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A MECHANIC'S DIARY 
 
 EX-GOV. HENRY C. BROKMEYER. 
 II 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "The Errand Boy," "A Foggy Night at Newport," "Letters on Goethe's Faust," Translations 
 
 of Hegel's "Logic," "Phenomenology" and "Psychology" and 
 
 Various Political Works. 
 
 COPYRIGHT. 1910, BY E. C. BROKMEYtn. 
 WASHINOTON, D. C. 
 

 E. C. BROKMEYER, Editor and Publishefi 
 
 WASHINGTON. D. C. 
 
 ■^CI.A27S7iy 
 
 •/ 
 
 f 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 DON'T LOSE THE LOSS 7 
 
 LABOR A BADGE OF IGNOMINY? 9 
 
 THE RESOURCES OF THE HUMAN RACE 10 
 
 MAN'S CONDUCT UNDER DIFFERENT CONDI- 
 TIONS 10 
 
 - THE CAUSE OF IMMIGRATION 11 
 
 ^' MOLDERS OF KETTLES, PUBLIC OPINION 
 
 AND SOULS 12 
 
 :^ THOSE WHO HAVE MADE MAN'S LIFE HUMAN..14 
 
 A VIEW OF THE MIGHTY MISSISSIPPI 14 
 
 CHEMISTRY IN THE FOUNDRY 16 
 
 WHY HOMER ABIDES 17 
 
 A MAN WITHOUT HOUSE, HOME OR FAMILY 17 
 
 THE UTILITY OF DEBT 18 
 
 CULTURE ABOVE MONEY MAKING 19 
 
 CORPORATIONS AND WEALTH ESSENTIAL 20 
 
 INVENTIVE GENIUS IN THE SHOP 21 
 
 ARISTOTLE'S "ORGANIC NATURE" 22 
 
 THE "ILLIAD" 23 
 
 PLATO'S "REPUBLIC" 24 
 
 MEETS AN OLD FRIEND UNEXPECTEDLY 25 
 
 NOT A PROHIBITIONIST 26 
 
 "INDIAN MOUNDS" 27-41 
 
 THE FERTILE MISSISSIPPI VALLEY 28 
 
 THE MARVELOUS MIND OF MAN 29 
 
 VULCAN 30 
 
 LABOR UNIONS AND REPRESENTATIVE GOV- 
 ERNMENT 30 
 
 SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY 32 
 
 THE NEED OF LEGISLATIVE LOBBYISTS 33 
 
 DISTRIBUTION OF PRODUCTIVE ENERGY 34 
 
 THE MECHANIC'S ROMANCE 35 
 
 APPLICATION OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES 36 
 
 HOW TO MAKE FISHING GOOD 39 
 
 A PECULIAR MARRIAGE SERVICE 41 
 
 HAPPIEST EVENT IN THE LIFE OF MAN 43 
 
 IMMIGRANTS AND THEIR LANGUAGE 44 
 
 THE "STINGIEST MAN" 45 
 
 STRIKING AND LANDING BASS 47 
 
 "FIRST A CAGE AND THEN A BIRD" 48 
 
 REPUBLICS AND MONARCHIES 49 
 
 JUSTICE DEFINED 50 
 
 HOW TO STRING A FISH 51 
 
 THE MEANING OF WORDS 52 
 
 LOVE AND JUSTICE CO-EQUAL 53 
 
 DOMESTIC LIGHT AND SHADOWS 54 
 
 THE CONTEMPLATION OF ETERNAL TRUTH 55 
 
 WHY HEGEL SHOULD BE POPULAR 55 
 
 "MAN KNOW THYSELF" 56 
 
 LOGIC AND KNOWING 57 
 
 SELF-CONSCIOUS INTELLIGENCE 58 
 
 THE PHILOSOPHERS OF THE WORLD 59 
 
 THE LAW GOVERNING GAME 61 
 
 THE CAUSE OF ABORIGINAL WARFARE 62 
 
 HUMBOLDT ON VEGETABLE AND ANIMAL 
 
 LIFE 63 
 
 DARWIN'S THEORY AS TO WELLS 64 
 
 SPINOZA 65 
 
 APPEARANCE OF FRIEND H., A JOURNALIST....66 
 
 Page 
 HIS OWN PREACHER, LAWYER, DOCTOR AND 
 
 COOK 67 
 
 WHAT DETERMINES A CITY'S FUTURE 68 
 
 ALL NEGATION NOT NEGATIVE 71 
 
 COST OF TRANSPORTATION 72 
 
 WHY STREAMS CUT PECULIAR CHANNELS 72 
 
 REVOLUTIONS WROUGHT BY IMPLEMENTS 73 
 
 PROTECTION OF YOUNG WILD TURKEYS 74 
 
 MAN'S ELEVATION THROUGH THE PRINTED 
 
 PAGE _ 75 
 
 THE ECONOMY OF NATURE 76 
 
 THE SIMPLE FRONTIER LIFE 77 
 
 CARVING CIVILIZATION OUT OF THE WIL- 
 DERNESS 80 
 
 BREAKING THE PRAIRIE 81 
 
 WHAT PIONEERS PAID FOR GOOD LAND 83 
 
 AMERICAN AND FOREIGN WAGES 84 
 
 POLICY OF THE STOICS RECALLED 86 
 
 KILLING GAME JUSTIFIED 87 
 
 PRIMITIVE BUILDING OPERATONS 89 
 
 INDUSTRY VERSUS IDLENESS 90 
 
 CULTIVATING WHEAT AND GRAIN 92 
 
 BREAKING THE SABBATH 94 
 
 "WIND LAND" EXPLAINED 95 
 
 "THE GOLDEN RULE" 96 
 
 LAND TOO RICH TO GROW TREES 98 
 
 THE BUCK WHEN SUPREME 100 
 
 CHRISTIAN CHARITY IN PRACTICAL LIFE 101 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE WORKING CLASSES 103 
 
 BUILDING ROADS, SCHOOLS AND CHURCHES..105 
 WHAT DETERMINES WILD ANIMALS' COLOR..106 
 
 PRODUCING SELF-GOVERNING CITIZENS 107 
 
 AN AMERICAN POLITICIAN 108 
 
 THE REAL HERO Ill 
 
 GOD HAS NO FAVORITE RACE 111-112 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF AMERICAN INSTITUTIONS 113 
 
 A TRUE WOMAN 114 
 
 AN EMPLOYER OF THE OLD SCHOOL 114-115 
 
 A REMARKABLE DREAM 117 
 
 THE HABITS OF STREAMS 118 
 
 CARRYING ELECTIONS WITH MONEY 119 
 
 "ALL MEN BORN FREE AND EQUAL?" 121 
 
 "AN EYE FOR AN EYE AND A TOOTH FOR A 
 
 TOOTH" 123 
 
 WATERWAYS 124 
 
 COMMERCIAL LITERATURE 126 
 
 THE BIBLE NOT THE ONLY SACRED BOOK 126 
 
 THE TRUTH REPLACES MIRACLES 127 
 
 RELAXATION FOR A BUSINESS MAN 128 
 
 MOSQUITOES NOT THE CAUSE OF MALARIA....129 
 
 SHOOTING DUCKS 131 
 
 CANADA GEESE AND SWAN 132 
 
 MAKING RAILS AND FENCES 134 
 
 INDIRECT TAXATION 136 
 
 PREPARING FOR GAME 137 
 
 LOVE LETTERS 138 
 
 THINKERS AND SEERS OF OUR RACE 139 
 
 PITCHING TENTS 140 
 
 CITY MEN IN THE WOODS _ 141 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 HOW ANGLERS SHOULD TREAT FISH 142 
 
 HUNTING GAME BY ITS MAST 143 
 
 FOREGONE CONCLUSIONS UNRELIABLE 145 
 
 SPI ES A DEER 146 
 
 TRAILING A WOUNDED ANIMAL 147 
 
 WHO FIRED THE SHOT? 149 
 
 LOCATING A TURKEY ROOST 150 
 
 KILLING A LARGE FISH OTTER 151 
 
 MANY BUSINESS MEN MONOMANIACS 152 
 
 A RAKING FIRE 153 
 
 MAKING A LIVING IN THE FOREST 154 
 
 A COZY CAMP 155 
 
 A MOTHER'S PRESENCE ESSENTIAL 156 
 
 LOST IN THE WILDERNESS 156 
 
 FOLLOWING A DOG'S TRACKS 157 
 
 MEANING OF A DOG'S BARK 158-186-187 
 
 THE LOST HUNTER FOUND NEARLY DBAD....159 
 
 MANEUVERING FOR AN EAGLE 160 
 
 WOODS DANGEROUS TO THOUGHTLESS PER- 
 SONS 161 
 
 "OH, FOR ONE MAN OF GENIUS!" 162 
 
 HOW TO TREAT A CHILD 163 
 
 PREPARING VENISON 164 
 
 THE HUNTER'S PULPIT 165-170-171 
 
 TRACING A DEER BY AUGURY 167 
 
 BIRDS' SENSE OF SIGHT 168 
 
 "SIP" TREES A WILD CAT 169 
 
 HOW GAME PROTECTS ITSELF 170 
 
 GATHERING NUTS 170 
 
 THE LAWS OF THE WILDERNESS 172 
 
 GRATITUDE 173 
 
 HOW TO LOAD A GUN 174 
 
 PECULIAR PRANKS OF "PAT'S" POSSUMS 175 
 
 THE GREAT HORNED OWL'S SCREECH 177 
 
 DEER AND WOLF COME TO GRIEF 177 
 
 GOOD POTATOES 179 
 
 A MAN AT HOME AND IN BUSINESS 180 
 
 NEVER KILL A DOB 181 
 
 THE BEAUTIES OF LITERARY STYLE 182 
 
 INDEPENDENCE IN THOUGHT AND ACTION....183 
 VARIOUS ANIMALS "PLAY POSSUM" 184 
 
 Page 
 NATURE'S DAINTIES IN DIFFERENT WRAP- 
 PERS iss 
 
 HOW TO DESTROY RIVER BANKS 191 
 
 FIRST HOUSES OP A PIONEER SETTLEMENT..193 
 
 WHAT MAKES A MAN AND CITIZEN 195 
 
 ORDER CREATES A GOOD IMPRESSION 197 
 
 PLAN FOR DEVELOPING TOWNS ; 198 
 
 BOUNTIFUL GARDENS 199 
 
 "THE NEWS OP THE DAY" 201 
 
 EASTERNERS IN THE WEST 202 
 
 OPPOSITES AT COLLEGE AND LATER 203 
 
 THE THREADS OF CIVIL SOCIETY 204 
 
 READING THAT IS VALUABLE 205 
 
 MR. LOCKE DISAPPOINTING 205-206 
 
 HEGEL'S PECULIARITIES 206 
 
 BEAUTIFUL EYES AND MISDIRECTED AT- 
 TENTION 207 
 
 WINNING A CHILD'S HEART 203 
 
 THE EAST INVESTS IN THE WEST 209 
 
 DEPENDENCE OP HUJIAN, ANIMAL AND VEG- 
 ETABLE LIFE 210 
 
 MISUSE OP GOVERNMENT IN BUSINESS 211 
 
 ORIGINAL ORNAMENTATION OP STOVES 213 
 
 HOW SHE WAS CLEVERLY SURPRISED 216 
 
 CAPACITY OP DIFFERENT LANGUAGE3....217-218 
 
 GOETHE'S "FAUST" ; 219 
 
 MAN'S ABILITY TO KNOW TRUTH 220 
 
 A WOODPECKER'S REMARKABLE FEAT 220-221 
 
 MAN-MADE STATES AND CHURCHES 222 
 
 A SCIENTIFIC ANALYSIS 223 
 
 TRANSMISSION OP A GREAT TRUTH 227 
 
 HUMAN THOUGHT 229 
 
 AMMONIUS SACCAS AND SOCRATES 230 
 
 THE EMANATIONISTS 230 
 
 EVOLUTION 231 
 
 THE ONE LIFE OF GALILEE 232 
 
 THE FUNCTION OP GOVERNMENT 233 
 
 CIVILIZATION BASED ON PHILOSOPHY 233 
 
 DESCARTES' DEMANDS 234 
 
 THE FRENCH REVOLUTION 236 
 
 DIOGENES AND ALEXANDER 237 
 
Preface 
 
 The author of the Mechanic's Diary was averse to the publication of his works until 
 after his death, which occurred July 26, 1906. His reason was that he did not write for 
 popular approval, but to present the truth, as he was able to discover it. He believed 
 that the publication of the truth would hurt no man, but not courting public controversy, 
 he concluded to pass his days in peace and let the future take issue with his deductions, 
 if it would. 
 
 The Mechanic's Diary is one of the first of Gov. Brokmeyer's works to be published. 
 "Notes of Thoughts and Happenings of the Day as They Occurred in the Life of a 
 Molder in the Mississippi Valley Fifty Years Ago" was the author's description of the 
 Mechanic's Diary. Although metaphysical in part, the Diary is interspersed with enter- 
 taining and valuable observations on forest and stream and nature in general, a world 
 of which the author made a careful study all his life. The comments on political, social, 
 religious, scientific, economic and educational questions, although made in the middle of 
 the nineteenth century, under the existing conditions, are peculiarly timely and interest- 
 ing at the beginning of the twentieth century. 
 
 The form of expression is at times unusual. The author was a unique character, 
 however. Besides, this is a mechanic's diary. Moreover, the author presents faithful 
 pictures and expressions of some of the early settlers of the Mississippi valley, chiefly 
 German. The views of "Mr. B ," the principal character, on literary style ex- 
 plain the form of expression of the Diary : 
 
 "They (the "Notes" of the Diary) show sincerity and self-reliant insight that are 
 always attractive. Then, the crudity of style, and want of method, are themselves feat- 
 ures that will make them acceptable reading to many persons who do not appreciate the 
 beauties of form," remarked Mr. H . 
 
 "That is the very thing I wanted to ask you about," said Mr. B . " I have 
 
 been trying for some time to find out in what those beauties consist ; but the fellows who 
 seem to know ke&p the secret mighty close. They point to this author, and to that, and 
 when I look at the works, they're as different as a buck in the blue is from the same in 
 the red or gray. All that I have been able to formulate for myself is that as the buck 
 changes his coat with the season — or rather has it changed for him in order to remain 
 in harmony with the prevailing tint of his surroundings, so the different authors, and the 
 same authors treating dififerent themes, seem to change the forms which they employ to 
 harmonize with the subject which they treat, or with the mental atmosphere into which 
 they introduce the reader. I have thought, sometimes, that I noticed that when they 
 succeeded in permeating the form completely, so that it is all of a piece — thought and 
 expression, form and content, as we find it frequently in Homer, Sophocles, Calderon, 
 Dante, Goethe and Shakespeare — they were happiest. But these men are poets ; they 
 create. They see the divine in human life, and body it forth in forms which themselves 
 must necessarily be divine, if true. But if the texture of a sack ought to be fine in pro- 
 portion to the grain you want to store in it, it seems to me, anything might do to hold 
 the happenings and thoughts as they occur in the life of a molder of pots and kettles." 
 
 "Especially if that molder claims to be related, through his craft, with the dwellers of 
 Olympus ! When his eyes gleam from his grimy face and blanch at nothing, from the 
 poets and philosophers of world history to the doctors of divinity and managing edi- 
 tors of the day, it seems to me, Henry, that such matter should be expressed in lang- 
 uage born of leisure and reflection, and not in the crude phrases inspired by fatigue and 
 physical exhaustion. There are sentences that are as tired as the hand that wrote 
 them, and nodding expressions, with the eyes half closed in sleep. Still, it will be a valuable 
 source of entertainment to you when you want to look back at the struggles, the feats 
 and trials of a life that will be symptomatic of the mass of human exertions in the val- 
 ley," replied Mr. H . 
 
 To those interested in Gov. Brokmeyer's translation of Hegel's "Logic," "Psychol- 
 ogy," "Phenomenology" and his "Letters on Goethe's 'Faiist,' " the Mechanic's Diary 
 may furnish some light, although the metaphysical obseivations are but incidental in 
 
 the Diary. 
 
 THE EDITOR. 
 
i 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY 
 
 St. Louis, May i, 1856. 
 
 To-day I bought this book, in which I intend to 
 note down, from time to time, such happenings as 
 may seem to have some meaning for the future. I 
 do this because I find myself tempted to discredit 
 my own memory now and then, when I recall the 
 last twelve years of my life, with the ups and downs, 
 the successes and failures, as they occurred. 
 
 The first thing that I will put down is the fact 
 that I have to-day selected this city for my future 
 home. I have traveled over the country from the 
 state of Maine to the state of Louisiana, and from 
 the Atlantic Ocean to the buflfalo pastures upon the 
 Eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains, and if there 
 is a center of population that has as fine a country 
 tributary to it as the city of St. Louis — East, West, 
 North and South — it has escaped my observation. 
 Here if anywhere industry, economy and honest 
 conduct must mean success — unless we have to be- 
 lieve that the world is but an annex of hell, as some 
 people seem to think. I heard this expression for 
 the first time to-day, in a crowd that had gathered 
 in front of the banking house of P. B. & Co.: "The 
 world is an annex of hell and St. Louis is located 
 upon a choice quarter section!" 
 
 Well, the banking house has failed, and as I 
 bought exchange on it in the East, in order not to 
 carry any considerable amount of money about me 
 on my trip out here, and failed to exercise due dili- 
 gence in presenting my paper for payment — I can 
 sympathize with the poor fellow. When, twelve 
 years ago, I landed upon the wharf of the city of 
 New York, after a seven weeks' voyage across the 
 Atlantic, I was seventeen years old; had twenty-five 
 cents cash in my pocket, and a knowledge of three 
 words of the English language in my head. I had 
 not relative, friend or acquaintance upon the 
 continent. To-day I landed upon the wharf of the 
 city of St. Louis. I have a full dollar left for every 
 cent I had then. I know the language of the coun- 
 try, and a considerable portion of the country itself. 
 I am master of three trades, with splendid health! 
 
 "Quarter section of hell!" Nonsense! The devil 
 doesn't build cities, and this city is being built. The 
 devil doesn't transform the wilderness into a home 
 for civilized man. This is done by industry, economy 
 and honesty. What the devil has the devil to do 
 with that? I am fixed. Here I stay. This is my 
 home. I have lost what I had. Well, I will try and 
 not lose the loss — the lesson it has taught me. 
 
 May 2, 1856. 
 To-day I made a discovery! I went out this morn- 
 ing to look over the Northern part of the city, but 
 somehow I could not see well. My mind kept 
 gyrating — always turning back to the loss which I 
 had sustained. All at once some one asked me the 
 
 question, or it seemed as if someone asked: "What 
 do you think those fire-proof walls and steel safes 
 are for in our banks? Why are their walls so thick 
 and their doors so heavy?" To prevent the public 
 from seeing how empty they are, of course, said I 
 to myself. For I was really alone — and this was the 
 discovery I made. 
 
 After dinner I went down to French Town, the 
 Southern part of the city, where I found a large 
 tannery and currier shop. Here I met my old 
 friend and shop-mate, James Robertson. It is re- 
 markable how very little it takes to make a man a 
 hero to his fellows! No sooner had we shaken 
 hands, with the most exuberant feelings of happy 
 recognition, than Mr. Robertson called his shop- 
 mates together, and gave me a formal introduction. 
 This done, he went on: 
 
 "Now, gentlemen, I must tell you how my friend, 
 here, finished his apprenticeship at the end of his 
 first year of service, some ten years ago, in the 
 swamp of the city of New York. We were skiving 
 calf-skins one morning, side by side, when the boss, 
 Mr. F. C. K , came down to the shop, and nos- 
 ing around, examined Henry's work. When he had 
 gone through the pile he remarked to me: 'I think, 
 Jim, your Dutch cub is doing remarkably well. He 
 is going to make a workman of himself some day, 
 if he keeps on doing the way he is now.' 
 
 "'Make a workman — make a workman!' said 1, 
 'he is no slouch of a hand now.' 
 
 " 'That makes you feel pretty big, Harry, doesn't 
 it?' said he to Harry. 
 
 " 'No,' replied Harry, 'I know when I am doing a 
 man's work. But I do not know why I have to do a 
 man's work for a boy's pay.' 
 
 " 'You don't,' said he. 'You have forgotten then the 
 articles of indenture which you signed, have you?' 
 
 " 'No, I have not. But I signed that paper under 
 the belief that it would take me three years to learn 
 the trade, as you told me.' 
 
 "'Well, it is too late to craw-fish now; a bargain 
 is a bargain, Harry.' 
 
 "'With a boy? And that boy deceived in regard 
 to the facts of the bargain?' 
 
 " 'Be careful there, Harry. I charge you twenty- 
 five cents for every hole you cut in that skin!' 
 
 "'Is that all?' said Harry. 
 
 "And whack, went another hole. 
 
 " 'That is fifty cents,' said the boss. 
 
 "By this time I saw the boy's eyes afire— his 
 dander was up. 
 
 '■ 'Now it is seventy-five' — 
 
 "Whack, another hole. 'And now it is a dollar;' 
 and so he went on, counting and cutting a hole, 
 almost with every stroke of the knife! 
 
 " 'That will do, Harry,' said the boss. 'That is 
 ten holes — two dollars and a half for the skin.' 
 
8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "'Is it?' inquired Harry, as he leaned tlie knife 
 against the buck, reached down for his trimming 
 knife, and deliberately cut the ten holes into one. 
 
 "'There!' said he, 'and now it is twenty-five cents 
 — which you are welcome to deduct from my wages 1' 
 
 "Gentlemen, you ought to have seen Mr. F. C. 
 
 K . His face was as white as a fresh-haired, 
 
 black goat-skin. Harry, as he straightened up, put 
 the trimming knife between his teeth and untied 
 his apron. After looking at Harry the old man 
 rushed for the door, but before he closed it behind 
 him, he turned around and said: 
 
 " 'Young man, keep your apron on. Do the work 
 of Mr. Robertson and you shall have the pay of Mr. 
 Robertson.' 
 
 "This, gentlemen, was the end of Harry's appren- 
 ticeship." 
 
 With this stor}', which as to facts is literally true, 
 we adjourned to a neighboring beer house, and there 
 I learned that with five dollars to spend for liquor, 
 any man can be a hero, for at least some hours. Nor 
 is the feeling unpleasant while it lasts — the only 
 trouble is it doesn't last. 
 
 May 3, 1856. 
 
 To-day was Sunday. I took dinner with Mr. Rob- 
 ertson, as I had promised him yesterday. It was a 
 happy meeting. The eldest children remembered me, 
 although they had grown out of my recollection. 
 From childhood to youth, from girlhood to woman- 
 hood — what a change! Elizabeth, the oldest daugh- 
 ter, was particularly happy. She related, details of 
 our former acquaintance, when she, then nine years 
 old, was my chief reliance for assistance in what- 
 ever trouble I encountered in acquiring the English 
 language. She remembered some of the puzzles which 
 I had presented for solution, but treated everything 
 with such an air of modest grace, such tact, that the 
 most sensitive could not have been ofifended, however 
 ludicrous the circumstance related. The cares of the 
 household seem to devolve upon her. 
 
 "Mother is not strong, and there are a good many 
 of us," she remarkjed casually. 
 
 I noticed that everybody, the members of the 
 family and neighbors, that happened in, called her 
 Elizabeth, her full name, not "Betty" or "Lizzy," as 
 is customary. I thought this quite characteristic of 
 the respect which her appearance and demeanor 
 silently exact. 
 
 After dinner, Mr. Robertson and I had a great time 
 exchanging our experiences since we parted in New 
 York. I related how I went to Newark. New Jer- 
 sey; learned tanning and shoemaking; how with 
 these acquirements I sought a favorable market for 
 my skill, first in the West and then in the South; how 
 I prospered and how I was finally compelled to sell 
 out my business, on account of the climate; how I 
 spent the last three years at school in New England, 
 for the benefit of my mental, no less than my physi- 
 cal health, and I told of the little financial mishap, 
 on my return to the West, that rendered it neces- 
 sary for me to look for a job, in order to get a new 
 start. 
 
 In return he related his wanderings from New 
 York to Indiana, from Indiana to Ohio, and thence 
 to St. Louis, where he found wages better and liv- 
 ing cheaper than anywhere he had been. In the 
 meantime his family had grown up. His eldest son, 
 John, a twin brother of Elizabeth, had learned his 
 father's trade, and was of material assistance in 
 maintaining the family. His home was humble, but 
 everything in it was neat and clean. The children 
 were well dressed, and better behaved. I spent a 
 very happy day. 
 
 May 4, 1856. 
 
 Met Mr. Hall, whose acquaintance I made the 
 other day, aboard the steamboat, in coming from 
 Cincinnati. He had just graduated from the medi- 
 cal college at that place and was returning home to 
 practice his profession. He felt very happy on our 
 trip, but to-day he was inclined to be blue. He 
 told me that he had exhausted his means, and that 
 upon looking around he found that it would take a 
 great deal of money to start an office and establish 
 a practice. He then related to me that he was a 
 molder by trade; that he had earned the money to 
 educate himself for a doctor, in the foundry, and 
 that he saw no other way to get a start in his pro- 
 fession than to return to the shop and dig it out of 
 the sand heap. 
 
 I laughed at the air of disappointment with which 
 he spoke, and after he told me that he could earn 
 from five to si.x dollars a day at his trade, I told 
 him that I would go with him and we would work 
 together. 
 
 "But you are not a molder." 
 
 "No. but I can learn." 
 
 "Well," said he, "I don't know but what it would 
 be easier on me to have you with me, if I have to 
 return to the shop. You could help me on my floor, 
 until you can run a job on your own account." 
 
 This thing, spoken rather lightly, deserves con- 
 sideration. At the trades of which I am master, I 
 can earn from ten to twelve dollars a week. The 
 difference between ten and twenty-five, or twelve 
 and thirty is too great, especially when the expenses 
 involved are the same, to be passed by without in- 
 vestigation. 
 
 May 5, 1856. 
 
 Went down to the foundry, stove works, to look 
 around. Learned from the foreman that Hall stands 
 high as a mechanic, and is respected as a man. 
 
 "Has had an open job with us for ten years, and 
 can go to work to-morrow if he wants to," said he. 
 
 I also saw that several of the molders had as- 
 sistants, such as the doctor had mentioned, so that 
 his plan is nothing new or strange. 
 
 May 6, 1856. 
 
 To-day has been a busy one. Have decided to 
 become a molder. Have been over town with Doc, 
 buying tools, trowels and such things as we need. 
 Then went to see Mr. Robertson to decline a job, 
 tendered me through him, in his shop, which I had 
 partly agreed to accept. The old friend gave me a 
 long lecture about becoming an apprentice again, at 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 my time of life, and the like. The truth is, he con- 
 
 Isiders a currier of skill, such as he undoubtedly is, 
 very close to the head of the class, and would resent 
 it if any one were to insinuate that there might be 
 possible some other position in society more de- 
 sirable, not to say more honorable, than that of a 
 first-class mechanic. Friend Hall, on the other hand, 
 seems to think that labor is not merely inconvenient, 
 but even degrading — a badge of ignominy, of punish- 
 ment, placed upon man by an offended deity. 
 
 What a strange misconception of man's existence 
 there is involved in that picture of idleness called 
 Paradise — a loafer's retreat! Labor a curse! Labor, 
 physical exertion, guided by intelligence, the incar- 
 nation of thought into matter, that imbues the world 
 of physical necessity with rational purposes of free- 
 dom; that distinguishes man from the brute, by ren- 
 dering himself independent, instead of a slave to 
 obdurate, dumb necessity! 
 
 Give me an occupation for which I am adequate in 
 strength and skill, or rather in strength — for skill it 
 is mine to acquire — and let who will live on alms, on 
 the bounty of another! Nor do I ask this occupa- 
 I tion as a gift. It is mine, because I am a man. It 
 was created by the labor of my race — the race of 
 man, of whom I inherit "by all bonds of law." 
 Strength and skill, simple adequacy, are the evidence 
 under which I claim. 
 
 Another hallucination, traceable to quite a differ- 
 ent source, is somewhat prevalent among persons 
 of the disposition of friend Hall, and that is, that 
 everybody's task In life is easy but his own. The 
 reason for this, I am inclined to think, is that other 
 people's burdens do not pinch our shoulders. 
 
 The other day I observed a pair of puppies at 
 play upon a large pile of chips. Every now and then 
 one would pick up a chip and run, or pretend to run 
 ofif with it, when instantly the other would give 
 chase and do his utmost to snatch the chip from 
 him. There were wagon-loads of chips, chips by the 
 thousand, chips on every side of them, and under 
 their feet, any one of which was as good a chip, or 
 better, than the one in dispute, and all to be had 
 for the mere picking up, without fuss or quarrel. 
 But no, it was that particular chip that had the value 
 for both, and it alone. How much of this puppy- 
 hood disposition attaches to our nature, I am not 
 prepared to say. But that it is an element of a 
 cheerful manhood, and to be cherished as such, is a 
 proposition that I do not believe. Well, to-morrow 
 will teach me something new. 
 
 May 7, 1856. 
 
 My hands are very sore to-night. I cannot hold 
 the pen to write. 
 
 May 15, 1856. 
 
 Have not been able to note down anything the 
 last eight days; my hands were so sore at night. 
 Doctor molds pots and the flasks are heavy. The 
 strain upon the fingers became very painful, so that 
 I could scarcely unbutton my clothes at night, or 
 button them in the morning. But use and warm 
 gloves at night have relieved me. I begin to see 
 
 daylight. My muscles are adjusting themselves to 
 the strain, and in a few days more I will be relieved 
 of pain. 
 
 May 16, 1856. 
 
 We put up a six-dollar job to-day and Doc. tliinks 
 that in the course of a week we will be able to push 
 it up to eight or nine. I use the riddle and shovel 
 and to-day commenced with the rammer. Doc. does 
 the dressing of the molds, draws the patterns, closes 
 the flasks and pours off the job. When this is done 
 I shake it out, temper the sand and cut it for next 
 day's use. 
 
 May 17, 1856 
 
 Have rested nearly all day; supple as a cat; not 
 a sore spot about me; every muscle alive and content 
 in its place. Went out in the afternoon to look for a 
 room. Found what I want. It fronts South and 
 East, is on the fourth floor and costs me six dollars 
 a month, unfurnished. This is expensive, almost ex- 
 travagant; but unavoidable for the time being. I 
 must have pure air; I must have privacy; air to 
 breathe while I am asleep and privacy during hours 
 of rest or leisure, when I belong to myself and not 
 to my physical necessities. The Southern and East- 
 ern exposure is the only desirable one in this climate, 
 where the oppressive temperature during the sum- 
 mer months is invariably accompanied, if not caused 
 by a South or Southeast wind; and is much amelio- 
 rated thereby, if a person can take advantage of it. 
 I have bought a table, a chair and a cot from the 
 landlord and move into my new quarters to-morrow 
 evening. My supply of furniture is not exactly cal- 
 culated for extensive entertainment, but ample for 
 the accommodation of the company that is welcome. 
 
 May 18, 1856. 
 
 Seven dollars to-day, and I rammed my first flask. 
 Doc. dressed it for me and it ran well! No scrap 
 upon the floor, 
 
 "Rather a clean job. Doctor," said the foreman in 
 passing. 
 
 "Yes, considering." 
 
 "Considering what?" 
 
 "Well, my Berkshire rammed some of the flasks 
 and I felt a little doubtful about them." 
 
 "He! Oh, well, I reckon it is not the first work 
 he has done on the floor. He has too much sense 
 in his fingers to be an entire green-hand." 
 
 I looked at Hall, as much as to say, "Don't betray 
 me," and he said: "Yes, he does very well." 
 
 Sense in the fingers, sure enough, and will in the 
 muscles sums up the entire secret of all practical 
 skill. 
 
 "Berkshire," a new title, a slang nick-name for a 
 man who attempts to learn a trade by working as 
 help with a journeyman molder. A mechanic's way 
 of saying that such a one is trying to hog into the 
 craft, or rooting into it, so to speak, instead of 
 entering through a regular apprenticeship! 
 
 May 19, 1856. 
 Shook out an eight-dollar job to-night. Poured off 
 my first flask; hit it. The worst is over. Doc. says 
 I earned three dollars to-day; not so bad. Drew the 
 
10 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 pattern and put it back to smooth the facing and 
 drew it again without injuring the mold. 
 
 May 20, 1856. 
 
 To-day was a great improvement upon last Wed- 
 nesday. The work is no longer painful and opens 
 up its logical rhythm. I see the successive steps, 
 their relation to the end to be accomplished, and 
 their sequent interdependence one upon the other. 
 Here, as in every other mechanical operation, I find 
 success depends upon a strict obedience to the sim- 
 ple law — "Never crook your finger in vain;" "Never 
 make two motions to do what can be done with 
 one." 
 
 Obedience to this law distinguishes the workman 
 from the bungler and the factory from the shop. 
 Such an arrangement of the different processes and 
 the raw materials that enter into the production 
 of the finished article as will render obedience to 
 this law possible to every employe engaged is the 
 achievement of the organizing genius of the estab- 
 lishment, who in our day is paid in ready cash a 
 paltry fortune, instead of the admiration and even 
 devotion of his fellow man, which he received in 
 former ages. He surely deserves this, no less than 
 the inventor of new tools, or the discoverer of new 
 processes, whose achievements are guaranteed to 
 them by letters patent. How general is the capacity 
 to appreciate, and even to appropriate, and how 
 seldom the capacity to originate! I wonder whether 
 this is not the reason that in ancient times the 
 creative, the originating capacity, was regarded as 
 superhuman, as divine — so conspicuously illustrated 
 in the works of Homer. Of course^ we must not 
 understand this capacity to appreciate the results 
 of originating genius as the ability, or even as a 
 general willingness to recognize them as legitimate 
 proprietary interests. On the contrary, there seems 
 to be a tendency in our nature to regard the crea- 
 tions of genius as common property. And such 
 no doubt they are, in a certain sense. They are of 
 general and even of universal interest to mankind, 
 but this does not make them common property. 
 They are the results of individual exertion and as 
 such, primarily individual property. If we deny this, 
 then we deny to the highest manifestation of human 
 activity the motive for exertion, accorded to every 
 other, even to the humblest. Primarily private prop- 
 erty, they are nevertheless of universal interest, and 
 of more importance than any ordinary products. 
 From this side they go beyond private property, and 
 constitute a common good, transmitted from genera- 
 tion to generation as an inheritance of much prize, 
 free and without price for all who will possess them- 
 selves of them. They constitute in their aggregate 
 the resources of the human race. 
 
 It is the general opinion of the shop that in our 
 establishment everything is "handy;" the organizp- 
 tion is perfect; everything is admirable except tht, 
 proprietor, the organizer. 
 
 May 21, 1856. 
 
 We struck for nine dollars to-day and made it. 
 At noon, while Doc. rested, I molded up a flask by 
 
 myself, and when the iron came I poured it oflf, too. 
 It turned out all right, but I had forgotten the ears — 
 an earless pot. Endless banter from the boys — of 
 course. I wanted to break the thing and throw it 
 into the scrap pile, but the foreman happened to 
 come along and prevented me. 
 
 "You take the pot home. I make you a present 
 of it." 
 
 I thanked him, took my pot to the mounting de- 
 partment, drilled a hole on each side, where the ears 
 ought to have been, put in a handle, and returned 
 with the pot swung on my arm. This caused more 
 banter. 
 
 "Earless pot; deaf pot; can't hear itself sing; sure 
 to boil over on that account; when will you apply for 
 a patent; invention by accident" — and the like. 
 
 But I am proud of my pot all the same; as ser- 
 viceable to me as any pot of its size. 
 
 May 22, 1856. 
 There is something strange in the behavior of a 
 body of men, confined more or less to the same 
 space. Some twenty odd of us are at work in sight 
 and hearing of each other, and whole days pass, 
 sometimes, without a word being heard beyond the 
 ordinary civilities. Then again there are regular 
 field days of banter, more or less good humored, 
 with a lively sprinkle of blackguarding thrown in 
 gratis. How these days come, what causes them, 
 no one can tell. All we know is, some one makes a 
 remark, apparently without occasion. It is in a 
 tone of voice a little above the ordinary — courting, 
 as it were, publicity, or challenging reply. An an- 
 swer follows from this or that side, and the thing 
 is a-field. Soon you hear peals of laughter, and 
 everyone seems in duty bound to add something to 
 the entertainment. The day closes with the liveliest 
 feelings of good fellowship pervading the shop. 
 Thus we separate in the evening. Next morning 
 we meet; everything is dull, sullen, ill-humored, with 
 a don't-come-near-me air on every face. Of course, 
 we have heard of a rainy day affecting the humor of 
 a lonely sojourner in a village; but is it a fact that 
 bodies of men are affected in their conduct towards 
 each other by the meteorological conditions that 
 surround them? Does a cloudy, murky sky without 
 predispose to moroseness, a murky mental condi- 
 tion within, or a bright sunny atmosphere to good 
 humored, cheerful hilarity? If we compare the 
 typical characters, developed under a Southern sky, 
 with the same class produced in the fogs of the 
 North, we are compelled to attribute considerable 
 value to this extra-human element in man's con- 
 duct; nor is it quite certain but what the divination 
 of the ancient generals before going to battle, which 
 we regard as unadulterated mummery, may have 
 had some justification in facts the observation of 
 which has escaped us. One thing is certain; there 
 J^re days when personal collisions, hand-to-hand 
 fights — and such was ancient warfare — will result 
 from the same causes which some other day will be 
 treated by the same parties with indifference, or 
 turned into an idle jest. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 II 
 
 "My heart, sir, burned with the love of liberty, and 
 that was the reason I sought this land of the free 
 and the home of the brave!" exclaimed Mike upon 
 the floor to the left of us, while discussing the cause 
 of immigration of this country with Jake, who work- 
 ed upon the floor to our right. Mike had straight- 
 ened up; as he made the remark, he executed the 
 appropriate gesture, or intended to do so, by bring- 
 ing his right hand with a graceful movement in 
 contact with the left side of his breast. Unfortunate- 
 ly for him, his hand touched his body a little too 
 low down, and instantly Jake improved the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "Nonsense, Mike! Nonsense! That is not your 
 heart. That is your stomach! No doubt, some- 
 thing hurt you. But it was the craving of your 
 stomach for grub, instead of your heart burning for 
 liberty that brought you to this country. I leave 
 it to the Doctor, here," pointing to Doc. Hall, 
 "whether that is not your stomach which you point- 
 ed out as the thing that hurt you." 
 
 A general peal of laughter, which fairly set the 
 waves of dust floating upon the beams of yellow 
 light that streamed through the grimy windows a 
 dancing with mirth, was the answer of the shop. I 
 enjoyed the hit. But the most amusing part was 
 to watch the quirks and turns, the dodges resorted 
 to by Mike, to obtain credence for his feigned 
 motive. Honest hunger, the universal birthday 
 present of nature to every son of man, was a motive 
 too low in his estimation, a motive that has made 
 him a good molder, and as such, a substantial ac- 
 quisition to any community of sane beings, must 
 be disowned, and in lieu of it, a motive is avowed 
 which if true could only make him an acquisition 
 to some community of Bedlamites. "No, sir; I will 
 never consent that you shall think so low of me! 
 I never did and never will entertain the true. What! 
 Accuse me of being a true man!" 
 
 I need not to add that this was one of the bright 
 days of the shop. 
 
 May 23, 1856. 
 
 The humor continues. 
 
 "I say. Earless!" 
 
 "What! Is it Fritz?" 
 
 "How do you like him? Your name? How do 
 you like to be Earless?" 
 
 "Well, to tell you the truth, Fritz, there are few 
 happenings in life but what I manage to squeeze 
 some comfort out of them, and so it is with my new 
 name. I would rather be called an earless Dutchman 
 for a blunder I made myself than a lop-eared Dutch- 
 man, by the grace of an ignorant populace." 
 
 "And it is proud you are of your new name, is 
 it?" said Mike. 
 
 "I really don't see why not, Mike. The fact is, 
 I do not recall any occasion when the actual loss of 
 ears would have been a great inconvenience since 
 I have been in the shop, except on one occasion, and 
 that was yesterday, when you told us, with that 
 burning eloquence, what brought you to this coun- 
 try." 
 
 "Hurrah for our Earless Berkshire!" hallooed Jake 
 
 "Well, Jake, I will tell you in confidence; of course, 
 I don't care of its going any farther, that your 
 Berkshire did not lose his ears by the teeth of a 
 yellow cur." (Jake being a light sorrel.) 
 
 "Next," cried the Doctor. 
 
 "I move you, sirs, that the Berkshire have the priv- 
 ilege of treating the shop, and hereafter the rights 
 of a regular apprentice," cried Mike. 
 
 "Second the motion," cried Fritz. 
 
 "So do I," echoed Jake. 
 
 The motion carried unanimously, and I stood bilk- 
 ed out of a keg of beer, which was drunk to-night, 
 it is not necessary to add, with the best of humor. 
 When they got through, I said: "Gentlemen, as 
 this was a treat of the shop, intending to intimate 
 that it was a forced contribution, I claim the privil- 
 ege of inviting you to another keg, to be drunk 
 Monday night, on my account. 
 
 "That was a poser, Henry," said the Doctor, on 
 our way home. "That keg of beer for Monday 
 night knocks the wind out of the last grumbler in 
 the shop." 
 
 "Well, I propose to earn some money in that 
 shop, and one way or another they could make it dis- 
 agreeable for me. The good will of the humblest is 
 not to be despised. And then, I was betrayed, on 
 the spur of the moment, to say a thing wholly un- 
 becoming for me, and it is but right that I should 
 pay some smart money for the smart-aleckism 
 which I was weak enough to display. There is an 
 unconscious appreciation of propriety of conduct 
 in an assembly of men, which will influence them 
 in their action in a manner they themselves do not 
 know, and the fact should not be lost sight of by 
 him who has to deal with them." 
 
 May 24, 1856. 
 
 Another Sunday. The discovery of Jake that 
 hunger is the cause of European emigration to this 
 country will not let go of me — sticks to me. Hunger, 
 physical want, want of nurture, a mere privative, a 
 negative to produce an affirmative result. "There is 
 nothing in the effect that is not in the cause," they 
 say in metaphysics. But here there is a cause with 
 an effect precisely the opposite of the cause. Hung- 
 er seeks, produces food, and is thus cause. But 
 food, the effect, gratifies, annuls hunger, its own 
 cause. The annulling of its own cause, however, can 
 only result in an annulling of itself, and the process 
 of nurture starts anew — or rather continues its self- 
 perpetuating round. Want spurs exertion to create 
 means. The means supply want, annul it, but in so 
 doing they exhaust themselves, and want reappears. 
 This is the economic process — not a mere restate- 
 ment, in more general terms, of the process of 
 nurture, as it may appear to be at first glance, but 
 an elevation of that process into the domain of in- 
 telligence. For it is intelligence that generalizes 
 hunger into want; recognizes it as a negative, a 
 need; converts exertion into labor, by directing it 
 to produce the greatest amount of means with the 
 least outlay of exertion. In this the law of economy, 
 
12 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 intelligence minimizes the negative, the need, the 
 power of necessity, to its lowest terms. It claims 
 the world for its home, and directs that there, where 
 the natural conditons are the most favorable, that 
 there, and there alone, does it recognize exertion as 
 labor rationally applied. From this it is plain that 
 emigration is an economic necessity, a part of the 
 process by which rational intelligence elevates it- 
 self above the necessity of physical nature. 
 
 Well, hunger brought me here, whatever agency 
 it may have had in bringing other people. Nay, for 
 that matter, to what else but hunger have I to ac- 
 count for my presence, not merely here, but in the 
 world itself? I came into it hungry. The only 
 reality about me, when born, was hunger; all else 
 was mere possibility, that might and might not be- 
 come real. But hunger was a bawling reality. 
 Whence then did this reality come, if nature had 
 no need of swallowing itself, no need to digest itself 
 into intelligence? Nature furnished eyes that saw 
 not; ears that heard not; a palate that tasted not; 
 a nose that smelled not— the whole a living unit of 
 sensitivity, that was nothing and wanted every- 
 thing. To see I had to learn and thus earn it; to 
 use my ears, nose, palate I had to do the same. I 
 had to do this and without me it could not be done. 
 Hunger alone was without me, without my causa- 
 tion; came of itself, naturally, that is— by nature. 
 
 But upon what does this hunger, thus caused by 
 nature, feed if not upon nature? Nature then is 
 both in one the appetite and the bread the appetite 
 feeds upon; and the result of this self-digestion of 
 nature, of this process, is the ideality. It is the 
 hunger of nature for ideality, the want, the need 
 thereof, that brought me here. 
 
 But that which constitutes the want, the need of 
 another is that upon which the other depends. It 
 can not do or be without it. This is the very mean- 
 — 'ing of need. It follows then that nature, the real, 
 depends upon the ideal, its own product; and while 
 I am here, the product of the processes of nature, 
 these processes are not without me. 
 
 But I, as a product of nature am not ideality. I 
 was born an individual, a bawling want, and ideality 
 does not bawl! I was born an individual, the mere 
 possibility of ideality, and it is real, absolute ideality 
 that nature wants, that nature depends upon. To 
 realize this possibility, to elaborate my individuality 
 into true ideality, into universality, into harmony 
 with that which constitutes the want, the need of 
 nature, that upon which nature depends, this is the 
 problem of life before me. 
 
 I had almost forgotten to note down that I took 
 dinner to-day with Mr. Robertson and promised Miss 
 Elizabeth that I would do so frequently in the 
 
 future. ^ 
 
 "O, not frequently, but every Sunday, she in- 
 sisted. She is certainly a very attractive person. 
 Her face is of the best Scotch type, intellectual, with- 
 out any hint of boldness. Her eyes, a dark hazel, 
 rather large and prominent, but not e.xecessively so, 
 light up her clear complexion with a gleam of bright- 
 
 ness. The lines from her head to her shoulders are 
 of exquisite grace, and those from the chin to the 
 bust are beautiful. Her movements are smooth, un- 
 dulating, and her voice is sympathetic, without lack- 
 ing the full clear notes of frankness. When I leave 
 her it is with the impression that I have known her 
 always. She is perfectly transparent to me, and I 
 could confide to her the innermost thoughts of my 
 soul with real, with genuine pleasure. I have never 
 met a human being before that impressed me as 
 she does. 
 
 May 25, 1856. 
 
 An eight-dollar job, and two flasks to spare. 
 These I molded, one during dinner hour, and one 
 after the Doctor quit. Both turned out good— nor 
 do the pots lack ears. This thing then is done. I 
 can mold pots, and can do it without pain. Of course 
 I cannot, as yet, put up as many in a given time as 
 Hall can. But speed will come of its own accord, 
 and sooner too than some people may expect; for I 
 watch for weak points, points where the highest 
 skill is required, and these I practice with every op- 
 portunity. My main endeavor is to realize the exact 
 thing to be done, and this once in possession of my 
 mind, it soon reaches the hand, the fingers. 
 
 Another thing quite as important to my purpose 
 became apparent to-day— the effect of the treat 
 which I promised, and gave to my shopmates this 
 evening. It has made me one of them. 
 
 When they had drunk out half the keg, nothing 
 would do but I must make them a speech. Nagged 
 ' on, no doubt, by the Doctor, they kept calling and 
 yelling until I kicked over a box that was standing 
 against the wall, in the corner, stepped on it, and 
 as near as I remember said: 
 
 "Gentlemen, molders: I thank you most heartily 
 for the welcome extended to me upon this, the oc- 
 casion of my initiation into your craft as an ap- 
 prentice. I am a mechanic; master already of more 
 than one trade; but such is my appreciation of the 
 excellence of your calling, the honorable, that all 
 important function which it performs in the afifairs 
 of man, that I regard as naught my trade of a cur- 
 rier, a tanner, a shoemaker— so long as I have not 
 acquired and am master of the skill of a molder. 
 
 "For what is the statesman of immortal fame, but 
 molder of a nation's character? What is the prophet 
 priest, the man holy among man, but a molder of 
 human souls? What is the editor of the daily news- 
 paper, the so-called mighty engine of modern civ4li- 
 zation, but a molder of public opinion? What is 
 the teacher, the pedagogue, but a molder of youths; 
 and what are all of these different branches of our 
 craft, when compared as to the skill involved, the 
 cleanliness of the raw material employed, and the 
 satisfactoriness of the results achieved— what are 
 all of these, I say, when compared in these respects 
 with the molder of pots and kettles,— not to mention 
 our worthy brother the machine molder, who fur- 
 nishes sinews of iron and joints of steel to the pro- 
 ductive industry of the age? 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 13 
 
 "Be pleased to look but for one moment at the 
 raw material of the statesman. A mass of human 
 beings, not a people, destitute of a government, wel- 
 tering, an inextricable, confused heap! Lust bestial, 
 unrestrained, greed bottomless, shoreless! Anarchic 
 filth, weltering down the declivity of time! A lurid 
 stream of lava, devastation in its aspect, and in its 
 path sterility and utter desolation! Anarchic filth, the 
 tmspeakable of man! Then look at the scintillating 
 stream of pure well-tempered metal descending, 
 obedient to your call, from the cupola! You receive 
 it in your ladles. Under the guidance of your skill, it 
 glides into the molds prepared, fills every crevice and 
 cranny, assumes the form born in your mind, solidi- 
 fies and is a thing of worth and use to man. 
 
 "Again, behold him called the Holy among his 
 fellows, his raw material the innermost center of 
 man's being! Be pleased to look at his pattern — 
 warped, blistered, scratched, cracked! Nay, look 
 close, or you will take it for some indifferent piece 
 from the scrap pile of humanity. He extols the 
 blisters, the scratches, the cracks. Don't heed him! 
 They are not of the original, but of his handling. 
 The original pattern was and is divine. He calls 
 himself its doctor — doctor of divinity, and never 
 blushes at the arrogant presumption. Away with it 
 to the scrap pile, to the cupola, to the smelting 
 furnace of thought! Let it be recast into its native 
 symmetry of divine perfection! Say you so, my 
 friend? 
 
 "Alas, he is no longer a member of our craft, he 
 is no longer a molder of men's hearts. He has 
 turned cobbler — doctor of divinity. His divinity is in 
 bad health, subject to spells of colic, threatened even 
 with lockjaw, now and then — needs doctoring! A 
 thousand different doctors busy, each claiming that 
 he has the veritable pattern, the veritable infant God 
 in his lap — busy pouring paragoric, soothing syrup, 
 and such like nostrums, down its throat, by the 
 spoonful! What a sight for mortal man! 
 
 "But where, I ask you, is the workman molder 
 who would consent to use a pattern like that? 
 Where the strait can no longer be distinguished 
 from the cheekpot, the skillet from the griddle, the 
 griddle from the stove-cover; the beautiful side doors 
 of a number eight Charter Oak from the front, or 
 the top-plate of that stove from the bottom? 
 
 "And now look at him there, the molder of public 
 opinion! His original, the village gossip! See, from 
 what obscure beginnings comes human greatness! 
 I can not say 'Behold his raw material.' It is an 
 invisible, intangible existence. A confused hum of 
 rumors, made up of dubious guesses, well-defined 
 hallucinations, with now and then the notes of some 
 hysterical shriek distinctly audible. Science reports 
 that it feeds upon its own exuvia, and that it fur- 
 nishes the only well authenticated instance in nature 
 where the excrementitous matter expelled exceeds in 
 quantity the food consumed. But popular belief 
 has it that its chief nourishment is derived from in- 
 sects, or worms, or some hybrid organization be- 
 tween the two, bred in its own dung-heap. This 
 
 latter it is observed to work over and over again, 
 with great assiduity and persistence, in search of its 
 favorite food. It may be surmised that this con- 
 tinual occupation with its own filth has misled the 
 scientific observer in his conclusions. But whoever 
 may be right, in this contention, the popular be- 
 liever, or the scientific observer, the fact of its 
 peculiar occupation is not called in question by 
 either, and it is because this occupation is under his 
 guidance, and conduct in chief, that he calls himself 
 a molder — a molder of public opinion. 
 
 "But, gentlemen, is it not obvious from this hasty 
 glance at the more remote branches of our craft, 
 that the first lacks a respectable raw material; the 
 second, a well kept, well preserved pattern; and that 
 the third has neither the one nor the other, but a 
 mere pretense in their stead? The truth is, they are 
 not molders in good standing. They are mere rhe- 
 torical, metaphorical interlopers, seeking to robe 
 themselves with the respectability of our craft, by 
 glibness of tongue, instead of skill of hand, purity 
 of heart and sturdiness of will. They enslave their 
 minds to pamper their bodies. With them the high- 
 est serves the lowest, the noble the ignoble. Like 
 the ox grazing on the meadow, their brains are car- 
 ried on a level below their stomachs; while the true 
 molder causes the body to feed the body, to square 
 its own accounts, and reserves his mind untrammeled 
 for tHe sunny heights of contemplation, far above the 
 mists and fogs of grabgame alley." 
 
 May 26, 1856. 
 
 Last night I moved into my room. What quiet, 
 what rest, what privacy! Six hours sleep, a perfect 
 blank — and this rest after the day with its labor, 
 this privacy after the chatter and clatter of hours — 
 it is a perfect heaven on earth. In the shop an ut- 
 terance is seldom heard that is more than empty 
 noise. How strange it is that the more strictly we 
 are compelled by our vocation to conform our action 
 to a given norm, the more eagerly we seek com- 
 pensation, as it were, in capricious mental vagaries. 
 But here no voice intrudes save the voice of those 
 who speak for and to our race; and their lips, grown 
 noiseless with time, speak with the solemnity of 
 silence, through the printed word, to the spirit with- 
 in, that hears without ears; the voice, most evanes- 
 cent of perishable things, transformed by the spirit 
 of man into imperishability, because it is freighted 
 with the ever abiding. 
 
 In moving up I was amused at the disappointment 
 shown by the landlord, who assisted me when I 
 opened my trunk. From its weight he had reasons 
 to -believe that it contained valuables, but when he 
 saw me take out a lot of books, rather the worse for 
 wear, he did not even deign a second glance at my 
 treasures. Well, I have them arranged handily upon 
 a set of shelves, which I put up in a flat dry goods 
 box, that cost me twenty-five cents. It stands on 
 end, against the East wall of my room, a few feet 
 from the Southeast corner, to the right of my cot. 
 At the head of the latter, against the South wall, I 
 have fixed a bracket for my lamp, and here, reclining 
 
14 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 on my couch, wlien fatigued, I am in touch, physical- 
 ly at least, with those who have made man's life 
 human. On the upper shelf I have Thucydides, 
 Homer, Sophocles, Aristophanes, "The Republic of 
 Plato," with the dialogues called Critias, Parmen- 
 edes, "The Sophist" and the "l\Ietaphysics" of 
 Aristotle. On the second shelf I have the works 
 of Goethe and Hegel, complete. On the third, I 
 have Shakespeare, Moliere, Calderon, and on the 
 lowest shelf I have Sterne and Cervantes. 
 
 In the shop we had a pleasant day. We crowded 
 the floor with flasks to its full capacity. I molded 
 three of them, out of which I lost one, but as the 
 Doctor lost two, and there was an unusually heavy 
 percentage of scrap throughout the shop, my mis- 
 fortune may not be attributable altogether to the 
 want of skill or care. The boys all claim that the 
 iron was bad. Still the percentage of my loss was 
 too great to be attributed to that cause alone. I 
 must pull myself together, restrain myself, not per- 
 mit my mind to philander about, but stay at home 
 with my work, until habit and routine bring me 
 liberty to skylark with impunity. 
 
 May 27, 1856. 
 
 A splendid night's rest, and the air in my room 
 delightful. I retired early last night and awoke with 
 the first blush of mornmg in the East. The view 
 from my East window at break of day is very inter- 
 esting. Less than a quarter of a mile distant the 
 eye rests upon the Mississippi, sweeping by at right 
 angles to the line of vision. At first nothing is seen 
 but the mighty stream, growing more distinct and 
 gradually wider and wider, as the light increases 
 with the approaching day — until a mile or more away, 
 y^- I think I see the farther shore. But no! See! It 
 is but a clump of trees, an island and beyond, and 
 beyond, and still farther beyond there is water, and 
 water, and more water, until, with still increasing 
 light, the eye sweeps the whole expanse to the 
 Eastern bluff — from eight to twenty miles distant. 
 And there, in the beyond, while gazing, and musing 
 upon this mighty mass of irresistible force, placidly 
 gliding down its self-prepared path, there on its 
 Eastern shore arises the sun, with light and life for 
 a new day. It was his approach, then, that re- 
 vealed the stream, in all its grand proportions, to 
 my sight. But what is it, what is this stream? 
 
 The Mississippi? With so and so many miles of 
 navigable water, running in such and such directions, 
 with such and such an average velocity per hour, 
 etc., etc.; has a discharge of so and so many billions 
 of cubic feet of water an hour, or second at flood 
 tide, and so and so many at low water — and the 
 like? All this is well and more than welcome. It 
 gives me the relation which the river sustains to 
 man, and his needs, but it does not answer the ques- 
 tion asked — what is the river? 
 
 Figuratively speaking, it is nature's waste pipe, 
 draining the excess of precipitation over and above 
 evaporation, that takes place upon the area en- 
 closed by its water-shed, back to earth's reservoir. 
 
 the ocean, whence these very rays that reveal the 
 stream to my sight have drawn every drop of the 
 vast flood, by kindling the meteorological process 
 of the sky. Yes, that sun that reveals that stream 
 to the outer eye, creates that stream for the inner 
 eye, and it takes both the outer and the inner to 
 ask and to answer the question. For the inner eye 
 the sun creates that stream, all streams, and with 
 them the chain of causaton that stretches from the 
 first rude labors of erosion, where mountain is ground 
 into plain, and plain is furrowed into mountain, and 
 the home of the flora and the fauna is prepared, up 
 to the very birth of intelligence in man — the very 
 birth of the inner eye, that transfigures the external, 
 the many, the apparent heterogeneous, into one in- 
 terdependent, harmonious totality. 
 
 In the shop the quality of the iron furnished yes- 
 terday became a theme of discussion. I learned that 
 good iron, in molders' phrase, means an iron which 
 at a given temperature, such as the furnace, called 
 a cupola, is calculated to produce, possesses a high 
 degree of fluidity. As a result of this quality, the 
 iron when poured into the mold rills the latter com- 
 pletely, while a less degree of fluidity leaves parts 
 of the mold unfilled and, as a consequence, holes 
 in the plate, or pot to be cast. The degree of fluidi- 
 ty necessarily varies with the size and form of the 
 article to be produced. Another element of success 
 is the degree of tenacity which the metal possesses 
 after it sets, or cools into solidity. If the article 
 to be produced has the form of a thin sheet, like 
 stove-plate or hollow-ware, the metal must possess a 
 high degree of tenacity, or the plate or pot is 
 liable to crack during the process of cooling, or 
 mounting, or in subsequent use, or handling. Fluidity ; 
 in its molten, and tenacit)' in its solid state are, ■ 
 therefore, the qualities sought in the metal used. But 
 these vary with the different ores and with the dif- 
 ferent processes employed to obtain the metal from 
 the ore; and while mere inspection will reveal to the 
 experienced eye the general degree of these qualities 
 present in a given piece of pig-iron, there is still 
 room for deception and mistake, which the practical 
 test reveals at the expense, sometimes quite heavy, 
 of both the establishment and the operatives. The 
 shop loses the fuel, labor, wear and tear on the im- 
 plements involved in smelting the metal, and the 
 molder his labor, as he works by the piece. After 
 learning these details, I was innocent enough to sug- 
 gest to the doctor that these losses might, or ought 
 to be obviated by the proper tests. As Jake heard 
 the remark he called out to Mike: 
 
 "What do you say to that, Mike? Isn't that the 
 same advice which one of your neighbors in the old 
 country gave to his son — never to go into the water 
 until he had learned how to swim? Never put iron 
 into a cupola until you know what it will be when it 
 comes out?" 
 
 "It is our neighbor, you mean, Mr. Jenkins, the 
 orange man, and his lad, Willie, that got drowned 
 by taking his father's advice — the very advice you 
 mentioned," retorted Mike. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 15 
 
 "You did not hear Mr. Jenkins when he gave that 
 advice, did you, Mike?" I asked. 
 
 "Indeed I did not," said Mike. "But I heard of 
 the man who dragged the dead boy out of the pond. 
 And why do you ask?" 
 
 "I always thought, Mike, that the father told his 
 son not to go into the water beyond his depth, 
 until he had learned how to swim. But the reporter 
 of the story left out the qualifying phrase — beyond 
 his depth — and so turned a piece of wholesome ad- 
 vice into an absurdity." 
 
 "Sure, and what made you think the reporter a 
 liar by omission?" asked Mike. 
 
 "Because he was an Englishman, talking about an 
 Irishman," I answered, "and I never believe a man 
 when he talks about another whom he has wronged!" 
 
 "God have mercy upon the poor natives! The 
 Dutch and the Irish are pulling together!" said Jake. 
 
 " 'Tis Christian like in you, Jake, to pray for the 
 souls of the poor savages, the natives, after you have 
 murdered them." 
 
 And so it went on, by the hour, in the best of good 
 humor. After they had become quiet, I asked Jake: 
 
 "Do you really think that the boy could not have 
 learned to swim in two feet of water, where there 
 was no danger of drowning, as well as in ten?" 
 
 "Suppose he could — who was talking about that?" 
 
 "Well, I was. I was thinking, you see, that we 
 could ascertain the quality of a lot of pig-iron, 
 uniform in character,, as well from an ounce as from 
 a ton, and that we could do this without any danger 
 of loss." 
 
 While making this remark, I had not observed that 
 the foreman was within hearing distance. He was 
 e amining the scrap of yesterday with great care 
 ai d finally asked the Doctor what he thought of 
 th iron, adding that it was a new lot and seemed 
 to be below the standard. The Doctor thought that 
 th iron was of good strength, but would require 
 mt re Scotch pig to make it run, unless the fault 
 lay with the cupola man. This the foreman thought 
 could not be, as he himself had given more than 
 usual attention to the furnace, for the very reason 
 that they had charged with untried metal. 
 
 May 28, 1856. 
 friend Mcintosh, formerly a 
 college. He is a 
 
 Had a visit from 
 
 classmate of mine at 
 
 Creek Indian, of mixed blood — grandson of the pres- 
 ent chief, Mcintosh. He is some years 
 
 younger than myself, and a splendid fellow. He was 
 very much surprised to find me in a shop; proposed 
 that I quit at once, pack my trunk and go home with 
 him. I explained my situation as far as I could, 
 that is, as far as I could make him understand it; for 
 he has no conception of human life, as I well re- 
 member from our intimacy at school. After much 
 sparring the upshot was that I promised to come 
 out to see him, during the summer vacation, in July 
 or August, when the shop shuts down for repairs. 
 "That is," I added, "if I can hit upon some way of 
 traveling not beyond my present means." This \z 
 thought he could arrange quite readily — he would 
 
 himself come for me, and bring me back, too, if I 
 insisted upon coming back. I was not prepared for 
 this. I had treated his proposition only in a half 
 serious way and, to my surprise, found him in bitter 
 earnest; so that I stood engaged with him for the 
 journey before I had given the matter a moment's 
 deliberation. I have agreed to let him know, as 
 soon as the fact can be ascertained, when I will be 
 at liberty, and he will come. He attracted me at 
 school because he seemed to be alone, and when I 
 had made his acquaintance, in a casual way, he struck 
 me as a new thing, as a boy entirely different from 
 the rest of the students, and even from the human 
 beings at large that I had met in life. Not one of 
 the motives that usually control our conduct, and 
 the effectiveness of which we take for granted, in 
 every day intercourse, had the slightest hold upon 
 him. The professors, their good or bad opinions, 
 were entirely indifferent; society ladies, their smil- 
 ing approval, a blank; the applause of his fellow 
 students, or even their respect, nothing; in short, he 
 was a mystery that attracted me with all the power 
 of fascination. In all his studies he was above the 
 average, except in mathematics. As a speaker, a 
 declaimer, he excelled. It was the difficulty which 
 he experienced in mathematics, in which he saw 
 neither sense, nor use, as he told me, that brought us 
 nearer together. As it was a favorite study of mine, 
 I took pains to show him some practical uses of the 
 science, and when I had aroused his interest, or 
 curiosity, from that side, I devised help to assist 
 him to a start. The first thing that struck, that 
 aroused interest, was the assertion that with a moder- 
 ate knowledge of the science, a man could determine 
 with absolute certainty the distance that intervened 
 between him and any object visible, however great 
 that distance might be, without going over and 
 measuring it, with a rod or chain. 
 
 "From here to the moon?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Across the river?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "To a hill on the prairie?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Tell how far it is from our house to the Conchata 
 Moun, , without going over the ground?" 
 
 "Yes, to a foot — more' accurately than with foot 
 rule or surveyor's chain!" 
 
 This aroused him, and although it took months 
 he succeeded, and it is the only attainment of which 
 he is proud. Since then he has been a friend of 
 mine, and has staggered and alarmed me more than 
 once at the outbursts of feeling against persons who, 
 he conceived, had wronged me. With the caprice 
 of a child he combines the cunning and executive 
 ability of a man — if we can call acting from impulse, 
 with utter disregard of any consequences, executive 
 ability — executing ability would be perhaps the bet- 
 ter expression. But I must wait and see him in his 
 life, the life his people have created for him; and 
 then I will be able to understand him. See in how 
 far he is rational, how far he is adequate to the condi- 
 
i6 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 tions which that life imposes. Into my life he does 
 not fit, that is plain enough. But what is my life 
 with its conditions to him? 
 
 I put in only half a day in the shop on account of 
 this visit — must make up for this during this and 
 the next week. 
 
 May 29, 1856. 
 
 A full job and good iron. Had a great time an- 
 swering questions about my visitor of yesterday. In 
 the evening, while cutting sand, the foreman told 
 me to call at the office before going home. I did 
 so and found the proprietor of the foundry, Mr. 
 
 F . He asked me where I had worked last. Said 
 
 that he understood I had made the remark some 
 days ago that we ought to find out the quality of 
 the iron by tests in a small way before we used it in 
 the shop. He would like to know whether I had 
 seen this done in other shops and how the tests 
 were made. I told him that I had never worked in 
 a foundry before, but that I was acquainted with 
 analytic chemistry, and knew as a fact that all the 
 metallurgic operations in Europe were conducted by 
 the light derived from that science; that not an ore 
 was handled in the reduction works before its char- 
 acter had been ascertained by an analysis, and its 
 proper treatment determined; that I naturally con- 
 cluded that this could be done with the iron we 
 used; nay, that it was not necessary to make an 
 analysis; but a furnace of sufficient capacity to re- 
 duce a pound or two of metal, and that could be 
 built and operated by any furnace man would be suf- 
 ficient, in the way of outlay, to determine the facts 
 and save the loss. He listened very kindly and 
 asked whether I had any chemical apparatus. I told 
 him that I had not, beyond a few tubes and vessels, 
 fit only to make some simple qualitative tests, by the 
 wet process; that the apparatus to make a quantita- 
 tive, or determinative analysis was expensive. Then 
 by way of explanation I gave him a brief statement 
 of the circumstances that landed me in his shop as 
 an apprentice. He seemed to be interested and was 
 kind enough to ask whether I thought that a man of 
 my acquirements was only fit to drudge in a sand- 
 heap. This affected me in such a way that I 
 answered him in a somewhat higher tone of voice. 
 
 "Mr. F , to me that occupation is best that 
 
 pays best, and that, at the same time, leaves my 
 mind unoccupied." 
 
 "Of course, of course, my man, in such a matter 
 every man has a right to follow his own choice." 
 
 Saying this he arose from his chair, which I took 
 to mean that it was time for me to leave — which I 
 did, after bidding him good night. 
 
 May 30, 1856. 
 Was met this morning by the foreman in an un- 
 usually friendly manner. He told me, with an air 
 as if it were a message from heaven, that the old 
 gentleman, meaning the proprietor, seemed quite 
 interested in me; had directed him to give me a 
 chance, and that he intended to have a floor for me 
 in a few days; thought he would give me a job of 
 
 griddles, to which he would add some skillets, in a 
 mon.h or two. I thanked him heartily, spoke about 
 it to the Doctor, who congratulated me on my good 
 luck, and pushed my work with a light heart. Our 
 floor was full by eleven o'clock and we had two 
 hours and a half to wait for iron. Of this time I 
 took advantage by helping Mr. Keff, who is running 
 a job of griddles. As the foreman passed the floor 
 and saw this, he smiled a-kind of knowingly — but 
 said nothing. Of course, if I have to run such a job, 
 in a day or two, it is but natural that I should try 
 to get the hang of it, beforehand. But there is noth- 
 ing in it. The job is the simplest in the shop, unless 
 it be stove feet and grates. Still, it belongs to the 
 hollow-ware class, and can be made to pay well. 
 
 Sunday, May 31, 1856. 
 
 Took dinner with Mr. Robertson, according to 
 promise. Told Miss Elizabeth of my success in the 
 shop and my intended trip to the Territory. The 
 first gave her great pleasure, and this seemed to 
 make it more desirable to me, too, than it looked 
 before I told her. But the trip to the Territory she 
 thought unwise. 
 
 "Why, I shall not see you for a whole month, or 
 six weeks, Harry!" said she, with a kind of re- 
 proach in her voice, and such a kindly look, that if 
 I had not promised Mac. in dead earnest, I believe 
 I would back out, just to please her. Well, I will 
 send her a long letter when I get out there, and that 
 will make her happy. 
 
 Mr. Robertson himself took my success in the shop 
 as a matter of course. In his opinion, a man who 
 can keep a smooth edge on a currier knife can do 
 anything; and there is something in that fact, to the 
 extent at least, that a person who has a trained 
 hand for one mechanical operation will acquire an- 
 other with less trouble than one who has not. 
 
 Before Mac. left the other day I brought him up 
 here, into my room, to show him the river in all the 
 magnitude of a flood-tide. He almost embarrassed 
 me by asking when I intended to move in, and shook 
 his head when I told him that I had moved in al- 
 ready. 
 
 "Why, of course, I might have known that, be- 
 cause here are your old friends," he said, looking 
 over my library. "They are to you what the prairie 
 is to me in the summer; the forests in the winter, 
 and the streams and lakes the year round. I would 
 not give one day of life on the prairie, in May or 
 June, for- a thousand years in the best library in the 
 world, but I should like to have a man like Homer 
 with me, especially around the camp fire, at night. 
 You know what I have thought? You remember, 
 a discussion sprang up at school, as to who wrote 
 Homer. I have thought that these poems were 
 camp fire stories." 
 
 What do you think of that, as an Indian's answer, 
 to a question of erudition? 
 
 "I think it quite likely, Mac," said I, "that the 
 song sang itself into shape in some such way. One 
 thing is certain to my mind, the poem was never 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 i; 
 
 written by a man who said to himself: "Come, let 
 us go, too, and write an epic!" 
 
 "A book of that kind writes itself. Speaking gen- 
 erally, a book that does not write itself is hardly 
 worth reading, and one that does is never finished. 
 Every reader, actual reader, will see the thought, tke 
 truth that sought to embody itself, sought to obtain 
 expression more fully, in ampler proportion, verili- 
 cation and application than the author, for the simple 
 reason that the process of embodiment of thai 
 thought has not stopped short with the final punctua- 
 tion mark upon the last page of che book. Tliat 
 process abides, is the abiding. Through it, truth 
 reveals itself more and more clearly, from time to 
 time, to the mind of man, to the control of his 
 affairs. It reveals itself. It, the thought, truth in 
 subjective form, possesses the man, ihe individual 
 and compels him into utterance. Inadequacy to the 
 task will mar his book, but if he is really possessed 
 of the truth, and not a mere hireling who works for 
 wages, strut, peacockism, and the like, his utter- 
 ances will be considered, however imperfect, nay, 
 though they be but mutterings. In a dark night, 
 with a starless sky overhead, the eye rests with 
 pleasure even upon a glow-worm — so eager is it after 
 lightl" 
 
 "These are old times over again! I will come 
 for you; be sure and be ready when I come." And 
 we parted* 
 
 June I, 1856. 
 
 Found my floor prepared this morning when I 
 reached the shop. The foreman has treated me kind- 
 ly. He has transferred Jake, with his own consent, 
 to the new shop, and given me his floor, right along 
 side of Doc. Hall. This is a great advantage, as he 
 can assist me, in case of need, without my running 
 about. I covered the floor over half full and saved 
 every flask. This is a very good beginning, but I 
 must do better. I will see what an early start will 
 do in the morning, and so— to bed. 
 
 June 2, 1856. 
 
 Put up a three-dollar job, and had an hour's rest 
 at noon. But I started as soon as I had light enough 
 to work by — an hour and a half to two hours ahead 
 of the rest. This is a great help, and I find that 
 I am not as tired as I was last night. So I will 
 make an early start the rule, and if our grub boss, 
 as the boys call the man with whom we take our 
 meals, grumbles, we will try and make some other 
 arrangements. The foreman cautioned me not to 
 rush things too much. 
 
 "You are not made of steel, and I will not charge 
 you rent if you don't fill the floor every day this 
 month." 
 
 I thanked him, and told him "that labor hurts no 
 one — certainly not me. It gives me rest that I have 
 to earn with labor to enjoy thoroughly" — but to 
 bed. 
 
 June 3, 1856. 
 
 A great day — every flask up by twelve o'clock, and 
 to show that I had some grit to spare, I molded a 
 pot for the Doctor during the dinner hour. But 
 
 after I had poured ofif, shaken out and cut my sand 
 by six o'clock, I felt like I ought not to have done 
 it. I was very tired and am so still. 
 
 June 4, 1856. 
 Put up my job with ease and comfort — mainly 
 because I knew that I could do it. Another thing 
 that seems to be an assistance is a cup of coffee, 
 which I drank to-day, during the noon hour. I got 
 it from an old French lady, who lives close to the 
 shop. An excellent article. I read, years ago, that 
 it is an anti-fatigue and therefore never use it, either 
 in the morning, when I am not fatigued, or in the 
 evening, when I need fatigue in order to give me 
 rest. But at noon, when half of the day's labor is 
 done, and the part most exacting upon the physical 
 strength is to begin, I thought it might possibly be 
 an advantage; and as a result, I do feel less ex- 
 hausted to-night than since I commenced work in 
 the shop. The most exhausting effects produced 
 upon the system are attributable to the excessive 
 amount of moisture lost by perspiration, during the 
 pouring off, and the subsequent work of the day, 
 when the temperature of the shop is necessarily very 
 high. The loss of this moisture produces thirst, 
 nature's demand to replace the unusual waste, and 
 water is consumed, it is no exaggeration to say, by 
 the gallon. This is no sooner swallowed than it pours 
 through the skin in streams, so that at night I feel 
 a goneness, a washed-out, laxness — something like, I 
 imagine, a dish-cloth that is wrung out and hung up 
 to dry on a thorn bush might feel if it had sensation. 
 This feeling is moderated perceptibly to-night, and 
 it may be owing to the coffee. At least it will do to 
 watch. 
 
 June 5, 1856. 
 Paid out my last dollar to-day and went into debt, 
 twenty-five dollars, to the Doctor; that is to say, if 
 buying a thing that does not perish, that I do not 
 eat, drink or wear out, and paying for it, in part, 
 with borrowed money, can be properly called going 
 in debt. I bought a lot, fifty feet by one hundred 
 and twenty-five feet, the Southeast corner of city 
 
 block No. for two hundred and seventy-five 
 
 dollars, with an option, for ninety days, upon the 
 adjoining fifty feet front — at two hundred and fifty 
 dollars. I made the first payment of ninety-one dol- 
 lars and sixty-five cents, and gave two notes, for like 
 amount, payable in one and two years from date, or 
 sooner, at my pleasure, with six per cent interest 
 from date until paid. It was to make this payment 
 that I borrowed the twenty-five dollars. This is the 
 first step to give reality to my resolution to make 
 this city my home, and although not a very long 
 one, it already makes me feel like I had stuck root 
 into the place. A man without house, home or 
 family is not a citizen anywhere, in the real sense 
 of the word. He resembles a liberty pole, that pros- 
 pers alike in all soils and is identified with none. 
 It bears aloft the insignia of freedom, with great 
 show of straight, perpendicular, self-reliance; but 
 that ensign is not its product. It produces nothing, 
 
i8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 neither foliage for shelter nor fruit for nurture; bar- 
 ren pole, the skeleton of a tree — a barren pole! 
 
 This debt which I contracted may be of use to 
 me, a spur to exertion, a crutch to assist frugality 
 how to get along, how to learn to walk. It will also 
 dispense with those thick-walled vaults that contain 
 vacancy, abundant emptiness, and those costly safes, 
 with cast steel sides and doors, with machine locks 
 that lock up the nothing within, so successfully, 
 from the profane eye of the public. In addition to 
 these advantages the purchase will make me a par- 
 ticipant in the silent accumulations which result from 
 the aggregate endeavors of a community, especially 
 where it enters upon a new area of action — called 
 the enhancement of values. It is remarkable that 
 this accumulation should always be in strict propor- 
 tion — natural conditions equal — -to the amount of in- 
 dustry, frugality and justice that prevail in the locali- 
 ty itself, and in the country tributary to it. Or 
 rather, is it not justice alone that is the fountain of 
 well-being for man? Where are industry and fru- 
 gality themselves born, if not u,nder the fiat of jus- 
 tice, that guarantees to me my own, the result of my 
 deed, the work of my hands? Will I go down to the 
 shop in the morning and toil until night unless that 
 toil turns into a present resource for me? Will I do 
 it, knowing that my earnings, the result of my deed 
 will be taken from me, either by fraud or force, with- 
 out recourse, on my return home? Certainly not! It 
 is justice, then, its actual presence, and the confidence 
 which it inspires in me, in its power to guarantee to 
 me the result of my deed, that is the source of my 
 industry and frugality. Justice itself produces noth- 
 ing, but without it nothing can be produced. It is 
 the source of industry and economy, and industry 
 and economy are the source of wealth, ind>vidual no 
 less than collective, and these are the sources of the 
 enhancement of values of real property, wherever 
 they are practiced. 
 
 June 6, 1856. 
 
 Job all right; almost ceased to be a burden. Can 
 cover the floor without any more fatigue than a 
 night's rest dissipates. Have lost nothing in 
 strength and health, even this week, which of course 
 has been exacting on my physical frame. Find the 
 cup of coffee at noon of service. Drink it cold with 
 cream and sugar. It seems to double the effect of 
 rest at that hour. Feel remarkably refreshed when 
 the afternoon labors begin. 
 
 Had a talk with the foreman about my purchase 
 of lots, which was all over the shop in less than 
 an hour after I closed the transaction; talk of 
 women's tea-parties, or sewing-circles for tittle tat- 
 tle, idle wagging of tongues — the shop is worse than 
 all the gossiping sisterhoods that ever assembled for 
 exercise, and there is not a woman in, or in hearing 
 distance of it. 
 
 The foreman, however, spoke quite sensibly; ap- 
 proved my plan of handling my savings, but was 
 doubtful about the locality where I had purchased — 
 as to its desirableness, future prospects, etc., and 
 thought that I had better not avail myself of the 
 
 option, as I might do better, perhaps, elsewhere in 
 the city. I thanked him for his advice, but explain- 
 ed that I had taken the option upon the adjoining 
 lots, with the view of enhancing the value of the 
 corner, in case I should be able to make the addi- 
 tional purchase, as it would give me a double front, 
 and hence a double chance of availing myself of 
 the growth of improvement, either on the street run- 
 ning North and South, or the one running East and 
 West. 
 
 "I had not thought of that," said he, "but it is a 
 good idea, and as you seem to have thought the 
 matter over, it is likely that you had a good reason 
 for choosing that locality, too." 
 
 "None," said I, "except that I have noticed that 
 railroads are causing great changes in the commer- 
 cial centers, in the East, where I have been, and 
 that they have made values where none existed 
 before. The economic law seems to be that they 
 must either reach the heart of the business centers 
 of the cities, where they enter, or they will create 
 business property convenient to their termini. I have 
 looked the city over with a view to this and made 
 my selection accordingly, and while it does not suit 
 me exactly, it is the best I see at present, and feel 
 confident that my earnings, which I propose to put 
 there, will not be idle — will earn me something." 
 
 "But why doesn't it suit you?" 
 
 "My true plan was to buy me a twenty-five foot 
 lot, as convenient to the center of the city, or its 
 business, as possible; pay for it as I earned the 
 money; then build a small house upon it, fronting 
 the alley, and move in. Then commence the im- 
 provement of the front of the lot with a house, such 
 as my means and prospects, together with the de- 
 mand for houses would justify. This would make 
 me my own creditor, my own landlord, in the short- 
 est possible time; and render it unnecessary to trust 
 other people with my earnings, or pay them wages 
 for taking care of it, or pay rent for houses built 
 with my own money. But as I have no family, I 
 thought that I would wait with that plan, and in the 
 meantime save and secure what I can, by putting it 
 where nobody will notice it for some years to come, 
 perhaps, but where it is not going to waste, at least. 
 
 "By no means, Henry," said he. "And let me tell 
 you, the saving and investing it, with the forethought 
 you have shown, is itself worth more than many 
 times the money you will have paid for the property, 
 even if you should lose every cent of it. But the 
 true plan for every mechanic to follow is, as you 
 say, to get himself his own home first. If every man 
 in this shop would adopt that plan, we could raise 
 the wages ten per cent and make money by the 
 operation," he said, and passed on. 
 
 I was surprised at this, because I had not sup- 
 posed that the man ever thought of anything be- 
 yond the simple routine of his daily duties. But 
 that is the way! We are prone to think that the 
 world is a mystery to everybody but ourselves, when 
 in reality every man who exercises practical control, 
 beyond mere drudgery, does so by virtue of thought 
 
 ( -xr^-i-x- - --'^ •• 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 19 
 
 and by the extent to which that thought has rendered 
 his surroundings luminous to him. 
 
 June 7, 1856. 
 
 Sunday. Took dinner with Mr. Robertson, or 
 rather, with Miss Elizabeth, as she insists. Had a 
 very pleasant time in showing her my pass book, 
 which figured some sixteen dollars, exclusive of 
 Saturday's job, earned dufing the week. Saturday's 
 work is taken up on Monday morning, and will bring 
 the amount close to twenty dollars. She showed me 
 the book of her father and brother, which together 
 showed a credit only a few cents above the amount, 
 and of this John had earned' more than half. This 
 gave her something of a triumph over her father and 
 brother, which she enjoyed, however, without the 
 usual "I told you so," but by merely intimating 
 that her confidence in my judgment, when I conclud- 
 ed to learn molding instead of sticking to the cur- 
 rier-shop, as they wanted me to, was justified and 
 this, in deference to their feelings, she expressed to 
 me privately. I took the opportunity to explain to 
 her the real motives that led; me to adopt that 
 course. 
 
 "I can not," said I, "devote my mind exclusively to 
 the business of making money; and yet I must ac- 
 quire a competence for old age. This I regard as a 
 duty, and the opportunity of doing so, without en- 
 slaving my mind, a high privilege. I could make 
 money in the tanning and shoe business, as I have 
 done before, provided I could give my mindi to it 
 as I did then, but that is impossible now. With my 
 present mental habits I can not allow my physical 
 wants to take precedence. I cannot and will not 
 enthrone them as the exclusive arbiters of my con- 
 duct, my time, my life. Not because I regard it 
 degrading or unbecoming for a man to acquire a 
 competence, or even wealth — far from it; the reverse 
 of it. Let him who can devote himself to it, heart 
 and soul, be convinced that he too has a worthy task. 
 But that task is not mine. I can not devote my 
 whole mind to it and without that, success is not 
 attainable. Without that I am a journeyman, whose 
 skill has become habit and whose physical labor 
 alone enters the market. 
 
 "Had I returned to the currier's shop, with my 
 knowledge of the business, as well as of the trade, 
 how could I have prevented being absorbed by cares, 
 with which as a journeyman I have no concern, for 
 the reason that from them I can draw no profit? In 
 my present situation I sell my labor and have no 
 further care. In the morning I go to the shop, where 
 I find everything ready for my reception. I enter 
 upon my work with no one to hinder, dictate or 
 hector; my mind occupied with such a theme as it 
 sees fit to pursue, or as may present itself worthy of 
 its attention. My labor dpne, the product is counted, 
 put to my credit in that book, and at the end of 
 the week my pay is forthcoming. I have no concern 
 with the condition of the market, either of the raw 
 material that enters into my product or of the pro- 
 duct itself. Nor yet does the financial condition of 
 the world, that is, the norma) or abnormal condition 
 
 of trade, demand attention. Yet all these questions, 
 and a hundred others are inseparably connectedj with 
 the operation of the factory as a business venture, 
 and the endless sources of anxiety to him who has 
 the burden, the responsibility for success or failure 
 upon his shoulders, as the phrase is, that is upon 
 his mind, day in and day out, for they are questions 
 of probability, where the best answer obtainable is. 
 but a guess, and yet the conditions are inexorable. 
 
 I then related to her my purchase of lots, and 
 how I proposed to pay for them; also my present 
 indebtedness to a shop mate, which, however, I pro- 
 posed to wipe out before our next dinner — that is, a 
 week from today. She listened with great interest, 
 and the sympathy with which she entered into my 
 projects for the future was very gratifying to me. 
 It is so pleasant to find a human being to whom 
 I can talk in full confidence, after twelve long years 
 of utter isolation among strangers. 
 
 June 8, 1856. 
 
 Resume my reading in the morning, before I leave 
 for the shop. I find it an excellent practice to put 
 a page, or paragraph, of Aristotle, Plato or Hegel 
 to soak — that is, transfer it to my memory in the 
 morning and take it with me to my work. During 
 the jostlings of the day it usually works itself into 
 clearness of meaning, so that when I look at it again 
 at night and trace its connections, all obscurity has 
 vanished. 
 
 It is true that he who labors to accumulate wealth, 
 or a fortune, as it is usually called, is engaged in a 
 rational occupation. The a(Jverse doctrine, in the 
 sense in which it is quoted, as a rule of life, "Take 
 what you have and give it to the poor" — is absurd. 
 Suppose I take these twenty dollars which I re- 
 ceived today and give them to the man who has 
 nothing, who is poor. All right; say I have done 
 so! What then? He now has the twenty dollars and 
 I have nothing — that is, I am poor now. Ought he 
 not, then, obey the rule too? Ought he not to give 
 me — that is, hand back the twenty dollars? Are we 
 not whence we started? 
 
 But, how about the world in which this command 
 was uttered? Was it not the Roman worldi? A 
 world shrunk into the universal despotism, unlimited 
 in power — a world of pure caprice? Might it not be 
 wise, with Neros and Caligulas in the field, to be 
 lightly burdened with this world's goods, the Roman 
 world's goods, that belonged to the despot, goods, 
 world, and all? But that world has perished, and 
 perished not by accident. 
 
 Who builds the factory, with its machinery — the 
 factory, the machinery, the implements of the in- 
 dustry of the world, of this wosld, the world of to- 
 day? Are they not accumulated wealth? They mul- 
 tiply the productive capacity of the individual from 
 three to a hundred fold, and his comforts of life 
 in the same proportion, nay, greater! Are they not 
 the incarnation of the laws of nature, the will of the 
 Creator, which thus rules on earth, in the affairs of 
 man, as it does in the heavens the planetary systems 
 round about! 
 
20 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 But may it not be that wealth might be accumu- 
 lated artificially by the political means called cor- 
 porations, and the pursuit of it, as a special vocation 
 be avoided? This method overlooks the point that it 
 is the ability to accumulate that begets the abil- 
 ity to control and it is this ability alone that ren- 
 ders the existence of the accumulation possible. If 
 then it is rational that man should meet his vi^ants 
 in a rational manner, that is, with the least outlay of 
 exertion; that he should enjoy with cheerful satisfac- 
 tion the largest degree of comfort which his exer- 
 tions thus applied, will realize for him, then these im- 
 plements and organizations that facilitate this realiza- 
 tion are essential to the rational existence of the 
 human race. But if these implements and organiza- 
 tions are essential, then the accumulations of wealth 
 are essential, and with them the ability upon which 
 they depend, and this is attainable by practice and 
 by practice alone, like every other ability possessed 
 by man. For in this world, the world of today, man 
 is what he achieves, no more, no less. This is the 
 measure of his manhood, for it is the measure of his 
 freedpm. What man achieves as man, that is what 
 he is. That is the human life, with its resources 
 which he has founded, and I as an individual will 
 wield those resources, participate in their blessings 
 in proportion as I share the purposes of man, the 
 purposes of the race, and these depend primarily 
 upon its conviction. 
 
 Had a friendly chat with Mike during the noon 
 hour. He asked me what I thought of the Molders' 
 Union. I told him that I had not given the matter 
 any thought, as I supposed I would have time enough 
 to examine into it before I would be qualified to 
 enter the organization. To my surprise he intimated 
 that perhaps, as a special case, he could manage to 
 have me admitted in the course of a week or two — 
 that I was this, that and the other thing, and above 
 all, quite popular with the members. Really, he him- 
 self was of the opinion that under the circumstances 
 of the case, the boys ought to be proud of the chance 
 — and more of the like sort. It struck me that this 
 was putting it on a little thick, too much so for it to 
 be genuine metal, and resolved in my own mind to be 
 a little careful. I was confirmed in this course when 
 I learned that the only reason for the existence of 
 the organization, in Mike's opinion, at least, was 
 that bad man, the proprietor of the foundry — a per- 
 son whom I regarded as quite an essential factor in 
 my economic arrangements, and from whom I have 
 received nothing but kind words and prompt pay. 
 I finally told Mike that I would leave the matter 
 in his hands, but that I must have definite informa- 
 tion in regard to the objects, together with the 
 means to be employed for their attainment before I 
 could unite with any organization whatever. 
 
 "Up to this time," said I, "I belong to but one 
 organization, the state, and all my endeavors are 
 directed to understand its meaning, the duties which 
 it imposes and how to conform my conduct to them. 
 If you will get me the constitution and by-laws 
 
 of the union I will examine them, and if they contain 
 or require nothing that conflicts with my duty as a 
 citizen, I will be ready to join, at any time that I 
 am qualified, or I will act in harmony with them, to 
 the furtherance of any interest that may be thought 
 worthy, though not as yet a member." 
 
 This seemed satisfactory. He promised to get me 
 the documents which I had requested, and we went 
 on with our work. 
 
 Found, in shaking out, several of my flasks injured 
 by what seemed to be loose sand. Asked the Doctor 
 about it and he told me that it was owing to the 
 sand being too old, and kindly showed me how much 
 new sand to add to the pile, in order to give it the 
 necessary ad. or cohesiveness. 
 
 June 9, 1856. 
 
 A fine day. Sand worked well and I had a com- 
 plete job. Not a scrap of scrap, which seemed to 
 please the foreman as much as it pleased me myself. 
 At noon I had a visit from Jake, who spoke to me, 
 accidently of course, upon the same subject that 
 Mike broached yesterday. He thought what fine 
 times the boys would have at the meetings after I 
 became a member. They would have somebody that 
 could make a speech with the best of them, and so 
 on, more on the same text. I have learned since 
 that the union is quite strong in the shop; that it 
 started among the whisky-soaks, the improvident 
 hand-to-mouth fellows and has gradually extended, 
 until quite respectable workmen, like Mike and Jake 
 were roped into the ranks; that they were now used 
 as decoys, and the probability was that the shop 
 would fall under their control. 
 
 June 10, 1856. 
 
 My job runs itself. It requires no further atten- 
 tion, but hard work. The foreman promised some- 
 time ago to substitute skillets for griddles as soon 
 as I might be ready, so I told him today that I 
 would take a dollar's worth, or as many as were con- 
 venient. The same amount of labor on skillets will 
 bring me more money, as it requires more skill to 
 run the job. He told me: "Yes, I will have them 
 put on this evening" — and I thanked him. 
 
 "Doctor," said he, "your cub, if he keeps on will 
 soon run No. 8 fronts, the old pattern." 
 
 "He has brass enough to undertake it now, if you 
 pay him, so that he can make wages on them," said 
 the Doctor. 
 
 I learned that the pattern in question was a very 
 diflficult one to run, on account of its lightness, but I 
 went with him to look at it; and he told me that he 
 regarded the pattern good for nothing. 
 
