 rocks. We agreed with him, that "navigating" that country 
 on foot was away above a joke, and so determined that we would 
 all sink or swim together, unless it could be seen that the shore 
 was perfectly clear of prickley-ash thickets. However, we trusted 
 there would be no farther need of lightening our craft, for some 
 time at least. But this hope was soon blasted. A mile or so be- 
 low camp we again heard trouble ahead, and soon we were again 
 among savage waters, which we found to continue about a mile 
 ere peaceful waters were again reached. We passed them, how- 
 ever, without serious accident, further than breaking an oar and 
 and one of our poles, and experiencing a general shaking up, as 
 an occasional rock was struck or a ledge jumped. A mile below 
 these chains we turned a graceful bend and found ourselves sud- 
 denly "emptied" into the St. Croix, and ere we could scarcely 
 realize it, we had left the never to be forgotten Clam river, and 
 entered upon broad, strange waters. We bade a final adieu to 
 the most tortuous, the most romantic and beautiful stream of the 
 Northwest, after floating upon its crystal waters, or resting upon 
 its charming shores for some eight days. 
 
 The St. Croix we found, as far above and as far below as the 
 eye could reach, a broad, swift river, nearly half a mile in width. 
 Its size, at so great a distance toward its source was a matter of 
 the greatest wonder to us — it being greatly wider and more ma- 
 jestic here than it was toward its junction with the Mississippi. 
 We ran down six miles, to the mouth of Sandy river, passing 
 four large and beautiful islands on the way. 
 
 It will be remembered that I mentioned that Sandy river was 
 the point at which we had been informed there were, to use the 
 
ODD HOURS. 171 
 
 language of our informant, "everlasting slithereens of deer." 
 We found upon arriving at the mouth of this stream, which came 
 in from the Minnesota side, that it was a swift little river, not 
 wholly unlike the south fork of the "Clam," yet not nearly as 
 pretty, whilst the adjacent country was composed of pine ridges, 
 tamarack swamps and popple thickets. We at once began the 
 ascent of this stream, leaving the St. Croix behind us. We only 
 went up a mile or so, however, when we found it too difficult a 
 task, and beside, we did not care to go farther than to get well 
 into the "celebrated deer range." Selecting the best place to be 
 found for camping — which was what professional hunters would 
 call "a mighty hairy place," at best — we proceeded to unload 
 our cargo, haul our effects up an almost perpendicular bank, 
 by ropes, clear aw'ay the brush with our hatchet and axe for the 
 tent and fireplace, as well as a place in which to pile up our deer 
 as we would drag them into camp. We took a great deal of pains 
 to put everything into the best possible shape for a three days' 
 stay among the white-tailed monarchs of this wildest of all wild 
 places, and by noon everything was in perfect order, and a good 
 meal was partaken of. 
 
 It was agreed that we should put the camp into a secure con- 
 dition — so that the deer might not tramp things to pieces in our 
 absence — and take as much of a turn around through the coun- 
 try as possible during the afternoon and lay out the ground best 
 adapted to deer slaughtering, and also ascertain about what quan- 
 tity of venison might be relied upon in a given number of hours 
 of good, professional deer-seeking. Leaving our heavy clothing 
 in camp, buckling on our arsenal and loading our fuzees, we pro- 
 ceeded into the contiguous wilderness. We silently, but swiftly, 
 hunted ridge and hollow, swamp and thicket, for a circuit of some 
 six miles. By the time the sun was passing below the brush-tops 
 in the west, we had become amazed to find how many deer there 
 might have been in that ' ' famous deer range ' ' at some remote 
 period in the history of the creation — co-existent, probably, with 
 the pre-historic Mound Builders — and also to contemplate upon 
 the thousands of deer in the world that were not there at the date 
 of our visit. In our six or eight miles of travel we saw but one 
 or two " deer signs," and even they had been petrified by the 
 hand of Time. At a late hour we sat our compass for camp, and 
 
172 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 in Indian file, made one of the straightest lines possible for that 
 friendly asylum, where we might wreak revenge on salt pork and 
 cold beans. 
 
 I scarcely remember which it was who spoke first that even- 
 ing, but when our respective talking machines did begin business 
 the men who recommended us to that ' ' celebrated deer range ' ' 
 would have trembled — for either us or themselves — had they been 
 within hearing distance of Camp Bear-paw. 
 
 Will, got out his pipe and lighted his cubebs, and remarked 
 that the Atlantic ocean had as many deer in it as that country 
 had, or ever had, according to his mind, though he didn't claim 
 to know so verj' much about good deer ranges. The Rector was 
 sure there must be something in that region, or else what could 
 it be for ; nothing was made in vain, even if everj^ appearance 
 was against it, as in the present instance. The historian thought 
 there was one reason, alone, which precluded the possibilitj' of 
 there ever having been anj' dear there : If one ever did get into 
 that section of the country, it would get lost and die of starva- 
 tion. Then we told a couple of nice stories and went to bed. 
 
 Sweet sleep soon came to us, and we sat around great festive 
 boards, where smoking haunches of savory deer -meat were being 
 served in six or eight different languages, the whole being pre- 
 sided over by a stately stag, with horns having a spread of at least 
 seven feet. I imagine it was the cold beans did that. 
 
 About the middle of that night something happened — or took 
 place, as the case might be. As usual, it was the writer who be- 
 gan noticing the occurrence first. I quietly reached over Will. — 
 who always slept in the middle — and punched the Rector in the 
 ribs. He raised up on his elbow and, with bated breath, inquired 
 what was the matter, and I telephoned back that that was just 
 what I'd like to know myself. At this, Will, sat up and felt for 
 both of us, and whispered, "There must be something up." I 
 said he was right ; that something or other had been smelling of 
 my ear, under the edge of the tent — that it was an unwarranted 
 liberty, without first having had an introduction,, and that it was 
 a strong "smeller," too. Then all listened, as the pans and ket- 
 tles outside began playing hop-skotch about the premises. Sure 
 enough, it was a " big thing." It walked about as if it weighed 
 a ton, and seemed to be making itself quite at home about the 
 
ODD HOURS. 173 
 
 back kitchen in the front yard. We all felt quietly for our guns 
 and then elected Will, to untie the tent door, while the Rector 
 and the writer were to rush the enemy— the Rector, of course, 
 to rush first, while I would bring up the reserve column and be 
 *' in at the death." 
 
 We sallied forth into the yard (halting, to-be-sure, very close 
 to the door, not wishing to step on him in the dark, and hurt 
 him), and gave great elasticity to our necks, as we peered this 
 way and that way in the dark, trying to locate the enemy. For 
 a moment not a sound could be heard ; then, as if making one 
 grand rush for liberty, the animal — a big black bear — sprang out 
 through the dry brush, from behind the tent. Our first impulse 
 was to run into the tent and hide, although soon thinking better 
 of it, we swung to rear and were about ready to send a volley in 
 his direction, when it was too evident that it would only be pow- 
 der wasted ; so, we didn't do a thing to his bearship, and thus the 
 sanguinary conflict ended just before it begun. 
 
 When we felt sure he was safely off, we became very indig- 
 nant, and were sure that if he dared return, we should go right 
 out and make real mince-meat of him. Thus we told each other 
 how we craved a row with a bear or any other animal, until the 
 howls of a couple of wolves came to our ears from across the little 
 stream, when we tied the tent door up very tightly and snuggled 
 into bed again, each one contending that it was his turn to sleep 
 in the middle. 
 
 At earliest dawn we arose, and whilst the bright' ning morning 
 was yet white with frost, three brave explorers might have been 
 observed closely scanning the floor of their front kitchen for bear 
 tracks. No very well-defined prints were discoverable, however, 
 and so we proceeded to build a fire and cook breakfast. During 
 the meal it was decided, that as it was deer we were hunting — 
 and that as we hadn't lost any bears or wolves — we would aban- 
 don that deerless precinct forthwith. After a hearty meal, we 
 packed up our effects very carefully, and by 8 o'clock turned our 
 prow down the little river, to again enter the St. Croix, and be- 
 gin our first regular day's run upon its wide, placid waters. 
 
 Just as the morning sun was peeping over the eastern hills, 
 throwing his mellow pink tints athwart the water, our pretty lit- 
 tle ship floated gracefully out upon the glassy bosom of the big 
 
174 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 river, whose every beautiful bend was a new prospect, and eager- 
 ly scanned by the three bear — beg pardon— deer hunters. Our 
 spirits were buoyant, because we had left a very uninteresting 
 camp — Camp Bear-paw — because the morning was one of Auro- 
 ra's rarest gems, and because we supposed our voyage would now 
 be uninterrupted by savage and dangerous rapids until the neigh- 
 borhood of Taylor's Falls was reached, at least. So, we chatted, 
 laughed, sang and told stories — many of them were becoming tol- 
 erably gray with age, the younger ones having become pretty well 
 exhausted — and leisurely rowed on a quick current down the ma- 
 jestic, pretty river. We were conscious of being surrounded by 
 the perfect freedom of a wild world, far from the confines of civ- 
 ilization, with all its cares, responsibilities, and social restrictions. 
 Thus, were two or three of the bracing morning hours passed, 
 when, upon turning a wide, sweeping bend, we not only saw, but 
 heard what made our hearts heavy — the white foam and roar of 
 rapids away down in the distance. Just before reaching them we 
 met an Indian, who had been sufficiently tarnished by civilization 
 o understand a trifle of the United States tongue, and to farther 
 prove his considerable contact with the superior(?) white race, he 
 besought us to give him some tobacco and whisky. We gave him 
 some of the former — which Will, had along, in case his cubebs 
 might " draw damp" — but in regard to the whisky, we gave him 
 to know that "white man" and "whisky" weren't synonimous 
 terms in all cases, though they might be as a rule. He replied, 
 " Ugh !" whatever that meant, but which he probably intended 
 should rhyme with "jug." 
 
 From this ' ' noble red man ' ' we made out to gather (he was 
 ascending the river in a birch canoe) that the rapids we were ap- 
 proaching was what was known as the "Kettle River rapids," 
 and that they were seven miles in length. Also, that there were, 
 at that stage of water, twenty to thirty other rapids to encounter 
 before reaching Taylor's Falls. I was never of a bloodthirsty tem- 
 perament, but, for the next few minutes I really did want to do 
 considerable violence to that contaminated redskin, to pay him 
 off for imparting to us such a measly batch of information. He 
 told us that in running this seven-mile rapids, we must keep to 
 the Wisconsin shore, all the way, as that was the best and safest 
 side to run. 
 
ODD HOURS. 175 
 
 *f his was a heartsome lot of information, to-be-sure ; a bril- 
 liant prospect was in store for us, certainly. I proposed to my 
 two companions that we give the boat to the poor, the cargo to 
 the Indian, and then walk home. That we had taken sufl&cient 
 risk among strange rapids ; that I loved a few rapids, but that I 
 wasn't a pig. Upon further thought, however, we determined to 
 navigate everything between there and home — still two hundred 
 miles away — barring only the Falls themselves, for the very good 
 and suflficient reason that to do so was the only way we ever could 
 get home, anyway. 
 
 Thanking the red son of the wilderness for his heart-satisfy- 
 ing information, we headed for the Wisconsin shore, and in half 
 an hour passed into the head of the seven-mile chain. We were 
 alternately shooting through dangerous channels, wading over 
 long, rocky shoals, dragging our boat after us toward deep water 
 which, when reached, all hands would climb in, and away we 
 would go, " bumpty-clatter," through another roaring chain. So 
 we kept it up for the long, weary, and of times perilous seven 
 miles. At one o'clock we had passed the mouth of Kettle river, 
 had cleared these seemingly endless series of roaring terrors, and 
 then landed for rest and refreshments. The labor and excitement 
 of that long forenoon had greatly wearied us all, and after eating 
 a cold dinner — save a hot cup of tea — we lay prone upon the earth 
 for two hours, to rest our weary limbs and dry our wet clothing 
 in the sun. 
 
 While we lay here, three men hove in sight, coming up the 
 river in a batteau. Upon espying us, they came and landed at 
 our resting-place. They proved to be lumbermen on their way 
 to make preliminary arrangements for establishing a lumber camp 
 for the winter, up on Bear river, the mouth of which was three 
 miles above, on the Minnesota side. They were the advance of 
 a grand crew who would follow a month or so later. They proved 
 to be sociable fellows, and sat down and chatted with us for half 
 an hour. From them we learned much about that region, its 
 streams, its lumbering sections, its relative position, and so on, and 
 particularly in regard to the character of the river yet ahead of 
 us. They agreed pretty well with the Indian, and said that at 
 that stage of water we should find numerous rapids, but no very 
 dangerous or diflScult ones until we neared the Falls, 
 
176 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 Among other things, they were delighted with our pretty 
 boat, and said they had never seen such a perfect model before ; 
 they were surprised to learn that we had come all the way from 
 Clam Falls, and asked many questions about that part of the 
 north-country. We told them of having been informed of two 
 different " famous deer ranges," and how, that very morning, we 
 had left the Sandy river deer thickets, and how there was not, in 
 our opinion, one deer to every fifty miles square of that whole sec- 
 tion of country. This set them agoing, along the deer line, and 
 they burst out in one voice, to the effect that it was not very 
 much wonder we didn't see any deer. They then proceeded to 
 inform us, in the most emphatic manner, that all the deer in that 
 entire region were to be found up on Bear river, whither they 
 were then going ; that we must turn right back and go with them, 
 and in the morning they would take us to a place where ' ' deer 
 were thicker than tinkers in Tophet. They said there were two 
 natural " deer-licks" (salt springs) up there, and that these ani- 
 mals were so numerous that they actually had to be numbered so 
 as to get a fair deal at the "licks " — or, that the deer had to have 
 meal-tickets, I forget which. At any rate, they declared that deer 
 could be seen sitting all around the woods in the vicinity of those 
 "licks," awaiting their turn, and the ground was literally torn 
 up all about these salt-licks by the impatient deer. By this time 
 I had got my sixteen-shooting rifle well in hand, my two compan- 
 ions were also near their guns, and then we told these men that 
 we bore them no ill-will and hoped that, for their own sake, they 
 would cease their recommendations along that line ; that they 
 were taking too many chances, particularly if they were married 
 men ; that we were not bad men, but that it was decidedly dan- 
 gerous for them to push the subject of ' ' grand deer ranges ' ' any 
 farther. They finally saw the drift of our intimations, and took 
 leave, whilst we sprang into our boat, shoved off, and soon these 
 garrulous men were left out of sight — they going up stream, and 
 we speeding on our downward course. 
 
 We only ran a few miles after leaving Kettle river rapids, but 
 the run was a dream of pleasure. Being weary with the day's 
 work and excitements, we went into camp at a place we called 
 Camp Prospect on the Minnesota side, and exactly opposite the 
 mouth of Wood river which came in from the Wisconsin shore. 
 
ODD HOURS. Ill 
 
 This was one of the most lovely of all our camps, and one we can 
 never forget, because of its peculiar beauty. Our camping spot 
 was a high, level plateau, covered all over with a handsome grove 
 of low-spreading oak trees, with a quick, grassy slope — after com- 
 ing within a few rods of the river — down to the water's edge. 
 The evening was one of the calmest, balmiest, loveliest, that ever 
 blessed the world ; and, in the early twilight, the great round, 
 silver moon floated up from the eastern horizon — exactly across 
 the river in front of our camp. The evening star soon followed 
 surrounded by her host of obedient courtiers, the whole perfectly 
 duplicated in the tranquil bosom of the clear, wide river before 
 us. It was an evening parade of the charms of both heaven and 
 earth, the like of which is viewed but a few times in a lifetime. 
 
 The night bade fair to be a frosty one, so it was suggested 
 that the wood-gleaner provide plenty of fuel for a brilliant camp- 
 fire, which I proceeded to do, while Will, and the Rector made 
 all things ready for a comfortable night, and prepared the supper. 
 There were only two things that marred the perfection of that 
 night, and these were, the Rector burned his finger in some hot 
 grease, and the wood-gleaner ran a small stick of wood under his 
 thumb-nail. Several stars went out about this time, and a tre- 
 mendous fish fell up out of the water, with a loud splash when he 
 fell back again, over near the mouth of Wood river. There was no 
 particular occasion for the fish falling out of the water, however, 
 nor for the stars going out ; because neither of us said so very 
 much, though the writer had an able-bodied thought or two, as to 
 splinters under one's thumb-nail. A well-basted duck and a pint 
 of good coffee for each of us, though, made everything very nice, 
 and as Will, lit up his cubebs after supper I noticed that the agi- 
 tated stars had settled down again, and shown down upon us 
 with their wonted and steady splendor. We sat late in front of 
 our glowing campfire, telling all we knew to one another, or sil- 
 ently drawing (each his own), pictures in the embers of the fire, 
 and at last ' * snuggled into bed ' ' in our little tented home. 
 
 The following morning was a fit successor of the night pre- 
 ceding it. Though it was a cold, crisp morning, with hoar-frost 
 whitening everything, the beautiful god of day rose in all his im- 
 posing, late-September majesty, and gradually warmed again all 
 things into life. We built a monster fire in the early gray of 
 
178 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 morning, and by the time our breakfast hour had Come we had £i 
 royal bed of coals over which our chief cook could exercise his 
 caterer's skill. 
 
 While the Rector was broiling us a trio of fat partridges over 
 the coals, Will, and I busied ourselves with shooting a day's sup- 
 ply of the swift-flying ducks that came down the river with a 
 whiz-z-z and a whir — flying low and well in-shore, under the fog 
 that had risen over the water. We bagged thirteen fine ones ere 
 the sun had risen, and only desisted when the Rector, in a voice 
 the farthest remove from a whisper, informed us that unless we 
 came to breakfast, he would eat all the partridges and drink all 
 the coffee — which sent out its rich aroma on the morning air of 
 that lonely yet lovely spot. This information was a settler, and 
 ended our sport ; because, we would fight sooner for a luscious 
 game breakfast than we would for our homes and firesides, our 
 sire&, or anything else ; our appetites were as keen as the crisp air, 
 so we adjourned to the meal in waiting, and informed the Rector 
 that when he talked of eating our share of the toothsome game, 
 he aroused a spirit in us that wouldn't bear trifling with. 
 
 Just as we reached the tent, we " felt a noise " off to the rear 
 of the camp, and upon looking in the direction, we beheld a stal- 
 wart Indian approaching. He came promptly forward, and we 
 said, " Good morning, Mr. good Chippewa ! " He remarked, in 
 return, " Boo-zhoo ! " We told him we had no " boo-zhoo " on 
 tap just then, but thought the Rector might stir him up a little 
 " boo-yaw," on a pinch, if that would serve his turn just as well. 
 He didn't seem to catch the joke, but smiled a grim, wild grin, 
 and drew nigh and warmed his shivering personality, a-s he cast a 
 fitful glance about at our tent and comfortable outfit. He was 
 dressed in all the usual fuss and feather of the wild Indian, with 
 the addition of a vari-colored patched bed-quilt in place of an In- 
 dian blanket, which he wore about him ; probably it was one he 
 had captured in some brave conflict with a frontier woman and 
 her children, though if he bad any scalps, he must have had them 
 in his pocket. His eyes fairly glared as he beheld our smoking 
 kettles, and the bountiful breakfast spread upon a rubber blanket 
 on the ground, and. we saw at a glance that he was very hungry, 
 even for an Indian. . I spoke to him in the Sioux tongue, for I 
 knew that most of the older Chippewas could understand more or 
 
ODD HOURS. 179 
 
 less of the language of their time-honored enemies, and as I could 
 remember a little bit of Sioux, but knew not a word of Chippewa. 
 I asked him who he was. He said he was a good Indian (not a 
 doubt of it) and a chief, and that he hadn't eaten anything for a 
 "whole lot of a while" (or words to that effect), except two raw 
 fish ; that he was on his way across the country to his own band, 
 which he expected to meet on the headwaters of the Snake river, 
 a day's journey farther on. We invited him to join us at break- 
 fast, which he most readily acceded to — he would have been a 
 funny Indian had he declined. Having considerable curiosity, we 
 noted what he ate, as well as kept his tin plate well supplied dur- 
 ing the meal. He ate four large potatoes, nearly a pound of salt 
 pork, a plate of soda crackers, a lot of canned beef, a teacup of 
 pork-fryings, drank two pints of coffee, and topped off on several 
 minor items. He came mighty near eating us " out of house and 
 home," and Will, intimated several times during the process of 
 filling up this hungry savage, that he had better be either choked 
 off or killed — else there would be a ''goneness" in our larder 
 that would, in all its essential features, resemble a Chinese fam- 
 ine. At last, however, our distinguished guest intimated that he 
 was the same thing as full, and we felt greatly relieved, as he 
 stood up before the fire and chafed his stomach with much appar- 
 ent satisfaction. We feared lest he might explode ; but he stood 
 the pressure, and grunted occasionally, as if to say, " That was a 
 much good feast." I asked him his name, and he said it was 
 "Es-wah-ou-gaw-bee." This, we took it, when translated into 
 United States, must mean, "The-man-who-isn't-afraid-of-his- 
 stomach." After standing about our fire until he became suffi- 
 ciently limbered up to be able to walk, he grunted a brief adieu, 
 and then disappeared in the forest. 
 
 We left beautiful Camp Prospect at about 8 o'clock expect- 
 ing that, unless delayed by rapids, to reach the neighborhood of 
 Taylors Falls by night, some fifty miles below ; but, owing to the 
 facts that the distance was considerably greater than we supposed, 
 and a portion of the river very difficult, we camped the following 
 night at what we called Camp Beauty — which vied with our last 
 camp in its rare attractions, though its charms were of a different 
 character — twenty miles above the Falls. The river, in its long 
 stretches between the rapids, during the day, proved to be the 
 
i8o UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 most magnificent of any large stream I ever before navigated. 
 Ever and anon, along its romantic and at times rugged shores, 
 a beautiful waterfall of greater or less magnitude, would come 
 tumbling over high, moss-covered and fern -hidden crags, laugh- 
 ing, and leaping, and sparkling like silver ribbons with diamond 
 spray-drops in the mellow autumn sunshine. The number of 
 these pretty cascades and waterfalls amazed us, and their varied 
 beauty, with the broad river, and the autumn-tinted valley made 
 it a fairy land of enchanting loveliness : 
 
 ' ' The sounding cataract 
 Haunted me like a passion ; the tall rock, 
 The mountain, and the deep and glossy wood, 
 Their colors and their form were then to me 
 An appetite, a feeling, and a love." 
 About noon we came to the first well-defined settlement, and 
 from that time forward we found more or less settlers along the 
 valley, with good starts made in the way of farms and comforta- 
 ble homes. Their nationality, for the most part, was Swedish. 
 
 We went into camp quite late, and a mile above it, we landed 
 at the place of a settler, and Will, was delegated to interview 
 the people on the subject of milk, bread, and butter. After a lit- 
 tle time, the Rector and I also sauntered up to the place, where 
 we found Will, negotiating with the rather elderly lady in charge, 
 whilst we were welcomed by an old man whom we afterward 
 learned, was a noted character in that region. He must have 
 been nearly seven feet in his stockings, straight as an Indian, his 
 sandy hair and whiskers mixed plentifully with gray, with small 
 sharp eyes ; he said he was eighty-odd years old, and had been 
 a tough customer to handle in his day. " And, boys," said he, 
 as he straightened up in front of us, "I ain't afeard of no man 
 as runs these parts right now — do you understand that, boys?" 
 We assured him that we did comprehend the drift of his remarks, 
 and assured him we had no inclination to test his power of mus- 
 cle. "No, boys," he continued, "if there was any excuse that 
 I could lay hold onto, a ten-acre field full o' such runts as you 
 three chaps, wouldn't make a breakfast job for me, right now — 
 do you hear me, boys?" We assured the old citizen that we did 
 hear him very distinctly ; and furthermore, that we were orphans 
 and far from home, and weren't hunting for any kind of trouble. 
 
ODD HOURS. 1 81 
 
 "Well, boys," he continued, "you must kind o' excuse me, but 
 I al'ays liked to fight better 'n to eat, an' when I see ' the boys 
 around, it kinder of remin's me of the fun of other days, an' fui 
 a minit or two I want to get my ban's on 'em again. You're a 
 purty decent lookin' lot, an' if the ole woman has any 'grub' 
 5'e mout want, it's all right." 
 
 Just then, I looked through the kitchen door and overheard 
 the old lady remark to Will. , who was negotiating for supplies : 
 " Yer think that's too much fur that there bread, do yer?" Then 
 Will, replied : " Madam, if I were to express my candid convic- 
 tion, I should say it was a very remunerative price at which to 
 deal out the 'staff of life.' " "Well," she said, "you just look 
 at them there old hands, and see if you think that's too much;" 
 and I saw her two hands held up, for Will's inspection, just past 
 the door-jamb. The result of the examination seeemed to be con- 
 vincing, to judge from Will's next remarks : "All right. Madam, 
 I take it all back ; the price is reasonable — here's jour money for 
 the whole lot. Good evening." Then we bade the old man good- 
 bye, and soon we were shooting a chain of rapids just below, and 
 after crossing them we swung around a beautiful point on the 
 Minnesota side, and went into camp for the night at what we 
 named Camp Beauty. At this camp we enjoyed one of the finest 
 nights of our trip, and one of the most lovely sunrises, on the fol- 
 lowing morning, and we left its rare comforts with regret, to en- 
 counter the expected difficulties of the day. 
 
 From here on, the river grew very difficult ; not only did the 
 rapids increase in number, but also in danger — as we drew closer 
 to the impossible series of rapids that lay for two or three miles 
 all along above the mile-long Falls, proper. We ran everything 
 we encountered, up to about ten o'clock, when we came to a very 
 long and savage stretch of water. We landed, and while discuss- 
 ing the trouble ahead, a young man came down in a dugout ; see- 
 ing us in council, he landed, and inquired if we were strangers in 
 those waters, and whether we wished to pass on below. Being 
 affirmatively assured upon both points, he said he knew the river 
 perfectly, and although he noticed that our boat was voxy heavily 
 laden, he thought that if we would follow him — he was going 
 down three miles farther to meet a surveying party — he could 
 guide us through as far as he went. "But," said he, "your 
 
1 82 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 safety depends entirely upon your being able to keep your fine 
 little boat exactly in the channel I run, as the trip through is, 
 at best, an ugly one." Of course, as there seemed to be no altern- 
 ative, we thanked him, and told him we should attempt the pas- 
 sage, as his course might dictate. So saying, he pulled out into 
 the stream, with many a caution that we must follow him closely, 
 or hidden rocks would be encountered — especially in the last two 
 chains through which we would pass — and nothing less than des- 
 truction would follow. 
 
 After getting well out into the stream, he straightened his 
 little bark preparatory to making the run of half a mile over the 
 first chain, and we followed exactly in his wake. We found our 
 heavily laden boat harder to turn, in the many angles, than his, 
 yet by a close watch and tight muscles we kept in the tortuous 
 channel through the first half-mile chain. Here our volunteer 
 guide came along side, and said that after passing two more still 
 worse chains he would leave us ; and after that we must not at- 
 tempt to run any more ; that a year before, seven lumbermen — 
 the best of rivermen, and who knew the channels perfectly — had 
 attempted to run, in a batteau, over a couple of the chains just 
 below where he v/ould leave us, and three of them lost their lives. 
 Will., being good in figures, estimated that if three was the toll 
 exacted by those two rapids, it would exactly wipe out our party 
 to attempt them. Hence, it was agreed that if we got through 
 the next two in safety, under the leadership of our fortunately 
 discovered young friend, we should procure a team and portage 
 around to the town of Taylor's Falls, below all these impossible 
 rapids, which would bring us to pleasant waters for all the rest 
 of our long journey homeward. 
 
 We now neared the next chain, which we found to be indeed 
 a flood — and even the second one was in sight in the distance be- 
 low. Our guide, still again cautioning us to keep close in his 
 wake, and to keep our boat under perfect control every instant, 
 shot ahead, and we were soon among the seething waters. It was 
 one of the most exciting epochs in our lives ; and the sensations 
 of excitement — bordering upon terror — can only be realized by 
 a person who has been there. Without undertaking to give the 
 details of the headlong plungings, narrow escapes from being 
 either dashed in pieces or overturned by the rocks, I would simply 
 
ODD HOURS. 183 
 
 say that we went through and came out with our lives — thanks 
 to Providence — and with but trifling damage to our gallant little 
 ship, though the labor and excitemen of it all, left us limp as 
 rags for a long time afterward. 
 
 As we came scooting through the foam below the last one we 
 could not help taking off our hats and giving vent to a lusty cheer 
 and thanking, again and again, the noble young fellow who had 
 so kindly volunteered to lead the way. Had we undertaken the 
 passage of the last three, without the aid of his knowledge, we 
 should have, in all probability, been lost. He waved his hat, 
 turned to the left, and soon disappeared up a neighboring bayou, 
 where he expected to join his party. We ran into a bend on the 
 Wisconsin shore, where the road almost touched the river, and 
 landed. Procuring a team, with but little trouble, we portaged 
 our boat and outfit to Taylor's Falls, where an hour or two was 
 spent in procuring the clothing we had left at the Dalles House, 
 getting our letters from home, adding something to our commis- 
 sary department, and in a visit to the wonderful natural wells in 
 the vicinity, under the guidance of the very clever editor of the 
 Taylor's Fall's Journal — Mr. Folsom. 
 
 As many of my readers know, the village of Taylor's Falls 
 stands on the Minnesota side, at the head of the famous Dalles of 
 the St. Croix, and just at the foot of the Falls of the St. Croix— 
 which latter are but little more than a series of impassable rapids 
 which terminate in a roaring downpour and leap into the gorge of 
 the Dalles at this point. These Dalles are a couple of miles or so 
 in length, only, but their grandeur certainly entitle them to the 
 celebrity they have won, especially when considered in connection 
 with the other natural wonders in their immediate neighborhood. 
 The river, after leaving the Dalles, assumes from there to its con- 
 fluence with the Mississippi at Prescott, a rather commonplace 
 character, comparatively speaking, though it is by no means bar- 
 ren of interest. 
 
 One of the most wonderful freaks of Nature to be seen in the 
 vicinity are the ' ' natural wells ' ' which are eight or ten in num- 
 ber, and almost within a stone's throw of the business center of 
 the village. Though our time had grown to be somewhat pre- 
 cious, we could not resist the temptation of visiting them ; and, 
 with Mr. Folsom as our guide, we took a brisk walk down to the 
 
i84 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 foot of the main street, thence by the most rugged of pathways 
 we turned to the right, going out through and over a high rocky 
 promontory in the direction of the river. This w^hole promontory 
 and a vast deal more of the neighborhood, is the result of a grand 
 upheaval at some period in the history of the world, which liter- 
 ally burst the granite beds below, flinging the great blocks — from 
 the size of a bushel-measure to that of a large house — into piles 
 and ridges, in the most utter confusion possible to imagine. The 
 terrific upheaval left deep gorges, causways and heights, grandly 
 picturesque. Our pathways — by the aid of rustic foot-bridges 
 and ladders that had been erected — led us up and down through 
 the most wonderful passages, retreats and grottos. 
 
 The wells are immense circular holes, drilled by the ceaseless 
 rolling 'round and 'round — forever 'round — of granite boulders, 
 under the power of savage whirlpools that for ages held high 
 carnival above this granite bed — probably w^hen the St. Croix and 
 Mississippi valleys were the outlet of the " great lakes." These 
 wells were thus drilled until a depth of thirty feet had been 
 reached in some of them, while others were not more than fifteen 
 or tw^enty feet deep — the sizes in other respects being in propor- 
 tion — drilled out by the never-ceasing roll of a harder rock down 
 into the solid granite, round and smooth. Several of these wells, 
 the deeper ones, were full of rain-water, like cisterns. Some of 
 the shallower ones, and one large one, were dry, and the manner 
 of their creation could be seen and studied. They are ten to fif- 
 teen feet across at the top, and grow slightly and gradually larger 
 as they go down — sort of jug-shape. From one of them w^as taken 
 the hard, round rock that had been used by the whirlpool of old, 
 in "digging" the well; it had been worn down, in its ages of 
 ceaseless rounds, to about the size of one's head, and w^as slightlj^ 
 egg-shaped. At the bottom of one of the large wells, the stone 
 that had bored it, wore through, at last, at one side of the bot- 
 tom, into a side gorge, and had rolled away through the aperture 
 it made for its own release. We went by tortuous paths to the 
 bottom of the gorge, thence into the well by crawling through 
 the hole where the boring-stone had escaped ; we could stand and 
 Ipok up through the mouth of the monster jug to the blue sky 
 above, and examine the smooth, stone-ground wall. 
 
 Thanking our generous guide, we repaired to our waiting 
 
ODD HOURS. 185 
 
 l)oat, passed down through the magnificent dalles, and four miles 
 T^elow went into camp at what we called Camp Farewell — ' ' fare- 
 well," because, upon reaching Stillwater next day, the writer 
 would leave his two companions and proceed homeward by rail, 
 while they would continue on by river, and stop a few days at 
 the head of Lake Pepin to enjoy the shooting, not far from home. 
 We enjoyed our last camp together — recounting the scenes 
 and experiences of our long and arduous "voyage." The next 
 evening we reached Stillwater, spending our noonday hour at the 
 beautiful Osceola Falls, which are formed by a lovely brook on 
 the uplands taking a leap of a hundred feet over the precipice and 
 landing a few rods from the river's shore. 
 
 At Camp Farewell we witnessed the strangest phenomenon, 
 as I may term it, of the whole trip — or any other trip, for that 
 matter. It was the scores of thousands of beautiful white butter- 
 flies — seeming, in the light of our big campfire, like an endless 
 host of tiny fairies, coming in from the black depths of the night 
 that hemmed us ' round. They came from every side in endless 
 thousands, and would pour themselves, in a perpetual, funnel- 
 formed mass into the great fire — each one seeming to vie with all 
 the others in getting in first. Hundreds that would only have 
 their wings disabled, and fall to the ground at a distance from the 
 fire, would struggle along on the ground toward the fire, crawl- 
 ing directly into the red coals to be consumed. We could but 
 gaze upon the extraordinary scene in awe, until a late hour, and 
 when we retired to our tent they still came to their funeral pyre 
 in undiminished thousands — untilthe pyre's bright flames had 
 T^een swallowed up by the night. The wonderful sight brought 
 to mind the lines — 
 
 '* Thus the fond moth 'round the taper plays. 
 
 And sports and flutters near the treacherous blaze ; 
 
 Ravished with joy, he wings his eager flight, 
 
 Nor dreams of ruin in so clear a light ; 
 
 He tempts his fate, and courts a glorious doom, 
 
 A bright destruction and a shining tomb." 
 This scene, however, was a wholesale transaction in the line 
 of the poet's thought. 
 
STRAWS OF HUMOR. 
 
 " Humor is One of the Most 
 
 Important Elements of Life. ' ' 
 
 BEING FUNNY. 
 
 EVER strive to be witty, young man, unless sure you 
 [^ can make a success of it ; for, an attempt at wit, fol- 
 lowed by failure, is very hiimiliating indeed. Most 
 young persons— particularly young men— have a great 
 desire to appear as "wits;" to appear as possessing 
 brighter intellects than those around them — to be a 
 ^ trifle smarter than anybody else, in fact. To wish to 
 become a Mark Twain, an Artemus Ward, a Nasby or 
 a Josh Billings; is an object praiseworthy enough ; and 
 it is all right to try yourself a little, for the purpose of finding 
 out whether you possess the elements of a wit, or a humorous 
 writer ; nevertheless, all your tests should be conducted strictly 
 in private, for a considerable length of time, and the tests should 
 be made very severe. Up in a hay-loft, or down in a secluded 
 comer of a coal-cellar, or in some retired part of a goose-pasture 
 can be reckoned on as safe localities in which to begin. When- 
 ever you imagine you have ' ' struck a good thing,' ' Just retire to 
 your retreat and commence developing it ; repeat it over a num- 
 ber of times, exactly as it first came into your mind, and if you 
 have to laugh every time you say it over, you can note progress ; 
 and if, after repeating it over a hundred times, you laugh still 
 more heartily every time, then you may consider it a fair speci- 
 men of humor, out of which a four-line joke may sometime be 
 "panned ;" and if, in addition to this, you dream about it every 
 
ODD HOURS. 187 
 
 Tiiglit, for a month, so that you have to get up out of bed and 
 laugh until your sides ache, ending in a violent fit of hiccoughs, 
 it will then be safe to write it out privately, and put it carefully 
 away — where no one will find it — for future reference. But, too 
 much care cannot be taken to keep your jokes and you future in- 
 tentions to yourself, lest you be ridiculed, and become discour- 
 aged from having your sensibilities hurt— your ambition drowned 
 in icewater, thrown by ruthless, and mayhap, envious hands. 
 
 After you have accumulated several thousand " good things," 
 from which to draw in emergencies during your future career as 
 a humorist — for, once funny, always funny, obtains in the life of 
 a " funny man " — you may venture to offer some of the best sam- 
 ples for publication in the village paper — just to " help the editor 
 fill up his paper," you know — provided it has but a small circu- 
 lation ; for, you must be careful not to gain too much publicity 
 at first, so that if your effort is badly received, there will not be 
 many to receive it. After this trial, let nature take its course ; 
 and, if you are not too thin-skinned, and can stand plenty of real 
 solid grief, you will doubtless succeed in attracting some public 
 attention, and favorable comment by the press, by the time you 
 Teach an age when your head will resemble a soap-bubble ; the 
 members of the press rarely refuse to say something rather nice 
 about an old man whom they suppose will soon become the chief 
 attraction at a funeral. It is, by comparison, a very simple prop- 
 osition, intellectually speaking, to become a governor or a mem- 
 ber of congress, but you should weigh the chances very carefully 
 before aspiring to the exalted position of a humorist. We feel 
 all this, because we have been there. During our own "infant 
 manhood * ' we accumulated a few of what we imagined were very 
 clever pieces of humor ; we looked forward through rose-tinted 
 glasses to the time when we should set the whole English-speak- 
 ing world a-giggle — we don't speak German. We figured on 
 opening up the floodgates of our humorous nature and inundating 
 a gloom-saturated world with a flood of ** uproarious laughter." 
 The choicest bit was submitted to an editor of high attainments ; 
 he read it through patiently, and then turned to the culprit and 
 asked if the article was intended to be a humorous production ; 
 we nodded our guilt, when he said : " Young man, you wouldn't 
 make a humorous writer, if you lived to the age of a thousand 
 
1 88 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 years, and worked ten hours a day at nothing else — if this is ff 
 fair sample of your talent in that direction." That settled our 
 "humorous " ambition. By a heroic physical effort we succeeded 
 in reaching the door — which seemed about five miles off, with a 
 bad road — and went out into the wintry air to cool off. We felt 
 of our head, when, sure enough, what we had mistaken for our 
 ' ' bump of wit ' ' was nothing more nor less than a yawning hol- 
 low, instead of an able-bodied protuberance. We have never 
 since attempeted to write anything more laughable than an epi- 
 taph for the tomb-stone of a man who " never paid the printer. "^ 
 These, we write passably well. 
 
 THE PREACHER'S VISIT. 
 
 It is probable that most middle-aged people who were reared 
 in the rural "deestricts" of the old eastern states, can call to 
 mind that longest-to-be-remembered event, in the days of their 
 boyhood — the preacher's visit to the home of their parents. It 
 was the event of the season, when the preacher would notify Dea- 
 con So-and-so, that upon the occasion of his next monthly visita- 
 tion to fill the pulpit of the neighborhood meeting-house he would 
 make the Deacon's house his home — "no preventing providence 
 — Amen !" 
 
 Though it might be in the very center of the harvest season, 
 the atmosphere in and about the Deacon's home would become, 
 first cool, then cold, and then freezing, as the time for the event 
 drew nigh, and when the time finally arrived, the boys of the 
 household would feel like as if they were ready to be cut up, and 
 sold by the stick . 
 
 Take an old-school Presbyterian preacher, of twenty years' 
 " practice," and in the particular age to which we refer, and if 
 he couldn't freeze a midsummer sunbeam into an icicle in a min- 
 ute and a half, then it was counted that there was a screw loose 
 somewhere, and that he wasn't "fitted up" for a shepherd of the 
 particular quality of lambs common to to those virtuous interior 
 "deestricts." 
 
 How well we remember the periodical visits of good old Par- 
 son Gildersleeve at the home of our boyhood. He was a model 
 preacher of that day and locality. His consistency was of the 
 
ODD HOURS. 189 
 
 purest water — he was utterly without a fault as a preacher of the 
 time. In his makeup had been used, old colonial dignity, reserve, 
 religion and ice, in about equal parts, and all these had become 
 thoroughly amalgamated and " set " by two decades of service 
 in the oldest branch of old-school Presbyterianism. 
 
 Of course, his sermons were pretty much all alike (in length 
 exactly so), and extended from firstly to twenty-eighthl}-, aside 
 from four to six " in conclusions. We never knew any one who 
 could remain awake long enough to hear the whole sermon, at 
 any one sitting — many dozing off into a comfortable nap right in 
 the middle of the section bearing particularly upon the brimstone 
 prospect for all those who heeded the Word heedlessly. 
 
 The good wife of the Deacon always had the house in perfect 
 order — the spare bed and bedroom was spotless and well aired — 
 days before the arrival of the saint-like guest, and a general, like- 
 wise a detailed, code was announced to the numerous famil}', as 
 to their behavior whilst the momentous occasion was " on." Ev- 
 ery member of the domestic flock was rehearsed in their respec- 
 tive parts, and a general impression given to all, that if the least 
 digression from the rules of conduct laid down during the stay of 
 the holy man that, as a matter of course, the sin would be a well- 
 nigh indellible one. 
 
 On the day of his expected arrival, cautious heads could be 
 seen peering out from behind some breastwork, gazing down the 
 lane to catch sight of the "advance." Punctuality was one of 
 the virtues of those virtuous days, and in due time the tall, gaunt 
 figure or the preacher would be seen in the distance as, sitting 
 bolt-upright on his bony old horse, he would draw nigh. The 
 old mare was of no particular color, just a somber shade, and her 
 countenance was also sad and serious, as became her position. 
 The good man's dress, from the tall napless hat down to his well 
 greased boots, gave evidence of having seen several decades of 
 service, both by their style and thread -bareness, and the trowseis 
 were badly bagged at the knee. A starched "dickey" covered 
 the front of his homespun shirt, his neck encased in a high black 
 " stock " which was so high and iron-clad as to prevent the turn- 
 ing of the head, even had his profession permitted the wagging 
 of that important member. 
 
 Arriving at the bars leading into the yard, the host would 
 
I90 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 greet him in so respectful a way that it was next to silence itself, 
 take off the saddle-bags — usually containing an extra " dickey," 
 a few jammed doughnuts, a bible, and half a dozen well-thumbed 
 hymn-books in one end, and a suflScient weight of religious tracts 
 in the other to balance the weight of the dickey and doughnut 
 end. Then the procession of two would proceed to the house, the 
 preacher leading. Jonathan Edward, as he had been previously 
 instructed to do, would lead the sacred mare to the bam, divest 
 her of saddle and bridle, give her water, half a bushel of oats 
 (that was the kind of a corn -crib she was), and "bed her down " 
 in selected straw clear to the end of her precious old wisp-tail. 
 
 The decorum of that household during the sojourn of ' ' the 
 head of the church ' ' was a spectacle of precision and frigidity 
 second only to some scene that was more so, and was calculated 
 to destroy a boy who had a great big chunk of left-over fun inside 
 of him. 
 
 A sedate supper of raised-biscuit, butter, tea, and goose-berry 
 jam, with the bulk of the family in the background, then family 
 pra\'ers and hymn-singing by the aggregation of discords, followed 
 by a silent retirement of the whole force. The next day, being 
 the Sabbath, the family, headed by the preacher, started for the 
 church on foot, at a seasonable hour. The morning service lasted 
 three hours; then Sabbath -school, then a luncheon of doughnuts 
 around on the rail-fences ; then a sermon of great power — at least 
 in length — then home to a cold supper — cold, because cooking 
 was not permitted on the Sabbath-day — and to feed the stock. 
 Then all attended the two-hour prayer-meeting in the evening. 
 
 On Monday morning the dear old parson would pronounce a 
 general blessing on the Deacon's household, crawl up to the up- 
 per deck of the demure " old bones," and gradually bump him- 
 self out of sight down the lane. Then, things would once more 
 assume their normal condition about the place, and the boys 
 would find exquisite joy in the hard work of the farm for a long 
 time afterward. Such a " bringin' up" gives boys something to 
 think about all their lives througfh. 
 
 THE JOYS OF PICNICING. 
 When our young folk want to have a real good time, they 
 
ODD HOURS. 191 
 
 go on a picnic, and so do many of our older folk, too. We our- 
 self caught the picnic fever a few dajs ago, and went. Arriving 
 at " the prettiest spot on the face of the earth," of course, we all 
 prepared to enjoy the immeasurable glory of a first-class picnic. 
 Our party landed the two boats, took the hampers, baskets, ice, 
 buckets of spring-water, lemons, and all the rest of it, up the hill 
 to the beautiful grove, and camped down among the bluebells, 
 buttercups, honeysuckles, and fragrant dandelions, in the shade 
 of the beautiful trees. It was too early in the day to ' ' eat the 
 picnic," and so, in order to kill time, most of us went out to 
 gather ferns and things. No picnic is quite right unless you say 
 a good deal about how refined it is to be a lover of ferns, and how 
 you love, above everything else, to "go a'ferning" and have 
 ferneries about your home, with ferns that you gathered with 
 your very own perspiring hands. Some of the party, however, 
 remained in camp and read poetry — reading aloud and sawing the 
 air with gestures, putting in all the flourishes allowed by the laws 
 of elocution, and more too, if they felt like it. Not being partic- 
 ularly in love with verse, we proved our refinement by joining the 
 fern-gatherers. The truth is, we don't know a fern from a red- 
 oak bush, and care a great deal less ; but we hunted ferns with a 
 commendable zeal, just the same. After prowling about through 
 the tanglewood of brush and nettles for a time, looking for some 
 weed that would correspond with our idea of what a fern ought 
 to be, we struck it. That is, we stooped down to gather a clump 
 of vegetation that averaged a little better for ' ' pretty ' ' than any- 
 thing before discovered. Just as we were about to pluck the 
 ferny bunch from the earth, a snake, about three feet long (or 
 nine feet) , hauled itself from beneath those weeds ; we straight- 
 ened up violently, as we remember it, and so did our hair — we 
 are certain in regard to the hair. We faced toward camp, and 
 went through or over every obstacle met with, and landed heels- 
 over-head across a dinner-basket. 
 
 The poetical members of the party were, by this time, so dil- 
 igently engaged in picking sand-flies from their eyes, shaking 
 big black ants out of their skirts, the men in choking wasps that 
 had crawled up inside their pant-legs, that they did not discover 
 the manner of our arrival at camp to have been anything save an 
 ordinary arrival. We tied strings around the bottoms of our 
 
192 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 breeches legs, to keep out the larger classes of insects, while we 
 sat down on a bunch of sand-burrs to fan ourself and enjoy the 
 scenery. 
 