 "Not because it is too light," said he, "but it is 
 uneven; why I can feel it," sliding the pattern up 
 and down between his finger and thumb. "But I can 
 not make those fellows acknowledge that it is a 
 botch." 
 
 "I will soon find that out beyond cavil!" 
 
 "How?" . 
 
 "Just wait a moment," and I stepped over to my 
 tool box and got the calipers. With them I located 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 21 
 
 the exact spot and the difference of the thickness 
 in question. He looked at the little implement, 
 asked its name and then told me that I had done 
 him a service. 
 
 "I always have trouble with my pattern makers, 
 molders and finishers. Whenever they make a 
 botch they swear that the fault is not in the pat- 
 tern, but in the molder. No matter how clearly I 
 am convinced that the pattern is uneven, they will 
 stick to it that it is perfect. Let me see — have you 
 ever seen one larger than this, large enough to test 
 a bottom plate with, I mean." 
 
 "You can find them of all sizes, but if they have 
 none large enough in store, we can make one, or 
 you can order one from the factory." 
 
 "How did you happen to bring this thing with you 
 to the shop.?" 
 
 "One of my No. lo patterns did not run to suit me; 
 and after I had tried everything the Doctor sug- 
 gested, I concluded the fault lay in the pattern; and 
 as I could not detect any inequality with my fingers, 
 I thought of the calipers. I found upon trial that 
 the pattern was heavy on one side and of course it 
 did not run well on the other. But after treating 
 the heavy side to a dose of emery paper, it runs all 
 right." 
 "Did you tell anybody about it?" he asked. 
 "No. I supposed every molder knew how to 
 determine and remedy so simple a defect in his pat- 
 tern and of course did not want to expose my ignor- 
 ance." 
 
 "Henry, the molder has nothing to do with the 
 pattern, but to use it as it is furnished him. We 
 pay extravagant prices to a set of lazy, thriftless 
 scamps to make, mold and finish these patterns; and 
 when we find fault with their work, they insult us 
 for opening our mouths. I have more trouble with 
 them than with all the molders and laborers in the 
 shop put together, and all because, while I know 
 what I want, I do not know how to make it myself, 
 am at their mercy, and they know it. But just let 
 them try to impose upon me now. 
 
 "Please don't say anything about it to any one. 
 I want to get even with those fellows." 
 Of course I promised, 
 
 June II, 1856. 
 Rushed my griddles, but worked more slowly on 
 the skillets. It took me nearly until pouring-off 
 time to put up the floor, and I had no chance for 
 rest during the noon hour. Still the cup of coffee 
 helped me through, without any feeling of over- 
 fatigue. Lost but one skillet, and a three dollars 
 and a half job was housed. Told the foreman after 
 pouring off that if it suited him I would commence 
 Monday with skillets alone. He promised; to have 
 them put on and the remaining griddles removed. 
 "How did you find the skillet patterns — all right?" 
 "Yes, I think so, but I have not tested them as 
 yet, thoroughly." 
 
 June 12, 1856. 
 A clean job, with some rest at dinner. Foreman 
 
 asked me to call at his office when through. Found 
 him alone with the pattern for the bottom plate of 
 No. 6 cooking stove upon his table. 
 
 "Now Henry," said he — "I want you to show me 
 how to use this thing so that I can demonstrate any 
 unevenness in this pattern, if there is any, and also 
 where it is." 
 
 "Have you any tallow? Beef or any kind will do." 
 
 "No, but I can get some." 
 
 "Get it and give the pattern a light coating of it. 
 When the grease has cooled, rule off the surface 
 into inch squares, with a sharp stick or blind pencil. 
 Then pass the calipers over these lines both ways, 
 being careful to keep the lower limb pressed against 
 the bottom of the plate. Of course, if the instru- 
 ment is set for the heaviest parts of the plate, when 
 it comes to a light or thin spot, the upper limb will 
 not touch the plate and will leave the lines drawn 
 in the grease untouched, but upon every other part 
 it will wipe them out. This will show the extent of 
 the defect and its locality." 
 
 "That is capital," said he. "Tomorrow evening I 
 will have everything ready for you and we will give 
 it a trial." • June 13, 1856. 
 
 Treated the plate as I had indicated and found 
 upon applying the instrument that it had a thin 
 place, oblong in shape, extending more than three 
 inches in one direction and something over two in 
 the other. One end of this defect was located within 
 an inch of one of the gates, the place where the 
 iron is poured in, and therefore a very serious defect, 
 as it would act as an obstruction to the flow of the 
 metal. Upon testing further I found that this space 
 was to an appreciable degree below the standard 
 thickness of the plate, thus precluding the possibility 
 of obtaining uniformity by reducing the thickness of 
 the heaviest portion. I therefore declared the pat- 
 tern worthless. When I got through, he reached 
 into a closet, brought out a casting and placed it 
 upon the top of the pattern. I recognized at once 
 that the casting had been made of the pattern we 
 had examined, and was not surprised to find a hole 
 in it, corresponding in size and shape to the thin 
 place revealed in the pattern by the instrument. He 
 took a blind pencil and drew the outlines of the 
 hole in the casting upon the greasy surface beneath; 
 then removing the casting, he compared the lines 
 thus drawn with the ones ascertained before and 
 found that they did not vary a quarter of an inch at 
 any one point. 
 
 "That will do, Henry," said he. "I have had more 
 trouble with that worthless botch than I can tell. It 
 came very near costing me the good opinion of my 
 employer. You see it is difficult to get good pat- 
 tern-makers out here in the West, and we have to 
 put up with almost anything. It has been a perfect 
 dread to me whenever a new stove was talked of. The 
 worry with the new patterns is unendurable. And it 
 makes no difference how careful I am to put them 
 into the hands of the best man, there is always a 
 dispute as to who is in fault — for it never happens 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 but what some of the pieces are botched. Don't 
 say anything about this and come in here Monday 
 evening, when you get through." 
 
 Sunday, June 14, 1856. 
 
 Ate dinner with Miss Elizabeth Robertson. Re- 
 ported my weelc's work and had a pleasant time. 
 In the course of our talk she asked me how I pro- 
 posed to spend the Fourth of July. 
 
 "In my room — reading, I suppose." 
 
 "How would you like to go with a small party of 
 friends into the country?" 
 
 "That would be capital, provided I had the selec- 
 tion of the friends." 
 
 "But would you not leave that to me?" 
 
 "On condition." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "That you will not forget to select yourself, and 
 for the rest, the smaller the party the better." 
 
 She then explained to me that she had a friend 
 who had recently married; that her husband owned 
 furniture wagons, had teams and outfit himself for 
 the excursion, and had invited her to get up a party 
 for the occasion. 
 
 "It consists," said she, "of yourself, Mr. Lemberg 
 and his wife, my brother John, sister Mary and my- 
 self." 
 
 "But why do you put the whole crowd between us, 
 between you and me?" 
 
 "Don't you see? I do that to be near you! Just 
 try it and sit in a circle. First, there is yourself, 
 then Mr. Lemberg, then Mrs. Lemberg, then John 
 and Mary, and then, right beside you, myself." 
 
 "Under such circumstances I will go, but you must 
 remember and keep your place during the trip." 
 
 "Why, Henry, every lady knows how to keep her 
 place, don't you know?" And so the banter ran. 
 1 am going to be of the party, but the place where 
 we will go has not as yet been selected. 
 
 Today I examined the result of an experiment 
 which I started some weeks ago. In reading 
 Aristotle last winter, I came across his definition of 
 'organic nature,' and determined to see whether it 
 would coincide with experience. To test this I took 
 as spring approached a cigar box and filled it with 
 mold, in which I planted an acorn, a hickory nut 
 and some seeds of the sugar maple. I have watered 
 and nursed the box carefully in the sunlight for the 
 last month, and this morning I found three of the 
 plants up, in recognizable size — an oak, a maple and 
 hickory nut tree. 
 
 The external conditions under which these three 
 plants were produced are the same. It is the same 
 earth, the same moisture, the same temperature and 
 the same sunlight, supplied to these plants at the 
 same time, to the same amount or degree. Still the 
 acorn produces from these, or under these condi- 
 tions, an oak, the sap of which is astringent, sour. 
 The maple seed from the same conditions produces 
 a maple, the sap of which is sweet; and the hickory 
 nut, a hickory tree, with a sap different from either, 
 and with a foliage highly aromatic, while neither 
 
 oak leaf nor maple possesses any aroma whatever. 
 They are specifically different, the one from the 
 other, and yet are produced from or under the 
 same conditions. All the conditions"^Te~ identical, 
 e-xcept the seeds. The seeds are different, and it is 
 this difference in the seed to which alone I can look 
 as the source of the difference in the results. It is the 
 acorn which possesses the power to select the ele- 
 ments which it elaborates into the oak, from the 
 same cubic foot of ground from which the maple 
 seed selects the elements, under the same conditions 
 of light, temperature and moisture, which it elabo- 
 rates into the sugar-maple. It selects, it, the acorn, 
 the seed selects, takes and rejects — selects what suits 
 its purpose, and that purpose is the organization of 
 the oak, the tree. It selects, appropriates and rejects, 
 and thus organizes this purpose, this ideality into a 
 reality. It is this purpose that guides the selection, 
 superintends the organization, and thus antedates, 
 precedes itself as oak, or tree, in the ideal form of 
 purpose, as acorn or seed. 
 
 But this corresponds with the definition that the 
 organic is a condition of being that is before it 
 exists — self end, self perpetuation — in which product 
 and producer are identical. The oak resumes itself 
 into ideality as acorn, and thus realizes itself into 
 existence as the oak. It also explains the trans- 
 mission of characteristics from parent to offspring, 
 in the higher sphere, the sphere of animal life. There 
 it has been observed as a fact that well defined char- 
 acteristics, both physical and mental, of the male 
 parent reappear in the offspring; and that, too, under 
 conditions which preclude the possibility of an ideal 
 communication of them through the psychological 
 organization of the female parent, as in cases where 
 color of hair and other external characteristics, that 
 depend for their appreciation upon sight, are trans- 
 mitted where the mother is blind; and mental char- 
 acteristics, where the two parents are total strangers, 
 and never meet after the transmission of the germ 
 from the one to the other. 
 
 Under the view of Aristotle, which is but an ac- 
 curate expression of the result of the experiment in 
 hand, this germ, the spermatozoon, is the ideal em- 
 bodiment of the individual to be developed. It builds 
 and superintends the building of its own reality, its 
 physical body. It is before it exists. It selects, ap- 
 propriates and rejects the elements supplied by the 
 female organization, the nurse, in such proportion 
 and manner as it requires for its purpose, subjects 
 them to that purpose, and that purpose is itself — its 
 own existence as a reality. There is no mystery, 
 then, in the fact that well-defined individual charac- 
 teristics reappear in the offspring, notwithstanding 
 all physical avenues of transmission between parent 
 and child are closed, outside of the ideal resumation 
 of the individual, outside of the spermatozoon, the 
 germ itself. I was right then when I thought that 
 the need of nature is id'cality. To it she subjects 
 everything. But does she reach it? In life she 
 becomes internal, exists for herself. But still there 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 23 
 
 is externality present, even the germ, in the sphere 
 of life, is extant, spacial. Its ideality is not perfect; 
 this is reached alone in consciousness. Here the 
 shibboleth of nature— that no two objects shall oc- 
 cupy the same space at the same time — vanishes and 
 with it true ideality is born, true ideality, which com- 
 prehends all, time and space included, all together 
 and itself. 
 
 As such all it looks at itself in consciousness, is its 
 own mirror, and in the act of looking begets what 
 it looks at. What else is there to look at? The 
 all is the all. Whence does it come? It is the all; 
 for it there is no becoming. It itself is the becoming 
 out of ideality into reality, and out of reality into 
 ideality, as prefigured even by the oak and maple, 
 but realized only in the spirit of man. 
 
 June IS, 1856. 
 
 A pretty stiff pull. Commenced at four o'clock 
 this morning and by slow but steady work filled the 
 floor by half-past one. This gave me three-quarters 
 of an hour's rest before the iron was ready, and when 
 I shook out, without scrap, I forgot that I was tired, 
 for it is a four and a half-dollar job, as I told the 
 foreman, when I met him in the office — as he had 
 requested me to do, on Saturday evening. But when 
 he answered by handing me a check for one hundred 
 
 dollars, signed by Mr. F , the proprietor, for 
 
 services rendered the foreman in connection with 
 pattern inspection, as he expressed it, I fairly forgot 
 the hard day's work and honestly believe I could 
 have done it over again. 
 
 "I explained the whole thing," said the foreman, 
 
 "to Mr. F , and showed him the ingenious 
 
 manner in which you made the examination record 
 itself upon the pattern. He looked it over and re- 
 marked: 'This is a service that we can not accept 
 for nothing,' drew a check and asked me to hand it 
 to you, with his best wishes for your future success." 
 
 I thanked and told him that I had not thought 
 
 of any pay for the little trick. "But if Mr. F 
 
 finds it of value," I said, "it is not for me to depre- 
 ciate it, any more than to depreciate my work upon 
 the floor of the shop." 
 
 I then asked him permission to take one of the bad 
 patterns over to my room, as the thought had sug- 
 gested itself to me that I might perhaps find some 
 way of making them serviceable, with a very small 
 outlay. 
 
 "Certainly, Henry, I will send this one over, if 
 you like." 
 
 I told him I would prefer the No. 8 front, as be- 
 ing smaller, and would take it with me myself, so 
 as not to attract any unnecessary attention. 
 
 "Whichever you like," said he, "and if you succeed 
 you can make money out of it. But how is it possi- 
 ble to bring the pattern to a uniform thickness when 
 the thin spot is below the standard, and you can 
 not work the balance down without rendering the 
 whole pattern worthless?" 
 
 "From what little I know of chemistry, Mr. W , 
 
 I think it likely that I will be able to find a sub- 
 
 stance that can be applied in a fluid or semifluid 
 state, some such way as we apply paint, or varnish, 
 and that upon drying or hardening will possess all 
 the rigidity of iron itself. With such a substance 
 I will bring the thin spot up to the standard and the 
 plate to the uniform thickness required. I think I 
 will be able to do this in such a manner as to ren- 
 der the pattern serviceable and satisfactory." 
 
 "If you do, Henry, you keep the matter to your- 
 self. There is money in it, and you know every- 
 body is not as just and liberal as Mr. F . Most 
 
 men think it no wrong to avail themselves of the 
 products of another man's mind, without as much as 
 even a 'thank you,' when they would consider it 
 robbery to take the products of his labor without 
 pay." 
 
 I thanked him again and bade him good-night. 
 The truth is I am tired. The check and the success 
 with my new job on the floor have wiped the fatigue 
 from my mind;, but my sinews and muscles are tired 
 nevertheless. 
 
 June 16, 1856. 
 
 Put up my job with more ease, but it is a stiff 
 day's work yet; fully as much as even I care about 
 standing up to. Hired a man to cut my sand, in 
 order to get time to go up to the real estate office 
 to pay one of my notes. Got off three dollars for 
 cash and asked him how much he would take off the 
 other, the two-year note, if I paid it within a month 
 from today. He offered to take off six dollars, but 
 finally agreed to take off nine. If nothing happens 
 it will be paid within that time, for I learned today 
 
 from Mr. W that the shop will run until the 
 
 first day of August. I also paid Doc. Hall his 
 twenty-five dollars and am ahead of my obliga- 
 tions a full year. Had a talk with Mike about the 
 documents he promised me. He finds it difficult to 
 get hold of them — so he told me. 
 
 "No hurry, take your time," said I. Feel remark- 
 ably fresh tonight. It must be that sand cutting 
 which I shirkedi If the man does it well, I will hire 
 him by the week. I think it will pay. 
 
 In my reading I finished the annual review of 
 the "Illiad." How strange that every instance of 
 creative activity, whether of intellect or of will, is 
 regarded as divine by the poet. Not a resolution is 
 formed or plan of action is conceived but a god 
 steps in, either to suggest, approve or control. 
 This gives to the poem the air of having a double 
 action — of deriving its motive power from two 
 distinct sources, one human and the other divine. 
 No wonder the philosophers who lived after and 
 learned of Socrates that the creative power, so far 
 as it relates to human affairs, resides in man — that 
 man is this double in one, the creative and recep- 
 tive — the receptive by which he takes up the ex- 
 ternal within him, into his own ideality; the creative, 
 bodying forth that ideality, fraught with his pur- 
 pose, into reality — no wonder that these men should 
 stand antagonistic to Homer. This is especially the 
 
24 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 case with Plato, who excludes the book from his 
 "Republic," that is, rejects it as a source of culture. 
 But the "Republic" of Plato itself has remained 
 a dream, or rather was superseded by the culture 
 of man when it was written. For it is a perfect em- 
 bodiment of the then existing institutional life of 
 Greece, which had already given birth, in the con- 
 viction of Socrates, to the principle of individual 
 freedom, which was to supersede it upon the stage 
 of action. That Plato, as the immediate disciple of 
 Socrates, and the disciple, too, who elaborated the 
 conviction of the master out of its impure form — 
 that the demon is within man — into the clearness of 
 thought, up to the very objectivity of the idea itself 
 — that he should be antagonistic to the externality 
 of Homer is but natural. But that he failed to re- 
 cognize the perennial content in these poems can 
 only be attributed to the fact that he himself failed 
 of the self-determination of the idea — as Aristotle 
 charges — and failing of that he failed to recognize 
 the thought embodied because of the form. ^ 
 
 Alexander is reported as having carried the "II- 
 liad" with him in his expeditions, borne in a casket 
 richly jeweled. This high appreciation by the great 
 pupil of Aristotle, not disciple, but pupil, whose 
 whole character hadi been developed under the im- 
 mediate care of that philosopher, of a book rejected 
 by Plato, cannot be regarded as accidental, but finds 
 its explanation in the higher principle and the great- 
 er self-reliance to which thought had matured. With 
 self-determination as the ultimate principle of the 
 universe, thought has arrived at totality, and there- 
 fore at true objective internality, and not merely the 
 subjective internality that predicates concerning an 
 external. Thought is what is — the perennial, the 
 eternal, and every determination thereof embodies 
 or prefigures this, its nature. It is the internal for 
 which the external is evanescent. It plays with 
 form, for it itself is the substance, and the one sub- 
 stance in and of all forms. 
 
 Plato does not arrive at self-determination and 
 therefore fails of true internality. He arrives at 
 the idea by negation — all else is insufficient before 
 the tribunal within; but the law under which the 
 "all else" becomes is not revealed. He does battle 
 for the supremacy of this tribunal — all externality 
 is naught — but writes the "Republic," where this 
 tribunal is carefully closed to the public at large. 
 He starts with the supremacy of conviction and ends 
 with a state that rests upon the assumption that con- 
 viction is naught and external authority the only 
 salvation. He systematizes the externality of Homer 
 into a perfect state and exiles Homer from its juris- 
 diction. Himself master of poetic form, with a dis- 
 tinct consciousness of its relativity, he fails to gen- 
 eralize this knowledge beyond his own case, takes 
 the language of the imagination for the language 
 of thought, and finds that the poet speaks unbecom- 
 ingly of the Divine. 
 
 If the poet says that Jupiter sent a lying dream 
 or vision to Agamemnon to induce that general to 
 
 go to battle, that makes Jupiter the author of a lie, 
 and of all the slaughter that follows, provided we 
 take this poetic statement for literal prose. But if 
 we realize for ourselves the condition of the army, 
 and see the commander-in-chief in the dilemma into 
 which his own conduct had betrayed him — either to 
 fight, or see his army destroyed by dry rot — and then 
 say that his ambition to maintain himself in his posi- 
 tion as commander-in-chief, without laying aside the 
 petty tyrant, led him to the fatal conclusion to fight 
 in order to divert the minds of the army from his 
 own misconduct — there is nothing objectionable in 
 the statement, and yet sovereign power, supreme au- 
 thority and the lust for it, was the inspirer of the 
 lie — that he could conquer with a disorganized, 
 dispirited army, whose best fighters were sulking in 
 their tents — and that is all the poet says, but he 
 says it as a poet. 
 
 Again, if we listen to Juno, when she reproaches 
 her high spouse with conduct derogatory to her — 
 to her, high born no less than himself — sister and 
 spouse of the highest, who has swept Greece from 
 side to side, her steeds foaming with lathers of 
 sweat, to gather this army together, in order to 
 wreak vengeance upon the polygamous wretches, the 
 polluters, the very robbers of the sacred hearth — the 
 family hearth, her own one specially in this uni- 
 verse — the scene may fail to inspire us at first glance 
 with that divine harmony, so fondly dreamed of, as 
 prevailing in the upper spheres. But if we subpoena 
 the fact before us that we have here the two institu- 
 tions, supreme authority, sovereignty and the family 
 face to face, that the latter claims co-ordinate rank, 
 both by virtue of origin and by virtue of the function 
 which it performs — the army is her product, pre- 
 ordinate or subordinate; then, if we arrive at the 
 conclusion that after all, however important the 
 family and its claim of co-ordinate rank may be, it is 
 obvious that before it can wreak vengeance upon its 
 desecrators, obtain assured existence for itself in 
 this world of reality, it must have not merely a 
 crowd to swear allegiance to it, but the crowd must 
 be organized into an army, and that requires a 
 commander, a true sovereign man, in fact, and not 
 a petty tyrant, who mistakes caprice, his particular 
 will and purpose, for the general will and purpose, 
 we see that we made a mistake, in fact — misled 
 no doubt by the grace of the pleader, the splendor 
 of the eye, etc. — when we assented to the proposi- 
 tion that she produced the army. She, Juno, the 
 family produced the crowd, the many, and there her 
 function ended. To transform that crowd into an 
 army requires a general purpose, not merely in an 
 inchoate, vague, unconscious form, that may or may 
 not be present in the mindis of the crowd, but in an 
 out-spoken, clear, definite embodiment in a will that 
 wills it, not itself, but it, this general purpose. From 
 this new center the organization proceeds that trans- 
 forms the crowd into an army, and this once in hand, 
 let desecrators beware. Let the desecrators of the 
 family hearth beware; not merely of the family 
 hearth, but any and all desecrators, of hearth, field. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 25 
 
 meadow, barn, stable and corncrib — the family 
 hearth, with all that maintains its sacred fires. Let 
 them beware; their Hectors shall bite the dust. 
 
 I say if we come to this conclusion, the poet does 
 no more. We only translate his poetry into our 
 prose, his Olympus into our homesteads, with Mer- 
 cury and every attendant bodily present. Nay, my 
 very craft, with its soot and grime hastily wiped 
 away — see, was it not there, a little awkward to be 
 sure, but of the company of the immortals? And has 
 it not proved this its immortality up to date? 
 
 Of course, in the Platonic "Republic," where there 
 is neither husband nor wife, neither parent nor child, 
 there is no family hearth, no craft to feed its sacred 
 fires. There no debate can arise such as Homer saw 
 and form such a republic; he is rightly exiled. What 
 could such a republic learn from Homer, or from 
 any one? It was perfect, lacking only one thing — 
 inhabitants! But a republic without inhabitants 
 needs no book. 
 
 With Homer the poet, the inner, the ideality, de- 
 termines itself. What then? Through this determi- 
 nation the internal becomes external, the pure ideali- 
 ty reality. But this reality is itself ideal, and exter- 
 nality of form merely. It dwells on Olympus — the 
 middle region, conceptive thought — midway between 
 the pure ideality of thought and the world of reality. 
 To reach the latter its externality must be reintern- 
 alized into the pure ideality of thought, and through 
 it be born again before it obtains the reality which 
 we call family and state. The first determination 
 of ideality we name imagination, fancy, and the 
 like — the creative Muse of the poet, not the con- 
 scious man. The second is reason, self-conscious in- 
 telligence, which reinternalizes the external, com- 
 prehends the process and thus co-ordinates and sub- 
 ordinates the parts of the whole into members of 
 an articulate totality. The first birth is with the 
 poet; the second, with the man of thought and 
 action. This is the process which eventuates in a 
 world of mediation and implements, through which 
 the individual becomes general, individuality be- 
 comes universality without ceasing to be individual. 
 It was the becoming of this world of mediation that 
 Homer saw and sang; and for man no higher song 
 can be sung. Jupiter and Juno have passed away, 
 but authority supreme, the head of the state, and 
 motherhood, the head of the family, remain and 
 will remain as long as Plato's "Republic" remains 
 without inhabitants. They remain and today hold 
 in the hollow of their hands the resources of the 
 human race. 
 
 June 17, 1856. 
 
 My job went on nicely — but somehow I could not 
 get rid of Homer. Vulcan, maker of implements, 
 was with me all day, until he was suppressed by the 
 apparition of a man — Mr. Jochen Hanse-Peter, who 
 used to work for my father when I was a boy at 
 home. Some ten years ago I sent him a ticket that 
 brought him across the Atlantic; but I had neither 
 met nor heard from him since he landed upon these 
 
 shores. He had learned recently from one of my 
 shop-mates, whom it appears he furnishes with pota- 
 toes and other farm products, that a man of my 
 name worked in the foundry, and came to see wheth- 
 er I was the very man whom he had expected 
 to greet before any other when he landed in a 
 strange country, or whether his disappointment, 
 still remarkably vivid before his mind, was to con- 
 tinue indefinitely. 
 
 After he had looked at me for some time from the 
 end of the floor with great attentiveness he turned 
 away, but was startled, almost beyond self-control, 
 when he heard my voice calling him by name. He 
 turned back, rushed up to me andi stood shaking my 
 hand without uttering a word. Finally he said: 
 "Henry, is this you or is it not?" 
 
 I told him: "Yes, Jochen, it is I; but I have 
 grown from a boy to a man, while you have remain- 
 ed as you were when you carried my bundle for me 
 a whole day and half a night's journey on my way 
 to Bremen, when I left home." 
 
 He then explained what it was that startled him 
 so on hearing my voice. 
 
 'T recognized it as your father's voice, Henry, 
 and I knew that he is dead, and that affected me a 
 kind of queerly." 
 
 Well, we had a happy half hour, but of course I 
 had to break off to get through with my job. He 
 left and returned at five o'clock, as I told him I 
 would be through with my day's work by that time. 
 He then came up with me to my room. When we got 
 here he handed out a handful of money, put it on the 
 table and told me to pay myself for the ticket which 
 I sent him ten years ago. After quarreling for an 
 hour or so over the amount due me, he resigned him- 
 self to the payment of fifty dollars, the principal, 
 with six per cent simple interest. According to his 
 idea it would not have been out of the way if I had 
 taken half of his farm. 
 
 "Didn't I make it all because you helped me? 
 What would I have had now at home— not that? 
 (Passing his open right hand over the open palm of 
 his left, with a quick outward motion.) 
 
 "What would, what could I have had? Not that! 
 Andi today I have my four horses; yes, and two stal- 
 lions at that, in my own stable, with plenty of land 
 to work them on. I have cows, hogs, sheep, goats, 
 geese, turkeys, chickens, ducks — my own house, 
 home and farm, and all paid for. No, Henry, you 
 must let me do something, too!" 
 
 And so it went. 
 
 "What would Feeka say if I didn't do something. 
 She knows it. She never saw you, but she knows. 
 I told her. A hundred times we have talked about 
 it. If we could just see you once at our home; to 
 show you our boy, that we had| christened Henry 
 Conrad, after you; and our little girl, whom we had 
 christened Henrietta, because they told me that is 
 the she for Henry." 
 
 To stop him I promised to come and see him at his 
 home. 
 
26 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "I only live a cat's jump from town," he broke out 
 anew, "over in the bottom. I come into town in the 
 morning with my load, and after I have sold out I 
 am home again at night. You see I married Dues- 
 tering's Feeken eight years ago, coming fourth of 
 July. She had some land from her father and I had 
 the work in me to make the land into a farm. 
 Then I bought a piece that lay along side, and 
 there is another forty adjoining that looks mighty 
 handy. But then, unhatched chickens require no 
 coop — as your father used to say. 'Tis time enough 
 to holler big red apples when you have them in your 
 basket, as he used to say." 
 
 And so it poured, a gushing stream, and would 
 have kept on until morning, but the fatigues of the 
 day became master of the situation, in spite of the 
 fluency of friend Jochen. 
 
 June l8, 1856. 
 
 The trick of hiring my sand cut at night has a 
 remarkable effect upon the feeling of exhaustion that 
 used to plague me for an hour or two after my day's 
 work was done. I am as fresh almost in the even- 
 ing as I was in the morning. The twenty-five cents 
 a (lay, or one dollar and a half a week, is well spent, 
 or rather not earned. The man does it as over- 
 work. He is what they call a "bugger-lugger" 
 around the shop; collects scraps, keeps the gang- 
 ways clean, swept, sprinkled, brings flasks, follows 
 boards, or clamps to the floors and does such like 
 jobs, for which he gets paid by the week. After 
 the bell rings at 6 p. m. his time is his own and he 
 uses it to increase his earnings. He does his work 
 well, and it is a greater relief to me than the amount 
 of labor involved would indicate. But I suppose it 
 acts something like the last straw in the camel 
 story. 
 
 Received a letter from Mr. Mcintosh today and 
 answered him that the shop will shut down on 
 August I. Had another call from Jochen. He has 
 discovered that I can go home with him at night on 
 his wagon and come back in the morning in the 
 same way, without expense or loss of time. 
 
 "You see, I leave home in the morning with cock- 
 crow and am on the ferry with the first peep of day. 
 It gives me a much better chance to sell and more 
 time to make bargains. Feeka sends her best re- 
 gards and said I must tell you to come, and Henry 
 and Henrietta told me to bring uncle home. Now 
 you get ready, sonny, and I will call around with the 
 wagon by s o'clock." 
 
 I begged off until tomorrow evening. 
 
 June 19, 1856. 
 
 After changing my clothes I found Jochen at the 
 door with his wagon, prompt as clock-work. He 
 expressed surprise at the change in my appearance. 
 
 "Now, sonny, that is something like! That is the 
 way I expected to see you look all the time. Con- 
 found that soot-hole. Well, well, clothes make the 
 man! Ha, Feeka will make eyes when we get home." 
 
 And so he ran on until we reached the other side 
 of the river. This we d';d on a powerful ferry-boat. 
 
 that carried some thirty or forty other teams — a 
 string that reached a quarter of a mile ahead of us, 
 on the other side, apparently. As we passed a saloon 
 he said: 
 
 "See, sonny! Yes, of right I ought to treat, but, 
 I don't know. You see, I promised Feeka that I 
 will never go inside of one of those places. But if 
 you will go in and order what you want and let 
 them bring it out here, we will take a good stiff horn 
 — ^just because I feel like it." 
 
 I explained to him that I approved of his wife's 
 advice; that I never went into a place of that kind 
 myself unless it was on some other business than to 
 take a drink, 
 
 "You are not one of them temperance fellows, are 
 you, Henry?" 
 
 "Of course not, Jochen. I eat andi drink what and 
 when I please, of such food and drink as I find by 
 experience agrees with me and that I can afford. 
 But it happens that I never feel better than when I 
 am perfectly at myself, when I have my whole mind 
 about me, and liquor of any kind seems to inter- 
 fere with that. I can find no use for it in my own 
 case; with others it may be different; and so I at- 
 tend to my own appetite." 
 
 So we did not stop, but kept on at a brisk trot, 
 and soon got beyond, the last houses of the village, 
 called East St. Louis. When we had got quite be- 
 yond it, we struck the Eastern shore of a lake which 
 was covered with a fringe of willows, a brash or 
 brittle kind, not of any use for wicker work; but 
 their green foliage gave the smooth water, which 
 now and then gleamed through some openings, a 
 very inviting appearance. We had not driven over 
 fifteen minutes, our course almost due North, when 
 we came to some scattering houses, straggling along 
 the road, which make up, as he told me, the Canteen 
 Village. And, sure enough, almost every house was 
 a canteen, or a place where such might be filled. I 
 counted at least three of them in less than so many 
 miles drive, strung along the road. There was a 
 "Three-mile House," a "Four-mile House," a "Five- 
 mile House," all of which we passed, and ahead 01 
 us was another, the "Six-mile House." It is an old 
 French settlement. Each house has an acre or two 
 of ground attached, cultivated in garden truck, as 
 garden products are called, by the women folks, 
 while the men are employed chiefly in fishing and 
 hunting. I thought I observed a difference between 
 the physical appearance of the men and the women. 
 Such as I saw of the latter were robust, healthy, and 
 many of them advanced in years — one very old; 
 while the former were of inferior stature, of sallow 
 complexion, with a dried up appearance — old beyond 
 their years. I asked Jochen about it, but he only 
 knew that it was the general belief in his settlement 
 that French women never die and that the men do. 
 He was of the opinion that it was because the men 
 lived mostly on frogs in the summer time. 
 
 "And it stands to reason," said he, "that men who 
 lay around the sloughs all night and live on the 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 27 
 
 sloughsquakers in the daj'-time can't be healthy!" 
 
 The question is of interest. These people are the 
 oldest white inhabitants of the valley; they are al- 
 most acclimated. The present is the fifth or sixth 
 generation, if not the seventh or eighth. They may 
 be regarded as the product of the climate, and there 
 is certainly a very large proportion of old, very old 
 people here, to the aggregate of population. Then 
 the difference between the sexes — should this be at- 
 tributable perhaps to the difference of occupation, 
 the different degrees of intensity of the camp air to 
 which the two sexes are exposed? 
 
 While reflecting on this and putting it by for 
 future examination, we had turned at right angles 
 to our first course and were in sight of a great num- 
 ber of mounds, Indian mounds, as they are called; 
 but when we came near to what is known as Big 
 Cahokia or Monks' Mound — the latter from the fact 
 that the monks of Cahokia at one time took posses- 
 sion and built a house on the top of it — the general 
 name "Indian Mounds," for these remains, began to 
 look suspicious. To attribute a work of the dimen- 
 sions of the big mound — it is nine hundred feet 
 square, ninety-seven feet high, with an area of seven 
 acres "of the best land in the world" on the 
 top — according to Jochen — to attribute such a 
 work to a people who "roam the forest and prairie 
 and live by the chase," as we are told, of the Indian, 
 is, to say the least, very thoughtless. Where is the 
 industry, necessarily implied in such a work, to be 
 found among such people? Where the motive to 
 combine hundreds and thousands for its execution? 
 Nor does it stand alone, 
 
 "There are fifty-two that you can count, in sight, 
 when you sit on the top of the big fellow and look 
 South, some of them almost as large as that one 
 itself, and many more scattered to the East, West 
 and North, that I have never counted. My house 
 stands on one of them," said Jochen. 
 
 And in fact we passed them on every hand; some, 
 of little elevations were gloughed over; others serve 
 as building sites for houses, and still others were 
 planted with fruit trees. In the meantime, we again 
 turned into our former course, crossed a small creek, 
 upon a substantial bridge, which Jochen told me he 
 had built himself, and, after pulling up a sharp rise, 
 he said, his face beaming with satisfaction: 
 
 "That is my house!" 
 
 Sure enough, there were Henry and Henrietta, 
 tumbling from the terrace down the steps, in hot 
 haste, their flaxen hair streaming out, each to reach 
 the gate first, to open it for "Pa-pa." And when 
 we drove up, Henrietta preferred her complaint that 
 Henry ran too f-st and beat her, because she was 
 little — but as her blue eyes alighted on mine they 
 seemed to grow larger, and she hid them with her 
 whole face in her father's rough beard, as he stooped 
 down to kiss her. Then she twined her little arms 
 around his neck and clung to him, while Henry had al- 
 ready got hold of the lines. After I got down, the boy, a 
 lad of seven years, started the team and drove off 
 
 while his father and I entered through the gate, 
 opened by the children, the front yard very neatly 
 set with blue-grass. A short distance from the gate 
 we ascended a terrace, in the center of which the 
 house stood, by neat stone steps, six in number; 
 walked across a strip of green sward, some twenty 
 feet wide, and stepped on the porch. Here we were 
 met by the lady of the house, who greeted Jochen, 
 to whom Henrietta was still clinging, with "Good 
 evening, Jochen! Have you got back?" "Yes Feeka, 
 God be thanked; and see, I brought you Henry! See, 
 that is Henry!" 
 
 The lady gave me her hand, and with a kindly 
 voice said: 
 
 "I am very glad you have come to see us. My 
 husband has told me so much about you, and when 
 he found you the other day, he came home so hap- 
 py! Come in! He has hardly slept since, and what 
 is worse, he wouldn't let anybody else sleep," she 
 said, with a kind of good-natured look of half re- 
 proach at Jochen. 
 
 "Come in and take a seat," she added, showing us 
 to a couple of large split-bottom arm-chairs that 
 stood upon the inner porch, as the space may be call- 
 ed, that separates the two" rooms, of which the old 
 double log cabin, of frontier design, consists — where 
 I found a friendly breeze. The house faces South, 
 a two-story frame, or rather a two-story double 
 log cabin, the outside of which has been covered with 
 weather boards and the inside with ceiling plank, the 
 whole painted white, doors, casings, windows, frames 
 and sash green. A roomy porch extends around the 
 entire front of the house and makes it a very com- 
 fortable, if not showy home, for both winter and 
 summer, for the northern side of the open space be- 
 tween the two lower rooms, called the inner porch, is 
 boarded with a large door in the center, which being 
 opened in the summer, admits a free draft of air, and 
 shut in winter, it excludes the cold. 
 
 We hardly had been seated long enough for Hen- 
 rietta to explore papa's pockets for possible trinkets, 
 or bits of candies, and I had just made the discovery 
 of a doll that had strayed into a small bundle, which 
 I found on the seat of the wagon, when Jochen was 
 up and insisted on showing me something of his farm 
 before it got dark, as we would not be able to see it 
 in the morning We started out into the open even- 
 ing air and I confess, the transition from city to 
 country has something exhilarating, even enticing, 
 especially on a June evening, with nature at her best. 
 Every blade of grass, leaf, twig, flower, instinct with 
 life, yet so silent; while the air is filled with a full 
 chorus of hum of insects and song of birds; even the 
 slough, sluggish and unclean, bursts into vocal 
 strains, with the deep base of the bull frog. 
 
 "You hear him?" queried Jochen. "That is our 
 swamp angel. He isn't much on the wing, but on the 
 jump he heats the horse, size for size." 
 
 After ascending an elevated spot, the remains of a 
 mound, he pointed out to me the general boundary 
 line and the advantageous location of the farm. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIAKY. 
 
 *It is entat^ above overitew," said h«- ~vc- ::-.e 
 Aood of '44, ik« kigitest known, ouJy o.->Ttrcd i-oire 
 tea »CT«s of aoijr BMaxlow, <3ova scmd'er, aiams the 
 cr««k; ajai tStait. Hesary, ]m«Mis a S'ocxl «l«<al Yon $««, 
 it is in tb« y«ars of lii:;^^ vatcr thit I ouiiM moacy. 
 Yen know wltat your fir- -->-: 'If y>o« 
 
 kiT« soaBMidusig it is worth f vioa iMTie 
 
 wMduos it is woftit somcthua^.' Sc^e. ^ '£attii« 
 
 r«st istkk ia tli« mnil and wajter, cr - &mbs. 
 
 and can nis« addun^ I Ihstv the surket to vys«!i^ 
 
 and idot is tiie tiane T — -• - --:- ■■-- Y'oo jnst 
 
 «iS^ *o s«« how t . . J $«t OT«r 
 
 tlww;,'' poimdag to dt. " -y 
 
 don\ wale* i*<« <!™!»*: ;.t 
 
 Stv - . s, 
 
 I s.- . year cJosie on to :- -s 
 
 ."iWxs — Miorp3Bys, »^ - 
 - -^ Tint was tli« : 
 ■feiicr, - " - - - 
 
 »*»;< T-.- . 
 
 - i ex- 
 
 ;. ^ - , ,, -.- _i:^ ---^". ~ i-e-1 is 
 
 I asm getting for my tarlies. Yoa see, 1 vm stiE get- 
 ta^ a 4&>13ar and a ^inaiter » basb^ That pays. I 
 win bal ia six Imadined tAoIbrs wiaith tikis atonCli; 
 X Bicffla titsQift tne ibme I b<^an antol Idte • *- ^— ^ f tinKC in 
 Jaly; awl tint is Caor ior one teonL" 
 
 I saw titat tike £ann occnpied idw eastera slxve of 
 a take, or nutiher a point of laumd between it aard a 
 creek, tiut oooms £ron a point or two Konb of Eist, 
 and discbatscs iato Dk laktt. Tbe &rm bas the ad- 
 
 'vaiUase of idte innmediaite sbture of tbe oreek oa tihe 
 Sontb, and what fomerty was idhe East ^Mwe of tlte 
 riTXT en lOie West; boA of wbscb. a;s is asaal wiab 
 saOt-^MairiiB^ stieaimiSH axe comssdembly higher iSsam the 
 Sauawl ianber back. I asked biggt bow naay acnes 
 be «aitlli«ated in ptMatoes. 
 
 "In daat idd Itkeire are ifilT'-seven aetes," said be. 
 ''It (S way naaak e t iidid. Then I baT« a palKb of some 
 
 iwesiuijsfiitie acres or mioite, wbeste I raise what I tase 
 at beame and what I keep Soir seed. Yon see oxer 
 
 '^"on nean tbat Imffian HMsnad?" 
 
 "^"es; tbat is gay ceJIbr. Soaae years a^o a set of 
 
 fcDows fronft tjcwn cunne aavd wasited to dii;g nmto tl&e 
 thoag, and I told tbsaa tb<y amssht dis and be wel- 
 coate if tbey dnig as I wantied dfeent to. They agreed 
 ami I made idMon d% aae a (ceOlair, Of eonmnse;, scmay, 
 tibey dad not kstow wbat I was after; bat as soon as 
 tdkey bad dn^ clean thiroiii!^ tine iiM a liidle 'big egnoia^ 
 to walk tbiKooisSiL, aond t&ey g'ot tsred. I set it<(9 woik 
 ^^ say men and tennas, buoaSed t}[te eirx^ do^na iato 
 a low pflace ia my naeadow — .for it is g'/ ' — 
 
 made the hole rammd and as Isi^re is I ^' .a 
 
 ibe SBSvAc;, bomrded it sip, pot a •dl uuiiaiKy ianto xt tr^oa 
 tbe top, and bave as £ne a eefOar as amy ycm ic-ooM 
 nnaibe iai Ais wwt, level gutmuud. It beejis jnay se«d 
 potatKies. iboee fiar asy own ase and tbose w^oadt I 
 have for sale antil fprnag, any gai r fe n track and irnk 
 
 cc-i-i: -.he -.v-.rtfr. :-i :r. the siirinier Ttsy wife ttses it 
 :cr hsr m.Jc i"d bu::er." 
 
 By this time the wxgoa cane past from the field. 
 loaded for nkonting, and w« retumesi to the hoose. 
 wfacie we Joond sapper oa the tible. A meil of 
 sobstant-..' batna. cared as oialy a WestpJajt- 
 
 bager kr. • to core ham. This was frie>i 
 
 Potatoes boiled widk the skins oa; a dish of ooioas, 
 cona bread. li^bt bread, batter nailk. both fresh arnd 
 soar, sweet mi3k aad cofiee. 
 
 "Yob B»y help y««-- : Mrs. Hiase-Peter, 
 
 wboi I had seated m> - .r ?-ic. ss d'-r-tt-d 
 
 "It is the ooetom ia this c.~ : 
 
 op widb what we have. Y'c- .»... .. ..-. . ;. ...u; 
 
 comes xroamd bat once a year, sik! tikat is the ooly 
 time we haT« a cbaace to see the batcher. It is not 
 like it is ia town." 
 
 I told her tliat I dtonsht dte dalereace in the sab- 
 soffltial com.foirts a person had ia towa or coostry 
 'TIS not as gmt as was nsoalty sapposed. 
 
 "If tbe coantry has not tbe fresb meats of the 
 town, neitbu- has tite towa the pome milk, fresh blat- 
 ter, feesb eg^s. fresh Timetables aad fruits of the 
 coantry. And after alL what are all these, w^t is 
 all that towa and conratry caa alSiard bat the raw cta- 
 terial of a mieaf 
 
 *Hang«- is tbe best cook, as tbe sayiag is." broke 
 ia JocboBL "^ake some of this." and he heljxd me to 
 a portioa of corn bread, which I foaatd of e^ccellest 
 fiavor. I asked Mrs. Haase-Peier bow it is prepar- 
 ed. 
 
 "Tt s made with scwcr ■mnVt- " ^^ said. '°^iwi a Kt- 
 tle soda, jest esnoc;^ to take up tbe soar taste of tie 
 imfl k; aad I pat ia as osaay egs^ as are hasdy.'' 
 
 "That's it, Heary, that's at I caa always trfl the 
 price of eggs in towa by the color of tie bread on 
 nay table.'" said Jochem. "If eggrs are fixe cents or 
 less a doaen, onr bread looks yejOciw and tastes mce. 
 a kaand of Jancy. n^ lake. Baat when eg:^^ 30 ap to 
 ten cents., the bread begins tso look fole awi tasies as 
 if they bad for^ottea to take idie bran oat of tbe 
 naeal; astd they go high'cr stilL aboot Oarisaaas tmae. 
 F*Aai forgets to pat aaay :- ■ -rd'css i shoaJd 
 
 bapipeja to cnck sonaae ia . ^ _ :>eaa froaaa the 
 bara." The latter part of the reinark was aaade 
 while OBae of his eyes gaxe a pecaliar waaik. 
 
 "Yon see, Heamry, Feefca has a way of fnyiaay her 
 owa bolls, ber own stoine baHs, I asear . :. 
 
 clothes aaad tie Kke, Sbe sells eggs aaa^ . _ r 
 
 SHjouud, and her tau'keT'g^ ge^se. diacks aoMt chackems at 
 Cbra:9tanas tsme. ^le always loakes me p«t ia ai-ore 
 com than 1 waaat fca. lis the corm crib she m-Jifcs ' 
 
 I told boBSi that I tioo^^t tx ^ - 
 
 ^T TTT ^nn ^ i i f ^ H H » '*w»' f^st it C*0"5l^ aOt fl 
 
 OBBy OB '" - " rrose. aaod wx3BL.d aot b>e 
 
 WTOflcait > chaldirett, boidh by tra-Es- 
 
 asBssi'oa ^^l1^^g early traaanans^ 
 "As Cor thj. " " tiiey owa baM tbe cc ■■ - 
 
 tie place now . _ . -.-.etts lus a caff or two : 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 own, too; and as for the ducks and the chickens, 
 they belong to them entirely," said Jochen. 
 
 June 10, 1856, 
 
 Supper done, Jochen soon was ready to show me 
 to my room. I turned to say 'good night' to Mrs. 
 Hanse-Peter, but she went with us upstairs and 
 when we entered the room, told me that I must con- 
 sider it as my own. It is the West one and from the 
 window one can see the whole extent of the lake. 
 
 "You must consider it as your own, Mr. B . 
 
 I will keep it for you, and you must come out with 
 my husband right often and spend Sundays with us. 
 There is good fishing there," pointing to the lake, 
 "at this season of the year, and good hunting in the 
 winter. Jochen says that you used to be very fond 
 of hunting and fishing when you were at home, and 
 you must come out and enjoy it right often," said 
 Mrs. Hanse-Peter. 
 
 I promised and bade her 'good night,' but Jochen 
 stayed with me for some time. He struck a new 
 theme, the whereabouts of our neighbors from the 
 old country, who have come here and settled in what 
 are now the counties of Madison, St. Clair, Monroe 
 and Randolph. As he had kept himself fully in- 
 formed of where each one of them lives, of the 
 births, deaths and marriages, that have occurred 
 among them, especially the degree of prosperity at- 
 tained by each, the thing threatened to become end- 
 less. ,^ 
 
 "They are all well-to-do and some are getting rich; 
 and there is not one of them but what inquires after 
 you every time they meet me; because it was your 
 letter that brought them here." 
 
 "What letter, Jochen?" 
 
 "The letter you wrote to me when you sent that 
 ticket. You know, a good many of our people had 
 gone to Indiana, and all of us that wanted to come 
 to America would have gone there, as that was the 
 only place that we had heard of. But in that letter 
 you said that the country in Illinois, around St. 
 Louis, was fully as good as far as the land was 
 concerned; and better for a poor man to get a 
 start in, because it was not covered with such thick 
 woods, to be cleared off, as much of it was prairie; 
 and that the climate was milder and wages for labor- 
 ing men better. That is what brought us here, and 
 we have heard from our preachers that have been 
 in Indiana that you were right. That country is 
 not as good as this and the people there, our old 
 neighbors, that settled there are not as well off as 
 we are." 
 
 But the theme was endless and I had to remind 
 him that we ought to get some sleep, a hint which 
 he took in perfectly good part and bade me "good 
 night." 
 
 June 20, 1856. 
 
 This morning before the break of day I heard the 
 rattling of trace chains under my window and on 
 looking out into the clear star-light night, I saw 
 that the horses were being hitched up to the wagon. 
 A moment later and heavy steps came up the stairs 
 
 to my door. Jochen called and was stirprised to 
 find me up. At the foot of the stairs we were met 
 by Xfrs. H.-P., who handed us a cop of coffee, with 
 the remark that she did not like for Jochen to go 
 into the night air with an empty stomach. A few 
 minutes more and we were in our seats. I found 
 the coffee to have ((uite an agreeable effect; the air 
 was cool and a blanket wrapped around our knees 
 was comfortable. The low temperature in this 
 neighborhood at night must be due to the strong 
 evaporation that takes place, and is always present, 
 I have observed it in localities deemed unhealthy on 
 account of malaria. During our drive in, I caught 
 Jochen more than once nodding, but the horses 
 seemed to understand the situation. They knew 
 every crook and turn in the road to be met, and 
 every deep rut to be avoided. They plodded along at 
 a steady, even pace and in an hour we had reached 
 the first houses of East St. Louis, with Jochen wide 
 awake. With fair daylight we reached the ferry in 
 time for the first boat, and in three-fiuarters of an 
 hour more I bade Jochen 'good-bye' at his usual 
 place in the market. I went to breakfast and was in 
 the shop in good time to put up my job without 
 much inconvenience on account of the trip. 
 
 It was a pleasant one, but has awakened within 
 me a world which I supposed had vanished forever. 
 What a marvelous existence — I dare not say "thing" 
 — is the mind of man! N'ow a blank and now a 
 magic scroll! Now obscure and now all radiance! 
 Now vacancy and now replete with facts, emotions, 
 thoughts! Its length does not lengthen, its breadth 
 broaden, its thickness thicken with addition or 
 acquisition. It is a point without length, breadth 
 or thickness; a point that the waves of all the seas 
 can not cover and the continents of the earth fail 
 to crowd. It is a point infinitely penetrating, itself 
 impenetrable utterly. It gives forth its treasnrea, 
 but does not diminish itself or its stores. All its 
 possessions it keeps, in endless duplicates — inex- 
 haustible. With free storage for every fact, it is 
 not without its registry, nor does it fail to sort like 
 with like. With great show of interest for some- 
 thing new, it only seeks itself — the reason for it! 
 
 June 21, 1836. 
 
 Dined with Miss Elizabeth. Told her of my good 
 fortune, that put it in my power to pay my first note 
 on Tuesday last; of the discovery of Jochen, or 
 rather the being discovered by him, with the col- 
 lection made, which together with my week's earn- 
 ings set me free of debt 
 
 "I will pay the last note on Tuesday next, and 
 the question is, what then? Shall I buy the ad- 
 joining fifty feet, or shall I buy where I can build 
 and be my own landlord?" 
 
 I explained to her the advantage that would accrue 
 from owning the adjoining lots, and also my plan of 
 building me a home, as soon as possible. She re- 
 marked: 
 
 "It seems to me yon ought to finish what you 
 have commenced, first, and then start something 
 
/ 
 
 30 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 else. The lot for your house you have not as yet 
 even selected, and you can buy at any time; but the 
 lots adjoining your property, which have more 
 value to you than to anybody else, may be held 
 higher for that reason if you allow the option to 
 expire without buying." 
 
 I appreciated her reasoning andi told her that the 
 question did not press for immediate decision, as the 
 option has still over sixty days to run. I then 
 related to her my trip to the country and how en- 
 joyable the change was. This brought up our Fourth 
 of July excursion and she suggested that it might 
 be a nice thing to get permission from Mr. H.-P. to 
 spend the day on his place, upon the banks of the 
 lake, which I had described to her. I assured her 
 there would be no difficulty about that; to make all 
 her arrangements upon the assumption that we had 
 that permission already. 
 
 Got back to my room earlier than usual. Vulcan 
 has been with me during all this turmoil of wild 
 recollections. Vulcan, the legitimate offspring of 
 Jupiter and Juno! No bastard, he! Of course, as 
 legitimate son of the family, it is quite natural that 
 he should side with the family in any question that 
 might arise between it and supreme authority, the 
 state. It was, however, no less natural that he 
 should get a lesson — the hobbling gait, the limping 
 foot ought to be reminders, safe-guards against mis- 
 takes of that kind occuring in the future. This is 
 important. It is likewise important that he is im- 
 mortal. Yes, this craft of mine, the making of im- 
 plements, is not of yesterday. Its origin is cele- 
 brated in song and story from the beginning. It is 
 immortal and I participate in it. But I received it 
 from without. True, I did, but man did not. Man 
 created it from within. I am a molder because I 
 am a man, not a man because I am a molder. Man 
 created this craft. The abiding comes from the 
 abiding, and on Caucasus' beetling cliff, the proud 
 Titan, man, refuses submission — refuses to surrender 
 his conviction of freedom, to be wrought out by his 
 own craft. Let the thunders bellow, winds howl, 
 the elements of nature rave; nay, gorge your fill, 
 ye powers of the air, if you will, upon his very 
 vitals! Your supremacy is not the eternal. The 
 eternal is within! Your supremacy is the evanescent, 
 andp Jupiter, so far as he claims to be such, the child 
 of a day! Man is the creator of his own imple- 
 ments. Creator, not merely maker! I am a maker 
 of skillets, but the father of the idea originated what 
 was not; he, the originator, creator of the idea, of 
 the ideal that was not; I, the maker of that into 
 reality. Man is both the creator and maker of his 
 implements, from the griddles, skillets and pots to 
 the mighty engine across the way, that scissors 
 plates of steel like ribbons, and punches them with 
 holes as if they were but putty. 
 
 Man is the Titan prime evil, antedating the dynasty 
 of Jupiter, and disputing its claim to supreme authori- 
 ty. He is not born of the family, but the family of 
 him. Authority supreme is of him; not he of it; 
 
 man, the creator of his world of implements and 
 institutions. 
 
 June 22, 1856. 
 
 Had a very pleasant day. Put up my job with- 
 out friction, and find myself in excellent working 
 trim — I mean mentally — on my return to my room. 
 Had a long talk with Mike and Jake about the 
 Molders' Union, but failed to get the constitution 
 and by-laws of the order, and of course know noth- 
 ing about it, as to its purposes, and whether it is 
 likely to help or to hinder. It looks to me as likely 
 that an institution of that kind, incorporated as an 
 integral member of the political organization of the 
 country, might be of great service; but whether this 
 is possible now, or even desirable, is a question the 
 answer to which requires more detailed information 
 as regards the development of the country than I 
 possess. This much, however, is obvious — that mere 
 abstract areas, or abstract numbers, or even both 
 combined, cannot be the lasting basis of representa- 
 tion in the deliberative bodies, where the different 
 interests of the nation at large are mediated with 
 and through each other. This system of representa- 
 tion was, no doubt, suggested and rendered neces- 
 sary even at the time when the overshadowing in- 
 terest, the task we might say, before the nation was 
 to subdue the wilderness, to penetrate and permeate 
 it with the first outlines of civilization, the public 
 highways, the bridges, etc., which made the distri- 
 bution of energy, of population, possible. But to 
 regard it as a finality, when, the first rude labors 
 done, the nation develops all the functions of modern 
 civilization, for which its dominion presents the fit- 
 ting arena, and the various interests become con- 
 scious with and of their strength, would be no doubt 
 an error. 
 
 These outside organizations are premonitory. 
 They indicate that there are interests, desires and 
 purposes shared and entertained by many which are 
 not in fact, or not believed to be, conserved by the 
 government. Furnish them with an arena where 
 they can utter themselves with perfect freedom, 
 where they can show themselves and their demands 
 as rational, and therefore of the highest value to all, 
 or that they are irrational and therefore absurd, and 
 no harm, but good alone, can result to the common 
 weal. 
 
 But I must investigate before I can entertain a 
 definite opinion. It is obvious enough, however, that 
 there are large interests being developed from day 
 to day, and interests too of the most vital importance 
 to productive industry, which under the present sys- 
 tem will have no representation whatsoever. That 
 such a state of affairs must lead to friction, more or 
 less serious in character, is self-evident from the 
 principles upon which our institutions are founded. 
 Clear it is that the governing hierarchy on Olympus 
 was not complete, to the poetic mind of Homer, at 
 least, without a special, a distinct representation of 
 the different functions of civil society — the agricul- 
 tural, the mechanical, the manufacturing and the 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 31 
 
 commercial — the functions of civil society which find 
 their organic unity and guaranty in the state. 
 
 June 23, 1856. 
 
 Put up a full job and requested the foreman to 
 have the fellovir-board and flask which belong to 
 the No. 8 front put upon my floor, as I wanted 
 to test my experiment with the pattern. The truth 
 is, there is no experiment about it. I had no trouble 
 in finding the mastic that I need for the operation, es- 
 pecially as the pattern is not subjected to a variation 
 of temperature, nor yet to a change from dry to wet, 
 when in use. The only difficulty in the trick comes 
 in with the condition, not to change the weight of 
 the casting, or at least, not to increase it. This, of 
 course, is an inevitable result from the additional 
 iron necessary in the pattern to remove the thin spot. 
 I got out of this dilemma by reducing the border, 
 which I found much heavier than the body of the 
 plate, and that, too, in such a way that it will puzzle 
 anyone to discover the change. But I know where 
 it is and what it means. I know that the pattern will 
 run better than any hollow-ware pattern in the 
 shop, and that simply because it has the iron where 
 it is needed. 
 
 Had another talk with Jake about the Holders' 
 Union. He undertook to tell me all about it, the 
 purposes and the means to be used to accomplish 
 them, but upon trial found that it was not so easy 
 to do this, as he supposed. He promised to get me 
 the papers. 
 
 June 24, 1856. 
 
 Had a full job and during the dinner hour I put 
 up the flask of No. 8 fronts, with the doctored pat- 
 tern, in the presence of the foreman. The result 
 was all that could be desired, as I expected, and 
 also, as I expected, the foreman said nothing until 
 he had the casting cleaned and weighed. It turned 
 out full weight and no more. Then he had the pat- 
 tern and casting taken over to the office and re- 
 ''quested me to come over there as soon as I got 
 through on the floor. I found him examining the 
 pattern with a lens, and told him that a glass with 
 no more power than that would hardly tell any tales 
 on me, as I had finished the job under a magnifying 
 power at least four fold that of the glass in his 
 hand. 
 
 "This is most excellent, Henry," said he, "and I 
 don't believe there is a magnifying power in the 
 world that can reveal the patch that you must have 
 put on. I know where it is because I know where 
 the thin place was, but I can not find a trace of it. 
 even with that knowledge to help me. I can not 
 detect it by the sound, either, although there may 
 be ears that can distinguish the difference." 
 
 "I doubt it," said I, "but there is a way of detect- 
 ing it without much difficulty." 
 
 "How is that? How do you detect it?" he in- 
 quired. 
 
 "By washing it off. I have a stuff in my room 
 that will take it off in a very short time, as clean as 
 if the pattern had never been touched," I answered. 
 
 "You don't say so! Now tell me, Henry, what 
 will you take for the secret of making that paste?" 
 
 "Nothing," said I. "I will doctor every defective 
 pattern you have, or may get in the shop, or will 
 sell you the paste as soon as I can make enough of 
 it, and have discovered some way of disguising it 
 from the spying of the analytic chemist. But the 
 use of it, the successful use, I mean, is not as easy 
 as it may look! You have observed that the cast- 
 ing weighs no more than it did. before the pattern 
 was changed." 
 
 "That is so, and I wanted to ask you how you 
 contrived to do that — but never mind. I know 
 enough. The pattern was well nigh worthless and 
 it is good, now." 
 
 I requested him to excuse me for this evening. 
 
 "I have to go up town yet to pay my note. You 
 
 see, Mr. W , it is against a rnle that I adopted 
 
 years ago to keep money over night, if I owe a debt 
 that I can pay with it in the evening." 
 
 He laughed and said.: "A very good rule, an ex- 
 cellent rule, Henry. The debt is certain and the 
 money must be watched, or it is mighty uncertain. 
 •You go ahead, I'll excuse you now, and come in 
 here to-morrow evening — we will talk the matter 
 over, further." 
 
 June 25, 1856. 
 
 Out of debt! The real estate agent offered me ten 
 dollars for the option upon the adjacent fifty feet of 
 ground. That is he said he was authorized by a par- 
 ty to make that offer, but that as for himself he 
 would, not give me a snap of his finger for the option, 
 lot and all. I told him that neither was for sale. 
 
 "I don't know," said I, "whether I will be willing 
 to pay as much for the lot as you will when the time 
 comes, but for the present I intend to keep what I 
 have bought and paid for." 
 
 I could not understand what the fellow was lying 
 about. He offers to pay me money for an object 
 which with the same breath he declares to be worth- 
 less. I have since learned that these men do a con- 
 siderable business in selling property, on the usual 
 terms, as they call it, that is, one-third cash and the 
 balance in one and. two years, the deferred payments 
 being secured by deeds of trust. Then if default is 
 made on either payment, they sell and buy in the 
 property. Upon examining the abstract of title that 
 bad been furnished to me, I found that this had ac- 
 tually occurred with the property that I bought. 
 
 Met the foreman after I shook out a full job. Ex- 
 plained to him that when I told him yesterday I 
 would take nothing for the secret of making the 
 paste, I did not mean to imply that I considered it 
 of such great value as not to be able to put a price 
 upon it. 
 
 "I do not so consider it, Mr. W , and if I did 
 
 think it of much greater value than what I do, I 
 could not have answered you in that way, as I owe 
 the opportunity of making the combination to your 
 kindness entirely." 
 
 "But why do you not consider it of great value?" 
 
32 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "For the reason," I said, "that any chemist can 
 discover the ingredients and the proportion in which 
 they are combined with little or no trouble as soon 
 as he gets a sample of the paste into his posses- 
 sion." 
 
 "But we can protect it by patent!" 
 
 "Not effectually. There are other substances 
 known to science besides those which I employ, that 
 will answer the same purpose. The thought once 
 suggested, and this is done by the filing of a caveat, 
 there will be no trouble in evading our claim. 
 
 "The truth is, Mr. W , there are men employ- 
 ed by European governments whose special duty it 
 is to watch the applications of scientific results to 
 the industrial arts, to examine and report upon every 
 new process emploj'ed to obtain known results and 
 every combination to produce new ones. There is 
 not a new patent issued, or a new product introduced 
 into the commerce of the world anywhere, or from 
 any source, but what is at once subjected to this in- 
 vestigation. Not even a quack nostrum, in the shape 
 of a patent medicine, makes its appearance but the 
 elements of its composition are determined, the cost 
 ascertained and the expense of their incorporation 
 fixed. The information thus obtained is published 
 in Berlin, for example, semi-annually, in book form, 
 in which the leading industries are arranged in al- 
 phabetical order. Under the head, of each is given 
 what has appeared new in that line since the last 
 Ipublication, together with the opinion as to its 
 practical value and suggestions in regard to further 
 improvements. Here you find husbandry, building, 
 dyeing, tanning, metallurgy and so on through the 
 list. Of course, much of the information contained 
 in these reports is of no present value to us, on ac- 
 count of the difference of the economic conditions 
 that prevail in European countries and here. In met- 
 allurgic operations, for example, if your labor costs 
 you ten, fifteen or twenty-five cents a day, you can 
 work an ore and employ methods with a profit that 
 will bankrupt you when you pay two, three and five 
 dollars a day for your labor. 
 
 "You see, Mr. W , how the thing looks to 
 
 me, and I think the best way will be that we keep 
 the matter to ourselves and use it for the benefit of 
 
 the shop. Mr. F will pay me fairly for every 
 
 pattern we save from the scrap pile, and also for 
 the saving we may effect in the working of others; 
 for there is not a cook stove put up in the shop but 
 what can be improved in quality and reduced in 
 weight by putting the iron accurately where the use 
 of the stove demands it, and saving it from parts 
 where it is not needed." 
 
 "I understand you, Henry," said the foreman, "and 
 I will manage it. I will have a private shop fixed up 
 for you and there you can doctor the botched pat- 
 terns at your leisure, and when we have the matter 
 
 in shape I will call in Mr. F and show him 
 
 what we are doing." 
 
 June 26, 1856. 
 
 A fine day's work. Had a talk with Mike and Jake 
 upon the old subject, the union, which seems to ab- 
 
 sorb all their mental activity that is not employed 
 in directing their labor. Yet they know nothing 
 about it as an organization of rational beings. They 
 have, or seem to have, a blind faith that it will be of 
 help to them in obtaining more pay for their work, 
 and in some way ameliorate their condition general- 
 ly. When I listen to them awhile and then reflect 
 what life means to them, that their craft is the 
 source of their living, the one thing that does not 
 fail them, the one thing that they have to look to, 
 to trust, to rely upon, for their very means ot exist- 
 ence, I can measurably understand their faith. Of 
 the relation of their craft to the productive industry 
 of the world as a whole, they know nothing; of the 
 reciprocal interdependence of that industry, each 
 craft or function upon all, and all upon each, they 
 know nothing; of the guarantee by government of 
 justice alike for all and each, which as an invisible 
 spirit permeates, creates and maintains the wnole 
 from day to day, they know nothing Their horizon 
 is shut in by the walls of their shop. Their only out- 
 look beyond is another shop — their craft. I can not 
 wonder at their faith! 
 
 But, ought not this faith to be utilized? Is it not 
 the natural avenue to their conviction? To the free- 
 man justice alone is not sufficient; he must also 
 know, must be convinced that he receives justice. 
 The road to this knowledge and conviction runs 
 through this faith in his craft, for the artisan and 
 the man produced by that craft. 
 
 We say to the districts, counties, states, "Send us 
 your representative, that we may have counsel to- 
 gether of what is wisest and best for us as a people; 
 that we may see the paths of justice, for they are 
 the paths of peace and universal well-being." He 
 comes. Whom does he represent? He represents 
 a district, an abstraction. But what docs this ab- 
 straction contain? It contains the agriculturalist, the 
 mechanic, the manufacturer, the merchant, the mi- 
 ner, the banker, as it may happen. But these inter- 
 ests are conflicting, or are believed to be. How is 
 the representative to retain the confidence of all, 
 when each believes that he has favored the other at 
 his particular expense? How is he to retain their 
 confidence, so that they may see through him their 
 individual interests harmonized with the general in- 
 terest, their individual purpose with the general pur- 
 pose — themselves as vital articulated members of 
 the organic whole, the nation? "He! He is a pretty 
 fellow! Sold us out at the first bid! Well, it's the 
 last time!" 
 
 Another representative is found, to represent a 
 column, plus and minus sign added together. An- 
 other is found to drive the cart, with one horse 
 hitched in the shafts, another to the tail-board and 
 one to each of the two wheels. He mounts with' 
 considerable flourish of whiplash and toot of horn, 
 as if a real postilion. But the cart does not move. 
 He represents nothing — an abstraction, a district, 
 with so and so many inhabitants, with interests as 
 diverse as plus and minus signs in arithmetic; with 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 33 
 
 purposes that aim to reach the four points of the 
 compass at once, in one journey, without change of 
 direction. A change of representative, then, does no 
 good NVe must organize, rely on ourselves, help 
 ourselves and disintegration is bom! 
 
 Again we call for the representatives of the peo- 
 ple, but here are people that under the prevailing 
 method of answering that call can not be represent- 
 ed; and yet they control some of the most vital func- 
 tions of civil society, such as transportation and 
 banking. These functions are to the organic totality 
 called productive industry, or civil society, what the 
 circulation of the blood and the nervous system are 
 to the physical body of man. But they have no vot- 
 ing capacity The employes of a railroad a thou- 
 sand miles long, costing millions of dollars a year 
 to operate, are scattered through hundreds of vot- 
 ing precincts, in not one of which they can elect a 
 constable, and in all of which combined their vote 
 amounts to nothing. The banks have no employes, 
 or what few they have are scattered in the same way 
 Both interests are cut off from any representation 
 whatever, and yet not a movement can be made by 
 or within the body politic without affecting them, 
 either directly or indirectly. 
 
 What is the consequence? Barred from the floor 
 of the hall of representatives, they take the lobby; 
 barred from the floor where they might compel atten- 
 tion, they take the lobby where they have to buy 
 attention. They cannot send the sergeant-at-arms 
 for the members to attend the deliberations, so 
 they send the caterer, with his viands and liquors. 
 Barred from an appeal to the intelligence, to the con- 
 \nction of the members in the public forum, with the 
 nation as audience, they appeal to the members' 
 greed, in a private corner, with the nation barred out 
 from supervision, intelligent appreciation and con- 
 trol and corruption, so called, is born. Nor will it 
 lack for material to feed upon. The representative 
 who represents nothing, as we have seen, must 
 serve some purpose — he is a man! 
 
 Suppose now we were to var>- the call, and instead 
 of districts and numerical abstractions we were to 
 call the different functions of society into council. 
 Each comes in its own name, full of itself, big with 
 its own interests; knows that interest in all its bear- 
 insrs and ramifications: knows that the nation, nay 
 the universe itself depends upon it and it alone. It 
 is "the foundation, the corner stone," etc The bat- 
 tle is on. the real battle of each interest with all and 
 all with each; and the result can only be that each 
 recognizes that it is a part, instead of the whole — a 
 .member of the body, instead of the body itself. With 
 this conviction the representative returns to his home 
 people — his by occupation, association and interest 
 This conviction he brings home with him for them, 
 and from him. if from any one. they can receive it. 
 The identity of interest, association, occupation, of 
 character all conspire to sustain the confidence, which 
 might falter for want of clear intelligence. Nor 
 can it be doubtful but what the latter would be ma- 
 
 terially enhanced by the interest which such a con- 
 flict, based upon realities instead of abstractions 
 would excite in the public mind at large. 
 
 But suppose he does not come home with that con- 
 viction. Suppose he is incapable of it. What then? 
 Well, he has at least found out that there are other 
 people in this world besides himself. He has been 
 the great man of his craft; the smart man of his co- 
 terie in their opinion, and especially in his own; the 
 smart-aleck, who knew that the world has been wal- 
 lowing in ignorance and confusion this long while, 
 because nature did not see fit to send him some cen- 
 turies sooner for its redemption. But all this is to an 
 end now. He has convinced his associates, his fellow 
 craftsman that if anyone, he surely can set things to 
 right. With this firm conviction of himself, and the 
 bearer of it, as indorsed by his associates, his con- 
 stituents he steps into the arena, with an importance 
 fairly up to the occasion. But there he meets an- 
 other smart-aleck, fully the size of himself, and the 
 Killkenny cat fight of smart-aleckism is unavoida- 
 ble. Now see. when the wind has blown away the 
 fur, the only remains of the conflict, see, is not the 
 air purer? 
 
 This purifying of the community of its smart-aleck- 
 ism, which it continually produces, and must produce 
 so long as man is born a child, this aggressive im- 
 maturity, so impatient of the rational in human life, 
 which it has not realized and can not apprehend — this 
 precocity, so attractive to the partially informed, is it 
 not a great ser^^ce to have it decently removed into 
 the inane — rendered harmless in its simple, innocent 
 way of mutual annihilation? And where can this be 
 done so effectually as in the arena in question? At 
 lowest then, it could not fail to be a safety valve 
 for the political machinery. It would carry off into 
 utter vacuity the superfluous motive power, which 
 but for such a vent might prove dangerous to all 
 concerned. 
 
 I make skillets. With this work and skill I earn 
 four dollars a day. I make skillets, my friend Jochen, 
 across the river, raises the materials that go into 
 the skillets, the steaks, the hams, the eggs, the 
 potatoes, the onions — the things to fry. I furnish 
 him. and ten thousand like him. with skillets, and 
 they furnish me with the things to fry. If they pro- 
 duced nothing to fry, nobody would want a skillet 
 TCow, then, what does he get? I get four dollars a 
 day, and he gets fifty cents, thirteen dollars a month 
 and board. If the board is worth thirteen dollars a 
 month more, he gets one dollar a day. the year 
 around. For this he works, from daylight to dark, 
 from six to six in the winter, and from four o'clock 
 in the morning to seven o'clock at night in the 
 summer months of the year. On these conditions he 
 furnishes the thing to fry, and I the things to fry 
 them in. 
 
 "Well, he has no more sense." you say. "Why 
 doesn't he learn something, a trade, and he wouldn't 
 have to slave like a nigger!" 
 
 Two months ago I had to look for a job. I looked 
 
34 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 into the shoemaker's shop, the harnessmaker's shop, 
 the currier shop — trades which I know. The jour- 
 neymen in these shops earned from a dollar and a 
 half to three dollars a day. But I found that molders 
 in the stove works earned as high as five and six dol- 
 lars a day. It was because of this that I determined 
 to turn apprentice, to learn something, in order that 
 I might be able to earn something. It was my 
 privilege to do this, or not to do it, as I saw fit. 
 This privilege is guaranteed to me and to everybody 
 else alike by government, and that is the reason that 
 you said, when talking of the farm hand: "Why 
 doesn't he learn something, a trade?" 
 
 By availing myself of this privilege, I earn more 
 with the same amount of labor than the farm hand, 
 the shoemaker, the harnessmark^r, the tanner, or 
 the currier; more in fact than any mechanic in any 
 other vocation. Do I want this privilege abolished? 
 If so, who is to distribute us, the laborers of civil 
 society, among the different occupations? 
 
 I want to do as well as my neighbor, and if I can, 
 a little better. It is because I wanted to do as well 
 as my neighbor that I sought the occupation in 
 which I can earn most, — the best market for my 
 work; and it is because we all have the same desire 
 and to all of us alike is guaranteed the privilege to 
 follow this desire, that each vocation receives its 
 share of the general supply of labor on hand in the 
 community. If any one vocation is overcrowded in 
 comparison with the rest, it ceases to pay as well 
 as the rest, and labor leaves or avoids it. If any 
 one is within its complement, it will pay better 
 and labor will seek it. And that is the reason that 
 your remark: "He has no more sense; why doesn't 
 he learn a trade?" is not a piece of impertinence. 
 
 The desire of each to do as well as his neighbor 
 is the motive power that distributes the productive 
 —energy of the community among the different kinds 
 of production, which the law of economy— "To pro- 
 duce the greatest results with the least exertion" — 
 has originated. It is the automatic governor, that 
 supplies and withholds energy, as the inherent want 
 of the machinery dictates. To obey this desire with 
 perfect freedom is a privilege, guaranteed by the 
 government to each and every citizen alike. Do I 
 want it changed? 
 
 What is there in nature to put in its place? A 
 man, a set of men? To say to me: "Sir, we are 
 familiar with the special capacity requisite for each 
 vocation in civil society. We have examined you 
 taken your weight and measure, your age and tem- 
 perament and find you best adapted to make skillets. 
 Go and make them!" 
 
 To another: "Sir, you are fit for nothing else but 
 to saw wood on a buck saw; go and saw," and so 
 on to the end of the chapter, for all the vocations 
 must be filled, or the system can not exist. The 
 skillet can not be made unless there is something 
 to put into it to fry. 
 
 June 2-^, 1856. 
 
 Put up but half a job. Was sent for by the fore- 
 
 man at nine o'clock this morning and had to explain 
 to Mr. F , the proprietor, the method of doc- 
 toring the defective patterns. He seemed so much 
 interested that I went to my room for some more 
 paste and tools and set to work on the No. 6 bot- 
 tom pattern, which we examined a few days ago. I 
 finished it roughly in his presence and explained to 
 him the degree of accuracy obtainable. He then 
 asked me about its durability. Would it break or 
 chip off in use? I assured him that in my opinion, 
 with the service to which the pattern was put, there 
 could be no wear to it; showed him that it was fully 
 as hard as the iron of the pattern itself, by the test 
 of the file, and told him that if he would wait, I 
 could get him some samples from my room, which 
 I had used to experiment with. They would show 
 that under the hammer the iron and paste broke 
 with a continuous and even fracture. 
 
 "You need not to go, Mr. B , if you have 
 
 tested it, as you say; that is enough. And now what 
 must I pay you for the use of the material and this 
 work? My foreman has told me that you propose to 
 keep the paste for use in our shop exclusively. What 
 do you earn on the floor?" 
 
 I told him my average earnings per week, and 
 also that I left it to him to pay me what my serv- 
 ices were worth. 
 
 "You have better facilities to determine what is 
 right in the matter, and I have full confidence in 
 your honesty." 
 
 He looked at me with a penetrating, somewhat 
 quizzical, expression and said: 
 
 "Do you know my brother, Oliver?" 
 I answered, "No." 
 
 "I must introduce you to him. He will like you 
 and you will like him." 
 
 Before I could thank him, he turned to the fore- 
 man and directed him to have my name put on the 
 payroll of the patternmakers, commencing with this 
 morning. Then, pointing to a room adjoining the 
 foreman's office, he said: 
 
 "Have that room cleared of the old rubbish and 
 furnish Mr. B with whatever he needs to ar- 
 range it most conveniently for his work. I want all 
 the patterns of our new work to go through his 
 hands before they are put up on the floors." 
 
 He then bade me "Good morning," with the re- 
 mark: 
 
 "I think we will not quarrel about the pay." 
 
 Mr. W was in high glee. 
 
 "I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for this," he 
 burst out, shaking me by the hand. "You have 
 found your man exactly, and I knew it the first time 
 I heard you polish off the old black-guards in the 
 shop. I knew what you might turn out to be. And 
 there is not a better man in the world than Mr. 
 
 F , if a man takes him right; if a man shows 
 
 an interest in the foundry. And now you will have 
 a chance to look around a little in town. Come 
 and take tea with me — yes, tomorrow night." 
 I thanked and promised him. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 35 
 
 Poured off and shook out my job. Upon being 
 asked by Mike what kept me so long with the fore- 
 man, I told him that I had stumbled on something 
 which the boss thought of sufficient importance to 
 look into further; so that for the present I would 
 mold no more skillets, although they would keep 
 the job open for me. 
 
 "If it is something better than the sand-heap," 
 said he, "I wish you good luck, Henry. You de- 
 serve a good turn. 'Tis hard enough for a man to 
 start penniless in the world once, but when it comes 
 to start from the stump twice over, when it comes 
 to a man being robbed of his hard earnings and 
 savings after he has worked himself up at hard 
 work, then to be sent back to the sand-heap by 
 thieves and swindlers — bad luck to them, says I!" 
 
 I thanked him for his kind wishes, dressed myself 
 and went to see Miss Elizabeth. It made her very 
 happy. She told me that she took it as a great 
 compliment that I was kind enough to think of her 
 and let her know of my good luck, first. 
 
 "But whom have I to talk to but you. Miss Eliza- 
 beth? If misfortune should happen to me, would 
 not you be the first, the only human being, to whom 
 I could go for sympathy?" 
 
 "That is right, Henry," she said, caught my hand 
 in hers and pressed it. "You must always come to 
 me," and then she slipped into the next room It 
 was done so quickly and I felt so strange that I did 
 not know what I was doing, and I honestly believe 
 that I would have kissed her, I was so bewildered, 
 if she hadn't gone so quickly. When she came 
 back she looked very beautiful. 
 
 "Henry" — I never heard my name sound that way 
 before — "have you seen your friend yet and got 
 permission for our Fourth of July picnic?" 
 
 "Not yet, Miss Elizabeth, but if you will excuse 
 me from dinner next Sunday I will go out and see 
 about it." 
 
 ,"I will excuse you, but you must come and let 
 me know as soon as you get back." 
 
 I don't know what has happened. There is a 
 change somewhere. She is the same woman, and 
 yet she is entirely different. I always met her as 
 an elder brother meets a favorite sister, with kindly 
 confidence; but now her presence inspires, claims 
 respect; I might say reverence, where nothing but 
 friendly sympathy was wanted before. 
 
 June 28, 1856. 
 
 Was busy all day arranging my room. Found a 
 bench that suited me and had a carpenter fi.x up 
 some permanent stands on the floor for the patterns, 
 while in my hands. The proprietor called in during 
 the evening and inquired whether I could remove 
 the paste after it has set without injuring the pattern. 
 I told him certainly, and in such a way, too, that 
 nobody could find the slightest trace of it, or the 
 least change in the pattern. 
 
 "The reason that I inquire is this, Mr. B : I 
 
 have been experimenting to discover some way to 
 prevent stove plates from cracking when put to use. 
 
 I am pretty well satisfied that it can be done by 
 varying the thickness of the plate in proportion to 
 the degree of heat to which it is exposed. But in 
 trying to find out that thickness I am bothered by 
 the pattern makers; they insist on making a new 
 pattern for every trial. Don't you think this could 
 be obviated by the use of our paste? It has oc- 
 curred to me that perhaps it might." 
 
 "Nothing easier than that, Mr. F . The same 
 
 pattern will do for any number of experiments. All 
 that is necessary is to put on the paste where it is 
 wanted. After the result is ascertained, remove the 
 paste and vary the operation as the facts determined 
 may suggest. From two to four hours' work and two 
 days and nights for the paste to harden, and you 
 are ready for a new trial When you are through 
 with your experiments, we remove the paste and 
 your pattern is as good as it was before." 
 
 "That is something like; that is what I want." 
 
 He noticed the stands put up by the carpenter 
 and asked thei' use. 
 
 "They are intended to hold the patterns, I can 
 not lay them down flat without inconvenience in 
 handling, not considering the amount of room they 
 would occupy in that position." 
 
 "That is well thought of," said he. "It is in these 
 small matters, in arranging them, in fitting them 
 together, where the time and money are saved in 
 manufacturing operations." 
 
 Had a visit from Jochen. He was surprised to find 
 me moved, but more so when I explained to him the 
 reason. When he learned that the change was likely 
 to be of advantage to me, he was very happy and' 
 threatened to become as voluble as he was a few 
 days ago. It is remarkable how an unusually 
 strong effect upon the feeling of habitually silent 
 people is likely to dissolve them into a stream of 
 words. Their whole inner being seems to be liqui- 
 fied. The words rush out like grains of wheat from 
 a full sack accidentally ripped near the bottom, or 
 like the bees from a hive in swarming time tumbling, 
 rolling, any way out, out into daylight. 
 
 June 29, 1856. 
 
 Got my room arranged for work and spent part 
 of the afternoon with the proprietor watching a 
 cooking stove heated to a high temperature. He has 
 a kind of cabinet fixed up for himself, where he ex- 
 periments with all sorts of tricks. This is the place 
 where he had the stove set up, and he watched it as 
 the heat gradually arose. When red hot on top he 
 examined the joints and pointed out to me that if 
 there was not the proper allowance made in putting 
 the stove together for the expansion of the iron it 
 would prove fatal to the place. When the highest 
 temperature was reached that was deemed necessary, 
 T took measures of the top plate on five different 
 lines lengthwise and on eight lines across, marking 
 each line permanently on the plate. He then had the 
 fire drawn and when the stove was cooled down I 
 ascertained the amount of the exp.-insion by re-meas- 
 uring on the same lines in both directions. 
 
36 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "That gives it to us exactly," said he. "I have 
 always done it by the eye, by guesswork." 
 
 "And that, too," said I, "for every plate of the 
 same size heated to the same temperature." 
 
 "That is so," said he. 
 
 "Now, if you desire it, Mr. F , I will prepare 
 
 the top plate of the stove, where I understand the 
 main trouble is situated, with some chemicals that 
 will retain for us the degree of heat to which the 
 different parts of the plate are raised, or rather, that 
 will record it for us in different shades of color. 
 Of course, the iron shows this itself, partly, but 
 not as plainly as we can get and as we need it. 
 
 "My plan is this: After we have this top pre- 
 pared in the way suggested, we take it off and it 
 will show us where we must add or take away in 
 the pattern — if you intend to make the experiments 
 which you mentioned yesterday." 
 
 "That is the very thing to do, Mr. B •. Come 
 
 over in the morning, say at ten o'clock. I am 
 anxious to see that done." 
 
 June 30, 1856. 
 
 Today has been a very pleasant one. The old 
 gentleman, who is a practical inventor, and runs his 
 large foundry almost entirely on his own patterns, 
 which explains, by the way, why his operatives earn 
 such high wages, hit upon a new thought. He ex- 
 plained to me that the unequal expansion and con- 
 traction of the iron are the chief source of trouble 
 to him. 
 
 "You see this top, Mr. B ? It is right there, 
 
 either on this or on that side," pointing to where 
 the center bar that separates the front from the rear 
 set of openings, into which the cooking utensils are 
 put. "where this centerpiece joins the two sides of 
 the top plate. It is on one or the other end of this 
 where the mischief occurs." 
 
 "It may be remedied," said I, "to a certain ex- 
 tent, perhaps, by increasing the parts in strength, 
 as you suggest, but the general remedy, the one I 
 see recommended in the book, is that the casting be 
 cut into as many pieces as the nature of the article 
 will permit, and thus give room in the joints for 
 the expansion and contraction of the material." 
 
 "Of course, of course," he explained, "I see it, Mr. 
 B ." And off he rushed into his office. 
 
 I did not know what was the matter, but went on 
 with my work. I thought that perhaps some busi- 
 ness transaction had occurred to him at the mo- 
 ment — he looked like he had just recollected some- 
 thing that was of importance and needed instant at- 
 tention. In the course of an hour or two he re- 
 turned, in the very best of humor. 
 
 "Mr. B ," he said, "in speaking with you this 
 
 morning, a thing suggested itself to me which I 
 think solves the difficulty I explained to you com- 
 pletely. See here (taking a piece of chalk and mark- 
 ing upon the top plate of the stove), I have ordered 
 thp pattern to be cut up in this shape, making three 
 movable centers. The drawing will be complete be- 
 fore night and the next mail takes the papers to 
 Washington. It is an improvement upon my patent 
 
 that I consider of the highest importance. Practically 
 it will enhance the value of my stove at least twenty- 
 five per cent. You see, the trouble caused by the 
 cracking of the top plate to persons living at a dis- 
 tance from a store, or from a mechanic with sense 
 enough to replace a plate, was a great drawback to 
 the introduction and sale of the stove. 'It is an ex- 
 cellent thing, but doesn't last,' was the complaint of 
 the people. Now, I want you to take your own time, 
 and when the new patterns are ready, give them a 
 thorough overhauling, so that we get the right quan- 
 tity of metal in the right place. In the meantime, 
 we will go on with our experiment and find out 
 how far the difficulty can be met by varying the 
 thickness of the plate. Then I want you to go with 
 me through the inner plates, the fire board and the 
 arrangements for draught. We will give every weak 
 point a thorough overhauling." 
 I was glad to see him in such excellent humor. 
 
 July I, 1856. 
 Took tea last night with our foreman. He was 
 in the best of spirits. He has a very nice family. I 
 met two grown daughters and a son, about 16 years 
 old. His wife seems a quiet, home body, whose 
 world and house lot are enclosed by the same fence. 
 I excused myself early on account of some matters 
 in the shop that still required my attention, as Mr. 
 W knew. Today he was quite excited on ac- 
 count of what had occurred between Mr. F 
 
 and myself, of which he got wind, it seems, only 
 this morning. 
 
 ''The old gentleman and you will turn the whole 
 shop upside down. Cut up the plate into four 
 pieces! But it is an excellent idea. We can furnish 
 every stove sold with a set of duplicate centers, and 
 hush up all complaint about cracked tops at once. 
 I am going to suggest to the old gentleman that we 
 do this; it will please him. But tell me, who was it 
 that suggested the idea — you or the old gentleman 
 himself?" he asked with an expression that some- 
 how I did not like. 
 
 "It was Mr. F ," said I, "who did not merely 
 
 suggest but conceived and executed the conception. 
 We were talking about general principles, but he 
 alone conceived the application, and that is the 
 essence of every practical invention. General prin- 
 ciples are known to many and are common property, 
 or they would not be general, but their application 
 in a particular case is the individual act, and hence 
 the property of him who makes it." 
 
 "Well, he is the inventor of the stove, and I can 
 not see why the thing had not suggested itself to 
 him before, and so I thought it was really you 
 who—" 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. W . A man may be the 
 
 occasion of a thought without being its author. I 
 may have been the occasion of the thought suggest- 
 ing itself to Mr. F , but I certainly did not 
 
 make the suggestion. My mind was occupied with 
 the genera! principle; his, with the stove. He saw 
 the fit. I did not." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 37 
 
 "To tell you in confidence," said he, "Henry, the 
 old gentleman don't know himself who is the author 
 of it, and asked me to talk to you about it. He says 
 that in the first heat of seeing out of an old dif- 
 ficulty he may have done you wrong — taken the 
 word out of your mouth, as it were " 
 
 "You tell Mr. F for me that at the time 
 
 when he left me with the exclamation, 'I see it,' I 
 had not thought of the manner of applying the prin- 
 ciple I had announced to the case before us, and 
 that I had not thought of it even at the time when 
 he returned an hour or two later and marked the 
 plan on the plate and told me that the drawing of 
 it was being made in accordance with his direction. 
 Of course, I saw then, and I see now, that it is noth- 
 ing more than the logical application of the prin- 
 ciple. But I did not make the application and he 
 did." 
 
 Mr. W then told me that both patterns 
 
 which I had doctored, the No. 8 front and the No. 6 
 bottom, were entirely satisfactory to the molders. 
 "Both are running clean floors," said he. 
 
 "You did not send out the No. 6 bottom, did you?" 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "But it is not finished. I can save half the ex- 
 pense of molding, or running it, in the iron that I 
 can take out and leave the plate as good, if not bet- 
 ter, than it is now. I want to earn my wages, too!" 
 
 "Never mind, you shall have a chance. You know 
 there is nothing, Henry, like seing a thing — of see- 
 ing a thing do what it was made for. That settles 
 all talk. You see, a small pattern like No. 8 front 
 might perhaps be fixed up some way, but when it 
 comes to bottoms, that is another thing. It is a 
 knockdown argument," said he. 
 
 "But what has the size of the pattern to do with 
 the principle? I will make a pattern the size of the 
 side of that shop, of absolute uniform thickness, as 
 easily as one six inches square, time not considered " 
 
 "Of course, you can, and it is plain to me, and to 
 the old gentleman, too, that you can, but there is a 
 smarty in the office there, a secretary, as they call 
 him. He allows himself a good deal of lip about my 
 affairs, and I couldn't rest until I shut him up. But 
 when the old gentleman had the two castings 
 brought into the office, the scrap which you saw, 
 and the one made today, you ought to have seen 
 his face. 
 
 " 'Why,' said he, 'Mr. F ,' ignoring me, of 
 
 course, entirely, just as if I had not discovered you, 
 
 'why, Mr. F ,' said he, 'this is really a success, 
 
 and will save us a good deal of bother, even if it 
 doesn't amount to a great deal from a financial point 
 of view." 
 
 "It is from that point of view entirely that I deem 
 it important," said the old gentleman. "It enables 
 me to put the iron precisely where I want it, and 
 that is the foundation of my business. Don't you 
 
 think, Mr. S , that if I were to discover a way 
 
 to save a dollar on every stove put up in the shop 
 it would be an important matter from a financial 
 point of view?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. F- 
 
 -, why, you astonish me! Is it 
 
 possible you can see such an advantage in so trivial 
 a matter?" 
 
 "Nothing is trivial," said Mr. F , "in mechan- 
 ical operations. It is a very trivial matter, Mr. 
 
 S , to snap your finger, for example; but you 
 
 go into that shop and do nothing but snap your 
 finger for a week or two and you starve. So it is 
 with every waste motion in that shop — nay with 
 every waste — but with waste of raw material, as we 
 call it, which is very far from being raw, a 
 waste repeated every hour in the day, however triv- 
 ial, becomes a heap; in a month, a hill; and in a 
 year, ten, or a hundred years, a mountain. There is 
 nothing trivial about a waste that is constantly 
 repeated." 
 