 It was not long before the other fern-lovers got in — some 
 with bugs up their backs, others with green worms inside their 
 collars, and all of them pretty well eaten up by mosquitoes ; one 
 or two had also ' ' got their hand right onto a snake ! ' ' and they 
 were settled. After all hands had gotten most of the bugs, ants, 
 beetles and worms outside of their inside, it was agreed that din- 
 ner-time had arrived, and so the good things were unpacked, and 
 the lemonade brewery put under way. Getting everything spread 
 out on the grass, one person was appointed steward, while the 
 party drew nigh, and began the enjoyment of the most famous of 
 all pleasures — eating a picnic dinner. The steward's business was 
 to take two little sticks and keep the bugs out of the victuals ; if 
 a gran' -daddy-long-legs got into the butter (and several of him 
 did get in) he was to get him between the two sticks and spar 
 him out ; when the bugs would run under a slice of bread, he was 
 to excavate for them ; he must keep most of the ants shoveled out 
 of the sugar with one of the sticks, and the real cute little green 
 worms that dropped from the boughs above were banished with 
 the other ; the rest of the party could keep most of the flies and 
 mosquitoes out of their faces with one hand, and delight their re- 
 spective palates with the other. The meal over, the party raked 
 things together in a general pile, dumped them into the baskets, 
 the steward hastily drank a pint of lemonade — swallowing two 
 bugs and a measuring- worm — grasped a sandwich and the whole 
 party fled to the boat, and finished the day around on the lake in 
 the boiling hot sun, until every one was almost blistered. 
 
 At eventide, just as the sun was throwing his last shafts of 
 subdued light over the enchanting landscape — also waterscape — 
 the robin was dropping the good-night worm into the yawning 
 mouths of her young, and the looing kine came marching home- 
 ward, timed to the tinkling bell of their leader, our party stepped 
 ashore ; that is, they staggered out onto the pebbly beach, with 
 their cramped and stiffened limbs ; then they all betook them- 
 selves toward their respective abiding places, where they may all 
 be found henceforward, excepting during business hours. 
 
 The party could not consent to disperse from the beach, how- 
 
ODD HOURS. 193 
 
 iever, without first passing the usual resolution, to the effect that 
 it had been "one of the most thoroughly enjoyable, and in every 
 way successful picnics df the season." 
 
 A BATH-ROOM ADVENTURE. 
 
 It was while taking an editorial bath — now, don't smile, 
 please, because we can make oath we did — that we chanced to 
 look out over the edge of the bathtub onto the floor, and there, 
 in the strong electric light, we saw an animal that seemed new to 
 us. When the thing skated in the direction of the bathtub, we 
 would pull ourself down out of sight, and when it seemed likely 
 the thing had time to start off on another tack, we'd peek over 
 the edge again and watch its movements. It was a spooky-look- 
 ing proposition, and seemed to glide about as though it had a 
 hundred legs, or else no legs at all, we couldn't tell which. We 
 had never seen anything like it before, and wondered if that was 
 a part of the belongings to a hotel bath-room, and if it was to be 
 added as an ' ' extra * ' in the bilL What made it look so spooky 
 was the fact that when it halted for an instant between q^irself 
 and the light it seemed to be perfectly hollow and transparent ; 
 there wasn't, so far as could be seen, the least bit of machinery in- 
 side of it. We could see right through the thing, and it seemed, 
 like a seedless prune stretched over a soap-bubble. But, great 
 Caesar ! how it could go, when it seemed to feel like it. We have 
 been buckled in with a great many kinds of animals in the west- 
 ern country, and had never overworried about anything where 
 there was a fair chance to get a good hold ; but here was a most 
 uncanny looking thing, that moved about almost faster than the 
 eye could follow it ; and worst of all, its skating rink was located 
 between the bathtub and the door. We dared not get out of the 
 tub, and didn't want to stay in it all night, or until we became 
 water-soaked. At last, one of those very brilliant ideas came to 
 us, which often help a fellow out of a tight place. Drawing the 
 pitcher full of water, with one eye — with the other we kept tab 
 on the animal — out of the hot spout of the waterworks, we sud- 
 denly flooded the place with it, when this seedless prune disap- 
 peared into its hole somewhere, with a " hot box." Not stopping 
 to dr>' off, we took a cautious " header" into just a part of our 
 
194 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 wardrobe and went out of that human aquarium and down the- 
 adjacent hall, as if liable to miss a train, or as if we had been 
 fired out of a hammerless pea-shooter. We afterward asked one 
 of our friends what he supposed it was, and he said that, judging 
 from our description, it was nothing less than a cockroach. Well, 
 probably it was a cockroach ; but, whatever it was, the next time 
 we take a bath, if we ever do, we'll go armed with a club, and 
 attach the hose to the hot pipe of the waterworks, to begin with. 
 
 HAVING FUN WITH A BICYCLE. 
 
 Nobody about the neighborhood suspected it, but neverthe- 
 less it was true, just the same. We finally did get the bicycle 
 craze, after all these years. It came on ver)' graduallj^, as may be 
 inferred, and we kept religiously quiet about it. What gave the 
 fever a sort of sudden impetus, latterly, was the fact that every 
 time we walked up-town — our cottage home is a goodl}^ distance 
 from the busy marts of trade — we have been overtaken b}' friends 
 who "have wheels," who glided past, with cheerful jest and a 
 remark that would savor of sarcasm about people who walked, in 
 this fast age. If they left home even long after we did, they had 
 time to do a dozen errands and then return, meeting the "foot- 
 pad" editor only a trifle over half way on his journey — then they 
 would volunteer a few condolatory remarks about people who 
 "couldn't ride a wheel." This sort of thing finally began to wear 
 on our nerves. We have never j^et allowed ourself to get left to 
 the extent of three or four to one, in any sort of game, and so we 
 made a mental resolution or two, covering the situation — we re- 
 solved to surprise several or more persons, in the very immediate 
 future, anent this bicycle business. Accordingly, we arranged to 
 have a practice-wheel delivered at our suburban villa, the delivery 
 to be made in the dark of the moon, so as not to arouse the sus- 
 picion of any one but our own. We stabled it in the back shed, 
 until the moon came right for the beginning of active hostilities. 
 Once upon a time, in Montana, we had ridden a bucking bronco 
 for two straight weeks, with the wildest gang of cowboj's that 
 ever roped a coyote, and we "made no doubt" as to our ability 
 to "break" a bloomin' bicycle in just a few strenuous moments. 
 Finally, at a latish hour on a moonlit evening, after all our good 
 
ODD HOURS. 195 
 
 -neighbors had either turned in, or gone out on the lake to fight 
 mosquitoes and fish, we led our rotating steed, by its left ear, 
 down to the commons, adjoining the corporation. We took off 
 our coat, drew our belt up an extra hole, pulled our straw hat 
 well on, made a remark or two to the wheel relative to its stand- 
 ing on its edge in a proper manner without getting so nervous 
 about it, spat on our hands, and then climbed up behind. As we 
 struck the saddle, with a sort of whip-poor-will thud, the forward 
 wheel carromed around to the left and cushioned on our limb, just 
 above the calf, and pinned it solidly against the machinery under 
 the saddle, and also did some other things which we do not now 
 recall ; at the same instant, all the rest of our person fell into our 
 hat on the other side, on the ground. After undoing the com- 
 plication that had taken place, and mentioning a few matters we 
 thought a bicycle might appreciate, we got a better "steady " on 
 it, and went up over the tail end a little quicker ; we desired to 
 be up there in time to head off any unnecessary peculiarity. 
 This time, however, we seemed to have arrived in the vicinity of 
 the saddle just a trifle ahead of time ; and also considerably ahead 
 of the saddle; we shot down over the front wheel, while the wheel 
 made a bull's-eye against a neighboring fence to the rear, and 
 then laid down in the mud. We seldom lose our temper ; still, 
 at about this stage in the fight, our Irish blood began to siz-z just 
 a trifle. We says, " Here ! is a measley little machine, with only 
 two wheels and three or four pieces of gas-pipe, going to make a 
 jabbering monkey of an editor? — well, not if the court knows 
 herself, and she thinks she does ! " We reached down in the mud, 
 got hold of that nineteenth-century fad, and made every wire in 
 its metalic carcass fairly sing a tune, as we jerked it up into a 
 business attitude again. "You've been ridden before, and you'll 
 be ridden again ; and that, too, before the crescent moon above, 
 knocks off another mile of its course — hear me?" We got 'er bal- 
 anced, headed 'er east, and then just naturally climbed up behind 
 and all over the machine in a twinkling ; gobbled both handles, 
 slammed our feet down where the treadles were supposed to be — 
 but they weren't there ; they seemed to have recently gone over 
 to some other locality, or else it might have been one or both of 
 them that hopped up from somewhere and struck us on the ear ; 
 the fact is, we don't know, even now, where those treadles, or 
 
t96 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 pedals, were at that exact time ; the whole establishment seemedi 
 to have exchanged parts and was walking all over us, as we sat 
 there in the mud, trying to figure out which of us was going to. 
 come out on top when everything finally settled down. Talk, 
 about bucking ! the thing seemed to be made of "bucks," in all 
 its collective and individual system. Finally, we got the thing 
 out of the mud — or it got us out of the mud, we are not certain 
 which. Anyway, we both appeared in position again, and we 
 talked to it some, and also examined it critically to ascertain why 
 it had so many different and distinct centers of gra\aty. An idea 
 occurred to us, by seeing a stump glinting in the moonbeams at 
 no great distance away ; we mounted the stump, got the bike ar- 
 ranged in the immediate vicinity, stooped down and grasped the 
 handles firmly, got both eyes on the location of the treadles — one 
 eye on each — and then dropped into the saddle from above. "Ah, 
 ha ! " we exclaimed, " that was an idea ! " The bike, however, 
 did not express itself on the spur of the moment. It soon began 
 to show signs of indignation at the unfair advantage we had taken 
 of it, and began to buck,, and carrom, fisst one way and then an- 
 other, in the most eccentric fashion. We gave it the highest pres- 
 sure our leg muscles were capable of — not caring where or which 
 way it went, so that it went. Of course, it gravitated mostly to- 
 ward a neighboring down-grade, and in about three seconds' time 
 from the date of starting, it was rotating its wobbling way down 
 that slope at a seventy-mile pace, the wind whistling through our 
 whiskers, making music equal to that of an seolian harp, when it 
 was harping. Meantime, we had lost all knowledge of the loca- 
 tion of the stirrups, or pedals, or treadals of the wild steed ; we 
 simply hung across its backbone, like a clothes-pin ^ and imagined 
 ourself learning to steer it — ' ' one thing at a time ' ' being practi- 
 cal, as we considered. We thoroughly enjoyed this flight through 
 space, what little there was of it ; the entire excursion lasted but 
 three-quarters of a minute, all told. How many seconds longer 
 it might have continued, had not a cow come into the play, will 
 never be known. She had, cow-like, taken up lodging about mid- 
 way down that incline, and was dreamily re-masticating her food 
 when the cyclone struck her. As she sprang to her feet with a 
 snort and a bellow, the vehicle clung about her neck, and it was 
 only by first standing on her head and then on her tail several 
 
ODD HOURS. 197 
 
 times each, that she freed herself of the clinging wreck, and dis- 
 appeared in the contiguous gloom, snorting with terror. Had we 
 been in our normal condition, we should have lain there the rest of 
 the night so as to finish a laugh worth twenty dollars even in a 
 dull market. But, the circumstances were different. After hav- 
 ing turned an assorted collection of somersaults down that incline, 
 and going the rest of the way on our nose and stomach, we land- 
 ed in a burdock orchard just in time to see the cow working that 
 wheel over into a small pile of scrap-iron. As soon as we found 
 out that we weren't killed, we gathered up the pieces and limped 
 home. When our folks asked where we had been, at such an un- 
 seemly time of night, we said we had been out coon-hunting and 
 (to account for our demoralized appearance) , that we had fallen 
 off the bluff. Our present mode of traveling is the same as that 
 usually practised before bicycles were invented. The habits of 
 the "bike" do not accord with our notions of propriety, or even 
 morality — in our own case, at least. 
 
 "AUNT ZEBBY" REPORTS. 
 
 Your ' ' Uncle Dudley " is in receipt of the two following 
 letters from one of his esteemed correspondents, who lives out in 
 the "timber:" 
 
 Mr. Editor — My Dear Mister : — My son Jim an' me was set- 
 tin' by the fire last night, an' we got to talkin' over matters an' 
 things, about 'most everything, from the price of indigo, down 
 to marryin' . While I was expasha-atin' on the miserable indigo 
 we get now-a-days, and what I used to get when my mother done 
 her own dyein' , I sort of noticed that Jim was kind of oneasy 
 like, and seemed like as though he wanted to tell somethin' that 
 he know'd. At last, says I, "Jim, what the tarnal ails yer to- 
 night — yer keep a skwirmin' around like a fishworm on a pin ? If 
 anythin' ails yer, tell yer mother ; yer know I'm good on colic, or 
 biliousness, or hives, or 'most anythin' in fact — if it isn't any o' 
 these new-fangled disorders you've caught. What's the matter 
 with yer, anyway?" Jim kind o' got red in the face, an' if I 
 hadn't noticed that he was swettin' freely, I'd a thought sure it 
 was a fever. He grabbed holt of the poker and give the fire a 
 'shakin', an' says he : " Now, mam, I want ter tell yer somethin' 
 
198 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 but I know yer'll git mad an' kick around like an old hen with 
 'er head cut off, if I do tell yer, an' so, I guess I won't." " Now, 
 Jim," says I, " I'll wager all the rag-carpet balls I have up-stairs, 
 that I know yer complaint right now," says I. " Yer love-sick ! 
 That's just what ails yer, to a 'nat's heel — now, isn't it, Jim?" 
 Jim he kind of moaned a little, an' kicked the cat clear acrosst 
 the hearth, an' says he, "Now, mam, I ain't 'zactly love-sick 
 myself, I don't reckon, but I guess Debbie is, or else she wouldn't 
 uv said ' Yes ' so quick when I axed her ' Would she like to be 
 next best man' to your son Jim ! " " There it is now," says I, 
 " what did I tell yer? I know'd it long 'go, an' I've been afeard 
 that yer poor old mother would be outshined in yer affecshuns 
 one o' these days," says I. But, I've felt as though the calamity 
 had got to come purty soon, fer a long time now gone, an' so I've 
 kind uv doctored up my nerves with a purty bracin' quality uv 
 young-hyson tea, so's to stand the shock. " Well," says I, "Jim, 
 yer all I have left uv my various families, an' it's mighty hard ; 
 but still, I'm sort o' reconciled, because I don't know of any bet- 
 ter girl than Debbie Sand ; she wears good honest clothes, her 
 hair an' teeth's her own, she's fair-lookin' and is a good cook. 
 She'll make yer a good wife, Jim ; but, J — , Ji — Jim, yer won't 
 fer — fergit yer ole mo — moth — mother, will you, Jim?" I just 
 broke right down, like a mother 'most always does in such a 
 techin' case; my tea hadn't been very strong that evenin' fer 
 supper, anyway. Jim he broke in two about as bad as I did, an' 
 fer about two minutes my kind, soft-hearted boy bellered like a 
 spring-calf in June. Then he come acrosst the room an' put his 
 arm aroun' my neck an' kissed me, an' said I was the very best 
 mother he ever had, an' beat all three of his fathers put together 
 — son Jim is my last son by my first husband, peace to his ashes ; 
 I mean my husband's ashes ; not Jim's. 
 
 Well, Mr. Editor, we've arranged to have the weddin' jest's 
 soon after I get my spring's soap made, as I can get things cooked 
 up — an' Debbie, my darter-in-law, as is expectin' to be, says she is 
 just boun' to help me with the cookery an' things, that's to cele- 
 brate the klimax of the happy disastur. I reckon we'll throw 
 onto that weddin' -table just about the tastiest set of things fer to 
 eat, that ever got a table-cloth ready for the washtub. If you can't 
 come, in ans'er to the invite we're all goin' to send you, Mr. Ed- 
 
ODD HOURS. 199 
 
 itor, I'll write you about it, an' have you put the disertion into 
 your paper. You must excuse me for not writin' this time about 
 other things I had in my mind ; but, you see this Jim marryin' 
 business upset me altogether, about other things that needs tend- 
 din' to. It's just like I'm apt to do, though — I al'ays find so 
 much to talk about, before I git to sayin' anything. But some o' 
 your pesky latter-day readers will hear something about their- 
 selves — more'n they ever dreamed of — afore I quit 'em ; for I al- 
 'ays make it a part uv my religion to talk to people as needs to 
 be talked to. Good evenin'. Aunt Zebby. 
 
 Mr. Editor — Dear Mister : — Jim is married, an' so is Debbie 
 Sand ; they both married each other at my house last Saturday 
 
 evenin' , an' the nott was tied by Squire M . The weddin' 
 
 event transpired at the house uv the bride's mother-in-law that 
 now is, because I have more room than Debbie's fokes, and beside, 
 I was bound to see son Jim yoked into Hymen's kingdom right in 
 the home uv his poor old mother, and see that it was done right, 
 and no part of the contract overlooked, I've been married three 
 times, myself, an' I think I know the difference betwixt a wed- 
 din' that'll hold fer life, and one that won't run more'n eighteen 
 months, afore it lands 'em both, includin' the baby, in the divorce 
 shop — bless its dear little soul and body ! There's a wonderful 
 heap of difference in weddin' s in these here miserable times, and 
 the ones they used to have They used to hitch people together 
 so's nothin' short of death or lightnin' could sunder them sep'rate 
 again ; but now — la me ! — they get divorces for anything, from 
 cold feet to an oniony breath. Well, Mr. Editor, we had a real 
 sharp lot o' fun — puss wants a corner, forfeits, blind man's bluff, 
 an' Jim played his mouth-organ for 'em to dance, an' dear only 
 knows what they didn' t do. The supper was jest as good as any 
 of yer highfalutin' town people ever set tooth over. I reckon I'm 
 not braggin' when I say that I kin cook a leetle better than any 
 of your cook-book housekeepers of these days. I season my stuff 
 so's a custard pie don't taste like a pan of mashed turnips ; and 
 when you've eat a supper, you feel as though you'd been there. 
 Jim he looked too good fur any girl — 'cept Debbie, bless her mem- 
 ory — and the bride looked just like I've seen pictur's, where a 
 dutchess and a dutchman was gettin' married in a king's house. 
 
200 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 She had on a lawn dress with red-clover blossoms, and wore a new 
 pair of lile-thread gloves, that I made 'er a present of, and white 
 'kerchief around her neck fas'ened with a nosegay of yaller mer- 
 rygolds, high-heeled shoes an' a Chiny fan hung with a red and 
 green cord that I used the first time I was hitched up to hymen. 
 She was the purtiest bride that I think was ever set eyes on, out- 
 side uv the three occasions when I was the principal attracshun — 
 though I hain't sayin' this in any braggin' spirit, because if there 
 is anything I dispise, it's a braggin' spirit. But, so the world 
 goes ! Jim an' Deb. has gone to housekeepin' already, in the two 
 nice rooms over my granery, and may the Lord bless 'em ! I had 
 figgered on sayin' something about various other matters in a do- 
 mesticated way. Something of real good to the people of this 
 highfalutin' age of the world ; something that the girls would 
 find well worth alludin' at once in a while, if they ever expect 
 to become a honor to their sex. There's more outlandishness in 
 one day now, than there was, when I was a girl, in a day and a 
 half ; and sometimes I think I might as well hold my own peace, 
 instead of givin' 'em a piece of my mind — an' then, again, I hardly 
 know which to do. It is nat'ral for me to feel like sayin' some- 
 thin', when there is so much room in the world for sensible talk- 
 But, when I get to writin', I find it such a hurculius task, that I 
 hardly know where to begin, until I have said so much that I've 
 got to leave off. But, I want your female readers, as well as some 
 that claims the exalted position of wives and mothers, to remem- 
 ber that I haven't forgot 'em, nor their needy condishun ; but I'll 
 tell 'em somethin' or another, one of these here fine days, that 
 they'll thank me for, until long after their dyin' day — I don't 
 care how long they live. Good evenin' . 
 
 Aunt Zebby. 
 P. S. — Debbie and Jim says they'd like you to send 'em an 
 extry copy of your paper that has this letter in it. It's fer them 
 to keep, you know, to show to their gran' children, pervided it so 
 happens that way. I'll send you some of my dill-pickles, and 
 a piece of my seed-cake that was the weddin'-cake, as soon as one 
 of the neighbors happens to be goin' to town. You might say to 
 yer men subscribers that the "heaves" has appeared in this here 
 neighborhood ; two of my cows has it, and the hog-cholera has 
 broke out among my chickens. A. Z. 
 
ODD HOURS. 20 1 
 
 HOW TO BEGIN ON A NEW FARM. 
 
 Having been reared in the West, and it having been "noised 
 about ' ' that we knew something of how to commence on a new 
 farm, or government "claim," a young man has applied to us to 
 write a detailed article upon the subject, and put it in our paper, 
 as a guide for himself and a few other young men who are about 
 to go west to take up " homesteads," and adopt the life of a far- 
 mer — anciently called " tiller," but modeml)^ styled " granger." 
 The young man seems very anxious to know just how to proceed 
 in order to succeed on a wild " claim " in a wild country, and we 
 admire his good judgment in applying to a reliable source for 
 gaining knowledge in regard to the most noble and ennobling oc- 
 cupation of the white man. Indians are different. 
 
 The first move toward farming a new "claim " in the West 
 is to find one to suit your liking and then take possession of it ; 
 the next, to enclose a small tract of land and put a bark-roof over 
 it ; the walls to be of logs, of course ; a floor may be introduced, 
 if the proprietor be pretty forehanded, otherwise it is a luxurj- 
 that may be dispensed with indefinitely. There should be two 
 apertures left in the walls — one for daylight to climb in at, the 
 other to admit of ingress and egress on the part of the proprietor. 
 The furniture necessary to a good start on a new farm should be 
 rather plain, to be in good taste ; for, the vanity of pomp and 
 show should never be allowed to invade the home of the pioneer. 
 A stool with three legs — one on the south, and two on the north 
 side — should suffice for that kind of " paraphernalia ; " at first, a 
 little inconvenience may be experienced in trying to sit on it with- 
 out tipping over ; but any one with sufficient talent to master the 
 art of riding a bicycle, will very soon prove equal to riding one of 
 these chairs. It is less difficult than a one-legged milking-stool, 
 by just two-thirds. The table, for a new farm, should be a bar- 
 rel, the open end uppermost, with a board across the top; this is 
 an extension-table — the longer the board, the greater the exten- 
 sion. The inner recesses of this table can be used as a wardrobe 
 and cupboard, combined, in which the settler can keep his other 
 shirt and his extra stock of provisions away from the mice. By 
 hugging the knees around the barrel when eating, the chair can 
 be managed with greater dexterity. A tin plate and cup, with 
 
 \ 
 
202 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 horn-handle knife and fork, a tin dish and spoon with which tc 
 handle the pork and gravy, should complete the table-ware for a 
 new farm, unless, as we said before, the proprietor is forehanded, 
 in which case a tin sugar-bowl might be added consistently — one 
 of these brown - colored affairs, so that too great a contrast will 
 not exist between the vessel and its contents — 'for, if sugar is used 
 at all, its hue should be somber ; thirty or forty pounds for a dol- 
 lar. All the supplies necessary to start on a new farm are, one 
 hundred-weight of salt pork, a barrel of flour, a barrel of salt, 
 the same of vinegar — to be used on "greens" — and a peck of 
 beans ; if the proprietor is forehanded, however, he might add to 
 the salt and vinegar, and also add a pound of pepper and a nut- 
 meg. Just what the nutmeg might be needed for on a new farm 
 we don't exactly know, but it would look well in the cupboard. 
 