 "I tell you, Henry, it was better than a sermon to 
 listen to the old gentleman. Smarty got a lesson 
 that will teach him how to meddle with what he 
 knows nothing about." 
 
 This, then, is the organizing brain, whose concep- 
 tions we run into iron; his thought, the inv'sible 
 spirit that controls the motion of every hand in the 
 shop; and it is this, applied in a new country, that 
 renders it possible for him to pay the high wages 
 which we receive. 
 
 July 2, 1856. 
 
 On our way home Jochen told me his plans for to- 
 morrow, which led me into the secret why he was 
 so anxious for me to spend the Sunday with him. 
 
 "Now, sonny," he said, "tomorrow morning we 
 drive up to the ridge to our church, and there you 
 will meet Mr. Witte, Mr. Cronne, Mr. Wessel, Mr. 
 Neering, Mr. " 
 
 "Jochen, you haven't got the whole village of 
 Doerren moved over there from the old country, 
 have you, from Westphalia?" I interrupted. 
 
 "No, not the whole village, but what we lack of 
 Doerren we make up from Ilvesy, Heimsen, Win- 
 ten, Laha, Sloetelburg, Stoeltenaue, L'se, Ilserhide, 
 Neinknick, Rossenhagen, Weinsalla, Selenfield!" — 
 
 "Stop, Jochen; just think, man, how you are going 
 to get them all into the church!" 
 
 "That is their lookout, sonny. I tell you we will 
 find people there from every one of the towns I 
 have named, and every one knows you and every 
 one comes to see you; for I have told them that I 
 would bring you if I had to drag you over by the 
 hair of your head. 
 
 "And then, you see, after preaching, the parson 
 will splice a couple and we will have to go to the 
 wedding. It is Claus Wiske that gets married to 
 young Doering. The parson has trumpeted them 
 from the pulpit the last three Sundays; and old Mrs, 
 Doering, you remember her, she lived acoss the 
 street from the tithe barn, she told me with her 
 own mouth that if I didn't bring you to the wed- 
 ding I needn't darken her door again " 
 
 "All our old neiijhbors will be at the wedding. You 
 see that is a kind of agreement among us. When- 
 ever there is a wedding and both the young man and 
 
38 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 young woman are of our people, we all come to- 
 gether, if some of us have to travel fifty miles. 
 
 "What is the use, sonny; we live but once! A 
 man will have something! 'Taint all work!" 
 
 To stop his moralizing, I told him that I was his 
 guest; that he must arrange matters to suit himself. 
 
 "In the meantime, Jochen," said I, "I have a favor 
 to ask of you. I have a friend in the city, a young 
 lady, who has made up a party of six of us to spend 
 the Fourth of July out in the country. I told her 
 of your place; of the lake, with shade trees on the 
 border, that I had seen, as a very nice place to spend 
 the day, and she asked me to get your permission." 
 
 "O, ho! So that is the bush where the rabbit 
 lives! Is it? All right, sonny. You bring out your 
 sweetheart, and as many friends as you like; you 
 are welcome, you know that. Why didn't you tell 
 her so — you know that " 
 
 "Of course I do, but she doesn't, and it is easier 
 for me to ask you than to tell hrr a lie — to say to 
 her that I have your permission when I have not 
 even asked it." 
 
 "That is so, sonny, that is so, and Ij-ing between 
 people that think well of each other — that are or 
 may become man and wife — is not right. I don't 
 care if the lie don't amount to anything, it never 
 leads to good. A lie about an apple can eat up as 
 much confidence as a lie about a barn. It don't 
 come to good, sonny, it don't come to good. You 
 are right. 
 
 "But I am mighty glad you have a sweetheart. 
 You see, Henry, you know a thousand things where 
 I know one, bi!t in this you can not gainsay me." 
 
 "In what, Jochen?" 
 
 "A man without a wife is nothing. What would 
 I be without Feeka? What does it all amount to? 
 You run up and down in the world, now straight 
 ahead, now crossways, and what does it all amount 
 to at last — old age, without a home! It's all very 
 well as long as you are young; you carry your home 
 on your back, like a snail, but when you get old your 
 back aches and you are out of doors. When I saw 
 you the other day in the foundry, looking like a 
 chimney-sweep, I said to myself as I was coming 
 home: 'There it is. If that boy had had a wife 
 these ten years, where would he be now?' You see, 
 I know you, sonny. You didn't forget your head when 
 you came out into the world, nor are you afraid of 
 work. Why should you be where you were the other 
 day, after you have been in this country these twelve 
 years — counting Lechtraissen. thi'^teen years?" 
 
 In order to justify his good opinion of me, and at 
 the same time show him that I "got where he found 
 me" by an occurrence that might have happened 
 even to a married man, I hauled out my pocketbook 
 and handed him twenty-seven t'nousand, five hundred 
 and sixty dollars in bills of exchange upon the bank- 
 ing house of P. B. & Co , of St. Louis, drawn in my 
 favor by the house of C. B. & Bro., of Providence, 
 R. I. I had brought them with me for this very pur- 
 pose, for I knew that in one shape or another I 
 would have to give an account of myself. With 
 
 these people poverty is no shame, provided it is not 
 the result of indolence or want of frugality; but to 
 their minds there can be no other cause in a country 
 like this, where the opportunity to achieve a com- 
 petence is open to all. The burden of proof rests with 
 me to show that I have done my duty as a man, and 
 that by some outside misfortune, some happening 
 over which I had no control, the natural result of 
 my endeavors, a competence for life, did not follow. 
 
 It was interesting to see Jochen when he began 
 to comprehend the facts, as they simmered through 
 the obscurity of his mind, very indifferently fur- 
 nished with technical lights, one after another. At 
 first he had nothing but ejaculations, then denuncia- 
 tions of all scoundrelism in general, and these swind- 
 lers in particular, but finally he blurted out: 
 
 "Narren tant, what does it amount to? They 
 didn't get you, Henry!" fairly hugging me. "You v/i!l 
 get plenty of money back. You ain't afraid to work 
 yet, and you ain't a-going to throw it away either. 
 They didn't get you. But I tell you, sonny, if you 
 had had a wife they wouldn't have got your money 
 neither. That is certain. I can't tell how, but that 
 is certain. But I will look at your sweetheart. You 
 bring her out on the Fourth and I will look at her. 
 But don't you tell her nothing until I have seen her. 
 Then you bring her out and let her stay with Feeka 
 a week, or a month, or as long as you please. And 
 then we know. 
 
 "You know you must have a wife, but you must 
 not make a mistake, either. You musn't get one of 
 them fly-up-the-creeks. That wouldn't do at all — a 
 real wife, a wife like Feeka, and not like her, either. 
 Yes, more like her. I mean, you must have a wife 
 that suits you like Feeka suits me; that is it. I have 
 thought over our girls; I have run them over in my 
 mind, but they somehow don't fit. I don't know 
 how, but they don't. There is Lizza and Tilina and 
 Grata and Nora and Lisken, and Friederika and Ger- 
 trude and Rita, and — but they don't fit. They are 
 good women, Henry, as good as ever warmed a 
 man's bed. They know how to keep things together. 
 They don't scatter your heap; ain't afraid of work, 
 either. They are healthy, too, and there is some- 
 thing of them; the wind won't blow them about. 
 None of your doctor's advertisements. But they 
 don't fit; they don't fit" 
 
 And so it went on until we reached his gate, where 
 the same kindly reception awaited us as before, ex- 
 cept that little Henrietta was not qtiite so shy of 
 uncle — would accept a kiss from uncle after a great 
 deal of coaxing from Jochen. 
 
 At the taM° Mrs. Haase-Peter asked me, "Y'^ii 
 are going with us tomorrow to the wedding, are you 
 not, Mr. B ?" 
 
 I told her what I had told Jochen. 
 
 "That is right kind of you," she said. "There are 
 so many people that wish to see you. They all 
 think well of you because they found this country, 
 where we are all doing so well, from the letter that 
 you wrote to my husband. They are so much better 
 off than our neighbors, who went to Indiana, and 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 39 
 
 they always talk of it when we come together. They 
 will all be at the wedding, and you must be careful 
 or they will make you drink too much," she said, 
 with kind of a side glance; no not a side glance 
 either, but something in the remark caused it to 
 glance off from me in the direction of Jochen. 
 
 "There is no danger, Feeka, of Henry. He don't 
 drink at all," said Jochen. 
 
 "He is not a temperance man?" she asked, with 
 an air as if to say, "He is not a heretic, I hope." 
 
 "The worst sort," said Jochen. "He only drinks 
 what and when he likes, and never thinks anything 
 labout it, only it isn't often that he likes," said 
 Jochen. 
 
 "That is just the kind of a man to be." said Mrs. 
 H.-P. "Why shouldn't a person take a drink when 
 he meets friends and can enjoy himself better; but 
 then, to drink until he has no sense, any one that 
 will do that is no man at all." 
 
 "I don't think much about the matter," said I. "I 
 drink and eat what becomes me and what my cir- 
 cumstances permit. I form my habits according to 
 my means and what I think conducive to my health, 
 and never allow them to form themselves." 
 
 After supper Jochen and I went out, the meal hav- 
 ing been served earlier, as it was Saturday evening, 
 and took a look at the fields and the lake. He showed 
 me the place where he thought it would be best to 
 have our picnic — a piece of meadow upon the shore 
 of the lake not over two or three acres in extent, 
 that nestles in a sharp bend of the bluff, on which 
 the fields are situated and slope down to the 
 water's edge. 
 
 "You see," said Jochen, "I left them maples when 
 I cleared the field for syrup in the spring; and threw 
 a handful or two of bluegrass seed under them, so 
 as to get some use out of the ground. It is good soil 
 there, but it is hard to get at with the plow. The 
 shade of the trees don't hurt the grass. That plank 
 there (pointing to a heavy board, some twenty feet 
 long) I use for fishing. I shoot it out on them cross 
 pieces between those posts, and from the far end I 
 reach deep water, where I catch crappie and black 
 bass. When I get through I draw the plank in arid 
 put it back here out of sight. I keep the place baited 
 with corn, boiled potatoes and such like. That brings 
 in all the fellows that feed upon such truck, and they 
 bring in the crappie an? bass that feed upon them. 
 Now I will tell Feeka and she will bait the place 
 tomorrow and the ne.xt night, and it will be in good 
 shape to give you some fun when you come. But 
 don't bring any poles or things. I have plenty for you 
 all and, you see, I don't care to have everybody know 
 the place. You know I haven't time to fool with such 
 things and I must have everything handy, or I can't 
 have bass or crappie when I want them. Those fel- 
 lows you see yonder thrashing the water (pointing 
 to some persons in a skifif engaged in beating the 
 water with a long pole, a mile or two from shore), 
 they are fishing with nets. They use what they call 
 trammel nets. They hang the thing into the water 
 
 and drive the fish into it. They fish for market. 
 They are the people that live in Canteen Village 
 and they haul fish to town like I do potatoes. They 
 know my place; but they do not disturb it; they are 
 too neighborly." 
 
 We looked at his corn. It is just beginning to 
 tassle and looks beautiful. 
 
 "You have heard of the follow smart enough to 
 hear the grass grow, haven't you, Henry?" 
 
 "Yes, once or twice in my life; but I never saw 
 him." 
 
 "Well, if the wind settles down entirely by dark, 
 as it is likely to do, and you come here by ten 
 o'clock, when everything is still, you can hear that 
 corn grow, if not the grass." 
 
 He then showed me that the stock is wrapped, or 
 rolled up in the leaves, and that in the process of 
 growth the latter unroll as the former gains in 
 height, until the entire leaf is free except the stem, 
 which still encloses or adheres to the stock by 
 clasping it. It is the rupture of this part of the leaf, 
 which can not properly be called a stem, but serves 
 the purpose of one, that produces the peculiar 
 "clisp," the sound heard on all sides on a still July 
 night in a corn field. And I have no doubt that 
 Jochen's observation is correct, for I myself meas- 
 ured last Sunday the growth of a vine, planted near 
 the house for ornament, and found it to be four 
 inches and some lines between sun-up and sun-set — 
 so rapid is vegetation in this wonderful soil, with 
 its abundant supply of moisture. We returned to 
 the house with the fading light in the evening sky 
 and found everybody retired except Mrs. Hanse- 
 Peter. She was waiting for us, and handing me a 
 lamp, bade "Goodnight," with the remark: 
 
 "You know your room, Mr. B . I wish you 
 
 pleasant dreams." 
 
 Tuly 3, 1836. 
 
 With the first shimmer of light in the East, I heard 
 Jochen at my door and in it before I could get out 
 of bed. 
 
 "Come, Henry, get up, you can't lay in bed all 
 day. Come, let us see how it looks out of doors, 
 until breakfast is ready." 
 
 As we walked up the well beaten road he re- 
 marked: 
 
 "We can't go far; it is too wet. We have to keep 
 the road, but you can take a look at the lake, and I 
 want to step over and see whether there are any 
 thieves in my berry patch." 
 
 I then saw that he had a double-barrel shot-gun 
 on his shoulder, which I had not noticed before. 
 There was light enough already to see the lake, or 
 rather, the place where we left it last night; for now 
 it looked as if a solid cloud had taken possession of 
 the entire area. As the light increased, the cloud 
 began to resolve itself into distinct forms on the 
 Eastern border where I stood. 
 
 "You watch it," said Jochen. "I am going over to 
 that side," pointing to a border of woods that closed 
 in the fields in the East, "to look after some berry 
 
40 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 thieves. I would like for you to go with me, but it 
 is too wet. It makes no difference to me, you see; 
 I am prepared for it," pointing to his cowskin boots 
 that came up to his knees, and into the legs of 
 which he had tucked his trousers. "You just watch 
 that fog! It will amuse you, and when you get 
 tired go to the house and don't wait for me. I 
 will come back from the other side." 
 
 I took a seat upon a stump, that had been rolled 
 from the cultivated land out upon the edge of the 
 high bank of the lake and I do not know that I ever 
 spent an hour more pleasantly than I spent the time 
 between daylight and sun-up this morning; or rather, 
 I should say not sun-up, but from daylight until the 
 sun had taken full possession of the entire horizon. 
 The whirlings, contortions, twirlings, the insinuating 
 glidings, the maneuverings of the fog to maintain its 
 possession, and the quiet calm, the majestic approach 
 of the sun, wholly unaware of any conflict! The 
 birds, the flicker, the bluejays, with the-r shouts of 
 laughter; the red bird, the thrush, celebrating victory 
 —all unnoticed! Then the fish, leaping up into the 
 sunlight for their morning bath; and the sly turtle, 
 nature's embodiment of deceit, poking its head above 
 the water — first the very tip of his nose, gradually, 
 slowly, little by litte, lest a ripple, the slightest 
 alarm some innocent dupe and Mr. Cunning lose his 
 early meal! I had heard now and then the report 
 of Jochen's gun, but was so absorbed by the scene* 
 before me that I failed to recognize the call to 
 breakfast until the horn was blown almost into my 
 ears by one of the hired men, who had walked for 
 that purpose more than half way up the road; and 
 when I reached the gate I saw Jochen jump the yard 
 fence from the other side with a bunch of squirrels — 
 "berry thieves," as he calls them. The lecture which 
 Jochen received from Feeka for hunting on Sunday 
 seemed to have no serious effect; whether it was 
 because custom had made it a matter of indifference, 
 or that it lacked that peculiar quality which people 
 call "coming from the heart," and without which 
 they assert human speech will not reach the heart, 
 I could not determine. At any rate, Jochen replied 
 in excellent humor: 
 
 "Now, see here, mother, don't I have to protect my 
 crop as well on Sunday as any other day? What is 
 the use for me to go after them thieves tomorrow 
 morning, when they have eaten up my berries to- 
 day? Don't the Savior say that it isn't right to wait 
 until Monday to pull the ass out of the ditch when 
 he falls in on Sunday? What is the use to pull him 
 out on Monday when he is drowned?" 
 
 "That is the way," said Mrs. Hanse-Peter. "Jochen 
 can quote Scripture when it suits his purpose. You 
 might think him a preacher. But when it comes to 
 find a text that is against his conduct, he is as dumb 
 as an unhatched egg — he doesn't know any Scripture 
 then." 
 
 "As far as I know," said I, "Jochen is not the only 
 one that has a convenient memory; a memory that 
 recalls and forgets as interest, temper or the whim 
 of the moment may dictate. If I recollect correctly, 
 
 I have met several persons in the course of my life 
 similarly gifted, and I am not quite sure but what I 
 have detected a tendency, or a considerable talent of 
 that kind in myself upon more than one occasion." 
 
 "Of course, Mr. B ," replied Feeka, "men will 
 
 always stick together, especially when it comes to 
 matters of this kind." 
 
 "Not all of them, Mrs. H.-P.," said I. "You have 
 all the preachers with you in this case." 
 
 "Oh, well, but they don't count." 
 
 We had scarcely finished breakfast when a fresh 
 team, a span of dapple grays, hitched to a sub- 
 stantial spring wagon, was brought to the gate by 
 one of the hired men. 
 
 "There now," exclaimed Jochen, "there is the team. 
 Hurry up now, hurry up, everybody, and get ready," 
 jumping upstairs, two steps at the time. 
 
 "Yes," said Feeka, "of course, get ready, everybody 
 and he is the only one that is not ready," with a 
 good-natured laugh. And sure enough, she was 
 dressed for church and so were the children, a fact 
 that I had not observed before. She was dressed 
 and that handsomely, too, and with her blooming 
 children by her side she could claim respect and 
 even homage from the very best in the land. 
 
 It was not long before Jochen came down, as he 
 had gone upstairs, and soon we were seated — Mrs. 
 Hanse-Peter and Henry on the rear seat, Jochen 
 and myself on the front, with little Henrietta by my 
 side — she wanted to ride with 'uncle,' having over- 
 come her bashfulness quite bravely. Beyond the 
 outer gate we took a road running Eastwardly, by 
 no means smooth, level or free from stumps; but 
 under the steady hand of Jochen, we swept along at 
 a brisk trot, as if driving on some favorite road pre- 
 pared for luxury and pleasure. On we went, without 
 a word from Jochen, his eyes fixed upon the road, 
 some ten paces ahead of the horses, and never swerv- 
 ing to the right or to the left, nor relaxing in their 
 attention — on it went, the horses, Jochen, and wagon 
 all apparently one beast, bent on making a certain 
 point at a given time. An hour or so of this steady 
 gait brought us to the foot of a bluff, the ascent of 
 which was very steep, so steep that he let the colts, 
 as he calls them, rest a little before we commenced 
 the climb. It is only about ninety feet high, as I 
 should judge, but he let the horses rest twice before 
 we reached the top. There he stopped, got out and 
 patted first one and then the other horse, with the 
 remark: 
 
 "You see, Henry, they know me as well as Feeka 
 does, and they like to be told that they have done 
 well when they get through a bad piece of work — as 
 well as anybody. So I always like to give them a 
 good word; 'tis cheaper than the whip lash." 
 
 "But how do you like the lay of the land up here? 
 Thfs what we are on is Conrad Witte's farm. That 
 there is his house. You remember, he used to be 
 shepherd at our house." 
 
 "You mean at my father's," said I. 
 
 "Certainly. Wasn't that our house? And yonder 
 is Christian Cronne; he used to make shoes for us. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 41 
 
 They are both getting rich, because this hill is so 
 steep. You see, they haul their truck down the 
 hill to town, and when they come back they can't 
 bring anything with them. The hill is so steep they 
 can't haul up anything but the money. And. yonder 
 is our church; see the stream of wagons coming 
 from every direction." 
 
 "Tell me, Jochen," said I, "do you think anybody, 
 Conrad or Christian, or anybody else would recog- 
 nize me if they were to see me alone — without be- 
 ing with you, I mean?" 
 
 "No, they wouldn't." 
 
 "Then I tell you what I shall do. You get in and 
 take my little girl here and I shall get out and walk 
 to the church. I shall not go until everybody is 
 seated, and then stay near the door, so as not to 
 raise a disturbance. After service is over, there will 
 be plenty of time to blow and fuss." 
 
 "I don't know but that would be a good plan. 
 What do you think of it, Feeka? Don't you think 
 it would be better?" 
 
 "Yes, it is better, but I should like to have him go 
 with us, right down the middle aisle, to our seat. 
 But I think it will be better. I think our pastor will 
 like it better; and then when they see us come alone 
 
 by ourselves, they will suppose that Mr. B is 
 
 not here at all. It will surprise them afterwards!" 
 
 In the meantime I had got out of the wagon, not 
 without a slight protest from little Yetta. They 
 drove on to the church and I walked toward an 
 Indian mound, which I observed a short distance off, 
 toward the South, on the edge of the bluff. It is 
 called the Sugar Loaf Mound, from its shape, no 
 doubt. It is some thirty feet in diameter at the base, 
 and about the same number of feet in perpendicular 
 height. Looking toward the West from the top, I 
 saw a dense cloud upon the horizon; and as the 
 atmospheric conditions did not indicate rain, or 
 the approach of a thunder storm, I was puzzled for 
 some time to explain to myself what it could be. 
 After watching it for a while, I saw, or thought I 
 saw, on the Northern edge of the cloud what seemed 
 to be a steeple. It then occurred to me that the 
 cloud was the dust and smoke envelop of the City 
 of St. Louis, and what seemed to be a steeple was in 
 fact that shot tower, rendered visible by the pre- 
 vailing Northern breeze. Almost in line with the 
 tower, and due West from my point of observation, 
 I could distinguish the outlines of the mound upon 
 the bluff, from which St. Louis is sometimes called 
 "Mound City." From the resemblance of the two 
 bluffs' mounds to each other, both in form and situa- 
 tion, and the fact that the Big Mound in the bottom, 
 on the Collinsville road, is plainly visible from either, 
 and both are visible from it, a suggestion occurred 
 to my mind, that perhaps the three works sustained 
 some relation to each other in the purpose of their 
 construction But what that relation is I must leave 
 to the future to solve for me, when I am in posses- 
 sion of more of the facts bearing on the subject. 
 
 While thinking over the past and looking with the 
 inner eye for the busy throng of human beings who 
 
 left in these remains the irrefutable evidence of an 
 mdustry, possible only under the presupposition of 
 a high state of civilization, I heard the bell calling 
 the people to worship, and I took the road toward 
 the church. The houses which I passed were de- 
 serted, and as I got nearer I heard the well remem- 
 bered hymns of my youth, the music of my child- 
 hood, sung by the full-voiced chorus of the entire 
 congregation. I was wrapped in memory's silent 
 world, and as I entered the church my feet fell softly, 
 lest their sound intrude upon the mind. I slipped 
 into a seat near the door; and sure enough, there 
 before me was the past in living presence. There 
 were the facts that had greeted, me with pleasure; 
 the voices that had reproved and coaxed the youth 
 a thousand times; the very hands that had fondled, 
 now rough and stiff with work and age; the knees 
 that had dandled me — all as if enchanted, not a sign 
 of recognition anywhere. No, they did not know 
 me. Alone! A stranger in the midst of the friends 
 of my youth, the playmates of my childhood! 
 
 And such our sensuous being, our feeling, emotion! 
 A blazing furnace, fusing our inner selves into one, 
 into ecstacy of joy with immediate contact! But 
 let that contact cease, the near become far, the 
 present distant, and the fire dies out, the half-moulten 
 mass cools into an unsightly heap of slack. Not 
 until intelligence, the perennial, rekindles the flame 
 from above will it be able to give forth even one 
 leeble spark. 
 
 Absorbed by my thoughts, I heard but little of 
 the discourse, and followed the service mechanically 
 until my attention was attracted by some young- 
 sters, four or five in number, outside, in front of the 
 church. They had no coats on and were dressed 
 more like race riders, or jockeys, as we see them 
 pictured, than well-behaved youths of Christian 
 parents, attending worship. They would come to 
 the door, listen awhile, then withdraw out of sight, 
 and again they would be back. They seemed to be 
 impatient. Each youngster had a new riding whip 
 in his hand, and every motion indicated some pre- 
 occupation. 
 
 At last the sermon was ended, and the minister 
 began the marriage service. Then the youngsters 
 got to the door, tiptoed to catch every motion, and 
 no sooner was the "Amen" spoken than off they 
 rushed like mad. A moment later I heard the clat- 
 ter of horses' hoofs and on looking around saw them 
 tearing down the road at utmost speed. In a second 
 they were out of sight. 
 
 I could not help smiling at myself for not recog- 
 nizing an old custom; for not seeing in the young- 
 sters the couriers, who upon such occasions ride at 
 topmost speed to bring the tidings of the happy event 
 to the mistress of the house where the wedding 
 takes place. Nor does the one who arrives first 
 fail to receive a handsome present — treasured in 
 after years as evidence of his prowess in youth. 
 
 I retained my seat and let the congregation pass 
 out, to see whether anyone would recognize me. But 
 no. Not one. At last the minister came with Jochen 
 
42 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 and his wife, and as they were about to pass, Jochen 
 said: 
 
 "See, Mr. Pastor, this is my friend, Mr. B ." 
 
 The minister gave me his hand with the remark: 
 
 "I am indebted to you, Mr. B , for your con- 
 siderate act in not making yourself known before 
 the services. I know how much people think of 
 you and it would have disturbed us all." With that 
 we passed out of the church. 
 
 "But now," he continued, "our duty performed, we 
 may enjoy the blessings of our Heavenly Father, who 
 unites the severed and separates the united, as to 
 His wisdom seems best, with a free and full heart. 
 Mr. Witte, Conrad Witte!" he called, at the top of 
 his pulpit voice. "Come here! Don't be in such a 
 hurry to get to the wedding dinner. Can't you take 
 time to shake hands with old friends?" 
 
 Conrad approached the minister, looked around 
 at everybody but myself, shook his head and said: 
 "Yes, yes, Mr. Pastor, certainly! But where are the 
 friends? I shook your hand this morning!" 
 
 To end his embarrassment I held out my hand to 
 him and said: 
 
 "Conrad, how have you been all this time?" of 
 course, in his native tongue. That was enough. The 
 sound of my voice acted like an electric shock. 
 
 "That is Hennerick, or it is the living — I came 
 very near saying something, Mr. Pastor; you must 
 excuse me. No, boy, but how you have grown! 
 Christian, Christian, come here! I have got him! 
 Hennerick is here! Just look, what a man!" 
 
 And here, pandemonium broke loose, especially 
 when the women found out what was up — the sweet- 
 hearts from my schoolboy days. At last the min- 
 ister interfered. 
 
 "Moderate, moderate yourselves, my children! Mr. 
 
 B — is not going to vanish. He is a gentleman 
 
 not accustomed to such boisterous conduct, however 
 well meant. He will be with us often. He will 
 come to our church regularly. Where else can a 
 man worship with a free and full heart except in 
 the midst of those who were baptized with him at 
 the same font!" 
 
 And so we succeeded in getting into our wagon 
 "in the course of awhile," as Jochen said. We got 
 into our wagon, but did not start; and as I knew 
 that there used to be almost as much rivalry among 
 those who drove as among those who rode to the 
 wedding feast, I inquired the reason for the delay. 
 
 "That is the parson's doing," said Jochen. "You 
 see, there used to be a little trouble, sometimes, on 
 these drives as to who should keep nearest to the 
 bride. We would take chances now and then to a 
 turn over into the d.itch, with a sprained ankle and 
 the like; and after the pastor had talked and scolded 
 about it, which did no good, he went and got him- 
 self a horse and one of those child wagons (buggy) — 
 that is. he made us get him one. and now he drives 
 in front, next to the bride and groom, with their 
 relatives, and the rest of us follow as it happens, or 
 as we can. "No, sonny, say what you will, he has 
 
 sense. If he can't drive, he just tolls the — the 
 flock." 
 
 "Drove! Why don't you say it," put in Feeka, "it 
 
 is the truth. You see, Mr. B , at the home, in 
 
 the old country, I mean, where these fellows had 
 plenty of hard work and but little to eat, they could 
 be managed; but here, where they have plenty to 
 eat and but little to do, there is no living with 
 them — as I have heard the minister tell them, again 
 and again!" 
 
 By this time we were all in motion, and if the 
 pace set by the reverend gentleman in front was not 
 fast enough, there was at least nobody that com- 
 plained about it, or said so. He had the cavalcade 
 strung out in less than no time and but few wagons 
 were in sight even when he pulled up at the gate, 
 and Jochen, who drove past one team after another, 
 until bride and groom were left behind, in utter de- 
 fiance of all orders, rules and regulations — com- 
 menced explaining with great simplicity of manner, 
 how it was impossible to hold his horses, how the 
 hired man had put the wrong lines on the team — 
 maybe, just on purpose — and he, Jochen, dared not 
 put all his might on those old straps and cause a 
 misfortune, where there were so many women and 
 children on the road. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Mr. Hanse-Peter, those horses are no 
 doubt very dangerous, very fractious. I really was 
 surprised to see how you managed to stop them so 
 promptly. I knew, of course, that there was some- 
 thing the matter, in some way, when I saw you 
 whisk by the teams, one after another, and that you 
 would, no doubt, have had to pass me, too, for fear 
 of some calamity, if we had had to drive a little 
 farther. I will see you about those lines. Or, how 
 would it be, it I were to drive that team myself, Mr. 
 H.-P., upon the next occasion? Starting in front, 
 you observe, there would be no danger of any col- 
 lision, even if the lines were bad." 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mr. Parson, and right welcome, if you 
 think you could risk it. But they are nothing but 
 colts. They know me, but that is all," said Jochen, 
 patting first one and then the other, while I helped 
 Mrs. Hanse-Peter and the children to dismount. 
 "That is all, Mr. Pastor," he repeated, as he re- 
 mounted the wagon and drove to a place of safety, 
 out of the way of the bridal wagon, with its gay 
 decorations. 
 
 As the bride and groom stepped, down and were 
 about to enter the gate, the minister lifted up his 
 hands and in a loud and impressive voice said: 
 
 "May the good God of Heaven and Earth bless 
 your entrance into this house as man aad wife!" 
 
 With this they entered and the guests followed 
 as they came up, while the minister stayed at the 
 gate until the last wagon drove up. He was last 
 to enter the gate. 
 
 "Thus it becomes the shepherd," he remarked, as 
 he noticed my look of inquiry, "thus it becomes the 
 shepherd; the first to arrive at the gate and the 
 last to enter." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 ^ 
 
 J On reaching the house, a large two-story log cabin, 
 after the usual style we found a table set, occupy- 
 ing both the lower rooms and the intervening porch, 
 loaded with the very best of what the country affords. 
 There was barbacued beef, mutton, pig, turkey, 
 geese roasted, ducks baked, chickens fried and 
 broiled, with squirrels prepared in the same way; 
 then bread of different kinds, brown and light bread, 
 with biscuits and rolls, huge dishes of potato and 
 chicken salads, interspersed with plates and stands 
 of cake and pies — in short, everything eatable in 
 abundance 
 
 And now the guests were seated — the bride, with 
 groom on her right, at the head of the table, flanked 
 on the right and left by the oldest members of the 
 two families. Next followed the old people among 
 the guests, and farther down the married couples 
 generally. Then the young people arranged them- 
 selves, as taste dictated or chance determined. At 
 the farther end of the table, facing the bride, sat 
 the minister, who after invoking a blessing, said: 
 
 "My children, I wish you all a good appetite" — 
 and the feast began. 
 
 After an hour or more had been spent at the table, 
 and eating was done, music was heard in the direc- 
 tion of a grove of wide spreading elms, where ar- 
 rangements had been made for dancing by laying 
 down a temporary floor, inclosed with seats and a 
 railing. Thither we adjourned, the minister with 
 the bride on his arm leading the way. Stepping on 
 the platform he waved his hand to command silence, 
 and said: 
 
 "My children, according to the customs of our 
 fathers, it is my duty to open the recreation of the 
 evening with the bride as my partner in a dance, but 
 today it would be gratifying to me if you -Will per- 
 mit me to delegate this duty to a younger and more 
 capable assistant. I found this morning the long 
 lost son of a friend of my father's, and it v/ould give 
 me the greatest pleasure if I could commemorate 
 the occasion with some mark of my esteem for him- 
 self and his family — I refer to our guest, Mr. B " 
 
 When the applause had ceased, I arose and said: 
 
 "Your Reverence and Friends — I hope you will 
 pardon me if I have to decline the honor intended. 
 I came here to meet old acquaintances and friends, 
 to share with them once more the customs of our 
 fathers, in all their innocent simplicity, and with all 
 their stores of precious memories. I came to enjoy, 
 not to mar them. How can, how dare I assume the 
 place of him, whose presence alone can starrip the 
 seal of heaven's approval upon these recreations! It 
 is your presence, reverend sir, that restrains the 
 exuberance of youth, that clips the budding wings of 
 excess with the cold steel of reason, and reduces a 
 Bacchanalian debauch to a joyous but human cele- 
 bration of the happiest event in the life of man — 
 the birth of a new family. Be pleased, sir, to 'with- 
 draw the well-intended honor, and I will join you 
 with a good, though less distinguished, partner than 
 our customs, not without the weightiest of reasons, 
 {assigned to you, and to you alone." 
 
 I had scarcely ended, when a voice was heard on 
 the outside of the railing, calling: 
 
 "Where is the 'Fraek, where is the Fraek!" 
 
 This being the house name of my father, I made 
 a step or two in the dir'ection and saw the' mistress 
 of the house, Mrs. Doerring, staring with wondering 
 eyes toward where I stood.' The^ tady "b'eirig bur- 
 dened with all the cares which the occasioh brought, 
 I had as j'et had no opportunity to see and speak 
 to her; and having heard my voice, which I had 
 naturally raised at some distance off, she rrtade the 
 same mistake that Jochen did on our first meeting. 
 This caused some mirth at her expense, from which 
 I reHeved her, by requesting that she join me as 
 partner in the bridal set, which she did with apparent 
 satisfaction. Next came the national dance, a waltz, 
 which I danced with Mrs. Hanse-teter, whom I 
 found very skillful in the measure. Jochen looked 
 on with every feature of his honest face beaming 
 with' delight As the waltz ended and I took Mrs. 
 H.-P. to hei husband's side, he said: 
 
 "No, sonny, you did that well!" 
 
 "It ts 'riot difficult to dance a waltz when one has 
 a partner like Mrs. H.-P." 
 
 "Narren tant (fool's folly), that is not what I 
 mean. It was the talk you gave the parson. That is 
 what I call preaching, Feeka! Did you see how his 
 eyes looked? That is the wa}' they spit fire when he 
 wasn't more than that high," holding up his hand 
 about three feet from the ground. 
 
 Ha-ving set the ball in motion, as they say, the 
 minister withdrew with the elderly men to the house, 
 where the long table had been chantred to three or 
 four short ones; one devoted to dispensing tea and 
 coffee, one tO beer, and still another to whisky, gin 
 and brandy. These were in one room; in the other, 
 tables had been arranged for card play'ng, and it 
 was at one of the latter that I found the rninister 
 playing "Ramms" with Witte, Jochen and Cronne, 
 when later in the evening I sought rest from the 
 mazes of the waltz. I find that the dance is no 
 longer for me. It makes me dizzy; the forrtier zest, 
 that peculiar exhilaration that results from the mo- 
 tions of the body being controlled from wfithout, 
 controlled by the rhythm of the music, instead of 
 from within — is wanting. It is reduced to a mere 
 mechanical exercise of the muscles, in which" no 
 higher organ or faculty participates. For me it is 
 of the past. ■■ ' 
 
 A number of ladies, of my own age. But all of 
 them married, soon surrounded me and theref was no 
 end to questions and answers; to storieg even from 
 our former life, some of which had grown wonder- 
 fully as muehout of my recollection, I corlfess, as 
 I had grown out of the recollectioh of the relators. 
 
 And thus the afternoon passed; with gossip for old 
 age; playing at hazard for middle age, dancing for 
 youth, early man and womanhood; with ball and 
 bat, hide aVid seek, walk aro'uhd, blind' man's buff 
 for early youth 'and childhood. 'None was forgot- 
 ten, none was absent; the whole of life, as it is, was 
 present; devoting one day to happy rejoicing at th'^ 
 
44 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 event that makes that whole possible — the birth of 
 a new family. 
 
 At five o'clock Mrs. H.-P. claimed my assistance 
 to find the children, whom at my request she had 
 given full liberty to go where and how they listed, 
 shortly after dinner. 
 
 "Yes, and I haven't seen a sign of them since!" as 
 if this had been part of my request, too. I told her, 
 however, not to be alarmed, that I would soon find 
 them. The truth is that as I had gone on their 
 bond, I had kept the run of the amusements in which 
 the different groups of little ones were engaged, so 
 that I might produce my proteges when wanted. I 
 had little difificulty to bring them to their mother's 
 side, whose eyes sparkled with pleasure as she saw 
 the rosy flush on little Henrietta's fair face — the 
 result of the evening's enjoyment. 
 
 After bidding 'good-bj'e' all round, an endless job, 
 and making engagements enough to occupy me for 
 a year or so to come, I shook hands with the bride 
 and groom, wished them a happy future and walked 
 toward our wagon. Here the hand-shaking had to be 
 repeated with Witte, Cronne, Doering, Claus, Fritz, 
 etc., etc., etc., until finally, after being seated, the 
 minister interposed with: 
 
 "Children, Jochen, poor man. has no reliable lines, 
 and the colts are getting restless! Good-bye, Mr. 
 B , to meet again right soon!" 
 
 It did not take us long to reach the bottom, where 
 the ocasional heavy shade of the massive burr oaks 
 and elms, together with the speed at which we were 
 moving, produced a welcome change of temperature; 
 and with the light of the setting sun still reflected 
 from the tops of his own chimneys, Jochen landed 
 us at his gate, without having opened his lips, or 
 moved his eyes either to the right or to the left 
 during the entire drive. 
 
 "There we are! How did you all like the fun?" 
 he exclaimed, as he jumped to the ground. 
 
 July 3, 1856. 
 
 Reached home this morning, as usual. Had two 
 hours with my books before shop time. Spent all 
 day on the No. 6 bottom. 
 
 Was amused at Mr. F , who came over to my 
 
 shop and found me with a sponge before my mouth. 
 Have made myself a wire mask to support the 
 sponge, which I have to use to protect myself from 
 the fumes, the gases that are liberated by the acids 
 which I use upon the patterns, where I want to re- 
 duce them. He did not know what to make of it 
 until I explained the purpose. Had to show him 
 the use of acids in my work, which was new to him. 
 
 "I did not know what you could be at," he re- 
 marked. "Mr. W told me that you intended 
 
 to reduce some parts of the pattern, but I didn't hear 
 any filing or scraping. This, however, beats the 
 file and chisel a long ways" 
 
 "It is accuracy, precision that we want, and this I 
 can get better by the use of chemical than mechanical 
 means; or rather, better with both combined than 
 with either alone." 
 
 As he commenced coughing, I oflFered him a 
 sponge, but he declined the use, and withdrew with 
 the remark: 
 
 "Don't expose your health and take your time." 
 
 I thanked him. 
 
 Went to see Miss Elizabeth, according to promise, 
 and perfected our arrangments for the trip on the 
 Fourth. Also told her about my pay. 
 
 "Henry, you will soon be rich again, won't you?" 
 she said. 
 
 "For myself. Miss Elizabeth, I am rich now, and 
 always have been, because I have enjoyed good 
 health. But we are liable to sickness, and old age is 
 certain. To provide a competence for this is a duty." 
 
 "Don't call me Miss Elizabeth, Henry. It sounds 
 so formal and so strangerlike; call me Lizzie or 
 Betty." 
 
 "I will, and so good night, Betty." 
 
 Got home to my notes and books. Writing out 
 my trip to "Pleasant Ridge" church is a great bore. 
 I have to translate everything, and then it is only 
 caricature. These people and their language are 
 one. Their great virtues are industry and economy, 
 and the latter has impressed itself to a remarkable 
 degree upon their speech, for their language is 
 speech and speech alone. They have no written 
 language, no dead, printed word. Everything is 
 alive, vernacular, characteristic — a close fitting gar- 
 ment, revealing in every crease and fold the mind 
 within. The soul of the speaker stands before you 
 dressed in tights, with no idle flutter of flounce or 
 ribbon. It has no general terms, no abstractions, is 
 sensuous, poetic — preeminently poetic. 
 
 For the people who use this speech, thought is 
 in the form of fact, incorporated, or it is not. Fire 
 is. Water is. Earth is. Government is. Church 
 is. Civil society is. Family is. They were before 
 us, and will be when we are no more. We found 
 them and for us they are of one and the same 
 authority — the pure sensuous consciousness. It is 
 one predicate — "It is — it is not!" Every content 
 presented must have this form, or it is not for it, 
 cannot be understood or received by it. 
 
 Water is wet and will drown you if you disregard 
 its nature. The government is just, but will hang 
 you if you disregard its law. Tell me what is and 
 what it is to me, and I can live! It seems so. 
 Show me how to climb the hill and I don't care 
 one straw who made it. Just so! Whence are 
 these things? "From God." Who is God? "Creator 
 of Heaven and Earth." Precisely; that is what you 
 said before. Who made this skillet? X. Y. Z.! Whc? 
 is X. Y. Z? Maker of the skillet! But for this 
 consciousness no other answer is possible. They 
 are! If it opens its mouth to state the whence and 
 how. the answer turns upon itself, becomes tautology. 
 Show me how to climb the hill and I give you not 
 one straw to know who made it! Just so. But then, 
 might not the fellow who made the hill be best 
 able to show you how to climb it? 
 
 Tell me what is and what it is to me. and I can 
 live! It seems so, provided you find government, 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 4S 
 
 church, civil society, family as you find earth, fire, 
 air and water. 
 
 But who is that fellow with the black clothes on, 
 something white about his neck, is inclined to 
 look at you through his eyebrows when he talks to 
 you? 
 
 That is a priest! 
 
 And who is that fellow with the bright buttons 
 on his clothes? 
 
 That is a government officer! Are they men? 
 
 Certainly. One is Jim X and the other is Bob 
 
 L . We were boys together; stole watermelons, 
 
 robbed peach orchards and got licked for it many a 
 time. And are all the priests of the church and 
 officers of the government men? Certainly, even 
 like these two! Liable to die? Of course! Then, 
 if these men, the officers of the government, and 
 the priests of the church, were to die all at once, 
 the government could not do or say a thing, nor 
 could the church? No, wholly dumb and powerless! 
 Entirely so. But they would still be? Well, in a 
 certain sense, yes! But they would not be alive and 
 kicking. The constitution and laws of the one and 
 the doctrines and ordinances of the other would 
 still be in the books, but they wouldn't move a 
 feather on the sparrow's back — they couldn't even 
 preserve themselves if a fire should happen in the 
 house in which they were stored. Just so. All that 
 the government and the church are, then, as a liv- 
 ing presence, with power to speak and to act, they 
 are because we supply them with men to speak 
 and to act in their name. Man does not find them 
 then as he finds earth, air, fire and water. He 
 makes them from day to day. I, the individual, find 
 them, but men do not. I. the individual, find them 
 as I find the craft of making skillets. But that craft 
 is not self-existing; man devised, made and creat- 
 ed it. 
 
 Finished the pattern. If my fingers prove correct, 
 the casting ought to weigh seven pounds and a 
 fraction less than before. Had a talk with the 
 foreman about our vacation — shutting down of the 
 shop by the first of August. Was told that if my 
 expectations were realized in regard to the pattern, 
 which I had just finished, there would be no vaca- 
 tion for me. 
 
 "We will keep you busy right along," said he, "for 
 at least a year or two — but we will squeeze out a 
 little rest for you now and then. It depends largely 
 upon the success you have in reducing the weight 
 of the casting. From what I can see now you will 
 rot have time to turn around. I doubt very much, 
 whether you will be able to do the work all by 
 yourself, for the old gentleman is very much in 
 earnest in this matter, and he is not the man to 
 waste iron that can be saved because it will cost a 
 few dollars to have the patterns fixed right." 
 
 This, of course, is all pleasant enough, but some- 
 how I had figured to myself a useful trip to the 
 sparsely or wholy unsettled country of the West; 
 and this change is a disappointment. I have pre- 
 pared myself with a list of questions which that 
 
 country and it alone can answer for me. Still, busi- 
 ness has the first claim under the circumstances, 
 and so I have written a long letter to Mr. Mcintosh, 
 explaining the situation, with the added assurance 
 that I will avail myself of the first opportunity to 
 redeem my promise to him. 
 
 Had a talk with Mike and Jake. The latter is 
 running the No. 8 front. They have figured out 
 that I am working on patterns, and Jake declared 
 that he never put a better pattern in sand. 
 
 "I have always said," he remarked, "and you have 
 heard me, Mike, that they never would have pat- 
 terns worth a cent until they got men to make or 
 finish them who know how to run them. I can run 
 this pattern now with grate iron and before no 
 one could run it with Scotch pig." 
 
 I told them I thought they were right; that a 
 practical molder was apt to know better where 
 the weight of the iron ought to be in the pattern 
 than anybody else. 
 
 We talked some upon our old subject, the union 
 and whether I would or could join now that I 
 had graduated from the sand pile. I told them 
 that I did not think that I had got so far from the 
 sand heap as to disqualify me for membership, but 
 if some of the boys should think so, it would not 
 make any diiiference to me, or change my feelings 
 toward them. 
 
 "I shall always feel an interest in the welfare of 
 my shopmates, whether I am in or outside of the 
 union, in or outside of their immediate fellow- 
 ship," I said. 
 
 July 4, 1856. 
 
 Waiting for the first boat, I met the wagon at 
 the foot of Market Street yesterday morning. Miss 
 Elizabeth introduced me to Mr. Lemberg, the owner 
 and driver of the outfit, and his wife, who was sitting 
 by his side. She herself made room for me on her 
 seat by placing different packages in her own and in 
 my lap. with the caution not to get them mashed up. 
 The boatman rang the bell, we drove aboard and soon 
 felt the peculiar sensation of riding in a wagon with- 
 out any jolting. While crossing the river I explain- 
 ed to Mr. Lemberg our destination, 
 
 "Why, Mr. B ," he exclaimed, "you are not 
 
 going to our 'Potato Jochen,' the stingiest man in 
 the American Bottom? He used to haul the peeling 
 back when he brought potatoes to town, and the 
 people said that he sold the meat and lived on the 
 skins himself," 
 
 "That, no doubt, was very bad," said I. "I sup- 
 pose that if he could have contrived to sell them the 
 skins, and lived on the meat himself, they would 
 have thought him a smarter and perhaps a better 
 man. V/e are going to Mr. Hanse-Peter's place 
 on the lake." 
 
 "That is the very man. His farm is on the 
 lake, and I tell you we better take some wood with 
 us from along the road; for if our womenfolks are 
 going to make a cup of coffee, they can't get a chip 
 or a twig on his place; that is certain!" 
 
46 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "I'll 'tend to that, Mr. Lemberg. But tell me; have 
 you yourself had any dealings with the man? Do 
 you know him personally?" 
 
 "No, I never did; but I have seen him once or 
 twice loading potato peelings and kitchen offall in 
 the alley, behind the hotel; and people who know 
 him, who bought J)otatoes from him, they told me." 
 While this talk was going on we had landed and 
 soon got through the sand on the island out upon 
 the solid rock. Here the team cheered up and we 
 swept through the village, all asleep and closed up 
 yet, at a brisk trot. As the sun began to look over 
 the Eastern bluff, we reached the shore of Indian 
 Lake, and the ladies were in ecstacy at the new and 
 unexpected sight. Through Canteen Village, around 
 the turn, into the Collinsville road, right and left 
 new objects, a new world glistened with a night's 
 blessing ol dew beneath the morning sun. Before 
 we had fairly settled down to the enjoyment of the 
 drive, we were hailed with a "good morning" from 
 Jochen, who was holding the gate wide open for 
 us to enter. 
 
 "Drive in," he said, "and follow me." He walked 
 up the road ahead of the horses. As we approached 
 the grovCi of which we could only see the tops of 
 the trees, I noticed a slender streak of smoke curl- 
 ing up among the foliage of the maples. This 
 puzzled me, but when the team stopped as near the 
 edge of the bank as it was safe to drive, and we 
 could see the glade spread out beneath us, I saw 
 that there was nothing strange about it. On the 
 left or South side, under three large maples, whose 
 branches interlock, a table was set and furnished 
 ready for breakfast, which Feeka was dishing up, 
 and partly still preparing, over the fire, the smoke 
 of which I had seen. I looked at Elizabeth and then 
 at Lemberg, as much as to sav, how is this fc- 
 the "stingiest man in the American Bot*im"? After 
 introducing my friends, Jochen insisted on attend- 
 ing to the horses, or on assisting Mr. Lemberg 
 in seeing them stabled and fed. Before they re- 
 turned I had introduced the ladies, and Feeka was 
 happy in bustling about. 
 
 "Everything is so unhandy out in the woods!" 
 she said, half in explanation and half by way of 
 excuse, to Miss Elizabeth, who came to her assist- 
 ance. The two soon had breakfast on the table, and 
 when Jochen and Lemberg came back we sat down 
 to a welcome meal of fine ham and eggs, and as fresh 
 crappie and bass as ever went kicking into a picnic 
 pan. Feeka and Elizabeth waited on the table, and 
 neither would listen to invitation or remonstrance. 
 
 "We have plenty of time to eat when you get 
 through," said Feeka. 
 
 "It tastes fcetter when I have seen others enjoy 
 a meal that I have prepared," said Elizabeth. 
 
 In the meantime I missed the children, Henry and 
 Henrietta. In reply to my question Mrs. Hanse- 
 Peter told me that they were not up yet. but Jochen 
 said nothing. This annoyed me; so I asked Ii'm 
 where they were, and after hemming and ha\ving 
 awhile, he acknowledged that they were at the 
 
 house, but mother thought that they would be in the 
 way and bother the strangers, etc. Without waiting 
 to hear the end of his explanation, I arose from the 
 table and went to the house for my 'young friends. 
 I found them wide awake enough, in charge of an 
 old lady, a stranger to me, who first demurred, but 
 upon hearing who I was, consented for the little 
 ones tb go with me. I soon got to the grove 
 with one on each hand, to the great delight of Miss 
 Elizabeth and little Yetta, 'who became very warm 
 friends before the day was over. 
 
 I finished eating my breakfast, but kept an eye 
 now and then upon the water around and beyond 
 the fish plank, which Jochen had put in place and 
 supplied with a hand rail, "for the women folks to 
 hold on to, too," as he explained. I saw that the 
 fish were feeding and, of course, felt eager to hive a 
 tussle with them. The specimens on the table were 
 crappie and bass, of a pound or a pound and a 
 half to two pounds weight, in size. I asked Jochen 
 whether there were any larger fish in the lake. 
 
 "Ah, j'es; but to catch them! There are plenty 
 big fellows in the lake, but to get them out — that 
 is the trick! You see when you get one of them 
 big fellows on the hook he almost always drops 
 off just as you swing him ashore!" 
 That was good news for me. 
 
 "But what do you fish with; what do you use for 
 bait?" I asked 
 
 "Worms and sometimes minnows. I caught some 
 minnows last night, not knowing but that you might 
 like them better." 
 
 No sooner had little Yetta heard of fishing than 
 she was ready; and Uncle would fix her hook and 
 line. The large piece of cake even, with which 
 Miss Elizabeth had introduced herself, was laid 
 aside. 
 
 Yes, and she could catch them. She had caught a 
 fish some time ago; and it was a real fish, too. I got 
 her a little rod and baited her hook, while Jochen 
 made himself useful to Miss Elizabeth, Mr. Lemberg 
 to his wife and John Robertson to his sister, Mary. 
 Nor was it long before my little protege caught a 
 small sunfish, a perch. This, of course, was glory 
 enough. 
 
 "The first fish! Little Yetta caught the first fish!" 
 I thought I could see her grow in heiglit, visibly! 
 But Jochen seemed to be maneuvering about for 
 something. He had this to fetch and that to fix, 
 until passing me, he said in an undertone, "The far- 
 ther out the better fishing." 
 
 I then suggested that as Jochen was most famil- 
 iar with the plank and ground, he should go 
 first and take Miss Elizabeth with him, as she was 
 a little timid on account of the water. To this all 
 agreed. 
 
 "But where are you going to fish?" said he, in 
 a tone that told me that he had not taken all this 
 trouble for the sake of strangers. 
 
 "I am going to fish with little Yetta, right here, 
 from the bank." 
 
 At the same time I put my rod together. - ■ t 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 47 
 
 "Ah, well," said he, "with that thing it makes no 
 difference. You can't do nothing nohow. Why 
 don't you come and take my pole? I have had fun 
 this morning already." 
 
 "By and by, Jochen!" 
 
 Just then little Yetta caught another fish. 
 
 "And how many is that. Uncle?" 
 
 "That is four altogether. May I have this one?" 
 
 "Yes, you baited my hook. But we count him!" 
 
 "Certainly; you caught four." 
 
 I put on my reel, a genuine Meek, presented to 
 me by the maker himself at Georgetown, Ky., four 
 years ago — adjusted sinker, float and hook to the 
 bait I intended to use, which was the last perch 
 caught by Yetta, stepped to a high place, where the 
 main bank that enclosed our glade comes down to 
 the water's edge, and made a cast some ten feet 
 beyond the farther end of the plank, on which the 
 rest were standing. A light North breeze riffled 
 the water almost up to the fishing place where their 
 floats were swimming. It was into this riffle that 
 I sent the bait. 
 
 "Look at the scamp! He's going to fish on the 
 other side of the lake," said Jochen, and before he 
 had the words well out of his mouth, away went 
 the float clean out of sight. 
 
 "Pull man, pull! Why don't you snatch your fish 
 out?" 
 
 Of course, I paid no attention to the well-meant 
 advice, but after the fish had taken some ten or 
 fifteen feet of line and stopped, I gave him the 
 hook, and sure enough, I struck a fish that meant 
 business. But I knew my tackle. As the fish rose 
 clear out of the water to shake the hook out, there 
 arose such a chorus of screams and such yelling 
 of: "Take him out, you will lose j'our fish — 'tis the 
 biggest fish that I ever saw in the lake! Why don't 
 you take him out! Pull him!" and the like that I 
 thought at first somebody had fallen in the water. 
 But I had no time to look. A quick glance to see 
 that Elizabeth was safe, and my eyes were on that 
 fish — for there were moss patches to take into ac- 
 count. After a stiff fight he answered the reel, and 
 by the time he was half way to shore he surren- 
 dered entirely. I landed him safely and nothing 
 would do but Jochen must go for the scales. I told 
 him it was a good four-pound fish, but to his ex- 
 cited imagination — "Ten pounds" was the least he 
 would weigh. The fish weighed four pounds and 
 eight ounces. Little Yetta was all upset, like all 
 the rest. 
 
 "Mother, mother. Uncle has caught a fish as big 
 as me! He took one of my fish and that big one 
 wanted to steal him. Uncle says, and he caught him 
 at it. 
 
 But she had lost all interest in catching perch. 
 
 "They are so little!" she said. When I proposed 
 to trade, however, and told her that I would give 
 her my fish for her three, she was eager for the 
 bargain and consented to catch some more, "If 
 Henry would help her." To this Henry, who had 
 
 been very shy of me, readily assented, and the two 
 kept me in bait more than I could use. 
 
 And now the breeze having freshened a little, 
 and quiet being restored, all hands commenced to 
 catch fish — Jochen, Elizabeth, Lemberg and John 
 Robertson. The latter two had struck some crappie, 
 and as that fish generally goes in schools, they 
 were doing well. I showed Mrs. Lemberg and Miss 
 Mary Robertson where they could have some fun, 
 and the best of good humor prevailed. 
 
 With the reflection, "Yes, yes! That's the way it 
 goes when you undertake to teach your grand- 
 mother how to catch fleas! Was afraid the boy 
 wouldn't have any fun — took a deal of trouble to 
 advise him, do for him — and he, well he just cooly 
 beats us all!" Jochen kept hauling out one and two 
 pound bass whenever he had a chance to put 
 his own hook in the water, for Elizabeth kept 
 him pretty busy attending to her hook; which he 
 did with a great deal of good will, if not with much 
 suavity of manners. When I mentioned his gallan- 
 try, he would have it that it was the bonnet, his 
 wife's sun bonnet, which Mrs. H.-P. had consider- 
 ately given to Miss Elizabeth to protect her face 
 from the burning sun. 
 
 As the wind continued to freshen up, I tried for 
 some more outsiders, and succeeded in landing three 
 additional heavy fish — one, the rise of five pounds. 
 I then suggested that we had caught fish enough; 
 but John Robertson and Mr. Lemberg thought that 
 they would like to take some home with them; so 
 I busied myself with stringing fish and assisting the 
 ladies, when they caught themselves or each other. 
 Finally Jochen insisted I go to the end of the plank 
 and catch a "Big Minnow Thief," whom he had fed 
 all morning, according to his story, but never was 
 able to hold after he got on his hook. I tried and 
 landed a four-pound fish. Then he wanted to know 
 how it happened that I caught only big fish. 
 
 "That is simple enough, Jochen. I fish for them. 
 Every one of you has caught more fish in aggre- 
 gate weight than I have, but I use bait and tackle for 
 large fish, and select water where they are most 
 likely to run — places they like best. 
 
 And now Mrs. Hanse-Peter asked whether we 
 wanted any fish cooked for dinner. As a unanimous 
 "of course" came back by way of answer, Elizabeth 
 quit her rod and asked me to show her how to 
 clean some of the large fish, and she would bake 
 them for dinner. This was soon done — that is, I 
 bled and cleaned what she selected from my string. 
 By this time the rest of the ladies sought the shade, 
 but John Robertson and Mr. Lemberg still stuck to 
 their rods, although their faces were as red as 
 boiled lobster, from the effects of the July sun. 
 
 While Elizabeth and Feeka were busy with their 
 potatoes, butter, onions, peper, salt and things for 
 the filling and with regulating the fire, under the 
 Dutch oven, — Jochen winked me aside, and when we 
 got a couple of hundred yards away, to a nook in the 
 bank, similar to our glade, only not so large, where 
 
48 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 there stood a solitary maple, he sat down in the 
 shade and said: 
 
 "Nah, Henry; they may say what they will, a 
 good woman she is! I know a lark from a crow 
 when I see them side by side in broad daylight. 
 That is a woman for you — ^yes, for anybody; for a 
 prince! I have watched her. But you needn't. 
 There is nothing to watch; she is all there, at first 
 sight! Yes, sonny, you have made no mistake." 
 
 "Has it ever occurred to you, Jochen — " said I, 
 "that our people when they said, 'First a cage 
 and then a bird,' had some sense? I have thought 
 it over and it seems to me that they intended to 
 intimate that if a man was to catch the bird first 
 and then had to go and build a cage, he would have 
 but one hand to do it with, as he would naturally 
 have to hold the bird with the other to keep it from 
 getting away. It seems to me that would make 
 it a tedious job. What does a man want with a 
 housekeeper that has no house to keep; with a 
 person to take care of his home that has no home?" 
 "To get a bird and house, both! That is what 
 you want her for," he answered. "How can you have 
 a home without a wife? Narrant tant, man, nar- 
 rant tant! The wife makes the home. Looking for 
 birds in the air when you have them in your hand! 
 You'll have a good time getting a home first and 
 then a wife to take care of it! You know what Mr. 
 Blake told me ten years ago? You see I worked 
 for him, over on his farm, close to town. He is an 
 old American citizen and the richest man in the 
 American Bottom. He said to me one day. when 
 Feeka and her mother were over at his house on a 
 visit, and I brought out the wagon for them, as they 
 wanted to go home, said he: 
 
 "Jochen, why don't you marry that girl? Why 
 don't you marry Feeka; she is a good woman?" 
 And I told him, as you said just now: 
 "First a cage and then a bird." 
 "Tut, tut!" said he. "Jochen, that may be good 
 sense in a country where there are more mouths 
 than spoons and more spoons than something to 
 put into them; but here it is different. I tell you, 
 Jochen, if you have a blanket and the girl has a 
 blanket, and you put the two together, you both 
 will sleep warmer. When I got married I could 
 carry all I had in my pocket handkerchief. I and 
 my wife slept the first two months on leaves, be- 
 cause we had no straw; and you see for yourself, 
 we haven't starved." 
 
 "Sonny, he is the richest man in the American 
 Bottom today. That is sense here, depend upon it, 
 Henry, it is sense here now." 
 
 "Well, Jochen, suppose it is — and I am not pre- 
 pared to say that it is not, provided a man has no 
 other wants than such as he can satisfy with a 
 meal of victuals, a roof and a pair of blankets. 
 There is another question, however. You know the 
 saying is — 'It takes t.vo to make a bargain!' How 
 do I know that Miss Elizabeth would be willing to 
 become my wife?" 
 
 "How? Ask her, of course! You don't want to 
 steal anything, do you? Come, Henry, you see 
 that is narrant tant. Don't know whether she 
 would be willing! Don't know whether fish will 
 swim, birds will fly! What else does a young 
 woman want than to become an honest man's 
 wife? Ain't that what she is made for?" 
 
 I don't know where Jochen would have ended — 
 but we were interrupted by hearing Henry call to 
 his father for help I jumped with some alarm a 
 few steps up the bank and saw him wrestling with 
 a big fish. I called to him to hold on to the rod 
 and let the fish run while I hastened to his assist- 
 ance — not to try to lift him out. I found the fish 
 caught on the minnow rig, which I had fixed up 
 for little Yetta in the morning, and after some 
 trouble, on account of its lightness, landed him suc- 
 cessfully. She, child-like, had thrown down her dry, 
 slippery elm pole, that was little more than a 
 switch, where she sat, when she got tired; leav- 
 ing the hook baited with a worm, dangling in the 
 water. The hook had caught a small sunfish and 
 thus baited itself for the bass. When the latter 
 had gorged the bait he rushed up a clear run which 
 extended between the bank and a heavy moss patch, 
 thus fouling the rod in some lake brush, the shak- 
 ing of which had attracted Henry's attention. 
 
 But now the question arose between Yetta and 
 Henry as to who caught and owned the fish — a 
 question of no small importance, as the fish was 
 larger than any caught, e.xcept those that fell to my 
 rod. All the ladies except Elizabeth declared that 
 Henry caught the fish; without him the fish would 
 have got away. The gentlemen, however, were just 
 as positive, that Yetta and Yetta alone had caught 
 and was entitled to the fish. D'dn't she set out the 
 tackle? Was it not her pole, line and hook? The 
 matter was plain enough, if you only looked at it 
 right — that is. from their side, and carefully ex- 
 cluded the other from view. 
 
 While this case was pending dinner was an- 
 nounced and, not to go to table with such an intri- 
 cate question weighing on our minds, I proposed a 
 compromise, to the effect that Henry should, after 
 dinner was over and the heat of the day moder- 
 ated, have the privilege of fishing with my rod, 
 reel and all, until he caught a fish as large as the 
 one in dispute. This proved satisfactory all around, 
 especially as Yetta thought that "Uncle's pole was 
 too big for her. She couldn't hold it." 
 
 The table was reinforced with the knicknacks, 
 cakes, pies, pickles, etc., brought from town by Miss 
 Elizabeth and Mrs. Lemberg; and did not have the 
 appearance as if it had been supplied, as far as the 
 substantial were concerned, by the "stingiest man 
 in the American Bottom." We all commenced with 
 baked bass and practically we ended with it. too — 
 so well had Elizabeth and Feeka managed to suit the 
 taste of the company. It was really enjoyable, and 
 they came in for unlimited commendation for their 
 
A MECHANICS DIARY. 
 
 success. When this had gone on for some time, 
 Fecka said; 
 
 "Yee, but hero the Bame qufcHtlon arises: Who Is 
 
 entitled to the credit for the feast; Mr. E , 
 
 who caught the fish, or Miss Kllzabeth. who cooked 
 them?" 
 
 "Never mind!" said Jochen, and 9pringin« up frr^m 
 the tabic, he stepped to a wash tub that stood under 
 the heavy shade of a maple to one side, covered with 
 some blankets and drew out flask after flask of what 
 proved to be most excellent home-made apple wine. 
 From these he filled our water goblets and said: 
 
 "Let us drink to Miss Elizabeth and Mr. B 
 
 May we live to eat many a meal caught by him and 
 prepared by her." 
 
 This was so unexpected that Elizabeth blushed 
 almost down to her shoulders, and I could not have 
 been more surprised if he had got up and made a 
 Fourth of July oration, in true VV'ebstcrian style. I 
 knew him to be a man of good sense, but could not 
 have believed him capable of such a trick. To make 
 matters worse, Feeka was bound not to be behind 
 hand. 
 
 "Yes, Jochen," said she, "and a better suited couple 
 there never was made for one another!" 
 
 That settled it. Elizabeth slipped out of the glen, 
 and I, after drinking the toast, went to look for her. 
 I found her in the shade of the lone maple, where 
 Jochen had lectured me a little while before. She 
 was seated on a kind of natural terrace, in the shade, 
 and did not see me until I put my hand on her 
 shoulder. She let me sit down by her side, and I 
 explained to her that these people, in their simple- 
 hearted good nature, meant no harm, that among 
 them it was nothing uncommon to plague young 
 people — and the like. I begged her not to be of- 
 fended. 
 
 "No, Henry, I am not offended; but I felt like I 
 wanted to be alone." 
 
 "Not all alone, Betty?" 
 
 "Yes, with you, Henry!" she said, with a look so 
 true, so kind — I do not know how it happened — but, 
 she was in my arms, and I kissed her eyes and her 
 lips again and again! I know nothing about it. I 
 don't remember. I am satisfied I didn't say an- 
 other word. I didn't remember anything — until I 
 heard Jochen calling me. Then I kissed her once 
 more and we went back to the glen, her hand in 
 mine, until we were almost in sight of the people. 
 
 We found them disputing about the Fourth of 
 July. Some thought it was a holiday because Wash- 
 ington was born on that day, and others, that it was 
 the day on which the Constitution was adopted. This 
 was the opinion of Mr. Lemberg. But Feeka knew 
 better, because it was "Independence Day." 
 
 "What here, what there, Independence Day!" said 
 Jochen. "Here is Henry; he knows; he can tell as." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, come; tell us something about the 
 Fourth of July and the Declaration of Independence. 
 I had put it on the sideboard last night to bring 
 •rith me for you to read to us to-day, but I forgot 
 
 It, in the hurry to get off this morning," taid (lli%a- 
 bclh. 
 
 Of course I complied. I related the hi»t<'>ric fact* 
 Mnd explained the events and their bearint( upon the 
 formation of our government. Then, addressing 
 myself to Jochen, said: 
 
 "You sec, that is a new thing under the sun. You 
 know, at home, in the old country, all that it was 
 necessary to do for you and me to be good citizens 
 was to obey the laws — but here, that in not enough." 
 
 "Why not, Henry? If I pay what I owe, earn 
 what I eat, drink and wear, give every man his own, 
 ain't I a good citizen?" 
 
 "No, Jochen, not of this country. That i.4 right 
 as far as it goes, f/ut more is wanting. That is obey- 
 ing the law, and that is enough to make you a good 
 citizen in the old country. But here, you see, it is 
 not enough to obey the law, but you must al.io make 
 it. That is the difference between here and there, 
 the new thing under the sun, for you and me. 
 
 "You remember, in the old country the first thing 
 we heard when we got to church on Sunday morning 
 was that the minister prayed for u.<4 and on rmr be- 
 half to Almighty God that He would protect, pre- 
 serve and bless the King, the Queen and their family, 
 whom He, our God, had placed over us and ap- 
 pointed to govern, rule and direct us through life." 
 
 "Yes, I remember that, but our minister here prays 
 for God to protect the President. Is not that the 
 same thing?" 
 
 "Not quite, perhaps, for he does not say that God 
 has appointed him to rule over us, and if he does, we 
 know better. We know that we ourselves have 
 elected him; that he is not appointed by somebody 
 else, as for example, when you appoint your hired 
 man to go and see that your cattle don't go into the 
 lake and get mired down — the cattle know nothing 
 about whom you appoint until they feel his whip. 
 We ourselves, the people of the United States, elect 
 a man, picking him out from amr/ng ourselves, to see 
 to it that the laws, that we also have made ourselves, 
 are obeyed and carried into effect. 
 
 "Of course, we had no trouble about such things 
 in the old country. There, Ood Almighty att/snded to 
 them. He made the King; the King made the laws 
 and saw to it that we obeyed them. But here the 
 people attend to all this themselves. Some of them, 
 perhaps the best, will pray for God to assist them 
 to do this wftll, but none of them ar.ks t/) beexcuied 
 or to have a herdsman appointed over them to keep 
 them out of f.hft mire. They prefer to roam at large 
 and run the risk. 
 
 "It was the laying of the foundation for this new 
 state of affairs which occurred on the Fourth of July, 
 1776, that we celebrate to-day." 
 
 "But, Henry, what do I know about the law and 
 how to make it?" he retorted. 
 
 "My impression is," said I, "that you knnw a great 
 deal about it, Jochen — not all in words, perLap.-,; hut 
 the essence of all laws, so far as they relate to th* 
 conduct of the citizens, yoti stated to as a Iittl« while 
 
50 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 ago. Their endleeB application* to the variety and 
 ever-changing nature of human afiEairs require 
 special study and thought. But the meaning of all 
 that study and thought, and of all constitutions, 
 ordinances, laws, rules and regulations, together with 
 all the instruments, such as constables, sheriflfs, 
 judges, courts, congresses, cabinets and presidents, 
 with the army and navy in the t)argain, the only 
 meaning of all this is to make it possible for a just 
 man to live on this earth; for a just man to do his 
 deed without let or hindrance; to protect your honest 
 labor from the breechy cattle, the runty pigs of the 
 community; and this is done by sectiring to every 
 man the result of his every act. 
 
 "If bis act is good he is entitled to it If it is 
 bad he is entitled to it. If his act is good, is pro- 
 ductive of results, for example, in raising a crop of 
 potatoes, he is entitled to the potatoes, to do with 
 them as he pleases. If his act is bad, if be breaks 
 into your cellar or store room and steals the product 
 of your labor, the act is his own and the result — ^he 
 steals himself into the penitentiary. 
 
 "And this is what we call justice. To make this 
 real, so that we can sit here in this beautiful shade 
 to-day and enjoy our own without fear of molesta- 
 tion, and that every citizen of our blessed country, 
 be he rich or poor, can enjoy the same privilege — 
 this was the simple purpose that the man who 
 founded our government intended to accomplish. 
 They did not rely upon the fear of the gods, or a 
 God, as we are told Moses and Xnma did, in former 
 times, for the stability of their work, but upon the 
 love of justice, which is but a different name for 
 liberty, in the hearts of the citizens. And their 
 work can only perish when that love is obliterated." 
 
 "That sounds all well enough, Henry, but it don't 
 tell me how I am to make the law, which you say 
 I must help to make, or I am not a good citizen." 
 
 "How did you get blinds and windows for your 
 house?" 
 
 "I hired a man that knew how to make them." 
 
 "Exactly. Just so. And who shoes your horses?" 
 
 "The farrier." 
 
 "And so you do with every job that occurs on the 
 place that you don't know how to do, or have not the 
 time to do yourself." 
 
 "Of course, and see to it, too, that they do it well; 
 you may depend on that!" 
 
 "I thought as much, Jochen, from the looks of 
 your place. But how did you find out what you 
 wanted? Your house is different from the houses 
 in the old country, and you raise different crops, and 
 others you have to plant and cultivate differently 
 from what you did at home. How did you manage 
 to find out these things?" 
 
 "Why, sonny, I looked around to see who were 
 the best men in the neighborhood and I learned it 
 from them — a good deal from Mr. Blake. I asked 
 him when I wanted a good mechanic." 
 
 "That was natural Now, suppose you were to do 
 the same in regard to this job — that you say you 
 
 don't know how to do. You certainly have no 
 trouble to find worthy men, of some sort, at least." 
 
 "What do you mean? Do you mean these fellows 
 that run for the Legislature and for Congress?" 
 
 "The veiy men!" 
 
 "Xarren tant, Henry, there is plenty of them. Do 
 you knrjw what I thought sometimes?" 
 
 "No, what is it?" 
 
 "I have thought there must be something either in 
 the water they drink, or in what the people eat that 
 makes every man born here a candidate. They re- 
 mind me of the dogs I have had or that belonged to 
 my neighbors; everyone of them is born with the 
 belief that he can catch the next rabbit he finds — 
 not that he ever caught one in his life. Just so with 
 these fellows. Everyone seems born with the belief 
 that he can fill any office, from constable to president. 
 But I don't know, Henry, that they ever fill the 
 offices any more than that the dog will catch the 
 next rabbit." 
 
 "That is very good, Jochen! But, you see, one 
 thing is very certain!" 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "That if the dogs that you mention never even 
 tried, they would never catch the rabbit And so 
 with these people. If they did not even try to do 
 their duty, we could not even hope to see it per- 
 formed; and that these duties are performed, in some 
 measure at least, is evident from the fact that we 
 have not been disturbed to-day in our pleasant en- 
 joyment Now, the measure in which they are per- 
 formed we owe to this belief, entertained by these 
 people, and that is borne not of what they eat or 
 drink, not of the food we eat, the air we breathe, but 
 of the conviction, which the people of this country 
 have put into practical shape, that man should govern 
 himself; and if you will promise me to see to it that 
 those whom you employ to attend to this matter 
 do their work faithfully — if you will see to this with 
 the same care that you see to it that the man who 
 shoes your horses or casts your pigs does his work 
 well, I will promise you to spend the next Fourth 
 of July with you here, and be better prepared to 
 entertain you than I am to-day." 
 
 This ended our talk, to the satisfaction of every- 
 body. Of course, I am not able to say whether this 
 show of satisfaction was because of what I said, or 
 because I had quit saying. £hioagh; it was time to 
 redeem my promise to Henry about catching that 
 fish with my rod. I sat dov/n with him and ex- 
 plained the use of the reel, the way to make a cast, 
 and how to strike and land the fish — while the rest, 
 except the ladies, who were afraid of the sun, went 
 back to their rods, or rather "poles." Next, I ex- 
 plained to him the way to play the fish, and that 
 under no circumstances must he attempt to lift his 
 catch out of the water with the rod, as this would 
 inevitably break the tackle. We then went to my 
 old place, where I made him practice with an un- 
 bailed hook. But I could see that he became im- 
 patient, because his father, Mr. Lemberg, and Mr. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 SI 
 
 Robertson were catching fish very rapidly, and when 
 a pretty good-sized fellow struck at his cork, he 
 begged me to just let him catch that bass and he 
 would be satisfied. Then I baited with the biggest 
 yellow minnow, fully three and one-half inches in 
 length, that I had found in Jochen's bucket in the 
 morning, and which I had picked out and nursed 
 carefully, not knowing at the time that I would get 
 sun-fish. Henry did not appreciate this. But when 
 he asked me to let him use a sun-fish bait, I explained 
 to him that I was afraid he would do like most peo- 
 ple and strike too soon, before the bass would have 
 time to gorge the perch. 
 
 "You see, Henry, it takes the fish a longer time 
 to gorge a perch than a smooth minnow like this; 
 and now, I can set the click at once, and you are 
 sure to have some fun — all you want." 
 
 I then made a beautiful cast and gave him the rod. 
 He had not held it two minutes when he said, in a 
 suppressed voice: 
 
 "There, there he goes. Uncle! Shall I strike him?" 
 
 "A little longer — so, now!" 
 
 And whirr, whirr, went the reel, in great style! 
 This was something new for the rest of the fisher- 
 men, as I had not used the click in the morning, and 
 everybody was on the alert; even the ladies came 
 from the shade. Away went the fish! Straight for 
 Vie lake! I had calculated that he was not likely 
 to run into shore, on account of the persons on the 
 staging — some fifty or sixty feet. Henry held the 
 arch of the rod as steadily as an expert, every now and 
 then looking up at it to see whether it was in the 
 shape that I had shown him. After a few darts to 
 the right and to the left, the fish slowed and I 
 steadied the rod, while Henry worked "the windlass," 
 as his father persisted in calling the reel. He had 
 brought the fish half way to shore, when with a 
 quick lunge, that caused Henry's finger to slip from 
 the handle of the reel, the bass took a new run and 
 Henry began to tremble, the sweat standing on his 
 forehead in large drops. But seeing how quietly I 
 took matters, his courage revived and he plied the 
 reel anew. This time he brought the fish in reach 
 of the gaff. I placed it under the jaw, and with a 
 quick stroke all was secure Henry gave me the 
 rod and then landed his fish — the largest by three- 
 quarters of a pound of the day's catch. Of course 
 everybody had to see, lift and wonder, until Feeka 
 came, and put the poor lad into more trouble than 
 ever. 
 
 "Now, what are you going to do with it?" she 
 asked. 
 
 He looked a little while at the water, then he 
 looked at Elizabeth, who had come with his mother, 
 then blushed, and finally, without answering her 
 question, he asked me how to string it. I got a 
 stringer and cautioned him never to touch the gills, 
 the lungs of a fish, if he wanted to keep it healthy. 
 After he had put it into the water and everybody had 
 left us, he asked me whether I thought that he might 
 gfive the fish to Miss Elizabeth. I told him that I 
 
 thought she would not be offended, but would ac- 
 cept the present with pleasure, and thank him for it 
 right kindly. 
 
 "You tell her, for me, that she may have it. Uncle. 
 I don't like to tell her myself." 
 
 And now I called the company together and told 
 them that I had forgotten something in the morning 
 — forgotten to fix the time for us to start for home. 
 
 "It is the Fourth of July, and the nearer it gets to 
 sun down and dark the more fuss there will be on 
 the streets in town, and the more danger to persons 
 out with a team. I therefore propose that the ladies 
 of the party determine now at what time we shall 
 start from here for home. We can drive it in an 
 hour. It will take us from half to three-quarters of 
 an hour to cross the river, so you can make your 
 calculations accordingly. We ought to be home, in 
 my judgment, by six o'clock." 
 
 To this Jochen, of course, and Feeka, too, had 
 many and serious objections, but they were not con- 
 sidered. Mrs. Lemberg, Miss Elizabeth and Mary 
 Robertson agreed that we should start at four o'clock. 
 This settled, Feeka went to her coffee pots and I 
 made preparations to pack the fish. 
 
 Henry, somehow, had found courage to tell Miss 
 Elizabeth "that he would like very much if she would 
 accept his catch," to the great satisfaction of Jochen. 
 
 "No, Henry, he is no fool, but so bashful!" said 
 Jochen, by way of comment. 
 
 I had told Miss Elizabeth of the kindness intended 
 for her, and she found a way, as women will, to help 
 the lad to the use of his tongue. I arranged the 
 basket especially for the two big fish, the one that 
 Henry and the one that I caught. I put in the 
 bottom a big handful of nice marsh grass that Henry 
 cut for me, fresh from the edge of the lake. Then 
 I bled the fish, placed them side by side and covered 
 them by filling the basket with dampened grass. This 
 was done not until the horses were hitched and we 
 were ready to start. 
 
 In the meantime all fish caught had been packed, 
 coffee was drunk, and after many kind words and a 
 promise exacted from Miss Elizabeth and myself by 
 Jochen and Feeka to come ont and spend Sunday 
 with them, we started on our return home, without 
 having said "good-bye" to little Yetta, who was 
 sound asleep from the fatigues of the morning. On 
 our return trip nothing unusual occurred, except that 
 Mary and John Robertson had taken our seat, the 
 middle one, and Elizabeth and I had to occupy the 
 rear one. This, however, proved no inconvenience, 
 as a little hand rested in mine all the way, without 
 fear of being disturbed. 
 
 We reached home sate and sound, and Mr. Robert- 
 son was very much gratified at the present brought 
 him by Miss Elizabeth. I had to stay to tea, after 
 which she requested me to walk with her to Mr. 
 Lemberg, as she had lost one of her earrings. 
 
 "I thought you would come", said Mrs. Lemberg, 
 "and have been waiting for you. I found your ear- 
 ring." 
 
52 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 After a few moments talk, we walked, or rather 
 strolled — for we were not in a hurry — back towards 
 home. I felt loath to leave Miss Elizabeth and told 
 her how much I enjoyed the day, or at least at- 
 tempted to do so. 
 
 "Not more than I have, Henry, especially when 
 you explained the meaning of justice and govern- 
 ment to Mr. Hanse-Peter. You know I have a re- 
 quest to make of you." 
 
 "What is it, Eliza?" 
 
 "Long ago, when you were learning our language, 
 you used to come to me every evening with a string 
 of words, which you had heard or gathered during 
 the day, and got me to pronounce them for you 
 and make sentences out of them. Now, you must do 
 the same thing for me. You know all the words, 
 you have meanings for all of them and there are so 
 many that are empty to me. I know the words, but 
 not the meaning; yon must give mc the meaning. I 
 have a dictionary, but that doesn't give me what I 
 want, the meaning, as you gave it, for the word 
 'justice' to-day." 
 
 "I think I understand you. But you are mistaken 
 if you suppose I have a meaning for every word — 
 that is, a clearly defined content. I have defined to 
 myself a good many, but very few of the greatest 
 men that the world has produced completed this 
 task, either for themselves or their generations. I 
 know in fact of but two in the whole history of 
 human thought, who seriously attempted it even." 
 
 "Who are they?" 
 
 "Aristotle and Hegel; the one, a Greek, between 
 three and four hundred years older than the Christian 
 era; and the other, a German, of the last and present 
 century." 
 
 "Are there none who wrote in the English 
 language?" 
 
 "None that I know of — in the sense in which I am 
 speaking; for, you see, that sense requires that hu- 
 man intelligence should define itself to itself as a 
 whole, because you want to know the distinct mean- 
 ing of every term used by that intelligence. This 
 would require that all these definitions should be self- 
 consistent, that is, they should not contradict each 
 other — eat each other up, as it were. 
 
 "Now, such a work is not easy, but as far as I 
 am able, I will cheerfully assist you, if for no other 
 reason than to pay off an old debt. But to show you 
 how little you can expect from me, I will tell you 
 that only to-day I learned the meaning of a word, 
 and that too from my old teacher, yourself. You say 
 I gave you the meaning of the word 'justice'." 
 
 "Yes, you showed me the thing itself!" 
 
 "And you, dear Eliza, you gave me the meaning of 
 the word 'love'." 
 
 We had stopped in front of the house, and so I 
 bade her "good-night." As I turned to leave, she 
 called me back and said: 
 
 "You have forgotten something, Henry" — made a 
 motion as if to whisper in my ear, but instead she 
 gave me a kiss and vanished in the door. 
 
 And so I got home, but not alone. She is with 
 me and will be with me forever! 
 
 July S, 1856. 
 Busy writing up my trip of yesterday. 
 
 July 6, 1856. 
 
 Busy all day with the new centers. A long con- 
 sultation this morning with Mr. F in regard to 
 
 them. 
 
 This evening, a call from Mr. W . He was 
 
 in the highest of good humor. 
 
 "It is all right, Henry," said he, "you didn't miss it 
 an ounce — I mean the weight of the casting of the 
 No. 6 bottom. It is in the office now, and all the 
 smart-alecks there are fingering and nosing it, as 
 if they knew any more about it after than before 
 they saw it. But how in thunder did you give it that 
 run? It actually is like running pig-iron. I watched 
 Mike pouring off. Did you work for that, or is it an 
 accident?" 
 
 "There are no accidents in mathematics," said I, 
 
 "Mr. W . The thing I am working for is to 
 
 get rid of accidents. With the iron of the quality as 
 you ordinarily furnish it, we ought to be able to run 
 plate as light as we want to, that is to say, as light 
 as the use of the stove will permit. The running 
 ought and shall have nothing to do in the future with 
 the weight of the plate. If you will send over the 
 oven doors of the No. 6, I will show you. They 
 weigh a good deal more than there is any use and 
 need for." 
 
 "Half the iron would do all the service required 
 of them, if we could but run them, Henry. But say 
 nothing about it. I want to surprise the old gentle- 
 man. Another thing, you must not think of any 
 vacation. There is more work for you in the shop 
 than you can do, if you work day and night." 
 
 Have arranged to do my own cooking — to board 
 myself. It will reduce my expenses and justify the 
 extravagant rent I pay for my room. My work is 
 not exhausting on my physical frame, and most of 
 the cooking I can do while I am reading. 
 
 July 7, 1856. 
 
 Eat in my own room and find it delightful. I 
 have the entire market to select my meal from, in- 
 stead of the table of a boarding house — at two dol- 
 lars and a half a week. This itself more than pays 
 for the trouble of cooking. Judging from to-day's 
 expenses I will not be able to eat up more than a 
 dollar or a dollar and a half per week, at the outside. 
 
 I do not know what it is, but there is something 
 that makes me feel different when I look over my 
 economic affairs from what I used to. I always 
 looked at them as a drudgery, to be submitted to 
 cheerfully, but a drudgery nevertheless, and now they 
 seem to have an interest, a meaning which I am quite 
 sure I never saw in them before. There is a buoy- 
 ancy, a springiness in the step, as I go to the shop, 
 that bears me, as to the accomplishment of a purpose, 
 desirable on its own account, wholly independent of 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 53 
 
 any thought of duty, or special exertion of the will. 
 If I try to analyze, to see what it is, there is nothing 
 to account for this change but the dear one within, 
 the beautiful one who is with me wherever I go. 
 I am literally double. I have more than twofold my 
 former energy, aggressiveness, purpose to meet the 
 world and to claim my own. 
 
 It must be so. Justice alone is not sufficient. It 
 requires love, with its incentive to action, with its 
 prodigality, with its contempt for the interest of 
 the one, so sacred to justice. It converts the one, 
 the "I," the "me," Into a mine of beings — not of things 
 —co-equal with the "I." It converts the one into many, 
 without obliterating the one — but into a one of be- 
 ings, the family; while justice renders co-operation, 
 many with one purpose, possible, and thus creates 
 the many one. They are co-equal, co-temporaneous, 
 co-eternal. Love creates, justice maintains, and 
 neither is of the abiding without the other. 
 
 Had a pleasant day in the shop. My position is 
 established and I am adequate to fill it. It supplies 
 my present wants and gives daily earnest of a com- 
 petence for the future. It leaves my mind to pursue 
 its own affairs, with seven out of the twenty-four 
 hours at its own absolute disposal. 
 
 July 8, 1856. 
 
 Mr. F called this morning and expressed 
 
 himself satisfied with my work and its results. Re- 
 quested me to arrange the shop so that I could go 
 with him at 3 p. m. to see his brother — as that gen- 
 tleman had expressed a desire to see me. Rode down 
 
 with Mr. F in his buggy to see Mr. O. D. 
 
 F . Found him in his office — in the rear of a 
 
 large tinware store on Main street. I call it his 
 office, because the room contains a large desk, on 
 one side, where a book-keeper was busy over the 
 ledgers, although the other side was occupied by a 
 work bench, at which the old gentleman was trim- 
 ming up tin scraps when we entered. The scraps 
 he handled were the remains of tin plate, out of 
 which various patterns had been cut, but that had 
 not been used up entirely. He cut away the worth- 
 less corners and strips and saved such portions as 
 were of sufficient size to be turned to use. After the 
 introduction, which did not interrupt his work, I 
 asked him what became of the rejected trimmings. 
 
 "They are hauled out into the sink holes and waste 
 places of the town," he replied. 
 
 "It's a pity that they should go to waste, but per- 
 haps unavoidable at present," I remarked. 
 
 "But what could we do with them? You see, I 
 save what I can!" he said, and rested as if for an 
 answer. 
 
 "They are tin and iron," said I, "and in much better 
 condition for use than any we can find in nature. 
 They only lack the form, the proper shape. This can 
 be restored much easier than we can go and dig 
 the iron and tin ore out of the bowels of the earth; 
 reduce them into metals and then give them the 
 shape we want. These are metals already and need 
 
 not to be dug out of the mine, nor reduced from the 
 ore." 
 
 This led to a long conversation, and I was much 
 struck with the clearness and prevision of the man's 
 thoughts. He has a very strong face, cleanly chiseled, 
 of the best Connecticut type; brow and nose promi- 
 nent; forehead slightly receding; eyes penetrating, 
 with a steady, calm expression; the mouth not heavy; 
 lips firm, but with a feminine contour, increased by 
 a cleanly shaved and handsomely formed chin; a 
 lovely man, at one with himself and with the world. 
 
 July 9. 1856. 
 
 Spent the greater part of the day with Miss Eliza- 
 beth. Went earlier than usual and found everybody 
 gone except herself and youngest sister, Jessie, about 
 twelve years old. The rest of the family had gone 
 to spend the day with a friend, in the northern part 
 of the city. After dinner Jessie got permission to 
 play with some of her neighbors and we kept house 
 by ourselves. When Elizabeth got through with her 
 work, she came in and sat down by me. 
 
 "Henry," said she, "I am glad we have an oppor- 
 tunity to talk a little without a crowd around us. I 
 have been wanting to tell you something that you 
 ought to know, but never had a chance, and now that 
 I have, I hardly Know how to begin." 
 
 I attempted to kiss her, but she evaded me, and 
 went on: "That is just it. You love me and I love 
 you, and from day to day we allow our feelings to 
 grow more and more domineering, without looking 
 to the right or to the left, just as if we were alone 
 in the world, or the world belonged to us!" 
 
 "Doesn't it, dearest? Or suppose it doesn't, who 
 cares, so you are mine?" 
 
 "So you are mine, dear Henry, my heart echoes. 
 But to see the conditions under which alone this 
 claim, so modest on your part, can be realized — to see 
 them! Oh, that they stood before you as they sur- 
 round me! Then it would not be necessary for me 
 to undergo this ordeal!" 
 
 After some kind words from me she regained com- 
 posure and went on. 
 
 "You know how happy our home was when you 
 left us in New York; and oh, how miserable, how 
 terrible is it now!" 
 
 Again her feelings overcame her and some time 
 passed before she could control her voice. 
 
 "Shortly after you left, you remember, Jessie, our 
 baby, was about two years old. Mother was con- 
 fined, prematurely, as I afterwards learned. She was 
 very low and we all expected her to die, but she 
 lived — if a worse than living death may be called life. 
 During her illness the doctors used opiates, and she 
 left her bed a craving, raving specter for the drug; 
 no means so vile but what she resorted and will 
 resort to them to gratify her appetite. 
 
 "Father, who idolized her — for you remember she 
 was a beautiful woman — used every means except 
 harshness to reclaim her, but without effect. At 
 last he thought of depriving her of the means by 
 
54 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 putting the housekeeping into my hands. It did no 
 good; made bad worse; for he soon found that an 
 attractive woman cannot be deprived of the means 
 to gratify an all-consuming passion as long as she 
 has the resources of a large city and personal 
 freedom at her disposal. When he discovered the 
 actual condition in which he found himself and his 
 little ones, it deprived him of all control of himself. 
 Night after night I have heard him moan in his 
 bed — for we were huddled all in the same room, 
 together — until one evening some months after, he 
 came home apparently happy. But I soon found he 
 was drunk. 
 
 "That night I could not sleep, and weeks and 
 months came that I could not live through now. At 
 last, to keep our little sisters alive, we, Johnny and 
 myself, went to an uncle, my mother's brother, who 
 lived up in Bloomingdale, and told him the situation. 
 But it was too late to save my father. Uncle furn- 
 ished the means to bring us to this place, and here, 
 for a year or so, until mother became acquainted, it 
 looked like we might live without feeling ashamed 
 to meet a human being on the street. 
 
 "I keep house for father with what Johnny, sisters 
 and I can earn, and a portion of that even goes to 
 mother, to keep her from the street." 
 
 She ended, and covered her face with her hands 
 I drew her closely to me and said: 
 
 "All this, dearest, I did not know, but part of it I 
 surmised. Father's weakness became known to me 
 within an hour after I found him here, but I did not 
 know the cause and how much he deserves our 
 sympathy. It was one of the reasons that induced 
 me not to accept the job offered to me in his shop. 
 "But what has all this to do with my love for you 
 and your love for me? I knew you and your parents 
 before they were destroyed by man, who seem to 
 enjoy the privilege of following this as a legitimate 
 vocation. I knew you and them, and a more beauti- 
 ful home, graced with love, with mutual trust, with 
 contentment and with all the virtues that adorn a 
 Christian home, in the best sense of the term, I 
 have not seen under the sun. It was in this atmos- 
 phere of family purity and piety that you were born 
 and raised up to budding womanhood. Since then 
 you have seen the reverse, what it is, what it means, 
 what it ends in. To know this harms no one. To 
 see the mire, to realize its depth of misery, by 
 seeing the sprawling victims in their agony, this is 
 no harm; but to be drawn in ourselves, or to be 
 spattered with its filth, there alone lies the danger." 
 "But how are you to avoid that," she answered, 
 "when the victims are your parents? How are you 
 to preserve your good name, when those from whom 
 you inherit it render it a by-word and a shame in the 
 community?" 
 