 The next duty of the proprietor of a new farm on the fron- 
 tier should be to kill a coon — we mean a raccoon. This will wake 
 him up to a sense of offensive and defensive operations ; but the 
 chief object to be gained by this is to get the skin of the animal 
 to nail up on the door ; for, if there is anything that seems to us 
 appropriate, and that ornaments the door of a cabin on a govern- 
 ment claim to perfection, it is a coon skin neatly stretched and 
 nailed with the flesh-side out ; it gives an old colonial cast to the 
 habitation, and then it is so "luck}^" you know. 
 
 The proprietor should next mutilate the bosom of the virgin 
 soil with a twenty-two inch breaking plow hitched to a yoke of 
 at least moderately stout oxen — -the color of the oxen is immate- 
 rial, and is only a matter of taste. At first he may grow impa- 
 tient, and want to do too much plowing within a limited time ; 
 but we warn him that unless patience is cultivated on a new farm, 
 as well as beans, he will fail. If he breaks up fifteen or sixteen 
 acres per day, at first, with one yoke of oxen and a twenty-two 
 inch plow, he is doing a good, reasonable business, and may esti- 
 mate that he is succeeding as well as could be expected. He 
 should "plow deep while sluggards sleep" — say about twelve or 
 fifteen inches in depth. When plowing, or breaking, is done, let 
 him be particular as to the quality and variety of his seeds ; for, 
 planting an "old seed " on a new farm is bad business. The va- 
 riety of corn known as "sod corn" is best for the first year's 
 planting. If a great variety of crops is desired on a limited area 
 
ODD HOURS. 203 
 
 of ground, it w^ould be best to mix the seed before planting — 
 wheat, rye, barley, buckwheat, flax, turnip and oats in equal 
 parts, and put on about ten bushels to the acre. The winters be- 
 ing somewhat long in this country, the young farmer can employ 
 himself, during the snowy months, in sorting out his crops and 
 getting them ready for the spring market. We advise the rearing 
 of poultry and pigs, and the cultivation of dutch-cheese and bees- 
 wax ; they are all salable products, and besides, the turkeys and 
 chickens are death on grasshoppers and bugs — a hundred turkeys 
 will alone sweep several dozen 'hoppers off the face of the earth 
 in a single summer — unaided by either the chickens or dutch- 
 cheese. 
 
 We trust these few practical hints, by one who has "been 
 there" and knows whereof he speaks, may prove more or less 
 valuable to every reader who has an ambition to open up a new 
 farm — or, a government " homestead." 
 
 ONE'S CLOSEST FRIEND. 
 
 Speaking about one's undershirt being one's closest friend, 
 we arise to remark that the assertion is a mistake. Whoever is 
 of this opinion may be honest in it ; but it proves very clearly to 
 our mind that they have never backed up against an Alcock's 
 porous-plaster. These plasters are of the liver-pad family, but 
 are a great advance over the latter, in medical science, the same 
 as the liver-pad was a stride forward from the old-time lung-pro- 
 tector. We are the possessor of one of these porous-plasters at 
 the present writing — or it possesses us, we are not sure which. 
 Whichever way it is, the possession bids fair to exist for an in- 
 definite period. As a sticker, it even surpasses the sheet of fly- 
 paper we sat down upon a few evenings ago while calling upon 
 Deborah Jane. Having experienced a vigorous attack of lum- 
 bago in the back recently, from sitting in an old sway-backed 
 editorial chair too persistently, our family physician recommend- 
 ed that we stand up oftener, and wear an eight-by-twelve porous- 
 plaster. The latter part of the prescription was at once adopted, 
 and is still going on successfully. It would have gone out of 
 business, however, some time ago, had it been in our power to so 
 direct the affair. We have made the attempt several times to pull 
 
204 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ourself away from its embrace, but as the idea of being skinned 
 alive is not at all popular with us, the plaster is still doing busi- 
 ness at the old stand. Being a choice between leaving it on and 
 becoming a lunatic from itchiness, or pulling it off, skin and all, 
 we have concluded to "go daffy," as the least of the two evils — 
 it doesn't hurt so much, and is easier done, in our case. This 
 plaster must have been a real ftesh, quarter-sawed, hand-made 
 one, as well as tailor-made, for it fits like the paper on the wall, 
 and it will probably stick there until it wears off, and as it is an 
 exceedingl}?^ durable article, i t will probably endure until ' ' the 
 cows come home," or until people come to spell pneumonia with- 
 out a ' p. ' If some way cannot be hit upon to get the measly 
 thing off, the prospect is we shall spend a very miserable Christ- 
 mas. If, during that joyful season, any one notices a far-away 
 look in the editorial eye, we beg they won't mention it, because 
 it will not bear discussion. It has gotten away beyond discussion. 
 We also give notice that no one need volunteer to relieve us of 
 this close friend. If it is ever to pe pulled, we shall go to the 
 dentist, or else do the work on it ourself, when entirely alone. 
 There are times, even in the life of a moral man, when a few ob- 
 servations, appropriate to the work in hand, is admissible — or at 
 least are supposed to be. Our domestic circle have offered to act 
 in the matter, but their serA'ices have been declined, since the one 
 attempt they made to relieve the situation. We have thought of 
 trying to blast it off with dynamite ; but determined that there 
 were things in the world, so adhesive that even dynamite could 
 not spring a separation. The doctor need not have advised that 
 we stand up and exercise more, because we have been walking up 
 and down the office for the past week (since it began itching) 
 until our printers have, evidently, concluded we must have some- 
 thing on our mind — they don't know it is on our back, or they 
 would undoubtedly volunteer to help us off with it. The scheme 
 we now have in mind is, to put ourself to soak over night in a 
 strong solution of alum-water, and see if it won't gradually 
 pucker itself off. Once rid of it, and our office-floor nicely 
 mopped up — using our family physician as the mop, the next 
 time he comes in — we doubt not but that we shall feel better than 
 we do now. We are tired of having to use the garden rake every 
 time we want to scratch our back. It is unhandy. 
 
ODD HOURS. 205 
 
 MEETING A CHAIR. 
 Dear reader, did you ever arise from your couch during the 
 •stilly hours of night ? If so, did you ever find a chair in the ex- 
 act spot where you were positive it wasn' t ? We did. It wasn't 
 a hundred years ago, either, when we had to slide out of bed just 
 as the faithful old clock was about to toll the hour of midnight. 
 The principal object of this particular nocturnal expedition was 
 to reach the rear door of our humble cot, and from that point of 
 vantage, to interrupt a feline duet which was being vociferously 
 rendered on the rear fence, by heaving the bootjack and other 
 deadly missiles in their direction. Their musical performance had 
 made sleep impossible for the previous two hours, and our temper 
 had been so wrought up that we made a dash through the dark 
 rooms with the speed and recklessness of a Texas cyclone. We 
 charged for the front door of the rear kitchen, and stayed not our 
 mad rush ; that is, we halted not until we stopped. An heir-loom 
 in the form of a heavy oaken chair, which we could have sworn 
 was up-stairs in the garret, met us in the blackness of that mid- 
 night hour ; then, we could have made affidavit that it was not 
 up-stairs in the garret. We met it directly on the end of our sec- 
 ond-best toe, on the port foot. The impetuosity of our headway 
 made it very bad for that toe. We saw stars — an elegant assort- 
 ment of fireworks. Our remarks, as we stood on our head in the 
 adjacent woodbox, would have been far more appropriate in the 
 Chicago wheat-pit than in a Y. M. C. A. meeting. Finally find- 
 ing our center, we yelled for a light, which was brought forth b)' 
 the next-best protector of the home, who felt sure that the house 
 had "settled," or the cellar caved in. Upon examination, we 
 found the toe in question completely telescoped, with not enough 
 of it sticking out of the bumper to make a coupling on ; in fact 
 there was only a place for a toe. It had been driven up worse 
 than the tail of a butcher's dog. It resembled a turtle's neck, 
 when the turtle wasn't " at home." After getting it pulled out 
 again, and splintered into place, we went to bed, and were quite 
 grateful for the rest of the night, because the cats kept us from 
 getting lonesome, while we laid awake and nursed our toe. 
 
2o6 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 A VOYAGE ON AN ICE-BOAT. 
 
 If you never made a trip on an ice-boat, dear reader — an ice- 
 boat with a sail big enough for a hundred-ton schooner — we sin- 
 cerely lament your condition ; you must be as destitute of life's 
 pleasures as a bee would be without flowers. As for ourself , we 
 have gone beyond you ; we have climbed aloft into a higher alti- 
 tude for contemplation ; into an air-stratum to which you, poor 
 plodding mortal, are a total stranger — we have had our ride on an 
 ice-boat over the broad bosom of the lake ; though this particular 
 lake was considerably longer than it was broad. We can now look 
 back, with our nose in the air, upon the ordinary enjoyments of 
 life, and wonder how we could ever have been amused by Fourth - 
 of-July celebrations, circuses, merry-go-rounds, picnics, sleigh- 
 rides, marbles or baseball. We can scarcely conceive that we ever 
 took delight in a minstrel performance, a political campaign, or 
 pulling the legs off of flies; because we have "rid" on an ice- 
 boat. We had an invitation to sail with a couple of friends, and 
 of course accepted it, as it had long been our desire to take a trip 
 on one of these craft. We had often stood and watched the fly- 
 ing, graceful things, as they glided up or down our thirty-mile 
 lake, and when their sails bellied to a bounding breeze, they flit- 
 ted away like an albatros in a gale ; they simply seemed to anni- 
 hilate space and time together. Then, the smoothness of it ! It 
 seemed a clear case of oiled lightning or a greased eel — oh, what 
 a blissful sensation it must be, to-be-sure ! Coming down a stair- 
 bannister would be like riding over a corduroy bridge in a fish- 
 cart, by comparison. 
 
 We descended to the shore of the beautiful lake— now solid 
 in its icy grandeur — and found the boat just having her white 
 wings spread to the " spanking breeze." An ice-boat is a won- 
 derful craft, in its way, and in general appearance resembles an 
 old-fashioned harrow; it doesn't look like a harrow, either, but 
 like a "lizzard," upon which logs are hauled out of the woods ; 
 and yet, that is not exactly what it resembles — it bears a resem- 
 blance to an ice-boat more than to either ; they have improved 
 their models, of late years, until they now look still more like an 
 ice-boat, or ship, than they did when we enjoyed our ride. We 
 being the invited guest, were given the post of honor, on the nose- 
 
ODD HOURS. 207 
 
 deck, being the corner that "went first." The establishment 
 moved out from shore in obedience to the pulsation of the breeze, 
 and we glided gently toward the central portion of the lake's 
 bosom. Though the brave "old salt" who sat at the helm said, 
 in response to our question, that the boat was as yet going very 
 slowly, we felt a little nervous like, as the ice-scales were already 
 flying up into our face; as the wind freshened, the craft flew 
 ahead with such increasing velocity that we lay prone, head to 
 the fore, and only kept one eye open (partially) at a time. The 
 ice scales, assorted sizes, began to fly down inside our coat-collar 
 (the finer particles inside our celluloid shirt-collar), and never 
 stopped until they landed inside our socks ; and the packing of 
 our body in chopped ice went steadily forward until we became 
 tolerably solid as far up as our chin, and we began to feel like an 
 ice-cream freezer on a bu'st. We made out to twist our left-eye 
 around until we sighted the engineer at the helm, and, in an agony 
 of fright, shouted to him that we thought she had sprung a leak 
 in the bows. The old fiend of a skipper only smiled, as he luffed 
 his tobacco-quid over into the larboard side of his face and yelled 
 back, "Keep cool, yer lubber, [just as if we weren't coot] we 
 haven't begun to go yet." " Let us please go ashore, then ! " we 
 shrieked. But he only luffed his quid again, and took his 
 bearings for a point at the upper end of the lake. We now hug- 
 ged dowTi like a toad to a hot pavement, drew our head deep in- 
 side our coat-collar, and muttered, " Mercy on us!" The ship 
 leaped before the gale, scurried right and left, rocked, and flew 
 like a comet, first on one corner, then on another, and anon, set- 
 tling flat down and making the ice fairly bellow with the friction 
 below, while the air was full of frozen scales that cut like wire. 
 The point was reached, then left behind, and the winged devil to 
 which we had, in an unlucky moment, tied our fortunes, doubled 
 the head of the lake, and started on its southern tack as if swept 
 ahead by all the furies. We felt sure that such a velocity could 
 not be stayed this side the Gulf of Mexico ; possibly we were des- 
 tined to form the nucleus of a gigantic meteor, that would at no 
 distant day appal the astronomers, by our fiery passage through 
 space— a fiery body done in ice. As we lay there, hanging on 
 like grim death, to the cross-beam, speechless, motionless, almost 
 senseless, in our enjoyment of a ride on the for'ard hatch of an 
 
2o8 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 ice - boat. We were only enough alive to have one desire in 
 life — to live long enough to slay the friends who got us into such 
 a scrape and to burn at the stake the old duffer at the helm. At 
 last, after clinging to our place in but a semi-conscious state for 
 what seemed an age, we made our home port. We resembled a 
 rag doll tightly stuffed, and of course were perfectly helpless ; it 
 was necessary for four men to carry us home, one at each corner, 
 when they sat us up before the fire in a big tub — the tub to catch 
 the water, as fast as we thawed. At this writing we are barely 
 able to sit up, and keep poultices on the places where the skin is 
 missing, and rub salve on the frozen spots. We are told that the 
 fellows who gave us this ride have left the country, which shows 
 they have some wisdom, anyway ; because we are liable to get 
 well pretty fast, when once we turn for the better. 
 
 A GOVERNMENT MUI^E. 
 
 A GOOD-DEAL has been said and written about the mule. 
 We have often heard the expression, " Tougher 'n a government 
 mule," and many other similes at the expense of his long-earship. 
 But it was not until recently that we were favored with a good 
 opportunity for getting right down to a satisfying contemplation 
 of this famous animal, and his toughness. There were 210 of 
 them, and they were en route to a frontier post to make it lively 
 for the soldiers, and incidentally, to aid in an Indian campaign 
 against the hostile Sioux west of the Missouri. The}' had been 
 packed — like sardines in a box — in the cars for two mortal days, 
 and then let out into a mule-pen, to rest and refresh themselves, 
 preparatory to being re-packed in the same cars to continue their 
 weary journey to Ft. Lincoln. We expected that, after their en- 
 forced abstinence for so long a time from food and water, that 
 they would scarcely be able to stand when relieved from the close, 
 stifling cars ; and we would not have been surprised had some of 
 them been found dead. But no, that isn't the way with a mule, 
 even under such painful circumstances. Though thin as wafers 
 from the terrible squeeze through which they had gone, they came 
 out rearing and tearing, making the cars fairly rock with their 
 scrambling to get out, literally clambering over one another to get 
 into daylight. Each car contained about eighteen, and th»,»iip- 
 
ODD HOURS. 209 
 
 roar that followed upon their egress was a terror to one's nerves. 
 The enclosure into which they were turned was somewhat limited 
 and they had none too much room in which to expand themselves. 
 Each one of the two hundred and ten seemed to vie with his fel- 
 low-donkey in the matter of braying, and such an opera as set in 
 would have put pandimonium clearly in the shade. We took a 
 position astride the high board-fence, and gazed with wide-open 
 eyes down into the forest of ears and heels for two exciting hours, 
 studying mule character. As a vocalist, we consider the mule 
 ahead of everything. Comparing it with a chorus of two hun- 
 dred mules, a boiler factory, an earthquake, or a "a royal brass- 
 band fresh from the faderland," are but the feeble echoes of a 
 dying katydid. When they had finally become hoarse through 
 their vocal efforts, or had exhausted the program of the opera 
 under consideration, they opened the ball, and commenced the 
 favorite dance of a mule wherever he has room to get his heels 
 into the air. Each kicked the other, and the other kicked each, 
 and they all kicked together. When any one exhausted his par- 
 ticular batch of mules to kick at, he would go for the fence, or 
 any other object that seemed worthy of his heels. After a couple 
 of hours of such amusement they were again run into the cars 
 through a sort of spout, and when a car would get so full that 
 another one could not squeeze in, the " mule- whacker " would 
 frighten him until he would run his head in among the others, 
 when two or three men in rear would literally drive him in with 
 clubs, much like driving a wedge into a log — when that particu- 
 lar car would be pronounced loaded, the big door slid into place, 
 and another car moved up to the spout. Verily, no living thing 
 can surpass a government mule in " tuffness." 
 
 AS A HAYMAKER. 
 
 The grass had become intolerably high 'round-about our 
 abode, and the cow was out of meat, figuratively speaking, and 
 so, we purchased a scythe. A lawn-mower is too new a contriv- 
 ance to appeal to the notions of one who has always been filled to 
 the brim with the colonial spirit in all things, and who is wedded 
 to the ways of our fathers and forebears of ye olden times. We 
 had never interviewed a scythe, along practical lines, to-be-sure,, 
 
2IO UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 and had our foresight at that time been as acute as our present 
 hindsight, we should not have interviewed it even then. A scythe 
 seems to be made up of crookedness and fiendishness, mixed in 
 about equal parts ; and how a man can be expected to go straight 
 at his work, behind one of them, is a little in advance of any- 
 mathematical knowledge we happen to have on hand. We can- 
 not imagine that any man living can manipulate one of them un- 
 less he be a cross-eyed person ; a man who was sufficiently cross- 
 eyed to gaze out of two opposite windows at the same time, might 
 be able to get in his work where it was wanted, with one of these 
 tools of our daddies ; but, if all scythe-handles are as crooked as 
 the one we now possess — and which we now desire to give away 
 — we have shekels that say that no man with straight eyes can 
 cut the grass he wants to cut, unless he aims at some object in the 
 adjoining lot, or else throws it around the corner of the house, 
 and then runs the other way. You might as well try to drive a 
 tack with a ram's horn — it simply isn't in it. 
 
 What made our defeat too humiliating for anything was, we 
 had been lecturing our young descendants during the breakfast 
 hour, upon the nobility of labor, and also upon the folly of run- 
 ning after every new-fangled thing that came out to lessen the 
 labors performed by our forefathers ; that we were going to use a 
 scythe instead of a lawn-mower strictly as a matter of principle, 
 and after breakfast we would show them how their lamented 
 grandfather mowed his hay, and how their Maker intended hay 
 should be mown — and didn't want they should ever become so 
 averse to labor, or so filled with pride, as to countenance the 
 use of a horse - power machine, or a sacreligious lawn-mower, 
 in the performance of this ancient and honorable branch of toil. 
 
 After the frugal breakfast, we adjusted our hat and, followed 
 by the family procession, sallied forth to where the tool was sus- 
 pended in a wild-plum tree, whistling our favorite opera, "The 
 Conquering Hero Comes." It took some time to get it down, as 
 it seemed to be very much interlaced with the crooked limbs of 
 the tree, which were nearly as crooked as itself. Finally, it com- 
 menced coming, and we ran out from under and let it fall just 
 where it had a mind to. The boys laughed a little, but pretty 
 soon it quit flopping around, and became quiescent, having found 
 two points of its construction upon which it could rest. We ad- 
 
ODD HOURS. 211 
 
 vanced with caution, in among its crooks, got it by the tail and 
 one of the handles, and lifted it off the ground ; it sort of swung 
 around, and came near cutting our left limb, pretty high up ; we 
 told the boys they'd better climb up on the fence till we were un- 
 der way, and got the "hang" of it a little. We finally captured 
 it by both handles, carried it up to the edge of the grass, swelled 
 our muscles, and gave it a tremendous swing ; it went skylarking 
 through the trackless air, above the tall grass, and cut off a fine 
 currant-bush behind us ; and, had we not let go all holds, and 
 dodged out through one of the crooks, and reached the top of the 
 fence just ahead of it, no doubt we should now have been run- 
 ning about without a head. The boys laughed immoderately, 
 and we reproved them severely for making light of so serious a 
 labor. After the ancient instrument had quieted down again, we 
 advanced on the crookedest side and, grasping it simultaneously 
 by both handles, held it out at arm's length, in an effort to find 
 its chief center of gravity ; soon, we seemed to have it, and made 
 another pass at the luxuriant pasturage ; this time, the point of 
 the scythe entered the earth, about a foot, and the tail-end caught 
 us on the ear very severely, while one of the handles vibrated 
 against our sub-stomach, and we sat down in the grass to hold it 
 a while where it ached the worst. The boys laughed so hyster- 
 ically that most of them fell off the fence, and our ear swelled up 
 like a blighted plum. We made just one more effort to ' conquer 
 or die ;' the next and last round was a hummer ; our whole spirit, 
 or whatever you call it, was on its edge ; the boys were tittering, 
 and we couldn't blame them ; because, thus far, it had been con- 
 siderably more entertaining than a monkey-show. Our spirit, just 
 referred to, began to boil at the bare suspicion of defeat, and we 
 advanced upon that grass instrument at the exploding point of 
 the spirit aforesaid. Suppressed wrath is said to be cunning, and 
 our attack was cunningly conceived — at least, we supposed it to 
 be. Advancing warily, until within about a panther's spring, we 
 made a sudden attack on its left flank and literally gathered in a 
 whole armful of it, and then the fight for mastery began. We 
 had an iron-grip on it in several places, and if we could only have 
 had about one more hand to grip with, the result would have 
 been different. As it was, though, things proved unlucky. After 
 we had waltzed around all over the yard, and finally found what 
 
212 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 we thought to be its chief center, we made a fearful onslought 
 upon that patch of blue-joint. Early in the 'slought, however, 
 that invention of hades squirmed around in some unaccountable 
 way, and hacked our left "calf" with a grievous hack— rear at- 
 tacks seemed to be its favorite mode of warfare, and as we could 
 not be around on that side of ourself , and attend to the action in 
 front at the same time, it had the advantage of us ; because we 
 were not as crooked as it was. We swung the implement in a 
 sweeping circle, cutting off a beautiful June rose-bush and several 
 blades of grass that happened to be standing in the way, and at 
 last the thing brought up with a terrible crash, burying itself in 
 a fence-board, whilst we sprang out through one of the "twists" 
 and ran around onto the back porch, to rest and see how much of 
 a cut our leg had sustained. And we are now prepared to say, 
 If any person happens to be in need of one of these implements 
 of our forefathers, they are welcome to this one, if they will take 
 it off the premises before it injures any more of the tribe of Dud- 
 ley. Any one who can "set" it properly, will find it an excel- 
 lent trap to place in the front yard for tramps. If a tramp came 
 into the yard, and it proved to be set right, all the owner would 
 have to do would be to gather up the pieces, put them in a bag 
 and turn the bag and contents over to the coroner, for him and 
 his jury to "sit" on. Wanted — A lawn-mower; apply at the 
 office of the Weekly Gun-wad. 
 
 BUYING A COW. 
 
 Not being a millionaire, we have never had a single thought, 
 or aspired to the dignity of furnishing our barnyard with a sure- 
 enough Aldemey cow. They are now the "rage," to-be-sure; 
 but all of these fine-haired animals have been picked up, and now 
 adorn the rear landscapes, or cow-scapes, of the bonanza-kings' 
 homes, who dwell here and there among us, where they (the Ald- 
 erneys) nip the tender herbage, and pan out thick cream in the 
 fore-milking, with an after-piece of gilt-edge butter, all ready for 
 " the rich man's table." We are tolerably proud, even if we have 
 neither a bank-account or a mine, and to get a good cow — one 
 that would give out good common fluid, plenty of it, was gentle, 
 graceful in her motions, with an intelligent countenance — became 
 
ODD HOURS. 213 
 
 a passion with us. We thought we knew most of the " points" 
 of a good family cow, and so kept a lookout for one that would 
 please our fancy, for a ^ood cow, even if she weren't particularly 
 picturesque in her appearance. 
 
 The first cow we took for a "milker," proved to be other- 
 wise. She was a long, loose-jointed affair, with symetrical limbs, 
 and she had a real knowing sort of look, as she would peak around 
 at the lacteous artist from underneath her lopped horn. She was 
 a trifle skittish in her behavior, we noticed, and we felt sure that 
 that intent gaze of hers meant something ; she was making her 
 mind up on some point, undoubtedly, as to whether she was go- 
 ing to like our style, or despise us outright. It turned against 
 us. We made some little miss-Q in our manipulation of the ' ' tu- 
 bers," or whatever you call them, and she forthwith handed us 
 one before we had time to apologize ; and when we landed, we 
 were in too much of a heap to assume an apologetic position, and 
 so we went to the house and went to bed. This creature knocked 
 us out in three straight rounds, and gave about four pints of ex- 
 tremely blue milk in the three days we owned her, and the 
 butcher gave us a little something for her, on account, and we 
 began looking for another cow that wasn't quite so loose in the 
 joints, and one that had better manners. 
 
 The next one was a monstrous, ox-like animal, with a head 
 on her like the blunt end of a pile-driver, and an udder as big as 
 a small-sized bass-drum. She looked sort of foolish out of her 
 eyes, and didn't know anything but "eat." It took a ton of hay 
 and a delivery-wagon-load of shorts-and-corn to keep her from 
 actually starving during the first month. She gave more milk 
 than the first one — say about five quarts a day — but it cost too 
 much. We finally sold her to the butcher, who said she would 
 do to "corn," and he could sell her hide to good advantage to be 
 manufactured into heavy belt-leather. She was a very coarse cow. 
 
 Number three was a gentle little creature — white, with brin- 
 dle spots. She had only one "tuber," that amounted to much, 
 but that amounted to a good deal — it was nearly ' ' the whole 
 thing," in fact. When it was full, it was about the only projec- 
 tion around there, and it was so able-bodied that it took both our 
 hands to get around far enough to produce a pressure, and there 
 wasn't strength enough in four average country editors to draw 
 
214 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 the milk from that particular cocoanut. We had to put a milk- 
 poultice on the back of the calf's neck to enable it to draw enough 
 sustenance to keep it alive — and it had a terrible suction, too, 
 that calf had. We began to suspect that we didn't know so \^xy 
 much about selecting a cow, after all ; nor did we suspect that 
 the people of that section were working off their refuse stock on 
 us. We paid big prices (and sold for what we could get), and 
 secured several of the most famously poor cows in the neighbor- 
 hood. Folk got to whistling, and making mouths to one another 
 whenever they would see us coming along the road leading a new 
 cow. The thing began to grow monotonous ; although we had 
 lost enough money to have bought a small herd of Aldernies, our 
 temper was up, and we were bound to strike butter and milk, out- 
 side the aristocratic Alderney strain, if it took all summer. We 
 kept on buying and selling cows — losing ten to fifteen dollars on 
 each — averaging a new cow every fortnight or so, until we had 
 ground through about all there were around, that any one wanted 
 to sell. Our occupation seemed to be that of a middle-man, be- 
 tween cow owners and the butchers ; both were making a good 
 thing, at our expense. 
 
 At last, however, after investing the last loose dollar we had, 
 and giving several long notes, and after having been kicked into 
 nearly everj' fence - corner on the place, we struck it — struck it 
 rich beyond estimate. 
 
 A poor man — and consequently honest — owed a debt, and in 
 order to pay it he had to sell his last cow, and we gobbled her, by 
 "making a turn" with him and his creditor. Talk about your 
 cows I Our cow wouldn' t allow an Alderny to scratch against 
 the same fence, when it came to a show down of milk, cream and 
 butter goods ; she was a walking dairy ; a bellowing creamery. 
 The first evening, we filled all the hollow-ware in the house, that 
 it was proper to fill with milk. Rich ? — in the morning, the cream 
 had to be spaded off with the pancake-turner, and the chum was 
 at once put to work ; and, upon going out that morning to milk 
 her, we found that the mess she gave the night before was only a 
 priming. It was a regular Niagara of richness ; ther was no use 
 in trying, we couldn't find storage for it on the premises, unless 
 we turned it into the cistern, and after filling everything that 
 would hold milk, we had to turn the stream into the alley — it was 
 
ODD HOURS. 215 
 
 like a collapsed reservoir. We had to go to feeding her sawdust 
 and mop-rags to absorb the flow, and at this writing we have her 
 choked down to a trifle less than sixteen quarts of cream at a 
 milking. Most people may think that Alderneys are the proper 
 thing in cows, because they are the present rage ; but the little 
 crumple - homed scrub cow we now own can simply drown any 
 Alderney in this county, in the milk she gives, twice a day, and 
 if any there be who think these statements overdrawn, we are in 
 sympathy with them — somewhat. At any rate, we have ceased 
 to allow ' ' left-over ' ' cows to go through our pocket-book on their 
 way to the butcher. 
 
 TEACHING SCHOOL. 
 
 It was the first school they ever had in that new region ; 
 there were about thirty children in the neighborhood, of school- 
 able age. The old heads-of -families convened at one of the set- 
 tlers' houses, and Joe Bailey, — who wore the most dashing pair 
 of buckskin breeches, and a coonskin cap that had two or three 
 more rings in the tail, that hung down behind, than any of the 
 rest — was chosen chairman — or " moderator," as they called it — 
 of the meeting. Your "Uncle," who was at that time a very 
 young affair, was designated as secretary, or " scribe." The 
 chairman stated that the object of the meeting was to " Take into 
 calkelation the idee of roUin' t'gether a schoolhouse, and hevin' 
 a school fer the children to go to school into;" and told the as- 
 sembled pioneer that " if thej^ had anythin' to say, to say it then, 
 or forever arter to hold their yawp." The young secretary — who 
 had found the stump-end of a lead-pencil, and a newly-made clap- 
 board, and bashfully assumed the position of recorder — made a 
 note of this on the clapboard, and during the ten minutes of dif- 
 fidence among the *' assembly " that followed, he drew the picture 
 of a dog. 
 
 After awhile Bill Simson stood up, and after knocking the 
 ashes out of his pipe, remarked : " Ef we've come here to fix 
 things about a schoolhouse, I say we'd better fix things ; I'll haul 
 as many logs as any other man in the woods, an' I kin send as 
 many children to school as anybody in the settlement — hear me !' ' 
 
 Bob Olds — a red-headed, excitable little man with bow-legs 
 
2i6 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 — slammed his coonskin cap down on the puncheon-floor, and 
 says he, "Thar haint no man in this here settlement, nor no other 
 settlement, as will haul any more logs than I will ; I want a good 
 schoolhouse, even if it so be I can't read myself — an' it's jest them 
 as can't read that knows the good of book-larnin' ; there's Sam 
 Ames, settin thar; he can't read no more'n I kin, an' he knows 
 he'd give six months of work, off an' on, ef he could read readin' 
 letters, an' write his own name." 
 
 Sam said that was so, and said he would rive out the clap- 
 boards for the roof as his share ; and Dave McArnaught said he 
 would maul out the puncheons for the floor. Con Wallace, being 
 a bit of a carpenter, said he would work out the stuff for the door 
 and the casings, and the sash for the windows, too ; the old man 
 Gilson, the hunter, would sell enough deer and wolf skins to hwy 
 the glass. So, very soon all arrangements about the house were 
 made, and it wasn't much more than a fortnight when this fron- 
 tier college was ready for business. 
 
 Before the meeting adjourned, however, the question of who 
 was to be the teacher was brought up and discussed. There were 
 but two available candidates for this honor, in the neighborhood 
 — a young girl and your Uncle. It was finally put to vote ; the 
 secretary's cap was made the ballot-box, and those in favor of the 
 girl for teacher, were requested to vote half acorns — the ground 
 under the big oak at the door was covered with them — and those 
 in favor of the secretary, to vote whole acorns. We got two ma- 
 jority, which result, in the light of later days, we imagine might 
 have been because we were at the meeting, and the girl wasn't. 
 
 School opened in due time, and we cut four healthy blue- 
 beach gads on our way to the " Institute." When we arrived, 
 we found most of the scholars on hand, including the girl who 
 had been our rival for the position of teacher. We entered with 
 a frown — which we supposed was the necessary thing, to give us 
 the dignity so becoming in a pedagogue — and stood the young 
 blue-beach trees in the comer, and told the school there wasn't 
 any " bluff" about that, but that we intended to skin the whole 
 outfit if they didn't knuckle tight. 
 
 We didn't know much about teaching school, because we 
 had never attended school ourself , any worth mentioning. But 
 we had an idea that it consisted chiefly in showing the scholars 
 
ODD HOURS. i\'j 
 
 who was boss, and in keeping them properly " rounded up." We 
 arranged them around on the benches, according to size, because 
 we thought it would be rather nice to have them uniform, in case 
 of visitors. All the old school-books in the neighborhood (they 
 had been brought along from the states) had been gathered up, 
 and even then there was but one text-book, of any kind, for every 
 three pupils, and we had to piece-out, as far as they would go, 
 with half a dozen testaments, left in the neighborhood from time 
 to time by the missionaries who occasionally came that way. 
 These we gave to the boys who looked to us to be best calculated 
 for preachers — and we impressed upon their minds the noble aims 
 they should aspire to ; and advised them to strive hard during the 
 term to commit their testaments to memory, ' from kiver to kiver,' 
 and otherwise fit themselves to become missionaries to the South 
 Sea Islands, or to Chicago, where missionaries were so badly need- 
 ed ; that although they might be stewed or fried for breakfast by 
 the uncouth natives, not to allow such a trifling matter to dampen 
 their ardor — because, if they did that with them, the act would 
 speak louder than any words in the cannibal language to the ef- 
 fect that they were good missionaries. 
 
 Our lecture to our missionary students had a very good effect 
 on them, for the time being, and they seemed fully and prop- 
 erly impressed with the seriousness and ' ' highness ' ' of their 
 calling. In the course of the first week we found it necessary to 
 chastise the whole school, excepting three of the theological stu- 
 dents and the big girl. On the second Monday morning, we in- 
 troduced a fresh invoice of beech gads, and unbuttoned the upper 
 button of our red flannel shirt ; we also tightened our belt one hole 
 and thumped our wishbone savagely a few times in front of the 
 assembled students. Our seat was off in one end of the apart- 
 ment, and after giving them a severe lecture on their duty to their 
 teacher, who was suffering so much for them, we retreated to our 
 corner, to ' ' lay low ' ' for the young villain who should furnish 
 us with the first job for that day. 
 
 We had been sitting for a few minutes, engaged in " mend- 
 ing ' ' a goose-quill pen for one of the scholars with our barlow- 
 knife, when a big black hornet, about the size of a young robin, 
 slowly arose from the floor near our seat. We coolly reached for 
 our home-made coonskin cap and mashed him down violently, and 
 
2i8 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 jumped on him with both feet. The students tittered upon see- 
 ing how nicely and how bravely their teacher had disposed of 
 him, as we inferred, and we felt a little pardonable pride, ourself. 
 About the time we slammed that hornet do^vn on the floor, two 
 or three others came up from somewhere about there and made a 
 pass at us ; we told the school not to become uneasy, because we 
 were equal to any reasonable number of hornets, even of that 
 giant species; to just remain seated, and they would see an ele- 
 gant fight — and with that, we became exceedingly busy with 
 both hands and each of our moccasined feet. Pretty soon one of 
 the terrible insects backed up against our lower-lip, and it felt as 
 if a fish-hook had been shot into us. By this time, about a peck 
 of hornets boiled out from under our seat ; seveial of them mean- 
 dered up our trowser-legs, and several more got in their work 
 about our head, until within a minute from the beginning of the 
 fight, our head looked like a harvest moon, and still the hornets 
 kept increasing in numbers. The students, by this time, were 
 climbing out at the windows and door, whooping and laughing fit 
 to split. Pretty soon our eyes began to close, our under-lip pro- 
 truded until we could see it, and our ears must have resembled 
 saddle-flaps — beside, our lower extremities were in an agony of 
 pain. We at last made a break for liberty, and made out to find 
 our way home with the sight of one eye, before it also "went 
 shut." 
 
 At the end of two weeks we were able to be about again, and 
 then learned how it was that we had become so effectually ' ' hom- 
 eted." One of the missionary students had become incensed be- 
 cause we had walloped a chum of his, and he entered into a con- 
 spiracy with many of the others, to pay us off. He had procured 
 an immense hornet's nest, plugged the hole up, tied a string to 
 the plug, placed the nest just back of the pedagogical seat, and 
 had the string run along the floor close to the wall to his own 
 seat ; the rest of his program needs no elucidation ; sufl5ce it to 
 say, his plan worked beautifully. We resigned our position in 
 favor of the "big girl," and our aspirations have never since run 
 in the direction of school-teaching ; nor do we like young men 
 who only say they'd like to study for the missionary business. 
 
ODD HOURS. 219 
 
 TOOK GREAT CHANCES. 
 
 Upon entering our ivy -clad and fern-embanked cottage a few 
 evenings ago, our numerous flock of little folk proceeded to relate 
 to us that a man had been there during the hours in which we 
 had been absent, toiling in the regulation way for means with 
 which to fill the mouths of our little home-birds. The toil con- 
 sists chiefly in prying out of our think-tank a few very com- 
 monplace ideas that we dignify by calling editorials, which are 
 largely written with a pair of shears. When not thus engaged, 
 we are mostly leaning back in an easy chair, feet on the table — 
 American fashion — thinking about nothing. The man who had 
 called was the poll-tax collector. He left a notice which read : 
 
 "Sir — You are hereby notified to appear on Saturday, the 
 
 day of , 1 90-, at the comer of street and avenue, 
 
 at 7 a. m., sharp, provided with pick and shovel, to work on the 
 highways of the village, etc., etc. (Signed) 
 
 , Village Marshal." 
 
 Now, such a notice was rather startling to a man who was 
 under the impression that he had nothing to tax. But it seems 
 as though a man was bom to be taxed. This poll-tax is hard to 
 understand ; it strikes one about so often, whether he owns a pal- 
 ace or a dog — or nothing. It seems they charge a man for just 
 Walking around on the ground — the earth, which was made for 
 the free use of man, likewise women and children. Or, for the 
 air he breathes, which is so plentiful around here that no reason- 
 able tax-gatherer would think of charging for the little we use ; 
 after a person breathes up all he can of it, there is a whole sky- 
 full of it left, that has never been touched — enough to supply 
 St. IvOuis for a week, without warming over — and such air ! 
 
 The village marshal evidently didn't know that it would have 
 been dangerous, if not positively disastrous to the town, had 
 we responded to his call — which we did not do. There are men 
 who can safely be let loose with a pick and shovel to work out 
 their poll-tax ; they are moderate workers, who perform this an- 
 nual duty as if determined to leave a whole lot of the ' ' poll ' ' over 
 for the next year's consideration — they are not inclined to be pig- 
 gish in this sort of an instance, and " turnpike" the whole coun- 
 try in exchange for an imaginary dollar and a half. They labor 
 
220 UNCI.E DUDLEY'S 
 
 moderately, so as not to deprive future generations of the enjoy- 
 ment of working on the roads for imaginary shekels. We are not 
 that kind of a man, however, when yoked in with a pick and a 
 shovel. We never intend to be mean, but when once we grapple 
 the business-end of a pick or shovel, it is simply awful to see the 
 dirt change locations. Of course we did not respond to the mar- 
 shal's call, because we knew that he was not aware of our char- 
 acter as a pick and shovel manipulator ; and, having no grudge 
 against the town, we forebore working out our tax. It could not 
 but prove calamitous to turn us loose to work on the streets, be- 
 cause, when once started, we could not be shut off until the whole 
 hill, for several blocks, would be shoveled into the lake ; build- 
 ings would be wrecked, and many people killed, or maimed for 
 life, the rocks rolled over into Wisconsin, and the sub-soil that 
 underlies the town would be pulled up by the roots and heaved 
 into the suburbs, where it wasn't needed. There would be an 
 awful hub-bub all around this region, and although we should 
 undoubtedly create beautiful streets and boulevards, much of the 
 town would be at least partially destroyed. There is no use in 
 the marshal's attempting to urge us, because we are much better 
 acquainted with the notified party than he is. If he could see us 
 pull up a cistern or a well, and toss the hole over into the adjoin- 
 ing county, he would at once perceive that it would be very un- 
 wise for him to mention such matters to us. If his honor is a fit 
 man for village marshal, he will note this warning, and call at 
 our ofiice and get his dollar-and-a-half , with which to square that 
 mysterious obligation called a "poll-tax," and save trouble, and 
 also the town. 
 
 " I WILL drink vinegar, rancid milk, boneset tea, or garlic- 
 juice, and call them good. But I will never again take to my 
 lips any intoxicating liquid, though it be nectar, offered me by 
 the hand of a queen in her palace." This is what we heard him 
 declare a few days ago. He was "swearing off," in true conven- 
 tional style. The following day, however, he was absorbing the 
 contents of a dirty bottle, in a still dirtier groggery, and swearing 
 that he would ' ' lead the honest working men ' ' up against the 
 ramparts of the greedy capitalists, and wouldn't charge a cent for 
 his services, either. And then he gurgled the dirty bottle again. 
 
ODD HOURS. 221 
 
 A TEST OF PATIENCE. 
 
 The snow has been "too thin" for real good hauling, yet 
 our wood-haulers have been trying to make the best of it. One 
 of our green-oak ' ' grangers ' ' got stuck in the street the other 
 day, and his patience was put to the severest test. He seemed to 
 be a very nervous man, and the tongue of his sled was a very bad 
 affair ; the pair of bony mules, too, seemed to consider that they 
 had pulled that cord of green oak around about as far as was at 
 all necessary. They stopped on rather a bare spot in the street, 
 and looked wistfully around at the driver ; the driver said, " Git," 
 but neither of them " got ;" he tickled their after-deck vigorously 
 with the brad, but they simply passed him up a couple, which 
 came near landing on his shins. Then he climbed down off his 
 load, and tickled them some more, at ann's-length, with the brad, 
 between decks ; one sprang forward, and the other stood on his 
 head, in order to get his heels as high up as possible, and then 
 the sled-tongue pulled out of the roller ; thereupon he said, 
 ' ' Whoa ! ' ' and made one or two other remarks that the occasion 
 probably warranted, though they seemed somewhat foreign to the 
 subject in hand. He procured a rope and secured the tongue to 
 the roller ; then he put his brad where it was thought it might 
 do the most good ; the crowd, who had gathered about, general- 
 ly expressed the belief that all w^ould soon come right. The 
 mules tightened up on the traces, when the front end of the 
 tongue came out of the neckyoke, and the rear end of the tongue 
 pulled out of the rope. Then, the captain of the craft walked 
 clear around the load, carefully inspecting everything, including 
 the mules, to see if anything else had pulled out. Members of 
 the crowd standing about, offered a multitude of "suggestions," 
 all of which conspired to make our granger friend more than ord- 
 inarily nervous, because of their character ; he took the tongue 
 and put it up on the load, thinking probably it might make wood ; 
 then he walked around the mules and said "Whoa!" again, 
 which seemed to correspond with their idea of the matter exactly. 
 Then he hitched the doubletree to the roller by means of the rope, 
 and when everything was right he told them to whoa ! which 
 they continued to do. He geed them off sort of oliliquely, so the 
 whole craft might not be thrown upon its beam-ends, and he then 
 
222 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 added a few with his brad, in the nigh-mule's stomach ; the ani- 
 mals took a tack to the sou' west, the rope came untied, and the 
 off-mule kicked up; the granger repeated a few stanzas, in such 
 a manner that the more pious members of the crowd ducked. He 
 finally induced the mules to stand up by the sidewalk and whoa, 
 while he went and borrowed a chain, and a team of horses that 
 didn't know as much about that load of green oak as the mules 
 seemed to remember, and the sled disappeared around the corner. 
 
 A "RATTLER." 
 
 A FEW evenings ago, while cooling off down near the river, 
 and incidentally regaling our appetite with a few wild goose-ber- 
 ries, our wayward goose-berry steps were suddenly interrupted 
 by a three-foot rattlesnake, which was loitering along the same 
 rather blind pathway. He was probably out looking up the 
 chances for a stray frog or two, or possibly for a strolling editor. 
 After looking one another over for a few minutes we, on our part, 
 retreated and began looking for a long club or pole with which to 
 wipe him off the face of the earth. No pole is too long for our 
 use when we wish to hold a palaver with a rattlesnake. Upon 
 returning to the place, we found that he had shouldered his rat- 
 tle-box and disappeared. Of course, not knowing just where he 
 might be, among the weeds thereabout, and it being possible that 
 he might be right around our feet somewhere, we felt it our duty 
 to posterity and the rest of mankind, ourself included, to get out 
 of that. If our friends had witnessed their beloved Uncle " get- 
 ting out of that " — as soon as he made up his mind that it was a 
 duty to do so — they would have noted that it wasn't necessary to 
 have a keg of dynamite under him in order to get him up to the 
 top of the hill again. A leaping kangaroo wouldn't have been in 
 the race, at all, with the editor of The Gtm Wad, as he came up 
 into the brighter light of the sunlit plateau. When we got up 
 the hill and on top of the fence, and found by a close inspection, 
 that the serpent wasn't hanging to any part of our pantaloons, or 
 to our coat-tail, we sat there and fanned ourself with a dock-leaf 
 for some time. Our nerves, as we discovered, had been consid- 
 erably touched by the episode. If any one thing can "rattle" us 
 
ODD HOURS. 223 
 
 more than atay other thing, it is a rattle-snake — it seems to be a 
 specialty of theirs — and we " rattle " rather easy, anyway. We 
 never cared so very much for goose-berries, at best — especially 
 those down under the hill by the river. If any one wants our 
 share of them they can get them at any time, and also our inter- 
 est in the rattlesnake. The next time we go goose -berrying our 
 trousseau will consist of sheet-iron boots, tin towsers and a two- 
 hole shotgun. 
 
 IT WAS SOAP. 
 
 During a considerable number of moons as a country jour- 
 nalist, we had become quite an adept at handling agents, and 
 could guess their ' ' line ' ' about the minute they entered our do- 
 main. For a long time they conquered us on sight ; at last, how- 
 ever — when we had the back room filled with everything, from a 
 patent pill to the latest flytrap, and from a garden hoe to burglar- 
 proof sash-fasteners, the latest chum, and scores of other "easy" 
 articles, and after having designated ourself as all sorts of a gul- 
 lible chump — we began to brace up, until we actually refused to 
 buy their wares even with " fifty off because we were an editor," 
 and one or two of them we came near throwing outdoor through 
 the transom. They are a clannish tribe, putting one another on 
 whenever they meet, and it seemed at last that there wasn't an 
 agent of any sort in the Northwest but knew he was sure of at 
 least one sale in our town, whenever it might suit his or her con- 
 venience to come our way. When these facts had finally soaked 
 through our density, and reached our understanding, and we fully 
 realized what a guy these agents were making of us, we patted 
 ourself on the back and made one or two resolutions. After that 
 when they came in upon us they found us loaded for bear, and 
 in a month's time money couldn't hire an agent to pass along the 
 side of the street where The Gun Wad was located. To go into 
 the really sad details of that month's work among the agents 
 might prove too much for the nerves, particularly of our lady 
 readers, so we forbear ; and beside, some of our good people might 
 think we had been a "bad man" in our time, and such an im- 
 pression we do not wish any one to entertain — barring the agents. 
 Because, if there is any example we love to emulate, it is that of 
 
224 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 the lamb, or the turtle-dove. A person, to handle agents suc- 
 cessfully, must be in continual touch with them ; it is an art in 
 which one grows ' ' rusty ' ' more quickly than in any other we 
 know of — unless it be his religious duties. Agents, like great 
 generals, are born — not made. As strategists they far oversha- 
 dow the average smooth-bore general. There are many persons, 
 however, who think themselves born agents, but after a trial they 
 find themselves occupying the same relative position to the real, 
 sure enough agent that a spring poet does to I^ongfellow, or that 
 a mock-orange bears to a California navel. 
 