 "The name itself is much, but not all. It is not 
 yourself. It is you whom I love and not your name, 
 and no one can say to me that you are not worthy of 
 that love but yourself. My heart is not debauched. 
 It asks no indorsement for the object of its love 
 
 from the community at large; you alone can convince 
 it of error." 
 
 "I am worthy of it, Henry," she said, rising to her 
 feet. "And as long as water will drown and opium 
 kill, I shall remain worthy of it. There is nothing in 
 life or death that can make me a thing to loathe — to 
 loathe myself. Death is no bugbear to me. For years 
 he has been my only friend. T can protect you,' 
 he has whispered, when all else seemed leagued 
 against me — even to her who brought me into the 
 world. 
 
 " 'Tis sweet to love and to be loved as you love 
 me. 'Tis the one ray of light that has struck my 
 path; but can I hope, dare I to hope, that it will 
 broaden into daylight? Henry, I can not leave my 
 father in his misfortune! Now you know all!" 
 
 I drew her again to me and said: "No, dearest, 
 you can not leave your father in his misery; but what 
 then? That will not last forever. He is literally 
 committing suicide; intentionally killing himself. We 
 can not help; we will mitigate. I claim a share in 
 this until it ends; and then, our last duty done — " 
 
 "Then, Henry, I will be your wife, your servant, 
 your anything — but I must be with you, see you, 
 love you, must be yours, all, all yours and you all 
 mine." 
 
 Our arms were entwined about each other and we 
 were lost, lost in the blissful revery of mutual aflfec- 
 tion. After a long silence — how long I know not — 
 I recovered myself. 
 
 "Dearest," I said, "we njust consult about your 
 affairs. You told me that you keep house on what 
 Johnny, yourself and sisters earn. How much 
 is it that Mary earns a week?" 
 
 "Sometimes as high as three dollars, and Annie 
 earns two; but Jessie goes to school." 
 
 "Do they work at home?" 
 
 "Yes, they bring the work home and I help as I 
 can, but it does not amount to much." 
 
 "Now, suppose I pay Mary the three dollars a 
 week which she earns and you take her and let her 
 do the housework — you, of course, attending to the 
 management of the expenses, and so on. By degrees 
 you teach her how to attend to that, too, and so 
 raise a substitute for yourself. Then if anything 
 happens to father, or we should find it more conven- 
 ient for him to live with us, the rest of the family 
 will not be out of doors." 
 
 "I can do that, Henry, without you paying any- 
 thing. I had never thought of it. I can earn as 
 much as Mary and more, too, only I don't want to 
 go for the work and take it back. But I can manage 
 that. 
 
 "I knew you would find out some way if you only 
 knew my situation. But it was so hard for me to let 
 anybody else see what I have borne so long; Johnny, 
 you know, pays no attention to anything. He does 
 his work, brings me his earnings and seems neither 
 to know nor to care about what becomes of us. But 
 I have somebody now, that I can talk to, and, dear- 
 est, it is such a relief." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 55 
 
 I bade her "good-bye," without forgetting anything, 
 either. 
 
 July 10, 1856. 
 
 Received pay to-day without the Fourth of July 
 being deducted. Worked on the new centers, finished 
 
 the oven doors for Mr. W , and asked him to 
 
 send me the back of the same stove. And so the 
 work is growing under my hands. 
 
 Have been able to do but little with my books, 
 especially since Miss Elizabeth read me that chapter 
 from her life! 
 
 How strange it is. The man, whom I knew all 
 kindliness of heart, who reached me his hand, me, 
 a stranger in a strange land, destitute of friends, rela- 
 tives, acquaintances, of means to meet my daily 
 wants, of words even, of language to make them 
 known — me, he took by the hand, gave me the secrets 
 of his craft, took me to his house, to breathe the 
 atmosphere of love and kindness; from the great 
 world, all dark, from its icy air of self-preservation, 
 he brought me to his family hearth; thawed me out 
 into human life by its genial flame, fed by the re- 
 sults of his own incessant toil; and to-day that 
 hearth, gray ashes and shapeless cinders; its shining 
 gods black demons of soot and rust, glaring in 
 mockery at the one gleaming spot that, despite ashes, 
 cinders, soot and rust, marks the place of its desola- 
 tion. That hand that grasped mine and placed in it 
 a craft that turned to gold, trembles with the palsy 
 of excess, and I, I can not even reach it, to steady 
 its shattered nerves! How much was he to me, how 
 little can I be to him. And why? Because he is no 
 more himself. His life's tap root was cut, his heart's 
 core was gnawed out by a hideous worm. 
 
 He loved his wife. He lived in and for her. Toil 
 was sweet because for her. Privation was abund- 
 ance so she was supplied. And all said "it is well." 
 Old and young said so — ancients and moderns, priests 
 and laymen. But this, even this, it was that de- 
 stroyed him! 
 
 And is there nothing then in life, however exalted 
 the aim, however pure the motive, no comfort, no 
 blessing but what may become a curse? No, not one, 
 except the contemplation of eternal truth! 
 
 'Tis sweet to lose myself in the eyes of my be- 
 loved; to float in aimless reverie of bliss by her side, 
 her hand in mine; to drink the sweet breath of her 
 warm lips deep into my heart, but the bell tolls and 
 time, it is no 'more. Above that sound, beyond Into 
 the empyrean, or I, like it shall vanish in the limit- 
 less elasticity of the inane! 
 
 July II, 1856. 
 
 I have recommenced my annual course in Hegel's 
 "Logic." It is a strange book and attractive to me, on 
 account of its noiselessness. Whenever the world 
 within or without commences to brawl so loudly that 
 I cannot hear my own voice, I take a journey into the 
 realm of this primeval solitude. I sometimes think 
 it is a great pity that the man did not live to-day, 
 
 Or at least at a time when the railroad facilities were 
 far enough developed to show him what a book 
 ought to be for man when he travels by steam. As 
 it is, I don't know of a single chapter, page or para- 
 graph that can be read and understood in passing 
 by it at the moderate rate of speed of, say, forty miles 
 an hour, no matter how large the letters might be 
 made, or how long the fence to give room for their 
 display. Yet, even in his day, it was known that a 
 book should be written in such a manner "That he 
 who runs may read," and the circumstance that we 
 do our study, not while running, but while rushing 
 along, leaves us necessarily in a condition the more 
 seriously to regret that he did not comply with the 
 canons of his art, as calculated for his own day and 
 generation. Had he done so, there can be no doubt, 
 when the superior sagacity of ourselves is duly con- 
 sidered, that the increased speed, the haste at which 
 we have arrived, would have been no detriment to the 
 general usefulness of the book. As it is, I fear it 
 never will be of much value as a source of popular 
 entertainment. 
 
 I have heard it said that it is owing to the theme, 
 the subject treated, that the work is so obscure; that 
 here are subjects, like the integral and differential 
 calculus, for example, that refuse to be treated in 
 such a way as to become popular reading — or to 
 give up their information to the general public at 
 first glance. As to that, of course, I do not pretend 
 to judge. But it does seem to me that if there is a 
 theme in nature, art or science that ought to be 
 popular, that ought to be thoroughly familiar to every- 
 body, it is the one treated in this book; for it treats 
 of nothing but human knowing — knowing, the pecu- 
 liarity that distinguishes man from the brute. That 
 is the only subject it touches upon, and it treats of 
 that, not in its idiosyncracies, not as it is developed 
 in this or that individual, but as this universal char- 
 acteristic, as the very essence of all men, as that 
 which makes man what he is — man. 
 
 Why, then, is this not the most popular of themes — ■ 
 seeing that each one of us has within himself the 
 entire material treated of? 
 
 Or, is it true that we live habitually out of doors 
 and are strangers nowhere so much as in our own 
 house? 
 
 The knowing, thought, reason may be occupied 
 with a variety of objects — with objects derived from 
 the senses, from the emotions or from reflection; but 
 in logic it deals with itself, with its own products 
 alone, and the knowing that results, free from all 
 foreign content, is therefore called a "pure" knowing. 
 The products of thought which it investigates, while 
 at first glance they may appear formal and empty, 
 are nevertheless in their totality the ultimate pre- 
 supposition of every mental operation. They are 
 the products of the human mind, as contradis- 
 tinguished from the individual mind — of the human 
 mind in its universality. They form the ground 
 work, the foundation of all communication, associa- 
 tion and co-operation of man with man; and all the 
 
S6 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 achievements in science and art, whether applied or 
 ideal, are butt the tangible and visible results of those 
 invisible powers. They give continuity to human 
 endeavor, and enable the present to strike its roots 
 deep into the spiritual alluvium of the past. To in- 
 vestigate them in their simplicity; to define each in 
 its sphere; to exhibit the law of their genesis, and 
 thus reveal their self-consistent totality — this is the 
 object which the author sought to attain.. 
 
 July 12, 1856. ' 
 
 I was thinking to-day about the importance of the 
 object mentioned in my last note, but upon looking 
 around, I see nothing to compare it with. It either 
 has all the importance there is, or none. Then it 
 occurred to me that it might be wise to consider 
 whether it was possible of attainment. But to find 
 out something about the knowing, without knowing, 
 would be to know without knowledge — a trick too 
 difficult for me. I do not know how it might be 
 with "Dogberry, of the watch," but as for me I can 
 not turn it. 
 
 "Man know thyself" was at one time regarded as 
 a divine command. But for man to know all about 
 himself except the knowing would be to know all 
 about himself as a beast, not as man — if the knowing 
 is that which distinguishes him from the beast. For 
 the knowmg to know itself must therefore be re- 
 garded as the only adequate compliance with this 
 mandate. 
 
 If I reflect upon this theme several propositions 
 that never occurred to me before become at once 
 self-evident. If the knowing investigates itself, its 
 own products and their genesis, it is evident that in 
 so doing it relates itself to itself; for it investigates 
 itself, not some other objects. Again, it is also evi- 
 dent that in this occupation the knowing determines 
 itself, as there is no other than itself to aflfect its 
 activity. It subpoenas before it the universal prod- 
 ucts of the human mind, and by virtue of its own in- 
 herent universality, recognizes them as its own. In 
 determining this content it therefore determines itself, 
 not as this or that individual, whose intelligence is 
 clouded by this or that interest, passion or presup- 
 position, but as vital humanity — the individual domi- 
 nated by his inherent universality, the individual as 
 man; for it is only in this attitude that he participates 
 in the thought of the race, the results of which he 
 proposes to investigate. 
 
 Again, the results obtained will sustain a different 
 relation to the objects investigated than the results 
 from mental operations where the object is any other 
 than the knowing — as. for example, in simple con- 
 sciousness. In that sphere of knowing it is suffi- 
 cient that the result, the mental determination, cor- 
 respond with the object, in order that it may have 
 the value of truth, but here it must necessarily be 
 identical with its object before it can have any value 
 or validity; for it is the knowing that investigates the 
 knowing. The result can therefore only be true 
 when the knowing knows itself — is identical with 
 
 itself. Then, in the sensuous consciousness the men- 
 tal operation can not be corrected. There i= no 
 facility for comparing the sense determination with 
 the object, and thus ascertain their correspondence 
 beyond a doubt. The results are therefore affected 
 with more or less relativity. But here the object 
 itself, the knowing, is the ever present critic, to 
 determine the sufficiency of its own expression or 
 embodiment, and the results, therefore, are capable of 
 being ascertained with absolute certainty. 
 
 Then again, the criterion of truth for simple con- 
 sciousness fails to certify to the truth of existence. 
 Coming down the street I see a hump-backed, knock- 
 kneed dwarf; behind him, a splendid specimen of 
 manhood, with the fully developed form of an Apollo. 
 Now, which is the man and which is the dwarf? My 
 mental determination of the one is as perfect as of 
 the other, and therefore, according to this criterion, 
 for all that it can tell me, the one is as true an 
 existence as the other. 
 
 But, the question grants the correctness of the 
 mental determinations involved, and asks, is the ob- 
 ject presented by them true? It is the truth of the 
 existence itself, whether it is a true embodiment of 
 the idea, of the intelligence, that is presented by the 
 sensuous consciousness — it is this, the truth which 
 enables us to distinguish between the abortions of 
 nature and art and the true embodiments of either, 
 that the question seeks to ascertain. But this cannot 
 be answered by the sensuous consciousness repeating 
 "The object is as represented!" To answer this ques- 
 tion the consciousness elevates itself to a higher 
 plane. The intelligence interviews itself, its own 
 determinations of the object, and by comparing with 
 them the given presentation of sense, it determines 
 whether the latter is a true embodiment or an abor- 
 tion. But, even in this occupation, the highest phase 
 of the knowing in practical life and general literature, 
 it is not in simple relation with itself. It is still oc- 
 cupied with an object derived, partly at least, from 
 without. It compares its own products with another, 
 and although it determines this other, through its 
 own products as criterion, still the result can only 
 be a correspondence and not identity. But in the 
 investigation under consideration, the knowing con- 
 siders these its criterion, its own products, in their 
 ultimate elements, separate and apart from the 
 others; these principles, through which it determines 
 the other, themselves are the objects of investigation 
 and identity and not mere correspondence is the 
 criterion of the validity of the results. 
 
 Again, if in this investigation the knowing relates 
 itself to itself, then the mediation involved, and 
 such there must be, if the genes<s of the results is 
 to be rendered apparent, must necessarily be self- 
 mediation — the knowing, mediating itself, with and 
 through itself; for it has no other from whom or 
 from which it can derive its own products. 
 
 But mediation, in the prevailing logic, means the 
 mental process involved by which it is rendered ap- 
 parent that from a given proposition some other 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 57 
 
 proposition follows. The last proposition is derived 
 from another, through another, the mental opera- 
 tion; and self-mediation is specifically excluded as 
 vicious, as reasoning in a circle. According to this 
 view, then, our investigation can only result in con- 
 clusions destitute of validity. 
 
 But it must be remembered that the prevailing 
 logic is itself the product of the knowing determi- 
 ning itself, of self-mediation. Aristotle did not in- 
 vestigate sticks and stones in order to discover the 
 rules of syllogistic reasoning, as it is called, but the 
 knowing as it presented itself in his day, and 
 especially from its discursive side. Nor did he 
 employ aught else but his own knowing in the in- 
 vestigation. Hence the result of that investigation, 
 the prevailing logic, is itself the product of self- 
 mediation, and any conclusions drawn from its rules 
 against the validity of the self-mediation of thought 
 invalidates them themselves. Such conclusions only 
 indicate that the science that purports to give the 
 laws of the activity which results in knowing is 
 itself incomplete. 
 
 This view is strengthened if we look at other 
 spheres of knowing. In the investigations of what 
 is usually called inorganic nature, or the material 
 world, mediation still means, in accordance with this 
 logic, the antecedent phase of the process which pro- 
 duces the event or thing to be explained — that is to 
 say, the derivation of the event or thing from another 
 through another. As a result of this knowing we 
 have "inorganic nature" — that is to say, our knowl- 
 edge of nature is inorganic. But self-mediation 
 means the derivation of the object from itself through 
 itself. Applied to nature, it means the process of 
 organization and disintegration, through which it or 
 any one of its organic systems perpetuates Itself. 
 Under this view the isolated event or thing is not 
 explained by being derived from another event or 
 thing, but only when comprehended as a necessary 
 phase, part or member of the totality to which it 
 belongs. The knowing, which derives the thing from 
 another, while perfectly legitimate, as simplifying the 
 problem, is therefore but a partial compliance with 
 the demand of reason, which refuses to recognize 
 the knowing as complete, as possessed of validity 
 and value, unless it has penetrated its object so as 
 to see that object as a self-mediated totality — as it 
 has done, for example, in the case of the mechanical 
 process of the solar system. 
 
 Another peculiarity of the results of this investi- 
 gation is that they are not results, in the usual 
 sense of that term — not at least insofar as the mind 
 associates with that term the meaning of finality. 
 For in this knowing, if it has to penetrate its object, 
 which is itself, so as to see it as a self-mediated 
 totality, each step in that mediation must be a result 
 and premise at the same time — result, conclusion 
 from a preceding, and premise for a succeeding 
 result; and while distinct from both it also contains 
 both; the preceding explicitly, the succeeding im- 
 plicitly; the preceding in its fully developed form as 
 
 result, revealed and present to the knowing, and 
 therefore extant for it; the succeeding implicitly, 
 that is to say, potentially, but not as yet extant in 
 fully developed form for the knowing. 
 
 Thus the knowing to be investigated possesses 
 within it, in itself, potentially, all the results which 
 the investigation will develop, but it does not possess 
 them as results. As' such it will possess them only 
 at the end of the investigation, when it will be con- 
 scious of them, and thus self-conscious knowing, 
 self-conscious intelligence. And thus, what the know- 
 ing is in itself at the beginning will be extant and 
 for it at the end, through it, through its own media- 
 tion, the investigation. Thus the knowing, the im- 
 mediate consciousness by virtue of its own inherent, 
 its potential self-consciousness, realizes itself through 
 the investigation as self-conscious intelligence. 
 
 July 13, 1856. 
 - came to see me to-day, very much 
 
 Mr. W— 
 elated. 
 
 "You know what it amounts to, Henry?" said he. 
 "I mean the iron you have taken out of the No. 6 
 stove?" 
 
 "Between thirty-eight and forty pounds," said I, 
 "according to my figures." 
 
 "Forty pounds and three ounces. That is twenty 
 ton in a thousand, not counting the odd ounces, and 
 a thousand ton of iron saved in fifty thousand stoves. 
 We will make more than fifty thousand from that 
 pattern. Then count the difference in handling and 
 the freight on them and you see it is a nice thing 
 for the shop. And the old gentleman says, and 
 there is no better judge in the world, that the stove 
 will last better and do better service than it did 
 before. 
 
 "These are the figures that Mr. F gave to 
 
 Mr. S , the secretary, the smart-aleck in the 
 
 oflFice; and Mr. F asked him what he thought 
 
 of the trivial thing now." 
 
 Had a visit from Jochen and made him eat dinner 
 with me — dinner of my own cooking. Brought me 
 kind words from his wife, little Yetta and Henry, 
 with a reminder that I had promised to spend Sun- 
 day at their house. 
 
 July 14, 1856. 
 
 Read over my note on the study of logic and see 
 nothing in it to change, even if it was to be read by 
 everybody. For what does it amount to but this, 
 that if the knowing investigates itself, it in so doing 
 relates itself to itself, it mediates and finally de- 
 termines itself. Nobody can deny that. Then, as 
 to the knowing being at the bottom of all human 
 affairs and achievements, I don't think that anybody 
 can question that either; certainly not, if he has ever 
 done as much as to mold a skillet, or raise a hill of 
 potatoes, or a row of beans. From these, ordinarily 
 regarded as very humble undertakings, up to the 
 founding and building up of an empire, which we 
 as a people are doing to-day, there is not a move 
 made, not a finger or foot stirred in the right direc- 
 
58 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 tion, but is and must be guided by intelligence. 
 Every worker in his place must know how to do his 
 part, before the work can succeed. 
 
 While this is quite obvious, it is also true that the 
 kind of knowing involved in these affairs differs in 
 some respects from the knowing referred to in my 
 note of yesterday — that is to say, from the knowing 
 that will result from an investigation of the know- 
 ing; for this will be a knowing of the knowing, a 
 knowing conscious of itself, a self-conscious know- 
 ing; while the knowing investigated is the simple 
 knowing of immediate consciousness. As the latter 
 directs the hand how to do, so the former directs the 
 immediate consciousness how to know. It is this 
 peculiarity of self-conscious intelligence that with- 
 draws it largely from the public eye, and covers up 
 its workings from the scrutiny of journalistic review 
 and supervision. 
 
 But what are the inevitable conditions under which 
 the one is transformed into the other? What are the 
 conditions under which the simple, the immediate 
 knowing of consciousness is transformed into self- 
 conscious intelligence? What is the law that governs 
 this transformation, the investigation under con- 
 sideration? 
 
 To become conscious of an object, the knowing 
 must determine that object; to determine means, 
 first of all, that it must distinguish the object from 
 the mind itself and from every other object. With- 
 out this condition having been complied with, there 
 is no object, no distinct object before the mind, the 
 knowing or the consciousness. There is no evad- 
 ing of this condition. It is inherent; it is absolute. 
 Hence, if the mind is to become conscious of itself, 
 the knowing a knowing of itself, the simple con- 
 sciousness self-conscious intelligence, it must de- 
 termine itself the same as any other object — that is, 
 it must distinguish itself from itself and from every 
 other object. This is the first step in the process — 
 a compliance with the first condition. 
 
 The next step is, that in cognizing this object, thus 
 determined, the knowing cancels this determination; 
 for it cognizes the object as itself — that is, as not dis- 
 tinguished from itself. These are the inevitable con- 
 ditions of self-conscious activity, and the fountain, 
 the source of all determination; the primitive diremp- 
 tion no less than the final return into identity with 
 itself, of the energy of the pure knowing. 
 
 To become self-conscious, therefore, means for the 
 consciousness to become an object to itself. To do 
 this the consciousness must dirempt itself and de- 
 termine the results of this diremption, the one from 
 the other. The activity of diremption and the de- 
 termining of the results by which this relation is 
 established are one act, which when viewed in its 
 effect upon the preceding entirety or oneness of con- 
 sciousness; is negation, in that it negates that one- 
 ness. Again, the consciousness before the diremption 
 is universal totality, and the dirempting together 
 with the determining thereof, the negation of this 
 totality, are its own act. Hence consciousness as 
 
 totality is universal negativity, while in self-con- 
 sciousness we have universal negativity relating it- 
 self to itself. 
 
 It contains both consciousness and the determina- 
 tions thereof; but the latter, not as yet consciously; 
 for self-consciousness is not as yet self-conscious 
 intelligence. To become such it must SEE that it 
 contains consciousness and its determinations. For 
 self-consciousness to see that it contains both means 
 not merely that it includes them, but this seeing is 
 itself the comprehending activity which sees and in- 
 cludes at one and the same time. This activity of 
 seeing is the process of mediation through which 
 the simple consciousness, that knows that there ARE 
 things, elevates itself through self-consciousness into 
 self-conscious intelligence, into reason, that compre- 
 hends what consciousness knows. 
 
 The main steps, phases or elements in the process 
 through which self-conscious intelligence realizes 
 itself are: 
 
 First, the diremption, the diremption of itself by 
 consciousness. This is the first determination. The 
 simple negation of its oneness, of the wholeness of 
 consciousness, of its immediateness. 
 
 Second, the process of mediation posited by this 
 negation, which results in the negating of the nega- 
 tion, through the perfect interpenetration of its ele- 
 ments by the intelligence, identifying them as or 
 with itself by comprehending them, and thus restor- 
 ing itself to 'Self-consistent oneness not as conscious- 
 ness, with an object other than itself, but as self- 
 conscious intelligence that is and comprehends itself 
 as its own object. 
 
 Thus pure immediateness by negating itself posits 
 mediation; and mediation by negating this negation 
 posits immediateness — but immediateness as result. 
 This result is the knowing that comprehends itself — 
 pure self-conscious intelligence. The process, our 
 investigation, is the becoming of this result, the real- 
 ization of this knowing; and consciously followed, 
 that is, subjected to the conditions adduced, it is the 
 method of Hegel — the mode of action of self-con- 
 sciousness itself in its activity of realizing itself as 
 self-conscious intelligence. 
 
 July 15, 1856. 
 
 In summing up my note of yesterday I have self- 
 relation, self-mediation, self-determination, together 
 with the conditions that govern the mediation, all 
 derived from a mere cursory glance at the nature 
 of the work which the author proposes to himself. 
 But these are the elements that constitute the roots 
 of both, the terminology and the method which he 
 employs in the solution of the problem. The termin- 
 ology is derived from the theme and the method is 
 the embodiment of the law that governs self-con- 
 scious intelligence in its activity of self-realization. 
 
 It is not the fault of Mr. Hegel, or anybody in 
 particular, that in order for self-consciousness to 
 realize itself into self-conscious intelligence, the 
 knowing into a knowing of itself, into reason, it 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 59 
 
 must become self-related, self-mediated, self-de- 
 termined; that it must be in itself before it can be- 
 come extant — before it can be for itself; that it must 
 negate itself as being in itself in order to become 
 extant, to become for others, and that it must negate 
 this negation, this being extant and for others, be- 
 fore it can become for itself pure self-conscious 
 knowing. These are the inherent, the inevitable con- 
 ditions of the problem itself, and not the gratuitous 
 vagaries of the author. The knowing can not evade 
 them. To question them shows a want of reflection 
 upon the problem. 
 
 Suppose the knowing, say I myself undertake to 
 discuss the least one of the questions involved — the 
 question of "what is and what is not?" Some sim- 
 ple-minded fellow, wholly oblivious of the ridiculous, 
 asks me: 
 
 "What do you mean by 'IS?'" 
 
 Having defined what everybody knows, or sup- 
 poses he knows, the simpleton requests further a 
 definition of the terms of the definition. These too 
 having been given, he renews his request, as each 
 successive definition of necessity involves new and 
 undefined terms. I can not evade his questions, for 
 a special law says I must answer; and not until I 
 arrive at the self-defined totality of the content of the 
 knowing will I have complied with the request, to 
 define the terms of my definition. Nay, I will not 
 see the end of this demand unless I remember that 
 it is the knowing defining itself — that it is self- 
 relation, self-mediation, self-determination, which to 
 be true and exhaustive must comply with its own 
 inherent nature, with the law that governs its 
 activity. Silence therefore upon these questions, or a 
 cheerful compliance with this law is the only alter- 
 native for me. 
 
 Have examined Plato and find that this law under- 
 lies what they call his dialectics — that is, the part 
 that treats of the pure categories; for these categor- 
 ies are themselves results and being of self-conscious 
 intelligence, are at once the product and embodiment 
 of its nature. Hence, when thought makes them 
 objects of its activity, and thus vitalizes them, they 
 define themselves as their own opposites; and thus 
 generate and elaborate the elements of a higher syn- 
 thesis, a more perfect expression, a more complete 
 embodiment of the mtelligence. Plato, unconscious 
 of this law, failed to see their genesis, and failing of 
 that, he failed of the logical sequence that dominates 
 their totality. 
 
 It is also this law that underlies the antinomies of 
 Kant; and a want of its appreciation that dictated 
 the remarkable account which that author gives of 
 the content of reason. It is the recognition of this 
 law, and its conscious application to the general con- 
 tent of the knowing, that distinguishes Hegel from 
 the philosophers of the world, and if we understand 
 by that application the derivation of that content 
 from the knowing through its own activity con- 
 sciously subjected to this law, we have Hegel's 
 "Logic," the work that I am studying. 
 
 Plato and some of his predecessors had discovered 
 the peculiar, the dialectical nature of the categories 
 — such as being, nothing, one, many, motion, rest, 
 becoming, ceasing, change, permanence, with the rest 
 —and recogni^.ed them under the names of ideas, as 
 the essence of things. Aristotle, clearer and more 
 comprehensive, had shown that self-determined in- 
 telligence was the only adequate principle for the 
 explanation of the objects that present themselves 
 to our knowing, if for no other reason than that 
 it alone is adequate to explain itself. The Neo- 
 platonist, Proclus, added the insight that the views 
 of Plato and Aristotle were complementary and not 
 antagonistic, as the latter supposed. But neither 
 had inquired into the law that governs self-conscious 
 knowing in its activity, and thus exhibited the neces- 
 sity of the results of that activity; nor had any of 
 their successors and repeaters deemed it necessary 
 to push the inquiry in this direction. 
 
 It is this principle, however, which in its historic 
 development and embodiment has become the power 
 that to-day wields the sovereignty of the earth, and 
 demands obedience from me, either in accordance 
 with, or despite my conviction. To exhibit this 
 principle as a necessary result is to remove from its 
 embodiment the appearance of arbitrariness and to 
 restore to me my freedom through my conviction; 
 for it exhibits that principle and its embodiment as 
 the result of my own rational nature. But when I 
 remember that the embodiment of that principle, the 
 world of institutions, the family, civil society, state 
 and church, the world of mediation, has been created 
 by self-conscious intelligence, and that as such it 
 rests for its vital power upon human conviction; that 
 it performs its function effectually and fully only so 
 far as it is the embodiment of the free conviction of 
 the living as well as of the dead — if I remember this, 
 then the work stands before me in its true significa- 
 tion. 
 
 July i6, 1856. 
 
 There is a matter in regard to the note on the 
 study of logic that has been haunting me all day. 
 I have looked at it since I came home and see that 
 where I touch upon the necessary conditions under 
 which self-conscious intelligence realizes itself, I 
 define consciousness to myself as universal nega- " 
 tivity, in that it dirempts itself and thus negates its 
 immediate oneness or totality. But as this is the 
 final source of all self-determination, it follows that 
 all self-determinations are negations. It also follows 
 that self-consciousness, as it is the relation of con- 
 sciousness to itself, is universal negativity relating 
 itself to itself and therefore in its results, absolute 
 affirmation; for it is universal negativity relating 
 itself to itself, not to another — and that, too, active- 
 ly. It is a process of mediation, of cognizing, 
 through which the primitive negation of conscious- 
 ness is negated. It is through this activity, through 
 which self-consciousness realizes itself into self- 
 conscious intelligence, that the originally negative 
 
bo 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 is transformed into an affirmative result, and the 
 principle becomes evident that all negation is not 
 negative. 
 
 Mr. Hegel illustrates this by the familiar example 
 — not that "two negatives make an affirmative," for 
 that is not true — but, that to negate a negation is 
 affirmation. This, itself abstract illustration, may be 
 further illustrated by observing that ignorance is a 
 determination, a negation. But to negate this nega- 
 tion through the process of culture the result is 
 affirmative-intelligence; a process that ought to be 
 familiar to the pedagogical fraternity; and it will not 
 have escaped their penetration that even the first 
 negation is not in itself reprehensible. The child 
 that comes to them is not punished because it is 
 ignorant. If it were not ignorant, it would not come, 
 and the process of education, of culture, would not 
 exist. It is the nature of this negation to be a 
 deprivitive — to be a part, a fraction, not a whole. As 
 such it does not comprehend itself, but it is still a 
 part of the affirmative, and as such contains or is the 
 process of mediation, the activity which negates it, 
 which turns it into an affirmative result — back into 
 the self-consistent totality. This renders itself 
 tangibly certain to every teacher on pay day, nor is 
 it necessary to trace the result, his pay, back again 
 through the family relation, which it maintains, into 
 the reproduction of the inception of the process, and 
 thus illustrate its perpetuity and the principle as a 
 phase of the process of the universe. 
 
 Again, vice is a determination, a negation; but to 
 negate this negation through the process of moral 
 reformation, the result is affirmative — virtue. ^ 
 
 Thus individuality, individualism, is a determina- 
 tion, a negation; but to negate this negation through 
 the process of life into rational universality, both 
 on the side of intelligence and on the side of the will, 
 the result is affirmative — a free, rational being. 
 
 Nay, the world itself is a determination, a nega- 
 tion; but the negation of this negation through the 
 processes of nature, life and intelligence, the result 
 is affirmative — the in and for itself existing self- 
 conscious intelligence. 
 
 But it is not merely this side, the return into self- 
 consistency, into harmony with itself, it is also the 
 other side, the diremption, the self-determination 
 of consciousness, the becoming no less than the 
 return, that is revealed in the law. It is the simultan- 
 eous operation of both of these sides that gives us 
 the self-perpetuating process of the universe. 
 
 According to arrangement, we, that is Elizabeth 
 and I, met Jochen on the other side of the river 
 this morning at 6 o'clock. This saved the paying 
 of fare for the team. By 7, we sat down to break- 
 fast with Feeka, and Elizabeth had to relate our 
 ride behind Jochen's colts — an experience rather 
 new to her. I had expected that we would go to 
 church, but found that the minister preached at a 
 place called Horse Prairie, a settlement too far for 
 us to reach; so after we were through at table, Feeka 
 told us, that is, Jochen and me, we might go where 
 
 we pleased; that she and Elizabeth did not need us 
 to keep house. This was what Jochen wanted, and 
 taking me upstairs he soon had me dressed for the 
 woods. He had brought out my gun from the city 
 some days before. We started in to kill squirrels, 
 "berry thieves," as Jochen calls them, "only on Sun- 
 day, however," but flushing some wood-cock by 
 accident, I confined my attention to them exclusively. 
 The young birds, just right for the griddle, were in 
 excellent condition. 
 
 When Jochen had killed a handsome bunch of 
 squirrels, he came over to where I was shooting, in 
 some willow brush, and wanted to know whether 
 I was killing "slough squakers." I showed him the 
 birds, when he cried out, "Ha, ha! I have got 
 somebody that can see you. You don't dodge him, 
 do you! Say, Henry, I know a place a little farther 
 up the slough, near the head of it, yonder, where we 
 can get them. Just come. They are good; but I 
 can never see them." 
 
 As he was crashing through the willows in the 
 direction indicated, he flushed a bird, and being on 
 the alert, for the ground was good, I dropped it be- 
 fore it had got fairly above the brush. 
 
 "That's the way," cried Jochen, "is it? You don't 
 hunt them on the ground at all!" 
 
 I explained that it would be almost impossible to 
 see them on the ground unless they should be in 
 motion. 
 
 After we got to the head of the slough, we found 
 the birds fairly abundant, and by using Jochen as a 
 beater I soon had a fine bag. Here too I found a 
 deer crossing; the variety of tracks indicated that it 
 was used by quite a number. On inquiring of Jochen, 
 he told me that he had seen as high as ten and 
 twelve in a gang. 
 
 "But you must have a rifle," said he, "an American 
 gun, to kill them. Judge Blake, he is the man for 
 them, and he told me it takes a 'blue pill,' a ball — 
 that is the salt for their tail." 
 
 We now turned towards home and struck the 
 clearing, near an oats field, where we killed some 
 more squirrels. Here Jochen came very near getting 
 angry with me because I didn't "blaze" into a 
 brood of young turkeys, that had been feeding in the 
 field, and sought cover by flying over us at the report 
 of the first gun in their vicinity. 
 
 "But I will get them thieves yet!" he consoled him- 
 self. 
 
 "Yes, you just wait until they are big enough to 
 kill and we will make them pay for every grain of 
 oats and wheat they have stolen," said I. 
 
 "Tell me, are there many of them?" 
 
 "Enough," said he, "to make it a grab game be- 
 tween them, the geese and ducks and myself, who 
 shall have the crop. If I didn't gather my corn as 
 soon as it is ripe, there would not be a nubbin left 
 by the time winter sets in. You see it is not so bad 
 now, for there is nothing here except the ducks 
 that breed here, the wood-duck and teal, with now 
 and then a green-head; but just wait until October 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 6i 
 
 and November, when they come from the north, and 
 then see! Bless you, Henry, you would think some- 
 times the whole earth was covered with ducks and 
 geese. Let a snow storm come in November and 
 then look out!" 
 
 On reaching the house I took, or rather kept, 
 charge of the game, and with little Yetta and Henry 
 went down to the wash place, on the creek and 
 dressed it to suit myself. When I took it to the 
 kitchen, Feeka called Jochen and said: 
 
 "See, Jochen, that is what I call nice! You never 
 bring in your game in that condition!" 
 
 "Yes, yes! Feeka," replied Jochen, "but you al- 
 ways talk so much when I shoot anything on Sun- 
 day that I am afraid to clean it, too, for fear I'd 
 break the Sabbath all to pieces!" 
 
 "Oh yes; of course! You are too pious to clean 
 the game you kill; of course, too pious; I know!" 
 
 The largest amount of comfort with the least 
 exertion — using the word comfort in the large sense 
 as including food, shelter against the elements, with 
 protection against enemies — and you have the law 
 that governs the distribution of fish, insect, bird and 
 animal over the earth. Each lives where life is 
 cheapest. To find any given kind, ascertain what 
 constitutes its chief comfort at the time you want 
 to find it. Then go to the place where these com- 
 forts are and you will meet with the fish, insect, 
 bird or animal you are looking for. 
 
 In accordance with this law, our buffalo starts in 
 the spring of the year from his winter quarters, on 
 the Red River of the south or beyond. He finds the 
 grasses sweetest, more to his taste, on the northern 
 belt of his feeding ground, and as this moves with 
 advancing spring, he follows until both arrive at the 
 headwaters of the Arkansas and the Red River of the 
 north. Here he spends some weeks, or a month 
 perhaps, until one morning a stiff "norther" climbs 
 up the valley of the latter stream, from the direction 
 of Hudson Bay. It is chilly. He turns and walks 
 before it to keep warm. By noon it is comfortable 
 and he loafs about, occupied with social affairs. But 
 the next morning, or the next, the same exercise has 
 to be repeated, increased with the increasing severity 
 of the season, until he reaches his winter quarters, 
 whence he started. 
 
 The same is true of all the migratory birds — swans, 
 cranes, pelicans, geese, ducks, plover, snipe, rail, 
 wood-cock, their associates and dependents. They 
 migrate up and down the Mississippi valley, in ac- 
 cordance with the same law, using the main rivers 
 of the system, the Missouri and the Mississippi, as 
 their lines of advance or retreat; and at the same 
 time as sources of food and safety. Indeed, the 
 basin of the Mississippi and its affluents, from the 
 different sources of the latter to the mouth of the 
 former, including an area of not less than thirty 
 thousand square miles, and extending through 
 twenty-five degrees of latitude, practically on the 
 same meridian, is the habitat of these birds, and 
 what particular part of that habitat they occupy at a 
 
 given time is determined by the law in question. 
 Now, if we consider that this valley is the final 
 receptacle of the exhausted flora and fauna of the 
 area of this system of drainage, that not a drop of 
 rain falls upon these extensive plains and mountain 
 sides but what is transformed into a vessel freighted 
 with the remains of plant, insect, bird and animal, to 
 be borne down to this, the continental grave-yard 
 of organic existence, we obtain some conception of 
 the humus aggregated, the luxuriant fertility prevail- 
 ing, and the consequent paradisical condition of the 
 home of these birds, the so-called "wanderers of the 
 sky." Their numbers cease to be a marvel if we 
 remember these facts; and then if we see them col- 
 lected, in obedience to the law indicated, under the 
 stress of some sudden meteorological change, into a 
 small area of their habitat, we can understand why 
 "the whole earth seems to be covered with ducks 
 and geese!" 
 
 While at table I asked Jochen how he managed to 
 escape the malarial troubles, as I did not see any 
 indications of the prevailing curse of the valley, 
 chills and fever, in his family. 
 
 "Well, Henry, you know old Doctor Swinitz? 
 You remember him from the old country?" 
 
 "Yes, what of him?" 
 
 "He died in your room, upstairs. Killed himself 
 with whisky and some stuff that he took; some white 
 powder. He always had it in a small, wide-mouthed 
 bottle — a kind of white powder. You see, he went 
 to the dogs in town; and he asked me to let him 
 stay here when he got so he couldn't do anything; 
 and I brought him home with me one day. He 
 didn't last long but he taught me and Feeka before 
 he died how to keep from having the shakes. He 
 gave me — -" 
 
 "He gave you quinine, I suppose." 
 
 "That is it, Henry, quinine! When April comes, 
 and we get warm days with cold nights, we take five 
 grains, each of us, on going to bed at night, and two 
 when we get up in the morning. It don't make any 
 difference if we don't feel sick; we take it anyhow. 
 We do this until June, and then we quit until the 
 cold nights commence in the latter part of August. 
 Then we commence again and take it until frost 
 'sets in. We also sleep upstairs, all of us; and when 
 the dews are very heavy, Feeka makes a little fire 
 in the chimney before we go to bed. That is all we 
 do and we have not paid a dime to a doctor since 
 old Swinitz died — since he told us how to get along 
 without him." 
 
 "And you say the old doctor died here, in this 
 country?" 
 
 "Yes, in the room overhead, as I told you. He 
 got to laying about in those coffee houses, as they 
 call them, playing dominoes and cards and drinking 
 whisky; and that is the reason Feeka made me 
 promise her never to go into one of them." 
 
 We enjoyed an excellent dinner, of fried squirrel 
 and broiled wood-cock, with peaches and cream for 
 
62 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 dessert; but Jochen would have it that he ate a 
 better meal at my room, of my cooking. 
 
 "No, no man ever made potato salad like that, or 
 boiled a piece of corn-beef so— just right!" 
 
 This brought out little Yetta with the question: 
 "Papa, does Uncle Henry cook hisself?" 
 
 "Yes indeed he does, and does it well, too"! said 
 Jochen. 
 
 "Why don't Aunt Elizabeth cook for him? Mama 
 cooks for you; you never cook for yourself!" she 
 inquired. 
 
 "She is going to as soon as she gets time, Yetta!" 
 answered her mother. 
 
 "Yes, and little Yetta will come and help me. 
 Won't you, Yetta?" said Miss Elizabeth, with very 
 rosy cheeks. 
 
 "Yes I will if papa and mama come too!" was the 
 answer. 
 
 It now transpired that Henry and Yetta had been 
 busy all morning showing Elizabeth over the farm. 
 Little Yetta had shown her her flower garden and 
 Henry his melon patch. They had been to the barn- 
 yard to look at the chickens, the turkeys, the ducks, 
 the geese, the pigs; then to the milk lot to look at 
 the calves, and Henry had given her his snow white 
 heifer calf, "Pinky"; and Yetta had given her the 
 black rooster, "Dude," with a white topknot. They 
 had been to the orchard, too, where they found some 
 early peaches, yellow pears and black damsons — in 
 short, they had introduced her into their world, a 
 world as new to her as to them, and therefore of 
 equal interest to all parties. They became her 
 teachers, and the pupil found an easy way to their 
 hearts. This was very evident and did not need the 
 basket of choice melons and fruit, which Henry had 
 gathered for her, by the time we started for home, 
 to make it apparent. 
 
 After some hours, spent in rambling on the shores 
 of the lake, and climbing a couple of Indian mounds, 
 we said "good-bye" to Feeka with many a kind word, 
 while Henry and Yetta accompanied us with their 
 father to the ferry. 
 
 July 17, 1856. 
 
 Payday. Mr. F- 
 
 - allowed me fifty dollars 
 extra for the use of my paste during the last month. 
 This enabled me to purchase the additional ground 
 upon which I held an option; but I took seventy-five 
 feet instead of fifty. I now have one hundred and 
 twenty-five feet square, fronting on two streets, sixty 
 feet each, and an alley twenty-five feet wide. Have 
 agreed to make the last payment in sixty days — that 
 gives me thirty days more than I need. 
 
 Had a long conversation with Mr. F about 
 
 our work and agreed to go over all the patterns with 
 him systematically, as soon as the shop shuts down, 
 in order to see what changes ought to be made. I 
 also agreed to work one and one-half time, that is 
 fifteen hours a day, during the next two months, 
 in order to get as many patterns into shape as possi- 
 ble by the time work is resumed in the foundry. He 
 
 is a man of extraordinary ability to dispatch busi- 
 ness. Every thing resolves itself with him into "aye" 
 and "nay." He knows and cares nothing about argu- 
 ing a matter; looks into the center of it, into the 
 heart — then "yes" or "no", and the affair is settled; 
 settled, dismissed and he is ready for the next emerg- 
 ency. Like a mill, the peck of corn ground, it is 
 ready for the next bushel. There is no chewing 
 of the cud — no "perhaps," no "might be," no "but." 
 
 Yes, that is it — decides! Decide, right if possible, 
 by all means, but decide — you are in the wrong 
 until you do! Even if you err, you are only wrong — 
 that is, you are where you were before you decided. 
 
 The most entertaining thing is to see such a man 
 in contact with a lawyer, his opposite, and to note 
 the supreme contempt which each entertains for the 
 other. It is not safe, however, to suggest to either 
 that perhaps both may be necessary, for it is utterly 
 incomprehensible to them how a man of common 
 sense can be so foolish, and how it is possible for 
 him to keep out of the poor house, or the insane 
 asylum. 
 
 July 18, 1856. 
 
 Looked over my note of day before yesterday in 
 regard to the migration of birds, and see that I over- 
 looked another effect of the law which I mentioned 
 and that is, a change of location, not exactly a migra- 
 tion, still of importance to the frontiersman and 
 hunter — on the part of squirrels, turkeys, deer, bear 
 and their dependents. 
 
 "They follow the mast," says the woodsman! 
 As it seldom happens that the same district of 
 forest produces full crops of pecans, acorns, hickory 
 nuts, walnuts, hack-berries, gum balls and the like, 
 two seasons in succession, the game that relies upon 
 these fruits for its winter food, changes its haunts 
 with the changed condition of scarcity or abundance, 
 as they occur. It is not, however, a migration, as 
 it lacks regularity, both of season and direction. It 
 occurs once a year only, in October, and then in any 
 direction — north, south, east or west, wherever mast, 
 that is, wherever food abounds. 
 
 It is this circumstance, no doubt, that contributed 
 largely to the condition of perennial warfare which 
 Europeans found prevailing among the aboriginal 
 inhabitants of this country. These people relied 
 upon the animals mentioned for their food. Each 
 nation or tribe had its own hunting grounds, bounded 
 on all sides by the hunting grounds of other nations 
 and tribes. But the game followed its food, the 
 mast, regardless of boundary lines, and the hunter 
 had to follow the game or starve. The result was a 
 disregard by him of boundary lines — trespass, collis- 
 ion and war. 
 
 Another fact, in some degree connected with this, 
 is the distribution of the flora, the plant life, in the 
 tracks of these migratory hordes of birds and beasts. 
 One day I saw an eagle at a distance on the naked 
 beach of a lake, feeding on something. As there 
 was no chance for a shot, I simply walked up to see 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 63 
 
 what he had killed; and found that he was devouring 
 a brant. The carcass was nearly picked to the bone, 
 but the craw of the dead bird was still intact and 
 contained the undigested seeds of a water lily. This 
 was hundreds of miles north of the habitat of the 
 plant; still the seeds germinated and produced a 
 vigorous growth in the lake, where I scattered them 
 on purpose — although, the following winter proved 
 too severe for them. 
 
 It is always of interest to me to see a rational 
 purpose accomplished, but especially so when it 
 results from no specific author, or when the purpose 
 accomplished, although pre-eminently rational, does 
 not lie in the purview of the actor, or actors, who 
 accomplish it. 
 
 I had wondered much at the regularity with which 
 young forests of oak and hickory grew along the 
 edge of prairies and places previously denuded of 
 trees by fire or other causes; not at the regularity 
 of size, for that is obviously the result of simultan- 
 eous seeding, but at the regularity of space, the 
 intervals apart, at which they grow. Usually there 
 are some old trees scattered through them, standing 
 hundreds of yards apart; and while these must be 
 regarded as the parents of the young forests, the 
 que-'tion arises, how the seed, produced by them, 
 becomes so evenly distributed over the ground, and 
 how they themselves come to occupy the position of 
 pioneer settlers in new places, a mile or more away 
 from their home, the forest. Neither currents of air 
 nor currents of water can effect this distribution. 
 
 The thing puzzled me, until one afternoon, late 
 in October, I was out with my gun, and crossing a 
 strip of prairie that ran in the shape of a wedge be- 
 tween a creek and a river bottom, I noticed a blue- 
 jay, or rather a string of them, gathering acorns 
 from a tree on the river side, and flying across the 
 strip of prairie, store them in a hollow tree on the 
 creek. The thing did not interest me particularly, as 
 it was nothing new; but in walking into the timber, 
 I disturbed an owl, and no sooner did the blue-jays 
 see him than the usual shout was given, and the 
 hue and cry raised. Instantly, every jay dropped 
 his acorn, right where he was, and went in pursuit 
 of the common enemy. Of course, said I to my- 
 self, it is not difficult to see that these birds, the 
 jay, the crow, the red-headed woodpecker, the 
 hoarders — that these are the planters of the pioneer 
 trees; but who distributes their seed; who trans- 
 forms the prairie into a dense forest, the prairie, 
 which these birds have converted into open glades? 
 
 It was only a few evenings after this when I saw 
 a gray squirrel, called cat squirrel, in some places, 
 busily engaged gathering acorns. He picked up a 
 nut near the foot of a tree, hopped off some twenty- 
 five, thirty and sometimes even fifty paces or more, 
 dug a hole in the ground an inch or two deep, put in 
 his acorn and covered it up, by pushing dirt on it 
 with his nose. This done, he returned for another 
 nut, and so kept on, until darkness put an end to 
 his labor. 
 
 Yes, I caught him in the very act, the forester, 
 setting out his plantation. Yet, he does not want to 
 plant a forest; he wants to put up provisions for a 
 rainy day. But the forest is planted and planted by 
 him. The provision he intended for a rainy day will 
 provide for generations, of whom he little dreams. 
 
 I have set down these facts, because I read a book, 
 written by Mr. Humboldt, where I found in Vol. 2, 
 pages 179 and 180, the following st-ange declaration: 
 "How is it to be explained that plants have 
 migrated beyond districts which have an entirely 
 different climate, or which at present are covered 
 by the sea? Or how does it happen that the germs 
 of organisms which resemble each other in habit 
 and internal structure develop at different distances 
 from the poles, and on different sea levels, wher- 
 ever, in however distant localities, the temperature is 
 approximately the same? I regard this problem in- 
 solvable — " 
 
 Again, on page 373, Vol. 3, he says: 
 "Nothing is so marvelous, and from a geographical 
 point of view so obscure as the migration of birds, as 
 regards its direction, extent and final limit." 
 
 Page 258, Vol. 3: "The causes of the distribution 
 of the species, both in the vegetable and animal 
 kingdom, belong to the problems which natural 
 philosophy is incapable of solving. The science has 
 nothing to do with the origin of these existences, but 
 only with the laws in accordance with which they are 
 distributed over the globe. It investigates what is, 
 the vegetable and animal organisms as they occur, 
 under different latitudes, different temperatures, at 
 different elevations; it seeks to discover the condi- 
 tions under which this or that organism develops, 
 multiplies or changes; but it does not touch ques- 
 tions which are insolvable, for the reason that they 
 are connected with the origin of a vital germ." 
 
 But I do not see what distribution has to do with 
 origin, nor yet how a change in species is possible 
 without origination, without something being origi- 
 nated which was not! 
 
 Then "The cause of the distribution belongs to the 
 problems which natural philosophy is incapable of 
 solving," and yet "It investigates the laws in ac- 
 cordance with which the distribution is made." What 
 kind of a law is that which does not reveal the cause 
 of the phenomenon investigated? But perhaps he 
 means to call the fact that we do not find polar 
 bears at the mouth of the Orinoco, or monkeys in 
 Greenland, a law! 
 
 Books of this kind are a great disappointment to a 
 poor man, who has no time to throw away. 
 
 July 19, 1856 
 Never cry straw until you get to the bottom of the 
 pile. On page 39, Vol. 2, of Humboldt's "Travels 
 in South America," I read: 
 
 "Fifty paces from the river (the Orinoco) we saw 
 water arise whenever the Indians stuck the oars in 
 the sand. The sand, moist below and dry on the 
 surface, where it is exposed to the heat of the sun, 
 acts as a sponge. It gives up every instant in the 
 
64 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 form of vapor the infiltrated water. The vapor de- 
 velops in the heated layers of sand, arises to the 
 surface, and becomes visible as the air cools down 
 in the evenings. In proportion as the shore elimi- 
 nates water in the form of vapor, it draws a fresh 
 supply from the stream." 
 
 Now this is important, for I remember reading 
 in a book, called "A Naturalist's Voyage Around 
 The World," by Charles Darwin, the following, on 
 page 487: 
 
 "On this island wells are situated from which 
 ships obtain water. At first sight it appears not a 
 little remarkable that the fresh water should ebb and 
 flow with the tides; and it has been imagined that 
 sand has the power of filtering the salt from the sea 
 water. These ebbing wells are common on some 
 of the low islands in the West Indies. The com- 
 pressed sand, or porous coral rock, is permeated like 
 a sponge with the salt water; but the rain which 
 falls on the surface must sink to the level of the 
 surrounding sea and must accumulate there, dis- 
 placing an equal bulk of the water near the surface; 
 and this will keep fresh if the mass be sufficiently 
 compact to prevent much mechanical admixture; but 
 where the land consists of great loose blocks of coral, 
 with open interstices, if a well be dug, the water, as 
 I have seen, is brackish." 
 
 Yes, and where the land consists of clay, compact 
 marl or humus it is brackish, too; at the same depth 
 and in the same locality. 
 
 Now, the fact that these wells exist is true and of 
 the highest importance, not merely to the series of 
 islands that stretch in front of the coast of Texas, 
 from the Rio Grande to the mouth of the Brazos, but 
 also to the main shore; for the phenomenon extends 
 inland as far as the sand of the Gulf shore extends 
 uninterruptedly. Wherever you dig a well, fifty or 
 sixty miles even from shore, if you strike this sand 
 you have a strata of fresh water, some eighteen 
 inches in strength. If you go deeper you have salt 
 water. If you dig in humus, or marl, or clay you 
 have the same. 
 
 But the fact is best illustrated on the islands — take 
 Padre. It is one hundred and fifty miles long, ex- 
 tending from the mouth of the Rio Grande to Corpus 
 Christi Pass. Its average width is two miles and 
 highest elevation above the waters of the Gulf, thirty- 
 five feet. It is separated from the main land by 
 the Lagoona Madre, with an average width of four 
 miles. The Lagoona has at present a depth of not 
 exceeding four feet, arid is being filled up by the 
 drift sands from the island. Now, this sand bank, 
 Padre Island, isolated from the main land, so that 
 it cannot receive a drop of fresh water from sub- 
 terranean sources, exposed to seasons of drought, 
 extending through four and five years, and during all 
 that time spread out under the rays of a semi-tropical 
 sun, has a strata of fresh water, some eighteen inches 
 in strength, at about the same elevations above the 
 waters of the Gulf. Wherever you dig to that level 
 
 you find that water, at any season of the year, wet 
 or dry, neither higher nor lower. To account for 
 this, with Dr. Darwin, by supposing that the sand 
 acts as a partition, that prevents the fresh and salt 
 waters from mixing, especially when the two waters 
 are continually oscillating up and down, the one 
 replacing the other in the minute interstices of the 
 sand, and that, too, when there is no time intervening 
 for the sand to lose by drainage or evaporation the 
 complement of water which each grain attracts be- 
 fore the other water envelops it — to accept this as 
 an explanation is to me impossible. Indeed, it would 
 be hard to conceive of a machine that would effect 
 a more thorough admixture of the two waters than a 
 sand bank, exposed to the ebb and flow of the tides. 
 
 Suppose I take a vessel with a perforated bottom, 
 that will act as a strainer, retaining sand, but allow- 
 ing water to run through. I fill this partly with a 
 layer or strata of fine, clean, dry sand. Through 
 this I filter a quart of sea water. When the water 
 ceases to run, but before the sand in the filter gets 
 dry, I run through a quart of fresh water. After 
 this is through, I run through a fresh quart of sea 
 water, and after that, not another quart of fresh 
 water but the same quart I ran through before. Al- 
 ternating thus the same quart of fresh water with a 
 new supply of sea water, the question is — how long 
 can I continue the operation before my quart of 
 fresh water will cease to be fresh — will cease to be 
 distinguishable from the sea water? If I adopt Mr. 
 Darwin's view, this operation has gone on on Padre 
 Island — this filtering of the fresh water through sand 
 saturated with sea water has continued, sometimes, 
 for five successive years, with the rise and fall of 
 every tide, and still the water is fresh. Nay, nature 
 does not wait until the filter ceases to run, but 
 pours in her fresh water at the top, while the sea 
 water is pressed out at the bottom, so that the two 
 surfaces of the different waters are in actual, in 
 immediate contact, and not only that, but she also 
 makes the sea water lift the fresh water up, back 
 to the top of the filter, as if that instrument was made 
 in the form of an hour glass and reversed with the 
 turn of every tide. 
 
 I can't believe a word of it. I think, however, that 
 it is likely the fact reported by Humboldt, from the 
 banks of the Orinoco, and which may be verified 
 anywhere in southern latitudes, along streams with 
 sandy shores, may furnish a hint as to what is going 
 on in these islands. The vapor eliminated by the 
 heated strata of sand above is a chemical transforma- 
 tion of the water which they draw from the strata 
 below, and the recondensation of that vapor by the 
 fall of temperature at night will make it distilled 
 water, free from salt or other impurities that are not 
 vaporized at the same temperature. These sand 
 banks, then, exposed to a tropical or semi-tropical 
 sun, would have to be regarded not as filters that 
 separate mechanically, nor as impenetrable partitions 
 that keep separate these two waters, but as a chemi- 
 cal apparatus that transforms water into vapor and 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 6S 
 
 vapor into water, as the banks of the Orinoco were 
 observed doing by Humboldt. 
 
 I do not say it is so, but I'm going to see whether 
 it is or not if I get the opportunity. The thing in- 
 terests me, because I have some friends, from my 
 college days, who have large interests in southwest 
 Texas. They depend upon this source largely, some- 
 times for years, entirely for their supply of water. 
 If my surmise should prove correct, it would be no 
 small matter to them, as it would give assurance of 
 an unlimited supply of water within a few feet of 
 the surface of the ground to a section of country 
 which only lacks this to make it the Sicily of 
 America. 
 
 July 20, 1856. 
 
 Had a letter from friend Mcintosh, ravingly mad 
 at the disappointment. Well, it cannot be helped. 
 It is not my lot to philander through life. I must 
 work — work or die. Loafing about until I get hung- 
 ry, then gorge and curse because I can gorge no 
 more — nay, howl, call men and beasts to witness the 
 outrage, that my paunch is not larger — there is 
 nothing excellent in that. 
 
 July 21, 1856. 
 
 It is pretty stifif, fifteen hours in the shop! But I 
 make it in daylight. I commence at half-past four 
 in the morning and quit at half-past seven at night. 
 Then I have two hours and a half to cook and eat my 
 victuals, read and write my notes — but some of this 
 I have to defer until Sundays. At ten I go to sleep. 
 My actual physical labor is comparatively light; still 
 the long hours are confining. My mind gets ob- 
 streperous, sometimes, strikes on me and goes off 
 sky-larking. It is only sixty days, however, and Mr. 
 
 F told me he would allow me ten dollars a 
 
 day as long as I could stand the hours. That will 
 help to get me under my own roof before winter. 
 
 Wrote a letter to Mr. O. D. F , brother of 
 
 Mr. F , in explanation of my conduct in failing 
 
 to call on him, as I had promised. 
 
 July 22, 1856. 
 -, longer than his 
 
 A long visit from Mr. W- 
 
 usual daily call. He is unfortunate, as it seems a 
 necessity of his nature to have somebody to hate, 
 and although there is no apparent lack of subjects, 
 still the time he wastes in picking up the shortcom- 
 ings, the blunders of the man who enjoys his ill will, 
 would be enough if economically applied to make 
 him a wise man. There is not an act so paltry, so 
 it does not redound to the man's credit, but he must 
 collect, preserve and cherish it. Things utterly in- 
 significant, that from their very nature don't deserve 
 a moment's thought, are treasured up, because by 
 braying them together they will serve as paint to 
 smear the victim's features. Then, peddling such 
 (stuff about, as if a man could live in filth and keep 
 Clean himself, as if tar would not soil the vessel that 
 ^olds it, as if the contemplation of littleness would 
 /exalt us! It is unfortunate. 
 I One of the young men in the office has offended 
 
 him in a special manner. He calls him "Smarty," 
 "Smart-aleck" and the like; and uses every oppor- 
 tunity to dilate upon his, this, that and the other 
 foolishness — as if inadequacy, that stands in the im- 
 mediate presence of the fact, needed special mention, 
 or were worthy of it. 
 
 After a long rigmarole about the affairs in the 
 office, he looked over the work I had done during the 
 week, and, as is usual with persons of his weakness, 
 went as far in the opposite extreme in his approval 
 as he had been a moment before in his condemna- 
 tion. Of course I have to value the one with the 
 other. 
 
 July 23, 1856. 
 
 Went to see Miss Elizabeth early this morning. I 
 told her the happenings of the week; kissed her, and 
 she excused me from dinner, so that I could catch 
 up with my room work. Had all day and evening 
 to write and study. 
 
 Read Spinoza, or rather an analysis of his philoso- 
 phy. "Causa Sui" — what a strange thought for a Jew! 
 No wonder the Rabbis hired assassins to kill him, for 
 they saw, or suspected, what he did not. He only 
 saw the "Causa Sui" as logical result, as Jew, and 
 died seeing no more. But the principle announced 
 contains more than he saw; for if God is cause of 
 Himself, then it follows beyond all peradventure that 
 He is also effect of Himself, and not only this, but 
 also that He is cause and effect of Himself, and as 
 such alone God. 
 
 When I talk of God as cause alone, I am soliloquiz- 
 ing, talking to myself, not objectively, not of God 
 as He is. When I talk of Him as effect, I am doing 
 the same thing — in either case, I am considering Him 
 in sections. 
 
 As cause alone He is consciousness in its abstract 
 immediacy — also called pure essence, pure matter, 
 and the like. To be real, it must determine itself, 
 must cause, must cease to be a logical abstraction, 
 and be spontaneity. 
 
 As effect He is the being of nature and finite 
 spirit; effectuated with every instant of time — not in, 
 but with, for time is of the effect. 
 
 But as cause and effect alone He is spirit, is of him- 
 self, God — the absolute self-conscious intelligence, 
 whose becoming is the being of what is, and whose 
 being is the becoming of what is. This is the all 
 there is, and the all is all there is. 
 
 Spinoza saw what Plato saw as the result of his 
 dialectic, that the dependent is not the independent; 
 but he did not see what Plato tried to see and ex- 
 press in his myths and allegories — such as the trans- 
 migration of the soul, its immortality, and that it 
 does not receive truth from without; all of which are 
 obscure hints that may and may not mean what 
 Aristotle saw, that the totality is self-determined, 
 and that it is this self-determination that is the causa- 
 tion which results in what is. Spinoza falls short of 
 Aristotle, and more so of Plotinus and Proclus; for 
 they, or at least the latter, saw that while in Plato's 
 
66 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 dialectic the finite spirit returns back into harmony 
 with the absolute, it requires Arisotle's self-determi- 
 nation of the absolute to complete the self-perpetuat- 
 ing process. But Spinoza is a Jew, whose ancestors 
 had been scattered more than a thousand years 
 among the barbarism of the world, and it is for this 
 reason that the principle which he announces is so 
 interesting. He, a Jew, lays down a principle, which 
 if developed is nothing less than the logical state- 
 ment of the Christian idea of God. 
 
 July 24, 1856. 
 
 Requested Mr. F that he permit me to leave 
 
 my money in his hands until such time as I might 
 have use for it. He ordered the clerk to give me a 
 pass book and to credit me on paydays with the 
 amount left due me. He then asked: 
 
 "What do you do with your money? I understand 
 from Mr. W you don't spend any." 
 
 "But Mr. F , I do spend a great deal. My 
 
 room alone costs me six dollars a month, and my 
 eating costs nearly as much more." 
 
 "That is extravagant! You spend twelve dollars a 
 month and you earn close on to three hundred!" he 
 said with a hearty laugh. 
 
 "But Mr. F ," I replied, "I am in debt; and 
 
 you know debt is a bad bed-fellow, kicks off the 
 clothes in a cold night." 
 
 "How did you come to be in debt?" 
 
 "I bought a piece of property and have not made 
 the last payment." 
 
 "Oh, that is no debt. You have the property to 
 show for it. How much did you buy?" 
 
 I told him, and also my reasons for putting my 
 earnings into town lots — my experience with the 
 banks. 
 
 "I see, now, I see how you got to the sand pile. 
 But have you got the papers yet? I mean the ex- 
 change on P. B. and Co.?" 
 
 I told him "yes!" 
 
 "Well, you bring it to me, and it may be, I can 
 find a way to make it of some use to you yet. But 
 be that as it may, I can only say, you have adopted 
 a very judicious course. Whenever you need any 
 help, don't pay the extravagant interest which they 
 charge strangers but come to me, and I will assist 
 you on reasonable terms. I know you. I don't have 
 to charge you for risks that I don't run." 
 
 I thanked and told him that I would avail myself 
 of his kindness if occasion should occur. 
 
 All day busy with Mr. F- 
 
 July 25, i8s6. 
 -, examining patterns. 
 
 The shop has been evening up for the last two weeks, 
 and this has thrown two-thirds of all the patterns out 
 of use. Judging from what I have seen to-day, there 
 is no end of work for me; and I may as well make up 
 my mind that I am in for all I can do, even at 
 present hours, for an indefinite length of time. Mr. 
 
 F brought a clerk with him, who took down 
 
 the number and name of each pattern and its condi- 
 tion, as I found and dictated it. This will give us a 
 
 chance to work to the best advantage in handling 
 those first in which the greatest saving can be 
 effected. 
 
 Had a letter from friend H., an old class mate, 
 who is making fine progress in his profession — that 
 of journalist — and expects soon to be in charge of the 
 paper, on which he has worked ever since he gradu- 
 ated. Wants me to come to him to help him. Is 
 surprised to hear of my working in a foundry. Thinks 
 that I couid make myself useful, be a success in his 
 line — "With your industry, perseverance, etc., pro- 
 vided you quit dreaming and become practical!" 
 
 Yes the old theme! Reason is the only guide for 
 me! Beyond doubt, I answer. But, reason is not 
 individual. As individual it is only potential, not 
 actual; for man is still born naked as of old. The 
 individual is the possibility of becoming rational, and 
 insofar as he does so, and insofar only is he a safe 
 guide, a law unto himself. 
 
 In the meantime, my friend, you refuse validity to 
 every rule of action, unless vouched for by your 
 reason; and that, too, notwithstanding your theoretic 
 contention that you can not know truth — can not 
 know the relation which you sustain to the universe. 
 
 You say, "Nothing has validity except what has 
 truth for me, and I, I can not know truth!" Nothing 
 has validity for me but X and X is not for me. When 
 I draw this conclusion for my friend, I am dreaming. 
 
 But, looking at this matter practically, as wide- 
 awake as it is possible for me to arouse myself, I 
 am convinced that the resources of the human race 
 are controlled by the purposes of the race; the pur- 
 poses by the convictions, and the convictions by 
 truth. Now, to share the resources, I have to share 
 and understand the purposes of my race; to share 
 the purposes I have to share and understand the 
 convictions upon which they are based; and to share 
 the convictions I must share and understand the truth 
 that sways these convictions. When I do this, then 
 and then only have I learned my trade as a man; then 
 only have I ceased to be an apprentice; then only am 
 I a law unto myself, a free, rational, human being. 
 
 July 26, 1856. 
 
 Had a long talk with Mr. W , who asked 
 
 me how I would like to take a young man in my 
 shop to help me. He thought I worked too hard, 
 etc. I told him that I had thought of it myself, but 
 that it occurred to me it would not be right without 
 
 the consent of Mr. F , and I felt some delicacy 
 
 about asking him. 
 
 "As it is," said I, "the shop has an advantage in 
 the market on account of the superior patterns, and 
 this we can only maintain by keeping our methods 
 
 to ourselves. Mr. F treats me liberall.y, and 
 
 while I have no doubt but what the other concern* 
 will soon discover that they are behind the times, itt 
 will take a good deal of rummaging about before they 
 catch up; and I do not feel inclined to let them sejs 
 our hand — certainly not without the consent of Mr, 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 67 
 
 "You're right, Mr. B- 
 
 -, you're right. I don't 
 
 thin'K he has ever thought of that. But you're right!" 
 
 July 27, i8s6r 
 
 Had a pleasant surprise this evening. While pre- 
 paring to note down some thoughts, I was inter- 
 rupted by a visit from Mr. F . After I had 
 
 given him my chair, he must know what that was. 
 Pointing to my note book he asked: "What is that, 
 Henry?" 
 
 I explained it, and nothing would do but I must 
 read something to him. I felt embarrassed at first, 
 but the thought occurred to me that I could soon 
 satisfy without making him any the wiser about my 
 private affairs. So I turned to the notes on the study 
 of Hegel's "Logic" and read. After he had listened 
 very attentively for some minutes, he interrupted me 
 with: 
 
 "That sounds like it was English, but what in the 
 
 world are you driving at? I don't understand a word 
 
 of it. Is it all like that?" I told him "no;" and 
 
 turning to the Fourth of July picnic, I read the 
 
 ■ conversation addressed to Jochen. 
 
 "Now, there is some sense in that, Henry! But 
 why do you want to spend time, ink and paper on 
 stuff like you read before when you can write things 
 that are good enough to be printed in the news- 
 papers?" 
 
 "Well," said I, "Mr. F , poor people have 
 
 poor ways. I thought I would put down the thoughts 
 and happenings as they occur, for I have no time 
 to sort them, and yet I want to preserve them for 
 my own use. You, who are rich, can afford to hire 
 men to attend to matters that you don't care about 
 attending to yourself. 
 
 "You can hire preachers to pray and worship for 
 you; lawyers to law for you; doctors to pliysic and 
 statesmen to govern you; but a poor devil like me, I 
 have to do much of this kind of work myself — just 
 as I have to do my own cooking and housework. 
 Of course, in noting down the occurrences and 
 thoughts of the life of a man so circumstanced, there 
 will naturally be a good deal of variety, some incon- 
 gruity and a great deal that is absurd to anybody but 
 himself. I have studied law enough to know how to 
 draw a conveyance and an ordinary contract. I have 
 studied physiology and anatomy and attended the 
 clinic so as to be able to set a broken limb or tie an 
 artery, and looked into medicine far enough to pro- 
 tect myself from malaria, the prevailing trouble that 
 besets me in this climate. As for philosophy, 
 especially that part of it which seeks to understand 
 the foundation of what we call the church, the state, 
 civil society and the family, that is a kind of daily oc- 
 cupation with me. I don't expect to get through 
 with that until I get through for good. 
 
 "Now, in the shop where such a life is wrought out, 
 you would naturally expect to find a considerable 
 variety of chips or sweepings, and I suppose we 
 might regard this note book as a kind of literary 
 
 deal box, into which I shovel them as they accumu- 
 late." 
 
 "And you aim," said he, "to be your own priest, 
 your own lawyer, your own doctor and your own 
 statesman! Well, that is modest! Still, I suppose 
 a man by working eighteen hours out of twenty- 
 four, as you do, can accomplish something even in 
 that line. It is certainly better to spend the hours 
 you have to rest your physical frame in that way 
 than to loaf around in beer houses or worse places." 
 
 "Have you ever noticed, Mr. F , that every- 
 body out in the country keeps a dog?" 
 
 "Oh yes, everybody has a cur!" 
 
 "Yes, but have you noticed him — I mean the usual 
 yellow dog?" 
 
 "No, not especially; except to keep him from bit- 
 ing me." 
 
 "Just so! He is a good watch-dog, and then he is 
 a good hand to protect the hen roost at night from 
 the minks, coons, opossums, wild-cats and vermin in 
 general. Then, in the day time he is good to run 
 stock out of the field, to hunt squirrels, to track up 
 a wounded deer or turkey. Of course, he is not as 
 good a bird dog as the pointer or setter, nor as 
 good a tracker as a hound; nor as good to catch and 
 hold fast as the bull; nor as good a watch dog as 
 the mastiff. But for the frontiersman he is a fair 
 substitute for mastiff, bull, hound, pointer and setter, 
 in one." 
 
 "He is jack of all trades!" "' ^ 
 
 "And master of none, as the saying is. But he 
 beats all these dogs, each for all these uses, although 
 he cannot compete with any one in that dog's 
 speciality. A poor man can't keep a menagerie of 
 dogs; he must get along with the best substitute at 
 hand. While you have your choice in all questions 
 of law between the firm of Catchem, Holdfast & 
 Mastiff and the concern of Beegle, Sleuthhound & 
 Co., the individual members of which are all of 
 them specialists, each one a specialist of a specialty, 
 you can rely upon Mr. Servile, Pointer and Setter 
 in hunting for truth, for your soul salvation, as it is 
 called by some; and your black and tan spaniel, 
 Mr. Fawning, or solemn-faced pug will be but too 
 happy to attend to your affairs of state, from the 
 sucking of an egg to the killing of a stray sheep — 
 your poor man has to rely upon his yellow cur — 
 himself alone." 
 
 He laughed at the odd comparison, as he called it, 
 and then said: 
 
 "But what led you to the study of philosophy?" 
 "What I have told you. It considers all these mat- 
 ters in their abbreviations, in their germs, and while 
 practical life loads each with endless detail, much is 
 gained even for that when a person has a clear con- 
 ception of their respective spheres and general mean- 
 ing, together with an idea of how they fit together. 
 It shows him where and how to look for the rest." 
 
 "There is no doubt about that," said he. "A man 
 who has no general conception of what he is going 
 to do, or to investigate, is like one who wants to go 
 
68 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 to a certain place, but doesn't know the road, and then 
 forgets the name of the place he wants to go to, 
 so that he can not even inquire his way. 
 
 "But, Henry, I came to see you about that paper 
 of yours. My lawyer reports to me that there is 
 nothing to be made out of the firm, and the thought 
 suggested itself that perhaps I could do something 
 with one of the members, who has large real estate 
 interests here in the city. You seem to think that un- 
 improved property has some value, as you put your 
 earnings into it. How would it be if I could turn 
 the paper into some town lots for you. I think my- 
 self that there is not much choice between worth- 
 less paper and unimproved, unproductive town prop- 
 erty. Still, if I had no other choice I would take the 
 lots. I do not know that I can do it, but I should 
 like to know what you think about it, whether it is 
 worth trying. You take an interest in the success 
 of my affairs, and I feel like I want to get even in 
 some way." 
 
 "You're certainly under no obligation to me, Mr. 
 
 F , for anything I can do in the shop. You pay 
 
 me liberally, and a man must be an egregious fool 
 who does not take care of his own bread basket, and 
 that is what your shop is to me." 
 
 "That is true. But somehow, this manufacturing 
 seems to have a tendency to separate the interests of 
 employer and employed. The men sometimes act as 
 if the only enemy they have in life is the man who 
 makes it possible for them to make a living. I have 
 thought that the system of piece work contributed to 
 this, but I have no time to bother with such questions. 
 I know the fact is so, as a general rule, and if I 
 find an exception to that rule, I appreciate it. Mr. 
 
 W told me this evening what you said about 
 
 employing an assistant. This showed that you have 
 an idea of the general side of my business, and that 
 you think enough about it to make its success your 
 concern." 
 
 I thanked him for his good opinion, and told him 
 as to the paper that I should regard it as a great 
 service if he succeeded in exchanging it for town 
 lots. 
 
 "But what is your idea about this town property? 
 There are people that are wild upon the subject, and 
 every now and then they get up a perfect craze 
 among themselves." 
 
 "I take it, Mr. F , that a town or city per- 
 forms certain economic functions for an aggregate 
 of population that does not reside within its limits. 
 These functions are commercial, financial and in- 
 dustrial. Now, if I want to know the future size of 
 a given town, I examine the character of the country 
 for which it works. If the area for which it works 
 is fully developed, that is, has a population as dense 
 as it can maintain in comfort, and the city produces 
 all the articles of consumption for that population, 
 which can be made cheaper there than elsewhere, 
 the town may be regarded as built. Its future 
 growth will depend upon the natural increase of 
 
 population, and there can be no rapid enhancement 
 
 of value. 
 
 "But if the area in question is not developed, and 
 possesses natural resources of great value, or if 
 the city does not produce the articles for the popu- 
 lation of this area, which it can produce cheaper than 
 they can be produced elsewhere, then the city will 
 grow rapidly and values will enhance in proportion. 
 
 "Now, I have examined the country tributary to 
 this city and find that ninety per cent of the natural 
 wealth lies where nature placed it, untouched by 
 man. I also find that this meager fraction of popu- 
 lation is supplied with articles of consumption — such 
 as furniture, implements, shoes and clothing, etc., 
 from this city, it is true, but they are not made here; 
 they are imported from great distances and dis- 
 tributed from this point. The proportion of these 
 goods made here can not exceed twenty per cent, and 
 yet the raw material is abundant and the natural 
 conditions for their production, such as climate and 
 health, are most favorable. In addition to this, I know 
 the condition of Europe, and the energy and in- 
 dustry which will necessarily be drawn thence as a 
 knowledge of our situation is spread abroad. 
 
 "It is in view of these facts, Mr. F , that I 
 
 have chosen this place for my future home, and 
 that I put my earnings into city property. I am 
 paying six dollars a month rent for this naked room. 
 What interest is that upon the money invested? I 
 have figured it, as near as I can, and can not make 
 it less than twenty per cent." 
 
 "I reckon you are not far from right; and if I 
 entertained your ideas about our future, I could 
 make my children very rich people. I have no doubt 
 there is something in it. It stands to reason there is. 
 But a man can only do one thing at a time. I will 
 see what I can do about that paper and let you 
 know." 
 
 With this he bade me "good -night." I lighted 
 him down and thanked him for his visit. 
 
 July 28, 1856. 
 
 Had a call from Fritz about a friend of his just 
 from the old country. He wanted to see whether 
 I could be of any assistance to get him a job. 
 
 The man is a carver and designer, and Fritz says a 
 good one — but he got into trouble about some 
 forged paper in the old country, and got away from 
 there the best way he could. From his explana- 
 tion it is possible that the man was used as a tool 
 by sharpers, still it looks bad. The administration 
 of criminal law in Prussia is of such a character that 
 an innocent man has nothing to fear, no matter how 
 complicated the circumstances of the case may be. 
 I promised to meet the man on Fritz's floor to-mor- 
 row morning, and then let him know. Nothing 
 would suit me better than such a man. I remem- 
 ber reading in Goethe's translation of the autobio- 
 graphy of Cellini an explanation of the manner in 
 which the mold is made when they cast statues, or 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 69 
 
 works of art in bronze, and I think there is some- 
 thing there that deserves a trial. 
 
 Had a present sent to my room by Mr. F , a 
 
 magnificent arm chair on rockers, with a broad leaf 
 for a writing desk attached to one of the arms. 
 In a note he explains that he felt uncomfortable 
 occupying my chair while I was "riding the rail of 
 my cot" during his visit. 
 
 July 29, 1856. 
 
 Saw my man, and set him to work at Fritz Ober- 
 meyer's house. He is a splendid workman. He is 
 carving me an oven door upon a follow board. I 
 take it that the man is a fugitive from justice. There 
 is nothing innocent about him — a man of unlimited 
 cunning, with a remarkable exterior to hide it. The 
 first impression he makes upon a stranger is that he 
 is a simpleton — a listless, lackadaisical expression of 
 countenance, with the corners of his mouth drop- 
 ping down as if for want of energy to sustain them. 
 But if you observe carefully, you will catch those 
 listless eyes resting on you by stealth, as it were, 
 backed by a consciousness of superiority that ap- 
 pears not interested, because it isn't worth while. 
 He goes by the name of Olflf; but I am satisfied that 
 is not his true name. Carving is only a pretense, or 
 at best, a makeshift. This I conclude from his 
 kit of tools, which are those of an engraver as well 
 as those of a carver. 
 
 I showed him what I wanted this morning at 8 
 o'clock, and this evening when I went to see him 
 he was nearly done with the job — a thing that would 
 have taken one of our men a week. The ornamenta- 
 tion, an oak leaf, is wonderful. I asked him what 
 would be the best varnish to protect the wood from 
 moisture, if I wanted to take a plaster cast from the 
 work, but he didn't know; would see if he could 
 think of something. Would I like to have it fixed 
 so that it would be impervious to moisture? I told 
 him "yes"; but then, as he did not know how to 
 make it so, I would attend to it myself. Well, he 
 would see. Maybe he could think of something. 
 
 Of course! This, only to avoid telling me what 
 to use. 
 
 July 30, 1856. 
 
 Dined with Elizabeth and spent two whole hours 
 with her. Family arrangements running along as 
 usual. She told me that she thought Mary would 
 be able to keep house by Christmas, but that her 
 father is becoming more and more helpless under 
 his terrible affliction. 
 
 Worked hard all day and have everything up-to- 
 date. Spent an hour on Spinoza. 
 
 An attribute is what the understanding thinks of 
 God. There are but two — thought and extension. But 
 extension is the opposite of thought. Thought is the 
 non-extended. How can they be true of the same 
 substance, or essence? How can it be at one and 
 the same time extended and not extended? Or, if 
 they are merely subjective as from the statement 
 may be intended, how does the understanding man- 
 
 age to keep them apart, so that they do not eat 
 each other up? It is true, he tries to keep tliem 
 separated by defining each as "independent totality," 
 but is this fence high and strong enough? Are not 
 the two totalities contained in the one understanding, 
 in the one knowing, according to the definition? 
 
 Again, take extension itself. I know of none that 
 does not contain, at least, two opposite directions — 
 a point blank contradiction, without which extension 
 extends nowhere; is not! 
 
 I know of but one road that does not lead into 
 two opposite directions at one and the same time, 
 and that is the road that starts from this, my seat 
 here, where I am sitting, runs out of the west door of 
 my room and keeps on, in the same direction, around 
 the globe, until it enters my east door back to my 
 seat. On this road I can travel east and west at one 
 and the same time; I can go from and return home, 
 without turning around, and each step takes me 
 farther from and brings me nearer to my chair, at 
 one and the same time. 
 
 July 31, 1856. 
 
 This morning at daylight, before anybody else was 
 astir in the shop, Fritz brought me the follow board, 
 carved for me by Mr. Olff. It is simply perfect, and 
 varnished in such a way that I believe I could keep 
 it in water for a week without injuring it. I paid 
 him ten dollars for the work, and Fritz said that 
 was more than he asked. I could not take it for 
 less. I had the flask ready and took a plaster cast 
 of the carving at once. It turned out well, and I 
 have given it two coats of varnish already. After 
 each coat, while the varnish is fresh, I give it a coat 
 of fine, dry sand sifted to uniformity of grain. In 
 this way I raise the thickness of the cast to the 
 thickness of the casting I propose to make. I have 
 taken special pains to pencil the varnish uniformly, 
 so as to have the same amount of sand adhere over 
 the entire surface and thus give me an even thick- 
 ness. When this is done I propose to use this 
 plaster cast as a follow board and pattern, from 
 which to mold the reverse side of the casting, while 
 the face is molded from the original carving. For 
 this purpose I have had a duplicate made of the 
 section of the flask in which I took the plaster cast. 
 I feel certain that it will be a success, and still the 
 thing rests on my mind like a weight; and the 
 nearer I get to the final test the worse it is. I am 
 keeping the matter to myself for fear of failure; 
 that's the way with a vain fool. What has success 
 or failu're to do with the character of an act? 
 
 August I, 1856. 
 
 Have everything ready for to-morrow morning. I 
 will put up the flask before anybody is down, and 
 keep it covered until I get the iron. I have had 
 for some time an entire floor to work on whenever 
 I wanted to test anything, and this comes in good 
 play. I feel much relieved that I can get the experi- 
 ment off my hands before the shop closes down, as 
 
70 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 to-morrow will be the last day that we will have 
 iron. 
 
 August 2, 1856. 
 
 Molded my flask and got my carving and plaster 
 cast back to my shop before I was disturbed by any- 
 body. The method is a perfect success. Have han- 
 dled the casting, I suppose, fifty times to-day, like 
 a schoolboy with his first jack-knife. Have said 
 
 nothing about it yet to either Mr. W or Mr. 
 
 F. . It will reduce the cost of making patterns 
 
 at least forty per cent. In difficult ornamentation it 
 will be more, in plain work, not so much. 
 
 August 3, 1856. 
 
 Tested my casting thoroughly — as far as I could, 
 without cleaning it — as to uniformity of thickness, 
 and find that this method, followed with a moderate 
 degree of skill, will render my present work super- 
 fluous. There will be no need for a "pattern doctor" 
 in a shop where they make their patterns as this one 
 was made. I have not cleaned it yet, as I want Mr. 
 
 F to see it in the condition in which it came out 
 
 of the sand; but I see enough to know that I have 
 tinkered myself out of a fat job. Well, this is rich. 
 This side of the thing had not shown itself to me un- 
 til now. "Let well enough alone," they say. But 
 that is ridiculous. Nothing is well enough that can 
 be improved. This thing is not new, although it is 
 so here. It is only applying, in an humble sphere, a 
 method used hundreds of years ago in a higher de- 
 partment of the same craft. 
 
 August 4, 1856. 
 
 Mr. F- 
 
 • called in and I showed him the casting. 
 
 "Where did you get the pattern?" was the first 
 question, as he recognized at a glance the superior 
 execution of the ornamentation. I explained to him 
 the whole thing; how in my reading I came across 
 the method employed in casting bronze statuary; 
 and also how I found my man who understands his 
 business as a carver. I then showed him the carv- 
 ing and the cast and how the latter was prepared. 
 He spent more than an hour in examining every de- 
 tail, down to the smallest minutia. Then he said: 
 "Where is the man that made the carving for you?" 
 And when I told him, he added: "Why didn't you 
 bring him to me." 
 
 I explained my doubts about the man, and also 
 that I wanted to try him first. 
 
 "That is right. This is a good thing for us, Henry. 
 But how can we utilize that man?" 
 
 I suggested to leave him where he is and employ 
 him by the piece. 
 
 "Let him arrange a shop for himself, where he 
 can enjoy the privacy which I think it is his in- 
 clination to cultivate. There I will explain to him 
 from time to time what you want, and I know you 
 will get satisfactory work out of him. He made 
 that carving in one day." 
 
 "No! Is it possible?" 
 
 "As I tell you. Now, I think the man is all right 
 
 as long as he finds no helpers; and it may well be 
 that he will remain all right here, in a country 
 where his skill will provide for his wants abundantly, 
 without turning his hand to criminal practices. His 
 danger is to fall into the hands of counterfeiters." 
 
 "You say he is a designer?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I'll send you the drawings of a new parlor stove. 
 You submit them to him and let him design the orna- 
 ments. I want them rich. In the meantime you 
 need not say anything about this new method of 
 making patterns to anybody — I mean not even to 
 
 Mr. W . I must look it over and see how we 
 
 can turn it to use for you. 
 
 "As regards that paper of yours, about which I 
 came to see you, I have an offer for it of half a 
 block of ground between Sixth and Seventh streets, 
 
 and half a section of land out in County, in 
 
 Illinois. But I think he will do better. The lots 
 here are away out of town and the price at which 
 he wants to turn them in is about four times what 
 they are worth." 
 
 "Mr. F . you accept the offer if he will do no 
 
 better. It is finding that much on the street, and to 
 me it is a great deal." 
 
 "You just keep quiet; the paper is in my hands, 
 and he will do better before I get through with him. 
 There is one thing, however, that I would like to 
 know; would you prefer to take more farming land, 
 or shall I insist on more town property?" 
 
 "What does he rate the outside land at?" 
 
 "About the same — four times its value. He wants 
 five dollars an acre and I know that you can buy any 
 amount for one dollar and twenty-five cents an acre 
 at the government land office. But he pretends that 
 they are selected lands and the like." 
 
 "Under these circumstances there is very little 
 choice; but I would prefer to have some of both, and 
 if you can do no better than the offer made, ac- 
 cept it; and I will feel under lasting obligations to 
 you." 
 
 "That is all right, Henry— and you keep quiet about 
 this pattern business." 
 
 Augfust S, 1856. 
 
 Paid my last note and am out of debt. Saw Mr. 
 Olff with the drawings and explained to him what 
 I wanted. I also told him that if he did not have 
 room enough where he is, to rent himself a shop, 
 as he could rely upon steady employment. He kept 
 his eyes fixed upon the drawings, and remarked that 
 it was all right, he had plenty of room and could 
 do his work right well; that his niece, Mrs. Ober- 
 meyer, was very kind to him, and he liked to stay 
 with her. He then asked me when I would come 
 back for the sketch. I told him as soon as he had 
 it ready. "Then come to-morrow evening," he said. 
 
 August 6, 1856. 
 Dined with Elizabeth and told her all my good 
 news. It made her very happy, and we spent a 
 couple of hours, building air castles — but I privately 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 71 
 
 intend to convert some of them into solid brick and 
 mortar. Went and looked at the property offered to 
 me in settlement for my worthless paper. Find it 
 all right. I can live there and in a five minutes walk 
 be in the business center of the city; it will not take 
 me over fifteen minutes to reach the shop. 
 
 Came by Mr. Obermeyer's and got the sketch for 
 the ornaments of the parlor stove. They are cer- 
 tainly very rich — too much so, I should suppose — a 
 very beautiful urn, that is intended to be partly 
 plated. A new job for me. Mr. Olff asked me 
 whether such work as plating with silver or nickel 
 was done here. I told him "no," but that I under- 
 stood the new process of plating with a battery. 
 
 "Ah," said he, "then we can make a beautiful thing 
 of it. I will indicate the parts that are designed to 
 be plated." 
 
 Took his pencil, and with the freedom of a writing 
 master, indicated the shadings. He is certainly a 
 master of his craft or art. > 
 
 Had another hour with Spinoza. "Omnis determi- 
 nation est negatio." Certainly; if absolute being is 
 infinite affirmation, then the opposite, determined 
 being, is negation. But how under this view is God 
 "Causa Sui"? What more is there in "Causa Sui" 
 than there is in abstract essence, or in pure matter? 
 Do I not know that I am its cause? Do I not pro- 
 duce it by simply abstracting from all multiplicity? 
 What difference does it make whether I call this 
 essence, or matter, or "Causa Sui" — as long as it 
 does not cause? It is the result of my activity, a 
 creation of my mind. Abstracting from multiplicity 
 I have unity left — the abstractor. But this abstractor 
 can not abstract from himself. For to abstract is 
 to act, and in order to act he must be. To be, he 
 must have an object, and as he has abstracted from 
 all else, that object is himself. It determines that 
 self, and this act is its existence. It is not before 
 this act save as an abstraction. It is this constitutive 
 act of self-consciousness, the very root of self-con- 
 scious existence, that reveals the truth of the propo- 
 sition that all determination is negation, that is, 
 negation of the abstract unity called "Causa Sui" — 
 that does not cause. It is through this act that the 
 "Causa Sui" becomes real, ceases to be a mere name 
 — becomes effect of itself; and the act of self-determi- 
 nation, the negation of the abstract oneness, the 
 affirmative root of the effect. Hence, the conclusion 
 that while all determination is negation, all negation 
 is not negative. 
 
 August 7, 1856. 
 
 Sent for Mr. F as soon as he came down to the 
 
 office and showed him the sketch. He was sur- 
 prised and delighted — surprised at the rapidity with 
 which the man worked, and delighted with the de- 
 signs. He asked what the shadings meant on the 
 urn and shields. I explained to him that they were 
 to be plated, either in silver or nickel. 
 
 "But where is that to be done?" he asked. 
 
 "Here, Mr. F , in this very room, if you so 
 
 desire. I know the process and it is one of the 
 
 simplest operations in the labratory. All the plated 
 jewelry made in Providence, Rhode Island, is plated 
 by men who were students at the labratory of the 
 university at the same time with me. There is no 
 witchcraft about that." 
 
 "But these ornaments are handsome enough with- 
 out plating. Still, you must rig up the apparatus in 
 a small way and let me see how it operates." 
 
 "Now, Henry, do you think that if we get this man 
 to carve these designs in wood, the same way he did 
 that oven door, you can mold a set of patterns from 
 them with all this difficult ornamentation?" 
 
 "I certainly can. What is to hinder? We will 
 commence with the most difficult pieces first, so as 
 to convince ourselves of the practicability." 
 
 "That is right. Now you ascertain what he will 
 charge for the whole stove — but in the meantime let 
 him carve that urn anyhow." 
 
 Had a visit from Jochen, little Yetta and Henry. 
 They all took dinner with me. The children brought 
 me apples, pears and some excellent melons. But lit- 
 tle Yetta wanted to know where Aunt Elizabeth was, 
 as she had a whole basket full of things for her 
 especially. I got out of the embarrassing question as 
 well as I could. The visit cost me an hour and a 
 half, but I could not begrudge it. Sent kind greet- 
 ings to Feeka, and asked Jochen to explain to her 
 how I was situated — that it was impossible for me to 
 steal an hour out of the twenty-four, either day or 
 night. 
 
 August 8. 1856. 
 
 Mr. Olff's price proved satisfactory to Mr. F , 
 
 although I made him put on twenty-five per cent 
 above what he asked me — the man has no idea of 
 the value of his work, as is not unusually the case 
 
 with new comers. I told Mr. F what I had done. 
 
 He laughed and said that I had done right; he 
 would do the same to a fellow countryman under the 
 same circumstances. "Besides the work is worth the 
 money here, and to me!" 
 
 Determination — I use the term to express the 
 result of any spiritual activity — either mental, moral 
 or emotional — feeling, intuition, conception, fancy, 
 thought, volition — whatever is the result of emotion, 
 volition or cognition is expressed by this general 
 term. But when used in its objective sense, as it 
 is by Spinoza, it means the result of the self-determi- 
 nation of the universal, and hence the source of all 
 determinateriess. 
 
 It is when understood in this sense that the full 
 meaning of his "all determination is negation" be- 
 comes apparent. It sweeps the universe clean of 
 determined existence — of nature, no less than finite 
 spirit, man; and leaves for result the abstract one — 
 or at least, it was intended to do so. But the abstract 
 one is a determination of cognition, no less than any 
 other result of that activity. It follows, therefore, 
 from his definition that the abstract one is a nega- 
 tion. To avoid this conclusion he determines the 
 abstract one as "Causa Sui"; and pushes the contra- 
 diction between an affirmative cause and a negative 
 
72 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 eflfect to its final expression. For, in this determi- 
 nation we have the form and content antagonistic. 
 As form, it is a determination and therefore a nega- 
 tion, but its content, its meaning is that it is not a 
 determination, not a result of cognition, but a self- ^ 
 dependent above and beyond cognition — a conclusion 
 drawn in a variety of forms by Jacobi. Both con- 
 clusions, however, the one drawn from the form, and 
 the one derived from the content, are one and the 
 same abstract one — destitute of any predicate what- 
 soever. 
 
 August 9, 1856. 
 
 Had a pleasant surprise this morning from Mr. 
 
 F . He took me with him across the river, on a 
 
 long drive. It seems there is a project afoot to 
 build a canal from a coal field, some fifteen miles 
 distant, to the river, opposite the city, and he drove 
 over the ground to look at its feasibility. It is to 
 run with a creek called Cahokia, and I could not help 
 poking some fun at the projectors. But I found 
 him in bitter earnest. 
 
 "I'm surprised at you," said he, "with your idea 
 about the future of our city! What could be of 
 greater advantage to us than cheap fuel, and how is 
 that to be had without canal transportion?" 
 
 I asked him whether he had ever investigated the 
 thing called a railroad. He said he had, and that 
 in his opinion it would do very well for transporta- 
 tion where speed was a factor to be considered. 
 
 "But for heavy hauling, where time cuts no figure, 
 a canal will get away with a railroad every time." 
 
 I did not ask him in what department of human 
 affairs time cuts no figure, but told him that from 
 my investigation I was forced to the conclusion that 
 the last canal was built, and that nine-tenths of the 
 mileage now in operation would be abandoned in less 
 than fifty years. This remark made him laugh. 
 
 "At what rate," he asked, "do you think a railroad 
 can carry a ton of freight the distance of one mile?" 
 
 "That depends upon the character of the freight, 
 the distance it is to be hauled, and the nature of the 
 ground it is to be hauled over." 
 
 "What have these things to do with it?" 
 
 "A great deal. If the freight is heavy, compact, like 
 coal or iron, it can be hauled cheaper than when it is 
 light and bulky — for each car can store a full load. If 
 the distance it is to be hauled is long, there is no time 
 lost in loading and unloading. If the country over 
 which the hauling is to be done is level, with no, or 
 few streams to cross, the cost of building and main- 
 taining the road will be small. Take a country like 
 this, between the Illinois bluff and the river, and the 
 road ought to be built with track raised above high 
 water mark for twenty or thirty thousand dollars a 
 mile, while a railroad across the Allegheney Moun- 
 tains, of which there is some talk in the east,, may 
 cost any where between one and two hundred thou- 
 sand dollars per mile." 
 
 "Well, suppose you have the capital to build such 
 a road as you think best calculated for the purpose 
 of hauling coal between the bluff and the river, and 
 
 let her have all she can do, day and night, what could 
 you haul coal for so as to earn ten per cent upon your 
 money invested?" 
 
 "From the mines to the river?" 
 
 "Yes" 
 
 "Well, I think one-third of a cent per ton per mile." 
 
 "What, five cents a ton for fifteen miles haul?" 
 
 "It is rather high, I know, but then you have to 
 go back empty; you have to run thirty miles and get 
 pay only for fifteen." 
 
 "Will you give me the figures for that, Henry?" 
 
 "Certainly. You take—" 
 
 "No, not now. You give them to me in the morn- 
 ing — and then I should like to have them on paper." 
 
 I also made a discovery to-day that pleases me 
 very much. Ever since I came to tlie west and 
 south, from the time of my first trip, some ten years 
 ago, when I spent a month in the St. Francis swamp, 
 I have been puzzled by the peculiar channel which 
 streams cut out where they run through alluvial 
 plains, resembling very much the line of a worm 
 fence, as it is called in frontier phrase. The absence 
 of a straight course where a stream forces its way 
 through a hilly, rocky country, is a matter of no sur- 
 prise, on account of the resistance presented, now 
 on this and then on the other side, by masses of 
 unyielding material. But in an alluvial plain, where 
 the resistance presented by the banks is practically 
 the same on both sides, I could not account for the 
 singular, destructive habits so uniformly observable 
 along the rivers that fall into the Mississippi delta; 
 and from which the main stream is not excepted. All 
 the rivers, and especially those from the west, that 
 drain the eastern, southeastern and southern slopes 
 of the Ozark range, as they approach the delta from 
 their mountain gorges, widen their "bottoms," as 
 they are called, until they pass the last undulating hills, 
 when they commence their regular serpentine course, 
 wriggling from side to side, so that the straight 
 line of their general trend is crossed and recrossed, 
 frequently as often as three times in the distance of 
 one mile. This, of course, quadruples the distance 
 and causes four times as much land to be wasted in 
 furnishing a waterway for the drainage as nature 
 demands. The delta is covered with the heaviest 
 hard timber forest of Cottonwood, poplar, oak, ash, 
 walnut, pecan, hickory, hackberry, gum, cypress, 
 sycamore, sassafras and kindred species to be found 
 upon the continent. Through this the streams dan- 
 gle from side to side, as indicated, and at the apex 
 of each bend the bank is undermined and tumbled 
 into the water with whatever forest growth of giant 
 trees or underbrush there may be found growing 
 upon it. Not seldom it occurs that a tree as high as 
 six feet in diameter and sixty to eighty feet in length, 
 of solid timber, is held where it falls by sustaining 
 roots, on one end, that reach beyond the eroded 
 bank, and strong limbs sunk deep into the bed of the 
 stream, on the other. In every such case the fallen 
 and anchored tree forms a natural "boom," that 
 catches the drift set afloat by this process up stream. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 73 
 
 It aggregates this into a tangled mass of logs and 
 brush, until the winds of autumn bring the falling 
 foliage to filter in and fill the interstices, through 
 which the water up to that time has with difficulty 
 found its way. This done, the next flood seals the 
 whole with its silt, and the dam is complete. The 
 river is turned loose into the forest to seek anew the 
 line of least resistance to its destination. This some- 
 times involves a detour of a hundred miles and more 
 before it returns to its channel. The abandoned bed 
 becomes a stagnant slough, chiefly valuable to man, 
 or recognized by him, as propagating ground for 
 malaria. 
 
 Another result from this habit, no less destructive 
 than those described, is that every freshet as soon 
 as it arises above the banks of the stream, begins to 
 straighten the course of the latter, by connecting the 
 series of "bends" on both sides. In this operation 
 it excavates temporary channels from apex of bend to 
 apex, down the series. It also returns to the old bed, 
 mentioned before, by pouring over the dam, and 
 cuts off temporarily all the meanderings established 
 by the new. All these temporary channels, however, 
 are abandoned as the stream returns to its banks, 
 and left as sloughs, valuable as stated above. 
 
 Still another effect, with a similar result, is pro- 
 duced, when the erosion in two successive bends 
 continues, until the intervening tongue of land is 
 carried away. The river then pours through the 
 break; dams up the old channel and straightens its 
 course through the "cut-off" — shortening its channel 
 sometimes fifty miles or more. This is the origin 
 of the "Horse-Shoe Lake," one of which, at least, is 
 found in every neighborhood of the delta. 
 
 To find a clew to the real cause of these effects, 
 vtrhich mar one of the richest endowments which 
 nature has, and is storing up for the use of man the 
 alluvium of the Mississippi delta, was very pleasing, 
 especially as I had carried the problem about with 
 me for years. Still, there is nothing in it but the old 
 story. Familiar with a rocky, hilly, country from 
 my youth, I had seen in the character of the banks 
 alone sufficient ground for the character of the 
 channel of a stream, whether it was straight or 
 crooked. So, when I stand in the presence of a 
 phenomenon, where this source of explanation fails, 
 I still keep looking in the same direction, until I 
 stumble over the fact, have my very nose rubbed 
 against it, as it were. 
 
 While eating lunch to-day upon the bank of a 
 creek, called Cahokia, by the side of a considerable 
 pool, where we had stopped in order to have water 
 for our horses, I noticed that the upper end of the 
 hole had an unusual shape — as if it was the result 
 of a water-fall. I went to look at it and found an old 
 walnut log running slantingly across the creek, at 
 an angle of about forty degrees to the line of the 
 current. Both ends of the log were covered by the 
 banks of the creek, to the depth of over nine feet, 
 so that I had to recognize it as a drift deposited by 
 the river ages ago and which had been uncovered in 
 
 part of the superimposed mass of alluvium by the 
 action of the creek in excavating its channel. As the 
 erosion reached the log, it had been arrested above 
 the obstruction, and at the same time, accelerated 
 below by the fall of the water induced. There was 
 but little water running over the log, none on the 
 east end, where I was, and only a stream, some 
 four feet wide by twelve to fifteen inches in depth, on 
 the west end, which was depressed to that extent. 
 This depression of one end of the obstruction to the 
 excavating process had given a corresponding de- 
 pression to that side of the bottom of the channel, 
 and this in turn caused the water to rush against 
 the corresponding bank. Of course unequal erosion 
 of the two banks was the inevitable result, and the 
 course of the stream became zigzag. The banks of a 
 stream, therefore, are but effects answering to the 
 inclination of the plane of the bottom of the chan- 
 nel. This inclination is the primary cause in de- 
 termining the line of least resistance for the stream, 
 and in varying that line horizontally from a straight 
 to a curved one. 
 
 August 10, 1856. 
 
 Sent the figures on the cost of railroad transporta- 
 tion to Mr. F this morning. I obtained them 
 
 from a work on railroad construction, which appeared 
 recently in Lpndon. It gives the results of special 
 experiments, and also the general experience col- 
 lected from practical operations. He soon called over 
 and wanted to know where I got "those figures." 
 I told him. 
 
 "And you believe them reliable?" he asked. 
 
 "I know they are — only they are not likely to re- 
 main so long." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "They will be superseded by lower ones." 
 
 "Of course, there you are again. It's a mystery to 
 me, Henry, that a man like you, with good common 
 sense on every subject of ordinary interest, should 
 allow himself to be carried away the moment he is 
 called upon to look at anything that points to the 
 future and its development. There seems to be no 
 limit to your belief as to its possibilities; and yet 
 you are no visionary fool!" 
 
 "I tell you, Mr. F , the cause of this mystery. 
 
 It is such men as you who teach me the faith I 
 entertain as to the future. You have within the last 
 ten years revolutionized the kitchen by furnishing 
 it with new implements. Mr. McCormick only the 
 other day discharged every reaper from all the 
 harvest fields of all the world, and every mower from 
 all the meadows, to keep them company. Mr. Singer 
 
 and Mr. have discharged all the tailors and 
 
 sewing girls, or increased their productive capacity 
 from fifty to a hundred fold. Do you think this will 
 stop with what has been accomplished? How long 
 will it be that the shoemakers, the harnessmakers, 
 the saddler's awl will be where the tailor's needle is 
 today? How long before every implement used 
 upon the farm, in the mill, in the mine, in the shop, 
 in short — every implement of human industry, will 
 
74 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 be superseded, replaced by more effective ones, and 
 the world be born anew? 
 
 "And whence is this? Around me I see a people, 
 drawn as it were, by lot of destiny from all the 
 nations of the earth. The only condition attached 
 for the individual to become incorporated is that he 
 possess the courage to forsake the old and adopt the 
 new^to forsake the old, his home, the use and 
 wont of his fathers, dare a perilous voyage and not 
 tremble in the untrodden gloom of the wilderness. 
 There is not a man or woman upon this continent 
 whose blood is not freighted with this courage. They 
 could not be fathers and mothers here without it. 
 This people did not inherit a home; they built it; 
 wrought it out with their own toil. It is new! They 
 are furnishing it with new furniture — new imple- 
 ments. The same audacity that bore them beyond 
 the wont and use of their father's house, that caused 
 them to claim a continent for their home, and the 
 world for their enterprise, causes them to call in 
 question every method, every implement transmitted 
 from the past — because it is transmitted. 
 
 "Now, look at the natural resources upon the 
 watershed of the Mississippi alone, awaiting the 
 energy of this people, armed anew from day to 
 day." 
 
 "Great heavens, Henry, hush! There is more in 
 what you say than I can contradict, and I have no 
 doubt that if I had time to think over these matters, 
 as you do, I would be as great an enthusiast as you 
 are. 
 
 "I want to tell you, before I forget it, that I have 
 closed the matter of your paper — provided the land 
 turns out satisfactory to you. He deeds you the 
 
 half block of ground, three hundred feet front on 
 
 street, between Sixth and Seventh streets, and one 
 hundred and seventy-five feet front, on the same 
 street, commencing with the corner, in the next 
 block west; in addition to this, one section of land 
 
 in Co., 111. The property, at a fair valuation, 
 
 is worth about thirty-five per cent of the face of the 
 paper; but it is the best we can do. You must go 
 to-morrow, therefore, and look at the land. I have a 
 man who knows the country and he will go with 
 you. He will drive one of my teams to the wagon 
 we used yesterday. The trip will take you one day 
 going, one day coming, and a day to look around — 
 three days. My brother has given me a letter for you 
 to an old friend, who lives in the neighborhood, 
 with whom you can stay all night and he will show 
 you around." 
 
 I thanked him heartily, but demurred to the trip 
 on account of the loss of time. All he said, however, 
 by the way of answer, was: "You go! You need the 
 rest more than you think. You are killing yourself. 
 I am older than you. I have been through the mill 
 and know what it is." 
 
 And so I am ready for the trip to-morrow morn- 
 ing — provided I can get any rest to-night. 
 
 August II, 1856. 
 
 Reached the ferry in time for the second boat. 
 
 With sun up we crossed the bridge, across Cahokia 
 Creek, in East St. Louis, and turning south, followed 
 the east bank until we reached a small French vil- 
 lage of the same name. Here I discovered that I 
 had no lunch with me, and inquired of the driver 
 whether he knew of a place along the road where we 
 could supply ourselves. 
 
 "That is not necessary, your honor! The lady of 
 
 the house, Mrs. F , she packed the lunch basket 
 
 with her own hands, and told me to present it to 
 
 yourself with the compliments of Mr. F ," said 
 
 he. 
 
 And sure enough! I had noticed a basket in the 
 wagon, but did not know what it contained. A short 
 distance beyond Cahokia we passed another cluster 
 of cabins, called Prairie Du Po, and here we changed 
 our direction into a southeast course, which took us 
 diagonally across the American Bottom, to the foot 
 of the bluff. Here we struck a road that crosses the 
 bottom on a direct east and west line, striking the 
 river opposite Carondelet. After the junction the 
 two roads, or rather the one road holds a north and 
 south course, at the foot of the bluff — now and then 
 passing over some undulating spurs, that are not too 
 steep for fair driving. The road being in good con- 
 dition, we traveled at a sharp trot and made good 
 time, occasionally disturbing a turkey hen that was 
 utilizing the road as feeding ground for her young 
 brood. 
 
 It is a remarkable instinct that guides these birds 
 to keep their young chicks out of the grass and weeds 
 during the morning hours, when the dew is on, while 
 during the balance of the day such ground is their 
 favorite cover. I have learned from the experience 
 of the settlers that the early dew is fatal to the 
 young. But how the old bird has found this out, that 
 is the mystery. It may perhaps be that the chicks, 
 after exposure to the wet would annoy the mother 
 bird by trying to huddle, to warm themselves under 
 her plumage, and thus prevent her from feeding. 
 She, finding that they were as eager to feed on dry, 
 warm ground as herself, and that on such pasture 
 she was free from the annoyance, might perhaps 
 adopt the habit of seeking such ground exclusively 
 during these hours. However that may be, the fact 
 of the practice is beyond question; and it is also be- 
 yond question that the bird never loses its young 
 from sickness, caused by such exposure; while a 
 large percentage of the young of the domesticated 
 birds perish from this cause every season. 
 
 Mr. F 's driver is a good hand with the team, 
 
 not as good as Jochen, with his colts; but then 
 he has not had the raising and the educating of the 
 horses. He is a good and careful driver, and when 
 he halted under the shade of a large burr oak, by 
 the side of a fine spring of water, and told me that 
 we had made thirty-one miles, I could scarcely be- 
 lieve it, until I saw that it was 11 o'clock by his 
 watch. From indications it seems that this is a 
 general stopping place for travelers on this road. 
 When I remarked this to Pat, he said: 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 73 
 
 "Yes, and if your honor has no objections, I will 
 give the horses a bite to eat; and we can eat a mouth- 
 ful ourselves, and then take a rest for a couple of 
 hours, during the heat of the day. It is only twenty 
 miles farther to Mr. Pheyety's, and we can drive 
 that by 6 o'clock if we start by 3." 
 
 I consented cheerfully to this suggestion, and on 
 alighting from the wagon, found that the air within 
 a distance of from ten to fifteen feet of the spring 
 was perceptibly cooler than it was beyond that space. 
 This was owing to the temperature and the volume 
 of the water discharged by the spring. On testing 
 it with a small thermometer I found it stood at 
 sixty degrees, Fahrenheit. 
 
 When Pat had unhitched his team and given it the 
 neccessary attention, he brought out the lunch 
 basket, opened it and placing a camp stool conven- 
 ient, invited me to help myself; while he turned 
 around as if to look after the horses. I waited 
 a while until I found that it was his idea that I must 
 eat first, and by myself. I asked him whether he 
 did not intend to eat. He made all sorts of ex- 
 cuses, until I convinced him that I would not eat by 
 myself. 
 
 It is remarkable how early training will stick to a 
 man, and how its effects can be perverted by cir- 
 cumstances. Necessary and desirable under the 
 conditions under which they have their origin, they 
 may become farcical and untruthful when these con- 
 ditions change. I am satisfied the man feels him- 
 self the peer of anyone, as he in fact is, and yet he 
 has been "honoring" me all the way, and treating 
 me with a deference as if I were some superior 
 being. I said to him: 
 
 "Mr. Murphy, it is my habit to regard every man 
 who stands fair in the community as good as my- 
 self and no better. If there are things which I can 
 do better than he, there are others that he can do 
 better than I. As for the having — if one has more 
 than the other, the other has more to get, that is 
 all; and the having can never make a difference be- 
 tween man and man in a country where every one 
 has what he needs. 
 
 "There was a time in the history of man when 
 human excellence could be transmitted, and thus 
 perpetuated only by blood. It was at that time that 
 the wise seeing that the oak produces the oak, the 
 horse the horse, the dog the dog, and so throughout 
 nature concluded that like produces like. From this 
 they concluded further that if they mated the ex- 
 cellent with the excellent, excellence would result in 
 the offspring — just as we do to-day with our horses, 
 cattle and other animals. 
 
 "To do this with more certainty, they divided the 
 people into classes — into noble, less noble and com- 
 mon, and looked with disapproval upon the intermix- 
 ture of blood between these classes as subversive of 
 the purpose in view — the perpetuation and enhance- 
 ment of human excellence. 
 
 "But man is no longer dependent upon this method 
 
 of transmission. He has the printed page. All the 
 achievements of the wisest, the best, the noblest 
 of our race are the common inheritance of all — the 
 humblest and highest alike. They are transmitted 
 from mind to mind through the spiritual channels of 
 art, literature and religion, and all classification of 
 men to facilitate the transmission of human excel- 
 lence by blood falls to the ground before the spiritual 
 method that rules the world to-day. It only holds 
 its place on the brood farm. There pedigree is a 
 great matter. There we value the colt because of 
 the sire and dam; the calf, because of the bull and 
 cow. 
 
 "But who begot our inventors, the heroes of indus- 
 try? Who are the fathers and mothers of the men 
 who are transforming the world by the deeds of 
 their genius more effectually, more beneficently 
 than all the swords of all the conquerors, of whom 
 history gives such an elaborate and unprofitable 
 account? If you trace them back it is more than 
 likely you will find that they lived in some lowly 
 hovel in your own native country, or in mine — 
 lowly enough, indeed, far enough from their honors, 
 the nobility of the day, but that notwithstanding 
 their lowliness, they were true men and women, with 
 courage in their hearts to dare the unknown, the 
 untried." 
 
 "It is mighty nice alistening to you, it is, your 
 honor, but then it is hard for an old dog to learn 
 new tricks. I was raised to observe my place and it 
 is not for the likes of me to change the world!" 
 
 When we had finished eating, I strolled up a pro- 
 jecting spur of the bluff, which, destitute of trees, 
 afforded a fine view of the American Bottom. The 
 heavy forest, in full summer foliage, interrupted 
 here and there by lakes and streams, and less fre- 
 quently by the fresh clearings of the new settlers, 
 furnishes an interesting panorama. This clearing 
 is done by cutting away the underbrush and deaden- 
 ing all trees over eighteen inches in diameter. They 
 are chopped around, about thirty inches above the 
 ground, a cut deep enough to reach the hardwood. 
 In this condition they are left standing, and from the 
 distance, at this season of the year, they present the 
 appearance of patches of winter, transplanted into 
 the midst of summer — the leafless crowns in deep, al- 
 most spectral contrast with the color and life of the 
 surrounding forest. Under them the ground is culti- 
 vated, and, from year to year, the disintegrating 
 forces of nature bring down the wood-twigs and small 
 limbs the first season, the large branches the next, 
 and so on until in the course of si.\-, eight or at 
 farthest ten years, not a sign is left of even the 
 largest and most lasting specimens of oak. So 
 great is the disintegrating power of the climate in 
 this locality! But no wonder; here the growth of 
 vegetation is so rapid, decay must be in proportion, 
 or the equipoise would be destroyed! Still, it can 
 not be regarded as an invariable rule, for I have 
 observed an annual shoot of the bois d'arc, one of 
 the most durable of woods; and the center of whose 
 
76 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 habitat is about three hundred miles south of the 
 city of St. Louis, not less than thirteen feet and 
 three inches in length. While growth and decay, 
 therefore, may stand in the relation of opposites, in- 
 creasing and decreasing the one with the other, in the 
 rapidity of their process, there are practical excep- 
 tions to the rule. But I know of no exception where 
 the rule is applied to the same species, as for 
 example, the oak. Then it holds true that the slower 
 the growth, the more durable the wood produced; 
 and the more rapid the growth, the less durable the 
 result. 
 
 While thinking over these matters I had walked 
 up the spur and was approaching the line of the 
 main blufT, when I heard a noise in some hazel 
 brush that filled the head of the ravine or depression 
 to the left of me. A moment later I saw a deer, a 
 buck, clear the brush, making a few jumps on the 
 level of the plateau, and then stop to take a look at 
 me. He was not over ninety or a hundred yards 
 away and I had a good sight of him. His horns were 
 full grown, although still in the velvet, as I judged 
 from their mossy appearance. After he had satis- 
 fied himself as to the identity of the intruder, he 
 loped off at a leisurely pace, out of sight. I turned 
 to examine the brush and found his bed. It was 
 situated as usual at this season of the year — a dense 
 shade, edged with bright sunshine, to which he had 
 exposed his horns. The patch of brush was obvious- 
 ly a favorite retreat, as I counted no less than eight 
 different beds, in diflferent positions, as regards light, 
 shade and draft of air. It is the habit of this animal 
 to seclude himself during the time his horns are 
 reproduced — from March to the middle of Septem- 
 ber. The immense local development absorbs his 
 virility. He is incapable of propagating his species 
 during that period, and avoids the society of his 
 kind. It is a remarkable economy of nature that 
 the same powers should be utilized for such different 
 purposes. But I suppose that it is merely the gen- 
 eral condition of vitality and not the specifically 
 developed virility — the general possibility, that may 
 be devoted either to the reproduction of the species, 
 or to the reproduction of a member of the individual 
 organization. When the local development is com- 
 plete and the system returns to its normal vital 
 equipoise, then virility holds sway — the mating sea- 
 son opens. This withdraws the nutriment from the 
 horns, and the starved members at the end of the 
 season, January-February, drop off. But now the 
 mating season is over, the revulsion takes place and 
 the process repeats itself anew. 
 
 Something analogous is observed in other horned 
 beasts that are subject to annual seasons of deficient 
 nutriment, hardships and deteriorating exposure. The 
 wrinkles around the horns of our cattle are caused 
 by the arrest of the growth during the winter. In 
 climates where such arrest does not occur, the horn 
 is smooth. Similar effects, modified to mere depres- 
 sions, are produced upon the finger and toe nails of 
 human beings, by severe attacks of fever or sudden 
 
 shock to the nutritive process by which the system 
 is maintained. 
 
 While thinking of these things, I had returned to 
 the point of the spur overlooking the spring, and 
 saw Pat waving his hand, intimating that it was 
 time for us to start. I descended and we continued 
 our journey — not, however, without some sly hints 
 from Pat about a gentleman going out shooting, and 
 leaving his gun in the wagon. This was my return 
 for telling him of the fine buck that I had seen. We 
 rolled along at a brisk gait, our team refreshed by 
 the noon rest, good feed of oats, with abundant 
 spring water, and reached our destination by a little 
 after 6 o'clock. A mile or so back, before we 
 reached Mr. Pheyety's, we ascended the bluff, at the 
 foot of which we had been traveling all day, and 
 found his house in the edge of a belt of timber, 
 which skirts the prairie that stretches east and south 
 without visible limit, one unbroken plain of billowing 
 grass. 
 
 The old gentleman received us with true western 
 hospitality; but when he had read the letter from 
 
 Mr. F , whose man he recognized in my driver, 
 
 there was no end of kind attention to our comfort. 
 The next morning, as soon as the dew was off the 
 grass, we mounted a couple of horses and he showed 
 me the corners of the land. 
 
 "I selected it myself for Mr. L some years 
 
 ago, and know all about it," he remarked, as we 
 started. "For prairie land there is none better; but 
 I can't see how people can be so foolish as to at- 
 tempt to live on the naked prairie. But then they 
 are all Germans; they can't speak a word of English, 
 and they don't know any better." 
 
 The land is prairie, indeed, with grass knee and 
 in some places breast high to our horses. But the 
 western and northern lines run parallel with belts 
 of timber, one of which the northern line skirts 
 quite closely, cutting off small patches here and 
 there. Upon inquiry I found that this timber oc- 
 cupies a creek bottom not more than half a mile 
 wide from north to south, although extending some 
 eighteen to twenty miles from east to west. I also 
 learned that this is still government land, as it is cut 
 up considerably by ravines, which render it unde- 
 sirable for farming purposes. The western timber 
 from a half to three-quarters of a mile distant from 
 the western line of the land is the same belt in which 
 Mr. Pheyety lives, and covers the bluff, which con- 
 stitutes the constant bank of the Mississippi, al- 
 though in ordinary stages of water from eight to ten 
 miles east of the river. 
 
 Here I had another illustration of an opinion 
 which I formed ten years ago, that all these rich 
 alluvial plains owe their present condition, their 
 destitution of forest growth, to the agency of man. 
 Whenever the surface presents large fertile areas, 
 uninterrupted by extensive drainage systems, they 
 are prairies, made and kept so by the annual fires of 
 the Aborigines, who resorted to this method of con- 
 centrating the game. These fires produce what they 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 77 
 
 fed upon. They destroy the young forest growth 
 and reserve the areas exclusively for grass, which 
 once set is indifferent to their ravages, as they only 
 remove the old, the dead, or rather convert it into 
 ashes, the more readily assimilated by the new 
 plant. Hence, whenever we see timber on such plains, 
 we are sure to find one of two conditions prevailing, 
 either there is water in the immediate vicinity that 
 protects it from fire, or the ground is so poor, cut 
 up by ravines and ditches, that it does not produce 
 a growth of grass heavy enough to feed a destructive 
 fire. 
 
 In our morning's ride we flushed several broods 
 of prairie chickens, and as they were just right for 
 the table, I expressed a wish that I could shoot some 
 of them. Mr. Pheyety told me: 
 
 "You can get all you want in my stubble field this 
 afternoon; I wouldn't bother with them now." 
 
 We reached the house by dinner, which had been 
 waiting for us, and a right royal meal it was — a true 
 frontier table, without any attempt at city cookery — 
 a usual error of people out in the country when they 
 have guests from the city. They forget the zest 
 which simple change of diet adds to the appetite. 
 
 There is something attractive, enticing even, in 
 such a life, with its restful independence, its in- 
 exhaustible themes for thought. It speaks to my in- 
 nermost self; but for my life's traveling companion 
 I could wish for no better home. But home is not 
 without her and she, she does not fit here. To 
 bring her into a solitude, miles and miles away from 
 the helping hand of man, with all the contingencies 
 of life — I cannot think of it! 
 
 After dinner we took a long rest, until I was told 
 by one of Mr. Pheyety's sons that the birds were in 
 the field. I uncased my gun, which he admired 
 very much, and we started in search of the game. He 
 told me that they never shot them, as they had noth- 
 ing but rifles: 
 
 "Sometimes we catch a few in a trap when they 
 come to the corn shocks, in the winter." 
 
 VVe soon found the birds and it proved mere 
 slaughter, as they were wholly uneducated. In less 
 than an hour we had all we could use; although I 
 worked without a dog. My young friend, however, 
 made a fair retriever, as he never missed marking 
 down the dead birds accurately, so that we lost none. 
 I drew them on the spot, and when we got to the 
 house I filled them with nice sweet hay. This I re- 
 newed at night and hung them up in the free night 
 air. Next morning early I packed them with an 
 ample supply of hay in the lunch basket, protected 
 this from the sun during our drive and they arrived 
 
 in good condition at the house of Mrs. F , for 
 
 whom I killed them, by way of return, for the ex- 
 cellent lunch which she had been kind enough to 
 provide for us. 
 
 It was before sun-up when we started on our 
 return — after we had parted with our host and family, 
 with many kind words and urgent invitations "to 
 call again soon!" We watered our horses at our 
 
 former nooning place, but did not stop for rest until 
 we had driven some ten miles farther, as Pat wanted 
 to get from the bluff before the sun would beat 
 against it and give us the reflected heat. We reached 
 home at S o'clock and I sent a note to Mr. F- — - — 
 by Pat, expressing my satisfaction with the land 
 and his entire arrangement. 
 
 August 14, 1856. 
 
 Received a note from Mr. F this morning, 
 
 requesting me to call at his house. I found him 
 confined to his room, suffering from an attack of in- 
 digestion — incipient dyspepsia, I suppose. He was 
 very kind and introduced me to his wife, whom I 
 took the opportunity to thank for her kindness. But 
 she expressed herself as more than paid by the birds 
 I bad sent her in return. 
 
 "They are very fine; just the right size, and they 
 are so well preserved. I think the hay has added to 
 their flavor. We have never had birds that tasted as 
 nice!" she said. 
 
 I requested the privilege of sending her some more 
 of my spoils later on in the season, for that is my 
 failing. 
 
 "I will waste time, as some people think, in loafing 
 about with my gun!" 
 
 Mr. F directed me to take my paper, call on 
 
 Mr. L at his off'ice, and close up the transac- 
 tion at once. This I did and at 11 o'clock to-day I 
 filed my deed for the city property for record in the 
 clerk's office of the county of St. Louis. The other 
 
 one I sent by registered mail to the clerk of 
 
 county, Illinois, for the same purpose. I then came 
 by Mr. Olff's to see how he is getting along with 
 the urn. 
 
 I found him busy, painting a plaster cast that he 
 has made of it. It is beautiful. He has painted it 
 to resemble iron, and no one could tell it from a well 
 polished casting, without handling it. He promised 
 to send it down in the morning. I also asked Fritz 
 Obermeyer about a carpenter and builder and he 
 engaged to send me one, a friend of his. At this Mr. 
 Olff, who was present, asked whether I intended 
 to build. I told him "yes." 
 
 "Have you a plan of the building?" he inquired. 
 
 "No, but I have settled in my mind what I want." 
 
 "If you let me have the figures I will make you a 
 sketch of it," he remarked. 
 
 This suited me and I spent more than an hour 
 with him, explaining and adjusting what I want. I 
 then came by Elizabeth's and gave her all my good 
 news, which made us both very happy. 
 
 August IS, 1856. 
 
 Mr. Olff brought me the urn and also the sketch 
 of the house. He caught me in the act of arrang- 
 ing the plating apparatus, which I had bought, ac- 
 cording to instructions from Mr. F . Mr. Olff 
 
 seems not to be acquainted with the process. This 
 is rather surprising to me. 
 
 We went over the plans of the house together, 
 and after suggesting some alterations, he asked for 
 
78 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 what I would rent the upper floor, consisting of 
 six rooms, per month or year? I told him that I 
 thought it would bring from thirty to thirty-five dol- 
 lars a month, or four hundred, or in the neighbor- 
 hood of four hundred a year. He then suggested 
 that I build the house with a flat roof, so that he 
 could get light from above, and he would rent the 
 upper floor for himself and Mr. Obermeyer — he 
 would take a lease for five years. I directed him 
 to draw the plans for both the ordinary roof, and 
 for the one he proposed, and I would see what the 
 builder had to say about it. 
 
 He then examined the patterns on which I was at 
 work, and asked whether they had been hewn out 
 with a broad-ax? He also gave me some hints as 
 to how I could work to better advantage; and con- 
 vinced me before he left that he was perfectly famil- 
 iar with the method of making patterns with which 
 I had been experimenting — without saying as much 
 directly. 
 
 I then told him to go ahead with his work on the 
 rest of the carving for the parlor stove; and he left 
 with the understanding that he would bring or send 
 the modified plan for the house as soon as it was 
 finished. 
 
 August i6, 1856. 
 
 Mr. F came down to-day, for the first time 
 
 since his attack. I showed him the urn, with which 
 he was very much delighted. 
 
 "It will do for a mantle ornament, in the parlor 
 or dining room," he exclaimed. 
 
 I told him that I had no doubt that Mr. Olff in- 
 tended it for that purpose, or he would not have 
 made the mold for the plaster cast. I also told him 
 that the man was familiar with the method of mak- 
 ing patterns by help of plaster casts, and that I had 
 taken the responsibility of ordering him to go ahead 
 with the work on the parlor stove. 
 
 "That was right, Henry," said he. "There is noth- 
 ing to wait for, if you are convinced that the method 
 is a success." 
 
 I then showed him the apparatus for plating and 
 asked whether he had an hour's time to spare. He 
 told me he had. I then adjusted the battery and 
 suspended a pair of spurs, which I had bought for 
 Master Henry Hanse-Peter, and properly cleaned, 
 for the purpose, in the bath. In this, as I explained 
 to him, I had dissolved or reduced two Mexican 
 silver dollars. After the proper time, during which 
 we went over some of the patterns, which I had over- 
 hauled, I broke the current, and requested him to 
 take out the spurs. He seemed perfectly amazed at 
 the change. Nothing would do but I must let him 
 have them to send up home to his wife with the urn. 
 Of course, I could not object. I will get me another 
 pair for little Henry and plate them, too. 
 
 He then wished to see how the bath is prepared; 
 and after I had reduced a half dollar, which he 
 handed to me, in the acids he could not get tired 
 looking at the glass, asking: 
 
 "What has become of it. That stuflE looks like 
 water, just as it did before." 
 
 I told him that it was in there somewhere. 
 
 August 17, 1856. 
 
 Have been chafing and quarreling all the evening 
 with Mr. Stock, the builder. He has agreed, finally, 
 to take one-half, or nearly so, the cost of the build- 
 ing in ground, but will not allow more than thirty 
 dollars per foot for what costs me fifty. Have 
 offered him fifty feet in the center of the block be- 
 tween Sixth and Seventh streets and the western 
 fifty feet in the block west, between Seventh and 
 Eight, at forty dollars per foot. This would leave 
 me the three corners, each one hundred and twenty- 
 five feet square. 
 
 Also saw Mr. F and explained my plan to 
 
 him. He was kind enough to promise me the loan 
 of the money which I will need to carry it out. In 
 addition, he advanced me some three hundred dol- 
 lars to pay for the half section of timber land that 
 adjoins my purchase in Illinois, which I entered to- 
 day at the land office here. He was very much 
 pleased with this, "as it showed good sense, in mak- 
 ing my property complete, for practical use," as he 
 expressed it. 
 
 It will make six farms, of one hundred and sixty 
 acres each, and every one supplied with wood and 
 water. 
 
 August 18, 1856. 
 
 Closed my contract with Mr. Stock, the builder. 
 
 The house will occupy the corner of Sixth and 
 
 street. It will be two stories high, with finished base- 
 ment, which comes four feet above the ground. It 
 is sixty by twenty-five feet, with a double one-story 
 kitchen, in the rear. The lower walls are eighteen, 
 the upper thirteen inches, faced on both fronts with 
 stock brick. It will contain eighteen and with the 
 kitchens twenty rooms; lintels, sills and outside steps 
 of cut stone, and the area wall on both streets with 
 cut stone coping. It is planned for six tenements, 
 each with two rooms, and a kitchen. The whole im- 
 provement with substantial fence, brick pavements, 
 on both fronts and in the rear yard, woodshed and 
 outhouses to cost seven thousand three hundred and 
 twenty-five dollars; keys to be delivered to me on 
 December I, next. 
 
 Mr. F asked me why I made the walls so 
 
 heavy. I told him I would tell him if he would not 
 laugh at me. I then explained that the additional 
 expense at present was small, and that it would 
 facilitate any change which the future might suggest 
 as profitable; that if I wanted to arrange the place 
 for a business house, which the locality promised to 
 demand some time or other; it could be done at 
 little outlay. He smiled, shook his head and said: 
 
 "Well, I suppose you are content now. You have 
 got yourself into debt again, and keep your excuse 
 to live in your hole, to burrow as you have done." 
 
 "I certainly shall stay in my present quarters until 
 I am out of debt and after that we will see what 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 79 
 
 happens and act accordingly. It has perhaps escaped 
 
 you, Mr. F , that I have one of the pleasantest 
 
 rooms to be found in the city, so far as air, tempera- 
 ture, quiet and privacy are concerned, and these are 
 the essentials. The mere looks of the walls and 
 furniture — that cuts no figure, that adds nothing to 
 the essential comfort of a home." 
 
 August 19, 1856. 
 
 Saw Jochen to-day. He wanted me to go home 
 with him. I promised to meet him in the morning 
 with Elizabeth and spend the day at his house. 
 Called on my dear one this evening and made ar- 
 rangements for to-morrow. 
 
 There are two matters that I must note down be- 
 fore I forget them — the one is that a river excavates 
 its channel up stream, from the mouth toward the 
 head, instead of from the head toward the mouth, as 
 a person without close observation might suppose. 
 Nor is this confined to the action of streams only, 
 but it is also true of the course of human events, for 
 which they are sometimes used as similies. There, 
 too, the present, which may be regarded as the 
 mouth, the outflow, the outcome of the past, sinks 
 deeper from day to day into the meaning of the 
 spiritual life of the universe, and establishes the 
 banks of its course upon more and more enduring 
 lines. 
 
 The other matter is, that a man or a people who 
 habitually question the value of every method, pro- 
 cess or implement transmitted to them from the 
 past, simply because it is transmitted, while in an at- 
 titude to accomplish much, run the risk of bemg 
 irreverent. From such a condition, which is most 
 deplorable for both an individual and a people, there 
 is no escape but through thought. 
 
 August 20, 1856. 
 
 Met Jochen, with my dear one, according to ap- 
 pointment, at the usual time and place, and on the 
 
 way home I related to him my trip to county 
 
 a week ago, and also told him the amount of land I 
 bought and entered. He whistled, muttered to him- 
 self and gave every indication of being highly grati- 
 fied with what he learned, but said not a word — as 
 is his custom when driving his colts. Now and then 
 he ejaculated: "Narren tant" — that is, "fool's 
 folly," as near as it can be rendered into English — 
 but he said this only to himself. On reaching the 
 gate we fotmd little Yetta and Henry awaiting us 
 with great impatience, and had to listen to a long 
 complaint from Yetta, addressed to Uncle, that 
 "Papa stole away and did not take her with him; 
 and it was Sunday, too; and that she had a great 
 mind of being mad at him." 
 
 Mrs. Hanse-Peter also came to receive us at the 
 gate, with her usual cordial smile, but she was not 
 as bright this morning as customary; she was suf- 
 fering from a headache. While eating breakfast 
 Jochen ordered the horses to be changed. 
 
 "You see, Henry," said Jochen, "you and me will 
 
 drive over to the church. There is preaching to-day 
 on the ridge, and the women folks can keep house 
 by themselves. Feeka has one of her headaches and 
 Miss Elizabeth can stay with her, and Henry — ^she 
 can't understand our preaching nohow." 
 
 This arrangement, although at first demurred to 
 by the ladies, and in a special manner by the children, 
 was finally acquiesced in, which Jochen accepted in a 
 kind of matter of course manner. As soon as break- 
 fast was over we started, and when we got beyond 
 the last gate he remarked: 
 
 "See, Henry, I took these horses because I can 
 drive and talk at the same time; but I can't do that 
 and I ought not to do it with the colts. 
 
 "Now, that land you bought — that is a great mat- 
 ter. I know it. I worked for old man Pheyety dur- 
 ing one whole harvest. He lives only eight miles, as 
 the crow flies, from Krome, our old neighbor from 
 Doerren. The great thing is that wood land. Mr. 
 Pheyety, somehow, always allowed it to be under- 
 stood that he owned it, and there is not a stick of 
 timber cut on it but by him, and he touched it very 
 lightly — always saving it like, intending to buy it, 
 no doubt. Well, sonny, this is all right. There isn't 
 a finer location between here and Cairo. It's good 
 enough for a prince. But, sonny, you must promise 
 me one thing." 
 
 "What is that, Jochen?" 
 
 "You promise me that you will never sell a foot of 
 it! Yes, you promise me that! You see, sonny, peo- 
 ple grow; but land don't. Folks here think there 
 is no end to it; but you and me know better. We 
 have seen your father pay eighteen hundred dollars 
 an acre for land that can't produce half the crops 
 with manure that it produces without." 
 
 "But what in the world can I do with it? I can 
 not farm myself; and then I have all that vacant 
 property in the city that must be improved in order 
 to bring in money." 
 
 "What property in the city?" 
 
 I explained to him the extent of my acquisition. 
 
 "All the better for that, Henry; all the better for 
 that. Now, that is something like. That begins to 
 look like you. "Narren tant" — I told you they 
 didn't get you when they got your money. But come 
 now, you promise me that you will never sell that 
 land, and I will show you what we can do with it. 
 Give me your hand, sonny, that you will never sell 
 that land as long as it does not bring you the whole 
 money that them fellows stole from you." 
 
 I gave him my hand and made him the promise. 
 
 "Now, sonny, you see, that is the reason we are 
 going to church to-day. 'Fresh eggs, good eggs,' as 
 your father used to say. God's blessing is always 
 worth picking up; and our Mr. Pastor has inquired 
 about you, and I have had to explain and to ex- 
 plain why you didn't come to church. Now, he is a 
 good man and he has several blessings about him 
 that we may as well pick up. 
 
8o 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "He has been after us for some time, the older 
 settlers, I mean, who are beginning to get along in 
 the world, to pick up a little for a rainy day — to 
 put a sum of money together for him to buy land 
 with. He wants to rent it out to new comers and 
 new beginners among our people; to give them a 
 chance to earn a home for themselves. Do you see 
 anything now, sonny?" 
 
 "No, I do not. I am not familiar with the situation. 
 But let me hear further." 
 
 "You sec, we go to church and after service I tell 
 him that I have found something for him. Then I 
 explain that you have a thousand acres of land — 
 you see, sonny, you must buy the forty acres to 
 make it a round thousand — a thousand acres, where 
 he can settle twenty families on, if he wants to. 
 Forty acres is enough for a beginner; Witte and 
 Krome had no more. We give them a five-year 
 lease, the first three years free of rent, on condition 
 that they put up the necessary buildings and fences; 
 and put the land under cultivation. The fourth and 
 fifth year they pay you seventy-five cents an acre a 
 year rent. After that your farms are complete and 
 the people will want to buy them, and they will have 
 something to pay for them with, in part at least, if 
 not entirely. 
 
 "You see we will divide it into four farms, three 
 eighties or two hundred and forty acres to the farm. 
 That makes it a quarter of a mile wide and a mile 
 and a half long — not as close together as might be, 
 but other things make up for that. The houses are 
 built in front of the timber, on the north line of the 
 farming land, where they are sheltered from the 
 north wind in the winter and have a free draft of air 
 in the summer. That is a great matter for both man 
 and beast. They will also be convenient to water — 
 but you and me have to go out and locate the build- 
 ing places. These four farms can be cut up into as 
 many pieces as they please, for the present. That is 
 a matter for them to consider. Next year, this time, 
 there shan't be a tuft of prairie grass on the land, 
 if we live and have our health." 
 
 We arrived in sight of the church before we got 
 through building air castles; and yet there was noth- 
 ing very extravagant or impracticable in his scheme, 
 when I came to examine it during service. This 
 proved a little tedious to me. The trouble is that I 
 learned the principles and doctrines in the form in 
 which they are presented from the pulpit to-day 
 when I was a child at school, where the Bible was 
 our only reader. At fourteen years of age I could 
 correct from memory any misquotation from its 
 pages. The inner meaning of the Christian creed, 
 its profound theory of the universe, breathed into its 
 conceptive forms by the fathers of the church, from 
 the works of the ancients, from Plato, Aristotle, 
 Plotinus, Proclus and the rest, and which the 
 course of the world in its progress only serves to 
 verify more and more clearly to thought, is as much 
 a mystery to the preacher as it is to the congrega- 
 tion. He treats the conceptive forms of poetry and 
 
 representative thought, the technique of poetry, as 
 dry, sober prose, and leads what germs of thought 
 are awakened here and there among his hearers into 
 endless difficulties. They look for help but find none, 
 for he has nothing but the formal logic, which itself 
 is helpless, without flat assumptions. It serves, how- 
 ever, to clean their minds of rubbish, to sweep the 
 granary of the soul clean of whatever chaff pre- 
 sents itself to sight, but in this process the grain 
 beneath and not in sight is liable to go with it. This 
 gives us the rhetorical inanity of the press, litera- 
 ture,, forum and pulpit. 
 
 "There is no holy of holies in man and no priest- 
 hood to attend its altar" is the well-founded assur- 
 ance of the thought of the day. 
 
 After the close of the service, the minister shook 
 me by the hand with a special fervor of welcome, 
 and as soon as the opportunity was offered, the 
 crowd having retired, Mr. Hanse-Peter broached the 
 subject nearest his heart. But he had hardly begun 
 when Mr. Witte came up and insisted that we go 
 home with him for dinner, this being pastor's day 
 at his house — that is, when the minister dines with 
 him. This being the case, we took the preacher in 
 our wagon with us and drove down. On the way 
 Jochen opened the matter to him, in detail. But all 
 he said in response was: "Ah, the good God, he 
 still lives. We of little faith!" When we arose from 
 the table, however, he launched out into a regular 
 sermon, directed at Witte and Jochen. He showed 
 them how the Almighty Father of all was not de- 
 pendent upon the good will of any special set of 
 any of his children, but that when he wanted to 
 accomplish a good work, he could find the means 
 where man least expected it. Here he, the minister, 
 had been laboring for more than a year to get the 
 means to help those who could not help themselves. 
 And when he was well nigh discouraged, not because 
 of the hard-heartedness, but because of the hard, 
 the close-fistedness of his children, the good God 
 sent him help from an entirely unlooked for quarter. 
 
 Yes, he raised up friends that assisted Mr. B 
 
 to his own, and then gave him light to see far enough 
 to help his fellow men while he was helping him- 
 self—God's hand was as clear as the noonday sun 
 in the whole matter. 
 
 At first I did not see his drift, but it soon appeared. 
 It was nothing less than to inform his two friends 
 that he confidently relied on them to set a good 
 example to the rest of the brethren, in furnishing 
 teams and implements to assist those he intended to 
 settle on the land. 
 
 He then turned to me and wanted to know the 
 terms on which the land could be had. I told him 
 I would leave that to Messrs. Witte and Hanse- 
 Peter, as they were more familiar with what was 
 customary, and that I asked no more. They soon 
 agreed upon the conditions, which Jochen had de- 
 tailed to me, as fair to all parties. This proved satis- 
 factory to Mr. Pastor and we agreed that I should 
 make out leases to four persons, to be recommended 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 8i 
 
 by the minister, for two hundred and forty acres 
 each; that they should have the privilege of sublet- 
 ting to such persons as Mr. Pastor might recom- 
 mend — themselves being responsible for the fulfill- 
 ment of the conditions of the lease. 
 
 With these arrangements fairly understood we said 
 "good-bye," and Jochen felt a foot taller, at least. 
 
 "Yes, yes; see, sonny! He is a good man. He 
 helps the people to help themselves. We will have 
 to furnish the teams and plows to break the land, 
 but not for nothing. They have to pay us in work. 
 He will see to that. He will see to that. The man 
 or woman that will not work when he or she can 
 is not a member of his church. He would not know 
 them. 
 
 "But now, 'Sonny, we must run over to the land 
 not later than next Monday. We will start Saturday 
 morning and be back Monday night. We will go 
 to Krome; take him with us; show him the building 
 sites; and he can attend to everything for us. He 
 speaks the language and can understand our people. 
 Then, Sunday, we drive over to Mr. Pheyety and 
 stop with him over night. Now, you make yourself 
 ready for this." 
 
 I agreed to do so and then spoke about the details 
 of the leases — the conditions, etc. 
 
 "That is not necessary," said he. 
 
 "You don't need a scratch of the pen. We tell 
 Mr. Pastor what we want and he will attend to the 
 rest. You need not to think, sonny, he is a fool; he 
 knows his people. A man that don't do as he tells 
 him don't get any help from him. And then, you 
 know, he sends the black fellow (the devil) after 
 them, and that helps — helps better than to send the 
 constable or sheriff. A member of his church that 
 goes to court is no friend of his." 
 
 "That's all very well, Jochen, but then you know 
 there is such a thing as death in the world; and I 
 have adopted the practice, ever since I met with 
 that loss, to do business simply on business princi- 
 ples, as far as the legal side of it is concerned. That 
 does not imply any distrust, but it means that man- 
 kind in their experience of more than a thousand 
 years have found it profitable and safest to adopt 
 and follow these rules. It is for the protection of 
 all parties concerned. It does not reach the essence, 
 or the meaning of the contract. In that we can be 
 as liberal as we choose, but the form, it should be 
 legally perfect. That places it above the contin- 
 gencies of life and death, and beyond the whims and 
 changes of purpose, to which we all are subject." 
 
 "Nay, as to that, Henry, you are right. A man who 
 knows these things himslf, he is a fool, if he de- 
 pends upon somebody else. I only meant as long 
 as Mr. Pastor is alive, we will have no trouble." 
 
 "But did you notice, sonny, how he threw for the 
 ham with the sausage?" (A great saying among 
 these people. It means that a person concedes a 
 small to gain a greater point or thing). 
 
 "How the good God got you friends to help you to 
 get back a part of what was stolen from you." 
 
 He forgot to say that the same good God permitted 
 the stealing first. 
 
 "Jochen, we can not expect that he should remem- 
 ber everything. He, at least, accomplishes good pur- 
 poses, and whether his theory is correct or not, if it 
 helps him to do that, or if he believes that it helps 
 him, and so makes his task easier, why should we 
 quarrel over it? His theory may have many flaws, 
 but his actions have none. They help us to trans- 
 form a wilderness into a home for civilized men; 
 and it occurs to me that that is more than the most 
 beautifully consistent theory about abstract truth 
 ever did or ever will do." 
 
 "That may be so, Henry, but then you know he 
 ought not to think that he is talking to children all 
 the time. When I plant my crops at the proper time 
 on land well prepared, 'tend them right, take care 
 of my stock well, and see to it that I am not swindled 
 out of my earnings by sharpers — in all this, I do and 
 only obey the will of God Almighty and His bless- 
 ings follow my obedience. And when Mr. Pastor 
 says so, I believe him. But when he comes with 
 long rigmaroles about this and about that, and 
 about the other, and all to get me to put money 
 into things that I know nothing about, you see, 
 Henry, I can't see God's will in that. I believe God 
 wants me to keep what I earn. In that I can see 
 His blessing, and I am not going any further than 
 I can see." 
 
 With this peculiar confession of faith, we reached 
 home with everybody happy at our return. 
 
 "Coffee is on the table waiting for you. Uncle!" 
 was little Yetta's greeting — sweetened with a kiss. 
 We had scarcely sat down to the table, when we 
 were interrupted by the rattling of a wagon, and on 
 looking out saw Mr. Pastor and Conrad Witte at 
 the gate. They had followed us to talk over some 
 matters of detail that had suggested themselves after 
 we had gone. They related chiefly to the time when 
 operations should commence; as in the opinion of 
 Mr. Witte prairie ought to be broken in July or 
 August and not later than the first part of Septem- 
 ber; and there was not a day to be lost. He ex- 
 plained to us that turning the heavy sod with the 
 roots to the sun during this, the dry season of the 
 year, killed the grass effectually, rotted the sod 
 and pulverized the ground, ready for next spring's 
 crop; while prairie broken at any other time would 
 take double work, and the ground would not be in 
 as good condition for years. 
 
 "That stands to reason," said Jochen, "and the 
 whole depends on you, Mr. Pastor. The land is 
 all ready. It is bought and paid for and the people 
 can go to work to-morrow if they are prepared. 
 Have you selected your men?" 
 
 "That is one of the reasons we came after you," 
 said the minister. "We have agreed upon three out 
 of the four, but Mr. Witte has doubts about Henry 
 Luebke, who is one of the men, who would be 
 glad of the chance, and is ready to go to work, I 
 suppose, in a few days." 
 
S2 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Conrad objects to him?" asked Jochen. 
 
 "Yes; and I suppose you can surmise the reason!" 
 answered the minister. 
 
 "Certainly I can," said Jochen, "but that is a ques- 
 tion for you to decide. Let him who is without 
 stones cast the first rock. I ain't a pitching any! 
 The way of the transgressor is a corduroy road any- 
 how. It will churn their cream into butter milk 
 soon enough. Henry is a good man and his wife, 
 poor girl, is industrious and a good house-keeper. 
 They got over the traces, but haven't they done 
 what they could to make it good. We are all flesh 
 and blood, flesh and blood. I'm not a throwing 
 rocks, Mr. Pastor." 
 
 "That is all right," said Conrad Witte, "but I want 
 Henry to know, and then he can decide. I believe 
 them to be good people, but I am not selecting 
 tenants for myself. Henry ought to know and then 
 he can decide." 
 
 Mrs. Hanse-Peter had found something for her- 
 self and Miss Elizabeth to look at in the garden, 
 and the two had left the table as soon as she heard 
 the drift of the conversation — and I hope that if ever 
 some curious chamber maid should feel called upon 
 while cleaning my rooms to spy among my papers, 
 she may light upon this fact, that such a worthy 
 example may teach her manners. 
 
 Of course I had surmised the facts of the case and 
 told them that they must have misunderstood me. 
 
 "All I want, Mr. Pastor, is your recommendation — 
 the misstep of the two young people, if they recog- 
 nize the error and give proof by their conduct that 
 they do recognize it, is nothing to me. It is a 
 serious misfortune to them, or may become such if 
 not honestly cast from them. But I cannot increase 
 that misfortune by recalling to life what every true 
 man can only wish buried out of sight." 
 
 "Said like a Christian gentleman," ejaculated the 
 minister, while catching my hand. "Still, Mr. Witte 
 was right, too. You have a right to know the people 
 to whom you intrust your property." 
 
 "Here then are the four names to whom you can 
 make the leases: Henry Luebke, F. W. Knickmeyer, 
 W. F. Spassman and George F. Lerke What do you 
 think of them, Mr. Hanse-Peter?" 
 
 "Three of them I know, Lerke I do not. The 
 others have either worked for me, or I have worked 
 with them for other people. They would have had 
 their own homes long ago, as well and as good as 
 the best of us, if it had not been that their earnings 
 went to keep their parents from starving in the old 
 country, while their own chance of getting cheap land 
 was slipping away. I am ready to stand for three of 
 them and will help them with teams, tools and if 
 necessary with a little money. They will not need 
 much and I have but little." 
 
 "Lerke is all right," said Witte. "I know him; 
 Jochen, I will do a neighbor's part by them with 
 you and so will Krome and the rest." 
 
 "How far is the land from Mr. Krome's?" asked 
 the parson. 
 
 "Between four and five miles," said Jochen, "and 
 they will have to stay there until they get their 
 cabins up. You will have to attend to that, Mr. 
 Pastor." 
 
 "That is not necessary, Mr. Hanse-Peter," said 
 Witte. 
 
 "At this season of the year they can camp out 
 for a night or two." 
 
 "That is true," said Mr. Pastor, "and when can 
 you go to select the building sites?" 
 
 "We have agreed to go Saturday morning next," 
 said Jochen. 
 
 "No, you must not go later than Friday. I will 
 meet you at Krome's with the people on Saturday 
 morning — or if you say so, on Friday noon. You 
 can start at 3 o'clock in the morning and reach 
 Krome's at 12 meridian. That gives us the afternoon 
 to look over the land and the men can be at work 
 cutting house logs Saturday morning. I preach in 
 the prairie next Sunday and will get our brethren 
 to help put up the cabins on Tuesday. By a week 
 from next Thursday they must be in their houses, 
 and by a week from next Friday the breaking must 
 commence, and we must see how many plows we 
 can start." 
 
 We accepted the suggestion, and after an hour 
 spent in general conversation, in which Miss Eliza- 
 beth was not forgotten — for the eye of the parson 
 had detected the relation existing between her and 
 myself — owing to its professional training, as I told 
 him by way of return banter — we started for the 
 city. 
 
 Before Jochen and I separated, we agreed to meet 
 at 5 p. m. on Thursday next, at the Cahokia bridge — 
 that being regarded by him as the best arrange- 
 ment. 
 
 August 21, 1856. 
 
 Have drawn the first lease and feel tired out. I'll 
 have to copy it seven or eight times, and such work 
 is a nuisance to me — but it must be done. 
 
 August 22, 1856. 
 
 Have got myself into deeper trouble than ever. 
 Received a very polite note from Mr. L , re- 
 questing me to be kind enough to call at his office 
 during the course of the day. When I called he told 
 me he hoped I would pardon him for giving me the 
 trouble, but that he had observed yesterday that I 
 was preparing to build on one of the lots that I had 
 bought from him, and as he was largely interested 
 he would like to know the character of the im- 
 provements that I proposed to put up in the locality. 
 
 "Your own interest," he went on to say, "is large 
 enough, Mr. B , to make it a matter of im- 
 portance to you to see the neighborhood protected 
 against cheap structures, that have a tendency to 
 depreciate instead of enhance the value of prop- 
 erty. Mr. F has told me that you are a gen- 
 tleman of sense and character, and I thought it 
 might be well if we compared views to see if we 
 could not co-operate for our mutual protection." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 83 
 
 I thanked him, explained the character of the 
 house contracted for, in a general way, and told 
 him that I should always deem it a high privilege 
 to consult with him and avail myself of his ex- 
 perience, so much more extended than mine, in any 
 future improvements that I might be able to make. 
 This seemed to please him, and when I told him 
 that the present contract called for an expenditure 
 of over seven thousand dollars, and would in my 
 opinion run up fully to eight before I got through, 
 he was actually elated. 
 
 "That is a great deal of money in these times, 
 when money is to be had nowhere, and you will 
 get a good house and the neighborhood a fine start. 
 But what do you think of the land over in Illinois? 
 I'm your neighbor there, too. I own four sections 
 down the township line east of you. I have never 
 
 seen it. What do you think of it? Mr. F told 
 
 me that you went to see it the other day." 
 
 "I only know it as naked prairie. I am not a 
 judge in such matters, and only went out to look 
 
 at the land in order to please Mr. F . I took 
 
 the land because it was better than nothing; it was 
 
 the best I could do. But I told Mr. F to close 
 
 the matter before I saw the land." 
 
 "But you have seen it now, and do you think that 
 five dollars an acre is too much for it? What do 
 you intend to do with your tract?" 
 
 "I am not prepared to say. I am satisfied, how- 
 ever, that it is not worth five dollars an acre, because 
 you have oflfered it at that and have not sold — as 
 your agent, Mr. Pheyety, told me." 
 
 "But couldn't you sell it? You speak German, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, but I'm a poor hand at a bargain. I can 
 sell a thing for what it is worth, and a man that 
 can not do better than that has no business to med- 
 dle with trade." 
 
 "Five dollars an acre was my price," said he, "at 
 retail, in eighty acre lots; but I might sell for less, 
 especially in these times, if I could make a lumping 
 trade — say the four sections and a half. I see I 
 own a half section west of you which I had over- 
 looked. What do you think the whole ought to be 
 worth, just as it lays clear of all encumbrances?" 
 
 "How long have you held the land?" 
 
 "Eight years by the fifteenth of next month," he 
 said, after referring to his book." 
 
 "I noticed at the land oflfice the other day that 
 you entered it with land warrants. What were they 
 worth at the time?" 
 
 "I do not remember; I think in the neighborhood 
 of sixty-five cents. Why?" 
 
 "I wanted to get some data in order to answer 
 your question. You have made no sales and I know 
 of none outside of the government ofTice. Suppose 
 we allow ten per cent interest upon your invest- 
 ment, compounded annually, and I think, without 
 knowing it, that money in small sums ought to be 
 worth that in a new country, your land would be 
 
 worth in the neighborhood of a thousand dollars a 
 section." 
 
 The upshot of the matter was and is that I came 
 away from his office with a "title bond" in my 
 pocket, that entitles me to call for a deed within 
 thirty days from date for the four sections east of 
 me and the half section west, between me and the 
 bluff, on the payment of five thousand dollars — one- 
 third cash and the balance in one and two years, 
 with six per cent interest. On the first payment I 
 have paid fifty dollars cash, which I lose if I fail to 
 close the contract by the time specified. That is the 
 trouble I have got myself into. 
 
 August 23, 1856. 
 
 Have finished the last lease. Got a leave of 
 
 absence from Mr. F without explaining the 
 
 nature of my business. He is very kind. Remarked 
 when I asked him for a leave: "Your health is of 
 more importance than a few tons of iron." He is 
 busy with the plating apparatus. I have shown him 
 how to use it and he is very much interested. What 
 a student such a man would have made in the labra- 
 tory! Sent a note to my dear one, explaining my 
 trip and absence. 
 
 August 24, 1856. 
 
 Met Jochen promptly at the time and place ap- 
 pointed. 
 
 "So! Here you are, sonny! But what do you 
 want to do with that?" pointing to my valise. 
 
 "I don't know but what I may have to go to 
 
 M , the county seat of county, before 
 
 I get back; and so I brought me a suit of business 
 clothes, Jochen." 
 
 "That's right. You want them anyhow, because 
 you have to go to church next Sunday. You can't 
 leave the settlement without seeing the people — that 
 wouldn't do, never in the world!" 
 
 Before we had finished talking I was in my seat 
 and the team was in full motion. 
 
 "Why in the world have you put the top on the 
 wagon, Jochen? It is a regular nuisance. A per- 
 son can't see a thing except right ahead." 
 
 "I didn't know, sonny, but what you might want to 
 sleep in the wagon to-night. You see, I filled it full 
 with hay and I have some blankets and things with 
 me. We must get to the land and have our work 
 done before the rest come. 'Many heads, many 
 opinions' as the saying is — and it is your land. We 
 want the thing laid out to suit us. Now, we will 
 drive to the big spring, where you ate dinner the 
 other day, as you told me, before we stop to-night. 
 There we will put up. You turn in on the hay and I 
 know a good place where I can sleep. You see, 
 sonny, in that way you will not find the top incon- 
 venient; and we don't have to drive about out of our 
 way to find a place to roost. We will be on the land 
 in the morning, as soon as we can get about, on 
 account of the dew. I have a coffee pot with me 
 and a frying-pan, and Feeka has put up something 
 to eat for us. We are all right. You have your gun 
 and I have my blunder-buss, and may be we'll see 
 
84 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 something along the road that will help to make the 
 pan smell. Narren tant, Henry! I wouldn't take 
 five dollars for the trip. It makes me feel as we used 
 to when we went out on Sundays huckleberry hunt- 
 ing. You remember the fun we used to have?" 
 
 "Yes, Jochen. It just occurred to me as you spoke, 
 and I have had occasion to remember one of those 
 trips a good many times in the course of my life. 
 Do you remember the Sunday morning you scolded 
 me?" 
 
 "No, I never did, Henry, I never scolded you; I 
 always liked you too well for that." 
 
 "Well, it was not right down scolding, but I have 
 never forgotten it. You remember the morning 
 when you begged mother so hard to let me go with 
 you, promising that you would take good care of 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes, I remember; but I never scolded you." 
 
 "Well, when we got to the 'Beach Berg,' some 
 forty or fifty of us, streaming over the meadows 
 into the woods, screaming, running and yelling, with 
 our baskets flying about in the air and our bright tin 
 buckets blazing in the sun, I got ahead of most of 
 the little ones in the crowd." 
 
 "Of course you did, I remember that; you always 
 could run like a rabbit — but I never scolded you." 
 
 "I soon found some berries and one bush of great 
 big ones, and commenced: 'Here they are, here 
 they are! Just look at them! How big they are!'" 
 
 "'Hush up, you little fool! 'Tis time enough to 
 holler when we have got them in our baskets!' you 
 said, coming up — and you can't deny it." 
 
 "No, sonny, no. I don't deny that. Narren tant! 
 That wasn't scolding! That was only trying to teach 
 you some sense!" 
 
 "And that is the reason I have not forgotten it, 
 Jochen; in fact, that is the reason I remembered it 
 this morning. It has done me excellent service 
 sometimes." 
 
 "But tell me, do you think that Mr. Pastor will 
 get these people that he was talking about?" 
 
 "Get them? Yes, and twenty more if he had land 
 to put them on. You know how it is at our old 
 home. What did I get at your father's? And you 
 know he paid as good wages and gave his people a 
 better table than anybody about. I got eight dollars 
 a year, not our dollars here, but Prussian dollars, 
 worth sixty-five cents a piece. I also got nine yards 
 of linen, worth about eight cents a yard, and a 
 pair of shoes as my year's wages — and I quit head 
 man on the farm. What is the use of talking. If 
 they had only the means to get here, you know we 
 could fill the state of Illinois. I don't know how 
 big it is, but all that I have seen of it wouldn't hold 
 those that would come from our own neighborhood 
 alone. 
 
 "Now, you see, those that get here, when they 
 come, can't speak the language; and they go to the 
 settlements, where they have acquaintances. That 
 puts them all in a pile, like a swarm of bees. That 
 makes wages cheap and the land dear, because the 
 
 few who have something when they come here, they 
 buy what land is in sight. In a few years they are 
 like calves tied to a stake. They have got all the 
 land that is to be had in the neighborhood and they 
 can't and wouldn't leave, because they can't speak 
 the language, to go where there is land. You see, 
 they eat up the grass as far as the rope reaches, and 
 then they go round and round the stake, licking their 
 chops, at what is in sight, but not in reach. And 
 the preachers, they don't like for them to leave 
 neither. They want them huddled together. They 
 can manage them better that way. They will do 
 anything to keep them together." 
 
 "But tell me, Jochen, how is it, can they raise 
 wheat on the prairie land? When I was here twelve 
 years ago and wrote you that letter about this coun- 
 try, the people that I found here then told me that 
 they could not raise wheat; that as soon as July came, 
 it fell down and died with some kind of disease." 
 
 "They didn't know when to sow it. Krome, the 
 first of our people, or for that matter of any people 
 who settled in the prairie, told me a week ago last 
 Sunday that he would thresh thirty bushels to the 
 acre this year. Narren tant,, Henry, the man is coin- 
 ing money! He will thresh twelve hundred bushels 
 of wheat this year. Take it one year with another 
 and he makes a thousand dollars a year off forty 
 acres of wheat. Narren tant, it is coining money, 
 I tell you!" 
 
 "And now they are talking about a new cradle, or 
 something of that kind — when a man can cut six 
 or seven acres a day and sit on his seat: with the 
 horses hauling him over the field. But I can't be- 
 lieve it. People will talk, you know!" 
 
 "But, Jochen, I have seen the machine. It is called 
 a reaper and does all the work they claim for it." 
 
 No, Henry, no, no! What are we coming to! 
 And you saw it at work?" 
 
 "I did, Jochen, and I also saw it cut grass, and it 
 did its work cleaner than a man can do it either with 
 scythe or cradle." 
 
 "But how does it swing the scythe?" 
 
 "It doesn't swing a scythe. It cuts with a blade 
 called the sickle." I drew a rough sketch of the bar 
 and knife and explained the operation as well as I 
 could. 
 
 "Well, well, sonny; all I have to say is, keep your 
 land! Keep your land! It will be play to raise wheat. 
 It is terrible hard work to swing the cradle here in 
 July. We have to pay two dollars and a half a day 
 and then feed the men like stable horses, or we can't 
 get them at all. That is a dollar and a quarter an 
 acre, and the threshing is three dollars an acre more, 
 if we have a full crop. You see, that cuts into the 
 pay. But seven acres a day, and work that can be 
 done by a boy or a woman — you can raise all the 
 wheat you want. Henry, keep your land, you will 
 see!" 
 
 We were going all this time at a steady trot, at 
 the rate of six and a half or seven miles an hour. 
 We had reached the bluff and were several miles 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 8S 
 
 beyond the junction of the road before the sun 
 touched the western horizon. After it went down 
 we crossed the outflow of a spring. Here Jochen 
 stopped to water his horses, but before he did so he 
 rummaged around in the wagon, hauled out a pone 
 of corn bread, broke it in two and gave half to each 
 horse, without removing their bridles. 
 
 '"Tis toning up of their stomachs," said he. "You 
 see we have been driving a pretty stiff pace; but with 
 a mouthful like that to eat, and a drink of water, we 
 will make the spring before the moon leaves us, 
 and they won't know that they have done anything." 
 
 "Will you take a bite, too, or wait until we get to 
 our stopping place." 
 
 I told him that I preferred to wait — and we went 
 on. After we got fairly under way, I said: "Tell me, 
 Jochen, whom you regard as best off among our old 
 acquaintances that live here? Who has done best 
 in the way of accumulating property?" 
 
 "Old man Kulle, Henry. He is rich. He moved 
 to the prairie some ten years ago, and you know all 
 them white-headed boys of his, six of them in a 
 row, they have made him rich. Since they found 
 out how to raise wheat, he has piled it up. He 
 lives some eight or ten miles northeast of Krome — 
 right in the middle of what is now the 'Dutch Set- 
 tlement,' as the Americans call it. You see, on this 
 side the land was all bought up by rich fellows from 
 St. Louis. Old Pheyety was the man. He picked 
 it out for them when I worked for him; and he 
 kept our people away— you know he is a Catholic 
 and our people and them kind don't mix well. The 
 land around Pheyety is better than the land on the 
 other side of Krome, but any of it is good enough 
 to raise wheat." 
 
 "Well, Kulle, you say, is well off. Who is the 
 next?" 
 
 "Krome and Witte. The old fellow, our Conrad, 
 he don't buy so much land; he puts his money on 
 interest; he is smart, he watches the dime well. 
 Then Doerings are well to do; but you know they 
 had a good start when they came; and then, some 
 think that I have done well, too. But you know they 
 always make a mountain out of a mole hill. I have 
 to pay too much for my land. I had to pay twenty- 
 five dollars an acre for the last tract I bought, 
 and that cuts into a man's pocket. No, there are a 
 good many that are well to do; there are the Claus 
 boys and the Wellmeyers, and all that crowd. They 
 are all well to do. You see, they have all the young 
 fellows that come from the old country lying around 
 among them; and they can take their pick when they 
 want their work done. I have to pay more. The 
 town is too close and the fellows can pick up a job 
 almost at any time; if it isn't one thing it is another. 
 It is the wheat that is making our people rich, and 
 if they don't have to cut it by hand they will beat me; 
 they will beat my potato patch — you see, they will 
 raise so much of it." 
 
 "But can't you raise wheat, too? I thought that 
 wheat and potatoes did well as alternate crops." 
 
 "So they do, sonny; but it takes me eight or ten 
 years before I get rid of the dead trees and stumps 
 on my land — before I can be on even terms with 
 them prairie fellows." 
 
 And so we talked on until we reached our camping 
 ground, a little after half-past nine, by Jochen's 
 watch. And I said to myself: "Well, I have learned 
 what I wanted to know, and what I supposed, in a 
 general way, to be the condition of affairs; but as 
 the berries, the big ones, are not exactly in the 
 basket, I better not mention them as yet." 
 
 I looked around for some wood to make a light, 
 as the moon was getting low, but Jochen called out: 
 "Never mind, Henry, I have a lantern with me." 
 This he lighted; then he unhitched his horses and 
 turned them loose, one at a time. After they had 
 rolled and smelled about, he called them up and put 
 their jackets on, as he called it. Then he gave them 
 hay. 
 
 "Now, Henry, what about coffee? You want it 
 hot Or will it do cold? If you can drink it cold we 
 don't need a fire, for I have a jug full with me 
 already made." 
 
 "Cold will do as well for me as hot, for I don't 
 drink it at all, Jochen, especially at night. I like 
 good water better than anything else, and when I 
 go away from home I take a few lemons with me to 
 have a drop or so of the acid to mix with it — it doesn't 
 taste quite so wet. In that way it agrees with me 
 excellently — better in fact than anything else I can 
 drink." 
 
 We then sat down to our lunch, which tasted good, 
 especially the "dead chickens," as Jochen called 
 some fine spring birds which Feeka had put up for 
 our benefit. When we got through eating Jochen re- 
 moved the seat from the wagon, smoothed down 
 the hay and unrolled quilts and blankets enough to 
 keep us warm in a midwinter night. But what 
 pleased me most was a pillow, which little Yetta had 
 brought out from the house of her own accord, when 
 they were loading the wagon "because Uncle could 
 not sleep without a pillow!" He also unrolled some 
 yards of mosquito netting, with which to curtain 
 the front of the wagon, and when he had this in 
 place, so as to suit himself, he said: "There now, 
 sonny, you turn in; for it will be morning before 
 many hours." He then took his blanket under his 
 arm and I did not see or hear anything more of him 
 until he awoke me from as sound a sleep as I ever 
 enjoyed, with "Come, Henry, the horses are hitched 
 and coffee is ready." 
 
 The cup of coffee fully roused me, but I soon be- 
 came drowsy again and did not keep track of the 
 road until we crowned the bluff near Mr. Pheyety's 
 house, and broad day light had awakened forest and 
 prairie with the life of a new day. We now turned 
 off to the left and followed a blind road or trail 
 for about halt an hour or so, when we emerged into 
 the open prairie from the west while the sun entered 
 it from the east. 
 
 "Yonder, in that corner," said Jochen, "where the 
 
66 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 timber of the creek joins the timber of the bluflf, 
 there must be the northwest corner of the land; and 
 we are now driving on the western line of it, ain't 
 we, Henry?" 
 
 "Yes, Jochen, but how do you remember it so 
 well?" 
 
 "You see, sonny, 1 have looked at it a good many 
 times when I worked in them fields back yonder, and 
 I thought that it would suit me. Just look at the 
 slope down towards the creek, enough to make the 
 water run off and not enough to make a plow team 
 feel it. And then it hangs towards the north, the 
 whole tract. That is a great matter, Henry. It 
 don't give the sun such a hold on it as if it sloped 
 towards the south. You always find the grass heavi- 
 est on the northern slopes. Bless me, sonny, but 
 won't that be a sight when we come here next year 
 this time? The corn, higher than our heads, sitting, 
 or standing in the wagon, and all in regular lines, like 
 a regiment of infantry on the parade ground in 
 Preuss-Minden, on a Sunday morning?" 
 
 It is a fine piece of land and looks much more 
 interesting to me to-day, as its owner, than it did 
 the other day, when I looked at it with much of the 
 unconcern of a stranger. The old Stoics knew very- 
 well what it means when we attach ourselves to ex- 
 ternal objects. I see plainly that I will have a part 
 of myself here, no matter where I may be hereafter 
 bodily. 
 
 We had no difficulty in finding the stone that 
 marks the northwest corner, and when I pointed it 
 out to Jochen, he pulled out a hatchet from under 
 the hay, jumped out of the wagon and asked me 
 to hold the horses for a moment. He soon returned 
 from the brush, a short distance off, with an arm 
 full of sticks or poles, some eight feet long. Of 
 these he took one, sharpened the butt end of it, 
 then tied a piece of white rag to the top and planted 
 it firmly into the ground, close to the corner stone. 
 The rest of the poles, but one, he put into the 
 wagon, and then requested me to drive down the line 
 to the half section corner. There he planted another 
 flag pole, so that he could find and mark the quarter. 
 When he had done this he tied the horses and we 
 went down to the creek — taking our guns with us. 
 We followed its meanderings back to the western 
 line of the property and soon found an excellent 
 building site for the western tract; but the ad- 
 joining one, on the east, gave us more trouble, and 
 when we finally decided upon the only practicable 
 one, we were by no means satisfied. The water 
 was too far off to be convenient, or else the house 
 would be too far in the woods and not near enough 
 to the land. We finally determined to leave it to the 
 tenant to choose which one of the two alternatives 
 he might prefer. While the building site did not 
 suit us, the timber was all that could be desired. 
 Jochen declared that there was rail timber enough 
 on this eighty alone, to fence the entire section and 
 a half of land. "And not pick it close, either. And 
 
 I have found three board trees already and marked 
 them, too." 
 
 While returning to the wagon, Jochen had slipped 
 off to one side without me noticing that he was not 
 close at hand, until I heard his blunder-buss down 
 in a strip of prairie that runs into the timber some 
 distance. He soon followed me with half a brood of 
 prairie chicks, seven of which he had potted, on a 
 piece of bare ground, at the mouth and sides of a 
 wash — "Where they were eating breakfast," as he 
 explained. 
 
 "But what could they find to eat on that naked 
 ground?" 
 
 "Hoppers, sonny, hoppers. You see, the sun 
 strikes there early and the grasshopper likes the sun 
 light, and the chicks like the grasshoppers; so if 
 you want to find chicks, you look for such a place 
 and you will find them. When they see or hear you 
 coming, they run into the edge of the grass to hide 
 and stick their heads out to see what you are doing. 
 That's the time to fool them." 
 
 We now went on with our work, which was all 
 done in the course of an hour or so. The first site 
 we found was on the eastern forty, where the creek 
 comes nearest to the north line of the section. Here 
 we found a gentle elevation, covered with a grove 
 of white oak, a few ash and some black walnut. 
 Within a hundred and fifty yards of this, a fine spring 
 of water boils up from under the south bank of the 
 creek. The water has a temperature of sixty-two 
 degrees, Fahrenheit, which indicates the immense 
 depth of the alluvial formation on the plateau, as the 
 summer heat has not affected the temperature of the 
 water of the spring; that is to say, this is the proba- 
 ble conclusion. Of course, it is barely possible that 
 the source of the water may be in some elevated 
 ground a long distance off, but that is not probable 
 in a country as level as this. 
 
 Our team had been unhitched for some time and 
 were enjoying the rich grass. Jochen had staked 
 out one and the other was running around at pleas- 
 ure — but not entirely so; for whenever he was hid 
 from his confined mate by the high grass, or some 
 brush, the latter would nicker and call until he 
 showed himself. Although but companions in slav- 
 ery, still they are attached to each other. 
 
 We now sat down to breakfast and it is unneces- 
 sary to note that we enjoyed the Westphalinger ham, 
 sausage and a splendid goose breast, with keen ap- 
 petites. When this was done, Jochen said: "Now, 
 sonny, we will cross the creek and look round for 
 an hour or so, while the horses are feeding, and 
 then I will drive over to Mr. Krome's to meet the 
 folks, and you can go with me or else stay here." 
 
 I chose the latter. We started with our guns, 
 after Jochen had changed the horses, by tying up 
 the one that had been at large and letting the one 
 loose that had been confined. We found the timber 
 on the north side of the creek fully as good as on 
 the south, with a considerable sprinkle of black 
 walnut, some of them very fine trees. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 87 
 
 "See, Henry, these we must not cut down now; 
 you must make that a special condition in the leases. 
 They may pay for the land all that you have paid 
 for it, some time or another. The fellows are already 
 skinning everything close to town; and they will go 
 farther off when they can't get any more near by. 
 These walnuts will keep; you don't need them now. 
 But you must pay attention to it, or they will split 
 them up into rails. They make the best kind of 
 rails. But you have enough white oak, burr oak and 
 basket oak for that. You can fence ten times the 
 land you have before you need to touch a black 
 walnut or an ash. And then the house logs — just 
 see! Straight as if they had been cast in a mold!" 
 
 So it went on, from one thing to another, until we 
 found a colony of squirrels cutting hickory nuts 
 on a clump of trees near the bank of the creek, and 
 we succeeded in bagging three of them before they 
 got away. They crossed a considerable pool of 
 water, that happened to be spanned by the powerful 
 limbs of a large burr oak, which grew on the 
 southern and was leaning over towards the northern 
 bank. One of its limbs came within a few feet of an 
 elm, on our side of the creek, the limbs of which 
 interlocked with the hickories, where the squirrels 
 were feeding. This was their crossing and I drop- 
 ped two of them when they made the leap from the 
 elm to the burr oak — to the great amusement of 
 Jochen, who has "to catch and hold them before 
 he can hit them," as he puts it. After he had 
 gathered the squirrels we killed, I told him he 
 might go on toward the wagon; that I would loaf 
 here a while, and that he would find me on his 
 return from Krome's at the spring. 
 
 When he had left I took a seat on a dead log, 
 from which I could cover the bridge, and remained 
 perfectly quiet, as is my habit when I am in the 
 forest; for it is only when I have become at one with 
 it, as it were, that I can see the inhabitants act true 
 to their natural character. As soon as the presence 
 of a man is suspected even, they are no longer them- 
 selves. Fear transforms them at once. It is wonder- 
 ful to see the life that springs up from hollow tree, 
 from thicket, from burrow in the ground, from all 
 conceivable and inconceivable nooks and corners as 
 perfect quiet is restored, after the interruption that 
 the arrival of a man upon the scene has caused! 
 
 Sooner than I expected, which indicated that the 
 animals were not hunted much for I had not sat 
 more than eight or ten minutes in my position, a 
 family of youngsters, in an adjoining tree to the 
 big burr oak opposite, became restless First one, 
 then another, and another, and still another came 
 out of the same hole, situated on the side of a dry 
 projecting top of an ash of which, perhaps, twenty 
 or thirty feet had been broken oflf. I had seen the 
 hole and watched it for some time, as I regarded it as 
 probably the home of some female and her litter of 
 young. 
 
 When the noise had died away, caused by our 
 presence, and everything was perfectly still, I saw 
 
 the point of a nose pushed up, just a little beyond the 
 edge of the hole; after ten or fifteen seconds the head 
 appeared, with eyes and ears in sight, wide awake, 
 reconnoitering. This proving satisfactory, out 
 popped the blithe form and took position upon the 
 projecting, upper edge of the hole, which formed a 
 kind of eave — the remains of a broken limb. From 
 this point the reconnoissance was completed, and as 
 soon as the little fellow took a hop or two up the 
 body of the tree, accompanied by the peculiar twitch 
 of his beautiful brush, which indicates, or seems to 
 express, perfect confidence that everything is safe, 
 out jumped his companions, one after another, with- 
 out any apprehension of danger or further investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 But the first is already away, to finish the inter- 
 rupted meal; for while the nut is sweet, the shell is 
 hard, and it takes time to satisfy the appetite. Here 
 they come, with flying leaps, from twig to limb, and 
 from limb to twig, until the jump confronts them 
 from the burr oak to the elm. A moment the leader 
 hesitates, measures the distance, changes position, 
 once, twice and then, while the breeze is waving the 
 wished for limb, with inviting motion, the space is 
 cleared in safety; for the hunter forgets his gun for 
 the moment. He feels the unity of life, its kinship 
 throughout its various forms. He realizes the sacred- 
 ness of the emotion that caused the man of old to say 
 "Kill not." But what are they doing? See, they have 
 gained the topmost limb of the hickory. There on 
 the very verge of the sky for a moment he dangles 
 from the extremest twig, and now, with the delicious 
 nut in his teeth, he retreats along the substantial limb 
 to the place where it joins the tree. Here, with the 
 solid wood of the tree for a support, and cover to 
 his back, the broad limb for his seat, he goes to 
 work. The outer hull is removed in sections, which 
 patter through the leaves below to the ground, and 
 the inner shell is attacked, sawed through with the 
 rah, rah, rah, of his powerful gnawers. But listen! 
 What was that, hitting the ground. Oh, nothing! 
 It was that other fellow, Jake or Jim, up there 
 among the twigs. He missed his nut, and it fell 
 striking a limb, then a log and for an instant rolls 
 among the dry leaves under the brush beneath. He 
 is not an expert collector yet. But his neighbor on 
 the other limb — and the farther one! 'The tree is 
 full of squirrels, and so is the next and the next, and 
 the next. All is motion and eager life, where fifteen 
 minutes ago there was not the sign of a living 
 thing. 
 
 And what are they doing, I asked? "Kill noti" said 
 the wisest in their generation. "Kill not, ye four- 
 footed heathens!" The beautiful tree whose nuts you 
 devour is alive; his self end — the nut, his ideal self, 
 is his mode of self-perpetuation! How dare you 
 puny rascals attack the lord of the forest! For the 
 mighty oak is not secure against you! How dare 
 you divert his purpose of self-perpetuation to your 
 greed? 
 
 And I thought I heard an old fellow, bragging, on 
 
88 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 the other side of the creek answer: "Well, what of 
 it! What is he going to do about it! We, if we 
 are puny, are free!" griving his tail a compound 
 twitch by way of emphasis. "He, big lubberly fellow, 
 stands rooted to the ground, quarreling with the 
 wind, the year around! What is he good for, but to 
 be play ground for us, to give us fun! Is not this 
 our orchard? I can prove that our forefathers 
 planted every one of these trees some centuries ago, 
 for our special benefit! We are free and he is not" — 
 and with a switch of his tail he jumped from his 
 perch to an adjoining tree, some eight feet distant, as 
 if to prove to me his superiority. But the reach of 
 my gun proved sufficient and he brags no more. 
 
 Instantly everything was still. All was attention. 
 The nut was held in position for the rasp; but not a 
 jaw stirred. All was still. So was I. A minute 
 passed, perhaps two and ras, ras, ras, the work 
 started up; for that noise, that quick explosion, was 
 nothing dangerous; only the falling of a tree. "We 
 did not see anything, nor hear any crashing about, 
 as if some one was looking for us; so here goes." 
 
 Still, an old female, wise from experience and 
 timid by nature, has caught the gleam of my eye, 
 considers the matter attentively. Everybody is busy 
 with his rasp, but she can not explain the appear- 
 ance there at the foot of the tree satisfactorily to 
 herself. To doubt, in questions of life and death, 
 is not pleasant. She draws nearer and closer in- 
 spection does not reassure. "We will retire — not to 
 alarm anybody, not to scamper off, but gently, leis- 
 urely." From limb she passes on to limb until she 
 takes the flying leap and there — another explosion, 
 and instead of the burr oak bridge she lands at the 
 foot of the elm and all is over. Silence once more 
 in camp — and the occurrence repeats Itself, with the 
 variation that the explosions grow more and more 
 frequent, until the gunner has an ample supply, piled 
 together in a space of eight or ten square feet, 
 which he, now the only body about, gathers for his 
 bag at quiet leisure. 
 
 To him "Kill not" means "Live not;" for to him 
 the organic is of the organic, life of the living, and 
 spirit alone the abiding. It is not of life only but of 
 death also — the whole process not of one side. How 
 could it be the abiding if it had a neighbor, another? 
 No, death is its implement no less than life, and as 
 much as life, and the one not more sacred than the 
 other, for it is as necessary as the other. 
 
 I crossed the creek at the first opportunity, gather- 
 ed my old braggart and walked up the southern 
 bank, as I had noticed signs of fish in the pools, and 
 wanted to get the light at such an angle that I could 
 see what they were. I was gratified to find in the 
 next pool, which I reached in a few minutes walk, 
 a fine school of black bass. I counted four together, 
 and two by themselves, patrolling the banks, as is 
 their habit at this season of the year, when they are 
 confined in such waters. 
 
 I laid down my gun, threw off my jacket, which 
 was troublesome, with the squirrels that filled the 
 
 pockets, and caught some grasshoppers. These I 
 threw on the water, where the heavy shade of a 
 mulberry darkened the surface, and instantly the 
 pool was in motion. Strike after strike, right and 
 left, until the last grasshopper disappeared. With 
 the promise that I would call again, some time in the 
 near future, I resumed my gun and jacket, the latter 
 of which I found quite a burden before I reached 
 the spring. 
 
 Here I sat down and attended to my game. After 
 cleaning it, I sorted the broilers, that is, last spring's 
 squirrels, from the fryers, the yearlings, and found 
 that I had besides nine old residenters to make a 
 pot of bouillon. This is the finest drink that the 
 forest affords, provided it is not spoiled in the prepar- 
 ation, by the use of too much water. All the condi- 
 ments wanted are a few grains of salt and plenty of 
 squirrels; then if a person wants to add anything 
 more, let him put in a few more squirrels. 
 
 On looking around where I had left the wagon, 
 I found that Jochen had unloaded a cross-cut saw, 
 a keg of nails, a box of spikes, a set of augers and 
 two axes, newly ground. Our lunch basket he had 
 hung up under the dense shade of a black jack, that 
 stood a few feet south of the timber line, in the 
 prairie. Here I also found the coffee pot, a frying 
 pan and an iron boiler. This latter I pressed into 
 service to make me my favorite drink — squirrel bouil- 
 lon. When this was started over an ample fire, 
 I stepped down to the spring to examine the forma- 
 tion of the adjacent bank, and found that at a 
 distance of about a hundred yards up the creek 
 there was a strata of argillaceous limestone in the 
 bottom, partly uncovered by the action of the water. 
 It is lost in the bank and not readily detected, 
 unless a person has a suspicion of its presence. 
 
 I tested a specimen and found that it will do 
 very well for frontier building purposes, such as 
 foundations for cabins, chimneys and the like. I 
 also examined the general economy of the stream 
 and find that it has ample water way, as the drift 
 lodged in the trees and other indications show that 
 it never rises above its permanent banks, which are 
 quite high, reaching an elevation of twenty-seven 
 feet in the perpendicular. This makes fording dif- 
 ficult, but will facilitate bridging. 
 
 I returned to attend to my fire, which I found 
 burned down enough to give me coals for broiling 
 my dinner, and the question arose: "What shall it 
 be? Young prairie chickens or young squirrels?" I 
 chose the latter, especially as I could not find what 
 Jochen had done with the chicks he killed, and I was 
 too tired to go and shoot some myself. 
 