 Upon assuming the role of a hermit editor, and retreating to 
 our present rural nook, we felt full sure that such a thing as an 
 agent would never cross our trail again — but alas ! Even here 
 have we met up with several of him, as well as with an occasional 
 her. They seem positively ubiquitous. What makes it bad, too, 
 is the fact of our being completely out of practice again. We 
 used to know just where to grab for 'em, after several polite re- 
 fusals had failed to rescue us from the folds of their deadly 
 tongues, but somehow we have either lost our cunning, or our 
 sand, or both. The result is, we meet them, and are theirs — as 
 in the olden time. Whether we shall ever again be able to work 
 ourself up into a wasp-waisted cyclone and do up these agents, 
 remains to be seen ; it is doubtful, as our former bent that way 
 has been badly bent. More than likely we shall form our print- 
 er's devil and the oiO&ce towel into a fighting squad and turn the 
 more malignant cases over to them, giving them half the " sam- 
 ples" secured, as salvage. 
 
 There is, to be liberal, about one in a thousand of these 
 door-pushers who are really "enjoyable," when one feels — regard- 
 less of the probable facts — that there are no sorrows to follow 
 closely upon the heels of their urbanity. Such an one came in 
 upon us a few days ago in the person of an elderly lady of distin- 
 guished appearance, agreeable presence, and a ready talker. Now, 
 it may not be generally known, but the fact is that all agents are 
 more or less gifted as talkers — generally " more." We have never 
 met one who was dumb, or even tongue-tied, or one who stut- 
 tered, unless in the case of a distillery agent who had drunk up 
 all his samples just before we met him. On the contrary, most 
 agents are afflicted with a very touching hemorrhage of the mouth. 
 
ODD HOURS. 225 
 
 The lady in question came in, appearing exactly as many other 
 ladies do, who are given to calling upon "interesting" editors, 
 and such like, and was very soon deeply engrossed in the work 
 being performed by the rest of the force — namely, the printer's 
 devil, who was distributing a galley of "pi" at the time. For 
 some time she paid, apparently at least, but little or no attention 
 to the " headlight" of the place, as he sat quietly at his comer- 
 table trying to round up a word he couldn't think of — he had 
 captured the idea the day before. We had barely noticed that 
 she carried a small grip on the index finger of her left hand, but 
 readily concluded that she was from abroad, and that the little 
 satchel contained a few doughnuts and a "weinee" or two, for 
 the occasional refreshment of the inner man — or woman. Pretty 
 soon, however, the lady suddenly turned full upon us, slammed 
 the little imitation-alligator grip down on top of the radiator just 
 where we thaw out our paste-pot, opened it up and began saying 
 something. It was a sort of song in the key of " g," and we in- 
 stantly realized our desperate situation. That old creepy feeling 
 suddenly telegraphed itself from heel to crown, and that paralyz- 
 ing, hypnotic influence crept all over our bod}^ including the 
 chair and table, until the ink curdled and the paste began to sour. 
 The first thing we remembered distinctly, after the shock had 
 done its worst, was her saying that she was the state agent, and 
 was simply placing samples where she thought it would do the 
 most good, or was needed the worst, we don't exactly remember 
 which, and it was soap ! Two kinds of soap — one, a medicinal 
 toilet soap, the other warranted to knock the tar, or grease (we 
 forget which) out of anything from an over-ripe sock to a silk 
 hat, without injuring the color. She kindly offered us a cake of 
 each, and expressed a wish that we should use them ; there was 
 no charge, further than that if it succeeded in putting us into 
 presentable form we should simply mention the fact to any friends 
 we might have, who knew us before "the change." The lady 
 was very kind, and there being such an apparent absence of any 
 sinister motive in it all, that we promised to do as she requested 
 — during the first suitable weather, when the danger of catching 
 cold would be reduced to a minimum. Therefore we say there is 
 about one in a thousand among agents, with whom it is a pleas- 
 ure to meet ; and, so far as we can see at this writing, this lady 
 
226 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 must be one of these exceptions. P. S. — Regular traveling sales- 
 men are not referred to herein. I^ike assessors, they are a neces- 
 sary evil — and beside, they are good " story-tellers," 
 
 "ECONOMY IS WEALTH." 
 
 Most editors are always on the lookout for economical open- 
 ings in the line of cheap raiment. Economy has become a habit 
 with them, bred of necessity for the most part, until they finally 
 get to enjoy it more than almost anything else. In looking over 
 their scores of exchange papers, in quest of editorials, they are 
 sure to keep an eye out for "Bargains," "Closing out" sacri- 
 fices, "Smoked goods" sales, or anything else that may tend to 
 help out their domestic economy. They are generally men of 
 correct taste, and have a longing to appear equal, in the matter 
 of apparel, with other members of the business swim. In order 
 to do this, their pocket-book (if they happen to have one) ad- 
 monishes them to look sharp after the "main chance." This is 
 all preliminary to the announcement that the writer is liable to 
 appear one of these days in a white collar of the latest pattern, 
 just received from one of the fashion centers of the ej^ete East — 
 " effete " works in here all right, so far as we know. In line with 
 our professional propensity, \ye clapped our eye on an advertise- 
 ment a few days ago which informed everybody who wanted to 
 know, that a Boston firm would forward to any address a pair of 
 cuffs and a pair of collars for two stamps. Now, this was one of 
 the chances that always fascinate an economical editor, and we 
 "fascinated" to the proposition with a commendable readiness. 
 Placing ourself in correspondence with this benevolent firm, we 
 at once forwarded the two stamps, but with a request that they 
 leave out the cuffs and add another collar, if it was all the same 
 to them — as we could pull down our wristbands so that they would 
 probably show enough to answer all ordinary purposes, unless it 
 might be a " pink tea ' ' function ; but that not being the color of 
 the "tea" we drank, it would not matter. What made this offer 
 from the haberdasherj' firm located at the "hub," or great Amer- 
 ican "bean-pot," especially attractive, was the fact that they 
 guaranteed the goods to be not only made of "fine cloth," but 
 
ODD HOURS. 227 
 
 that they were absolutely " reversible" — that when one side be- 
 came soiled, the wearer could whop 'em over, and the side ex- 
 posed to the public gaze would still discount a Dakota snowdrift 
 in its purity of shade. This was surely an extraordinary offer — 
 practically, six collars for four cents, and only the price of wash- 
 ing three collars, at the laundry ! At that rate, editors might 
 dress up to the line with other people, and if like offers could be 
 found for the other articles of dress, there seemed nothing in the 
 way of their being able to join a steel trust — if the cheap goods 
 held out, and they lived long enough. The three collars arrived 
 in due time, and they seem to be absolutely " out of sight" — in 
 whiteness, style, neatness, reversibility, and in every way, except- 
 ing the "fine cloth." Even that way be all right ; though not 
 at all visible to the naked eye (possibly because of its extreme 
 fineness), it may be there in the spirit. In fact we suspect that 
 to be the manner of its presence. Were it not there, in some form 
 or other, this Boston firm must needs be story-tellers, with a big 
 "S," and we cannot, for a moment, suspect a Boston man of 
 working off a falsehood on an unsuspecting, honest editor, whose 
 only crime was that of trying to get something for nothing. At 
 all events, we are just about read now, to appear at any recep- 
 tions or banquets that may come our way ; all we lack, is to per- 
 suade our better-half to cut a piece off one of the tails of our neck- 
 tie, that doesn't, show, and with the amputated piece, put a half- 
 sole on the upper " frontspiece " where we wear our glass pin. 
 With this improvement, and a few other trifling repairs, we very 
 much expect to prove the neatest pattern at the ball. 
 
 I.OVE, AND WHERE LOCATED. 
 
 Some one asks us why it is generally assumed that love is an 
 affection of the heart — what proof can be presented that the tender 
 passion is so located. Also, "What is love, anyway?" Well, 
 really ! Editors are supposed to be able to answer almost any 
 sort of conundrum ; but there are many, where the average, go- 
 as-you-please editor can only answer at them — love being one of 
 the number. Webster has many definitions of " love," — the ord- 
 inary variety, which prefers a darkened drawingroom, a humble 
 
228 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 chimney-comer when the fire is low, the kitchen steps after " the 
 girl ' ' has her work done and James has his horses put to bed 
 with their shoes on, as well as the more spiritual love known as 
 "adoration." The latter, however, we are not expected, nor 
 asked to deal with, by our correspondent. Even Webster does 
 not attempt to locate the tender passion — he dare not risk his rep- 
 utation for knowing things by attempting it. So far as our own 
 experience teaches, we could never make out exactly where this 
 passion resided. It never seemed to hurt any more in one spot 
 than another. In fact, we never took notice, at the time when it 
 was surging the most violently, but are of the opinion that it was 
 a sort of universal flood. We think it just as likely to be located 
 in the hand, lips, eyes or end of the nose, as in the heart. In fact, 
 the latter organ has so much to attend to, in keeping the machin- 
 ery going, that it can have very little time to look after outside 
 matters such as transient business or " custom work," while many 
 other organs have little else to do, and could just as well 'tend to 
 it as not. It is probable that, in a good many cases, it is only in 
 the mind ; in which case evaporation is liable to set in at any 
 time, in the event of a sudden shock, or an additional observation 
 or two. As to what love is, Mr. Webster hunts up so many ex- 
 planations of the mental phenomenon, that he rather kills them 
 all. We imagine it to be a sort of latent madness, imbedded in 
 nearly everybody's makeup, somewhere, until a "spark" comes 
 in contact with it, when it becomes active, and goes "bang!" 
 Sometimes both are hit, sometimes only one, and occasionally it 
 transpires that neither one was wounded, to speak of — they only 
 thought they were. It may be a liquid akin to tears, otherwise 
 how could it " gush," or " surge?" When a young man sees his 
 sweetheart talking and laughing with some other young man, it 
 is then that his love surges with the greatest amount of surge, 
 and seems at that time to become liquid fire ; hydrophobia would 
 only be a mild case of whooping-cough by comparison with this 
 fiery liquidity. The heart could never contain this feeling, and 
 at the same time attend to its regular business of keeping the hu- 
 man boiler pumped up — it would either collapse a flue or explode 
 and blow the roof off. Hence we consider this fact a large point 
 in favor of some other location as the seat of the affections ; and, 
 too, we have known men who dare not deny that all the love they 
 
ODD HOURS. 229 
 
 ever possessed for anybody or anything was located in their stom- 
 ach — they loved their stomach, and their stomach loved them. 
 Others we have known whose whole love was centered in their 
 pocketbook ; their whole life being given to adoration of the gol- 
 den calf, trj'ing to coax it off its pedestal and into their leathern 
 wallet, or in buying "gold-bricks" for lawyers, after they were 
 dead. The sourest old bachelor, who never had any love for even 
 himself, is an angel, compared with either of the human freaks 
 last mentioned — but we wander. L,ove is not infallible in its op- 
 erations, even when it is a case of five years' standing. Still, long 
 tests of the affections are safest. " I^ove at first sight" frequent- 
 ly leads in a pretty straight line to the divorce courts, and is a 
 breeder of lawyers' fees and of judges' perplexities. The lawyers 
 generally favor that style of love, in others, and is what they call 
 malice-aforethought, with a fat retainer just appearing over the 
 horizon. But, whether love is seated in the heart, gizzard, hand, 
 lips, or elsewhere ; and, whether it is a liquid, solid, mind, or air, 
 it is, all the same, a good thing to have in the house, provided it 
 is carefully and properly handled. It is like dynamite, however, 
 and will not stand too much jolting or bumping around. Love, if 
 misplaced, or allowed to straj^ about too much in nooks and cor- 
 ners where it does not legitimately belong, is liable to change its 
 mysterious character into something resembling an earthquake. 
 Therefore we advise all — and particularly new beginners — to study 
 its subtleties very carefully as they progress in life, then they'll 
 reduce the chances of getting hurt. Never mistake a slight flut- 
 tering in the side, for love ; it may only be a little pleurisy-pain, 
 which can be allayed by soaking the feet in hot water and mus- 
 tard, and drinking a pint of strong ginger-tea just before going 
 to bed. This will sweat it out, unless it be a really "solid" case. 
 
 DOGS, ONLY RELIABLE AS DOGS. 
 
 A DOG isn't the most reliable creature in all the wide world, 
 excepting as a dog. You may cut his tail off, pull off his 
 "bark," harness him up and play horse with him, but the only 
 way you can possibly make anything else out of a dog is to work 
 him up into sausage ; and even then, the dog will stick out. A 
 
230 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 dog has a legitimate place in the world, however, and can find a 
 good deal to do that no other animal can do. The average dog 
 belongs to a class that have so many kinds of blood in them that 
 any kind of bet can be made as to breed, and both parties to the 
 wager may win, no matter if they bet in clubs of a dozen or more. 
 He becomes at this stage of his evolution, a "quicker dog"^he 
 would quicker lie around and snap flies than attend to any sort 
 of business. These are, with a few honorable exceptions, the 
 style of dog the boys of this town " work to sled." They can, 
 after a good deal of patient training, do a tolerably fair stroke at 
 " horse," because they have no particular ambition, and will con- 
 sent to be pounded into almost anything ; although it takes a boy 
 with a rugged constitution to maul one of them into any remark- 
 able aptitude as the puller of a sled. There is but one thing in 
 the world that will stir up one of these dogs worse than a bushel 
 of fleas, and that is the sight of a cat ; a cat is about the only 
 thing left that the^ fully realize, so to speak, or have anj^ pas^ 
 sionate taste for. Of course, after enough mauling, even the 
 sight of a cat doesn't agitate them so very much, but the cat 
 habit cannot be fully beaten out of them until about the last sea- 
 son of their usefulness as "boy horses;" so, the only way in 
 which a boy can always have a safe and reliable dog-horse, is to 
 keep a few dogs pounded ahead. One of them was leisurely trot- 
 ting down the avenue the other day, and the driver, with lines in 
 hand, was enjoying the fine scenery, breathing the health -giving 
 morning air, and occasionally staining the snow with a liberal ex- 
 pectoration from his pa's most recent plug, left exposed in an 
 ' ' easy ' ' drawer. When about half way down the hill, something 
 took occasion to occur. The occurrence proved conclusively that 
 this particular dog, so far from having the " cat " all mauled out 
 of him, was just ripe for cats. One of them came jumping along 
 out of a side alley, and although a cat usually uses great precau- 
 tion, and seldom leaps before she looks, this one bounded into the 
 avenue just a few feet ahead of the dog. About this time there 
 was something doing, and the boy's regular sleigh-ride began. 
 He didn't have time to tell the dog that he needn't be in a hurry, 
 nor to say anything, in particular. The cat had occasion to go 
 down across the railroad into " fisherman's alley," and it seemed 
 to strike the dog that he also had a little business down that way 
 
ODD HOURS. 231 
 
 — so, they both commenced going immediately ; the sled also 
 started down in that general direction, likewise the boy. ' The 
 whole establishment seemed to have been behind time, and was 
 bound to ' ' make the schedule ' ' by the time the next station was 
 reached, or tear the rails loose in the attempt. The boy took a 
 death-grip on the sled, attending to nothing whatever, excepting 
 his regular business of hanging on, and exhausting tobacco-juice. 
 The cat, meantime, was attending strictly to business, and the 
 dog pursued his way, reaching for the cat's tail every time they 
 both happened to strike the ground at the same time. The light 
 snow, so violently disturbed along the way by such velocity, 
 assumed the appearance of a hollow, horizontal pillar of fog, for 
 half a mile, and the only way we could see how they were mak- 
 ing it, was to run out to the street and peek into the end. At 
 last, they turned a comer down on the point, all well together, 
 the boy's legs flying around like the arms of a Dutch wind-mill. 
 We are sorry to say that although we went down to that part of 
 the city as soon as possible, and spent some time in investigation 
 and inquiry, we failed to ascertain definitely where or how it all 
 ended. The people of the alley, until we explained, thought it 
 was a "sky-stone" that had gone through in that quarter, and 
 were very much agitated. All that could be found, was some 
 cat-fur, a dog-collar, a demolished outhouse, a sled-runner and 
 some pieces of a boy's coat. It is probable that the whole train 
 went into one of the fish-holes out on the lake, and we should ad- 
 vise every family in town to take a special account of stock, and 
 see who it is that is short a boy, about twelve years old, wearing 
 a red peaked cap, a blue wammus, and a brindle dog. 
 
 SATURDAY NIGHT. 
 
 This is Saturday night. It is somewhat similar in most re- 
 spects to any other night. The sun sets in the west, as is usual 
 with it, the robin is singing his customary even' -song, and the 
 gentle kine are approaching the corral to the time of the tinkling 
 bell, as is their wont. The honest toiler has left the factory, and 
 is sauntering along, with weary pace, toward the meat-market to 
 purchase a joint for the Sunday dinner. His empty dinner-pail 
 
232 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 swings lightly on his arm. We know it is empty, because we 
 can hear the knife-and-fork, inside, playing hop-scotch with the 
 spoon. We know it is Saturday night ; there are scores of maid- 
 ens on the street, airing their newest gowns, and blowing the dust 
 out of their barn-yard ostritch feathers. For a more satisfactory 
 examination of these ornaments, be seated in a rear pew on the 
 day that follows Saturday night — the newest things in spring 
 hats and gowns will be there. Saturday night, the domestic cir- 
 cle will draw closer to the tea-table, and remain ' ' circled ' ' a little 
 longer than it did on Monday morning for breakfast. The reason 
 for this needs no lengthy explanation. Saturday night produces 
 the laboring man's happy hour, if he has any. It is the only 
 hour in the working-week that he hasn' t sold for ten to fifteen 
 cents apiece. It is the hour when he enjoys the privilege of saw- 
 ing wood enough, by moonlight, to last over the next week. He 
 don't carry the wash-water until Sunday evening, after it gets 
 too dark for people to see him. Saturday night is a big thing, 
 when considering that it happens so late in the week. It is a time 
 toward which the laboring man looks with considerable interest, 
 because it is the time when he gets his "little six dollars," pro- 
 vided his employer has had good luck in making collections, or 
 hasn't made an assignment for the consternation of his creditors. 
 The rich man doesn't care which night it is ; he labors not, nei- 
 ther does he spin — any to speak of. He would a little rather, 
 however, that it w^as Saturday night of the week previous, be- 
 cause as it is, he has one week less in which to enjoy his wealth ; 
 still, another week's interest has accrued on his stocks and bonds, 
 and that "helps some." Both rich and poor, however, have their 
 peculiar troubles. We believe, upon mature reflection, that we 
 should rather bear the troubles of the rich than those of the poor ; 
 we have a penchant for trying something new — something sort of 
 fresh. The other kind has become rather monotonous. If there 
 is any rich man in this community who has grown weary of his 
 kind of trouble, he will please address unlocked box No. oo, or 
 call on us at the old stand, and we shall be pleased to ' ' spell ' ' 
 him for ninety -nine years, or longer if he desires ; not that we 
 care a continental about our sort of trouble, but just because 
 "being rich" is the only thing we haven't tried, and we do not 
 wish to depart the earth without testing its miseries. But, we 
 
ODD HOURS. 233 
 
 digress. This is Saturday night. If you are in doubt about it, 
 just notice to-morrow how many of our citizens will be stealing 
 out of town, with their guns buttoned up inside their spring over- 
 coats — the muzzle-end of the guns sticking down below said coat 
 about a foot, unbeknown to the wearers thereof. 
 
 TOUGH STORIES. 
 
 The Russians, says a certain writer, live in their cold coun- 
 txy in great comfort. Among other items, he tells us that they 
 can stand more heat, as well as more cold, "than any other 
 man." That even in the humblest cots, a monster stove is afford- 
 ed, and in all cases is the principal article of furniture, etc. His 
 story, in the main, seemed reasonable enough, but when he winds 
 up by saying that the more humble Russians very frequently 
 sleep on top of their stoves, we begin to waver as a believer ; and, 
 when he further asserts that, " Indeed, they very frequently sleep 
 in the stove," we desire him to understand that there is a limit 
 to even a Yankee's credulity. It tries the elasticity of our guli- 
 ble nature almost as severely as the story related to us, once 
 upon a time, by a fellow, concerning a wild Indian he met awa}' 
 out on the plains. He went on to relate what a magnificent spe- 
 cimen of the "noble red man" he was-^tall, always beautifully 
 dressed, gorgeously and tastefully painted, the gaudiest feathers 
 adorning his head-dress, wonderfully intelligent, and so scrupu- 
 lously clean and tidy in his person. We drank in all the details 
 concerning this grandly beautiful wild man of the plains, with 
 great relish, though he certainly discounted anything in the In- 
 dian line we had ever noticed in our frontier peregrinations. The 
 narrator, however, went just one step too far, and as a believer 
 in his narrative we were suddenly transformed into a mass of 
 desolation. " Why ! " he exclaimed, "this Indian was so neat 
 that he would as soon thought of scalping himself as he would 
 have thought of sitting down to eat his dog-stew without first 
 having carefully cleaned his finger-nails." That statement ended 
 the entertainment ; and we have always believed since, that he 
 never saw an Indian in all his born days — unless it might have 
 been a wooden tobacco sign. 
 
234 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 A NEW LITERARY CLUB. 
 
 A SELECT little feminine "bunch," as we learn, have organ- 
 ized themselves into a literary club here, the general object in 
 view being the improvement of their minds, with the special ob- 
 ject of becoming "readers," or " oratoresses," or something of 
 the like. It is only just a " little bit of a club," you know, and we 
 are not advised as to whether it is open to farther membership or 
 not — but think not. They probably fear that the market might 
 become overstocked were they to open wide the doors of member- 
 ship, and that female orators would become a drug on the mar- 
 ket. We are not sure but they are right, and withal for-seeing, 
 in thus early guarding the interests of the profession. Because, 
 if too many Mrs. L's and Mrs. N's were to get loose in the West 
 and Northwest, life might become "perfectly horrid" to the citi- 
 zens thereof. Their meeting-place is kept a secret, as they do not 
 fancy any one's seeing them pawing the atmosphere and cobwebs 
 in their den, until they are ready to paw for fifty cents a ticket — 
 children half-price, with special rates to Sunday-schools and tem- 
 perance clubs. Well, all this is most commendable, and we sin- 
 cerely hope they may "keep it up." It shows their ambitions to 
 be running in the right direction, and stamps them as being con- 
 siderably above the common frivolities of the time, and shows they 
 realize that there are one or two things in this world worth striv- 
 ing for aside from the boss spring-hat or a Trilby skirt. It re- 
 quires an able-bodied streak of nerve, and a firm purpose, for 
 half-a-dozen females to go out into the dark, and sort of feel their 
 way to an unoccupied building, then creep up stairways to the 
 attic (think of the mice, cockroaches, and things), and there, in 
 the spooky silence, light a match that cracks like a pistol in the 
 noiseless apartment. Then, as it flares up and brings out menac- 
 ing shadows from the ghost-land all about them, they light the 
 little glass lamp they have brought with them, and prepare for 
 the rehearsal. The lamp's little No. i burner only serves to con- 
 vert the black darkness into a "pale and spooky perspective," 
 with the face of each brought into uncertain and uncanny view. 
 Then they call themselves to order — after looking under all the 
 old benches and into the open side of the big box that serves as a 
 
ODD HOURS. 235 
 
 speaker's table — one is called to the floor and the rehearsal begins. 
 She arises, bows to the supposed audience, gazes up into the 
 darkened heights, where the silken webs are but dimly discema- 
 ble, and begins — 
 
 "They s-t-a-n-d, like stately sentinels, 
 A-b-o-v-e my 1-i-t-t-l-e home!" 
 
 About this time, the critic for the evening calls her down, and 
 gives her a lecture on her "bad breaks" in style, voice, gesture, 
 pose, or whatever the " breaks" consisted of. After they all have 
 expressed their ideas upon the defects, etc., she begins again, get- 
 ting the "dwells," emphasis, and various other matters, a little 
 different : 
 
 ' ' They stand 1-i-k-e stately s-e-n-t-i-n-e-1-s 
 Above m-y little h-o-m-e ; 
 [We infer it is trees she is talking about.] 
 
 And s-t-r-e-t-c-h their w-i-d-e projecting a-r-m-s 
 Above its modest d-o-m-e ! ' ' 
 
 Or words to that effect. The little lamp glows on with its puny 
 illumination, and when the eloquence is finally at its best, the lit- 
 tle thing nearly goes out, and flares up and sputters whenever the 
 air is made to throb by the parts where the sky-scraping (or cob- 
 web sweeping) periods are brought in. As before intimated, how- 
 ever, we glory in their spunk and bravery, under difficulties, and 
 assert that we should not be surprised if from this small attic club 
 a rumbling eloquence shall be started rolling down the ages, that 
 will cause more than a glass-lamp, with a No. i burner, to flare 
 up and sputter. The principal difficulty they will have to over- 
 come, we imagine, will be to strike the table (or box, in this 
 case) hard enough with their fists, when they wish to clinch an 
 argument. This is where the male orator has the advantage ; a 
 really earnest man can split an inch board, and, the savageness 
 of his emphasis, can fairly raise the hair of his audience when he 
 makes his point ; this table-pounding is the very essence of grand 
 oratory, don't you know. The difficulty might be partially over- 
 come by the lady speakers, though, if they would carry a sand- 
 bag with them, and whenever they wished to get in a regular 
 argumentative clincher, they could just reach for the bag. A 
 properly loaded sand-bag would lend a fearful emphasis to the 
 argument, and command respect from the gallery. The Weekly 
 
236 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 Gun Wad extends good wishes to this club, and if there is any- 
 thing we can do to forward the interests of its members, all they 
 have to do is to command us. We might hold the lamp, and do 
 the sand-bag for them — or something of that sort. 
 
 OUR NEW MOUSE-TRAP. 
 
 We bought a new sort of mouse-trap up at neighbor N's big 
 hardware store recently, with which we desired to round up a few 
 mice that have lately come in from the fields, and are looking up 
 suitable sites in the buildings wherein to establish their winter 
 quarters. The trap is a complicated affair, and it took consider- 
 able elucidation on the part of friend N — to make its operation 
 clear to our mind — though he said the commonest kind of a mouse 
 would understand it on sight, and get caught in elegant style the 
 very first time it approached its vicinity. This being the precise 
 object we had in view — the catching of the mice — the transaction 
 was closed. We returned home with revenge radiating from our 
 eye as we explained the different parts of the beautiful trap to our 
 people. The trap has a little portico, painted blue, which is re- 
 ally very pretty and seductive like. The floor of this little potico 
 is hung on a little dingus underneath, and when the mouse runs 
 or walks along this very pretty blue tin floor, and into the vesti- 
 bule just beyond, his weight on the vestibule floor causes the por- 
 tico floor to fly up and shut the front door through which he has 
 just entered — and there he is, a prisoner, just about where the 
 butler's bench, the hat-rack and the umbrella vase is situated in 
 a vestibule or hallway. At the rear end of this hallway is a little 
 cheese-closet, with an open wire front, where the cheese does its 
 smelling out through the hall, portico, and out into the room, or 
 front yard, as the case may be, and it is this fragrance that the 
 mouse encounters in his peregrinations about the place, and fol- 
 lows up to its source in the little cheese-closet. Right here is the 
 place where he gets the first intimation that he has made a mess 
 of himself. He smells of the cheese — which he cannot get at to 
 eat through the wire-gauze — and then looks about him to see 
 what has pulled out or turned up. He isn't very long in making 
 up his mind that he has been badly "whitewashed," somewhere. 
 
ODD HOURS. 237 
 
 and tries to draw out of the game — but the "game" isn't built 
 that way. It is a sort of " progressive" affair, as lie soon learns 
 upon finding a little side-pull leading out of the vestibule into the 
 drawingroom to the left. He winks at himself and says, "Oh, 
 this is just too easy ! I will slide through this cozy little hole 
 here in the wall, and get around into that cheese business just too 
 sleek to be mentioned." He slides himself up into, and through 
 the little hole, and down the toboggan slide on the other side of 
 the wall, landing in a cozy parlor, big enough for a dozen mice 
 to have a real good time in. After going all around where the 
 piano, sofas and the rose-jars are supposed to be located, looks 
 at the two litte barred windows, and peeps up the walls and reads 
 the imaginary " Welcome Home," he finally concludes there is no 
 rear connection with the cheese-closet. He says to himself, " I'll 
 just go back up, through that little slide-' em -easy into the vesti- 
 bule, where I can, at least, 5 wW/ the cheese." But, horrors ! he 
 finds that when he came down through that little spout, a wire 
 contrivance fell down behind him, and has shut off all egress. 
 Meanwhile, as soon as he had left the vestibule, the tin floor of 
 the portico fell down into place, when lo, the whole establishment 
 became re-set once more for the next mouse — the cheese going 
 right on smelling clear out into the room again. In this manner, 
 our friend assured us, there had often been six to a dozen mice 
 found, of a morning, in the little parlor, all alive and sitting con- 
 tentedly on their tails, some looking out the windows, and others 
 touching noses and evidently asking what kind of a chump they 
 all were, anjrway. We haven't the least doubt of the correctness 
 of these statistics, because friend N — is not the man to talk that 
 way unless it was true, even to close out a twenty-cent mouse-trap 
 on us. But there's a great differenc as to who runs the trap, or 
 rather, what kind of cheese one runs it with, as was discovered 
 later. We've known trappers in our time, who could trap forty 
 or fifty muskrats in a single night, and trap 'em just as well 
 " where they was, as where they wasn't." As for ourself, we set 
 that mouse-trap six nights straight-runnin' and never caught a 
 hair. At last we became almost discouraged, and had about made 
 up our mind to take it back, and see if there wasn't some part of 
 the combination that we didn't understand; or, if we hadn't 
 " wound it up too tight," or hadn't " set the alarm " to the cheese 
 
238 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 wrong, or something of that sort. But, as luck would have it, we 
 at last got onto the whole trouble. It came to us like a small- 
 sized inspiration, and dawned upon our brain about dawn in the 
 morning. We heard him running about the room for a long time, 
 apparently trying to get out. Upon rising cautiously and peer- 
 ing about, we finally saw him sitting in the farthest corner from 
 the trap ; we tried to ' ' ease him around ' ' that way and run him 
 in ; but, try as we might, he would not approach even to that 
 side of the room. At last, in his extremity, he took refuge in one 
 of our boots, and then we had him. Fully determined to have 
 that trap do its duty, we cautiously poured him into it through 
 the little portico, and it worked beautifully. As soon as he struck 
 the vestibule-floor, the portico-floor flew up, and there he was. 
 In about two seconds he struggled through the little blind-pig at 
 the side, and slid headlong into the drawingroom. We again re- 
 tired, greatly satisfied that, by our assistance, the trap had caught 
 a mouse. Upon rising, we repaired to the trap, intending to dis- 
 pose of the mouse by pouring him into the slop-jar, and thus to 
 drown him in the most merciful fashion possible, but were aston- 
 ished to find him dead. He was lying in a corner, and his mouth 
 was set in a horrid grimace, as if he had smothered. Just then 
 it was, when the "dawning" took place — when we discovered 
 how it was. His singular death, when taken in connection with 
 his dread of going anywhere near the trap, made it plain where 
 we had committed the fatal mistake. Mice are passionately fond 
 of cheese, as all know ; but, not having on hand any of the regu- 
 lation cheese of our Puritan fathers, we had loaded the trap with 
 lyimburger. That did the business, and proves that even a mouse 
 cannot live with that sort of cheese. We at once cleaned out the 
 little cheesery, fumigated it, and filled it with the proper brand, 
 and now, nearly every morning, the cunning little parlor contains 
 about all the mice that can be "comfortably seated." 
 
 An &^^ is a very eccentric sort of thing. When it is good, 
 it is very good ; when bad, it is awful. An ^%% is never just mid- 
 dling good, nor just middling bad — it never occupies a middle- 
 ground. It will not do to put eggs into the bureau-drawer to get 
 mellow, or to give the drawer a nice scent — they aren't that kind 
 of an apple. When an ^%^ contains a chicken, both the ^'g% and 
 the chicken are worth less than the ^ZZy without the chicken. 
 
ODD HOURS. 239 
 
 SPECTACLES AND LUNCH-COUNTERS. 
 
 It isn't because we're so old that we wear spectacles — cer- 
 tainly not. Young dudes, and dudesses, and even children, wear 
 glasses now-a-days. There are, beside, many countenances which 
 are " helped out," mightily, by a pair of spec's, especially if they 
 have a gold-plated frame — it makes them look sort of rich and 
 dignified, entirely regardless of the facts in the case. We wear 
 spec's only on occasions when we want to get things down fine. 
 Of course, we can walk around, and converse without the aid of 
 glasses, and can also eat without them. In fact, we prefer to eat 
 without them, as a matter of business, when eating hash, mince- 
 pie, and the like, at a public feedery. We think it better, some- 
 how, as the hash, or pie isn't so apt to blush on account of their 
 contents — or on account of the joke they may be working in on 
 us at the time. We have often noticed fellows eating with their 
 glasses on, and " seeing things," at lunch-counters, or garlic- 
 joints, and it was more fun than a clock full of mice to see them 
 glaring maliciously at — wasting precious time — and dissecting, 
 through their spectacles, nearly everything set before them ; and 
 when the conductor would remark, " All aboard ! " these fellows 
 would have to grab for their hats right in the midst of their most 
 interesting researches, and before they had really eaten enough 
 " to keep a mouse alive." Some of them would grab sandwiches, 
 others a pie, whilst another would snatch the rubber duck from 
 the table — the duck that had served to "set off " the table ever 
 since Christmas-before-last, and had become very "leathery," — 
 jam it into his ulster-pocket, thinking to " piece out his dinner" 
 with it, on the train. Now, we always appear at meals without 
 our spec's; the result is, that in the "twenty minutes" allowed 
 (which shrinks up while you are eating to about nine-and-a-half 
 minutes), we simply eat, and always go aboard the train in a con- 
 dition of elegant rotundity ; and, no matter what it was that 
 was responsible for the rotundity of our form, we always feel 
 good (for a little while afterward, at least), and enjoy seeing the 
 spectacled chappie laboring with his duck, that he figured on fin- 
 ishing his dinner with. He spreads a paper down on the seat, 
 rams his hand down into his pocket to get out his pocket-cutlery ; 
 
240 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 and, while he is doing this — with his right leg stretched ont, to 
 make the excavation of his jack-knife more simple — he glares 
 good-humoredly about on his fellow-passengers, with a grin that 
 says : " I'm 'way up in this business, ladies and gentlemen ; if 
 I ever do get left on a deal of this sort, it's mostly because it hap- 
 pens to be a real cold day, don't cher know ; and beside, I know 
 what sort of stuff to grab for ; they can't adulterate a duck very 
 much, no how ; I now propose to eat toothsome wild duck, using 
 sympathy for you all, instead of cranberry sauce, with which to 
 wash it down — see?" We complacently fold our arms across our 
 dinner, and keep one eye on the duck man and his spectacles. It 
 is always our kind of a show — something of the sort. It is an 
 exhibition of the character of many people with whom one comes 
 in contact, especially in travel, and is a study we always greatly 
 enjoyed. We contend that, for example, a fellow with spec's on, 
 and a lunch-counter duck, on a railroad train, can show to the 
 close observer, as much of the funny side of life as almost any 
 combination that can be brought into juxtaposition. He turns 
 his back to most of the audience, gets his duck down on the car- 
 seat between himself and the wall, and proceeds to stab it with 
 his knife. After a little time he notices that it doesn't stab very 
 successfully, and then he peers down at it critically through his 
 glasses, and looks at his pocket-knife to see if the end of the blade 
 has been broken off. After peering about over his shoulder, to 
 see if he is being especially observed, he gazes down at his duck 
 again, and pushes up his sleeves. He then feels around with his 
 knife and finds a starting-place on the bird that seems a trifle less 
 petrified than where he must have begun in the previous on- 
 slought, and, humping himself up preparatory to a mighty effort, 
 he gets his knife down through it. He finds he cannot cut it in 
 either direction, however, and has a struggle of it in again recov- 
 ering his knife. He hasn't eaten any of the duck yet, and as he 
 contemplates the creature, he is evidently figuring on the proba- 
 ble time when that course will be ready to serve. He now turns 
 it over and is reaching for his knife on the window-sill when, as 
 soon as he takes his eye off it to reach for his weapon, the bird 
 slips off onto the floor. By this time he is sweating like a mossy 
 mill-wheel, and is beginning to look tired as well as hungry. Of 
 course he now peaks cautiously around to see if any one had no- 
 
ODD HOURS. 241 
 
 ticed the dull thud when the duck struck the floor, but no one 
 had noticed it ; he ascribed the smiling countenance of every one 
 in his vicinity to be the effect of the pleasing landscape presented 
 everywhere along all the railways of the charming Northwest. 
 He retrieves his lost bird, wipes off the peanut shells and things, 
 with his handkerchief, and then getting the fowl by the two 
 drumsticks he tries, by a mighty effort, to spring them apart and 
 dislocate them at the hip-joints. He now rests his elbows on his 
 knees and, with the duck placed in the strong light of the win- 
 dow, he begins a systematic, close and exhaustive examination 
 of the creature through his pebble-goat spectacles — or French peb- 
 ble-lenses, as the case may be. He makes several discoveries, by 
 means of the strong light and his strong glasses. He finds it to 
 have been a real duck at some epoch or another of the past, but 
 now, even the garlic and bread-crumbs inside have become ossi- 
 fied, and are just passing into the crystalized, or agate stage of 
 petrifaction. The duck itself has a sort of elastic-granite cast, 
 while the tiny "goose-pimples" (in this instance, duck-pimples) 
 all over its hide have partially entered the chemical (paste) dia- 
 mond process. This examination lasts until nearly time for ar- 
 riving at another lunch-station, when he slyly raises his window 
 and drops the duck down into the bosom of the passing land- 
 scape. He then takes out his handkerchief with a flourish, turns 
 to the front in his seat, wipes off his chin and looks about with an 
 assumed complacency at his fellow-travelers (who still seem in 
 excellent humor about something) , takes up a paper, and picks 
 his teeth loudly while he reads — nothing. He imagines he has 
 deceived somebody by wiping his mouth and picking his teeth 
 and shutting and putting away his knife in a very conspicuous 
 way. But he hasn't deceived nearly as many people as he thinks ; 
 nor did he ' ' piece out ' ' his dinner as much as he had ' ' mention- 
 ed." We advise our friends never to use spectacles when travel- 
 ing, or boarding at a public feedery. You'll always get enough 
 to eat then, and never know the difference — until the doctor gives 
 you a diagnosis, later. P. S. (also) — Never, when traveling, grab 
 for ducks or doughnuts, unless you happen to be more interested 
 in geological research, than in matters of vital interest to your 
 stomach. We are glad to note, however, that railroad lunch- 
 houses are improving. The ducks, etc., are of more recent date. 
 
242 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 PECULIARITIES OF THE CAT. 
 
 We know but little concerning the ancient history of the cat. 
 It is supposed, however, that the world has nearly always had its 
 full quota of assorted cats. We once saw a mummy that had been 
 taken from the universal tomb of the Egyptians — the catacombs. 
 It was the body of a full-grown man, and though it had not de- 
 composed like the dead bodies of to-day, it was terribly withered 
 up, and was about the color of a plug of navy-tobacco. His body 
 had, of course been embalmed after the fashion of the ancient 
 time in which this gentleman had been laid on the shelf. He had 
 been wound about in what at that time was called linen ; in these 
 days we call it " old gunny-sack." After being completely en- 
 cased in this two-cent fabric — much as we do up a sore thumb — 
 he had, apparently, been soaked in tar, or something, rendering 
 the parcel completely air-tight. This admixture, whatever it was, 
 not only excluded the air, but preserved the body from decompo- 
 sition, and allowed the old citizen to dry down, and sort of "set." 
 This ancient Egyptian had probably been dead two or three thou- 
 sand years, and was as fine a specimen of ' ' well-preserved ' ' hu- 
 manity as one could see in a day's walk. For the purpose of 
 permitting his posterity, of the present age, to gaze upon the fea- 
 tures of this specimen of their forefathers with due and fitting 
 affection, the coffee-sacking had been removed from about the 
 head and shoulders, and, aside from his dark complexion, and 
 eccentric cast of countenance, he had an appearance of considera- 
 ble dignity, and of having been a prominent man of his time — 
 possibly a government ganger, or the head of the postofiice de- 
 partment, including the rural free delivery branch, or some posi- 
 tion of a similar importance. But, you ask, " What has this old 
 citizen to do with the cat story?" 
 
 Well, the archaeologists who had desecrated the tomb of our 
 deceased friend, and brought him across the sea, had also brought 
 away all the tomb contained. Among the other items in the in- 
 voice was a cat, that had evidently been placed in the grave at 
 the same time as its master. The animal had been wrapped and 
 soaked in the same manner as he, and was preser\'ed in as perfect 
 a condition. Even the hair, and the color of the hair, was the 
 
ODD HOURS. 243 
 
 same as when it galloped around the back alleys of Thebes or Bab- 
 ylon, or purred about the feet of one of the Pharaohs or of Poti- 
 fer's wife. It was the remains of a yellow-and- white cat, with an 
 occasional gray and black spot — a sort of what we call in this age, 
 a " calico" cat. It was probably a favorite, and the master ord- 
 ered, just previous to his death, that the cat be killed and buried 
 with him ; or, possibly, the cat died first, and the master finding 
 nothing more worth living for, after the cat was gone, had finish- 
 ed his own life, that he and his beloved cat might be toted away 
 to the cat-acombs together. 
 
 At any rate, this two-thousand-year-old cat is a proof that 
 cats are no new thing ; but, on the contrary, that the ancients 
 knew, as well as we, the beauties of a duet or quartet on the gar- 
 den wall, at the low hour of midnight. Probably this same very 
 old cat had led a hundred concerts in that far-away past, and that 
 his sweet, vibrant songs are even yet trundling down the ages in 
 some part of the universe of space. If they embalmed all their 
 cats in those days, it would seem to indicate that we, of this age, 
 are not treating our cats as we should, in slaying them merci- 
 lessly and heaving them over the fence into the back alley. It 
 must be that we've lost something concerning the almost sacred 
 character of the cat, as appears to have been held in ye ancient 
 times. But if there was any good reason for paying such extra- 
 ordinary respect to the cat, the Egyptians neglected to " hand it 
 down " to us ; as a result, we now-a-days rather " have it in" for 
 the cat family, both singly and collectively. 
 
 A cat is supposed to have nine lives. Just how or when this 
 was discovered we are not aware — but it is not for us to doubt its 
 truth. We once undertook to dispose of a tough old Thomas-cat, 
 and since that time have had considerable respect for the ' ' nine- 
 lives" story. We drowned him once, but had not got half way 
 home, when that cat came purring against our leg, as if to dry his 
 glossy coat — he had evidently mistaken his death, for a simple 
 bath. Next day we mauled him for half an hour across a fence- 
 rail, supposing we had broken every bone in his body, and threw 
 him over the bank. That night a cat was heard at the door, and 
 upon opening it, in galloped Thomas, as lively as a cricket ; the 
 mauling had apparently only limbered up his joints, though he 
 seemed a trifle gaunt. We killed that cat every day for a week, 
 
244 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 in various horrid forms ; but, upon leaving home two years later, 
 there wasn't a livelier cat of his age in the neighborhood, and the 
 last we heard of him, he was still doing business at the old stand. 
 Cats are great thinkers. They will often sit, sleepily gazing 
 into the fire for an hour ; then they will suddenly start off into 
 another room, or out to the bam, and mayhap bring back a mouse 
 in each side of their mouth. They evidently figure out, in their 
 revery before the fire, which mouse-hole it is that ought to furn- 
 ish them with the next regular luncheon, and then govern their 
 movements accordingl)^ — and they seldom fail in their 'figgerin'.' 
 A dog would rather eat four papers of pins, than to take one bite 
 of cat, as a business proposition, though they often punish them- 
 selves by attempting to eat a whole cat. The cat is peculiar in 
 a great many ways that we cannot recall just at the present time. 
 
 THE "YAI^I^ER" HORSE. 
 
 We saw a team and a dog on the street the other day. This 
 of itself, however, is no very extraordinary spectacle — a similar 
 phenomenon frequently occurring. The team in this instance had 
 been unhitched and was feeding along side the wagon. They 
 were backwoods horses (this event was in the early days of Du- 
 luth), and were dressed in harness that seemed a compromise be- 
 tween a lot of old ropes, straps and tow-strings, and nothing at 
 all. The harnesses were about an average pair common to the 
 unkempt frontier of a new region, and so were the horses and the 
 wagon. The vehicle had evidently seen service, on mighty rough 
 roads, since about the time that Fulton's steamboat first wrestled 
 with the waters of the Hudson. Every wheel on it was bow-leg- 
 ged with the weight of years, while the tongue was worm-eaten 
 and "humped down" in the middle through a weakness of the 
 backbone — a sort of aged " spinal-maginnis." But, we are for- 
 getting the team proper, and also neglecting the dog. As we re- 
 marked, the two horses were discussing their noon -luncheon ; it 
 was a frugal repast, consisting of an armful of wild wire-grass, 
 sprinkled with a weak brine, so they could make out to worry it 
 down, and imagine it to be the timothy of their childhood. Their 
 general appearance proved that wire-grass had constituted their 
 
ODD HOURS. 245 
 
 chief diet for the last score of years. One had been a black horse 
 when he first began his career, but time and vicissitude had faded 
 him out until he was of that rare shade known as "no-color-in- 
 particular." Three of their ears had been frozen down to the 
 first limb, and the remaining one hung limp. The other horse 
 was a pale yellow in color, and had bright eyes that indicated 
 great force of character and energy — a horse that made the most 
 and best of every circumstance and condition, and was bound to 
 be cheerful at all hazzards. He was thin, almost to attenuation, 
 and resembled a pipe-stem on a couple of clothes-pins, with a big 
 stomach in suspension. The long hair looked as if it grew clear 
 through ; his lower lip hung down carelessly, while his tail looked 
 like a paint-brush after it had painted a cathedral. As he leis- 
 urely chewed away at his repast, a town dog happened along that 
 way, and observed the rather verdant-looking outfit. He evi- 
 dently was larking about in quest of sport and adventure, and he 
 rightly judged that he had struck a rich lead in the yellow horse, 
 and began to caper about him, and bark in the most gleeful man- 
 ner. The yellow horse didn't seem to scare to any noticable ex- 
 tent, and only seemed to enjoy the racket, as he kept on munch- 
 ing his wire-grass banquet. The sleek, fat town dog warmed up 
 in his enjoyment of the sport, and after a quarter of an hour's 
 rollicking about the front of the horse, he went to the rear and 
 began jumping up and toying with the remains of what had once 
 been a horse's tail, and barking for very joy. The old nag kept 
 one of his bright eyes on guard in that direction, as any close ob- 
 server might have noted, though showing no sign. At last, how- 
 ever, the scene suddenly changed, and a fat town dog might hav^e 
 been observed passing through the air, nor gaining his feet again 
 until about the middle of Lake Avenue bridge had been reached. 
 There wasn't anything more 5(?<?« of the dog, though he wasn't 
 out of hearing for several minutes. The ' ' yaller ' ' horse kept 
 right on with his dinner. 
 