 When I had finished my forest meal, to which 
 Feeka's fresh, aromatic butter added zest, I changed 
 my hunting clothes for a business suit, and stretched 
 out in the shade of a friendly black jack. I slept 
 so soundly that I heard nothing of the approach and 
 arrival of the wagon, and was only aroused by 
 Jochen trying to turn me over — "To see whether I 
 was alive yet," as he expressed it. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 89 
 
 I jumped up, went down to the spring to bathe 
 my head and face, then returned and shook hands 
 with Mr. Pastor, who had come with Jochen in his 
 wagon. They told me that the rest were close at 
 hand. Jochen remarked that he had driven ahead, 
 not knowing but that I might want to see Mr. 
 Pastor for a moment or so, before the crowd came 
 up. 
 
 I told him that I was glad he had done so, as I 
 would like to know how to distribute the different 
 tracts of land between the parties. 
 
 "I have drawn the leases," said I, "but left the 
 names blank, not knowing ', whether the: parties may 
 have preferences as to whom they would like to 
 have for their next door neighbor. At the same 
 time, I don't think it would be well to let them 
 choose as to which tract each should occupy. The 
 land is practically the same in value, one tract with 
 the other, and a free choice can be of no benefit to 
 any one, and may lead to disagreement and bad 
 feeling." 
 
 "That is well thought of," said the minister, "and 
 I know them well enough to give you the names. 
 Commencing with the east tract, you put down 
 Luebke, then Knickmeyer, Spassman and Lerke. 
 That will suit them best. 
 
 I took my pen and ink from my valise, with the 
 leases, and before the first wagon came in sight, the 
 papers were ready for their signature. 
 
 "See, Henry," said Jochen, "there is Moses lead- 
 ing the children of the Lord into the promised land. 
 That is Witte. Don't you see his mules, carrying 
 the 'posaunan' (trumpets), to be blown around this 
 Irish Jericho, on their heads? And there is his 
 brother, Joshua Krome, but he drives horses; and 
 next is the 'Olle Kulle' himself. And he drives two 
 more trumpeters than Witte does — the rest are the 
 children of Israel." 
 
 "Mr. Hanse-Peter you better be careful how you 
 cast rocks, that is, biblical quotations, about you. 
 That requires more skill than a person is likely to 
 suck out of a pair of plow handles." 
 
 "Literally — a plow's tail," said the minister, roaring 
 with laughter. 
 
 In the meantime, as they approached Jochen took 
 charge of affairs and assigned each wagon its place 
 in the encampment. Witte, Krome and Kulle soon 
 left their wagons in charge of the drivers and came 
 up to shake hands with Mr. Pastor and myself — with 
 abundant congratulations upon the occasion which 
 reunited me in interest with life-long neighbors. 
 
 "No, folks, I have heard of Jericho ever since I 
 lived in the prairie, and what fine land it was, but 
 they never told me this I Just look at that," waving 
 his hand toward the south. 
 
 "And then, that we should get it at last, through 
 
 Mr. Pastor, and my old friend B 's son, Henry!" 
 
 said the "Olle Kulle," looking over the gently sloping 
 prairie east, south and west, and scratching his head. 
 
 In the meantime my prospective tenants came up 
 and were introduced by Mr. Pastor. I requested 
 
 them to call their wives, and when they were all 
 together I explained the leases to them in detail. 
 This done, the papers were signed and I gave to 
 each his copy, with the injunction to take good care 
 of it. 
 
 The minister then suggested that Mr. Hanse-Peter 
 take charge of the building operations, as he knew 
 the building sites; and that Mr. Kulle and Witte lay 
 off the land and start to plowing. 
 
 "The building operations are simple," said Jochen. 
 "We start with two cabins first; and when they are 
 up and under cover, we have more time for the other 
 two. Each house will be a single rough cabin, six- 
 teen by eighteen feet inside measure. This will 
 be used hereafter as one-half of the stable, when 
 the permanent house is built. You hear that" — and 
 the whick, whack of a pair of choppers echoed from 
 the bottom. "That is your two men, Mr. Luebke and 
 Knickmeyer, cutting down the board tree. I set 
 them to work while you were fixing the papers. 
 You two go ahead on the logs. You know the 
 length. I will show Fritz and Lerke where they 
 are located. You women folks and children can 
 unload the wagons, put up a lean-to for the night, 
 and get supper ready." 
 
 "See, see! That is the Olle Jochen, his father, 
 himself," said Mr. Kulle. 
 
 "No, it is the Olle Fraek, Henry's father!" said 
 Witte. "There is where Hanse-Peter learned what 
 he knows." 
 
 With that they too started off, each with a hand- 
 ful of straight sticks with white flags attached. 
 Kulle before he started called to his two sons, who 
 had each hitched a pair of powerful mules to a 
 prairie breaker: "When I get to the far corner of 
 the forty and plant the flag you come to me. 
 Conrad, I think you better go with me to the next 
 eighty; we must see whether it will do to skin, or 
 whether it is too dry. This here will do first rate, 
 but on account of the slope it may be better if we 
 take the upper eighties first, as this will not dry 
 out so quick." 
 
 "Yes, that is right", said Witte, "but tell me; you 
 do not expect to break prairie with two mules?" 
 
 "With two like them I do, Conrad! But you see I 
 have skinners. We skin along about two inches 
 and a half deep. The plow turns this over flat and 
 every grass root is exposed to the sun. In a week 
 of good baking weather the grass is gone, root and 
 all, beyond the help of rain, and in six weeks, if the 
 weather is anyway right, the sod is ready for 
 further work." 
 
 "Ha, ha! But I brought my big 'stump sucker,' 
 as the boys call them. You see, I break wood land. 
 You prairie fellows have different plows," said Witte. 
 
 "Yes, I know; but I have an extra one in the 
 wagon. We are a good distance from a blacksmith's 
 shop, and so I brought an extra one — if anything 
 should break. You can use that until the balance 
 come from the settlement," replied Kulle. 
 
 They gave the necessary orders to their men and 
 
go 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 started for the far corner of the forty. As soon as 
 the flag appeared above the grass, Mr. Kulle's teams 
 started and drew a couple of furrows up the west 
 line of the northeast forty, as straight as if they 
 had been laid down with a mathematical instrument. 
 
 "God be praised!" ejaculated the minister. "A 
 start has been made, and good old Plat Deutsche, old 
 Saxon, perseverance will bring the end — with His 
 blessing." 
 
 "Amen, your reverence," said I. "And without 
 both together, nothing of real value to man ever 
 was or ever will be achieved in this world." 
 
 He took me by the hand, looked at me with the 
 eye of a true, honest, trusting soul, and said, his 
 voice trembling: 
 
 "And you believe that, Mr. B ?" 
 
 "I do," was my answer. 
 
 In the meantime the axes were playing in every 
 direction and a mighty crash, that caused the earth 
 to tremble under our feet, announced that the board 
 tree had been felled. The women were busy fixing 
 up a lean-to — that is, they had planted three sub- 
 stantial forks in the ground, in a straight line from 
 east to west, in front of the timber. And they had 
 placed two straight poles of considerable size in the 
 forks, one from each corner to the middle fork. 
 Against these they had placed a series of smaller 
 poles, leaning them against the scaffolding from the 
 north. Over this frame they were drawing the 
 wagon sheets, making an effectual shelter against 
 any moderate rain, as well as against the dews of 
 the night. 
 
 But one of the women was out a short distance 
 in the prairie with a scythe, cutting down the heavy 
 grass — a swath as wide as a man. 
 
 "I wonder what she can be up to," said I to the 
 minister. 
 
 "That is Mrs. Luebke, cutting grass for bedding; 
 she knows how to manage, I warrant you. You see 
 that flaxhead yonder, carrying water to the chop- 
 pers? That is her oldest son, and the little one with 
 him, who wants to get the bucket, that is her second. 
 They have helpers already." 
 
 The boys were hardly out of sight when a robust 
 girl, of perhaps eleven or twelve years of age, came 
 by with a bucket on her head. 
 
 "You see her? That is Knickmeyer's eldest. She 
 is taking water up to Mr. Kulle. They think he is 
 not going to be back here, but will break the upper 
 eighties first." 
 
 "Yes, Mr .B , it is an industrious, God-fearing 
 
 people. My heart bleeds when I think of the many 
 thousands in the old country who bend their knees 
 every night to beseech their Heavenly Father to give 
 them the opportunity to work, that they may earn 
 bread for themselves and their little ones. And here, 
 look around you and see! We take this drop out of 
 the ceaseless waves of God's blessings and hand it 
 to a few of his little ones, while the shoreless ocean 
 of his mercies goes to waste, and millions of hh 
 
 creatures are perishing for the want of bread — for 
 the want of the opportunity to earn their bread with 
 honest toil." 
 
 "It is a subject, your reverence, that I do not like 
 to reflect upon. Here it is not so bad; but you go 
 south and west. See the human beings, the besotted 
 bestiality, the mere talking animalism called man, 
 reeling in abundance! I mean the millions of blacks, 
 idle, thieving, worthless, talking animals, of the 
 south; and the other worthless millions that roam 
 the forests and prairies of the west, their sweet will, 
 their caprice, their only guide — all cared for with 
 lavish abundance. Then, when I remember what I 
 have seen in Europe and what you have just de- 
 scribed, I feel impatient. Millions of God-fearing, 
 devout, pious, God-worshiping men and women, 
 starving for want of opportunities to earn their 
 bread by honest toil; and millions of Godless bar- 
 barians rolling in the overflowing abundance of 
 nature! 'Can there be a just God who governs and 
 directs human events?' — wells up from the heart. I 
 have to get above my feelings, or I could curse my 
 maker and die! 
 
 "But I know the present abundance of these so 
 unworthy is not their own. I know that the earth 
 belongs to the honest, the industrious, the economic, 
 and that that people, and that people alone, which 
 practices these virtues will inherit and possess the 
 earth. And what I see here to-day is a proof, small 
 it is true, when viewed in a quantitative sense, but 
 a proof nevertheless, a fulfillment of what shall be!" 
 
 "My son, you have warmed my heart," said the 
 minister. "But do you not think that a man with 
 your knowledge of the country and its ways; and 
 with this faith in your heart, you could do much to 
 assist to bring about what you so clearly see? You 
 know, or you can find out the people who own these 
 idle lands. You can talk to them. Our people can 
 only speak to their agents. Some of these don't like 
 our people, because they don't know them. Others 
 seek dishonest gains — cheating both their employers, 
 the sellers and the purchasers. Our people don't 
 like that; they get mad and will have nothing to do 
 with them. When I try to explain how we could use 
 our present blessings to help our brethren before it 
 is too late, my people use this as an excuse and do 
 not help me. Now, you can go to the owners of 
 these lands themselves; you know their ways and 
 they will respect you, they must respect you." 
 
 "But, do you think, Mr. Fromme, we could get 
 tenants for those wild lands up there the same as 
 we have done for this?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, certainly, I know we can. I know over 
 forty families. We have now provided for eight — 
 they are scattered through the parishes I preach in 
 myself, without calling on others from a greater dis- 
 tance. I can get forty families at least in a very 
 short time. Of course, you know if we could draw 
 from Germany there would be no end." 
 
 "But you could not give them a start like you do 
 to these." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 91 
 
 "No, for it is late in the season. But we could 
 start them all now, so that they would be in excellent 
 shape for effective work next year. These that are 
 here will make a full crop next season. Luebke has 
 agreed to give two-thirds of the crop of eighty acres 
 to Mr. KuUe, and the rest have made similar arrange- 
 ments with others in the settlement. They will 
 have every foot under cultivation by next March; 
 no danger of that!" 
 
 "But we could not fit out more than ten or fifteen 
 in a similar way this fall. Our people, with lands 
 that are comparatively old, they raise wheat, and are 
 eager for new land to plant in corn. If they can not 
 buy they will rent; if they can not rent they will 
 cultivate on shares. They are all on their own feet; 
 they don't concern me. But it is these littles ones 
 that can not help themselves, and every year the 
 land in the market becomes less and less, and the 
 chances for a home more and more remote. They 
 have worked hard during the four, five, six, or eight 
 years that they have been here. They have saved 
 what they earned, but they had helpless ones in the 
 old country; and so they have lost the golden op- 
 portunity to get good land when it was to be had 
 for the asking." 
 
 "I see the situation. But tell me, how far is it to 
 M , the county seat of this county?" 
 
 "It is twenty miles from Mr. Krome's, by the sec- 
 tion lines; by the road, it is a little farther, but not 
 much." 
 
 "I have to go there to-morrow and when I come 
 back we will talk about this matter further. In the 
 meantime we better keep it to ourselves. I want 
 to see the records of this land, because I propose to 
 have clean papers, and as I can attend to it myself, 
 there is no reason why I should not have absolute 
 certainty." 
 
 We were now interrupted by one of the ladies — I 
 think they deserve to be called so — bringing us a cup 
 of coffee, with a very rich sandwich of Westphalinger 
 sausage. I drank the coffee mechanically, out of 
 courtesy, which he noticed and smiling remarked: 
 
 "You're not a friend of stimulants of any kind, 
 Mr. B ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, but they don't agree with me. I have, 
 however, a favorite drink and I expect there is some 
 of it nearly prepared." 
 
 I went to the fire, but found that the old squirrels 
 were not as yet done, and therefore had not as yet 
 given up all the juices which they contained. I ex- 
 plained to him what I was preparing and he seemed 
 quite amused. He then asked me: 
 
 "My son, how do you expect to go to M to- 
 morrow? Would it not be a little trying for Mr. 
 Hanse-Peter's team to make that trip to-morrow 
 and next day to go home to St. Louis?" 
 
 "I had calculated to get a saddle horse from Mr. 
 Krome," I answered. 
 
 "No, Mr. B , that will be too hard on you. 
 
 You are not accustomed to riding on horse back. 
 You shall drive my horse. I have a very easy riding. 
 
 substantial buggy and a good gentle horse. He is at 
 Mr. Krome's and he will make the trip without any 
 injury to him. It will be easier on you and I am 
 interested for you to go there. It will show these 
 people, the officials, that we have men among us who 
 can protect our people against wrong; and that is 
 always of value to persons situated as we are." 
 
 We then started down through the timber to 
 where the men were at work— that is, to those 
 nearest to us, for I soon found that the reverend 
 gentleman was no great walker. We managed, how- 
 ever, to get down as far as where they had cut the 
 board tree and found that they were taking off the 
 second cut. They had not chopped the tree down, 
 but only partly so, on one side. The main work had 
 been done with the cross-cut saw. They explained 
 that by this means they saved one cut and, they 
 thought, probably the cutting down of another tree, 
 as this one was likely to make the boards wanted. 
 They were making their boards three feet six inches 
 long and figured that it would take from nine hun- 
 dred to a thousand boards to cover each house. 
 
 In returning we found the logs of one side of 
 Mr. Luebke's house dragged up and the men were 
 busy with the second. In reply to my question, he 
 thought that he would get the logs up for the two 
 sides before night. Mr. Hanse-Peter had distributed 
 his men so that he had four axes going, cutting house 
 logs, two for each house, and a man and team with 
 each set to drag up the logs as soon as cut. Of the 
 three sets of plowmen we saw nothing until I got 
 up in Hanse-Peter's wagon. Then I saw them at 
 work with their seven teams, two of Witte's, two of 
 Krome's and three of Mr. Kulle's, upon the extreme 
 southern tier of the forties. This promised well, for 
 they had obviously found moisture enough for their 
 purpose, and if they have enough up there, on the 
 highest part of the ground, there is no danger of 
 their work being interrupted on the lower part of the 
 slope for the want of it, said I to myself. The day 
 was now drawing to a close; the air began to moisten 
 the grass and we returned to camp. We found the 
 sleeping accommodations had been arranged under 
 the lean-to, and the evening table was set in the 
 open air, with eighteen plates, and supper was ready 
 to be dished up. Still the axes kept going in the 
 timber and not a sign was visible of the teams in 
 the prairie. Finally the lanterns were lighted; then 
 the woods became silent and soon all hands gathered 
 in. After the horses and mules were attended to 
 and the men had washed, we sat down to the eve- 
 ning meal. Mr. Pastor asked God's blessing upon 
 this, the first meal eaten in the new settlement. 
 
 After the first edge of the appetite had been taken 
 off, the different parties commenced relating what 
 they had seen and what they thought of the land 
 and its situation. Mr. Kulle got to chaffing with Mr. 
 Luebke to let him have another forty to break on the 
 same terms as he had the eighty he was at work 
 upon. Krome proposed to Lerke to take twenty 
 acres more, so that he would have sixty. Mr. Spass- 
 
92 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 man said that his was all promised, but that if the 
 parties did not show up by Monday he was ready 
 for another bargain. Knickmeyer had not an acre 
 more to spare. After supper I asked Conrad Witte 
 what he thought of the land. 
 
 "It can't be better, Henry. If it did cost you a 
 whole lot of money, it is worth every cent of it. 
 Jochen told me that it cost you thirteen thousand 
 dollars. That is a good deal of money; but if a man 
 can meet the first outlay, it is not too much. 
 
 "I promised Knickmeyer to help him break a week 
 or ten days; and they told me last night at Krome's 
 that they didn't need us ridge fellows to come down 
 here to help them break prairie. They talked as if 
 in fun, but I knew some of them meant it, just the 
 same. They wanted to get to break all of it for a 
 part of the crop. They want all their land for 
 wheat and when it comes to corn, if they will work 
 this land right, I mean work it as well as they work 
 their own, and it has the same season — no, it don't 
 need as much rain — this land will produce two 
 bushels where they can raise one. Kulle told me 
 so and he knows." 
 
 After this I had a short talk with Jochen about my 
 trip to-morrow, and then he hitched up and drove 
 Mr. Pastor and myself over to Krome's, where we 
 staid all night. 
 
 I found myself more fatigued on retiring than I 
 supposed and slept very soundly. Indeed, breakfast 
 was waiting when I arose in the morning and Jochen 
 was very impatient to see me off. I told him that 
 I had forgotten my squirrel bouillon and to take 
 care of it for me when he got down to camp. Finally, 
 he handed me the reins and with a great many 
 instructions how to manage them, he bade me good 
 morning. I had a good vehicle and the drive was 
 a pleasant one. So many new things had crowded 
 in upon me in the last few days, that it was a luxury 
 to be by myself, so that I could arrange them in 
 their logical relations. This once fairly done, and 
 everything becomes easy to me. 
 
 My trip seemed exceedingly short. Still it was 
 
 10 o'clock and past before I reached M . I 
 
 put up at a country hotel, called "A Tavern" and 
 had my horse attended to in my presence. After 
 that I went to the clerk's ofifice. I introduced my- 
 self to an exceedingly pleasant gentleman, a Mr. 
 
 M , who is clerk of the county. When I called 
 
 for the records I found the book which I wanted 
 upon his desk and the deed which I had sent by 
 
 mail in process of being transcribed. Mr. M — ■ 
 
 had not caught my name — and told me that he had 
 received the first deed relating to the tract of land 
 
 owned by Mr. L , of St. Louis, in Co., 
 
 only a few days ago; that no other transfers were 
 recorded in his office, and that the original patents 
 had not as yet been sent there for record; that this, 
 however, was nothing unusual, as the land office in 
 Washington was ordinarily about ten years behind 
 with its business. He showed me, by the actual 
 register of the office, that what he said was true. 
 
 and also produced the tax books, which showed that 
 the taxes had been paid regularly. 
 
 "There is nothing here but this deed and that I 
 received only Thursday morning," he said. 
 
 "Yes, I know that, Mr. M , for I sent it my- 
 self." 
 
 He then excused himself for not having recognized 
 the name and made himself exceedingly agreeable. 
 After I was through in the office he accompanied 
 me to the hotel, where he lives, and proposed that we 
 step to the bar and take something to drink. He 
 staid with me until I was ready to start and gave 
 me a good deal of information in regard to the 
 local affairs of the county; also about a great ques- 
 tion, that seems to occupy everybody's attention— 
 of granting some wild lands to a corporation as an 
 inducement to build a railroad. 
 
 On my return trip I took it leisurely and did not 
 arrive at Mr. Krome's until nearly sun-down. Mr. 
 Fromme, the minister, met me at the gate and re- 
 marked: 
 
 "My son, you have not abused my pet; he enters 
 no complaint against you" — and explained that if a 
 member of his family drove the animal and urged 
 him beyond what was agreeable, or did not attend 
 to his wants properly, he was sure to nicker on 
 seeing his master. I answered that it was my habit 
 to treat everything that serves me with considera- 
 tion, even to a simple tool of steel or wood. 
 
 "For experience has taught me that without such 
 care I cannot have the service that I want." 
 
 "A very simple truth, and yet how few will think 
 enough to realize its value," he remarked. 
 
 He then wanted to know how I found everything; 
 and I gave him a brief account of what I saw, and 
 also the legal meaning of it. I then added that I 
 thought there was some likelihood that by a week 
 from to-morrow I might have information that would 
 interest him in regard to extending our operations; 
 but begged him not to mention anything, as all 
 was as yet uncertain. 
 
 "Still, it may be well to hold yourself ready to 
 act promptly in case I succeed in getting definite 
 control of some more land." 
 
 He thanked me for my interest, gave me his 
 address, where I could reach him at any time, and 
 bade me good night, as he had to go home and 
 prepare himself for to-morrow. When he turned to 
 go he stopped and said: 
 
 "Mr. B , you must come to church to-mor- 
 row morning, even if you can not stay until the 
 close of the service. I will see that you get down 
 to the camp by ii o'clock." 
 
 I thanked him and promised to come as he re- 
 quested. I then enjoyed an hour's conversation with 
 Mrs. Krome, one of my old sweethearts, although 
 some five or six years older than myself, before 
 the people came home from work. She told me 
 about our old acquaintances, who was married to 
 whom, who staid in the old country and who came 
 to this, and where they were located; how many 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 93 
 
 children they had, and how many horses they 
 worked — a standard by which wealth is measured 
 among these people; also who had died and whether 
 they made a good end and were blessed forever, or 
 whether Mr. Pastor entertained doubts upon that 
 point, to the great regret of the surviving relatives. 
 
 "But, of course, Henry," she remarked, "if people 
 misbehave they must take what comes hereafter. 
 They are not all as innocent and simple as we were 
 when I kissed you behind the big pear tree in our 
 orchard — where I caught you stealing plums, and 
 you said you didn't care if I did it again. Dear 
 me, how time flies! You were a chunk of a boy 
 then — tall enough for your age. You looked like a 
 young man and we girls all liked you. How you 
 have grown and become a man; and such a man! 
 Our Mr. Pastor thinks more of you than of all the 
 rest!" 
 
 And so it went, between going and coming, as 
 her household duties called. When her eldest 
 daughter came home from school, and put some 
 restraint upon the conversation, or rather the re- 
 hearsal, I was as well-informed about the happenings 
 among our former acquaintances as if I had given a 
 full hour every morning to the reading of a first- 
 class paper especially devoted to the dishing up of 
 all the evanescent nothings of the day, fresh, every 
 morning for breakfast. After supper Mrs. Krome, 
 I and some of the smaller children — the two eldest 
 were attending to the household work — seated our- 
 selves upon the porch to enjoy the pleasant air and 
 await the coming of Mr. Krome from camp. He 
 soon arrived and Mr. Kulle with him, who after the 
 most persistent urging on the part of Mrs. Krome, 
 consented to stay all night. After seating himself 
 he related what they had done and how the work 
 progressed. In answer to Mrs. Krome, he said: 
 
 "Yes, yes; Hinnerick has a fine piece of land. 
 There isn't five acres of waste on the tract and I 
 tell you that is a mighty big thing. You see, when 
 all the land you work, every furrow and part of a 
 furrow which you plow brings its crop, the one 
 with and like the other, it helps. You don't lose 
 no time going over waste places. Every spot pulls 
 with the other. I have plowed all day and I haven't 
 seen a foot yet that isn't as good as the other. And 
 I haven't seen any on what the boys and Mr. Witte 
 have broken. It plows like cutting a piece of side 
 meat; it turns up greasy like. He paid a good deal 
 of money for it, but when I consider what it is, he 
 didn't make a mistake. If I had known that he had 
 it, our Mr. Pastor wouldn't have had the chance to 
 poke his nose into our business." 
 
 "Oh yes, you men folks have always something 
 to find fault with about our Mr. Pastor. Every one 
 of you wants the whole prairie himself — all out of 
 doors," said Mrs. Krome. 
 
 "Yes, yes, girl. It Is his business to look out for a 
 place for us up yonder, in the hereafter; let him at- 
 tend to that. But here you see — 
 
 "What here? What here? What there, Mr. Kulle? 
 
 Don't you know, that if people have no place here 
 they can't have any hereafter? If people have no 
 homes here, have no children here, if they ain't born 
 here, there will be nobody there! It will be worse 
 than this prairie was when we moved here; there 
 wouldn't even be the wolves to howl!" 
 
 This was such a palpable hit that I could not help 
 laughing and Kulle and Krome joined in with right 
 good will. 
 
 "Well, well! Minken (Mrs. Krome), don't get 
 angry," said the OUe Kulle. "I didn't mean it that 
 way. But as to leaving that country without people, 
 I think you and Christian here have done your share 
 to prevent that." 
 
 "So have other people as well as we, and I am 
 glad of it; glad that we were able; and if we have 
 more, we have something to eat for them, as well 
 as our neighbors," said Mrs. Krome. 
 
 "There, you're at it again," said Krome. "You two 
 can never meet but you must quarrel, and would die 
 if you didn't see each other every week of your lives. 
 Let us go to bed. I am tired, and Henry there, I 
 expect, will need no rocking either to-night." 
 
 With this we broke up and retired to our rooms, 
 but as Kulle and myself occupied the same one, it 
 was some time before I got to sleep, as I had an 
 excellent opportunity to inform myself about the 
 economic situation of the settlement, and I availed 
 myself of it to the fullest extent. 
 
 August 25, 1856. 
 
 When I awoke next morning I found Mr. Kulle's 
 bed and the room empty and the sun high above the 
 prairie. I dressed somewhat in a hurry, and to my 
 surprise found washstand, bowl and water pitcher, 
 with comb, brush, mirror and towels in the room — a 
 thing not very common in the country. But then I 
 had always regarded Minken as above the ordinary 
 run of girls; whether that was because she happened 
 to be the first woman that ever kissed me, or not, 
 I am not prepared to say. I was soon dressed and 
 as I stepped out of the room, Mrs. Krome met me 
 with a bright "good morning! I am glad you en- 
 joyed your night's rest. Step in and take a bite to 
 eat. The rest have eaten breakfast and are prepar- 
 ing to go to church. You will stay with me an hour 
 or two before you go to camp. The boy will take 
 you down and you will have plenty time to get there 
 before 11 o'clock." 
 
 I told her my arrangement with the minister and 
 that he seemed to lay too much stress upon me seeing 
 the people before I left for me to disappoint him. 
 
 "Although I should like to slay, and have a long, 
 long talk with you, Minken, I think we will have to 
 put it off to some other time." 
 
 Then putting on a very serious face, I added: 
 
 "You know I owe you that kiss yet, and if I 
 thought Christian wouldn't mind it, I would pay it 
 back to you now, to get rid of that debt, which I 
 never have and never can forget. I have tried to 
 quiet my conscience with the thought that if honest 
 repentence deserves forgiveness, I'm entitled to and 
 
94 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 have received full pardon long ago; but still, the sin 
 of owing a kiss to a lovely woman for years — how 
 many is It, Minken, and what is the rate of interest?" 
 
 "I tell you what you do, Henry. You just pay that 
 debt to Christian, he keeps all of my small change 
 of that kind, and I will give you a receipt in full." 
 
 We bantered each other — I her, about catching a 
 thief to kiss him, and she me, with the thief that was 
 so greedy as to take that with the other plums and 
 never say thank you in return — until the folks called 
 out "All ready for church!" 
 
 The "Meeting House," as the country people call 
 a church, stands a little east of north and is a stiff 
 hour's drive from Krome's when the roads are good. 
 We found a large part of the congregation already 
 there when we arrived. The majority of them I 
 knew personally and all of them knew my parents in 
 the old country. I spent an hour with them in 
 conversation and shared the mutual pleasure of a 
 reunion that promised to be permanent. At last the 
 minister came to say "good-bye," explaining to the 
 people that I had to be at camp by li o'clock and 
 then would have to drive until late in the night in 
 order to reach the city, where my business demanded 
 my presence in the morning. So I bade "good-bye," 
 with the assurance that I would attend the very 
 next "preaching," and requesting those present to 
 remember me to those absent, I jumped into the 
 minister's buggy and started for camp. 
 
 I might have cut off a considerable distance by 
 trusting to directions only, but deemed it safest to 
 drive back to Mr. Krome's, or nearly so, and take 
 the trail, which was already as plain as a road, from 
 there to my destination. I arrived fifteen minutes 
 ahead of time and found Jochen busy hitching up 
 his team. Two of the cabins were up and the men 
 were putting on the roofs. 
 
 "You see we have not been idle here, Henry, and 
 everything is fairly on the way. To-morrow morning 
 Luebke and the rest will start four more plows and 
 the other men will put up the cabins. The women 
 and children will be under roof to-night, and that is 
 a good deal, because the ground is dry and they 
 have a good floor, without planks or puncheons." 
 
 When the horses were hitched up Mrs. Luebke in- 
 sisted earnestly that we eat a lunch, with which she 
 served me a bowl of my squirrel bouillon. It was ex- 
 cellent, so Jochen thought — she had taken good care 
 of it. After eating, the men folks came up and said 
 "good-bye," and with an earnest "God bless you, Mr. 
 B ," from Mrs. Knickmeyer, we started. 
 
 I asked Jochen how it was that Mr. Pastor per- 
 mitted them to work on a Sunday, as ordinarily I 
 had observed that ministers were very jealous about 
 that 
 
 "Nay, Henry, you see he isn't that way. When I 
 asked him about it the other day, he said: 
 
 " 'Mr. Hanse-Peter, I work on Sunday. I do God's 
 work, it is true; but there is a good deal of God's 
 work outside of the pulpit. Some of it is on the 
 prairie. God will not withdraw his blessings from 
 
 you because you work on Sunday to shelter these 
 brave mothers and their little ones. We do not know 
 when the storm may come, bringing sickness and suf- 
 fering to the shelterless, the homeless; but we do 
 know that when they have a roof over their heads, 
 they are safe from the storm. You go ahead, in God's 
 name, and I will ask our indulgent Father to pardon 
 our ;poverty, that compels us to break the holy 
 Sabbath in His name. 
 
 "You see, that is the way he talks," added Jochen. 
 
 As we were driving along the front of the timber 
 on the bluff, I asked him whether we would have 
 time enough for me to spend a few minutes to look 
 at something that had occurred to me as worth 
 knowing — when we got to the edge of the bluff. 
 He said: 
 
 "Yes, but it must not be too long. You see, we 
 have to go by Mr. Pheyety's. It would never do to 
 pass him. He is our next neighbor if he is three 
 miles off. And then I ought not to pass him either. 
 He is a good man, if he is Irish. I can say that to 
 you; but you know, the people in the settlement, 
 they hate him, because they think he kept them 
 from getting this land. They call it Jericho among 
 themselves because Mr. Pheyety is a Philistine, in 
 their estimation. Now, I don't know that he was 
 very anxious to have them crowd in here. It stands 
 to reason that he should like all this fine pasture 
 and hay ground for his own use. When a man has 
 lived a long time alone in the country that way, he 
 sorta hates to see a fence unless it is his own. I 
 don't blame him. But that he played any tricks to 
 keep them out, that I don't believe. I know him; 
 he is not that kind of a man." 
 
 When we reached Mr. Pheyety's we found that 
 everybody had gone to church except the eldest boy; 
 and after expressing our regrets that we did not 
 find the old people at home, and leaving our compli- 
 ments for them, we continued our journey. 
 
 "Now sonny, you have time to loaf around a little 
 when we get to the jumping off place," said Jochen, 
 as we drove on; and of this I availed myself when 
 we reached the descent from the bluff. 
 
 The question that I wanted to investigate was 
 whether the bluff carries any "wind land," as I call it, 
 for want of a better name. It is a soil peculiar to 
 the permanent banks of heavy silt-bearing streams, 
 such as the Missouri and the Mississippi, for some 
 distance below the confluence of the two rivers. 
 There is no soil that can compare with it in fertility 
 and friendliness, as I may call it, to the husband- 
 man. It can be worked in any weather, wet or dry; 
 never clods, holds moisture better than clay and 
 never wears out. The land is known in Missouri as 
 hemp land, which indicates that it is highly appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 But while recognized as to its value by the set- 
 tlers up the Missouri, the origin of it was a puzzle 
 to me. It is not river or lake bottom. Its location 
 and character both forbid that conclusion. It was 
 a puzzle from the first time I saw it, above a village 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 95 
 
 on the Missouri, called St. Charles, until I went 
 ashore from a steamer, at a landing called St. Joe, 
 on the same river. The boat tied up on account of 
 a high northwest wind. I stepped into a store to 
 transact some business and found every counter, desk 
 and shelf covered with dust, so that it took the 
 proprietor some time to clean it off before he could 
 show me the goods I asked for. During this opera- 
 tion he explained, by way of excusing the delay, 
 that whenever they had a northwest wind, of any 
 strength, they suffered from this annoyance. 
 
 "It picks up," said he, "the sand bank opposite our 
 place, on the other side of the river, and while it 
 drop^ the sand back again into the water, it brings 
 the dust, all the fine stuff — this nuisance — to plague 
 us." This casual remark struck me. I went aboard 
 the steamer and asked the captain how long we 
 would stay at the landing. "As long as the wind 
 blows the way it does now," was the answer. I 
 then went ashore and started up the bluff to track 
 up the dust, that covered every leaf, blade of grass, 
 limb and twig in sight. I followed it inland some 
 three miles, as I judged, when it became perceptibly 
 lighter. All this distance I was walking upon the 
 finest hemp land, as it is called, which was being 
 made by the wind right before my eyes. I could 
 see why it does not wear out, for I saw it renewed; 
 and every high wind from the same direction con- 
 tinues the operation. 
 
 I then examined the sand bank below the land- 
 ing and in sight of the steamer. Here and there I 
 found low places, where pools of water were stand- 
 ing. On examining these I saw how the water had 
 precipitated the fine particles of silt in the form of 
 an unctuous slime at the bottom of each pool. In 
 other places the water had dried up, or sunk into 
 the sand with the falling stream, and left the de- 
 pressions, where it had stood, covered with a coat- 
 ing in some places over an inch thick made up of 
 this impalpable silt. In still other places, this mud 
 had dried and cracked into many sided pieces, with 
 the edges turned up, so that they resembled irregu- 
 lar sided saucers. I took up one, dipped up some 
 water from the river and drank out of it. 
 
 Here then I had the material out of which these 
 wind lands are made. The mud becomes redis- 
 tributed through the sand, and at seasons of low 
 water and high winds, usually in autumn, the mix- 
 ture is swept up by the currents of air, twirled 
 aloft, the heavy particles, with the sand, are drop- 
 ped into or near the river, while the fine impalpable 
 powder, the pulverized vegetable and animal, the 
 organic remains are carried inland for miles to form 
 the richest soil that human labor can be bestowed 
 upon. 
 
 It was in search of this that I examined the bluff; 
 but while I found abundant indications of an ancient 
 formation of the kind in question, there were no 
 signs of any recent deposit. The river has moved 
 its channel and sand banks too far west, where in 
 addition the banks are protected from the full effects 
 
 of these northwest winds by the western bluff shore. 
 When I returned to the wagon, I asked Jochen 
 whether there was any road from Mr. Pheyety's to 
 the river. 
 
 "Not that I know of, Henry," he answered, "but 
 I don't see why there should not be. You can go 
 almost in a straight line. You only have to go 
 around the head of one slough, if I remember. 
 Mike Pheyety and me used to go hunting in the 
 bottom and we went over to the river a couple of 
 times. But what made you think of that, sonny?" 
 
 "I don't know, Jochen, but what our people over 
 yonder may have something to sell some of these 
 days; and if they should have, I think it would be 
 cheaper to haul it eight, ten or twelves miles to 
 the river and send it to market by steamer, than 
 to haul it some sixty or seventy miles by wagon." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, yes! That is so! Narren tant! 
 What's the use of talking! You think of every- 
 thing; that does it. Just last night the boys were 
 talking in camp about Kulle and Krome and the rest 
 having a better road to haul their wheat; never 
 looking but In one direction. Narren tant — they 
 will have to haul all the way from twenty to twenty- 
 five miles farther than we. Ha! I never thought of 
 that; never once thought of it! And I have been 
 over the ground, too; stood right there on the river 
 bank and saw them puffers that breathe through 
 their horns go by, right up to town, as if it was 
 fun!" 
 
 It kept him busy making plans and drawing con- 
 clusions of consequences until we reached our old 
 camp ground, the big spring; although we were not 
 driving at the gait at which we came out, on ac- 
 count of the heat of the sun. Here we rested for a 
 couple of hours in the shade of the big burr oak. 
 What a pity that some thoughtless person should 
 have built a fire against the magnificent tree and 
 shortened its life and usefulness at least a hundred 
 years I 
 
 "I tell you one thing, Henry; it was a good thing 
 for Luebke and the rest that neither Witte nor 
 myself knew more about that land than we did 
 when we fixed the price on the leases! They have 
 a mighty good bargain. It is worth a dollar an 
 acre rent a year if it is worth a cent; I mean for the 
 fourth and fifth years. They ought to have paid 
 that. But you see, I only saw it when I didn't know 
 any more about land than one of Kulle's trumpeters; 
 and Conrad, he never saw it at all. He told me last 
 night that we hadn't done you right, and the OUe 
 Kulle thought so, too." 
 
 "But it is all right, Jochen. No one can do better 
 than he knows, and you did what you thought was 
 right — the best can do no more. It is better that 
 they should have the long end of the bargain than 
 if I had it. They have children; I have none. And 
 on general principles, Jochen, it is my opinion that 
 a bargain just to both parties is better than a one- 
 sided one, always — but especially when it takes 
 years in the performance." 
 
96 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "But right is right," he insisted. "I told them 
 what it cost you and they thought it mighty big 
 money, but neither of them would sell it for that if 
 they owned it. The 'Olle Kulle' would pay the 
 money for it to-morrow if he could get it. But let 
 that be as it may, I think you have your own 
 again." 
 
 "What I have not now I expect to get before I 
 get through with these gentlemen, Jochen. Never 
 you fear! It is a strange rope that doesn't have two 
 ends to it; and when you are pulling on one you 
 don't always know who may have hold of the other. 
 They will perhaps find out that I am not swindled 
 quite so badly as they supposed. At any rate, we will 
 not ask any sympathy from them. We will treat 
 them according to the 'Golden Rule' — that is, we 
 will do by them as they do by us. Then if they do 
 by us as they wish to be done by, and we do by 
 them as they do by us, both sides are governed 
 by the 'Golden Rule,' and everything is lovely. 
 There is nobody to complain. I don't mean that I 
 will swindle them, as they swindled me, by paying 
 them thirty cents when I owe them a dollar. No, 
 that would be lowering myself to their level; but in 
 dealing with them I propose to look out for myself, 
 as they do for themselves. I will pay what I agreed 
 to pay and they may swindle; and let him who has 
 grain in his craw longest crow loudest. I am not 
 through collecting my money from them yet, Jochen; 
 you will see that before we get a month older. They 
 have started me. They have torn me from my 
 chosen occupation — the contemplation of the nature 
 of things — ordered me to the sand heap to dig and 
 toil for the daily necessaries of life, and I will sacri- 
 fice a few days or weeks to see who is master, 
 thought or stupidity, honest dealing between man 
 and man, or midnight wolfishness. I know facts 
 from fancies, laws that produce things from lies 
 that rot things, when I see them in broad daylight. 
 There may be more behind the bush than there is 
 in front for the man who looks all around it. 
 
 "But let the future take care of these things. Tell 
 me, Jochen, don't you think it would have been well 
 to put a condition in the leases that the men should 
 work so and so many days per year with such and 
 such teams, on a road that might be established 
 from the land to the river?" 
 
 "That was not necessary, sonny; they will do that 
 anyhow. They get the benefit of it." 
 
 "Yes, but I am old enough to have seen that it is 
 not always enough that a thing be a common 
 benefit to make it of common concern. One pulls 
 'Gee' and the other 'Haw' sometimes, and no head- 
 way is made in either direction. It occurred to 
 me that if the landlord could say 'Do that thing 
 now!' it would not make it any the less their road 
 and it would prevent disagreements." 
 
 "Yes, sonny, yes! That is it. That is what I 
 say. What is the use of talking to you! It would 
 be better. But I tell you! We just tell Mr. Pastor 
 and you'll see the road will be built. He'll get the 
 
 black fellow (the devil) after them. It will be 
 built!" 
 
 "But what is the use, Jochen, of using such powers 
 when we can manage our affairs without them? To 
 tell you the truth, I don't object to a scare-crow in 
 a melon patch, or orchard, but I don't like to rely 
 upon one of them to raise the crop, to plow and 
 tend it, I mean. I would always prefer to do that 
 myself, or to have a good, trustworthy, live man, 
 and I think that the Lord's vineyard would be less 
 weedy, and in better condition generally, if those in 
 charge relied less upon scare-crows and more upon 
 an honest tilling of the soil." 
 
 "Likely you're right, sonny, but when shall we 
 go to look out that road? You see, we take our 
 wagon, fix it up just as it is now, and we can go 
 and stay a month anywhere, wherever we please. 
 But of course, I can't get away from home that 
 long. When my marketing is done I can get away, 
 but not until then." 
 
 "There is no hurry — no particular hurry about 
 that, Jochen. Only when a thing is done it re- 
 quires no more care; and all these things are easy 
 now, when they may be troublesome years hence. 
 We don't have to go through people's fields now, 
 and a road once established is respected, because 
 needed by everybody; houses are put up and fields 
 are cleared accordingly," 
 
 "Yes, Henry, and we will go and look it over as 
 soon as ever you can get oflf. Mr. Pheyety will help 
 us; and you see, I make a whole week by the trip we 
 made this time. I had promised Mr. Pastor to give 
 them a week with a team. But he didn't know how 
 hungry them prairie wolves, I mean, them prairie 
 fellows in the settlement, were for land. He told 
 me himself that as soon as he commenced talking 
 about it to Kulle and Krome and them fellows, they 
 jumped at the chance and told him he needn't to 
 trouble anybody else, that they would break the land 
 and put it under cultivation for a share of the crops. 
 That lets me out, you see, and I can spare a few 
 days for something else." 
 
 "There is no hurry about it. We can go at any 
 time this fall, before the roads and weather get bad. 
 But I should like to attend to it before winter sets 
 in. I brought a set of plats of the county from 
 the clerk's office the other day, and if we get Mr. 
 Pheyety, who knows the corners for some distance 
 round, to help us, I can fix the papers and have the 
 whole matter attended to in a very little time." 
 
 "Now, sonny, we must start. It is 4 o'clock," he 
 said, bridling up the horses. "By half-past eight or 
 nine o'clock we will be at the Cahokia bridge and by 
 10 I will be at home. To-morrow morning I will 
 bring the chicks over, which you promised to kill 
 
 for Mrs. F , but forgot all about; and some 
 
 'berry thieves' that were stealing your nuts. I think 
 I better bring some of them, too. Perhaps the old 
 gentleman would like them; he is sick anyhow." 
 
 We had started by this time and he had planted 
 himself in his seat, as if he wanted to drive and not 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 97 
 
 talk, so I commenced arranging things in my own 
 mind and did not disturb him. 
 
 At the watering place the horses stopped as if of 
 their own accord, and he gave them their usual bite 
 to munch and some water; with the remark, "That 
 was a good little pull. Now, once more boys, and 
 we will be at the bridge." This was reached half 
 an hour ahead of time and he remarked: 
 
 "I thought that oats step of yours would amount 
 to something, but I didn't think it would be so much. 
 You see, Henry, them fellows have their own tricks. 
 They may seem to you to go as fast when you are 
 going from home as when you are coming back, 
 but when you time them you find that they have 
 cheated you in spite of everything you can do. Now, 
 good night, sonny. To-morrow morning I will take 
 
 the game up to Mr. F 's house and tell them 
 
 that you sent it." 
 
 "Good night, Jochen; remember me at home, and 
 don't forget to kiss little Yetta for me for the pillow 
 she sent." 
 
 August 28, 1856. 
 
 Have written all the evening on my last trip and 
 have not caught up yet; but I must write it out be- 
 cause it will be of interest to me hereafter. 
 
 August 29, 1856. 
 Still writing on my last trip; and working hard 
 all day to push the patterns into shape before the 
 fifth of next month, when the shop commences run- 
 ning again. 
 
 August 30, 1856. 
 
 Have nearly finished writing up my trip. Had a 
 
 very pleasant time this morning with Mr. F . 
 
 We looked over my work, all the work I have done 
 since the shop closed, and he remarked that if any- 
 body had told him, without himself seeing it, that 
 two men had done the work in the time in which it 
 was done, he could not have believed him. 
 
 "These pattern men keep their own counsel and 
 you never know what is a fair day's work for your 
 money. But I have never troubled myself much 
 about it, for the reason that the cost of a pattern is 
 a small matter, provided that it is a good one — has 
 the iron in the right place. Have you seen the man 
 at work yet on your house? I came by there this 
 morning and he seems to be a good man — he is 
 doing good work." 
 
 I remarked that one of the molders, Fritz Ober- 
 meyer, had sent him to me and that I had formed a 
 good opinion of the man. 
 
 "You must introduce him to me if he does his 
 work well. I always need men of that kind; they 
 are sometimes hard to find; I mean fair men; not 
 thieves! By the by, my wife asked me to thank you 
 for the basket of game you sent up to the house. I 
 believe I shall have to hire you to hunt for me. The 
 young squirrels were excellent, and I feel better 
 after eating them than I have after meals for weeks." 
 
 I told him that squirrels were my favorite meat 
 
 Another call from Mr. F- 
 
 the evening. He 
 
 came in laughing, with an open letter in his hand. 
 
 "What have you been doing over in Illinois?" he 
 said. "Our old friend, Mr. Pheyety, to whom I sent 
 you the other day, writes to me that all the Dutch 
 of the prairie have migrated into his neighborhood. 
 He says that they started in last Saturday with 
 seven plows and had twenty-three going last Mon- 
 day, upon the land that he showed to you; that they 
 have built two houses in one day, with roof and 
 doors complete, and will have two more finished be- 
 fore the letter can reach me, and that, too, on gov- 
 ernment land, more than a hundred yards beyond 
 your line. He asks me to go at once and enter that 
 piece of woodland for him — a thing he should have 
 done long ago and always intended to do; but he 
 thought he had time enough— the Dutch wouldn't 
 find it out. What does it mean, Henry? Are these 
 men really on your land?" 
 
 "I think they are, Mr. F . I left them there 
 
 last Sunday, and I think they are there yet and 
 likely to stay for the next five years, at least." 
 
 "With twenty-three plows?" 
 
 "I expect there are more there by this time. You 
 see, they think that prairie can't be broken to ad- 
 vantage after this month. They are in a hurry. The 
 season crowds them." 
 
 "And you have leased the land, you say, for five 
 years?" 
 
 "Yes. They fence the land; build the necessary 
 farm buildings for four farms, into which the tract 
 is divided. They break the land and put it into good 
 cultlvatable condition, and for doing this they have 
 the use of it for three years from last Friday. Then 
 for the two following years they pay me seventy- 
 five cents an acre per year for the land under culti- 
 vation." 
 
 "But how did you manage to do that? You have 
 been gone only three days and had to travel one 
 hundred and twenty miles." 
 
 "More than that! I have been to M , the 
 
 county seat, to examine the record, to see that my 
 title is all right." 
 
 "Then, where did you get these people?" 
 
 "Where there are plenty more — the thing that I 
 have been talking about and you always shake your 
 head at when I mention it." 
 
 After he had walked for some time up and down 
 the room he stopped and said: 
 
 "Henry, you ought to have told me of this. I 
 could have shown you how you could have gotten 
 even with those fellows, who have sixty per cent of 
 your money in their pockets. You are going to 
 make a heap of money for them on the top of it." 
 
 "How, Mr. F ?" 
 
 "They own four or five sections of land, right in 
 a body, adjoining yours; and those people that you 
 have brought into the neighborhood, they are work- 
 ers, and will make the land of Mr. L worth 
 
 double and triple what it was before." 
 
 "But Mr. F , I bought from Mr. L all 
 
98 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 that land last Thursday. That is, I hold his land 
 for a deed, in legal form, good any time these 
 twenty days, and paid fifty dollars cash on account of 
 the purchase. Do you think he will refuse to make 
 that bond good?" 
 
 I handed him the paper and after looking at it 
 he said: 
 
 "No, he couldn't if he wanted to, and he will not 
 try to do that I know him for that. Now, Henry, 
 you are even. You want some money to make the 
 first payment, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes. I have drawn a deed of trust upon my 
 Sixth street property, which I will give as security. 
 I will need five thousand, two hundred dollars to 
 finish my house and make the first payment upon 
 this land." 
 
 "No, Henry. I do not want a deed of trust from 
 you; your note or memorandum is good enough 
 for me. You go up to-morrow morning and close 
 
 that trade with Mr. L . I will give you a check 
 
 — no, I will send for the money myself, and hand 
 it to you to-morrow morning at lO o'clock. This 
 will please my brother and my wife — who have 
 taken quite a liking to you." 
 
 I thanked him. 
 
 "But what can I write to Mr. Pheyety! Oh well, 
 I know. The old fellow objects to being made rich. 
 I will try and explain matters so that he will not 
 get mad with you because he is your next neighbor, 
 if he is three miles oflf." 
 
 I laughed and said: 
 
 "Mr. F , that is precisely what another gen- 
 tleman said upon the same subject — a man who used 
 to work for him and who to-day owns a much 
 better farm than his old boss." 
 
 August 31, 1856. 
 
 Closed my business with Mr. L , who was 
 
 very glad to see me. Told me that the improve- 
 ment on Sixth street was coming on finely and 
 made a show, as if the owner had confidence in 
 himself and in the future of the city. He had the 
 deed drawn, acknowledged it before a notary and 
 commissioner of deeds, in the oflfice, and I paid him 
 the money. I then signed the notes for the deferred 
 payments, and the deed of trust, and acknowledged 
 it before the same functionary, exchanged the papers 
 with him and bade him "good morning." 
 
 From there I went to kiss my dear one. I then 
 came by my house and was surprised at the pro- 
 gress of the work. The entire cellar or basement is 
 excavated and the area wall is up, all except the 
 coping which Mr. Stock explained to me was the 
 last work done, to prevent injury during the con- 
 struction of the house. 
 
 Came by Mr. Olflf's to see what progress he is 
 making with the parlor stove. We can commence 
 casting as soon as the shop starts up and gives us 
 
 iron. I then went to Mr. F 's house, as he - 
 
 had requested me to do in the morning, and showed 
 him the deed for the land. Was affected by Mrs. 
 
 F ; the interest she took in the transactioi 
 
 She said: 
 
 "Mr. B , it makes me feel that there is a jus 
 
 God in Heaven when I see an honest man escap 
 out of the clutches of these sharpers, who thin 
 everything is their own that they can put the 
 hands on." 
 
 I thanked the good lady for her kindness. Sh 
 then asked how she could manage to get youn 
 squirrels for Mr. F . 
 
 "He feels so much better after eating them, thj 
 I would pay any price if I could get them regularl; 
 fresh. Those I find in the market have a quee 
 flavor, they don't taste natural, and I don't thin 
 they are healthy," she remarked. 
 
 I explained to her that they lost their naturi 
 flavor by being neglected after they are killed. 
 
 "The food in their stomachs," said I, "consistin 
 of the most concentrated vegetable matter, ferment 
 and liberates gases, which permeate the flesh an 
 destroy its flavor, especially where a number of thei 
 are piled together before the animal heat has lei 
 the carcass. I will see whether I can not make ai 
 rangements by which you will be supplied wit 
 what you want and, I may add, with what you nee( 
 I speak from experience, carefully collected, whe 
 I say that there is no food in reach of us, of th 
 people of an inland city, as healthy and nourishin 
 for men who work with their heads as squirrels." 
 
 I then told Mr. F the condition of the wor 
 
 on the parlor stove with which he was pleased. 
 
 "But," said I, "Mr. F , you will have to ge 
 
 up another cook stove." 
 
 "Why, have you seen anything new?" 
 
 "No, but I saw one of your stoves used in a ne^ 
 way. In a German settlement, where I was a fe^ 
 days ago, the blacksmith's wife used coal for fuel i 
 one of your stoves. I asked her how it worked an 
 she told me: 
 
 " 'Very well, only it takes a good deal to start it 
 but I can do with half the wood.' " 
 
 "You know they live in the 'naked prairie,' a 
 Mr. Pheyety says, on land, in fact, whose fertilit; 
 prevents it from producing wood, 'forest growth.' " 
 
 "How do you make that out, Mr. B ? Lam 
 
 too rich to grow trees?" 
 
 "We may regard it as a paradox in nature, bu 
 it is a fact. The great fertility of the land produce 
 an immense growth of grass. This annually ripen 
 and dies in the fall and feeds the autumnal fires 
 These destroy the yearly arboreal plantings, as th 
 young sprouts show a foot or two above the ground 
 Where there is no great fertility there is no grass 
 where there is no grass there are no annual fires 
 and where there are no annual fires the forest take 
 possession and maintains itself, if the meteorologica 
 conditions are any way favorable." 
 
 "And the ground is suitable?" he added. 
 
 "The ground makes no difference in the long rui 
 for forest growth. It creates its own soil. Barrel 
 sand,, so-called, is all right provided it lies still 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 99 
 
 The only thing that it cannot subdue to its purpose 
 is a naked rock with a perfectly smooth surface, with- 
 out fissure, crack or crevice; and such does not 
 exist in nature — at least not of any size. The 
 meteorological conditions control and they are 
 favorable as far as the watershed of the Mississippi 
 is concerned; for the drainage system of that area 
 is itself proof of the excess of precipitation over 
 evaporation, of humid weather over dry; for it car- 
 ries off that excess back to nature's reservoir, the 
 ocean. We have a right, therefore, to conclude that 
 for the area in question, the Mississippi ba'sin, the 
 rule holds — unless it be the extreme western edge, 
 where modifications may occur on account of the 
 elevation above the sea level — that wherever we see 
 forest it is protected by water in the immediate 
 vicinity, or by the poverty of the soil; and wherever 
 we see those vast oceans of grass, we see the future 
 granaries of our country. For what are wheat, rye, 
 barley, oats, hay, corn itself but grasses; and from 
 my earliest recollections up to this day, I never saw 
 a pifce of land that produced good grass but what 
 also produced good wheat, rye and the rest of the 
 cereals, if properly cultivated." 
 
 "And you think that Mr. Pheyety and the frontier 
 people, the first comers, picked out the poorest land 
 to clear and left the richest land, that was cleared, 
 for those that come later? That is not natural, 
 Henry." 
 
 "And yet it may be, Mr. F . But if it is not 
 
 natural, it is a fact, and that is, or ought to be 
 enough. Let Mr. Pheyety offer Mr. Kulle, who has 
 a prairie farm, and has just threshed his forty-three 
 hundred bushels of wheat, his crop for this year — 
 let Mr. Pheyety offer him his land, the upland forest 
 which he selected and cleared fifteen years ago, in 
 exchange for the naked prairie and see what Mr. 
 Kulle will say. He can offer him five acres for 
 one and Mr. Kulle will decline the trade. But you 
 think it is unnatural that the first comers should fail 
 to take the best land. I thought so, too, when I 
 saw these prairies the first time, some ten years ago, 
 and found the practice of these people in contradic- 
 tion with my conviction. But shortly afterward I 
 made a trip with some gentlemen, looking at the 
 country, a's they called it. 
 
 "We camped out, and when we started off after 
 our noonday rest, it was the practice that some of 
 us rode ahead to pick out the trail and to select the 
 camp ground for the night. One day I was one of 
 those who had to perform this duty, and after we 
 had selected the place to stay all night, I rode back 
 to meet the wagon, so that the driver would have 
 less trouble to find us. As I approached he called 
 out: 
 
 "'Have you found a place. Cap?'" 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 "A good one?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Plenty of wood and water?" 
 
 "Yes; and some grass, too, for the horses!" 
 
 "Plenty of wood and water — that was the ques- 
 tion for the camper, and plenty wood and water is 
 the question for the frontiersman. What does he 
 care or know about land? Wood and water are 
 prime necessaries — he is a camper! 
 
 "His practice was and is perfectly natural and not 
 in conflict with my conviction; and so I advised my 
 neighbors in Europe accordingly, and to-day it is no 
 longer a question. Ten years ago Mr. Pheyety 
 thought that Mr. Krome, poor man, had been 
 swindled by some unconscionable dog, with eighty 
 acres of land in the prairie! What in the world he 
 could do with it — not a stick of wood, not a drop 
 of water on it — what the poor man would do, he, 
 Mr. Pheyety, could not see! What, he has done is 
 plain enough! 
 
 "The twenty plows which Mr. Pheyety saw last 
 Monday upon one small piece of that naked prairie — 
 and there are forty plows there to-day, or I am dis- 
 appointed — ought to be enough, if the mountains of 
 grass which he saw go to waste and causing waste 
 year by year were not sufficient — these plows, I 
 think, ought to be enough to teach him what these 
 poor people are going to, or can do. 
 
 "But if it is not enough for him, it ought to be 
 enough for us; and I want a coal cooking stove 
 for these people — for coal is so much cheaper — so 
 the woman said — cheaper even in a wood stove, 
 without the necessary draft." 
 
 "Did you hear him, Mary?" he said with a laugh. 
 "You shall have one, Henry. The thing is too im- 
 portant to be laughed at. It is bound to come, even 
 in town here. 
 
 "But there is sense in what you say about the 
 grass. I never saw a good meadow that didn't 
 make a good field when broken up. Just think of it, 
 if all these lands which have been regarded as waste 
 turn out to be productive, Mary! It makes a man's 
 head swim!" 
 
 "Yes, and then you give them transportation from 
 the interior to the great waterways, and over them 
 to the ocean, and so on to the markets of the world 
 — transportation, say, at half a cent a ton per mile, 
 and you have the foundation of the west side of 
 what you call my air castles." 
 
 "And what is the foundation of the other side, 
 Mr. B ?" said Mrs. F . 
 
 "The forty plows that are breaking a section of 
 this land in a week or ten days — the source where 
 they come from — the east." 
 
 "He is bottomless, Mary! There is no limit to 
 his faith in the future of this country!" 
 
 "But tell me, Henry, how in the world did you 
 manage to get these people together in so short a 
 time?" 
 
 "It is a long story, Mr. F , and if I were to 
 
 try to meet your question, the answers might look 
 as if they were made to order. But I have written 
 all the details in my notebook, and when you have 
 an hour to spare some evening, drop down to my 
 
100 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 den, as you call it, where you have a chair of your 
 own, and I will read it to you." 
 
 "No, no, Mr. B , you come up here and read 
 
 it to us. I want to hear it, too," said Mrs. F . 
 
 "But, Mrs. F , I am not accustomed to ladies' 
 
 society, and I have never read anything that I re- 
 member before ladies. It would embarrass me." 
 
 "There shall be nobody here but ourselves and 
 brother Oliver. He will be so much interested. No, 
 you must come; you are not embarrassed by my 
 presence!" 
 
 "I tell you, Mrs. F , how we can get out of 
 
 the difficulty. You know I work for your husband; 
 I have to do what he tells me. Now, if he orders 
 me to come up here, I cannot refuse. You just talk 
 to him!" 
 
 "I told you he is bottomless!" said Mr. F , 
 
 giggling. "Never mind, I will make him come up 
 after I see brother Oliver!" 
 
 "I would suggest, Mr. F , that when you 
 
 order me to come up here you also devise some 
 method to get rid of me again. I have been talking 
 here as if there was no work to do at the shop. 
 Good day!" 
 
 September i, 1856. 
 
 Saw Mr. Hanse-Peter this morning early at his 
 stand and told him that we might have to make our 
 trip over again to-night or to-morrow morning. 
 Asked him whether we could go to-night. 
 
 "Yes, but we can't start until 6 o'clock. You see, 
 I have to sell out first and then go home and get 
 the other team and wagon. If I tell you by 11 
 o'clock, will that be time enough?" 
 
 "Plenty." 
 
 At 10 I saw Mr. F , and asked his advice. 
 
 "Go, Henry, but don't forget your notebook. We 
 want to hear it when you get back; say Tuesday 
 night, that will suit my brother." 
 
 "I thanked him and promised to be on hand." 
 
 Met Jochen at the bridge at 6 o'clock but was 
 disappointed. He drove the colts, his driving team — 
 he could not talk. 
 
 "Get in Henry, and go to sleep as soon as you want 
 to; you see I have to drive," he said. 
 
 And drive he did, with attention on his team and 
 the road, no less unremitting than that of a locomo- 
 tive engineer on his machine, striking for forty miles 
 an hour. A strangely exhilarating luxury, a drive 
 with such a team and such a driver! I was far 
 enough from going to sleep with all the business 
 before me, and the opportunity to cry "Big berries — 
 here they are, safe in the basket" to the man whom it 
 would give more real pleasure than it could to myself, 
 right at my side. But I restrained myself and ob- 
 served the propriety of the occasion by perfect 
 silence, intimating thereby that the ride itself was 
 sufficient to entertain me. I knew that Jochen 
 appreciated this, as much as the musician appreciates 
 the attention which he elicits by his exertion for the 
 amusement of his hearers. His way of intimating or 
 
 expressing his appreciation might be rude, or he 
 might have no way of expressing it at all. Still, he 
 felt it as keenly as ever did an artist on the piano; 
 and they are usually regarded as extremely thin- 
 skinned in such matters. 
 
 We swept on; mile after mile was left behind, until 
 we got to the watering place, where Jochen halted, 
 jumped out of the wagon, had a word with his colts, 
 gave them a bite of bread, then a gallon or so of 
 water each, and remounted. 
 
 "You're still awake, Henry? Wrap up in the 
 blanket; the cool air is not warmed by the pace of 
 the colts. They go" — and we were off again. 
 
 "That's all right; steady, Jobe!" and on looking 
 ahead, I saw the flags of several deer going up a 
 spur of the bluff which we were just passing. They 
 had crossed the road just ahead of the horses, and 
 but for the vigilance of the driver and his encourag- 
 ing voice at the right time, we would no doubt have 
 scared them, young as they are. As it was we 
 swept on, while the deer gave a snort of defiance, 
 as they gained the elevated ground above us and 
 felt secure from danger. 
 
 But the snort announced that the buck has left 
 his retirement for the season, and is ready to chal- 
 lenge instead of avoid attention. He is a great 
 braggart then and not at all averse to try conclu- 
 sions for supremacy with any rival that may invade 
 his chosen bailiwick. These tests sometimes prove 
 fatal to both combatants. They strike their antlers 
 together with such force that the prongs become 
 interlocked, and all their strength proves insufficient 
 to extricate themselves. I may add here that in my 
 forest experience I have never witnessed the oc- 
 currence, although I have in my possession a pair of 
 skulls with the horns interlocked, which were picked 
 up after the animals were dead. The condition oi 
 the adhering scraps of skin, frayed sinews and flesh 
 prove conclusively that both were exposed to the 
 same disintegrating influences, and this of course 
 could only have occurred under the condition thai 
 both animals perished simultaneously. They remair 
 locked and can not be separated without breaking 
 some of the prongs. I have often when looking al 
 them wondered which of these two was fittest tc 
 survive and which to perish. Nature seems tc 
 have been impartial; cared as much for the one as 
 for the other, and nothing for either. 
 
 We arrived in camp in ample time for a gooc 
 night's rest; if daylight did not usually come sc 
 early with Jochen. But considerably before the 
 first red streak appeared in the east, I was arousec 
 by his voice, "Henry, sonny, come! It is time to bf 
 astir, or we miss the first boat" — -either talking b) 
 rote, from habit, or intending to fool me into i 
 momentary belief that we were at his house. But 1 
 jumped up, out of my hay bed, bathed my head, arms 
 shoulders and chest in the glorious waters of the 
 spring, and when the reaction set in, and I drank i 
 cup of his coffee on the top of that, I felt all the 
 pleasures that mere physical life can yield, at its verj 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 lOI 
 
 best. We were soon on the road. I hummed to 
 myself by way of a feeler to see whether I could 
 not draw Jochen into a talk. But no. Straight as a 
 Prussian ram rod, and with as little utterance, he sat, 
 minding his colts and them alone. And they seemed 
 to require all the attention he gave them. Instead 
 of showing the effects of a hard drive, as I regarded 
 it, of the night before, they seemed to feel like my- 
 self, as if their skins lacked considerable of being 
 large enough to hold them. We swept on, and I 
 am confident the twenty odd miles which we drove 
 before Jochen opened his lips and we halted on the 
 southwest corner of section five, my first purchase, 
 were driven in two hours and a half, although I had 
 no time-piece to ascertain the fact with anything 
 like certainty. As the horses came to a stand Jochen 
 rose to his feet, and looking east and then to the 
 north, said: 
 
 "Henry, sonny, get up and look! See, where's our 
 grass? What has become of it? Nay, may the 
 hangman take it if they ain't on the last two eighties 
 down yonder at the camp! Nay, sonny, say what 
 you will, what is true is true. Them prairie gophers 
 know how to play with grass. They are death on 
 it. Narren tant, Henry! Narren tant, sonny! We 
 wouldn't have grass enough to stake out the colts 
 to-night but for our neighbors!" 
 
 "Why, Jochen, is there not grass enough for two 
 horses between here and the timber over there, on 
 the edge of the bluff? Or over yonder, on the other 
 side of the breaking?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, sonny, that is what I say; we have to 
 feed off our neighbors!" 
 
 "What neighbors, Jochen?" 
 
 "You know! I don't!" 
 
 "Well, Jochen, I will tell you. I own that grass — 
 this half section here and the four sections yonder, 
 beyond the breaking. I would have told you so last 
 night but you had to drive." 
 
 "Jobe, get up! Vip!" 
 
 And away we went down the line. We had 
 scarcely driven a hundred yards or so when he 
 stopped, looked me squarely in the face, and said: 
 
 "And you are not making fun of me, Henerick?" 
 
 "I own that land and here is the deed for it" — 
 handing him the document. 
 
 "I had bought it a week ago when we were here 
 before, but I did not have the deed and that was the 
 reason that I spoke of the berries — that I would 
 not halloo until I had them in the basket — just to 
 show you that I remembered your lesson. I also 
 told you then that I would get even with my men; 
 the men who had swindled me out of my hard 
 earnings; and, Jochen, you see I have got even! I 
 have collected my money with a very respectable 
 interest. The land reaches five miles from where we 
 are clean to Krome's corner." 
 
 "Jobe, get up." 
 
 "No, Jochen, don't drive yet. I want to ask you a 
 question that is important to me now. When we 
 were here before I found out what I did not know. 
 
 I supposed that all this work would be done out of 
 Christian charity; that the people of the settlement 
 would help the new neighbors, because Mr. Pastor 
 told them that it was their duty. Now, how much 
 of the work was there done that way?" 
 
 "It wouldn't amount to two eighties. You see, we 
 would have helped them, but it was not necessary." 
 
 "Just so. Neither scare-crow nor the promise of 
 golden wings was necessary. The simple fact that 
 the people in the settlement wanted more land to 
 work has turned this section of grass into manure for 
 future crops, in one week's time. Now that, Jochen, 
 is God Almighty's own arrangement. That is the 
 way he works, with perfectly plain, open and self- 
 evident means. The other way may be all right, 
 too, but they seem to me just here to lead in a little 
 different direction." 
 
 "Mr. Pastor asked me last week whether I could 
 not help him get some more land. He said that he 
 could 'settle all this tract with good, honest, hard- 
 working people in a very short time, on the same 
 terms that we have done this section." 
 
 "Narren tant, man! That will never do at alll 
 On the same terms? Why on the same terms? Yes, 
 the same terms! The Olle Kulle will pay you twenty 
 dollars an acre for that farther section, and if you 
 let me sell it, he will not get it! No! Krome would 
 sell the shirt off his back before Kulle would get it. 
 Same terms! But you don't sell! Not a foot of it! 
 Not a foot! You know you promised me! You can't 
 sell a foot of it with my consent! What would 
 your father say if he heard that I stood by and 
 allowed his son, my own Henry, to throw away — 
 yes, just throw away such a thing!" 
 
 "But, Jochen, you're flying off the handle. I'm 
 not talking about selling, yet." 
 
 "Yet, Henry, yet! Never spoil a piece like that! 
 You want just — let me see, yes, you want a hun- 
 dred and sixty acres more and that makes it. Four 
 thousand acres and you can sit on your porch, up 
 there on the bluff, and look over every acre of it — 
 every acre of it! Just one hundred and sixty acres!" 
 
 "How about the six by three feet that I will need 
 some day, or they will need for me? Have you 
 counted them in?" 
 
 "Sonny, that comes of its own accord; never mind 
 that!" 
 
 "Now, if you will be quiet and listen, I will ask 
 you the question that I started to ask. Suppose I 
 conclude to keep the land; do you think that it 
 would be better to let Mr. Pastor find me new tenants 
 for the whole of it, or shall I lease a part of it to 
 the well-to-do fellows of the settlement? That is 
 the question that I want you to think of — and just 
 be quiet about the wonderful thing, as it seems to 
 you, to own a few acres of land. It doesn't make me 
 one particle better or worse If I control it as a 
 reasonable being. It is that which I have to attend to 
 now and in that you can help me. 
 
 "I have determined to accommodate Mr. Pastor, 
 at least in part — but whether I might not do better 
 
102 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 by letting in some of the other fellows directly, or 
 make them rent from the beginners, as they do here, 
 that I have not decided yet. 
 
 "Drive up, the people below have seen us; think it 
 over and let me know before we say anything to any- 
 body — mark that, Jochen. You shall crow and brag 
 to your heart's content, but you must wait until day- 
 break, until the proper times comes." 
 
 We soon reached Lerke, on the upper turn of the 
 lower forty; and he was happy to see us, but could 
 not leave the plow to shake hands. We drove down 
 to Lerke's house, the first on the west, and found 
 the grove around it trimmed up, the under brush cut 
 out and piled in vacant places, to be burned out of 
 the way when dry — that is, the part unfit for fire 
 wood. As we approached, Mrs. Lerke came out and 
 shook us by the hand, with every expression of good 
 will that could be crowded into her face and manner. 
 
 "Get out and step in. We are all up-side down 
 yet; we have had such a crowd to take care of all 
 the week. But, God be thanked, we got under roof 
 before we had any bad weather — we beat our floor 
 a little and it does very well." 
 
 This was in response to my stamping with my 
 feet, to see how solid the earth was in the house. 
 They have dug shallow trenches around the houses, 
 so as to prevent the water from seeping in, and as 
 the ground was dry when they were roofed in, the 
 floors are in fair condition. 
 
 "I haven't had time to clean up yet this morning. 
 Mrs. Spassman and I just finished fencing in our calf 
 pasture. Come and see." 
 
 Sure enough, they had fenced more than two acres 
 of prairie to keep their calves in — a quite important 
 matter, as the keeping of the calf up causes the cow 
 to remain in the vicinity and to come home at night. 
 
 Spassman was next. He has solved the difficulty 
 about water by relying for the present upon a barrel 
 mounted upon a pair of runners. 
 
 "We like the place better than any of the rest, 
 because we have so much land on this side of the 
 creek," said Mrs. Spassman. "That will give us the 
 handiest pasture; and as for water, we can get that 
 any where by digging a well." 
 
 The house stands in line with the rest, and what 
 the good woman said about the desirableness of the 
 place was perfectly self-evident, after the practical 
 situation pointed it out. Still, I had overlooked it 
 entirely and was afraid they would consider them- 
 selves unfairly dealt with. The cost of sinking a 
 well and walling it up will be inconsiderable when 
 compared with the other advantages of the place. 
 
 We found Mrs. Knickmeyer and Mrs. Luebke in as 
 good humor, or if anything, better, for they had 
 improved the time which we had spent in the other 
 houses to "straighten up things" and put on a clean 
 apron. 
 
 Mrs. Luebke was very glad we came, "Because," 
 she said, "last Monday there was a man here on 
 horse back. He rode up and down the line in front 
 of our houses and asked my husband who had given 
 
 him permission to build on government land; that al 
 our houses stood more than a hundred yards over th< 
 line of our land; and we didn't know what to say 
 But my husband told him that we had rented tht 
 land from a man in St. Louis and that he had showr 
 us where to build. Then he said that the man didn'( 
 know where the line was and that we better be care- 
 ful how we cut the big timber, or we might get intc 
 trouble. And you see, we didn't know. But Mr 
 Witte and Mr. Krome told us that you knew mors 
 about such things than all the Irishmen in the prairie 
 They said that it was a man that lives up yonder ir 
 the timber, near the bluff, and that he had always lei 
 on that he owned this tract of timber land. And Mr 
 Witte said: 
 
 "If it was government land ten days ago, i( 
 wouldn't be government land long after Henrj 
 bought that prairie. I know him for that. Il 
 wouldn't be like his father's son." 
 
 I told her not to worry about what people mighl 
 say. 
 
 "If anybody comes to trouble you, unless it is a 
 government officer, you use the old house-right. Gc 
 for him with the broom stick, or anything that comes 
 handy, as your mother used to do in the old country! 
 This is your house and your land, as long as you dc 
 as you agreed to do with me. There is nobody that 
 has anything to say here in the absence of your hus- 
 band but yourself, unless it is with your permission.' 
 
 "Just let him come again! I'll show him!" she 
 said, shaking her fist in the direction where she sup- 
 posed he might live. "I'll show him — to make peo- 
 ple sleepless nights. Henry didn't sleep a wink the 
 whole night, worrying about it! You see, people 
 get fooled so much in this country!" 
 
 "He will not come again, Mrs. Luebke. He is not 
 a bad man. He only made a mistake — like any one 
 of us can make. I saw a letter from him to a friend 
 in St. Louis. He wanted to buy this land and waited 
 too long. He was the agent for the man in St. 
 Louis who owned all that prairie. He selected the 
 
 land for Mr. L when he entered it. He thought 
 
 nobody would want that strip of timber until Mr. 
 
 L should sell the prairie, and then he would 
 
 buy the wood. He just missed it by a day or two. 
 But he is a good man and will be a good neighbor. 
 He 'Will not trouble you any more about cut- 
 ting timber upon government land." 
 
 Jochen had been busy with his colts, and after he 
 had them located to suit himself he called me out 
 ostensibly to go and see some of the men, but really 
 to talk to me about the matter I had submitted to 
 him. We walked down to the spring and sat down. 
 
 "Yes, Henry," he commenced, "that is as it is. I 
 look at it from this side and it is all right, and I look 
 at it from that side and it is all right, too. We can 
 get more money from the well-to-do fellows, but 
 if we start thirty or thirty-five families on this land, 
 they will be well-to-do, too, in a few years, before 
 the lease is out. Then you see, sonny, there will be 
 still more fellows hungry for land. And when I 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 K)3 
 
 look on that side, I like it; but then I should like 
 to get the money, too." 
 
 "Now, suppose we can't get both, Jochen, then 
 what?" 
 
 "I tell you, Henry, they must pay you one dollar 
 an acre a year for the last two years; that is certain. 
 Nobody can have that land for less. Witte said so; 
 KuUe said so, Krome said so, and I say so! Now, 
 that is flat. Then you make them work on that road; 
 and I will tell these fellows here that it is your 
 road, and if they want to use it they must help to 
 make it, or you will charge toll. 
 
 "Then let Mr. Pastor settle his people on it, and 
 let these other fellows help them — work it on shares. 
 In five years from now it will be the best. Every 
 one of these fellows that rents now will buy then, 
 or will want to. Witte did it; Krome did it; Gehrke 
 did it; all did it; 'OUe KuUe' did it; all did it but a 
 few, who had enough to get a forty or eighty acres, 
 themselves." 
 
 "But I should like Mr. Krome to have eighty acres 
 or so. It corners with him and it looks like he 
 ought to have the refusal of some of it." 
 
 "Of course, of course; that is one of your tricks! 
 You haven't forgotten Minken, his wife, yet, have 
 you, sonny? You always were a kind of soft on her. 
 I don't blame you, sonny. She is a good woman, and 
 if he always pulled in the direction she leads it would 
 be better for him. 
 
 "But, you see, we can't break into the arrange- 
 ment. And then, you're not selling the land. He 
 can get what he wants by helping the fellows that 
 get the tract next to him. You tell Mr. Pastor that 
 you want some people on that section that are on 
 good terms with Mr. Krome, and the next you give 
 to friends of Mr. Kulle; that's the way, sonny." 
 
 By this time Mrs. Luebke blew the horn for the 
 men to stop at the end nearest to the house for 
 their breakfast, which was brought to them, and 
 they ate, sitting on their plows. So we went up and 
 shook hands with Mr. Witte, the "Olle Kulle" and the 
 rest, and explained to them the anxiety of Mr. 
 Pheyety about the government lands. When they 
 were through eating, the line of plows, thirty-two 
 in number, started with the regularity of a squadron 
 of cavalry, or some well-adjusted piece of ma- 
 chinery; while Jochen and I were expected to go to 
 four places at once for breakfast, if we did not want 
 to hurt somebody's feelings. I settled the diflficulty 
 by telling Mrs. Luebke that I had eaten with her, 
 and that this time I would eat with Mrs. Knick- 
 meyer, her neighbor; and the next time with Mrs. 
 Spassman, and then with Mrs. Lerke, and after that 
 I would commence the row again from the start. 
 This was satisfactory all around. 
 
 After we had finished eating, I asked Jochen how 
 we could get the deed to the county seat. I ex- 
 plained to him that I had relied upon making ar- 
 rangements with Mr. Bauer, but found that he had 
 already gone home. Jochen called Mrs. Knickmeyer 
 
 and asked her whether she knew anything about Mr. 
 Pastor. 
 
 "Is he at home yet, or is he gone already to preach 
 at Mascoutah?" he inquired. 
 
 "He is at home with a sore throat; it is not bad, 
 but he can't preach. He promised to come down 
 here this afternoon," was the answer. 
 
 "I tell you, Henry," said Jochen, "what we will do; 
 you lay down and rest a while. I will drive over to 
 the Pastor's and tell him that you are here and want 
 to see him. Then I leave the colts at his place, take 
 his horse and the 'play wagon' you had the other 
 
 day, and take the deed to Mr. M , the clerk. 
 
 You're tired and want to see Mr. Pastor anyhow, and 
 while you attend to that, I can attend to the other 
 matter. In that way we will be through here to- 
 night, and to-morrow we have all day to drive home 
 in and look round a little about that road." 
 
 This suited me. I gave him the deed and asked 
 him to bring me back the other, if it was recorded. 
 I then took my gun and shooting apparatus out of 
 the wagon; and he hitched up and was gone, in his 
 usual off-hand manner, before I had reviewed the 
 arrangements in my own mind, as is my habit when 
 I have talked over a matter with somebody else. 
 
 I now spent some time with Mrs. Knickmeyer, who 
 was very proud to show me her children; of whom 
 she has three. The eldest, a daughter, is remarkably 
 strong and tall for her age, as is uniformly the 
 case with the children of these people. The parents, 
 developed under hard labor and harder fare, have 
 notwithstanding healthy constitutions and the chil- 
 dren, begotten and raised under more generous nur- 
 ture, grow up with a rapidity and strength of phy- 
 sique almost phenomenal. The two youngest of her 
 children are boys. 
 
 "Do you know any way, Mr. B , — the Mr. 
 
 Pastor says you know everything — how we could 
 manage to change a girl into a boy? It would be 
 such a help to our father if our eldest was a boy," 
 she said with a smile. 
 
 I remarked that I had not noticed anything among, 
 recent inventions that would enable us to do that, 
 and asked her how many children there were in tke 
 eight families on the place. 
 
 "You see, four of the families are not here yet — 
 the men are only here. They will bring their fami- 
 lies as soon as they get through breaking their land 
 and get their houses up. But in the four families that 
 are here now we have seventeen altogether at this 
 time, and if we have anything like luck we ought to 
 have twenty by Christmas, I think." 
 
 "That would make in the neighborhood of forty 
 children in sight by that time, if the other four fami- 
 lies are as well off as you are." 
 
 "Yes, and you can depend on it that they are; 
 because one of them, Mr. Dasseler, the man who will 
 live on our place, he has six or seven alone." 
 
 I thanked her for her kindness and the excellent 
 breakfast she had served; then told her to tell Mrs. 
 Spassman that I would take dinner with her. 
 
104 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "No, you don't", said she. "I have it already on 
 the fire. You said you would eat with us to-day and 
 you must stick to your promise!" 
 
 Of course I had to accept her understanding of 
 the morning's arrangements. I then started up the 
 creek a piece to determine a matter that had escaped 
 me until I saw and heard of all these little ones; and 
 that was the location of a school house. Forty 
 children in sight and no one, not even Mr. Pastor 
 inquires about or reminds me of the site for one! 
 It will require two at least, said I to myself, for the 
 whole settlement. There must be two and cen- 
 trality of location must govern in selecting the sites. 
 I will reserve five acres of land for each, compel 
 the people to plant shade trees this fall and erect the 
 houses as soon as they get settled. 
 
 Then a church! That we will place on the main 
 road near the blufif. Yes, a central location is not 
 as necessary for a church as for a school house. The 
 people want to show off anyhow, and nobody goes 
 to church afoot in this country. 
 
 Revolving these matters in my mind, I had fol- 
 lowed the section line eastward and found that the 
 creek bears off a point or two north, so that there 
 is no reliance to be placed upon it for water to sup- 
 ply the three eastern sections. The fourth section 
 of these has abundance, as a bend of the creek cuts 
 into it above the spring and gives me some twenty 
 or twenty-five acres of timber. From the formation 
 and general indications, however, there is no likeli- 
 hood that there can be any serious question about 
 the water supply. Fifty dollars will build a well 
 anywhere, in my judgment. I turned back and 
 examined the creek for additional indications of 
 rock, but found none except near the spring. When 
 I reached there I sat down in the shade of a black- 
 jack and after resting awhile I must have fallen 
 asleep; for I thought I heard a horn, once or twice, 
 but was satisfied that it could not be dinner time as 
 yet. I was undeceived, however, and aroused from 
 my half-unconscious state when Luebke and Witte 
 came down to the spring to wash for dinner. 
 
 They had a pleasant joke at my expense, that I 
 could sleep without knowing it, and yet it has hap- 
 pened to me once or twice before. 
 
 "Yes, Henerick, it looks big, but it don't amount 
 to much," said Witte, after we had eaten dinner and 
 were resting in the shade, speaking about the sight 
 of seeing so many plows. 
 
 "Last Wednesday and Thursday," he continued, "it 
 looked well. But thirty plows on a tract of land 
 like that isn't much. You divide it up and you 
 haven't got two plows to the forty acres — it takes 
 thirty-two to give you that. People fool themselves. 
 They don't know what a section of land is, what it 
 takes to handle it and what it can produce. Kulle, 
 he knows — and he is the only one that knows how 
 to handle prairie. He has found it out by experience 
 and has tinkered and tinkered until he has got a plow 
 that suits him. And then he has the teams. He runs 
 seven plows at home — six boys and himself. That 
 
 means something. When the roads are good he hai 
 three four-muled teams a-going between his housi 
 and the mill, at Belleville, the year around — excep 
 in harvest time. You see, he has averaged hen 
 breaking two acres a day to the plow, and he ha; 
 been running five since Monday. He works thre< 
 teams to two plows and uses each team only foui 
 days out of seven. But, Henry, what has become o 
 Jochen? I don't see his wagon." 
 
 I told him where he had gone and the natur( 
 of his errand. 
 
 "Well, well, Henry, God's blessing has been wit! 
 you. It had to come. When they told me how yoi 
 had been swindled I could not understand it. Riches 
 gotten by unjust means are worse than nothing 
 They go as they have come and leave the man i 
 wreck. But I knew you; your father and youi 
 mother. For eight years I ate my bread at theii 
 table, and I knew I was certain you could not have 
 done wrong. It was only a lesson to you, Henry. He 
 meant it as a lesson, to teach you how to take care 
 of much. You see, we all can take care of little; but 
 there must be rich people, and there can not be un- 
 less some can take care of much. I don't know why 
 there must be rich people; but I know that is the 
 way thmgs are arranged." 
 
 I then asked him what he thought of the plan oi 
 turning the land to use, that I had talked over with 
 Jochen. 
 
 "There is no doubt, Henry, it is God's will that 
 these poor people should have homes; and when you 
 give them a chance to earn themselves homes, you're 
 doing His will. If it don't look as profitable now, 
 that makes no difference. Perhaps we don't see all. 
 The blessing may be on the other side of the bush, 
 but it is around some where; depend upon it, Henry, 
 it is around and will find you. 
 
 "But, I tell you," he continued, after thinking for 
 some time, "Henry, you better let Mr, Pastor manage 
 the whole matter — I mean as to who shall have the 
 land. You see, if it looks as if he got you to buy 
 the land for his people, nobody will feel hard about 
 it, because he has been after us for some time to 
 do the same thing; and it will look but natural that 
 when he gets the land he wouldn't let us have it. If 
 Kulle and one or two others do talk a little about 
 him, that makes no difference; they can't hurt him, 
 and they will only think that he played on your good 
 nature, as he has tried to play on theirs." 
 
 "But tell me, Conrad, what would be the best way 
 to lay out the roads — I don't want them to run at 
 haphazard. I want one road to run on the northern 
 front, the whole five miles and a half of the prop- 
 erty. I want to continue that road through the 
 American Bottom to some point on the river where 
 there is a practicable landing for steamboats, so that 
 my people don't have to earn their crops over again 
 while hauling them to market. This much I have 
 settled. But the roads that will be necessary upon 
 the property itself, so that it will make it convenient 
 of access — I mean the different quarter sections into 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 105 
 
 which it will be divided— from the main road; that is 
 the question that puzzles me." 
 
 "You haven't taken hold of the right end, Henry, 
 that is all. Your main road that you mention must 
 not run on the northern line of your property, but 
 upon the half section line, right through the middle 
 of the tract. Then, you see, one-half of the houses, 
 those on the southern quarter sections, will stand on 
 the southern, and those on the northern quarter sec- 
 tions, on the northern side of the road — every half 
 mile a house. It costs one string of fence more at 
 the start, but only at the start, for you will have to 
 have that anyhow. You see here, on this section and, 
 if you choose, on the next the houses may stand, at 
 least for the present, where they are. But up yonder 
 you have no reason to build them so inconvenient 
 to the land. Here it is all right, on account of the 
 wood and water, but there it would be all wrong." 
 
 "And that would give us good locations for our 
 school houses, too — and the church we could put 
 up— " 
 
 "What about the church?" said a voice coming up 
 behind us, which we recognized as that of Mr. 
 Pastor. "What about the church? What have lay- 
 men to say about the church in the absence of the 
 minister?" 
 
 "There were two of us together, Mr. Pastor, and 
 I hope and trust that He who promised that where 
 two or three are gathered together in His name, He 
 would be in the midst of them — I trust, Mr. Pastor, 
 that He was not far distant," said Conrad. 
 
 "And I hope, permit me to add," said I, "that He 
 will not withdraw His presence simply because His 
 representative appears; for we need both the spirit of 
 the Master and the practical sense of His servant." 
 
 "Don't speak lightly, children, of sacred matters!" 
 he admonished. 
 
 "Not lightly, but from the bottom of our hearts, 
 did we speak," said I, "and to answer your question, 
 it was the location of the church for our new settle- 
 ment that we were considering when you arrived." 
 
 "But is not our settlement too small for that? You 
 see, for eight families we may need a school, for 
 they are blessed with many children — how many 
 children are there, let me see?" 
 
 "I have estimated forty up to date, or by next 
 Christmas, as one of the ladies said." 
 
 "Forty, my son? Yes, yes— I would not be sur- 
 prised. There are that many and we must bethink 
 ourselves of a school house. But for a church — " 
 
 "Mr. Hanse-Peter, then, did not tell you his er- 
 rand to M ?" 
 
 "No he did not. He did not go for you and on 
 business that appertains to what we spoke of a 
 week ago, did he?" 
 
 "Yes, I have bought these lands for you." 
 
 "Our blessed Father in heaven be praised for his 
 might and goodness. His blessings have come upon 
 us. His unworthy children. This is too much, my 
 children, you must excuse me for a little while. I 
 will return soon." And he retired. 
 
 I saw him walking up and down on the bank of 
 the creek, his head bent on his breast, and his hands 
 folded on his back as if lost in thought, some mo- 
 ments afterwards. 
 
 Conrad and I continued our planning of the roads. 
 
 "Yes Henry," said he, "that is true. With a road 
 to the river these people here have a better market 
 than I have. They can send their grain and stock 
 and things right down the river. It don't have to 
 come up to town. I have seen them take corn and 
 hogs and horses and mules and cows and cabbage 
 and potatoes — everything, yes, everything — down the 
 river; bacon and ham and everything, and why 
 shouldn't this go from here? Henry, this will be a 
 great thing for these people. Have you picked out 
 the road yet through the bottom?" 
 
 "No, there is no great hurry about that." 
 
 "Yes, but there is, Henry. You see, you can never 
 get it as easy as now. I mean it will be more 
 diflficult to get next year than this, and the year 
 after that than next year. When I came to the bluff 
 we drove anywhere; just as the people do here now. 
 We didn't think about roads then. And now we 
 have to wriggle in and wriggle out, now this way, 
 now that, and pay more for the land we drive over in 
 the time we lose than the best land in our fields is 
 worth. But nobody wants to lose a foot and so it 
 goes. Don't put it ofif. I tell you, I will go with 
 you. Jochen and I will help you look it over. You 
 see, it is more difficult to get a good road through 
 the bottom than it is here. There you have to do 
 with sloughs and ponds; there you must go where 
 you can; here you go where you please." 
 
 Mr. Pastor returning, and the time to hitch up 
 having arrived, Conrad went to his team, with the 
 remark: 
 
 "We will leave it that way, Henry. I will go with 
 you; and this here you must lay out as I told you." 
 
 My business with the minister was soon arranged. 
 I explained to him that I left it entirely in his hands 
 to select the tenants; that as soon as I could fill out 
 the leases I would send them to him, in duplicate, he 
 to have them signed by the parties; and that at the 
 first opportunity I would come out and close the 
 transaction. In the meantime the people could go 
 on with their work. The land would be divided into 
 quarter sections, with a road, to be kept in repair 
 by the adjoining property, through the entire tract. 
 The terms of the leases would be the same as those 
 made a week ago. It had been suggested that the 
 rental for the last two years was too low. 
 
 "That is true, Mr. B , and I intended to tell 
 
 you that I have been told by Mr. Kulle and the best 
 judges in such matters that you ought to have a dol- 
 lar an acre per year. And you know God loves 
 what is right." 
 
 "It may be true that the land is or may be worth 
 that, but I can not make a distinction between the 
 two sets of tenants — it neither looks nor is well. The 
 people here have advantages which the others will 
 not have first, in time. These have a full crop year. 
 
io6 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 while the others can only expect a partial one. Then, 
 these have excellent stock facilities, as regards wood 
 for shelter, and an abundant supply of water — ^both 
 of which will not be as handy for the balance of the 
 property. If any difference ought to be made in the 
 rental, it ought to be made in favor of those who 
 come, instead of these who are here. 
 
 "But above all, Mr. Pastor, the community will 
 be one, and all ought to have an equal chance to 
 prosper. At least, it would be bad policy for me 
 for the sake of a few dollars to weaken the motive 
 of rivalry that will exist among them — for each to do 
 as weil as his neighbor — by establishing a difference 
 between them in the burdens they have to bear. The 
 leases therefore will be the same in every respect 
 as those already granted, except that the new ones 
 will contain only a privilege to cut wood for the use 
 of the farm upon the forest lands, while the others 
 have also the right to live upon them. Another 
 difference will be that I shall reserve two school 
 house sites, of five acres each, and shall require the 
 ground set out with trees and a comfortable log 
 house to be built upon each. Another difference will 
 be that I shall require each tenant to work one 
 week in each and every year, with such teams as 
 may be necessary, upon a road, that I will establish 
 and build to a practicable landing place on the river, 
 through the American Bottom. In these common 
 affairs, in which all are equally interested, I have to 
 rely upon you to induce the people that are now 
 here to join, as they had not suggested themselves 
 when I drew the other leases, nor had the matter 
 assumed the proportion at the time to make them 
 so important." 
 
 "All this, Mr. B , is most excellent fore- 
 thought and I will see to it that these people here 
 do their duty; and if you think it best they shall 
 subscribe to the new conditions that will be so 
 beneficial to us all. And now about the church; you 
 were considering the location of that when I inter- 
 rupted you." 
 
 "My own plan is to place it at the head of the 
 main road, where that strikes the bluff. It will 
 furnish the best view of the settlement on the east, 
 and the great bottom, with the mighty stream, on 
 the west. That is my intention now, but I am not 
 prepared to say for certain at this moment. I 
 reserve the half section on the bluff from present 
 settlement and will determine, as the subject unfolds 
 itself, what is reasonable. But for immediate use, 
 we can increase the size of one of the school houses 
 so as to serve the present want. The people will 
 have their hands full with their own houses for some 
 time to come, and if you can manage to have God's 
 work done in each one of them, and done every day 
 in the year, the house especially devoted to His 
 service for one day in seven only can wait a month 
 or two. 
 
 "Now, I will go and loaf a little in the woods; you, 
 Mr. Pastor, please think over what I have said, pay 
 your visit to the women and children and when I 
 
 come back give me the benefit of any suggestions 
 that have occurred to you." 
 
 "But, Mr. B , your thoughts reach so fai 
 
 that it is difficult to keep up, much less get aheac 
 of them. That road will revolutionize everything ir 
 the old settlement. They have congratulated them 
 selves that if this is the best land they have th( 
 nearest market; and here you turn everything upside 
 down. You cut their road in two and still leav< 
 them half a day's journey behind your people; foi 
 they all will have to come your road. The difference 
 in the distance is too great." 
 
 "They shall be welcome, provided they assist it 
 building and keeping it in repair. If they don't 1 
 will make it a toll road and compel them to pay theii 
 share, or do without the use. But think these mat 
 ters over and then make your suggestions when 1 
 return." 
 
 I took my gun and walked down to the hickorj 
 grove to see whether the squirrels were still a( 
 work — or rather at table. But not a squirrel was tc 
 be seen. The ground was covered with the debris 
 of their industry — hulls and gnawed shells — witt 
 abundance of what we might call sawdust covering 
 the ground, but neither nut nor squirrel anywhere 
 in sight. The feast was ended; the food exhausted. 
 
 Proceeding down farther, with a special eye upon 
 the white and burr oak, I saw at some distance ofl 
 that their attention had been transferred to this kind 
 of product, and succeeded, as I had done before, in 
 bagging what I wanted. I took more, however, as 
 I had a special occasion to supply myself in order tc 
 
 meet my engagements with Mrs. F After 1 
 
 got through shooting I hung up my jacket on the 
 shady side of a large black walnut and continued 
 down the creek. I wanted to see where and how it 
 enters the bottom; for it occurred to me that if it con- 
 tinued its course straight on toward the west, as it 
 seemed to do, it ought to furnish an excellent grade 
 for my contemplated road down the bluff. While 
 thinking of this I disturbed a flock of turkeys, but it 
 was too early in the season, although they looked 
 well grown. I did not shoot at them, but examined 
 them carefully, as they soon got over the first alarm 
 and gave me a good opportunity. They were feeding 
 in the small brush, on the edge of the prairie, upon 
 a plant called a "beggar's louse" — a pea with a 
 hull covered with small hooks, like a burr, by which 
 it attaches itself to a person's clothes, or other rough 
 movable objects with which it comes in contact. 
 The birds, judging from their color and the shading 
 of their plumage, were natives of the prairie. 
 
 It is a remarkable provision of nature that the 
 color, the coat of bird or animal. Is always in har- 
 mony with the prevailing color of their habitat. 
 Even when this seems not to be the case, as for 
 example in the fawn, the young of the deer, who at 
 first sight forms an exception, close observation will 
 convince anyone that it is an instance of the strong- 
 est confirmation of the rule. The favorite cover of 
 the little, dappled fool is the stunted post-oak brush, 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 107 
 
 dwarfed by the recurring fires on the adjacent prairie. 
 I have seen one dodge into a patch of this cover, not 
 over eight feet square in extent, and escape detection 
 after the most patient examination, until in despera- 
 tion I smoked him out by firing the dead leaves on 
 the ground under the brush — and thus convinced my- 
 self of his actual presence there and of the almost 
 utter impossibility to distinguish his dappled skin 
 from the dapple appearance of the ground, caused by 
 the patches of sunlight and shade in which he had 
 taken refuge. 
 
 After walking a full quarter of a mile beyond the 
 western line of my property, I found that the creek 
 turned almost at right angles to her former course, 
 toward the north. This bend is obscured from the 
 distant observer by the timber, and by the circum- 
 stance that the wood of the creek joins that of the 
 bluff. It was therefore in vain to seek a grade for 
 the new road from the bluflf in that direction, and 
 as the sun lengthened the shadows perceptibly, I 
 retraced my steps — not exactly, but cutting off the 
 corner made by the changed direction of the stream, 
 I returned to my hunting jacket. I soon reached 
 camp and found Mr. Witte in consultation with Mr. 
 Pastor. 
 
 "See, Henry, I have been waiting for you. I have 
 got through with my work here and intended to 
 start home, but after thinking the matter over I did 
 not know but what Jochen, you and I might look 
 over that matter in the bottom to-morrow. You see, 
 I have driven through that bottom for the last ten 
 years right smartly and am perhaps better acquainted 
 with its tricks than Jochen; for he only drives a 
 'cat's jump,' as he calls it, and has an old road at 
 that. I talked it over with Mr. Pastor and we 
 thought we might take my mules and wagon along, 
 leave Jochen's team at the foot of the bluflf and take 
 our wagon to drive down to the river. We might 
 possibly do that way in one trip what will be a 
 good long one if we have to come back for it; and 
 when the thing is done it's done — it has to be done 
 sometime. When we come back from the river I 
 will change my mules and Jochen's team will be 
 fresh, and as we have moonlight there will be no 
 difficulty in getting home." 
 
 "That is all right, Mr. Witte, only we must wait 
 until Mr. Hanse-Peter comes back before we decide. 
 I am prepared to do as you suggest." 
 
 "That is all right, Mr. B . Mr. Hanse-Peter 
 
 will join you. You may as well unhitch the mules, 
 Mr. Witte," said Mr. Pastor. 
 "I think so," said Conrad. 
 
 "He is half an owl anyway, as I sometimes tell 
 him. He always catches the early worm on the 
 market." 
 
 "Now, Mr. B , Mr. Witte has told me that 
 
 we ought to have your opinion about our schools. 
 He says he has heard you express dissatisfaction 
 about the manner in which our schools are con- 
 ducted." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Pastor. There is something in that and 
 
 I am glad you called my attention to it. But all I 
 want is very simple. I want no tenant on the place 
 who will not see to it that his children learn to 
 read and write the English language. Mr. Hanse- 
 Peter told me the other day that these settlements 
 reminded him of a calf, tied out in the meadow to a 
 stake. It eats up the grass in reach, and then starves 
 until it is moved by somebody to a fresh place. But 
 if I wanted to illustrate the situation, as I understand 
 it, I would say that they resemble a herd of sheep, 
 all tied together and turned out into a rich pasture. 
 The ones in front and on the two sides get fat, and 
 those in the rear and center — they starve. Now, the 
 rope that ties them together is their common ignor- 
 ance of the language of the country, of which they 
 themselves are citizens and their children natives. I 
 want that rope cut. It is not right to raise up citi- 
 zens ignorant of the language in which the laws for 
 their obedience and protection are written. They are 
 not only required to obey, but they are requined to 
 assist in making that law. That is God's will here 
 and they must obey it or suffer, nay perish. It is 
 useless for you and me to assist in giving them the 
 opportunity to make homes for themselves, if these 
 homes do not produce citizens capable of governing 
 themselves — capable of appreciating, obeying and 
 making the law of the land that protects those homes. 
 They will vanish like the tepees of the Indians, who 
 owned and occupied these beautiful lands before 
 them; and their only memorial will be the smutch 
 of their fires upon the walls of some leaning rock, as 
 it is the only memorial of their predecessors. 
 
 "What I want is simple; what else is taught (the 
 more there is taught of Luther and his spirit the 
 better) is indiflferent to me. This, however, I will 
 and must have. I owe it to these little ones and I 
 owe it to the country that has welcomed me to com- 
 fort and abundance." 
 
 "Go on, Mr. B , go on. You shall have what 
 
 you ask and my whole heart will co-operate with 
 you; but you must come with me some time soon, 
 as soon as we have everything started here. You 
 must talk to our people. You are the man to do 
 us good. Your word is act, and that our people 
 understand. What you say is their wish, but poverty 
 has had them under the thumb, and as they see a 
 chance to escape that terrible master, they are apt 
 to forget everything else — like people escaping from 
 a fire, they will trample on their own dear ones 
 to reach an escape. They will trample their own 
 souls under foot, in their eagerness to escape the 
 dreaded enemy, although there is a wide ocean 
 between them and him." 
 
 He was interrupted by the arrival of Jochen in 
 sight, and it was beautiful to see, as he swept around 
 the upper bend of the creek, the dappled gray coats 
 of his team and their powerful action, relieved 
 against the deep green of the forest, increased by 
 its own shadows. He was soon informed of the 
 arrangements for to-morrow and they met his hearty 
 approval. 
 
io8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Narren tant, man! Ask your pardon, Mr. Pastor, 
 but I had a nice drive. What did you do, Mr. 
 
 B , to that man, the clerk in M ? He 
 
 talks of you like you were the President of the United 
 States." 
 
 "I did nothing to him, Jochen, but he is a man of 
 sense; he is an American politician, who sees votes 
 around here that he will want when election time 
 comes. He has always relied upon Mr. Pastor here 
 to get them for him, and he is not certain but that 
 I may have to be consulted in the future. I was 
 talking about that when you came up, Jochen. If 
 we know the duties of these people, they are the 
 best of servants and our government is a blessing to 
 all; but if we don't know these duties, they are like 
 other men — they will attend to their own business 
 and interests and let the public affairs and interests 
 attend to themselves. Did you bring my deed?" 
 
 "Yes, here it is. See how he has done it up!" 
 
 "Of course, he knows his business." 
 
 "I wanted to pay him his fee, as you told me, but 
 he refused to take it. He said that he felt so glad 
 that you broke into Jericho that he would not charge 
 a cent for recording all the deeds that you might 
 get." 
 
 "Did you ask him how much land he owns over 
 the rise yonder?" 
 
 "No. Does he own any?" 
 
 "I don't know, but it looks that way to me." 
 
 Mr. Pastor now thought it was time for him to 
 start for home. 
 
 "The night air is getting heavy," said he, "and I 
 have a sore throat. But this business has relieved 
 me so much that I have sent word up to the settle- 
 ment that we will have a business meeting of the 
 church to-morrow. I will go ahead with the people, 
 
 Mr. B . You come as soon as you can and 
 
 bring the papers with you. But if anything occurs to 
 me that needs immediate attention, I will see you to- 
 morrow, at the foot of that bluflf, before you leave 
 for the city. I should like to know about that road." 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. Pastor, you will please say noth- 
 ing about that until you hear from me further. It is 
 only known to us four, and I did not see how to 
 keep it from you, or you would not have known any- 
 thing about my Intentions until they were realized — I 
 rely upon you all to keep this matter to ourselves." 
 
 The minister left for home, Conrad and Jochen at- 
 tended to their teams and I started to walk to the 
 bluflf, but found that the grass was already attracting 
 moisture from the air and so contented myself with 
 fixing my gun. While at this I remembered that the 
 change in our plans would be fatal to my game, un- 
 less I could use it at once, as the weather is still too 
 warm for the meat to keep over twenty-four hours. 
 I therefore selected my old squirrels out of the lot, 
 asked Mrs. Luebke to prepare the others for supper 
 'and breakfast and started to convert the former into 
 bouillon, as I could secure that in Jochen's coflfee jug. 
 Mrs. Luebke, however, insisted upon attending tot < 
 that, too, and after directing her what to do, I left) 
 
 and strolled over the plowed land until supper was 
 called. 
 
 "To plow the poorest furrow of land, Mr. B , 
 
 costs you and your team as many steps as to plow 
 a furrow of the richest land. The cost of fencing is 
 the same for both, the attention and tilling of the 
 crop are the same — the difference is in harvesting. 
 Then you have more to do, more work— for you 
 gather twice and three times as much from your 
 rich as from your poor soil. You ask Witte there, 
 he knows. Hanse-Peter knows nothing about it. He 
 farms on a bacon side. He knows nothing about 
 poor land, but we can't all of us have such land," said 
 the "Olle Kulle" at the supper table, when Jochen had 
 been twitting them about their lands. 
 
 "Yes," said Conrad, "good land is a good thing 
 and then even, all alike — like this that we have broke 
 There is no waste work in 'tending land like that 
 It is like chopping with an ax that is sharp, with : 
 keen and smooth edge, not a nick in it." 
 
 "No, nor a rock within five miles to make a nick,' 
 said Jochen. "Henry, where are you going to gel 
 rock for your chimneys?" 
 
 "Right here, Jochen, within three hundred yards 
 of Mr. Luebke's house." 
 
 "Not within twenty-five feet of the top of the 
 ground!" retorted Jochen. 
 
 "Yes, within sight. But not quite in the prairie 
 it is in the bottom of the creek, the only place yov 
 could expect to find it. In a week, if it doesn't rain 
 they can get all the rock they want and not wet J 
 foot." 
 
 "What is it then that you want and have not go( 
 ready made to your hand?" 
 
 "Well, we might be able to use a couple of bricl 
 kilns, ready burned, in a year or two from now 
 Jochen. If you should run across any of them yon 
 mark the spot so that we can find them again." 
 
 "I haven't found the brick kilns ready burned, bul 
 I have found the clay to make the brick out of, and 
 I have marked the place, too," Jochen retorted. 
 
 We broke up early, however, to get a good night'^s 
 rest. Next morning we met daybreak on the prairie 
 as is customary with these people, and by the time 
 we could fairly see, we stopped at the half mile 
 stone, in the western line of the land that is broken 
 up. From here we drove up to the edge of the bluflf, 
 due west, looking for the corresponding line, but 
 failed to locate it, as we did not want to lose too 
 much time and only aimed to get a general outline 
 of the situation. We returned to the former line and 
 traced it to Mr. Pheyety's inclosure. Here we found 
 the corner, and with this located upon the county 
 map, a blank sectionalized aflfair, but suflficient for our 
 purpose, I followed the section line to the bluflf and 
 located the road that we followed through the bot- 
 tom, as near as the nature of the ground would per- 
 mit us. Before we started down the bluflf, I located 
 definitely our point of departure, took the bearings 
 with a pocket compass, which Mr. Pastor had 
 loaned me for the purpose, as I did not have mine 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 109 
 
 with me, and we had no difficulty in reaching the 
 river bank at a point due west. Here we found a 
 steep bank, with deep water extending for over two 
 miles below and a mile and a half above our stopping 
 place. This latter distance I ascertained with cer- 
 tainty, as I located the corners of the government 
 survey. I deemed it important to do so, as it indi- 
 cated the probability of the permanence of deep 
 water. I located the point on my map and found 
 that we were within a hundred yards of the half 
 section corner. This corresponded with the point I 
 had marked on the bluff from which we had started. 
 The land is high, subject to overflow in extreme high 
 water only, and Mr. Witte suggested that it would 
 be a good idea if I entered the land in case it had 
 not as yet been entered. I answered that there was 
 a limit to all things, as I had understood, but I ex- 
 pected that this rule did not apply to a Low Dutch- 
 man's appetite for land. Conrad laughed, but Jochen 
 put in and declared that if I would not enter it they 
 would, and make me a present of it. 
 
 "Why Conrad, he needs it worse than he needs a 
 shirt to his back! Narrant tant, man! What is 
 money to that, with the land you have depending 
 upon it!" 
 
 "I tell you, boys," said I, "what we will do. We 
 will compromise the matter. I will buy the land if 
 it is not entered and you can loan me the money to 
 pay for it until I can pay you back. How will that 
 do?" 
 
 "That is all right, Henry, if Jochen there will go 
 your security. I think I can find that much money 
 among the neighbors." 
 
 "He wasn't talking to you, Conrad. You can't 
 come any of your Jew tricks on Henry. I reckon 
 Feeka has a little, and between her and me, we will 
 see that he don't fall in the hands of the uncircum- 
 cised on the bluff." And so they went on. 
 
 "Well, I am in earnest. I owe a great deal of 
 money, and although I have property for it, I do not 
 
 feel like straining good nature. Mr. F , who 
 
 has been so kind to me, helping me to recover what 
 I lost, has also given me the use of such money as I 
 may need; but I am determined not to call on him 
 any more." 
 
 "You do not need to, Henry. We have all you will 
 want; and neither Jochen nor myself know as well 
 what to do with it as you do. We have to stretch 
 ourselves in accordance with the length of our 
 blankets, and they are short; when we let a fellow 
 have money we have nothing to rely on but his good 
 will and the fear of the Pastor to get it back." 
 
 "Now he talks like a Christian, Henry, but don't 
 you trust him for all that." 
 
 "Never you mind, Jochen, I sat on Conrad's knee 
 before I sat on yours, and I reckon we will get along 
 without much hair-pulling. If the land is not entered 
 I will buy it, and if either of you have the money, 
 you have to bring it to me before 10 o'clock Monday 
 tnorning, or I will get it somewhere else. 
 
 "Now, let us go and examine the line back which 
 
 you have blazed and see how we can get across the 
 slough, where we had to turn out of our course." 
 
 After we reached the slough, I located the line of 
 the road straight across, as it is my judgment that 
 we will have to bridge anyway. 
 
 "It is best, Henry, to keep the straight line; if it 
 costs a little more at first, it will all come back in a 
 short time," said Conrad. 
 
 I also ascertained the distance to be seven miles 
 and a half from the bluff road to the river bank. I 
 drew the line of the road upon the map and then 
 extended it by following the old road up to Mr. 
 Pheyety's; from this down to the west line of my 
 first purchase, and down this to the half section 
 corner; from this, straight east to my eastern bound- 
 ary line, where it strikes the county road, that runs 
 from the county seat to the settlement. When I 
 showed this to Witte and Jochen they acted like 
 children, especially Jochen. 
 
 "Sixteen miles for the farthest and eleven for the 
 nearest! That is something to open the eyes of Mr. 
 Kulle. Bless you, how he will look and chew his 
 cud when he hears that!" exclaimed Jochen. 
 
 When we got to our wagon we were hungry. We 
 had lost more time than we supposed. We sat down 
 and ate our lunch, the young squirrels, which Mrs, 
 Luebke had prepared in excellent style and put up 
 for us. She had also sent us a large ju? of frosli 
 buttermilk, of which she had seen me drink lieartily 
 at her table. We had hardly finished when we saw 
 Mr. Pastor drive down the hill. He was happy at our 
 success and the bearer of the happiness that the an- 
 nouncement of the success of his scheme had caused 
 in the settlement. 
 
 "A hundred voices," said he, "will be lifted up to- 
 night in prayer to our loving Father to grant life, 
 health and prosperity to you, my son. May He 
 bless and preserve you for His work that you are 
 doing." 
 
 I then showed him the line of the road upon the 
 map, and told him that I would draw up the neces- 
 sary papers and send them to him; that I desired 
 
 him to hand them to Mr. M , the clerk, with the 
 
 request that they be laid before the county court, in 
 order that the legal steps might be taken to have the 
 road established. 
 
 "My dedication of five miles and a half of road, 
 which will accompany the papers, will be upon con- 
 dition that the rest of it is opened by the court." 
 
 He agreed to attend to this and to anything I 
 might suggest wherein he could be of service. 
 
 "You do so much you do not leave me anything 
 to do," he remarked. 
 
 The teams having been changed, we said "good- 
 bye" to Mr. Pastor and started for home. We had 
 not driven a hundred yards, however, when Jochen 
 stopped and waited for Conrad. As he came up 
 Jochen said: 
 
 "Henry, you better say 'good-bye' to Conrad, and 
 I want to see you a moment, Witte; I forgot some- 
 thing." 
 
no 
 
 A MECHANICS DIARY. 
 
 They both got out and a few moments later 
 Conrad shook me by the hand, Jochen returned to his 
 seat and we took a new start. We soon lost sight of 
 Conrad's ■trumpetei-s," as was to be expected. We 
 had daylight for more than five miles on this side of 
 the big spring, and in all that distance not the 
 slightest indication where the creek comes from the 
 bluff. I half suspect that it takes a subterranean 
 course and reappears as the spring itself. I cannot 
 see any other solution. I will, however, solve it 
 some time or other. 
 
 We reached the bridge over the Cahokia at 9 
 o'clock, and as I shook Jochen by the hand he said: 
 
 "About that money, Henry; I will bring it to you 
 in the morning. I talked with Conrad about it. 
 Good night, sonny; this will be the happiest evening 
 of my life." 
 
 September 4, 1856. 
 
 Mr. F called early this morning — that is 
 
 early for him — before 10 o'clock. He told me that 
 he had another letter from Mr. Pheyety, announcing 
 that he would have to move in his old age. He says 
 that "the Dutch with their teams are thicker in the 
 prairie than black-birds in the spring. They will 
 tear up the whole prairie in a month. They have 
 broke up that section, practically the whole of it. 
 They have built four houses and nobody can see 
 where it will end." 
 
 "What Mr. Pheyety says in exaggeration," I 
 answered, "will be the simple truth before many 
 weeks expire. This is the lay of the land" — I un- 
 rolled the map on which I had marked my purchase. 
 After looking at it for some time he asked: 
 
 "What is this line here," pointing to the projected 
 road. 
 
 I explained to him. 
 
 "Have you examined the river; is there water at 
 that point for a landing?" 
 
 I told him the facts. 
 
 "Henry, this is a big, a very big operation. It will 
 make you independent. But had you not better go 
 up to the land office and buy that section of land at 
 the river landing?" 
 
 "I came from there, Mr. F , a few minutes be- 
 fore you came in. I did not get the section, but I 
 have entered the half of it that fronts the river for a 
 mile up and down." 
 
 "You ought to have bought the whole. The mo- 
 ment you send the papers to the county court with 
 that map the land will be worth double and triple 
 what it is to-day." 
 
 "But, Mr. F , I cannot own the earth, in fee 
 
 simple. I must stop some where." 
 
 "That is true, Henry. And another thing; you 
 mu.st not work more than ten hours a day from this 
 on. You have no reasons for it, except that it will 
 save us some iron, and I will not permit you to 
 destroy your health on that account. My own is 
 gone and now I appreciate it." 
 
 "By the by, I brought you a jug full of medicine. 
 I forgot it last night in the wagon, but my friend 
 
 brought it to me early this morning. I wish yoi 
 would try a glass full of it right now. I think i 
 will do you good." 
 
 I poured out a glass of bouillon. He tasted it an< 
 said: 
 "That doesn't taste like medicine," and drank it out 
 
 "What is it, Henry?" 
 
 "I can't explain it to you now, but you send it u] 
 home and keep it corked perfectly tight, air tight, i 
 possible and place it in the coolest place you have 
 Then, in the morning, when you get up, instead o 
 coffee — " 
 
 "I don't touch coffee. I like it, but it is poison t( 
 me." 
 
 "You don't drink it then? So much the better- 
 but you drink of this as much as you want; cold o 
 warm, as it suits you best. But the best temperaturi 
 for you is blood heat, as they call it; that is, mill 
 warm. If you can drink it at that temperature, di 
 so. I have made arrangements for your wife; sh 
 will have young squirrels for you whenever you wan 
 them. Just try it for a week or such a matter, bu 
 don't take any medicine, or wine, or such stuf^ 
 When you want a drink try this and see how yoi 
 feel." 
 
 "I am much obliged to you, Henry. I think I wil 
 try it— that stuff tastes good and it doesn't feel bai 
 on my stomach." 
 
 He took another glass and sent the jug up to th 
 house, with the direction I had given him. 
 
 "But don't you want some money to pay for tha 
 land?" he asked. 
 
 "No, I have some friends over the river, whom 
 assisted when they were in need, and they have sup 
 plied me. I could not say 'no' without offendini 
 them." 
 
 "There was no occasion for that, because twi 
 friends are better than one and ten better than fiv« 
 if they are the right kind. Now, Henry, you mus 
 not forget to come up to-morrow night and let u 
 hear how you managed your affairs over the rivei 
 And this evening you stop work with the bell." 
 
 Saw my house and will have to make the firs 
 payment next Saturday, for the basement will b 
 completed by that time. It looks very large am 
 attracts considerable attention. Closed the lease o 
 the upper story for five years with Mr. Obermeyei 
 as Mr. Olff desired the arrangement made in tha 
 way. He pays thirty-five dollars a month, but I an 
 at some extra expense in having the light arrange( 
 from above, in the southeast corner room of th' 
 building. Got Mr. Olff to draw me a decent map o 
 my land, showing the bluff and the road to the rive 
 landing. 
 
 September S, 1856. 
 
 Had a fine time working in my room last night 
 Would have had the same to-night if I had not ha( 
 
 to take tea with Mrs. F and then stay until hal 
 
 past nine o'clock, reading my notes. There was no 
 
 body present but Mr. and Mrs. F and Mr. O 
 
 D. F , who seemed to enjoy the evening verj 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 much. Of course I skipped the scriptural quotations 
 of Mr. Hanse-Peter and also Mrs. Krome's way of 
 catching and punishing plum thieves. But I caught 
 
 myself, to the great amusement of Mrs. F , 
 
 when I read: 
 
 "Went to kiss my dear one." 
 
 "You are not married, Mr. B ?" she broke in. 
 
 "No," I answered, "but I expect to be." 
 "Who is it, tell me!" 
 
 "A lady that I love dearly, but whose parents have 
 been very unfortunate, and live in humble circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "That is nothing, so she is a worthy woman." 
 "I know she is and I love her. I will marry her 
 as soon as I see my way clear, so that I can meet the 
 responsibility that such a step involves. The un- 
 fortunate situation of her family may put it oflf a little 
 longer than I wish, but these are matters that we 
 have to meet as we find them." 
 
 "But, you must bring her up to see me; I should 
 like so much to see the lady that can make such a 
 man as you are love her. You will bring her up 
 some time to please me, won't you?" 
 
 "I shall be very happy to do so, because I should 
 like to have my own judgment confirmed, or cor- 
 rected, by your experience. I have no women rela- 
 tives that I can consult, and I think that a woman 
 can judge a woman much better than a man — at 
 least, better than I can." 
 
 "Come now, less talk and more work," said Mr. 
 
 F . And I went on with my reading. But when 
 
 step by step his own part became apparent, both he 
 and his brother became very serious, and when Mrs. 
 
 F 's own name occurred she listened with 
 
 strained attention. When I got through, she said: 
 
 "Mr. B , that sounds like a novel, only there 
 
 are not so many love quarrels in it — but if you write 
 down everything that people say or do to or for you, 
 
 we have to be on our guard. You make Mr. F 
 
 quite a hero." 
 
 "Did you not know, Mrs. F , that he is one 
 
 in fact? Is there anything in what I have read that 
 
 is not true — anything that I 'say that Mr. F 
 
 did or said that he did not do or say? If the acts 
 and thoughts of a man make him a hero, who is 
 going to unmake him, and if they don't, who is going 
 to make him one with mere words? The liar never 
 existed that could do that, Mrs. F . The at- 
 tempt to do that is the vainest of all vain follies 
 under the sun. 
 
 "I understand a hero to be a man with a creative 
 mind; one who originates in some sphere of human 
 achievement what was not; a genius who originates 
 new species that did not exist before him. It is in 
 
 this sense that I call Mr. F a hero, a hero of 
 
 industry; and I cite the records of the patent office 
 in Washington City as proof that the language is 
 correctly used. I write these notes for my own 
 use, only; and knowingly there shall not be an un- 
 truth on one of these pages. Why, what for? Why 
 should I put down untruths when I have not time 
 
 enough to put down the facts? What can I do with 
 lies? They cannot help me. But facts will." 
 
 "You are very much in the right, Mr. B ; 
 
 and as for being on our guard as to what we do or 
 say in his presence, it seems to me, sister, that 
 every human being with whom we talk, though it 
 be but our servant in the kitchen, or in the stable, 
 and every person with whom we have any business 
 transaction, they all keep note books — there memo- 
 ries — and what is more, they use indelible ink, too. 
 
 Mr. B 's note book is nothing compared to the 
 
 record that follows our words and actions in the 
 minds of our fellow men — nay in the minds of dumb 
 beasts even— I like it. I wish I had some fellow 
 with me always who would say: 'What is that, Mr. 
 
 F ? I did not catch that,' or 'What is the 
 
 nature of that transaction, I do not wish to do you 
 injustice in the record?' It would teach me how to 
 respect myself and not blotch up my own note book, 
 which has been given me, I suppose, for this pur- 
 pose, like a heedless school boy," said Mr. O. D. 
 F . 
 
 "But, there is one thing I am very much surprised 
 
 at, Mr. B , and that is, the bitter words you 
 
 use when you speak of the colored people in the 
 South. How does that happen? All your country- 
 men are opposed to slavery, and from your language 
 about them it sounds as if you thought that slavery 
 is good enough for them, if not too good." 
 
 "I hate idleness and waste. It is the only thing 
 that I do hate. Such things as stealing, in its dif- 
 ferent forms, of lying, swindling, robbing, and the 
 like, they are at least entertaining. They amuse 
 me — just as I never can look at the silly action of 
 a chicken that has a string tied around its neck, try- 
 ing to get its head out of the noose by running 
 backwards, without laughing. The thing is so ex- 
 tremely comical to me that a human being should 
 make exertions so little calculated to accomplish 
 the purpose he has in view. They remind me of a 
 cage of squirrels that I saw at a friend's house. It 
 contained a fine collection of all the varieties that 
 are to be found in our country. There was our 
 gray squirrel, our fox squirrel, the black squirrel, 
 the California squirrel, and a pure white albino — 
 all in the same cage. The latter was quite roomy 
 and it was highly entertaining to give one of the 
 inmates a nut. Instantly there was a scamper, a 
 tussle, red, white, black, gray — all mixed up in a 
 knot, so that nobody could tell what tail belonged 
 to what head— with scratching, biting, squealing, 
 growling, grunting until the fuss quieted down, 
 when you saw the fellow with the nut quietly 
 crouching in one corner of the cage, with his nose 
 stuck out between the corner wire and the wire next 
 to the corner, holding his nut out beyond the reach 
 of all comers. When everybody had retired, and he 
 was assured that the field was clear, then and not 
 until then he withdrew his nose, looked over the 
 cage, and with an eye on the alert, to see that he 
 was not observed, deposited his treasure in some 
 
112 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 place deemed secure. This done, he too retired to 
 his burrow, with confidence that his hoard was safe 
 from depredation. But no sooner was the cage still 
 than out jumped a competitor from his nest; and 
 without any searching here or there, makes straight 
 for the hidden nut. The owner and depositor of 
 it has been over-reached, was lulled into false security 
 and his treasure is gone — but not without a struggle. 
 This arouses the community and everybody is in 
 for a chance and the play starts anew. I have 
 watched the same nut, the property of every occu- 
 pant of the cage in turn, first of one and then of 
 another, and while still it remained only the one nut, 
 and all this fuss did not add one atom to the nutri- 
 ment, the nourishment on hand for the community, 
 the strife was entertaining at least, as I said at the 
 start But your idleness — who could bear watching 
 a sloth for an hour! It is a pure, unadulterated 
 abomination, and only less abominable than its twin 
 brother, waste." 
 
 "He will get oflf on some side question if you 
 
 don't watch him, brother," said Mr. F . "What 
 
 has all that to do with the harsh language which 
 you use when you speak of the colored people." 
 
 "Nothing but this, Mr. F : That, as I hate 
 
 idleness and waste, I cannot love the men who make 
 them the specialty of their lives — I hate them, too. 
 I am the descendant of a race of men, and so are 
 you, who have wrought out the sovereignty of the 
 earth which they enjoy not by idleness and waste, 
 but by hitting nature square between the eyes with 
 bare knuckles, compelling her to yield up her power. 
 That race was not the special pet of some pitiful 
 despot, called a god, who played hide and seek with a 
 prophet in a burning bush and the like. The creator 
 of this universe is the mighty God. He has no 
 pets, no favorite race or people. Alike the sun arises 
 with its vivifying power for the white, the red and 
 the black. Alike for all the rain descends with 
 fructifying power. Alike for all the earth spreads its 
 plains and rolls them into mountains, hills and vales. 
 
 " 'Tis pitiful to see the infant clad in innocence 
 and helplessness drown in the merciless flood! 'Tis 
 pitiful to see the young maiden, glowing with the 
 first blush of womanhood, perish in the flames of 
 some raging conflagration, her shrieks of agony 
 drowned by its horrible roar! But the water cannot 
 fructify without drowning; the fire cannot vivify 
 without burning. Oh man! See to it that they are 
 thy obedient servants, or they will be thy consuming 
 fate! Is this not true of all alike? Is it not as far 
 from England, Holland, France, Germany, Sweden, 
 Denmark, Norway, European Russia, Italy, Spain, 
 Portugal and the United States of America up to the 
 empyrean as it is from Asia, Africa, China, Japan 
 and the islands of the sea? Is not the sky as high 
 above the one as it is above the other? What 
 hinders then their growth to equal stature? Sloth 
 and bestial waste! 
 
 "A few years ago the land, about which I read to- 
 tiight, was the home of the red man. What dispos- 
 
 sessed him? This very spot was his meadow. He 
 tilled it with the torch. Annually he swept its spon- 
 taneous, abundant harvest into waste, that he might 
 corral the animals that fed upon that harvest into 
 narrower limits, where they were at his mercy. He 
 owned not this little tract, but as far as the eye 
 could reach, for he needed large areas to sustain his 
 dignity as the first of brutes — was their master, 
 who by the wave of his hand swept their homes with 
 the besom of destruction and claimed and maintained 
 lordship over all. What right had he to their homes? 
 The wave of his hand, armed with that torch. 
 
 "To-day that patch, much too small to sustain one 
 such lordship, is, or will be in less then a month, the 
 home of abundance for two hundred human beings; 
 and in ten years hence, of a thousand; they, armed 
 with industry, economy and a will imbued with 
 rational principles of conduct; he, armed with a 
 torch, waste and a will given to caprice and idleness. 
 To whom does that land belong by the records in the 
 office of the recorder of the universe — to the one or 
 to the one thousand? To whom does it belong? To 
 sloth, waste and bestial lordship, or to industry, 
 frugality and human control? If to the former, let 
 him maintain his title. So reads the record. Water 
 must drown; fire must burn. Industry, frugality 
 and justice must be, for they are of the abiding. 
 Idleness, waste and bestial lordship are not of the 
 abiding — are not divine! 
 
 "Weep by the side of the stream that bears away 
 the engulfed infant! Curse if you will at the roar 
 of the conflagration that snatches the beautiful 
 bride from the arms of the lover! But the flood 
 heeds not your tears, and the conflagration's roar 
 drowns your puny voice. Your curse is idle, and 
 idle are your tears. Thought, intelligence, earnest, 
 sincere thought alone can help you." 
 
 "You see he is running oflf again. We are not 
 speaking of the Indian. We are speaking of the 
 colored people." 
 
 "Yes, something lower, far lower than the red 
 lordship over beasts. This, at least, did not eat 
 itself — only waited in idleness, drifted along, until 
 the stream swept it as cumberers off the earth. But 
 the other, in its native habitat, has not even arrived 
 at the point to recognize itself. It can't distinguish 
 between itself and anything else good to eat. It 
 simply devours what comes. Its public diversion, 
 a public slaughter! Kill a few hundred. The crowd 
 must be entertained! 
 
 "And this, the lowest form of animated nature, tied 
 to the neck of the latest born of time — the brightest, 
 the most hopeful of all the peoples of the earth! In 
 the very act of taking possession of the arena of its 
 future achievements, its loins girded for the contest 
 as no other; drawing the sinew and bone, the 
 honesty, the courage, the loyalty to fact and truth 
 from all the nations of the earth, it is chained to a 
 corpse!" 
 
 "But can we not break that chain? Are we not 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 113 
 
 strong enough for that, Mr. B ," asked Mr. O. 
 
 D. F . 
 
 "No, we cannot and remain the same people. That 
 chain will be broken. No danger of that! But the 
 cost of breaking it fills me with apprehension for 
 my country. 
 
 "It is difficult for man to appreciate anything 
 without contrast. We can not even see an object a 
 short distance removed from our eyes unless it has 
 a back-ground of a different color. It is so with 
 objects that we can only realize through thought — 
 such as political institutions. And it is this inherent 
 characteristic of our mental organization which ex- 
 plains to me the indifference, the apathy, the mat- 
 ter of course manner and spirit with which the 
 citizens, born in this country, regard and accept the 
 blessings that flow from their form of government. 
 But to me these blessings are not a matter of course. 
 They do not fall from heaven like the rain and the 
 sunshine from the sky. They are the result of a 
 spirit in the breasts of the citizens back of these 
 institutions that values justice above all price. It 
 is this spirit that renders the institutions possible, 
 that gives them the breath of life. Without it they 
 are dead forms, nay worse! From the best they 
 become the worst ever devised by man. From in- 
 strumentalities that render justice, with its train of 
 blessings, possible to man, they become instrumen- 
 talities for graft and greed to ensnare, oppress and 
 curse the citizen. 
 
 "It is this spirit that is in danger. It is already 
 excluded even from the consideration of the ques- 
 tion. It is no longer 'What is just to all?' but 
 'What is advantageous to our party?' The logical 
 answer to this question is 'Kill the other.' And kill 
 it will be — but not this party or that party, but 
 the spirit that gives our institutions their value. And 
 this for and on behalf of a people that could not 
 exist under the conditions under which millions and 
 millions of our own race have to — and do exist — for 
 a month, nay not for a week. Their idle, lazy, bestial 
 besottedness would land them in the toils of starva- 
 tion and sweep them from the face of the earth! 
 
 "Gentlemen, I do not like that; and this danger 
 that ought to be patent to all, this menace to what 
 I regard as the highest, the holiest interest of a peo- 
 ple, this danger, which has its roots in the worthless- 
 ness of the black race makes me hate them. Pardon 
 my frankness, gentlemen, but I cannot help it." 
 
 The conversation then turned on political sub- 
 jects, from which I endeavor to keep aloof, so far as 
 the party strife of the day is concerned, when finally 
 Mrs. F asked me: 
 
 "Couldn't you use initials instead of the names of 
 persons in your notes? It seems to me that if your 
 papers should fall into the hands of some bad man 
 and he should make them public, it would be dis- 
 agreeable for your friends and for yourself, too. I 
 mean instead of saying 'Mr. Stock' you might say 
 
 'Mr. S ,' and so through the list, and then for 
 
 dates and localities, where they cut no important 
 
 figure in the events themselves you might disguise 
 them, too. You would know what they mean, and 
 nobody else could use your notes to hurt or injure 
 you — if they should happen to get out of your 
 hands." 
 
 I promised to consider the matter and let her 
 know. 
 
 "Now tell me," she asked, "who is that man 
 Jochen, or what is his name, that you mentioned so 
 often?" 
 
 "You mean Mr. Jochen Hanse-Peterr' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He is the gentleman who brought you up the 
 game when we returned from our trip." 
 
 "No! Why he looks so common. He can't talk 
 that way, can he?" 
 
 "Yes, and a great deal better, if we could only 
 understand him in his own language." 
 
 I then explained to her that many of the awkward 
 expressions in the text resulted from the endeavor 
 of the translator to reproduce the effect of the origi- 
 nal, the old Saxon, in which Mr. Hanse-Peter usually 
 speaks, as his mother tongue. 
 
 "And that is Mr. Hanse-Peter? By the by, Mr. 
 
 F has drunk up nearly all his medicine. He 
 
 would have been through with it before this evening 
 if I had let him." 
 
 "Oh yes. But I think I have had help, Henry. It 
 is good and I feel like I could drink all I want; it 
 doesn't hurt me; it doesn't affect my stomach like the 
 slops they send me from the apothecary shops." 
 
 "All right, Mr. F . I think it will straighten 
 
 you up. Only be careful and keep it well stopped 
 so that the air can't get to it, and if it has the least 
 sour taste throw it away. You will have a fresh 
 jug full to-morrow morning. Drink what you want 
 of it and never mind Mrs. F ." 
 
 Mr. O. D. F now asked me how far it was 
 
 from my land to Mr. Pheyety's house. I told him 
 and then unrolled the map Mr. Olff had made me, 
 which showed the river in the foreground, then the 
 bluff so shaded that it lifts the eye up on to the 
 plateau, and then the rectangle of prairie bounded 
 on two sides, the west and the north, by forests. He 
 has also laid down the road and shaded the sections 
 that are mine with a light green, just enough to 
 reveal the lines definitely to the eye. Mr. O. D. 
 F said: 
 
 "I remember it now. I was up there once with 
 Mr. Pheyety and remember the way that the woods 
 cut off the two sides of the prairie, as you look 
 north and west from his house. You have done a 
 
 good work, Mr. B , and nothing but good \vt!l 
 
 come of it. The act that we do to a fellow man 
 that is not of mutual benefit is an injury to both. 
 If you had been able and given this land to these 
 people as an alms, as a free gift, it would have 
 puffed you up with moral conceit, and they would 
 not have known how to manage it. We only own 
 what we earn at last. As it is, they will make a 
 competence, a home, for themselves and you will be 
 
114 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 independent, too. You know that they are worthy 
 of your confidence, and then it is that we can help 
 a man and benefit ourselves at the same time. I 
 think this is the way that you look at things, too; 
 and I hope that now, when both of you, brother 
 and yourself, have no longer any excuse why you 
 should not come around and spend an hour now 
 and then I will see you in my shop some time. 
 You know I am getting old and don't go out much, 
 but I like to see men like you and talk with them." 
 
 I thanked and promised him to call around often. 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. F , "and you know what 
 
 you promised me. You come and bring your lady 
 with you Thursday evening. Come and take tea 
 with us. There will be nobody here but sister and 
 myself," and so I bade her "good night." 
 
 September 6, 1856. 
 Finished noting down my last night's experience, 
 but am still behind with a part of my last trip. 
 
 September 7, 1856. 
 
 Took tea again with Mrs. F , with Elizabeth, 
 
 to whom I explained, beforehand, why we were in- 
 vited. 
 
 "I am glad, Henry, she has invited us. I do not 
 want you to feel embarrassed on my account after 
 we are married and you have to meet these rich 
 people. I know there is not as much difference be- 
 tween them and other folks as is usually supposed, 
 because at my aunt's, in New York, I have met them 
 frequently when I was but a girl. I saw no differ- 
 ence between them and my mother and grandmother 
 before my mother met with her misfortune. The 
 only difference is they have more time to study how 
 to meet people with a pleasant manner, with a 
 pleasant outside, no matter how they feel within. I 
 don't think there is such a world of excellence in 
 that. All the people that I like like me, and those. 
 I don't like I avoid." 
 
 "I know it, dearest; that is your manner; and any- 
 body will know it before he is many days with you. 
 And I love you for it." 
 
 I was amused at the impression which Miss Eliza- 
 beth made upon the two ladies — Mrs. F and 
 
 her sister — the latter a maiden, somewhat ad- 
 vanced in years. Of course they sought to conceal 
 it, but a person of even my appreciation in such 
 matters could not avoid noting that the very first 
 glance disarmed all criticism. She had plain sailing 
 after that, and before tea was half over a look from 
 
 Mrs. F said: "Mr. B , you have made 
 
 no mistake. This is a worthy woman," so plainly that 
 when she said so to me an hour afterward in the 
 outer parlor, where she had taken me under some 
 pretence, for that purpose, I told her: "Yes, that is 
 what you said at the table." 
 
 "You conceited fellow. You're all alike. You all 
 think you can read a woman's thoughts by looking 
 at her nose. But you're mightily fooled some times, 
 I can tell youl" 
 
 "Mrs. F- 
 
 -, I have never received an unexpected 
 answer from a true woman in my life, and I have 
 always been proud of the fact; for I knew from 
 that fact that I had not wronged her or her sisters 
 in thought, word or deed." 
 
 "That is a great word to say, Mr. B . But 
 
 any true man ought to be able to say it with the 
 same emphasis that you do — an emphasis that car- 
 ries conviction with it. It is this belief with which 
 you inspired me the first time I met you that has 
 interested me in you, and that led me to request 
 you to bring the lady up here, and not mere idle 
 curiosity. You love the lady and your true heart 
 has found a true heart for you. You will find a 
 world of happiness in each other's daily society. I 
 hope and pray that it may last to a good, ripe old 
 age. But don't defer your marriage. Two people 
 like you have nothing to fear. You're not alone in 
 the world." 
 
 I thanked her from the bottom of my heart. Be- 
 fore we left Mr. F too expressed his approval 
 
 of my choice and said: 
 
 "Henry, don't waste your time in idle dreams. 
 You have found a good woman; be thankful and 
 marry at once. The rest will take care of itself." 
 
 In going home, I kissed my dear one and told 
 her what had transpired. 
 
 "That is as it should be, Henry. When you told 
 me that you loved me, and that I must become your 
 wife, you were poor like myself. You are rich now 
 and— " 
 
 Her voice began to quiver, so I interrupted her — 
 
 "And you will not have me for your husband? Is 
 that it, Eliza?" 
 
 I kissed the tears from her eyes and we were 
 happy as only love — honest, true, virtuous love — can 
 make two mortal beings. 
 
 September 8, 1856. 
 
 Still behind. It seems I will never catch up. Spent 
 an hour to-day with Mr. O. D. F- 
 
 in his office 
 
 shop. While there a young man came in and in- 
 quired of Mr. O. D. F the price of block tin. 
 
 Mr. F told him and asked in return what he 
 
 wanted the tin for. 
 
 "To make cans" (I did not catcli the kind 
 
 of cans) was the answer. 
 
 "You cannot make them," said Mr. O. D. F 
 
 "You have not got the tools." 
 
 "But we do make them and make a profit on them.'' 
 
 "But you cannot" — reiterated Mr. F . 
 
 "You see, Mr. O. D., we have a man who makes 
 three dozen a day. We pay him twelve dollars a 
 week and that leaves us a profit." 
 
 "Yes, but you must pay that man eighteen dollars 
 a week; that is what he earns," insisted Mr. O. D 
 F . 
 
 "Well, he has not asked for more pay." 
 
 "But you must not wait until he asks it. That is 
 for you to know. That is why you are boss. He 
 cannot know the changes in the market. That is 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 iif 
 
 for you to watch. You spoil the best men in the 
 world that way." 
 
 After the man had retired, Mr. O. D. F 
 
 remarked, shaking his head; 
 
 "That is the way the people are ruined; lose the 
 confidence which every journeyman ought to have 
 in his boss, that he is looking out for their com- 
 mon interest; and then the employer complains that 
 he does not enjoy the confidence of the employes! 
 The trouble is that the capable and honest employers 
 will have to suffer with the incapable and the 
 scoundrels. Now this young man, who learned his 
 trade in my shop, ought to know better! But as 
 soon as they can make a tin cup or can, they think 
 they know the business, and away they go — half 
 instructed, and become wholly bad, for the want of 
 a full knowledge of the business they commence 
 to meddle with." 
 
 September 9, 1856. 
 
 Have caught up with my work and can enjoy the 
 Sabbath to-morrow with a clean conscience. I paid 
 my builder the first payment on the house to-day, 
 as they commenced the brick work. Finished one 
 of the patterns of the urn and showed it to Mr. 
 F and Mr, W . It met their entire ap- 
 proval. Received another cast from Mr. Olff and 
 molded it on the floor in the new shop, which Mr. 
 
 W has had fenced off from the rest, so that 
 
 the molders poked fun at me as being stuck up. "The 
 common shop is no longer good enough for him" — 
 and the like. But it was in good nature. All the 
 leading men, who are running the most important 
 patterns, are my warm friends, as they too receive a 
 part of the benefit of my labors, in the improved run- 
 ning qualities of the patterns. 
 
 Fritz, too, since the shop has started up has noised 
 it abroad that I have become rich again, that he 
 will be one of my tenants; that I own ever so much 
 property in the city and nobody knows how much 
 
 out in the country, as Mr. W reports. But, of 
 
 course, Mr. W "knows better. A very likely 
 
 story, and the man hard at work as ever!" 
 
 September 10, 1856. 
 
 Enjoyed a quiet day. Dined with Elizabeth and 
 had a talk with her father about our future inten- 
 tions. 
 
 "In God's name, Henry, marry my daughter, but 
 when you do you take my all from me. I cannot say 
 'no.' I cannot stand between her and you. But you 
 do not know what it is that I lose!" 
 
 "Never mind about that, Mr. Robertson. Perhaps 
 our home will be large enough for you, too. It is 
 the balance of the family that we have to consider." 
 
 "If I could tell you all, Henry, but I can't. It is 
 ■impossible. My way out is the grave. My only 
 way." 
 
 "No, it is not. We will see how we can shape 
 things." 
 
 He wept like a child. But his health is gone. His 
 will is gone. His manhood is gone! 
 
 When I got home, about 2 o'clock, I was sur- 
 prised to find a horse hitched in front of the house, 
 below, and Mr. Witte waiting for me. When we 
 got to my room, he said: 
 
 "Henry, I wanted to see you. I have felt restless 
 ever since last Sunday when we parted. I did not 
 know but what you might have misunderstood me 
 when I was joking about that money. You know it is 
 •not my way. But Jochen is enough to make anybody 
 lose his head. And I came to see you so that you 
 might not misunderstand me. I have some money 
 and it will be an accommodation to me to let you 
 have it. But you do not need it; if you want to sell 
 some of the property out yonder. Mr. Kulle came 
 over last Wednesday expressly to see me about it 
 and wanted me to see you for him. But I told 
 him that it was no use; that I heard you promise 
 Mr. Pastor that he should have the land to settle 
 such people on as he might select; and that I knew 
 you would not go back on your word. But I wanted 
 to tell you that if you wanted more money than what 
 I have you need not to worry, because I could go 
 down to Mr. Pastor and make it all right with him; 
 and Kulle would pay you a good price for the eastern 
 section." 
 
 "How much money could you spare me if I should 
 come in need of some?" 
 
 "I think I have some nineteen hundred dollars 
 together just now, that you are welcome to use as 
 long as you want. But by Christmas I could let 
 you have more." 
 
 "How much more, Conrad?" 
 
 "In the neighborhood of twenty-five hundred dol- 
 lars, I reckon." 
 
 "I am very glad, Conrad, you came to see me. But 
 you need not to be afraid that any unusual or casual 
 word from you will ever disturb my opinion of you, 
 or the love and respect which I have always enter- 
 tained for you. We have lived under the same roof 
 for so many years that I would as soon take offense 
 at my own father, were he alive to-day, or think he 
 intended to treat me with unkindness, as to believe 
 that Conrad Witte could do so. No, no, Conrad! 
 I have grown up to be a man not only in years, 
 but in the knowledge of men and things also. Noth- 
 ing that you can say or do, unless you come to me 
 as now, and say that you no longer trust me, will 
 ever convince me that I have lost your friendship 
 and respect." 
 
 "That is all right, Henry. And it makes me feel 
 all right again. I did not think you would mis- 
 understand me, but somehow I couldn't feel right 
 about it until I saw you." 
 
 "Now as to the money, Conrad, I have no use for 
 any now; the man for whom I work — " 
 
 "You still keep on working, Henry, and still live 
 in this room! You ought not to do that!" he in- 
 terrupted. 
 
 "I was going to say that the man for whom I 
 work has given me the use of the money that I need, 
 and he has made his arrangements for it. I never 
 
ii6 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 thought of you and Jochen having accumulated as 
 much as you have, or I would have come to you. 
 Now, as to my working 'now' as I have done 
 heretofore, I feel that I cannot quit all at once and 
 leave the work of the man that has befriended me 
 and put me on my legs again undone. It would not 
 be right and then if I want to hold all the property 
 that I have, the bulk of which is unproductive, 
 that is, brings in nothing, I have to work. I have 
 a great deal of property, but I can't eat it, and if 
 I want to keep it I can't sell it, so as to get some- 
 thing to eat. Then, Conrad, I am young. The work 
 I am doing now is play by the side of what you 
 do, and you are getting old. 
 
 "If the country keeps quiet, if we do not get into 
 trouble about that worthless creature, the negro, I 
 will get through with my work in three years. I 
 will be out of debt and will have all the property 
 that a reasonable man can want to be burdened with. 
 But if we get into trouble before that time, and I 
 think there is danger, I will go to mj' farm, dive 
 under, like a duck when a hawk or eagle makes a 
 swoop at it, and wait for a sky clear of danger 
 before I come to the surface again. I have taken 
 the risk of being caught out of doors, I mean in 
 debt, in case trouble comes in the next three years. 
 But I have done so under the impression that I can 
 foretell the storm, and the likelihood of its coming 
 over, as well as some, and that I will be able to 
 reach shelter sooner than many. But now you must 
 eat a bite with me and then we will go and see 
 my new house." 
 
 To this Conrad agreed. 
 
 When we came to the new building and he saw the 
 foundation, the area wall and the strong eighteen- 
 inch brick walls, about a foot high, he could not 
 comprehend what in the world I wanted with such 
 a house. But after I explained things to him he 
 said: 
 
 "Yes, yes, Henry. It has always been my belief, 
 and I know it, that a man with a good head is better 
 off than one with a good purse. I always loved you 
 because you could see through a thing when 1 was 
 beating around on the outside, and your brothers 
 didn't come within a mile of it. And that will be 
 your house 1" 
 
 "One of them, Conrad. But you see I have three 
 more such corners that I will have to put houses 
 upon, and this one requires four more houses like 
 this before it is full." 
 
 "Well, Henry, you have your hands full to do 
 that.. But if it can be done by man, you can do it. 
 That I know." 
 
 I then explained to him that it was very simple; 
 that I would let one build the other, and the two 
 together the third, and the three the fourth — 
 
 "And so on to the last one," he interrupted. 
 
 "Yes, that is the way; that is the way; that's the 
 way we buy land. The first forty pays for the next, 
 and the eighty for the eighty, and the one hundred 
 and sixty for the next piece in sight. Like a stone 
 
 rolling down hill; the farther down it gets the 
 faster it goes. But you have to start it first, and that 
 is sometimes hard." 
 
 "I thought you were going to say, Conrad, like 
 the ball of snow that you rolled for me to the brow 
 of Heath Hill, one thawy spring morning, and made 
 me start down; the farther it got the faster it went 
 and the bigger it grew." 
 
 "Yes, yes, and you remember that yet? I would 
 have never thought of it again if you hadn't men- 
 tioned it. Yes, I had carried you up the hill on my 
 back, the snow was so deep, and you walked down 
 in the path the snow-ball made, after you got through 
 with your play. Now, Henry, I must go. I will 
 stay here talking with you all day, and then I will 
 have to ride in the night." 
 
 "Before you go, tell me, when will you have 
 service at your church the next time?" 
 
 "To-day a week, and I hope you will come up. I 
 would send a team for you, but I reckon Jochen 
 would not like that — I reckon I better not. What 
 do you think?" 
 
 "No, Conrad, that will never do. You know how 
 he is. He claims special charge of me, and I would 
 not hurt his feelings for anything." 
 
 "You must not, Henry, because he means well if 
 he is a little wild sometimes. You know we all have 
 our failings. Well, good-bye." 
 
 And so we parted. 
 
 September ii, 1856. 
 
 I have written out one of the new leases and 
 wanted to get a man to copy them for me, but Mr. 
 
 F suggested to have them printed. I have 
 
 inquired and find that it will be cheaper. Have 
 ordered fifty copies struck off. 
 
 Mr. F is highly elated with his diet. He is 
 
 really better — 'picking up,' as they say. Jochen 
 supplies him regularly with all the young squirrels 
 he wants. They are killed by some French boys, 
 over in the bottom, in the evening. Jochen cleans 
 them at once, wraps them in a napkin, wrung out of 
 salt water, and puts them in the basket, well packed 
 in sweet, dry hay. Every two days he brings me a 
 gallon of bouillon, made by Feeka, out of the old 
 squirrels, which naturally come in the lot. Mr. 
 
 F does not know as yet what he is drinking, 
 
 or he might want to climb trees sure enough — as 
 he said the other day to his brother. 
 
 "Henry, there, has taught my wife to feed me on 
 squirrels, until I feel like I want to climb every 
 tree that I pass!" 
 
 He surprised me to-day with the design of a coal 
 burning cook stove, and told me to look it over and 
 tell him what I thought of it. The sketch is very 
 rough and I asked him whether I had not better 
 have it put into clear outline by Mr. Olff; it would 
 facilitate the farther work with it. 
 
 •By all means, Henry. I had not thought of him, 
 and did not care of exposing my idea to the other 
 fellows before I have it secured by patent. They 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 117 
 
 are growling because I get you to overhaul their 
 work. But I hope we will manage to become less 
 dependent on them in the future." 
 
 September 12, 1856. 
 
 Woke up this morning with a remarkable dream, 
 standing before my mind as clear as reality itself. 
 Something started my mind on the 'nigger' discus- 
 sion of a week ago, and then a confusion of shapes 
 and pictures succeeded, until I thought all was over. 
 There was no more slavery in the country. I was 
 sitting in my easy chair and was looking over the 
 morning papers, when I came across an editorial, 
 which has printed itself on my mind as if I held the 
 paper before my eyes this moment. It read as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "Our readers will miss in to-day's issue the usual 
 report of the legislative proceedings — not because 
 we did not receive our customary photographic 
 duplicate of the transactions of the two houses, but 
 because we deemed them altogether too trifling 
 to merit the space they would occupy in our valuable 
 paper. If the General Assembly can aflford to waste 
 the people's time in discussing such antiquated fos- 
 sils, imported centuries ago from the lumber garrets 
 of superstition, we must say, most distinctly, that 
 we can not afJord either the space to print or the 
 time of our readers to peruse such discussions. What 
 do we, or the people at large, care whether the 
 monosyllable 'NOT' is in the old saying, 'Thou shalt 
 
 not steal,' that the honorable Mr should bring 
 
 in a special act to strike it out; and a committee of 
 the house should dignify it with a report; nay, that the 
 whole house should consider it in open session, with 
 serious discussions, pro and con, with roll-calls and 
 all the grimaces of actual legislative work. Come, 
 come, gentlemen; this is below contempt. These 
 superstitions are dead. They harm no one. 
 Whether this fossil consists of three or four mono- 
 syllables does not concern us in this enlightened 
 day — has not even an archaeological interest, as it 
 was not found in our soil.' " 
 
 This strange language interested me. I looked at 
 the head of the paper and found in large display 
 letters— "PAN-ANARCHIC BANNER"— "Daily cir- 
 culation 5,789,643 and a half copies, to actual sub- 
 scribers. Sales at balloon stations not counted." 
 
 This of course brought me to my senses — that is, 
 I discovered that I was dreaming. 
 
 September 13, 1856. 
 Had an unpleasant experience to-day. I went up 
 this evening, about the close of business hours, to 
 see the effect of the stock brick, and of the distribu- 
 tion of the windows, especially on the eastern front, 
 or the side of the house. While there, talkinp; with 
 the builder, Mr. L came by in his open car- 
 riage, and when he recognized me, directed the 
 driver to stop. He nodded to Mr. Stock and myself 
 and, as his manner indicated that he desired to say 
 something further, we walked up to him. He looked 
 
 as though he was not well, or out of humor, and broke 
 out in an ill-natured tone of voice, with: 
 
 "I understand, Mr. B , that you found out 
 
 what to do with the land which I was generous 
 enough to give you for your worthless paper, in a 
 remarkably short time, after you bought all that I 
 owned in the neighborhood for a mere song!" 
 
 "And so prevented you, as forestaller, from spong- 
 ing up other people's labor for nothing. Is that what 
 
 you mean, Mr. L ?" 
 
 "I mean that when I asked you the other day 
 what you intended to do with that land you pre- 
 tended to be very ignorant, very innocent — when, in 
 fact, you had all your arrangements made to gobble 
 up the whole tract." 
 
 "When you asked me what I intended to do with 
 my own, I stated to you that I was not prepared to 
 say. If you understood that language to mean that 
 I did not know what I intended to do with it, you 
 made a mistake in understanding, not I in stating 
 what I intended to say. I don't owe you, or any 
 other living mortal an account of my business. That 
 was all I told you in answer to your impertinent 
 question — in as polite language as I have been taught 
 to use. 
 
 "Now, another mistake you made, Mr. L , 
 
 and that is, in talking about my 'worthless paper' and 
 your 'generosity.' When did you or any other man 
 see any of my paper that is or was worthless?" 
 
 "Was not the paper which I took in exchange for 
 that land and for my property worthless, and was it 
 not yours?" 
 
 "Of course, Mr. L , it was mine. I had 
 
 bought and paid for it. Certainly it was mine. But 
 whose paper was it in the commercial sense in which 
 the language you employ can be and is understood? 
 Who was the maker of that paper? It was the paper 
 of the banking firm of P. B. & Co., the company 
 being yourself. It was your worthless paper, not 
 
 mine, Mr. L , for which you saw fit to give me 
 
 property at three times its cash value, and called it 
 liquidating your debt." 
 
 "I am not the firm. If I was a member of it and 
 if you were fool enough to intrust your money to 
 the firm — " 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. L . I was in a situation 
 
 where I had to risk my money, or I had to risk my 
 money and my life both. I was fifteen hundred 
 miles from the place, this town, that I wanted to go 
 to, and either I had to carry the money on my 
 person and face the highway robbers and footpads 
 that scour the streets of the city of New York, or 
 I had to trust their brethren, who ride in carriages, 
 paid for by the sweat and toil of the community, 
 like you. My choice was narrowed down to this 
 and I preferred to risk the cowardly swindler to the 
 courageous highway robber." 
 
 "You will pay for this!" 
 
 "All I owe, Mr. L , where and whenever it is 
 
 due, here and now, or at any time. My paper is 
 worth its face in the market." 
 
ii8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 The wagon moved on and I said: "Good evening, 
 
 Mr. L ." On looking around at Mr. Stock, who 
 
 was standing at my side, I saw the poor man was 
 trembling as if he had an ague fit. 
 
 "And that is one of the damn scoundrels that 
 swindled me and my men out of their money! If I 
 just had my old set of men here! They would have 
 shown him! They would have taught him a lesson! 
 He wouldn't be riding around in open daylight, play- 
 ing the big bug on other people's earnings! But you 
 explained the point of view to him. I wouldn't take 
 a thousand dollars — I wouldn't have missed it for a 
 thousand dollars!" 
 
 September 14, 1856. 
 
 Did not sleep well last night. Busy, trying to ex- 
 tenuate the idiocy of my conduct. Found a way at 
 last to turn it to account. I hunted up Messrs. 
 Hanse-Peter and Witte on the market this morning 
 early, and found that they have the money to buy 
 my notes — the notes which I gave for the deferred 
 payments on my land. I have employed Mr. Little, 
 the broker, to buy them for me — that is, I have 
 offered him thirty-two hundred dollars cash for the 
 notes. This will give Mr. Hanse-Peter and Witte 
 ten per cent on their money, nearly double what 
 they get, and place my obligations in hands where 
 no contingency can make them dangerous to me. 
 
 September 15, 1856. 
 
 Consummated the negotiation with Mr. Little. 
 Had trouble with Jochen and Conrad to get them 
 to take the paper. First they wanted me to keep 
 the discount, and then they didn't want to hold the 
 security. But when I explained to them that it was 
 the only way in which the transaction could be 
 effected, that I would not take their money in any 
 other way, they submitted. 
 
 Cast one-half of the patterns of the parlor stove 
 and had good luck. Mr. Olflf has agreed to finish 
 them and I have shown him the trick of giving them 
 the running quality. He has a remarkable faculty 
 for grasping anything that appertains to a mechani- 
 cal contrivance, however remotely it may be con- 
 nected with his craft. He is very diligent, loses no 
 time, except what he devotes to the study of the 
 English language — if that can be called a loss. I 
 advised him to make his home in some American 
 family, but he told me that was impossible. He 
 seems to cling to his niece with all the tenacity of 
 his peculiar nature; and she is by no means an 
 ordinary woman. She brings him meals to his room 
 and is attentive to his every want. They have many 
 characteristics in common — have less use for 
 language than any persons I ever met, and yet Mrs. 
 Obermeyer has a very pleasing voice. ' 
 
 "Is it the pleasure of uncle to have his breakfast 
 (or dinner) now?" 
 
 "Yes, Reika!" is the extent of conversation that 
 I have heard pass between them. 
 
 September 16, 1856. 
 
 Had a letter from Mr. Fromme, giving me a full 
 list of the new tenants that have agreed to take the 
 land, and are moving on to it as fast as they can 
 get their cabins up. Of these they had built two at 
 the date of the letter — Thursday last. The good 
 man boils over with pious reflections about the 
 work that has been accomplished with "God's special 
 interference." He, of course, does not see that it was 
 nothing but his own want of business tact that stood 
 in his way. If he had bought the land and offered it 
 as security to his parishioners for the money with 
 which to pay for it, they would have taken hold with 
 both hands. But appeals to Christian charity on 
 behalf of a pure business transaction will avail little 
 or nothing with a Plat-Deutsche community. They 
 will not coax a dollar out of the old bootleg. 
 
 "I don't know why — but this dollar, which you 
 have told me is God's blessing to me, is not to be 
 thrown about carelessly. It would not be respect- 
 ful to the author of the blessing," is the Gospel, ac- 
 cording to Jochen. 
 
 Had a call from Mr. F , who is through with 
 
 his design for the coal cooking-stove. It will be 
 a money-making thing, he says. He looks better 
 than ever I saw him look since I have been here 
 and promised to take a vacation next month. It is 
 terrible the way these people work! Day and night, 
 year in and year out! If not inventing new contriv- 
 ances, they are spying out new markets for those 
 they have invented! 
 
 September 17, 1856. 
 
 Dined with my darling and spent the balance of 
 the day and evening in my room; trying to get 
 home once more, away from grab game alley. 
 
 Found a beautiful illustration of the effects pro- 
 duced by the habits of streams where they excavate 
 their channels through alluvial plains, covered with 
 dense forest growth, in a book called "The Travels 
 of Alex. Von Humboldt in Equatorial Countries of 
 the New Continents." Above a place called Esme- 
 ralda, on the headwaters of the Amazon and Orinoco 
 rivers, there are four streams that come from the 
 south and southeast which unite with four others 
 that come from the south and southwest and form 
 what he calls the Orinoco, with a course a little 
 north of west. They keep on in that course until 
 they pass the place called Esmeralda, when some 
 twenty-five or thirty miles below they separate. One 
 arm bends from west to northwest and then north, 
 and with other affluents forms the Orinoco. The 
 other bends from west through southwest and then 
 south, and with other affluents forms the Amazon. 
 Of course, there is no valid reason why these eight 
 streams should be regarded as the headwaters of 
 the Orinoco any more than of the Amazon. In 
 nature they are both. 
 
 The fact being that originally those coming from 
 the south and southwest excavated their united 
 channels from a north to a northwest course and 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 1 19 
 
 after contrnuing this for some distance turned from 
 west through southwest to south until they united 
 with the Rio Negro, and thus with the Amazon; 
 ■while the four that came from the south and south- 
 east excavated their channels bending from south 
 through southwest and then west and continued this 
 course to a point below Esmeralda; then turned 
 from west to northwest to the north and with the 
 Guaviare, the Ventuari and others formed the 
 Orinoco. The two streams, the one originally an 
 affluent of the Orinoco and the other of the Amazon, 
 had a parallel course for some eighty or a hundred 
 miles. This course lay through an alluvial bottom, 
 covered with a tropical forest, resting upon a bolder- 
 shaped granite foundation. In addition to this the 
 two channels ran close to and parallel with the 
 original surface divide that separated the basins of 
 the Amazon and the Orinoco. Against this divide 
 the waters of the two rivers were pitched, the one 
 from the southwest and the other from the south- 
 east. In accordance with the general habits of 
 streams running through such areas, the channels 
 oscillated from side to side, until finally the divide 
 was eroded and the channels united. The waters 
 followed the duplicated channel as far as the origi- 
 nal channels ran parallel, and when they came to 
 the point of divergence, they separated into two 
 channels, for the reason that both existed before the 
 duplicate channel was established. 
 
 It is amusing to read the explanation of this 
 phenomenon advanced by Humboldt. He says: "If 
 we analyze a stream as to its cross section, we 
 find that its bed consists essentially of a number of 
 troughs of unequal depth. The wider the stream the 
 more numerous are these troughs; they even run for 
 long distances more or less parallel with each other. 
 From this it follows that most streams can be re- 
 garded as consisting of a series of channels brought 
 close together; and that a bifurcation is formed 
 when a small section of ground on shore is lower 
 than the bottom of one of these troughs." 
 
 If I endeavor to transform these words into things, 
 I have to be very careful to take the section of the 
 shore that the author says "Is lower than the bot- 
 tom of one of the side troughs" small enough, or all 
 the water will run out of the original stream and 
 there will be a new channel, but no bifurcation. It 
 is safest also to have the place lined with some im- 
 pervious material, such as granite or the like, or it 
 will inevitably grow larger and carry off all the 
 water. The'i, there is that other difficulty. How m 
 the world did the water that dug that hypotiietical 
 trough happen to miss this low spot? Why did it not 
 save itself the labor of excavation and follow the 
 line of least resistance at once! 
 
 There is an analogous phenomenon presented on 
 the Missouri, at the mouth of the Osage; where we 
 have an instance of the larger of two rivers actually 
 abandoning its bed and adopting the channel of an 
 affluent; and that, too, where both streams have 
 permanent rock shores. The Missouri, by cutting 
 
 through the narrow point which separated its waters 
 from the Osage, some ten miles above the former 
 mouth of the latter stream, has converted what at 
 one time was its own southern shore and the north- 
 west shore of the Osage into its own northern shore, 
 and moved the mouth of the affluent that distance 
 up stream. As the point consisted of rock, the part 
 cut off remains to bear witness how a stream plays 
 with its banks. 
 
 September 18, 1856. 
 
 Caught myself dreaming again last night. I 
 wonder what could have suggested or induced such 
 a dream? The first was a short editorial in the same 
 paper — to which it seems I have become a regular 
 subscriber. It says: 
 
 "To carry an election with money is like raising 
 a crop by irrigation — a very effective mode of hus- 
 bandry as long as the conduits that deliver the 
 water from the reservoir to the plants are sound. 
 But in political husbandry of this kind, there is a 
 fatal tendency to leakage. The ditches have their 
 banks impaired by wash-outs, the troughs get sun- 
 warped, so that however abundant the irrigating 
 material at the fountain head, the plants at the 
 farther end are likely to starve, while the public 
 roads and highways, along and across which these 
 artificial arteries necessarily run, become quagmires 
 of disgusting filth. Persons in charge should take 
 note of this." 
 
 Perhaps this was a veiled editorial allusion to an 
 item which I found in its column of local news. 
 Says the reporter: 
 
 "The scene in court yesterday was very impressive 
 when his honor, the judge, passed sentence upon the 
 different parties found guilty during the term." 
 
 " 'Stand up, sir!' was the stern command of the 
 court. 'You, sir, have been convicted of fraudulent 
 voting and of stuffing the ballot-box with spurious 
 tickets, in violation of the laws of this common- 
 wealth!' 
 
 "The judge proceeded: 
 
 " 'Have you aught to say why the sentence of the 
 law should not be passed upon you?' 
 
 " 'Yes, your honor. You see, there was so few of 
 them, I mean voters, that voted your ticket, your 
 honor, that the boss thought you would be beaten; 
 and, said he, it was a shame, and so it was, your 
 honor; that you was a liberal man, your honor; and 
 that you had put up the stuff, and that we ought to 
 do you right for it. And, says I, how many ought 
 it to be? A couple of hundred or so will fix it, says 
 he. And I did not put in more than fifty beyond 
 that, for fear of a miscount, you see, your honor. 
 And'— 
 
 " 'Sheriff remove the prisoner. Sentence is de- 
 ferred,' broke in the judge." 
 
 Cast the last batch of the parlor stove patterns 
 and took a casting of the first pattern finished by 
 Mr. Olff. This puts the whole matter beyond ques- 
 tion. Both Mr. F and Mr. W are very 
 
120 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 much pleased, especially the latter. He is perfectly 
 delighted to get even with the pattern makers. 
 
 "We have got them on the hip now. They can't 
 run things to suit themselves any longer." 
 
 Both admired the pattern; and it is a very su- 
 perior piece of work. Every line is perfect and 
 when the weight of the casting showed that the 
 question of running was no longer to be considered, 
 that we could run anything as light or heavy as the 
 
 practical use of the article might dictate, Mr. F 
 
 thought that there was nothing left to work for in 
 that direction. 
 
 September 19, 1856. 
 Finished drawing the papers for the road from 
 and through my land to the river landing. Called 
 the latter Long's Landing. As the gentleman who 
 represents the western part of the county upon the 
 bench is named Long, it is likely he will take an 
 interest in the project, sufficient at least to secure 
 the prompt action of the court. I have sent the 
 petition to Mr. Fromme to have it signed by the 
 tenants. 
 
 September 20, 1856. 
 
 "If I mistake a mud turtle for a flying squirrel, 
 that will not make the mud turtle take flying leaps 
 from one tree to another, nor the flying squirrel 
 paddle around in a slough! If I mistake a crow for 
 a thrush, that will not make the crow sing nor the 
 thrush caw! It is I who make the mistake and I 
 
 will have to bear the consequences. Mr. L is 
 
 nothing to me, except a very ignorant person, and 
 such are liable to make mistakes. Why should 1 lose 
 my temper and bawl at him, in the presence of 
 strangers? He made the mistake; it was for him 
 to correct himself the best way he could. I owe 
 him no instructions. 
 
 "He took me to be an ignorant Dutchman, ready 
 to be gulled and flattered by being accorded the 
 high privilege of listening to so distinguished a 
 person as himself, condescending to patronize such 
 a one as me; he, the distinguished man, whose 
 achievements consist of being brought forth into the 
 world upon the banks of the Mississippi, at a time 
 when neither of his parents spoke the English 
 language any more than the 'miserable Dutch,' whom, 
 for want of such linguistic attainments, he regards as 
 legitimate game! 
 
 "What business had I to talk to him at all?" 
 
 "It would have been better, perhaps, if you had 
 
 said nothing," replied Mr. F . "Still I don't 
 
 think there was any harm done in giving him a 
 little advice. The fact that he had the effrontery to 
 speak of his generosity is really surprising. I hap- 
 pened to know that he would be able to use your 
 paper to good advantage in settling with his old 
 partners; and that was the reason I suggested to you 
 that perhaps I could do something with it. If it had 
 not been a profitable speculation for him, I should 
 have never thought of making the suggestion. I 
 had no idea of trading with his generosity. 
 
 "But it might have been as well if you had put 
 up with his arrogance on account of the notes he 
 holds — I mean the notes for the deferred payment 
 on the land. Although they shan't trouble you; I 
 reckon brother and myself can take care of them, 
 if necessary." 
 
 "I am obliged to you for your kindness," said I. 
 
 "But Mr, L holds no notes of mine. I thought 
 
 the matter over and had them picked up by some 
 friends, over the river. They are people who make 
 money and spend none. They are not engaged in 
 business that is subject to any extraordinary fluc- 
 tuations and, therefore, not liable to any extraordi- 
 nary calls for capital. I thought it was safest for 
 me if I wanted to carry the property to have my 
 obligations in their hands. They know the security 
 and value it higher than any person in the city is 
 likely to do." 
 
 "Then what are you talking about? The man at- 
 tacked your credit to your face, in the presence of a 
 person, the contractor, who is relying upon your 
 responsibility in carrying on his work. If you had 
 not resented that, you would be no man — certainly 
 no business man. He got what he deserved and the 
 less he says about it the better for him. But he has 
 gone through a financial difficulty in the last three 
 months that was enough to unbalance anyone. He 
 will be all right when he gets fairly at himself." 
 
 September 21, 1856. 
 
 Jochen called to-day and brought me a pair of 
 teal ducks. They are very fat, and he reports that 
 they are coming in from the north. 
 
 "They are beginning to come with every cold 
 spell," said he, "and in the course of the next three 
 months we will have all we want, if it don't freeze 
 up all the lakes and ponds. But we will have plenty 
 before that; and I want to see you shoot some of 
 them. When do you expect to go down to the 
 prairie, to see what the gophers are doing? I tell 
 you, sonny, there will be some very good shooting 
 down the bottom, all the way down, from here to 
 the landing." 
 
 I told him that there was a matter I wanted to 
 look into down there, but I should like to have 
 Conrad Witte and himself with me. 
 
 "I want to see what to do with that land on the 
 bluff," I said. "There is enough there for a couple 
 of farms. I'm not certain but that they ought to 
 be fruit farms, at least in part. The eastern two 
 eighties arc as good prairie as any we have, but the 
 western two are over half covered with timber, and 
 these I think ought to be planted with fruit trees." 
 
 "That is likely, Henry, but we want Conrad. He 
 knows all about that blufif, and you see, sonny, it is 
 all narren tant for a man to think he knows about 
 a piece of land unless he has worked it, or some 
 like it. I know that bottom. I know what to do 
 with it. But that blufi, Conrad knows more about 
 it in a day than I in a year. He raises crops where 
 I would starve, unless I had somebody to watch. 
 Now, I will see Conrad and when it suits him we 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 will go. I am getting along with my marketing 
 and Feeka knows how to run the farm. They don't 
 fool her very much, and they hate to be caught by 
 her worse than by myself." 
 
 Saw Mr. O. D. F- 
 
 September 22, 1856. 
 and the more I see of him 
 
 the more I admire the man. While talking with him 
 to-day in his office shop, I noticed that he kept 
 looking through the glass partition which cuts it oflE 
 from the store. Finally he called one of his sales- 
 men, who was busy waiting on a customer. 
 
 "Antwine!" 
 
 The man stepped into the office. 
 
 "You tell Mr. Nickolls, the man you're waiting on, 
 to make his bill as small to-day as he can. Tin has 
 come down and we have not had time yet to mark 
 down the goods. He will not do himself right by 
 buying a large bill to-day." 
 
 He then turned round to me and went on with the 
 conversation. He is very much opposed to slavery. 
 It seems to be repugnant to his entire moral nature. 
 I told him that I had read the last few days the 
 travels of a man by the name of Humboldt, in the 
 valleys of the upper Orinoco and the Amazon; and 
 that the author gave a description of the peculiar 
 method adopted by the monks to Christianize the 
 natives; that they simply organized armed forays, 
 captured what they did not kill and confined the 
 captives at what they called the missions, until they 
 were tame — not unlike our people capture and tame 
 bear cubs and other wild beasts and train them to 
 do tricks," 
 
 "And does he justify such conduct?" he asked. 
 
 "No; he denounces these forays as in violation of 
 the laws of both God and man, although he does not 
 use that expression — he says 'church' and 'state'; 
 and as utterly subversive of the natural freedom of 
 the native population, of which he is a great champ- 
 ion. Indeed, when science demands to examine 
 the headwaters of the Orinoco, through the eyes of 
 the author, and this could not be done without his 
 ascending the falls of the Maypures, and the Indian 
 navigators who render this possible showed signs of 
 availing themselves of their natural freedom and 
 some of them were put in the stocks over night to 
 prevent them from doing so; and one, who is 
 caught in the act, gets a terrible flogging with raw 
 hide on the bare back — the author takes special oc- 
 casion to rehearse his confession of faith, according 
 to Jean Jaques Rousseau. He declares 'that all 
 men are born free and equal.' He recites this be- 
 fore he rides, while they row — row against the double 
 current, the current of the river and the current of 
 their own inclinations. 
 
 "An article of faith of this kind is a great thing; 
 its rehearsal, upon proper occasions, a wonderful 
 solace! It withdraws the mind from the incongru- 
 ous facts presented, and centers its attention upon 
 its own self-consistent harmony, so beautiful to con- 
 template! 
 
 "He also relates how some thirty thousand of these 
 'beautiful people' — Carlhs, almost as good as no 
 cannibals at all — I use his language literally — only 
 eating those they have killed, have been deprived by 
 these outrageous armed forays of their 'natural 
 freedom,' and are living at the missions; while some 
 ten thousand of the same tribe are still enjoying 
 their natural liberty, of eating their enemies, the 
 Cabrees, or being eaten by them, as the exigencies 
 of this 'natural freedom' may determine." 
 
 "And you do not believe in the great principle that 
 all men are born free and equal?" 
 
 "Of course I do; but it doesn't apply to me. I 
 know that I was born the equal of any man in help- 
 lessness. I know that I was born in abject helpless- 
 ness, in utter dependence. But to my mind depend- 
 ence and freedom are incompatible conditions. To 
 say that I was born free is not true — however it 
 may be with other men. I was born destitute, even 
 of the capacity to utter my wants, my dependence, 
 except by an inarticulate bawl! The measure of 
 freedom which I enjoy I have to achieve, and this 
 achieving is the task of my life. According to my 
 reading and observation, this also is the task of all 
 men; and their achievements in the accomplishing of 
 this task are mine, if I possess myself of them. 
 
 "To do so I must obey the conditions under which 
 this alone is possible. These conditions are not of 
 my originating, and yet I must obey them, whether 
 I wdl or not. I am the ignorant, helpless, dependent 
 thing I was born until I do obey these conditions, 
 and in accordance with them acquire the facilities 
 that lift me above that helpless ignorance and de- 
 pendence. 
 
 "I must articulate that senseless bawl; not in ac- 
 cordance with my own sweet will, but in accordance 
 with forms of utterances involving pronunciation 
 and arrangement of words into grammatical rela- 
 tions. At the same time I must acquire the meaning, 
 the content of these words, the human elements that 
 fill these utterances — not as I may dictate, but as 
 they exist, before my mind enters the community 
 of mind, wherever it is met. In all this, the mere 
 A. B. C's of my rational self, the exercise of my 
 will was and is that I conclude to obey, that I will 
 acquire — because I do not possess — that I will 
 achieve the implements of freedom, because I was 
 not born with them." 
 
 "But, did you not have the choice, Henry, to re- 
 main as you were born if you wanted to — to learn 
 these things or not, as you saw fit? Were you not 
 born with that freedom?" 
 
 "No, I was not. I could not remain as I was 
 born, for I could not remain at all. But for the help 
 of others I would not have remained an hour. The 
 word 'acquired' was not only furnished by my race, 
 but the opportunity to acquire it. The food and 
 raiment — nurture, amusement and culture — all were 
 from another, not from myself. That is the condi- 
 tion in which nature abandoned me. What she did 
 for Mr. Rousseau, Mr. Humboldt and all the rest 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 who talk about their endowments by nature, endow- 
 ments of rights, of freedom and the like, I don't 
 know. I only speak for myself. She left me with 
 a mass of dying organic matter dangling from my 
 body, which alone was enough to remand me back 
 to the elements in short order, but for the interfer- 
 ence of a human being other than myself." 
 
 "But did she not provide within the breast of the 
 woman who gave you birth an endowment that com- 
 pensated for your helplessness?" 
 
 "Precisely, as she had done within the breasts of 
 all the individuals of the genus mammel at large, only 
 perhaps not as eflfectually in the human specie as in 
 some of the rest for, I notice, there are statutes upon 
 the books of the civilized world against infanticide, 
 and this would suggest that the endowment alone 
 was found insufficient in this case to protect bare 
 existence even. But suppose that it was sufficient, 
 what has that to do with me? Did that make me 
 free, what was in the breast of another? Could I 
 do as I pleased because another could not do as 
 she pleased? But you say that she was compelled 
 by nature to do as I pleased — that is to say, nature 
 subjected her natural freedom to my caprice. But I 
 thought that the phrase — 'all men are born free' — 
 included woman, too, as if it read, 'all men and 
 women are born free.' 
 
 "The truth is, Mr. F , I found myself utterly 
 
 destitute and the fact even that I found myself at 
 all I owe to others and not to myself. But the 
 other to whom I owe this is my own race, to them 
 who had preceded me, and who welcomed me with 
 the resources which they had wrought out against 
 the necessities of nature. These resources they 
 placed at my feet for my acceptance; and the glory 
 of the age is that they are free for all — free for all 
 alike, under the same conditions of acceptance. 
 
 "But these conditions are the reverse of those 
 implied in the abstraction quoted. For these re- 
 sources are the results of human achievements and 
 not the products of nature. As such results they 
 must be achieved by me, for this alone gives them 
 perpetuity and myself freedom. Nature can not 
 confer them, for she does not possess them. I must 
 achieve them, or they are not for me. I must achieve 
 them, or the freedom which they confer is not for me. 
 Each and every generation must achieve them, or 
 they vanish from the face of the earth, for they are 
 human achievements. Nature does not produce, 
 nature does not perpetuate them. Let one generation 
 of the civilized world cease from acquiring, from 
 vitalizing these achievements; cease from subjecting 
 its caprice to the immutable conditions of acceptance 
 of these resources, and the world of man is back 
 where Mr. Humboldt found it on the plains and in 
 the jungles of the Orinoco and the Amazon; with 
 natural freedom presiding over the feast, when Carib 
 eats Cabree and Cabree eats Carib, as nature may 
 determine." 
 
 "But, Henry, you seem to use the word freedom, 
 in a diflferent sense from what we usually attach to 
 
 it. We ordinarily use it in relation to the political 
 aflfairs of man." 
 
 "That may be, for to me a free being is a self- 
 determined, self-dependent being; and this I am not 
 by nature but by attainment. Man as man is free; 
 not through nature, not through another, but through 
 himself; and I, the individual, can only attain the 
 freedom of my race by making its purposes my own. 
 Under this view I need the religious, the educational, 
 the social, the economic resources of the race, no 
 less than the political; for I am speakng of freedom 
 as a reality and not as an abstraction. I need all 
 the resources; all are sacred because essential to my 
 purpose. 
 
 "Of course, Mr. F , if a man is free by nature, 
 
 he needs nothing. At the outside, perhaps, tempo- 
 rarily he may need something in the shape of a 
 fence to keep the runty pigs and breechy cattle out 
 of his field, out of his sphere of industry; something 
 to protect life and property — of course, only tempo- 
 rarily, whilst this, our Gospel, is taking possession 
 of the hearts of man. In the meantime, that govern- 
 ment is best that governs least? Certainly. And 
 no government at all is the best government of all; 
 for is not man free by nature? What need has he 
 for instrumentalities to attain what he has? 
 
 "But the freedom secured by such a political 
 organization for the individual happens to be only 
 a possibility, not a reality, an abstraction and not a 
 concrete fact. This possibilty may eventuate for 
 him in the four walls of a prison, or in a dangle 
 from the gallows, or in the presidential chair. It is 
 because of this peculiar circumstance that I deem it 
 of no concern to me, and suit my thoughts and words 
 to the concrete fact. I accept such an organization 
 for what it is, a guaranty for the possibility of 
 freedom, but to render that possibility real is the 
 task of my life, in the performance of which I need 
 all the resources I have mentioned. To mistake this 
 possibility for the reality, to strut about talking of 
 natural freedom, of natural rights, it is this that I 
 mistrust. It is this strutting, this riding of the 
 possible and claiming it to be real — it is this claim, 
 that I own by nature what can only be mine by the 
 most earnest, patient and persevering exertion, that 
 nauseates me; this claim which takes from life its 
 rational purpose and end and fills the air with self- 
 pitying sobs at the terrible, the horrible outrage 
 that condemns a free being to be self-dependent. It 
 perverts every situation and condition in life. The 
 honest toil by which I achieve my physical inde- 
 pendence is 'degrading drudgery!' Of course, to a 
 man free by nature! The skill and art that renders 
 that toil less exacting are the attainments of 'a mere 
 mechanic!' The rules of conduct that render co- 
 operation between man and man possible, and thus 
 reduce toil to its minimum, are extremely irksome 
 'sacrifices of a part of the natural freedom' — and 
 therefore to be deprecated under all circumstances. 
 
 "Indeed, this would seem the only rational aim 
 left in life, to see to it that this deprecation be 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 123 
 
 thorough. To swing on the gate and eat sugar 
 'lasses will, of course, be the splendid avocation of 
 all — men, women and children — the great mass. But 
 as for us, it is our special province, peculiarly gifted 
 as we are for that purpose, to see to it that this 
 'freeman by nature,' this free being, dependent 
 upon another than himself, be not imposed upon in 
 this universe. 
 
 "This perversion of the entire significance of life 
 permeates everything. Take the case before us. 
 
 "Mr. Humboldt desires to determine the geography 
 of the upper Orinoco, and to make such meteorologi- 
 cal, astronomical, geological, mineralogical, botani- 
 cal and other observations as the opportunity may 
 aflford. To carry out this purpose he requires the 
 local knowledge, skill and endurance of natives who 
 are compelled to render this service by those who 
 have obtained control over them. They render this 
 service at the risk of their lives on more than one 
 occasion. Now, this service was as essential to the 
 accomplishment of the purpose of the journey as 
 that which was rendered by Mr. Humboldt. He 
 could no more stem the current and surmount the 
 cataracts of the Orinoco than they could express 
 for us in the technique of science the results of the 
 journey — although the most important parts of these 
 results had been known to them and their fathers 
 for generations. 
 
 "But who were these men to whose hard toil, 
 skill and courage — they jumped over-board when- 
 ever necessary, where Humboldt and his companion 
 did not dare touch the water for fear of crocodiles 
 and Carib fish — I say, who were these men to whom 
 science is as much indebted as to Mr. Humboldt for 
 whatever benefit it has received from the journey? 
 Nobody! They were mere laborers. Their services 
 did not even entitle them to have their names men- 
 tioned in the chronicle of the achievement. Certainly 
 not! But didn't we deprecate the sacrifice they 
 were compelled to make of their natural freedom? 
 Of course, we deprecated merely! We accepted the 
 fruit of the sacrifice and then we deprecated!" 
 
 "I like to hear you talk, Henry, although I my- 
 self have never bothered my head about such mat- 
 ters. I found myself a young man dependent upon 
 my own exertions, and I shut my eyes and ears to 
 all theories and went to work to make a competence 
 for me and mine. I looked around for an oppor- 
 tunity to do this and when I found one I used it. If 
 I heard some one say that it was more pleasing in 
 the sight of Heaven for a man to live by begging 
 and praying than by honest work I did not believe 
 him. because I thought that if it was right for some 
 to live that way it must be right for all, and if all 
 begged and prayed for a living all must starve. If 
 another said that the man and woman who refused 
 to become husbands and wives, fathers and mothers, 
 were better than those who do not refuse I did not 
 believe him, because I thought that if all the men 
 and women of this generation did that way there 
 would be no generations to come. In a hundred 
 
 years the human race would be extinct. Then, if 
 another told me that it was well enough to take a 
 wife, to beget children and to work for their main- 
 tenance, but that after all, such a life amounted to 
 nothing, that the great thing was to lay up treasures 
 in Heaven, I paid no attention to him either, be- 
 cause I thought that the first treasure of any king- 
 dom was population, as all other treasures depend 
 upon that; and that it behooved any good citizen, 
 of the kingdom of Heaven or any other, to conduct 
 himself in such a way that by no act of his, either 
 of omission or commission, that treasure be 
 decreased or the possibility of its increase be dimin- 
 ished." 
 
 September 23, 1856. 
 
 Agamemnon sacrifices his daughter, Iphigenia, to 
 obtain propitious winds. His wife, Clytemnestra, 
 mother of Iphigenia, enraged at this, unites with a 
 man to revenge the death of her daughter and they 
 slay Agamemnon. Orestes, son of Agamemnon, and 
 his legitimate successor, avenges the death of his 
 father by slaying his mother. It is this thought, that 
 the woman was his mother, that sets him crazy. 
 Prior to her death he sees only the murderess of 
 his father, but in the very act of avenging his death, 
 the woman says: "I slew him because he sacrificed 
 my child; and when he did so he ceased to be hus- 
 band of mine, morally ceased to be father of my 
 children. On his return to his long neglected state 
 he met its de facto sovereign, myself, and I avenged 
 the death of my child, of whom he had obtained 
 possession under false pretence, and then given up 
 to be butchered in cold blood. If it had been you, 
 my son, whose throat he had cut, instead of your 
 sister, what would your shade have asked me to do?" 
 