 No business, profession, or enterprise — nor even a political 
 career — can permanently succeed unless based upon the granite 
 rock of ho?iesty, and honor in all things done or said. No boy's 
 life will be worth the living, if he starts out en any other plan. 
 
246 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 CHRISTMAS GIFTS. 
 
 As IT is often desirable to make Christmas gifts to our dear 
 friends and relatives, which are helpful, and at the same time are 
 comparatively inexpensive, we have bethought ourself to make a 
 few suggestions, anent this beautiful and time-honored custom, 
 which may be thankfully received by our numerous readers. It 
 is the useful little article (as well as ornamental) that can be made 
 at home in the long evenings preceding Christmas, that really 
 carries with it a permanent appreciation on the part of the friend 
 who is "remembered." And, being your own handiwork, it lends 
 additional satisfaction at " both ends of the line," — if the receiver 
 isn't a thankless, unappreciative chump, which seldom " occurs," 
 we believe. Here are a few of the articles that cross our mind : 
 
 Foot Rug — A very neat foot rug can be made by taking an 
 old gunny-sack, that isn' fit for anything else, cut it into squares 
 of equal size, in such a manner as not to waste any of the goods ; 
 quilt them together, and bind around the edge with a wide piece 
 of corn-colored calico or pink flannel — the latter will give it that 
 * ' soft ' ' appearance so desirable in a foot rug. Wash the old sack 
 before cutting it up, as they are most generally pretty dirty. 
 
 Match Safe — A rather sleek match safe may be made by 
 taking an old sardine can, cut a hole two inches square out of the 
 flat side ; tie a tow string into each corner — making the holes to 
 put the strings through with a nail and the hammer. To be sus- 
 pended from a tin-tack near the stove. Send one with the gift, 
 as the recipient might not have one handy — we mean the tack, 
 not the stove. 
 
 Pen Wiper — A pen-wiper is always fashionable as a Christ- 
 mas present, and is an appropriate gift to make to any of your 
 friends who can write ; if they cannot, it might encourage them 
 to learn. Take the top of an old stocking — one, the foot of which 
 is hopelessly gone — scollop the edge all around, back it with a 
 scrap of bright-colored calico, and put a handle on it made of a 
 bit of shoe-lace. This will be found very neat, without being un- 
 duly gaudy. 
 
 Pin Cushion — This indispensible article of the toilet can be 
 made by taking a red corncob and inserting it in a long, narrow 
 
ODD HOURS. 247 
 
 " poke" of sawdust ; or, if you wish to preserve its agricultural 
 character, use bran or meal instead of sawdust. The covering of 
 this should be made of speckled calico, as it will then always have 
 the appearance of being well supplied with pins, regardless of the 
 facts. The corncob is only for the purpose of making it firm and 
 substantial. This is one of the neatest things we know of. 
 
 Arabian Slipper — There is nothing nicer for a holiday 
 present to a gentleman friend than a pair of Arabian slippers. A 
 very tasty pair may be made by taking a pair of cast-off boots, 
 and cutting away all but the sole and the front part of the upper- 
 leather — leaving them in a sandal form. They are always easy 
 to put on or take off, and never chafe the heel. When walking 
 in the garden, the Arabian slipper has a great advantage over the 
 ordinary sort, as one can slip them off and pour the sand out of 
 them much more convenientl5^ This is why they are called sa^id- 
 als, and is why the Arabs prefer them when traveling across the 
 sandy deserts. A bow of red ribbon on the instep will prove a 
 very attractive feature, and be a nice thing for the cat to play 
 with of an evening. 
 
 Smoking Cap — A very pretty smoking cap can be made, at 
 a nominal cost, by cutting a chunk off the leg of an old pair of 
 soft pants — high down, or low up, according to size desired — 
 gather in one end of the section — which may be about sixteen and 
 one-half inches in length — and ornament it with a turkey-red tas- 
 sel, made of frayed flannel and fastened to the top of the cap in a 
 sort of bas-relief. A band of blue flannel around the lower edge 
 will hide the selvage, and give a picturesqe appearance, especially 
 when seen from a distance. 
 
 Foot Stool — Take an empty box of starch, or soap, and 
 cushion it with a piece of hit-and-miss rag carpet, on the top of 
 course — though in this instance the top is the bottom, the box 
 being turned the open-top below. Put a deep frill of yellow cal- 
 ico around the upper edge, and paper the sides and ends of the 
 box with oak-grain wall-paper. A green roseat tacked on each 
 corner will prove a tasty addition. This kind of a foot-slool will 
 be found very comfortable, and will add greatly to the appear- 
 ance of either the sitting-room, parlor, conservatory or rear lawn. 
 
 There are very many other beautiful little articles which can 
 
248 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 be made at home, suitable for holiday or birthday gifts, and that, 
 too, without cramping the pocketbook with much of a cramp. 
 The above are only given to suggest the long list of pretty things 
 that may be fashioned by deft fingers and a fertile brain. We 
 believe in the goodness of the custom of making Christmas pres- 
 ents, and would rather make a present to any one, than to do 
 anything else — except to receive one. Of the two, the latter is 
 our weakness. 
 
 A REAL QUIET LIFE. 
 
 "Yes," said Uncle Gates, "me an' Ma used to talk over 
 how, when we had our children all raised and settled in life, we'd 
 have a real peaceful time, an' enjoy everything in sight. We'd 
 jest be quiet, like, an' spend most of the time thinkin' about 
 iiothin' in particular, an' rent the farm to a good man, while we'd 
 keep a cow an' a few chickens an' gather the fruit, an' live easy, 
 after the big battle of raisin' seven daughters an' three sons — not 
 countin' the two layin' over in the church-yard. But, good gra- 
 cious, man, that figgerin' of me an' Ma wa'n't nowhere near cor- 
 rect. When we got the children all settled, the circus had only 
 just begun — the sideshows had just commenced hollerin', an' the 
 band-wagon had barely begun heavin' in sight. 
 
 " It is four years ago this May, when Mandy — our youngest 
 — got ' settled,' an' I'm blest if the 'quiet time,' me an' Ma had 
 been cipherin' on, hasn't broke out into a full-fledged sanitarium 
 an' layin' -in hospital combined. The three oldest is so far out in 
 the west that they can't report in person as often as the rest — 
 who are all located convenient, like. Between the summer outin's 
 they all enjoy at the ' dear old home,' an' the Christmas gather- 
 in' s — which make up a little party of thirty-two, an' increasin' ev- 
 ery year — an' the times when the children of all on 'em are bro't 
 to Gran'ma to have their measles, chicken-pox an' whoopin'- 
 cough, it keeps business real active, like, around under the ' fam- 
 ily tree,' to be sayin' the very least on't. 
 
 " Ma, she's patient all the time, an' gits off a lot of script- 
 ral sayin' s whenever I begin to froth ; so, when the shower gits 
 too heavy, I go around back of the bam an' maul the mulley bull, 
 an' say a few things that I think is sort of becomin' to the condi- 
 
ODD HOURS. 249 
 
 tions, in spite of Ma's script' ral quotations. I kind of figger that 
 we hadn't ought to expect too much of the Script'res; it isn't 
 reasonable to expect them to cover all the cases that happen in 
 these here modern days, an' I b'lieve in sort of helpin' 'em out a 
 little, on occasion. I don't care so much about their all comin' 
 home, in turns, or by famblies, in cases of real sickness, but when 
 three or four of 'em at a time bring their babies here to wean, then 
 I — well, I go around behind the barn and sort of stay with that 
 old mulley bull most of the time. I make him beller loud enough 
 to cover the squallin' at the house, near as may be; an' though 
 ordinarily I don't hanker after a bull when he's a bellerin', there 
 is cases when it is sweeter music th'n a jewsharp. Them three 
 babies squeal an' whoop in different keys, an' I'm blest if a railroad 
 collision, all mixed in with an earthquake, wouldn't sooth my 
 nerves, real soothy, compared with the cataclysmic overflow of 
 three healthy babies when they're bein' weaned. Why, sir, I had 
 five calves that was a bellerin' an' ^ blattin' most of the time, be- 
 fore them babies arrived at the ' dear old home ; ' but, I'm a sto- 
 ry-teller, if them calves didn't get so 'shamed of theirselves that 
 they went dumb the second day ; an' you couldn't get a blat out 
 of one of them if you was to drive a nail into 'em — fact, by gravy ! 
 I've done slept in the barn for the past week. 
 
 "So, you see, me an' Ma has had to repeal our former reso- 
 lutions, an' instid, we've past an act that when we've raised up 
 all our children's children, an' got them nicely settled, we'll be- 
 gin enjoyin' ourselves. We figger that I'll only be about a hun- 
 dred an' forty-seven, an' Ma a hundred an' forty-four, by that 
 time, an' if there isn't more'n about two hundred of 'em, we can 
 live it through, if I don't wear out the mulley bull, an' all the 
 law an' gospel in the mean time. But, that old bull is awful 
 tough — a good deal harder to wear out than the * commandments ' 
 is, I reckon." 
 
 At twenty, we imagine the active affairs of men are slowing 
 down, awaiting our arrival ; at thirty, we begin to suspect that we 
 were mistaken ; at forty, we know we were ; at fifty, we are glad 
 to hang onto the tail-end; at sixty, we've sat down in a quiet 
 nook, realizing at last that we are but a mote in the desert of life. 
 
250 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 TORN DIGNITY. 
 
 There is scarcely anything more harrowing to a sympa- 
 thetic nature than to see an elderly gentleman, who is chock-full 
 of cold dignity as an oyster is of sea-weed, "taken down — or, 
 sort of knocked out, as it were. We have.one "fault" that we 
 have noticed, even ourself ; and that is, we are almost foolishly 
 sympathetic. While riding in the cars not long ago, we noticed 
 a well-dressed old gentleman, with a very respectable-sized "rink" 
 on his head and a pair of gold bound spec's surmounting a most 
 exacting nose, who sat nearly opposite the seat we occupied. 
 His face alone would prove to the most ordinary judge of human 
 nature that he could prove an alibi^ if a smile ever occurred in 
 his vicinity. He would freeze Charles Francis Adams to death 
 in a harvest-field, and he probably never committed a charitable 
 act in his life. The dignity of his pose and motions could have 
 been cut up into chunks and sold for the purpose of doing the 
 frost work on cathedral windows. After awhile the train arrived 
 at the station where the elegant old gentleman desired to leave 
 the train. The brakeman opened the door and bawled out, in six 
 different keys, the name of the station, when our frigid old friend 
 grabbed his " grip" and stood up, adjusting his vest and collar, 
 and depositing his spec's in his watch-pocket, as he moved out 
 into the aisle, and waited for the train to stop. For some reason 
 the engineer seemed to yank the throttle of his air-brakes wide 
 open at the station, and the stopping of the train was almost a 
 shock to even those who were sitting. Our dignified friend found 
 himself cutting a score of vulgar monkey-shines, which were very 
 aggravating to a gentleman of his fabric, and we could not help, 
 (despite the fact that we love fun,) but feel deeply for him. He 
 lost his center entirely, and in trying to find it again he cut all 
 sorts of pigeon-wings, and came near standing on his head before 
 he got his senses again, or balance either. He first struck out 
 with his left foot, but instantly found that he ought to have first 
 shoved out his right leg. His grip-sack flew up and knocked the 
 side-lamp into fragments, when he sat down astride the arm of a 
 seat, with a "dull thud." He made a hmge for liberty and a 
 becoming posture, and went full length over to a seat occupied by 
 a fashionably dressed lady, and literally demolished a whole mil- 
 
ODD HOURS. 251 
 
 linery store, while his high hat went galloping down the aisle 
 toward the last station passed. He fairly groaned with mortifi- 
 cation, and we fairly moaned in sympathy for the old chap. As 
 soon as the old lady yelled ' ' git eout ! " he caromed over into our 
 scat, and we gobbled onto him until he could get his legs tinder 
 himself, instead of over, and by that time the shock had subsid- 
 ed ; we went and got his hat, gathered up his grip-sack for him, 
 and balanced him along to the door. The old gent, as he struck 
 the depot platform, tried to say "thank you," but it was a par- 
 tial failure, and he instantly struck his wonted gait, and marched 
 off as stiff and upright as though he had eaten a dinner of tele- 
 graph poles. Even under the most trying circumstances, this 
 fine old gentleman did not lose his dig. though we actually felt 
 sorry for him. 
 
 THE OLD SETTLER. 
 
 Every community is blessed with its ' ' old settler ' ' the old 
 chap who can tell you how many deer and bear he has killed 
 " not twenty rods from where your house now stands." He 
 delights to tell how many hard days' work he did with only three 
 small potatoes and a roasted chipmonk to eat ; and who was the 
 first baby born in the town, and how they sent for him to pre- 
 side, because he happened to be the only man in the region who 
 knew what was good for babies. He walks around among the 
 modern settlers with all the airs possible for an original ' ' devel- 
 oper" and carries the conviction to every heart that he, the old 
 settler is "extra dry" in the line of wisdom. He can kick a 
 neighbor's dog clear across the street, and it's all right ; because 
 he is the ' ' old settler, ' ' and a privileged character. When he 
 comes into a town meeting, everybody, for a moment, dries up, 
 and grabs onto a more respectful run of sentences, and when 
 they presume to advance an idea, they involuntarily turn and 
 address the old settler in the hope that he may nod an approving 
 smile, or smile an approving nod ; if they get it they are en- 
 couraged ; if his countenance clouds over, then the speaker very 
 quickly sits down, leaving an impression that he "didn't say 
 anything, nohow," and didn't try to. An "old settler" can 
 tell one story over more times, successfully, than anybody else. 
 
252 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 He has but a small stock, generally, because a story without 
 himself as the hero, isn't any story at all; and in order to be 
 plausible, he dare not hero himself too often for fear it might 
 get what this age terms "thin." Even the naked truth gets 
 thin enough, after you have listened to it four or five hundred 
 times. There will be a terrible vacancy in our western com- 
 munities when all the first settlers die ; there will be a happy 
 lonesomeness prevailing for a long time, but after awhile it would 
 seem sort of good to have them come back again — just to get 
 off that story once more ; it would seem so old-fashioned like. 
 The "old settler" is happy, because he knows if it hadn't been 
 for him the country would never have been, nor even been dis- 
 covered ; hence he can afford to be arrogant, uncivil, and imagine 
 himself a real actuality, and everybody else mere accidentals. 
 He nearly always says "no" to every progressive movement, 
 because it shows he has a mind of his own, that he is the only 
 man who '^kiimvs to the contrary," and besides he wants things 
 kept just as near the " good old way" as possible. All in all, 
 the "old settler" is an eccentric old gimlet, and aside from 
 keeping up a perfectly freezing dignity, and being perfectly 
 harmless, is of about as much p^iblic use, as the fellow who is 
 dead sure that every other place on the face of the earth is a 
 better place than the one he lives in. 
 
 BE HOPEFUL. 
 
 Each day is a chapter in Life's story, 
 Each chapter begins with a morning glory ; 
 Fill full thine heart with Morning's power, 
 And from, e'en a thorn -bush, pluck a flower. 
 
 — \Uncle Dudley. 
 
 A MAN do^vn in Indiana dropped dead at the polls, during 
 a recent election, while in the act of casting his ballot. Up to 
 the hour of going to press, we have not been able to leani what 
 ticket he voted, and shall say nothing about "a special visitation 
 of Divine wrath," until we leani the man's politics — and it is 
 just possible that we shall say nothing about it even then. 
 
ODD HOURS. 
 
 253 
 
 TOT'S VISIT TO FAIRYxLAND, 
 
 ITTLE "Tot" was a bright-eyed child, and happy the 
 live-long day, 
 And in a liundred ways, from morn' till night, she 
 passed the hours away. 
 
 She gave no pain to any one, by naughty act or word. 
 But chirrup' d, through the summer days, a happy lit- 
 tle bird. 
 
 She loved to hear her Mamma read about the fairy- 
 lands, 
 And all about the pranks and games of the little fairy 
 bands. 
 
 She asked her Mamma, one starry night — as she laid her toys 
 
 away — 
 If she might see these little folk, and with them spend a da^ . 
 
 Her Mamma told her, in the morning bright, that she could go 
 
 and see 
 The fairy lands, and fairy bands, in the boughs of a forest tree. 
 
 So, next morn' , when Tot arose, all dressed in gossamer-blue, 
 She sprang upon a spider's web, and through the air she flew. 
 
 The little fairies laughed and sang, and play'd on their tiny harps, 
 As on they rode, on the spider's web, escorted by meadow-larks. 
 
 They were wafted on, by zephyrs soft, until their home was seen. 
 Among the boughs of a forest-tree, and ruled by a fairy queen. 
 
 The royal guard of her majesty, when Tot's approach was known. 
 Brought honey-dew in a buttercup, and daisies freshly mown. 
 
 The silken web to a leaf was tied, and with music they entered in 
 To the palace of the fairy queen, whose favor Tot would win. 
 
 The queen sat on her crystal throne, with a tiny crown of gold, 
 And around her stood her courtiers, all fairies, young and old. 
 
 When Tot approached, the queen arose, and bade her welcome 
 
 there. 
 And told her she had heard her fame, and of her name so fair. 
 
 She said the fairies always loved good little boys and girls, 
 And always welcomed such as she, to their pretty home of pearls. 
 
 The pearls, she said, were of dewdrops made, and bound with 
 
 sunbeams bright, 
 That fairies had but a single law, and that was this — " Do right." 
 
 Then a feast was given to little Tot, and to the fairy band. 
 
254 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 And the fairies all invited there, throughout all fairy-land. 
 
 And so the hours rapid sped — such joy Tot never knew, 
 As, with the fairy queen she danced, all dress'd in her goss'mer 
 blue. 
 
 At sunset hour, by the queen's command, the fairies closed the 
 
 day. 
 And Tot, upon her spider's web, sailed for her home away. 
 
 She told her Mamma of all she'd seen, and how they'd called her 
 
 good. 
 And of how she loved the fairy queen, and her palace in the 
 
 wood. 
 
 WE ' RE NOT SO SMART, AFTER ALL. 
 
 We knew it would come out ! We were always told that the 
 ancients believed the world to be flat, like a pancake. That one 
 could walk to the edge and look down into nothing, and up into 
 the same article. That, if a fellow wanted to commit suicide, all 
 he had to do was to walk to the edge of the world, grapple him- 
 self by the slack of his ulster and pitch the contents over the cliff, 
 and simply keep on falling until he stan^ed to death. Also, that 
 this pancake of a world was toted around "from town to town," 
 on the back of a great big turtle. It was never stated in any 
 book we ever saw, what the ancients thought the turtle stood on. 
 but it is supposed they considered that to be the turtle's business 
 — and none of their lookout. It has recently been proven, how- 
 ever, that the most ancient race of which we have any authentic 
 account, knew the earth to be a sphere, and not a pancake. It 
 was in later ages that this knowledge was lost. When our more 
 recent philosophers found out the fact, they plumed themselves 
 upon having made an original discovery. But, it turns out now, 
 that we have l>een working an old "claim," that was abandoned, 
 so to speak, by a generation of old rabbi, so many thousands of 
 3'ears ago that it makes one dizzy to think of it. We are mights- 
 smart in this age, by comparison with the Digger Indians ; but 
 there is a great big lx)ok full of things now-a-days that we think 
 are new, that aren't new, at all. So, we should not grow puffed 
 up, too puffy, until we are certain we know what we are "puff- 
 ing" about. 
 
ODD I/OURS. 
 
 255 
 
 EVENING THOUGHTS. 
 
 " At summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow 
 Spans with bright arch the gHttering hills below." 
 
 ' ' And earnest thoughts within me rise, 
 
 When I behold afar, 
 Suspended in the evening skies 
 
 The glorious Evening Star." 
 
 HEN the duties of the day are finished, and we sit up- 
 \j^ on the rustic bench, in the gathering twilight ; when 
 the hill-tops are blending their lofty crowns with the 
 azure of the sky, and laving their heated brows in the 
 dews of the darkening day ; when the Evening Star 
 comes modestly forth, to accompany the crescent moon 
 in her journey around the world, with her train of 
 lesser lights shedding a softened glory along her path ; 
 when the clash of a busy world has subsided into the 
 drone of suspended activity, and the sighs of the evening zephyr 
 are attuned to the impulses of the soul ; when the babbling of the 
 brook meets the ear with soothing sound, and the robin from the 
 topmost limb pipes his " good-night" adieu to the god of day, and 
 the flocks lie peacefully on the meadow slope ; when the cricket's 
 measured creak adds solemnity to the hour, when our sunset is a 
 a new-born day in another land ; when the grass-blades are don- 
 ning their pearls of dew, and the flowers are slaking their thirst 
 with the nectar of the night. Then is the hour of peace, of love, 
 of the soul's profoundest adoration. This is the heart's hour — 
 the hour of its thanksgiving, and the mind's feast-time. It is the 
 hour when the soul reaches from earth to heaven, and when man's 
 manliness comes forth from its gross environment. It is the hour 
 wherein we feel sure that there is, for the asking, a balm for ev- 
 ery wound, a solace for every burden ; a time when we may draw 
 very, very near to Heaven, and almost commune, face to face, 
 with the dear ones, who seem to beckon us onward and upward 
 to their exalted plane of happiness and love. The "sweet hour 
 of prayer," wherein the sore heart and bruised spirit may find 
 refuge, and a consolation sweet and lasting. Good-night, and — 
 
 GOOD - BYE ! 
 
256 
 
 UNCLE DUDLEY'S 
 
 A WORD. 
 
 This edition of Odd Hours has been produced under ex- 
 tremely adverse conditions — which I will not wearj- my readers 
 by recounting here. As a result, in a few parts of the book, 
 some aggravating errors have occurred. I feel sure, however, 
 that my kind friends will overlook them — I knmv they would, if 
 they only hiew. I believe, all the same, that both old and young 
 will find much to interest and entertain them in the leisure hours 
 of life. As the edition is very limited, in the number issued, all 
 those desiring a copy, or copies, should apply for them as soon as 
 possible. Single copies, free by mail, $1.50. Five copies, $6.00, 
 or ten copies, $10.00, the receiver paying express charges on the 
 two latter "batches" when they receive them. Send P. O. or 
 Express order to M. C. Russell, Lake City, Minn. 
 
 WHATEVER IS TRUE, IT ALWAYS GIVES 
 PLEASURE TO REPEAT. 
 
 I HAVE ever been a lover of all kinds of trees and shrubbery 
 — more especially of the fruit-bearing kinds. In this connec- 
 tion, I wish to add my testimony to that of thousands of 
 others in favor of The Jewell Nursery, Lake City, Minn., 
 as being the most reliable institution from which to order all 
 classes of Nursery Stock, for our rigorous Northwestern cli- 
 mate. Aside from the exceptionally high character of those 
 composing this Nursery Company, the stock, throughout, is 
 chosen and propagated wholly with a view to its being hard}' 
 and in every way reliable. This, and honest - dealing, has 
 been the governing principle and aim of every man connected 
 with the great looo-acre institution — from President Under- 
 wood down to the most humble of the 1 50 employes. That 
 tree-planters will lose a smaller per cent of stock procured 
 from this Nursery must be obvious to any intelligent person. 
 It is a great and growing institution, and has already proven 
 itself one of the chief blessings to our wonderful Northwest- 
 ern empire. It has done more than all other similar institu- 
 tions, combined, to make fruitgrowing successful in our 
 high latitudes. — [Uicle Dudley. 
 
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