 A thought quite sufficient to set anybody to 
 thinking — as it gradually unfolds itself to his mind, 
 after the deed, based upon the view that she is the 
 murderess of his father, has been done. For under 
 this view she is not the murderess of his father, but 
 the avenger of the death of her child. It is this tfeit 
 causes the trouble, and this trouble is cured in the 
 arms of his sister — the very person alleged to have 
 been slain, but who in fact is alive and in a situation 
 worthy of her loyal lineage. 
 
 "It is not true then that my father was the mur- 
 derer of his own child. He was your husband, oh 
 woman! And you slew him. Justice was done to 
 you by the hand of the legitimate sovereign of the 
 state. You slew the legitimate sovereign and the 
 legitimate sovereign slays you. In doing this act 
 you ignored the family tie that bound you to him; 
 and the family tie is ignored by him who slays you. 
 An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth!" 
 
 But what about the priestcraft that hovers in the 
 back ground! That pretends to control the meteoro- 
 logical processes of nature by human sacrifices! 
 That says to the commander-in-chief of the army — 
 "Well, yes, you're wind bound; your army is in 
 danger of melting away by inaction, impatience; but 
 pray, what could you expect? What have you done 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 to show your respect for those who control the 
 winds? Nothing. You talk. You give them lip 
 service, but when it comes to doing something, you 
 are not at home. Show your faith by your works. 
 Bring your sacrifice, a sacrifice worthy of the name; 
 a sacrifice commensurate with the magnitude of the 
 emergency to be met; a sacrifice worthy to be offered 
 on behalf of a great people; a sacrifice for the wel- 
 fare of the state and the purposes which that state 
 seeks to accomplish. You want to recover a run- 
 away wife. In such an undertaking the gods have 
 no concern. It is immaterial to them what becomes 
 of such a one. But if you want to interest them, 
 show that it is not the paltry possession of such a 
 woman, but a principle that you are intent on estab- 
 lishing. If this be your purpose, show it by your 
 works. Sacrifice your own daughter to the gods 
 and then you prove that it is not the woman that 
 you are after, but the principle." 
 
 Surely this is hard — horrible! But it is the state 
 that calls, and, as we saw the other day in the case 
 of the Emperor of Austria and his daughter, when 
 the state calls, its voice is so loud that it is apt to 
 drown the sobs of his own child in the ears of the 
 sovereign. 
 
 What can Agamemnon do? He did what Francis 
 Joseph did. In order to enlist the gods, or what 
 is the same thing, their priests, in the enterprise, he 
 sacrifices his daughter, not however as public rumor 
 reports, and is permitted or perhaps even induced 
 to believe, in order to give the thing the proper 
 magnitude in the popular ear, as a victim for but 
 as a priestess at the altar. In other words, he allies 
 his house with the powers that control the winds, 
 so essential to his purpose, by making his own 
 daughter one of them — a priestess of Diana, sister 
 to Apollo. 
 
 Now, I must not overlook the fact that it is 
 immaterial to Agamemnon whether he can control 
 the winds or the patience of his army. Either will 
 serve his purpose. If he can control the latter he 
 can wait for the former to come around, in due 
 course of nature. So far as his purpose was con- 
 cerned, therefore, the one becomes interchangeable, 
 symbolical of the other, especially if I remember that 
 at the time there was no newspaper or printed word 
 of any kind and all com.munication of mind with 
 mind was by word of mouth, by wind. His method, 
 therefore, of controlling the powers of the air, of 
 compelling them to swell the sails of his enterprise, 
 if not of his fleet immediately, was far from being 
 unskillful or unusual. Indeed, I believe it has per- 
 petuated itself even to this day. Of course, it may 
 not always be the priesthood that can claim "Aga- 
 memnon's virgin daughter" now; it may be the 
 rostrum, the forum, or the press instead of the pulpit 
 alone; but that is a matter for those to consider who 
 ' have enterprises with sails flapping at the mast, with 
 sails that need a favoring breeze, a friendly co- 
 operation of the powers of the air! That is to say, 
 for men who have enterprises in hand that require 
 
 the co-operation of aggregates of men <ind, there- 
 fore, the favor of those who sway the convictions of 
 these aggregates. For me it is enough to know 
 that these powers still exist and that their existence 
 claims the sacrifice whenever their service is es- 
 sential. 
 
 It is true that the modern poet, in dealing with 
 this theme, seems to hint that the sacrifice has been, 
 is or ought to be abolished. But then his authority 
 is extremely recent and I don't see that it has as yet 
 had any effect upon the practical con.' -ct of affairs 
 of this kind. Besides, it was perhaps not strictly 
 pertinent to the solution of the problem in hand and, 
 therefore, might be regarded as a species of sur- 
 plusage. The cure of Orestes was complete when 
 he found that his sister had not been murdered, as 
 his mother had asserted, and public rumor had be- 
 lieved and understood. What became of her and 
 him after that was a matter of great concern to them, 
 no doubt, but could not affect the guilt or innocence 
 of their father or mother, and that was the question 
 at issue — the question of abiding significance. Their 
 return home to their family seat was all well enough, 
 and does furnish entertainment for an idle hour to 
 those who are so unfortunate as to have such on 
 their hands, but involves nothing of perennial impor- 
 tance, nothing to change the conduct of the affairs 
 of mortals. 
 
 September 24, 1856. 
 
 The line of least resistance for a body of water in 
 motion is determined by the inclination of the sur- 
 faces over which it moves. As these vary so will 
 the line vary in direction. But these inclinations are 
 subject to variations by the action of the stream 
 itself — first, by the variation in volume, and conse- 
 quent eroding and carrying power of the water 
 which it discharges; second, by the different de- 
 grees of resistance which the surface offers in dif- 
 ferent places to the eroding power of the stream in 
 excavating its water-way; third, by the difference in 
 form, size and specific gravity of the aggregates into 
 which the eroded material is disintegrated and moved 
 by the stream. These are the elements that co- 
 operate in establishing and continuously modifying 
 the water-way of the stream. 
 
 The body of water starts down the inclination of 
 the surface as it finds it and excavates its bed as it 
 goes. In doing this, however, it meets with different 
 degrees of resistance by the material over which it 
 passes. This results in deep and shallow places in 
 the water-way; and these constitute a new set of 
 inclinations, which govern as long as the stream does 
 not rise above its banks. They throw the current, 
 the eroding power, against one or the other, or now 
 against one and then against the other bank; wear it 
 away and produce curves in the channel, more or 
 less independent of the original line of least resist- 
 ance. These curves produce inequality in the rapidity 
 with which the different parts of the volume of water 
 pass down the water-way, and as the silt carrying 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 125 
 
 capacity of a stream depends upon its volume and 
 motion, the load of excavated material is dropped in 
 those parts of the channel where the water moves 
 slowest. This is at a point opposite to the bank 
 that is being eroded, against which the current is 
 pitched. The river thus builds up one of its banks 
 and cuts away the other at the same point of its 
 course. 
 
 The greatest diverging from the channel estab- 
 lished by the original inclinations of the surface 
 occurs where the area traversed is an alluvial plain, 
 covered with a heavy forest growth and resting upon 
 an uneven boulder-shaped, rocky foundation — 
 especially where the alluvial deposit is of considerable 
 depth, but not deep enough to prevent the river 
 from cutting down to the rock foundation, 
 
 I have had to give this matter considerable atten- 
 tion recently on account of the landing which I 
 intend to establish, and find that there is very little 
 help to be obtained from the books, on this subject — 
 at least from such as are at my command. It is also 
 evident that the time will come when the question, 
 how to govern or control the Mississippi river, will 
 present itself to the people of the watershed and 
 valley with great urgency, both on account of the 
 importance of the river for transportation purposes, 
 and on account of the value of the land to be pro- 
 tected in the immediate valley. 
 
 Dined with my sweetheart and took a walk with 
 her to look at our house. It is under roof, and 
 she was very much surprised at the size and its hand- 
 some appearance. 
 
 September 25, 1856. 
 
 Made the second payment to Mr. Stock, and he as- 
 sures me that he will be able to deliver possession of 
 the house by the twenty-fifth of November. 
 
 Finished casting the last batch of patterns of the 
 parlor stove and the foreman told me the figures — 
 that the entire work would cost forty-seven per cent 
 of what it would have cost by the old method. 
 
 "And then, neither this nor any other shop west of 
 the Alleghany Mountains ever had a set of patterns 
 like them. I had six pieces in the sand to-day and 
 it is a pleasure to see the plate, both to me and the 
 man." 
 
 While talking Mr. F came in and he also 
 
 expressed his satisfaction at the manner in which the 
 patterns behaved in the sand. 
 
 "But you seem to take it as a matter of course, 
 Mr. B ," he remarked. 
 
 "Most assuredly I do. I have such an abiding 
 faith that water will run down hill under all cir- 
 cumstances, that it never surprises me when I see 
 it. A pattern will, nay, must work right if it is made 
 right, and whether it is or not, that I know before 
 it leaves my hands. That is what you pay me for." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," he remarked. "But if you had 
 seen the trouble we have had you would not be sur- 
 prised at our satisfaction. Mr. W , you have 
 
 had a great deal of worry with the three men in the 
 
 upper pattern shop. When they get through with 
 the work in their hands you may discharge them. 
 
 "Now, Mr. B , I want to ask you a question." 
 
 At this Mr. W retired. "Do you think we 
 
 could take the bold ornaments upon this plate off, 
 cast them in the form of shields, separately, and thus 
 save the inconvenience which the plating of them will 
 cause while they form a part of the casting itself? I 
 have experimented enough with the plating process 
 to see that it will be a practical thing in our busi- 
 ness; not perhaps necessary now, but it will soon be 
 adopted by our competitors in the east, who are 
 moving more and more into our territory by the 
 greater facilities of transportation that are being 
 developed from day to day, and I think it will be 
 well if we are prepared for them. Understand, my 
 idea is to have the patterns duplicated, so far as the 
 ornamentation may make it necessary; one set with 
 and the other without plating." 
 
 "There is nothing to hinder the making of the 
 modifications you suggest; but as to the parts that 
 ought to be plated, that is a matter about which I 
 should like to consult Mr. Olff. It is a question of 
 artistic taste. A stove, overloaded with plated orna- 
 ments, will be a gaudy and expensive affair, that only 
 advertises both maker and owner as fond of vulgar 
 display." 
 
 "That is all right, Henry. What we want is some- 
 thing that will sell, but I reckon the highest skill 
 in ornamentation will not be thrown away." 
 
 "On the contrary, the highest skill is precisely 
 what will please the most." 
 
 "Yes, but we want to please the most people." 
 
 "That is what I mean. I know of no standard of 
 excellence in art except that derived from general 
 or universal appreciation. Of course, I do not mean 
 an appreciation of a day or a year, because that is not 
 general, but an appreciation that comes with the 
 applause of the centuries. Never mind about that, 
 however. You give me the privilege of asking Mr. 
 Olff to indicate what ornaments ought to be plated 
 and whether he would suggest any modifications; in 
 other words, make me a drawing of that stove, 
 ornamented according to his taste, with as much 
 plating as he sees fit to employ." 
 
 "Now you have it, Henry. That is what we want. 
 But don't interrupt him in his present work. By 
 the by, I have promised my wife to go with you for 
 a week or ten days out into the woods, as soon as 
 you get ready. I feel ten years younger and she 
 thinks that you are the best doctor that ever pre- 
 scribed for me." 
 
 "Give her my compliments and tell her for me 
 that if she will accompany you on the trip that I 
 will arrange, the cure shall be complete and she will 
 learn how to make it permanent." 
 
 This amused him very much and I had to give him 
 an outline of my plan. 
 
 "That is not as wild as it seemed at first," he re- 
 marked. "I will talk to her about it." 
 
126 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 September 26, 1856. 
 
 Received a letter from Mr. Fromrae. He has 
 leased the land and put the people in possession. He 
 is boiling over with pious exuberance and insists 
 that I must be present on the tenth of October, 
 when he proposes to dedicate the large school house. 
 He says that I must talk to the people on that day. 
 
 Also received a letter from Mr. M , the 
 
 county clerk, advising me of the action of the 
 county court in establishing the road to Long's 
 Landing, with an order to have the same cut out 
 through the bottom at public expense, in accordance 
 with the plat furnished by me and approved by the 
 court. Answered his letter, expressing my obliga- 
 tions for the interest he has shown in the matter. 
 
 September 27, 1856. 
 
 Was up with my darling at Mrs. F 's to tea 
 
 and got home so late that I feel ashamed of myself! 
 
 September 28, 1856. 
 Did not have time last night to write down any- 
 thing about our visit at Mrs. F 's; nor was 
 
 there very much to write about. The first part of 
 the evening passed away with the usual social chit- 
 chat, until Mrs. F noticed that I showed a sad 
 
 lack of interest and, like the accomplished hostess 
 that she is, endeavored to draw me into the con- 
 versation by observing: 
 
 "Mr. B , what is the latest production in 
 
 literature that has attracted your attention?" 
 
 "Why, Mrs. F , what in the world put it into 
 
 your mind to ask me such a question? You know 
 that I am not a reader of literature. I have no time 
 to give to such an occupation." 
 
 "But you do find time to give to your books. Mr. 
 
 F has told me that you live in them; that you 
 
 spend every hour that you can spare from busmess 
 and rest with your books," she insisted. 
 
 "That is true, Mrs. F , and yet it is also true 
 
 that I devote no time to literature. The fact is, I 
 have come to regard what is usually called literature 
 as of interest only to the unemployed — as a solace to 
 the unfortunate idle, with which persons situated 
 
 like Mr. F , for example, or even myself, have 
 
 no concern whatever. Looked at from the side of its 
 origin, it is purely commercial, made for sale, like 
 the goods we find in the Jew shops. If the maker 
 misses a present sale he misses everything. From 
 the side of its use it illustrates, I suppose, the old 
 saying— 'The Devil still finds something to do for 
 the idle hand.' 
 
 "Of course, if you take literature in the large sense, 
 as embracing all books, sacred as well as profane, 
 then the more business a man has on his hands the 
 more business he has for his books. But that is not 
 the way the term is usually understood, when one in- 
 quires about the latest productions in literature. Such 
 books as are essential to a busy man, to a man who 
 has something to do, and means to do it, are not 
 produced every day, nor every century, so as to sug- 
 
 gest an inquiry of this kind. They generally contain 
 a resume of a nation's culture, or they contam the 
 culture of an epoch in the world's history. Before 
 they can appear the nation must have achieved the 
 culture chronicled, or portrayed; the epoch in the 
 history must have arrived, and neither class of 
 events are of such frequent occurrence as to justify 
 the appearance of daily, weekly, monthly or even 
 annual publications. 
 
 "The literature of the day is the mirror of the 
 day, in which the individual, who is also of the day, 
 both sees and shows his image. In this it performs 
 a world historic function; but as in the old saying— 
 'The Devil is said to look over the shoulder of the 
 young lady who consults her glass after supper'— so 
 it may happen to the individual who consults this 
 mirror too frequently, that he sees his own image 
 in the same frame with that of the father of lies." 
 
 "Mr. B , you quote so many sayings about 
 
 the Devil — do you believe in the Devil?" 
 
 "Mrs. F , I believe in scare-crows as scare- 
 crows; in lies as lies. But the man who believes in 
 truth as truth cannot believe in a lie. I hope you 
 will not hate me for my want of faith in a lie." 
 
 "But you talk about books as sacred and profane. 
 I thought there was but one sacred book— the Bible." 
 "That I regard as a mistake; even if we use the 
 word sacred in the narrow sense in which it is ap- 
 plied to the Bible. In that sense the Koran is a 
 sacred book! So are the Veda and Samaveda; in 
 short, all the people who are in possession of the 
 printed word have or have had each their sacred 
 book or books; and those who have nothing but 
 traditions had and have their sacred transmissions 
 from the past. They contain, in conceptive forms, 
 the body of truth which the genius or spirit of that 
 people has realized for itself in regard to the universe 
 and man's relation to and position in it. As the 
 words of the spirit of that people they are divine 
 for them, the words of their God, and of absolute 
 authority for the individuals of that people. They 
 are their truth and God is and can be no more. 
 
 "But if we take this meaning, which the word 
 sacred has had for mankind, regardless of creed, race 
 or nationality, and go with it into a library, of' even 
 moderate pretentions, we shall find that we have 
 quite a collection of sacred books— books that con- 
 tam the truth known to man in regard to this 
 universe. 
 
 "It is true, the creeds sought for a time to dis- 
 credit these additions— claimed exclusive control and 
 monopoly of man's convictions. The new spirit of 
 man was to look through the old spectacles; the 
 new vision to be explained, accredited by the old 
 text. But now, Mrs. F , the old text is ex- 
 plained by the new vision. Man's interpretation of 
 the sacred books was to be the criterion of the true, 
 for the knowing of man. But the knowing of to- 
 day is the criterion of the true in man's interpreta- 
 tions of the sacred books; for it turned out that 
 man's interpretation of a book is no more than a 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 127 
 
 science — a knowing, and one knowing can not very- 
 well give itself airs of authority over another, as 
 long as both owe allegience to truth, without making 
 itself somewhat ridiculous. 
 
 "Of course, this attitude of the old, the sacred, was 
 quite natural. It did look dangerous to admit that 
 its god had forgotten something when he revealed 
 the truth necessary to man's existence — dangerous at 
 least to that comfortable monopoly over man's con- 
 victions. Besides, had it not sufficed to make man 
 'The lord over beasts' through the long series of 
 ages? What more could he want? 
 
 "Still, the spirit of man went on, utterly destitute of 
 any fear of the sacrilege involved in disturbing that 
 monopoly, and treating with contempt even that 
 splendid lordship over beasts — his inheritance. He 
 ignored the sacred text and looked straight up into 
 the sky for the law — 'The will of the Creator,' if 
 you choose, that governs the movements of the 
 visible universe. From this the abiding, he deduced 
 the evanescent — the day and the night, the seasons 
 in their cycle, without the slightest reverence for 
 Mr. Moses and his 'Let there be light and there was 
 light!' His eye fixed upon the abiding, he sees ready 
 for his grasp not a lordship over dumb brutes, but 
 a lordship over nature; and when it is said — 'God 
 is my father; thou, oh man, art my brother'- — he be- 
 lieves; for nowhere in God's family does he find 
 bastards. Truth, self-defined intelligence, a universe 
 transparent to itself, becomes the object of his rever- 
 ence — the object worthy of his descent. He accepts 
 the abiding and controls, subjects the evanescent to 
 his purposes. All miracles cease, except those of his 
 own performance. His god has quit dabbling in 
 tricks of legerdemain, or spanking little boys on 
 the street corners. His God is truth, and truth is 
 his God. It is in and through this, his God, that 
 he seeks to be free, the lord over nature and its 
 necessities. 
 
 "This is not rhetorical rigmarole, Mrs. F , but 
 
 the simple every day fact of our lives. Come, go 
 down with me to-morrow to your husband's shop and 
 watch him at his work. See, with what care, with 
 what patience he investigates; spys about in every 
 nook, cranny and corner of nature's store-house 
 to find the true means for his purpose. And is it 
 not in proportion as he finds the true means that 
 he succeeds in his purpose — his purpose to remove 
 obstructions to human comfort in his chosen depart- 
 ments?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. B , I thought my husband was 
 
 busy making money. The other day you made him 
 out a hero, and now you want him to be a priest, 
 too — if I catch the drift of your thought." 
 
 "Busy making money, is he? So much the better. 
 But does he or does he not accomplish the purpose 
 which I have indicated — increase human comfort? 
 Does he not render human life more pleasant, less 
 subject to adverse conditions?" 
 
 "I suppose so, or else he couldn't make money. 
 They wouldn't pay him." 
 
 "Just so; for the money he is making is the pre- 
 mium man has set upon his work, upon all work of 
 this kind. And it is because of this premium, be- 
 cause human affairs are so organized, that this pre- 
 mium is offered to all, that human genius works in 
 broad daylight — has quit working miracles behind 
 man's back — in sight and hearing of all, and all parti- 
 cipate in that work, not merely in the results, but in 
 the spirit created by its achievements. It is this 
 spirit, begotten and nourished in broad daylight, 
 that constitutes the cumulative power which to-day 
 is at work, building the 'Kingdom of Heaven' — 
 prayed for during the last eighteen hundred years — 
 in which truth shall govern the earth — 'God's will 
 shall be done on earth as it is done in Heaven' — 
 truth shall govern the affairs and concerns of man, as 
 it governs the movements of the planetary systems 
 of the sky. 
 
 "Truth shall govern the affairs of man, not on 
 Sundays, not over yonder, but here and now — the 
 ever present here and the ever abiding now; all the 
 affairs, from the cradle to the coffin. This is what 
 man has yearned, has prayed for during these cen- 
 turies. Now, if the priest is, or ought to be, the 
 chief promoter of the building up of this kingdom, 
 don't you think that men like your husband, who 
 give reality to hope and transform yearnings into 
 present enjoyment, who penetrate the repulsive act- 
 ualities of man's existence with the radiance of 
 truth and transform them into sources of comfort 
 and human well-being, ought at least to be re- 
 garded as worthy Paradise over yonder? The over 
 yonder will be a desolate realm if it is not peopled 
 from the here. But, for the here to be peopled, man 
 must multiply and replenish the earth. This is pos- 
 sible under certain conditions. To know and to 
 observe these conditions is essential; to ameliorate 
 them, divine. All the means to this end are sacred; 
 and of all, the printed word is the most sacred, be- 
 cause the most universal. But the humblest imple- 
 ment of industry belongs to the category, and the 
 most exalted incorporation of the idea, the state 
 itself, does not reach beyond it. It is in this realm 
 where the saint of this age earns his crown, with- 
 out any disparagement of those who preceded him 
 in different ages, with different problems presented 
 for their solution. To appreciate the labors of the 
 latter does not require a depreciation of the labors 
 of the former. Whoever works effectively to amelio- 
 rate the conditions of human existence, the necessary 
 conditions under which alone human existence is 
 possible upon the earth, labors in the realm of the 
 abiding — the divine; whether his labor brings him the 
 applause of the day or its curses, a fortune in pocket 
 or a fortune out of pocket. To teach man to ap- 
 preciate and to obey these conditions is only in- 
 ferentially divine work; but to discover, to see and 
 to announce them Is the holy mission of the sacred 
 book." 
 
 September 29, 1856. 
 
 Jochen called to let me know that he would get 
 
128 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 through marketing by to-morrow, Saturday, and be 
 "foot loose" by the middle of next week for our trip 
 to Long's Landing and the settlement on the bluff. 
 
 "The frost, last night, sonny, has filled the lakes, 
 ponds and creeks in the bottom with ducks, but we 
 needn't to be in a hurry about them. There is 
 plenty of mast; they will not leave soon. See, they 
 are in good fix," he said, drawing out a bunch of 
 mallards from the wagon. "I killed them for you, 
 as I came by the lake this morning. But tell me, 
 Henry, what do you call these? I only got two of 
 them when I ought to have killed a dozen. They 
 are the hardest duck to kill in the bottom. They 
 carry off so much lead. What do you call them?" 
 
 "Canvas-back, Jochen! They are by odds the 
 finest duck that frequents the valley. Are there many 
 of them?" 
 
 "No, only now and then you run on to a flock. 
 But I know a place where they feed, and there we 
 can get them. They pull up a weed from the bottom 
 of a shallow lake and they eat the lower part of it. 
 After they have been here awhile the whole lake is 
 covered with the floating tops of the weed." 
 
 "How far is it to that lake?" 
 
 "A good piece. But we go past it when we go down 
 to your land, that is, within a mile or so of it." 
 
 Took him to dinner with me on condition that 
 Elizabeth and I go to see Feeka next Sunday. 
 
 "There is no preaching," said he, "and then, when 
 you are with me, our mother don't say anything, 
 sonny, if we do have a little fun with our guns in 
 the bottom." 
 
 Cleaned, boned and took the canvas-backs up to 
 
 Mrs. F . Told her to have them broiled and 
 
 served for dinner — broiled, but not too much. She 
 is very kind, only she seems as much in love with 
 Miss Elizabeth as I am; and I have to listen to a 
 lecture, at every opportunity she finds, upon the 
 folly of postponing our union. Of course, she is 
 right, that is, from her point of view. The truth, 
 however, is that that point of view does not enable 
 her to see all the facts that surround us; and I feel 
 some delicacy about telling her, although sometimes 
 I am tempted to do so in self-defense — that is, in 
 justification of our delay, as irksome to me as it 
 seems unwise to her. To-night she was in the best 
 of spirits and commenced to plague me with her 
 favorite theme; but I told her that I could not attend 
 to too many things at the same time. 
 
 "First, I must cure Mr. F of his fits of 
 
 indigestion and that will require a loafing spell 
 in the woods. Then, I have to attend to some mat- 
 ters out in the settlement, and in the meantime all 
 our work in the shop is waiting. Besides, my house 
 requires some attention, and, — " 
 
 "You are a nice fellow," she interrupted. "If I was 
 your sweetheart I'd send you about your business, 
 sure enough. A man too busy to take a wife? What 
 kind of a husband will he make?" 
 
 "One who at least is likely to look out for bread 
 
 for his family; and that seems to me a qualification 
 not entirely indifferent." 
 
 "Of course, Mr. B , you are trying to get off 
 
 on some subject just to hear yourself talk. You 
 know you are not speaking in candor to me. I have 
 told you that two people like you and Miss Eliza- 
 beth have nothing to fear in taking the step which 
 j'ou ought to have taken months ago. I'll repeat 
 what I said then — you are not alone in the world. 
 Our whole family thinks well of you and I think 
 Miss Robertson is a woman that no one can think 
 too much of." 
 
 "I ask your pardon, Mrs. F . I plead guilty. 
 
 I deserve your reproof as regards my want of candor, 
 but the subject is one that I cannot discuss with 
 that frankness which your kindly interest deserves. I 
 am not the right person to put you in possession of 
 the circumstances that delay our marriage, and it 
 would be ungenerous to expect that service from 
 Miss Robertson. Rest assured, kind friend, it is 
 neither she nor I, nor anything under our or any 
 human control that causes us to delay. It is duty, 
 with its cold but imperious voice, that bids us wait 
 and not our caprice." 
 
 "That is another matter and I ask your pardon, 
 
 Mr. B , for presuming to give advice in an 
 
 affair of which I am not fully informed. But I 
 thought it was some foolish timidity, which I have 
 known before now to keep good people apart, and 
 which a word from an experienced friend is well 
 calculated to overcome. 
 
 "Now, as to the health of Mr. F , for which 
 
 I am under such obligations to you; do you think 
 that he ought to risk camping out at this season of 
 the year? He told me of your intended trip, and 
 also that you had suggested in all seriousness that 
 I should accompany him. But of course that is 
 impossible on account of my family duties at home. 
 One of us must be here with the children. You 
 know we cannot command the service here that 
 people of means have at their disposal in older 
 communities. And children are children. Some of 
 ours especially require constant attention It is out 
 of the question, therefore, for both of us to leave 
 home at the same time; and I fear to let him go 
 by himself. You know he is not strong." 
 
 "That is the reason that I have suggested the trip. 
 
 I regard Mr. F as a very strong man; not in 
 
 the sense of athletic strength, for of that he has very 
 little at present — but in the sense of possessing a 
 tough, a tenacious vitality that will recuperate with 
 remarkable elasticity the moment you relieve it of its 
 burden, the mental strain put upon it by his business. 
 He has created a large industrial establishment, 
 which in its commercial relations ramifies through- 
 out the country. He has created it, he is its father, 
 and every detail, down to the smallest minutiae has 
 received his attention and continues to claim his care 
 day and night. The thing is grown. It can stand 
 and walk alone; but he doesn't know it — like an over- 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 129 
 
 anxious mother he dreads to let go of its hand, 
 even for a step or two. 
 
 "Now, this trip will show him that the foundry 
 does not stop, even if he is not there with the call 
 of the bell. Then, he will have exercise, calculated 
 for his physical strength and increased with it from 
 day to day. This will give him such rest at night 
 as he is almost a stranger to, and this will recall his 
 natural appetite. The food will be selected by my- 
 self, and either prepared by my own hand or under 
 my immediate direction. Above all, he will find a 
 world outside of his tread-mill, and it will be my 
 care to interest him in that world." 
 
 "But how is he going to keep from taking cold, 
 with nothing to sleep under for a roof but cotton 
 cloth — a tent?" 
 
 "How is he to keep from catching cold? In the 
 easiest way in the world. By simply breathing air of 
 the same temperature and the same electrical condi- 
 tion, day and night. The danger of taking cold will 
 be when he returns and is boxed up again in his 
 room — jugged, as it were. The severest cold from 
 which I ever suffered was contracted by sleeping in 
 a warm, closed room, after living in a uniform 
 temperature day and night, varied only with the 
 changes of the weather, for three months." 
 
 "How about catching chills? I understand you 
 are going into the bottom. And how is he to 
 sleep with mosquitoes, ticks and things about?" 
 
 "Say snakes!" 
 
 "Yes, snakes! I had forgotten those horrid 
 things." 
 
 "Well, Mrs. F , all these matters have been 
 
 attended to, last night and night before, by Mr. 
 Frost. There is not a chill, mosquito, tick, spider 
 or snake left in the American Bottom, nor in any 
 part of the country where the ice was a half an inch 
 thick this morning at sunrise. Creatures of that 
 kind perish with the first frost of the season; or 
 they seek winter quarters, where they hibernate until 
 the spring recalls them to active life. The same has 
 been observed in regard to malarial poisons, so 
 much so that it was supposed by some that the insect 
 life, and especially the mosquito, was the active 
 cause of malaria. This, however, is not true, al- 
 though we still find it in the books — for the reason 
 that the heaviest swarms of mosquitoes, in the 
 United States at least, are found in the forests of 
 needle wood around the northern lakes, where mala- 
 ria is unknown. Still, it is true that the first frost in 
 the fall kills the poison that causes miasmatic trou- 
 bles, as I am perfectly certain from personal in- 
 vestigation." 
 
 "Suppose we agree for him to go — what must I 
 prepare for him to take along, to make him as com- 
 fortable as possible?" 
 
 "Two suits of underwear, one light and the other 
 heavy, of the very best quality; then two suits, the 
 oldest and the most worthless you can find, of his 
 ordinary business clothes, together with his old over- 
 coat. The foot gear I will select for him. Add to 
 
 this a half a dozen towels, hair brush and comb, 
 with a piece of soap and two large flannel over-shirts 
 — of gray color if you can find them. For sleeping 
 apparatus he wants a mattress and pillow, with a 
 pair of good blankets and a quilt — pillow slips and 
 sheets are not essential, although convenient." 
 
 "What do you want for table and kitchen furni- 
 ture?" 
 
 "Nothing more than what we have. We have all 
 the cooking utensils we need, and for tableware we 
 have tin plates and cups, with a set of iron knives, 
 forks and spoons." 
 
 "And you expect Mr. F to drink out of a 
 
 tin cup?" 
 
 "Certainly! Why not? We can wash them per- 
 fectly clean!" 
 
 "Oh yes, I suppose you can. But they are so hot!" 
 
 "Well, we can wait until they get cool. You see, 
 we don't propose to be in a hurry. We can't hear 
 the bell over there." 
 
 "And then eat with those iron knives and forks!" 
 
 " 'Tis the only kind that I have ever seen used 
 anywhere. There is some difference in the make- 
 up of the material — but we don't propose to eat 
 them; we only eat vfith them." 
 
 "Yes, and I suppose a fork with one prong and a 
 knife without a handle would serve you as well!" 
 
 "Not quite. But then for the handle, we could put 
 one on; the fork, however, is better with two than 
 with one prong." 
 
 "And who is going to do the cooking?" 
 
 "Those who do the eating — mostly! All we want 
 is somebody to keep camp when we are out getting 
 something to eat, and that we can do turn about, if 
 necessary. The fact is, Mrs. F , the only dif- 
 ficulty will be to find something-to do. One day's 
 work a week with my gun, and another day with 
 the rod, will more than supply camp with all the 
 game and fish we can possibly use, and we will 
 have to utilize all the work there is to give us some- 
 thing to do. We don't go into the woods to be idle; 
 we go for rest, and rest is not idleness. It means 
 to call into play functions of the system that have 
 been deprived of their proper exercise, and thus 
 starved, while others have been nourished at their 
 expense. All over-work, so called, is merely one- 
 sided work, and this cannot be relieved by idleness, 
 but by a change of occupation. When your molder, 
 or blacksmith, or currier wants a rest, he lies or 
 sits down and reads, but when your tailor, or shoe- 
 maker, or bookkeeper wants to do the same, he 
 rambles around, looking for dance houses and the 
 like; and either set acts from instinct, to relieve a 
 strain that threatens to warp their physical organiza- 
 tions out of balance. 
 
 "We simply propose to revert back, for the time 
 being, to the primitive condition of the human race, 
 in which each individual performs all the functions of 
 civil society in his own person — to a condition before 
 these functions were specialized into vocations, which 
 in turn specialized men, more or less, into one-sided 
 
130 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 activity. To break up this one-sidedness, which if 
 followed without intermission is likely to produce 
 mental, no less than physical injury, is the purpose 
 with which I seek the forest at this season of the 
 year, when nature is generous and seems to invite 
 contemplation. This purpose is not to be accomp- 
 lished by putting a hotel, with its retinue of servants 
 and lackies, on wheels to be dragged after you — to 
 pamper idleness and call it an 'outing.' An 'outing' 
 for me is a getting out of these very things — out into 
 the forest primeval, out into primitive self-reliance, 
 into primitive self-help — away to nature's board, the 
 sod, or stump, moss-covered, with napkins on every 
 twig and limb, where I serve the dishes and do my 
 own carving. Here I kill the squirrel, the turkey 
 gobbler, the buck, and no hand touches the meat 
 except the hand of the mouth that eats it. It is 
 this self-help that is mother of self-reliance, and 
 self-reliance is the mother of independence, and in- 
 dependence is but another name for health, both 
 mental and physical. 
 
 "The truth is, Mrs. F , that before I sug- 
 gested to Mr. F that you should accompany 
 
 him I hesitated for some time. I feared that you 
 might want to meddle with our economy. I thought 
 it likely that you might think of Miss Elizabeth and 
 request her to go with you. Then I foresaw, as a 
 matter of course, that we would have our simple 
 arrangements all broken up^if not quite in the man- 
 ner of the old story of the garden of Eden — still we 
 could not have 'roughed it' as we need to do, if 
 we want to reap the full benefit of our time." 
 
 "Now,, that was very considerate in you, Mr. 
 
 B , I must say. The idea! Afraid to go into 
 
 Paradise, because you might be tempted and fall! 
 Afraid to have your primitive pig-sty in the woods 
 turned into a human habitation! It was time to 
 hesitate — but I hope you won't get covered with 
 bristles all over before your return home." 
 
 September 30, 1856. 
 
 Looked at from the sun, only half the world is 
 awake, the other half is asleep! Why not awaking 
 and going to sleep? Then going to sleep would be 
 necessary, too, as without it there could be no 
 awaking, no waking up! 
 
 I have no use for a God that doesn't go with me to 
 the shop. Ninety-five per cent of my waking hours 
 are spent there. What do I care for the other five 
 per cent and the time when I am asleep! It is the 
 burden of the day that I want to see in and through 
 him — the play hours will take care of themselves. 
 
 "The world, the flesh and the Devil!" Well, if you 
 class the world and the flesh with the Devil, the ques- 
 tion arises, where do you put the kingdom of 
 Heaven? Is it to be built up in some "Fiddlers' 
 Green," outside of the world? 
 
 I saw an Italian exhibit a monkey to a crowd of 
 little boys. What capacity these people have to cater 
 to the taste of their audiences! From a monkey to a 
 God they will exhibit anything portable that will 
 
 please the crowd and coax the small coin out of its 
 pockets. 
 
 Have finished a glorious week's work in the shop 
 and quit this evening well satisfied. 
 
 October i, 1856. 
 
 Had a day of varied experience — all the doings of 
 Jochen. To begin with, I found him in his wagon 
 'with Miss Elizabeth seated by his side, waiting in 
 front of the house when I went to my room last 
 night. To my look of inquiry, if not of astonishment, 
 he answered: "Yes, Henry, it looks a little like we 
 might have some rain in the morning, and that 
 would be a good thing, but I was afraid it might 
 prevent you from meeting me, as you had agreed. 
 So I went and got Miss Elizabeth; and you must be 
 in a hurry, we can't wait here all night." On at- 
 tempting to say something, he continued — "Narran 
 tant, man! Jump upstairs and get ready. You can 
 do all the talking you want to on our way home." 
 
 I saw no way out but to obey, especially as the 
 eyes of my dear one seemed to plead to the same 
 effect. After I got into the wagon and we had 
 started, he explained: "It is a rule that seldom 
 fails at this season of the year that the third frost is 
 washed off. 'Twill hit twice before it misses once 
 and to-night will be the third white-washer (white 
 frost). Then if it rains a little or only drizzles and 
 fogs in the morning, we are likely to see something — 
 something to shoot I mean. If you can hit them on 
 the go, like you did them long bills (wood-cocks) 
 some time ago, there will be fun in the bottom to- 
 morrow morning, sure enough. You just depend on 
 it, and I want to see it." 
 
 We arrived home in good time for supper and 
 after a pleasant hour spent with little Yetta and her 
 mother, Jochen called me away, up to my room, 
 where he was busy fixing up his gun — blunder-buss, 
 or more frequently, the long grata ("lange greita,") 
 as he calls it. He had bought himself some new 
 loading apparatus, a powder flask with measure at- 
 tached and a shot-bag similarly arranged; and I had 
 to show him how to handle them, so that he would 
 not get tangled. After some practice, he thought he 
 could load as fast again with as without them, and 
 asked: "How would it be, Henry, if we were to 
 make us some wadding, twisted together I mean, 
 ready for use? You see, the ducks fly so thick 
 sometimes you have no time to load your gun, and 
 if we have everything handy it would make a great 
 difference." 
 
 I told him that it was not necessary, that I had 
 some wadding with me that needed no twisting, or 
 chewing; and showed him a box of felt ones for the 
 powder and a box of paste board for the shot. 
 
 "See, see! What wouldn't they get up! Every 
 day something new. And the trouble is you can't 
 do without it if you once see it. It knocks the old 
 things clean out of sight. You can't have any 
 patience with them. But come now, sonny, you 
 must to bed. We want to be at the head of the 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 131 
 
 lake about the time we can see a duck fifty feet off. 
 We will take the wagon. I don't know what about 
 a cup of coffee." 
 
 "You don't need to, Mr. Jochen, because you ain't 
 a going to slip off without me knowing it," said 
 Feeka, entering the room with Elizabeth, without 
 having knocked at the door. "I thought you two 
 were fixing up some conspiracy to get rid of us; 
 but I tell you, Mr, Husband of mine, where you go 
 I'll go, as a true wife should. You have talked so 
 much about Henry shooting things on the go, we 
 want to see it, too — don't we. Miss Elizabeth?" 
 
 "Yes, I would like to see it; if we would not inter- 
 fere too much!" was her answer. 
 
 "With such shooting, as I suppose we will have in 
 the morning, your presence will be no interference, 
 unless it should make me nervous, so eager to hit as 
 to forget the aim!" 
 
 "But suppose there are no ducks to shoot?" put in 
 Jochen. 
 
 "Then we will not see any shot!" answered Feeka. 
 
 "No, of course not. But the horses! You can't 
 get out of the wagon and slop around in the wet; 
 and the horses may scare at the sound of the gnin!" 
 retorted Jochen. 
 
 "You take the big horses. They don't scare at 
 the report of your gun — at least, that is what you 
 always say when I don't want you to shoot out of 
 the wagon. Why should they scare at Henry's gun?" 
 asked Feeka. 
 
 "Well, you see, Feeka, they are used to my gun. 
 It is an old acquaintance like. They know it 
 wouldn't hurt them; but they may not have the 
 same trust in a stranger — and such a loud-mouthed 
 one at that," explained Jochen. 
 
 "We will risk that. Never you mind." 
 
 I then suggested that one of the hired men 
 might drive Jochen and myself over to the ground 
 before daylight, and if we found that the shooting 
 promised well, after it was light enough for the 
 ladies to see the sport, from a convenient distance, 
 he should come for them. This proved satisfactory 
 and we retired for the night, with happy anticipa- 
 tions for to-morrow. 
 
 October 2, 1856. 
 
 At the appointed time this morning we started, 
 and not without the cup of coffee. The weather was 
 thick and the road bad, but with Jochen in the seat 
 we had no trouble to reach the ground in ample 
 time. After we had taken our traps out of the 
 wagon, Jochen explained: 
 
 "It is over that timber, just between them two tall 
 trees there— that is the place they fly through! They 
 come down a slough, that we can't see from here on 
 account of the woods, and make for the lake there!" 
 
 "Just so, Jochen; but how far is it to that slough — 
 I mean to this end of it?" 
 
 "Not more than a quarter, but with the wagon you 
 have to go round a half a mile." 
 
 "Can you reach it with the wagon?" 
 
 "Yes. Why, Henry, all the ducks that get there 
 come here. Every one." 
 
 "No doubt, Jochen; but that is not it. You see 
 we want to get them. Here the birds come over 
 that timber. Right at the timber they are very high 
 for an ordinary charge; and if I stand close to the 
 lake, where they are likely to be lower, I drop every 
 bird that I shoot into the water, and we will have 
 first to shoot and then fish for them besides. If we 
 were at the point of the slough — the point this way — 
 we would shoot the birds before they rise up above 
 the timber, and every one killed or crippled falls on 
 dry land." 
 
 "Narren tant! 'Tis as it is. Not a thing but has 
 its own tricks and if anybody can, Henry is sure 
 to catch them at it." 
 
 Du.-ing this soliloquy he had climbed back into the 
 wagon and said: "Get in, sonny, get in; they will be 
 about before we can get to the place." We were 
 off. We reached there before the flight began, and 
 I selected a bush of lake wood, some fifteen or 
 twenty steps from the point of the slough, in a 
 field of dense sword grass, three feet high, for my 
 cover. Within a step of me the clear water of the 
 slough commenced and stretched toward the east 
 for more than a mile, in one unbroken sheet, with a 
 width of more than one hundred yards in the center. 
 After I had examined my position I cut out some 
 brush so as to give me a free sweep for my gun, 
 before I got through I heard the whiff, whiff, whiff 
 of a flock of wood-ducks, skimming over the sword 
 grass. The light, however, was not as yet sufficient 
 for a shot, as the birds hovered in front of the 
 heavy shade of the willows that fringed the slough. 
 
 "Them are squakers, Henry, just let them go. 
 They will come back," said Jochen, who had crawled 
 up behind me into the same cover. He had scarcely 
 uttered the words when I saw a large flock of teal 
 coming down the slough, hardly high enough to top 
 the sword grass to my left, before they made the 
 rise for the timber, in their course to the lake. As 
 they got opposite, not over twenty-five yards away, 
 I gave them a raking fire with both barrels. The 
 effect was an almost entire wiping out of the flock. 
 One or two straggled off, but the flock was 
 flopping, sprawling, crawling in the sword grass, and 
 on the naked shore of the slough, with Jochen and 
 his man, who had tied the team at some distance, 
 floundering about in the mud after them. But I had 
 no time to enjoy the circus, for before I could 
 recharge my gun, flock after flock passed me, almost 
 in reach of my ramrod, as it seemed. As fast as 
 I could load I shot and Jochen hallooed: "It is 
 raining ducks here, Henry! Do you want any help?" 
 
 "If you are not busy!" 
 
 Just then I saw a large flock of mallards approach- 
 ing, but my gun was empty. 
 
 "Thunder!" said I. "The best chances are always 
 for the empty gun." 
 
 "Take mine!" hallooed Jochen. "It stands behind 
 
132 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 you. 'Tain't as bright as yours, but it will kill as 
 wefl in your hands." 
 
 And before he had ended both barrels went crash- 
 ing into the mallards. The effect can only be real- 
 ized when I state that the birds were skimming the 
 sword grass, almost touching it with the tips of 
 their wings, and therefore practically on a level 
 with the gun at the instant of firing. Jochen no 
 sooner saw the destruction wrought by his gun than 
 he came rushing toward me and said: "Now, sonny, 
 I will hold, while you skin!" and he commenced 
 loading. After this very few chances offered found 
 an empty gun, for his "holding" meant loading and 
 my "skinning" meant shooting. The limit to this was 
 the capacity of the guns — their capacity to resist the 
 fire— to keep cool; for by this time the flight of 
 birds had resolved itself into a continuous stream; 
 flock did no longer follow flock, as they did at 
 first, but the whole was one whizzing mass, without 
 intermission, without vacant spaces intervening. But 
 with the increase of light the birds flew higher, and 
 although still in more than easy reach of the guns, 
 the fire was not so destructive. On the other 
 hand, the dead and wounded birds all fell on the 
 clean shore of the slough, where none was lost. 
 With fair day-light, although this was late on ac- 
 count of the fog, which gradually changed to a driz- 
 zling rain, I rested to cool the guns and asked 
 Jochen whether we had not better send for the 
 ladies — Feeka and Elizabeth. 
 
 "Yes, sonny, yes. You see, they wouldn't come 
 in this weather; but so much the better. It will 
 give us an excuse for next time, when we may not 
 want them. You keep on and shoot what you want. 
 I will go for them and leave Nick here to take care 
 of the ducks." 
 
 And away he went. But before he got out of 
 sight a flock of brant came over — a little higher than 
 the stream of ducks, .still in easy range, however, 
 and I dropped a pair of them in full sight of Jochen. 
 I heard him mutter something, but could not make 
 out what it was. 
 
 I now charged my gun with heavier shot and kept 
 it in reserve for geese and brant, using "long grata" 
 for ducks. For continuous shooting, I found the gun 
 preferable to my own, as it weighs some two pounds 
 more and this additional metal gives it greater power 
 of resistance. The ordinary charges, which I found 
 quite sufficient for the work in hand, never gave it 
 the slightest jar, and this in hours of continuous 
 shooting amounts to quite an item of comfort. Soon 
 another flock of brant, as I supposed, came in sight, 
 but they proved to be large Canada geese, and after 
 taking my toll, I had scarcely recharged my gun, 
 when a flock of still larger birds caught my eye, 
 floating along above the stream of ducks, like a 
 strata of white clouds above the gray mists be- 
 neath. I reached for them and brought down the 
 leader and his mate, the former, however, only 
 winged. As soon as they reached the ground, or in 
 fact before, I recognized them to be swan; and 
 
 hastened to prevent the winged bird from gaining the 
 water, for which he made with rather ungainly 
 motions. 
 
 "Why don't you shoot him," cried Jochen — and 
 there, in full sight was the wagon, with Feeka and 
 Elizabeth in high glee at my tussle with the wounded 
 bird. But when I conquered him, and brought the 
 prince of the lake, tied so that he could not injure 
 himself, or deface his beautiful plumage, to the 
 wagon. Miss Elizabeth said: "Oh, Mrs. Hanse- 
 Peter, I am so glad I came with you. I would not 
 have missed this for anything in the world. But I 
 thought we came out to see the gentlemen shoot 
 birds; I did not know they caught them on the 
 ground!" 
 
 "Look at Sip!" broke in Mrs. Hanse-Peter. "If he 
 hasn't caught a duck! That is the way these men 
 do. They catch poor things in the grass, where they 
 have got tangled and then brag about their shoot- 
 ing! Just look, I can get all the game I want with 
 Sip! See, he is after another!" 
 
 I gave Jochen the wink and he remounted the 
 wagon. "You better drive a little farther to the 
 left and stay awhile with the team; I will see whether 
 I can kill a bird or two of those up there that have 
 not got into the grass yet." For Sip, the dog, was 
 coming with another wounded bird from the cover. 
 
 "That's all right," said Feeka, "Sip is good enough 
 for me. But just look, Elizabeth, did you ever see 
 anything like it!" she continued, as they came in full 
 sight of the flight of birds. 
 
 Jochen having brought the wagon into proper 
 position, I commenced paying attention to my gun; 
 and in less than five minutes both the ladies were on 
 the ground, picking up birds regardless of rain, 
 slush and mud. 
 
 "Because," said Jochen, "you see, he can't kill 
 them so that they will all fall in your laps, no 
 matter how hard he tries. Now, sonny, let us g^ve 
 them something to do!" he added, giving the horses 
 to the hired man. He commenced loading again and 
 I shot with a will, "so as to keep the girls warm," 
 as Jochen urged. In the meantime the flight of ducks 
 commenced thinning out, while the geese became 
 more and more numerous, so that I used both guns 
 for the latter. 
 
 "They come down with a grunt; the girls can find 
 them better," said Jochen. 
 
 Just then Feeka gave a scream and on looking 
 around we saw her wrestle with a big gander. She 
 had picked the bird up by catching him by the neck, 
 and as he proved to be but slightly wounded he 
 commenced to use his wings, on coming to. She 
 held on to him until the bird had turned her around 
 a couple of times, when he broke away and made 
 straight for the water. As this brought him in range 
 of my gun she kept calling: "Shoot him, Henry, 
 shoot him! Don't let the rascal get away!" But the 
 bird was coming almost straight toward me and a 
 ^i vihot at him might have been dangerous to Mrs. 
 Hanse-Peter; besides there was no occasion to 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 133 
 
 hurry. Nevertheless, as the bird was getting farther 
 and farther away from her, she supposed him lost 
 for good and commenced: "Yes, he just let him get 
 away a purpose; isn't that too bad! And it was the 
 biggest one of the lot, too!" The bird having passed 
 me and got over the water of the slough, I dropped 
 him with a splash that fairly made her shriek, and 
 then she called: "Sip, here Sip, here Sip! Catch 
 him. Sip!" 
 
 She ran down the slough and commenced throwing 
 clods of dirt into the water toward the dying bird 
 to guide the dog. 
 
 "Catch him Sip, catch him!" she cried. "That's a 
 good dog! That's a good dog!" as the cur dragged 
 the game ashore, and then by way of returning her 
 kindness, shook a half a bucket of dirty, smelling 
 slough water from his coat, all over his mistress. 
 But she didn't mind that, did not even notice it, and 
 brought her bird in triumph to the wagon. "And 
 now, Henry, that is enough! What are we going to 
 do with all these birds? Come, let the poor things 
 live!" she said. 
 
 "With all these birds!" put in Jochen. "Why, you 
 don't see any of them! Just wait until I bring what 
 we shot before you came, and then you will think 
 that we have some ducks and geese, sure enough!" 
 "With that he told Nick to drive round to the 
 birds, and when they came back with the wagon over 
 half full of ducks and geese, Miss Elizabeth said: 
 
 "Just look at that, Mrs. Hanse Peter! They have 
 slaughtered what they could without ever thinking 
 what use they could make of them! Is it not a pity!" 
 "But you see, girls, we caught them in the grass, 
 where they had got tangled, as you saw Henry do 
 when you came. They would have died anyhow, 
 and what was the use to leave them there for the 
 vermin to kill? We thought, you see. Miss Eliza- 
 beth, there might be some young lady around in the 
 bottom, or on the other side of the river, that might 
 want a feather bed to sleep on with her husband 
 this winter and the jackets of these honkers would 
 do very well for that purpose, if for no other. But, 
 never you fear, I will find some use for them." 
 
 Miss Elizabeth seemed not to catch Jochen's re- 
 mark, but was busy putting the wounded swan, which 
 appeared remarkably docile, under her hands. When 
 we got home she insisted that I must attend to the 
 wounded bird at once; and upon examination, I 
 found that a couple of pellets of shot had struck the 
 extreme tip of the left wing — the last joint. The 
 wound seemed so slight that for persons not familiar 
 with the delicate balance that must necessarily exist 
 between the two wings of a bird, in order that they 
 may perform their functions, it was hard to believe 
 that it could be so injurious in its effects as it proved. 
 I cut away the tip at the first joint and protected the 
 wound securely — which it is more diflficult to do than 
 a person would suppose, as the bird is apt to interfere 
 with the bandage. The amputation caused but a 
 slight disfiguration, and that was observable only 
 from one side. 
 
 Little Yetta claimed the big white gander as her 
 own, and barely conceded one of two m*le wood 
 ducks, also winged, to Henry, as his share of the 
 morning's spoil. After breakfast I attended to them, 
 too, and the three patients were turned loose in the 
 duck pen, which Feeka uses to confine the young 
 broods of ducklings in the spring, until they are 
 large enough to enjoy the freedom of the barnyard. 
 As the pen encloses a pool of fresh water, fed from 
 the creek, there is no danger that they will suffer 
 for the want of the necessaries of life. 
 
 While busy with my patients, I heard Jochen's 
 wagon rumble over the bridge and on coming to the 
 house learned that he had left with the game for 
 town. He had selected, however, all that Miss Eliza- 
 beth thought she could make use of as presents either 
 for her own people or for her friends; and as I felt 
 very much fatigued, I took the advice of the ladies 
 and retired to my room. 
 
 It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon before Feeka 
 called at my door. 
 
 "Come, Henry, I see Jochen coming and dinner is 
 ready. Come, get up; I think you have slept enough 
 by this time!" 
 
 After dressing, I found Jochen in high glee, plagu- 
 ing the ladies about what we would do with the 
 game. 
 
 "Yes, and if I had another load of ducks I would 
 not have to throw one of them away! Not a 
 feather!" he said. He then counted down twenty- 
 one dollars and a quarter, in silver, on the table and 
 said: "There, sonny, that is what you earned with 
 your puffer this morning. Not a bad day's work, is 
 it? Here, take your money!" 
 Of course, I objected. 
 
 "But you see, sonny I dasn't touch it. You must 
 remember it is Sunday, and I would never hear the 
 last of it. Feeka would never allow me to make 
 money on a Sunday! That would never do; never!" 
 "Well, let me have it, and I will see!" said I. Then 
 I took five dollars and put it by the side of the plate 
 of Miss Elizabeth, five by the side of the plate of 
 Mrs. Hanse-Peter, five by the side of Jochen's plate, 
 one dollar and a quarter I gave to Nick; and five 
 dollars I put in my own pocket. 
 
 •"There," said I, "that is a fair division of both the 
 spoils and the sin, if any has been committed." 
 
 "That is what it is! That is what it is! Jochen 
 just wanted to hear himself talk," said Mrs. Hanse- 
 Peter. "But he would have kept every cent of that 
 money himself; yes, and would have been ever so 
 glad to do it! He might have given you some, but 
 I know we would have never seen a cent of it." 
 
 "You hear that, Henry," said Jochen, "don't you? 
 That is what all the preaching amounts to. But I 
 tell you, sonny, the next time we want to shoot 
 ducks on a Sunday we will remember this! Yes, 
 and we will not pay five or ten dollars either, to 
 get them picked up!" 
 
 "Of course you wouldn't," retorted Feeka, "if you 
 
134 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 had the ordering of it! But where did you sell them 
 that you got back so soon?" 
 
 "I didn't sell them," said Jochen. "I gave them 
 away. I gave them to Anton Fritz (Duck Fritz) 
 in East St. Louis. He will sell every tail of them 
 to the Sunday hunters before night, at three times 
 what he paid me for them. But I didn't feel like 
 peddling ducks on a Sunday, and the weather is too 
 warm yet for them to keep." 
 
 In the meantime we had sat down to the table 
 and were doing justice to a splendid meal, of which 
 ducks and geese were the main features. Before we 
 arose we heard a wagon at the gate. It was Conrad 
 Witte. After shaking hands, he remarked: 
 
 "Jochen told me that you would be over, Henry, 
 and I thought I would come down to see you." 
 
 "I am very glad you did, Conrad. Jochen told me 
 that you had been down to the prairie and I would 
 like to hear from them very much." 
 
 "Yes, I have been down to the prairie and every- 
 thing looks well. The old settlers, as they call Mr. 
 Luebke and his neighbors, are busy making rails 
 and putting up fences. They will get through in a 
 week or ten days. It takes a good many rails, some 
 thirty or thirty-five thousand, to put up the outside 
 fences alone; but then, they are making them at the 
 rate of a thousand a day, and that is no great task 
 for eight axes in such timber. Mr. Pastor has con- 
 tinued the road through their land, and it was 
 fenced on both sides, clean through to their eastern 
 line, when I left. It looks well and gives one a 
 notion what it will be when fenced all the way 
 through your property. What a pity it is that we 
 could not continue it straight on to the river! I 
 went over the ground again, because I thought we 
 had made a mistake in going by Mr. Pheyety's. You 
 see, that bend adds three miles to the distance — a 
 full hour's drive, going and coming, for every trip. 
 That is a toll of thirty cents for every load hauled 
 from the settlement over the road. As for cutting 
 down the bluff to a passable grade, that would 
 amount to nothing when compared to such a tax. 
 The 'Olle KuUe' would have done that himself if 
 he couldn't have got the neighbors to help. He is 
 putting a bridge over the slough in the bottom now. 
 He knows what it is to waste time, teams and 
 wagons on bad roads. People don't think of it. But 
 he feels it in his pocket. 
 
 "We looked it all over again together, because he 
 wanted to go straight from his settlement. But 
 there is no water — no landing. We might cut off a 
 mile, or a mile and a half, by going that much 
 farther up the river, but the stream would be more 
 likely to change up there. It's a great pity; but I 
 suppose it can't be helped." 
 
 "No, Conrad, there is no help for it — no help 
 within our power. I appreciate what you say about 
 roads. I believe myself that there is more loss 
 incurred annually from badly located and poorly 
 maintained roads than the entire public expense of 
 the country, both local and general, amounts to. 
 
 And you say Mr. Kulle is building a bridge across 
 the slough in the bottom?" 
 
 "Yes. Judge Long got him to cut out the road; 
 and he uses the heavy timber for this purpose. He 
 cut down everything in the road-way smooth with 
 the ground; and deadened a strip as wide again on 
 the south side of the road. He did this of his own 
 accord, without pay, because he wants the sunlight 
 on the road to keep it passable." 
 
 "What kind of a bridge is he building? Does it 
 amount to anything?" I asked. 
 
 "I went up there," said he, "because he wanted 
 me to look at it; and we put down a log pen in the 
 middle of the slough. This he filled with rocks to 
 keep it from floating off when the water rises. We 
 put down two more pens, one on each side, near 
 shore; and from these we laid across to the middle 
 pen three sills— three from each side — eighteen inches 
 square at the small end. These he has fastened 
 down with two-inch, well-seasoned white oak pins, 
 put in slantingly. The floor is of heavy puncheon, 
 put down loose so that they may float off without 
 lifting up the sills. You see, it is not much of a 
 bridge, but it costs nothing but the building, and 
 will answer the purpose as well as one more costly." 
 
 "See, see, Conrad, that is the difference when peo- 
 ple have a head. I told Henry the Olle Kulle would 
 chew his cud when he heard of that road!" put in 
 Jochen. 
 
 "Yes, but Jochen, he is doing much better than 
 chewing his cud, he is building the road, and that 
 is better!" 
 
 "Of course, that is what I meant. It would stir 
 him up. It will make five hundred dollars difference 
 to him a year, and he can see a dollar as far as any 
 of us. But what is that to Henry! He can see them 
 before they sprout, before they are up out of the 
 ground!" retorted Jochen. 
 
 "Every honest man who works for what he gets 
 is apt to see what is close to him; but we can not all 
 of us take in the whole world at one glance. There 
 are men gifted that way. They see how everything 
 hangs together — to-day with to-morrow, and to- 
 morrow with the week, or month to come. I have 
 always loved Henry for that. He never asked me 
 the name of a twig but he wanted to know the bush 
 or tree it belonged to; and then, for what it was 
 good, what could be made out of it, and where it 
 grew best, on what kind of land, and where that land 
 could be found. All is one for him. It all hangs 
 together. That is what I told the people down there 
 the other day, when they found that the road as laid 
 down on the paper that he sent to the court did not 
 go entirely to the river; that it stopped a quarter 
 short of the river bank. They asked me whether I 
 thought he had made a mistake. I told them that 
 was not likely, and they better not cut it out until 
 I could see you." 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you for that, Conrad. 
 I would not have that timber along the bank dis- 
 turbed for a good deal. It protects the bank from 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 I3S 
 
 caving in and it is the only thing that does. The 
 ground, of course, is intersected, filled with the 
 roots of the timber in every direction. The killing 
 of the timber kills the roots, and these in a short 
 time rot. During times of flood the entire ground 
 in the bottom is saturated, filled to its full capacity 
 with water. This as the river falls finds its way 
 through the holes in the form of springs, each under- 
 mining and thus causing the caving in of the ground. 
 To cut the timber would be the destruction of the 
 landing." 
 
 "Yes," put in Jochen, "and farms situated like the 
 landing are not worth clearing, because they wash 
 away before they pay for the work. But I never 
 knew how the thing worked. I see it now. Yes, I 
 have seen it work, too. I have seen the water squirt 
 out of the caving banks, but I never thought it out 
 how that did the caving, the undermining." 
 
 "I was sure, Henry, you had some reason, and I 
 told them so, but I did not know what it was." 
 
 "I am very glad they have not touched the timber. 
 The truth is, I had no idea that they were in such 
 a hurry with that road. I only thought of our peo- 
 ple; it never occurred to me that the folks of the 
 German settlement would be so eager to have it put 
 in shape, although Jochen mentioned it, too. If I 
 had thought that he was in earnest, I would have 
 paid attention to it. I will have the underbrush 
 cleared away at the landing, and the timber trim- 
 med up so as to prevent accidents from falling 
 limbs. But the trees and everything that promises 
 to make a tree must be preserved. They will die 
 soon enough with all the care we can give them, 
 but we will put off the evil as long as we can. Then, 
 there are other matters that want looking after." 
 
 "Yes," said Witte, "the OUe KuUe asked me to 
 find out whether you would not rent him an acre 
 of ground at the landing. He wants to put up a 
 warehouse to store things in until it is worth while 
 for steamboats to land for them." 
 
 "Of course!" put in Jochen. "That is like him! 
 He wants the corner where the road strikes the 
 river, I bet! Only an acre — and he'll pay you ten 
 dollars a year! For only one acre!" 
 
 "No, Jochen, he offered to pay twenty-five dollars 
 a year," said Witte. 
 
 "Certainly, twenty-five dollars — all of twenty-five 
 dollars — the whole of it in one pile! Yes, certainly! 
 That sounds like him! A half a town-site for 
 twenty-five dollars a year! Two hundred feet front 
 on the road! A warehouse, a wagon yard, a store 
 and room to spare for twenty-five dollars a year! 
 But Henry didn't get that land for nothing. He had 
 to pay for it; and if the Olle Kulle wants to build a 
 town on it, he will have to pay for it, too. That is 
 certain! The landing and road are for the benefit of 
 Henry's land first. He got the thing up; and it isn't 
 everybody that can run that landing. We want a 
 man there who understands our people, who talks 
 their language and can talk to the steamboat people. 
 
 too. And then, he must be a man who will live 
 and let live — not a thief." 
 
 "But, Jochen, there is nothing in Mr. KuUe's 
 proposition that interferes with anything you say; 
 and as to the amount of the rent, that is a mere 
 question of agreement. I am not compelled to ac- 
 cept the first offer made by him, or by anybody 
 else." 
 
 "That's all very well, sonny; but you must not let 
 them fellows from the settlement get a foothold on 
 your own ground. That is my opinion and Conrad's; 
 ain't I right?" 
 
 "When I come to think of it I believe you are, 
 Jochen," said Witte. "It will be better if you keep 
 that matter in your own hands, Henry. There is 
 really too much dependent on it for you. You want 
 the people on your land to prosper, and it will make 
 a great difference whether the landing and the busi- 
 ness there is conducted with an eye to this, or 
 whether it is carried on as a separate thing by per- 
 sons who try to make what they can out of your 
 tenants. If Mr. Kulle and the people from his set- 
 tlement want to use the road, that is their business; 
 but when they come to the landing, they must do 
 as you want them to, or stay away. There is no 
 doubt they will find it better for themselves, too; 
 although they may growl some at first. You know 
 how they are." 
 
 "You are both right in my judgment, and there 
 never has been any question in my mind as to what 
 to do about the landing and its control. I bought 
 the land in order to have that control, but the matter 
 had passed from my mind, as I supposed there was 
 no immediate use for it. As things have shaped 
 themselves, however, I will attend to it at once — 
 only I want to consult Mr. F , who under- 
 stands the other, the commercial side involved, bet- 
 ter than any one of us. But tell me, Conrad, how 
 is the settlement in the prairie coming on — the new 
 tenants, I mean?" 
 
 "There everything is all right. I was with Mr. 
 Pastor for ten days; he wanted me to help him. 
 We staked off the land, the road and the lanes. You 
 see, we left a lane between each of the sections so 
 that the stock can get out. The people are on the 
 land and at work — I mean, there is a family on every 
 quarter section. The cabins all stand on the road, 
 two and two opposite, one on the north and one on 
 the south side. They have wells dug, one for every 
 two houses, with very good water; and the people 
 are busy making rails. It looks well from the bluff 
 when you look down the road, for Mr. Luebke and 
 his neighbors have built two cabins for their tenants 
 on the southern quarters, on the road, too, and it 
 will look still better when all the fences are up." 
 
 "But, did you look over the half section, on the 
 bluff — the western half section, I mean? I wanted 
 you to go over it with Jochen and myself. I have 
 not determined in my own mind what to do with it. 
 It seems to me that the western half of it ought to 
 be good fruit land." 
 
136 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Yes, Henry, I have looked at it. It is something 
 like my own land. The eastern two eighties are as 
 good prairie as you have. The western two thin 
 out — where the timber is, I mean. There the soil 
 thins out on the top, but gets better as you go 
 down. I saw where the wind had blown down a 
 tree, a large oak, near a ravine, and noticed that the 
 ground brought up by the lowest roots, those that 
 went deepest into the ground, is very fine. And 
 that is the reason, Henry, that the timber there is so 
 tall and thrifty. Its roots go down to this fine 
 earth. If you plant orchards there, you must dig the 
 holes four feet deep, or more, then let the earth 
 that comes out of the holes lay during a season in 
 the sun and weather and your trees will grow well. 
 I don't know of a place where they would grow 
 better. If you could turn the whole of it up side 
 down, some three or four feet deep, I thinlc I would 
 prefer it to any other land. What do you think of 
 it, Jochen?" 
 
 "What you say, Conrad, is right. I remember 
 when I worked for Mr. Pheyety, we dug a cellar 
 and some of the dirt out of the hole rolled against 
 some young trees, apple and peach trees. Two or 
 three years afterward I went to see the people and 
 noticed that the trees that had been covered a foot, 
 or eighteen inches deep, with the dirt — and which 
 Mr. Pheyety thought at the time might hurt them — 
 had grown twice as well as the rest. But I never 
 thought about the lower dirt being richer, as you 
 say. You see how it is, Henry; a man that works 
 a piece of land, he finds out all about it, as I told 
 you before. Conrad Witte knows more about the 
 bluflf, Kulle about the prairie, than I do, or twenty 
 like me; but when it comes to the American Bottom 
 I can talk, too!" 
 
 •I then explained to Conrad that Jochen and myself 
 had planned a trip to the bluff, and had expected 
 him to go with us. but as he had been kind enough 
 to give so much time already to my affairs, and had 
 also given me the information which I needed, I 
 felt that it would be imposing on good nature to 
 ask anything further." 
 
 "That is not right, Henry. You know you can 
 not impose upon me and you must not feel that 
 way. I like to be with you and I always did." 
 
 I now asked Jochen about our return to the city, 
 but found that Miss Elizabeth had wandered off with 
 •the children, and we were detained for some time 
 over our coffee before they made their appearance. 
 We soon got ready, however, and after saying "good- 
 bye" to Conrad and Feeka, enjoyed the drive behind 
 the colts with more than usual zest. 
 
 Worried over my Sunday's trip all the evening. 
 
 October 3, 1856. 
 Still pegging away, as the shoemaker would say, on 
 my duck hunt — but am nearly through. There is 
 nothing in it, and yet I don't feel like losing it. 
 What a pity we have no implement to record such 
 occurrences automatically, without our attention, but 
 
 up to date the only thing of the kind we have is the 
 human mind itself, and it can not do it without 
 attention. The trouble is the rubbish, the detail, 
 and without that we have empty abstractions. The 
 thing I want is a photograph, and what I get is a 
 shadow. But, as it is a shadow of a shadow, I sup- 
 pose it is good enough for the object presented. 
 
 A new experience made itself felt in regard to this 
 shooting. I never have killed game to sell; and 
 when Jochen came back and offered me the money 
 he had received for the ducks and geese, it somehow 
 did not feel right. It seemed as if there was blood 
 on it. I have no feeling of this kind when I kill 
 game for my own use. Neither do I attribute any 
 value to the senseless twaddle indulged in by per- 
 sons calling themselves sportsmen, the froth and 
 scum of civil society, who want to pervert the arena 
 of man's life into a playground for idlers. Still I am 
 not cut out for a market hunter. 
 
 It is questionable also whether such indiscrimi- 
 nate slaughter ought to be permitted on account of 
 the skill in gunnery, which is calculated to be de- 
 veloped in the community at large by the preva- 
 lence of game. This skill is no small item, when 
 considered from a political point of view. It cost 
 Europe much in time and money to train its armies 
 to an effective use of the gun. 
 
 October 4, 1856. 
 
 Finished at last. Was struck with the remark of 
 Mr. Witte about the immense tax that is paid by the 
 people at large on account of bad roads. The tax 
 is paid in kind, as one might say, and indirectly at 
 that. This is the reason, no doubt, that it is sub- 
 mitted to with so little objection. With this example 
 before us, it seems to me that we ought to avoid 
 all indirect taxation in party government — I mean, 
 not in the governing of a party, but in the govern- 
 ing of a people, through party organization or ap- 
 pliances, for the nature of such institutions requires 
 vigilance on the part of the citizen, and nothing is 
 better calculated to arouse his attention as the pre- 
 sentation of a bill of so and so many dollars for 
 services rendered — while indirect taxation takes his 
 money when "He isn't a looking." 
 
 I was also interested in his saying "That some 
 people look at everything as a whole — for them 
 everything hangs together." To me this means that 
 they deal with things, beings and events instead of 
 abstractions, for each thing, being or event is a 
 unit, containing within it quantity, quality and char- 
 acteristics either peculiar to it or peculiar in their 
 aggregation. These hang together in it and outside 
 of it they fall assunder — are quantities, qualities, 
 characteristics — abstractions. 
 
 But there is another sense in which the remark, 
 "Everything hangs together," can be taken. These 
 things, beings and events themselves hang together 
 — form a unit of units. In this sense the individual 
 thing, being or event has a cause of which it is the 
 eflfect. Its presence here presupposes that cause. On 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 137 
 
 the other hand, although it is an effect of some pre- 
 cedent cause, it is also cause of other things, beings 
 and events. It is by virtue of this peculiarity that 
 it is not isolated, does not stand alone in the world. 
 If there were a thing, being, or event in nature in 
 the aggregate of objects that present themselves to 
 our intelligence that did not possess both of these 
 peculiarities, it would be a finality — if it were merely 
 effect without being also cause, or if it were neither 
 it would be absolute independent totality. So it 
 would be if it were both together. 
 
 But it is this peculiarity that enables us to inquire, 
 if we stand in the presence of the thing, being, or 
 event: What does this presence here presuppose? 
 Or what does this presence here imply? What pro- 
 duced this state of affairs and what will they pro- 
 duce? How does this come to be as it is and what 
 will come of it? Or, in the language of logic, each 
 thing, being, or event is a conclusion from pre- 
 ceding premises, and premises for a succeeding con- 
 clusion. 
 
 It was of interest to me to hear an innocent 
 farmer from Illinois speak with apparent, or implied 
 appreciation of one of the fundamental principles of 
 human knowing, which is far from being valued by 
 the learned world, as far as I can see. 
 
 A letter from friend H- 
 
 October 5, 1856. 
 -, the coming editor. 
 He wants to spend his vacation with me in the 
 woods — a good place to come face to face once 
 more with fact. Have written to him that the 
 woods, 'round about here, are of considerable size, 
 and that there will be, in all likelihood, room enough 
 for both of us. 
 
 Had a consultation with Mr. F and his 
 
 brother in regard to the management of the landing. 
 We concluded to defer definite arrangements until 
 after our trip, which we have laid out in such a 
 way as to include a visit to the property. This was 
 done at the instance of Mr. F , and will inter- 
 fere to a certain extent with my own plan of recrea- 
 tion. But I don't propose to be cheated. I need 
 and will have my annual loaf in the woods. Our 
 outfit is ready and the start will be determined by 
 the prospects of the weather. Jochen was in to- 
 day and says we are "Burning daylight." He 
 
 brought me a saddle of venison for Mr. F , 
 
 which is certainly very fine. 
 
 Closed a contract with Mr. Olflf on account of 
 
 Mr. F in regard to the patterns for the coal 
 
 cooking stove. 
 
 "They will cost thirty-five per cent less than any 
 set of patterns in the shop of the same ^ize, and be 
 
 worth ten times as much," said Mr. W , in his 
 
 peculiar way, when anything suits him. "We could 
 sell stoves to-day at cost, that is, what they used to 
 cost us when we were working with the old patterns, 
 and make more money than we did then. A man 
 has some satisfaction to go through the shop after 
 the day's work is shaken out of the sand. I haven't 
 
 seen a strained flask nor a piece of scrap on Jake's 
 floor since he commenced with your patterns. That 
 is what I call work as is work! And then, look at 
 the time! Your one man does more work than 
 any three we ever had in the foundry, and that with- 
 out a word being said. Two-thirds of the patterns 
 for the new parlor stove are in the sand to-day, and 
 by the time the old gentleman and yourself get 
 back I'll have the stove mounted. But say nothing 
 
 about that to Mr. F . I want to surprise him. 
 
 He is always on nettles, from the time a thing is 
 begun until it is finished. He will tinker and bother, 
 watch and count every stroke of the file when the 
 stove is being mounted. Bless you, there won't 
 be any filing on that stove! The plate fits, isn't 
 strained out of shape — because the boys have pat- 
 terns, and they know it. Yes, and they know that 
 I know it, too. 'Strained plate, gentlemen, goes into 
 the scrap-pile!' That is business, Henry!" 
 
 And so he ran on — nor could I blame the man. 
 It is his life, his task in life. Should he not rejoice 
 at the successful performance? Is not the task as 
 worthy as any that life presents? True work, and 
 to see that true work is done^ — are not these the two 
 functions that include the whole possibilities open to 
 man? 
 
 October 6, 1856. 
 
 Elizabeth and I took tea at Mrs. F 's, where 
 
 we talked over the details of our trip. The good 
 
 lady is making preparations as if Mr. F was 
 
 going on a thousand mile journey. She doesn't know 
 that he will never be over an eight hours' drive from 
 his own house. To her the woods are all out of 
 doors — an illimitable, unknown world, and a man is 
 utterly lost that dares to enter its confines. The 
 truth is, nothing would be easier than for him to be 
 in daily communication with her. But neither of 
 them know, nor are they likely to find it out from 
 
 me, as Mr. F will know it soon enough after 
 
 camp is located. I want him isolated from his 
 business, for a few days at least, or as long as possi- 
 ble. I have persuaded her to act upon the old say- 
 ing "No news is good news," as long as we are 
 gone; that is to say, she is to be perfectly certain 
 that her husband is well and comfortably situated 
 until she hears from me and I have promised that 
 if anything should occur to the contrary, she shall 
 know it at once. 
 
 In the meantime, I have made arrangements for 
 Jochen to take one of his hired men, with an extra 
 horse, who will leave camp the morning after we 
 are established and call at Mrs. F 's that eve- 
 ning. If nothing unusual has occurred in the family, 
 he will return to camp the next day, but if anything 
 has happened, in the way of sickness, or the like, he 
 will take a fresh horse and return at once. This 
 service will be kept up while camp lasts, so that I 
 will hear from the city every other day, and as much 
 oftener as may be necessary. How often Mr. 
 F may hear will depend on circumstances. 
 
 "And how often will I hear from you, Henry?" 
 
138 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 asked Elizabeth, when I explained these arrange- 
 ments to her, in justification of myself for assuming 
 
 the responsibility of taking Mr. F away from 
 
 the care of his wife, which she thought I ought, 
 perhaps, to have avoided. 
 
 "You will hear from me as soon as I return, dear- 
 est. Of course, I have to practice what I preach. 
 
 You see, Mr. and Mrs. F have agreed to take 
 
 no news as good news — as long as they don't hear 
 from each other, they both know that they are well — 
 and I have as much confidence in you and your love 
 for me as Mr. F has in his wife and her affec- 
 tion for him." 
 
 "That sounds very well, Henry, but it seems to me 
 that it will be a little lonesome. I think you might 
 write to me, especially when you will have such good 
 opportunity to send your letters!" 
 
 "Yes, I might and perhaps I will when I find out 
 how it feels to be away from you. At present, how- 
 ever, it seems as if it implied a want of confidence 
 to be always reiterating the same story. It is pleas- 
 ant to hear that I am loved, and the ear seems in- 
 satiable, but does not this gluttonous appetite spring 
 from fear lest the feast turn to a fast? What can I 
 write except 'I love you!' What can you answer 
 but 'I am glad of it; I love you, too!' Whatever 
 the phrase might be, this is the meaning, and this 
 meaning has grown into my heart, has become one 
 with it — is me, my innermost self, which scorns 
 distance and time alike. You are with me wherever 
 I go, and I remain in your heart though oceans rolled 
 between us. That we are not suffering for want of 
 each other's personal help is the only fact that I must 
 be certain of when at a distance from you, and this 
 I have provided for to the full extent that it can be 
 done. If such a misfortune should happen, you com- 
 municate with Mrs. F ; and she will know how 
 
 to reach me in the shortest possible time; and I 
 promise you that if I need your presence I will send 
 for you at once. In this way we will not have to 
 count the minutes until the mail arrives and assures 
 us that all is well. We know that all is well until 
 we are informed to the contrary." 
 
 October 7, 1856. 
 Mr. W. H. arrived this evening and Mr. F- 
 
 expressed himself as gratified to have him as one of 
 our company. 
 
 "I will only be a guest," he remarked, "and what- 
 ever suits my Dutch host will suit me, for the time 
 being. He has palmed himself ofif for a Dutchman, I 
 suppose, but that is a fraud. He is neither Dutch, 
 Irish. English nor of any other nationality. He left 
 home too early to have a nationality bred into him; 
 and is a citizen of cloud land, as near as I can make 
 ..it out — without creed or party," said Mr. H . 
 
 "If he is, he is remarkably well acquainted with the 
 affairs of every day life. He must be an immigrant, 
 or a visitor up there, and considerable of a traveler 
 here below," answered Mr. F . 
 
 "A mere somnambulist, a sleep walker — asleep 
 
 with his eyes wide open, and wandering about when 
 sound asleep! The only way we had of waking him 
 up at school was to tempt him with a slice of a 
 conic section, or the like — something that nobody 
 cares for, or knows anything about," retorted Mr. 
 H . 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. F , "I have noticed. He doesn't 
 
 seem very fond of threshing straw." 
 
 "Not unless I enjoyed ithe prerogative of selling 
 the chaff, at the rate of a nickel a platter, like our 
 friend, Mr. H ," said I. "The fact is, gentle- 
 men, there Is no occasion to Indulge In speculation 
 as to who is, or who is not adequate to meet the 
 world flat-footed — to step out and say — 'I have a 
 right to exist, and propose to have the means neces- 
 sary for that existence. Stand aside, you, there, and 
 let me live, too!' We are about to go into the forest, 
 into the primitive condition of our predecessors, and 
 there this question will decide itself." 
 
 "Nothing of the kind!" replied Mr. H . "That 
 
 settles nothing! That is a mode of life in which 
 any wood-hawk can beat you, or the best of us! A 
 practical man is one who draws the greatest profit 
 from his talents, skill or property — from whatever 
 he has to dispose of, and enjoys life as it comes." 
 
 "I see," said I, "and that is the reason, no doubt, 
 that all animals seem so happy. They never fail to 
 turn their exertions to the best account, and their 
 paunches once filled, life's problem is solved for 
 them." 
 
 October 8, 1856. 
 
 Wrote to Mr. Fromme, requesting a postponement 
 of the dedication of the school house — if it was de- 
 sired for me to speak to the people on that occasion. 
 
 Took dinner with my dear one and said "good-bye" 
 at parting — which was delayed beyond what I in- 
 tended. 
 
 Over-hauled my medicine chest, amunitipn box 
 and tailoring outfit. Before I got quite through Mr. 
 H called and we had a pleasant evening, re- 
 hashing old scenes of college days. This led to an 
 inquiry on his part as to my present mental occupa- 
 tion. I gave him a brief outline of my financial 
 mishap, its consequences and its present status. 
 
 "And you are doing nothing in the way of study? 
 What has become of your Aristotle, your Plato, your 
 Hegel, and the world of poets that used to claim you 
 alternately with them? All gone to the rubbish pile — 
 where they belong — I suppose. Of course, Henry, 
 that is the natural course. I was satisfied all along 
 that a man with your good sense would see what such 
 things amount to, as soon as he came in contact with 
 the practical world. They do well enough to fill up 
 the idle hours of youth, but when we become men 
 we want something that will enable us to meet the 
 day and fight its battles. I heard them compared 
 once with a tad-pole's tail, that drops off when the 
 tad becomes a frog. A very good comparison, I think! 
 When we become men we leave such things behind 
 us." 
 
 "Yes, I saw that comparison, too, and I think it an 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 139 
 
 excellent one; but not quite in the sense in which 
 the author used, or you repeat it. The tad-pole's tail 
 doesn't drop off at all," said I. 
 
 "No, what becomes of it then? You never saw a 
 grown frog with a tail?" he replied. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I have! The horned frog of the south- 
 west has a tail. But that is not the question. You 
 ask what becomes of the tad-pole's tail? I answer, 
 it remains and forms the back bone of the frog. As 
 soon as the hind legs appear, the pelvis, to which they 
 are attached, is pushed, in the process of growth, 
 down the tail, which remains what it was from the 
 first, the spinal column of the animal. With this fact 
 understood as it exists in nature, I think the compari- 
 son a most excellent one. The thinkers and seers to 
 whom you referred as fit for the rubbish heap are and 
 constitute the back bone of the intellectual life of 
 our race. The insight of the author of the compari- 
 son into that life was no doubt as clear as his 
 knowledge of the phenomenon he used to illustrate 
 it; as accurate but neither I apprehend deserve, or 
 will bear close examination. 
 
 "As for me, Mr. H , they, the thinkers and 
 
 seers of our race, form my companions and will do 
 so through life. If you look behind that curtain 
 there you will find that their works never left me, 
 even at a time when I had but one-quarter of a 
 dollar to spare for a case to preserve them in." 
 
 "I see," he said, lifting the curtain. "All the old 
 trumpery still intact. But what is this?" opening my 
 note book. 
 
 "That," said I, "contains the debris of my life. I 
 put it down in order not to forget my chirography." 
 
 After reading a page or so he called out: "Henry, 
 you must let me have this. I want to read it." 
 
 "That is hardly practicable, Will," said I. "I need 
 the book every day. Besides, if I were to do so, you 
 might use it against me as an instance of my want 
 of practical sense. It would not be acting on your 
 principles. It would not be the way to draw the 
 greatest profit from my talents." 
 
 "Well, how do you propose to utilize it?" he asked, 
 still reading. "Do you suppose anybody will under- 
 take to print your book without having read it first — 
 buy a pig in a poke?" 
 
 "Hardly. But, who wants it printed? I can read 
 my own writing. I put down these notes for my own 
 use. It frequently happens that a thought presents 
 itself to my mind in the manner of a small glimmer 
 of light — through a crevice, or a knot-hole. If I note 
 it down, I can examine it afterward. By applying the 
 eye to the crevice I can see the full radiance beyond; 
 but if I let it pass, or hurry on without further heed, 
 I lose the prospect it is likely to reveal." 
 
 "Yes, just like you! I venture to say — let me see." 
 He turned a dozen or two pages over at a time, and 
 read: "I was going to say that there is stuff enough 
 in these papers to make a book that would sell like 
 hot cakes, if you had the practical sense to select 
 out what the public wants and throw your con- 
 
 founded metaphysics to the dogs. It is the most 
 amazing thing." 
 
 "What? That I am not like you? You seem to 
 mistake the whole matter. That is not a book. They 
 are thoughts and happenings as they occur to me; 
 not such thoughts and occurrences as somebody else 
 wants to read. That Is matter that doesn't concern 
 me. I am not an editor of a newspaper. When I 
 am down in the shop I work to supply a public 
 want, like you do in your shop or office; but when 
 I write these pages I do not make, I do not manu- 
 facture; I record and consult no want but the want 
 of fact, the want of truth." 
 
 "Well, don't you work in the shop to make 
 money?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then, if you could make money by taking this 
 material and working It up Into a salable book, would 
 you be doing anything else than what you are doing 
 now — making money?" 
 
 "No; not as to the making of money. But you 
 know there are people who have some choice about 
 the manner of making money. When I was molding 
 griddles and skillets in the shop, for example, I felt 
 perfectly sure that the money I made was honestly 
 earned. I gave a thing of actual value to the com- 
 munity in return for the value I got. But I neither 
 was, nor am quite sure yet, that by making a sala- 
 ble book I would be doing the same thing. You 
 see. Will, there are a variety of ways of making 
 money, without getting into the penitentiary, that are 
 distasteful to me, and I would not pursue them if 
 I had the skill to do so with success." 
 
 "You think, I suppose, that it is more honorable 
 to drudge as a mechanic than to labor for the enter- 
 tainment of the public?" 
 
 "Well, yes, to a considerable degree. Not that I 
 believe it is so regarded by the public entertained; 
 but in my view of things it is so, decidedly!" 
 
 "Of course, and I suppose the pay is better, too!" 
 
 "Well, that depends upon how we look at pay. In 
 dollars and cents the clown at the circus receives 
 more than any of the tent stretchers, but whether his 
 occupation is more profitable than theirs is not de- 
 termined by the number of dollars and cents re- 
 ceived. When an occupation tends to the moral, in- 
 tellectual and physical health of the operative, small 
 pay goes a great way to make his life human, and 
 when it tends to the moral, intellectual and physical 
 degradation, large wages, even the highest, are no 
 compensation." 
 
 "Certainly! Always judge of things by rules that 
 nobody else regards, thinks of, or attaches the slight- 
 est value to! But, I tell you what we will do, Hal! 
 You're going to take this with you to camp?" 
 
 "Yes; I have to, or rely on my memory more than 
 I have a right to do." 
 
 "You bring it along and I will glance over it on 
 rainy days. I see some new things in it, and perhaps 
 we can turn some of it, at least, to account." 
 
 Immigration is an economic necessity. Hence the 
 
140 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 significance of the improved transportation facilities 
 to the future of the race. They will enable man to 
 take possession of his homestead, the earth. They 
 will enable the individual to do this, and make him 
 a conqueror co-equal with Alexander of Macedon. 
 
 October 9, 1856. 
 Located camp on the outflow of the big spring, 
 about four miles below, or west of the road from the 
 city to Mr. Pheyety's — where it discharges into a 
 lake. Jochen had been here yesterday and selected 
 the place. Have no time to-night to note down any- 
 thing. 
 
 October 10, 1856. 
 
 Camp was fully arranged last night, in time to 
 give us leisure to look over the ground. There was 
 really nothing left to be done except to pitch our 
 tents and arrange our sleeping accommodations. 
 
 Jochen, as soon as we had determined to break for 
 the woods on Monday morning, took his man, Nick, 
 and a wagon last Saturday evening and drove down 
 to the spring — without saying a word to anybody. 
 Sunday morning he followed down the spring branch 
 until he found where it empties into the lake, or 
 rather where its bed has been widened and deepened 
 by some side flow of the river during a flood, and 
 where its water loses all perceptible current. Here 
 he found a piece of high ground, between a dense 
 brier thicket on the north and the bank of the creek, 
 on the south. Parallel with the latter lay an old 
 sycamore log, about six feet in diameter and more 
 than forty feet long. Across this, and at right angles 
 with it, he had felled two large trees, one a walnut 
 and the other a burr oak; cut them off twenty feet 
 from the butt, rolled them in position, so that they 
 formed the two . sides, east and west, of a square, 
 which was closed by the sycamore on the south. On 
 the north side of this we pitched our two tents, front- 
 ing them south, and against the sycamore as a back 
 log. we built our fire. 
 
 "You see, I thought I saw some sign of rooters 
 (hogs) about and it might be convenient to have a 
 little something to prevent them from nosing around 
 in camp. How do you like the place?" was Jochen's 
 explanation. Inquiring about his choice of ground. 
 
 "It is excellent," said I. 
 
 "Yes, it looks well, if there is anything to shoot 
 about here," said Mr. H . 
 
 "Well, I don't know about that. You may have 
 to go some distance for that. But then you and 
 Henry, there, are young; you wouldn't mind a tramp 
 of ten or fifteen miles before breakfast; and as for 
 
 Mr. F and myself, we may have some fun 
 
 catching minnows in the pond there, back of the 
 fire," said Jochen, with a very straight face. 
 
 "You think there are any fish in that water?" asked 
 Mr. F . 
 
 "Little ones; some young ones, I think. You see 
 the lake is long and deep and the minnows like to 
 come up here to the spring water, where there is 
 
 some current for them to play in. Nothing but little 
 ones, though! That is all!" 
 
 "I'm sorry for that. I used to be fond of catching 
 fish," said Mr. F . 
 
 While they were talking I had looked over the 
 water, and when I saw the eddy by the side of the 
 current of the spring branch, where it loses itself in 
 the deep water, I asked Jochen, "What size are the 
 minnows you expect to catch?" 
 
 "Well, I don't know, Henry. They might weigh 
 a couple of pounds or so. Of course, you may 
 catch some bigger ones; you have a windlass to wind 
 them ashore with." 
 
 "If that is the kind of minnows," said Mr. F , 
 
 "we can catch" — he was interrupted by Mr. H , 
 
 who rushed off toward the wagon and called out: 
 "Pat, give me my gun, quick! Confound it! We 
 stand around talking! Quick, Pat! The ammunition 
 box! The best shot that ever I saw!" A flock of 
 mallards had caught his eye. They had been sun- 
 ning themselves on the northern shore of the lake 
 and came up nearer to investigate the unusual intru- 
 sion. 
 
 While he was busy with Pat, rummaging in the 
 wagon for his shooting apparatus, I rigged up a 
 
 pole for Mr. F to catch some "minnows." 
 
 When I asked Jochen where he had his minnow 
 bucket, he said: "Just give me that large tin cup and 
 I will see whether there are any left. I brought a 
 few yesterday — but how did you know?" 
 
 "Oh, well, it doesn't rain fish scales around here. I 
 saw where you cleaned your catch yesterday." 
 
 "Of course, of course! You don't leave your eyes 
 at home; no, not likely to when you go a hunting!" 
 
 I then stepped down with Mr. F to an old 
 
 tree that had fallen into the lake, about a hundred 
 yards below camp, the top of which, partly decayed, 
 reached into the eddy. I walked out on the log and 
 tried among the limbs for crappie. Found they 
 were at home and without making a catch I asked 
 Mr. F to come out. 
 
 "There are fish here and good ones," said I. 
 
 "But how can I get out on that log?" 
 
 "Coon it," said I. 
 
 "Coon thunder, Henry!" 
 
 So I stepped back and led him up to the big fork, 
 where I had fixed a place for him to sit. 
 
 "Now," said I, "Mr. F , if you catch any 
 
 fish put them into this basket; and when you get 
 tired, call and I will come for you. I must attend 
 to the tents and things." 
 
 I turned to go, when he called out: 
 
 "Look at that! Bless me, just see that crappie!" 
 
 I looked around and he was taking off a pound 
 and a half crappie from his hook. 
 
 "That looks well for minnows," said I, and kept 
 on. Before I got out of sight, however, he hallooed: 
 
 "Here is his mate, Mr. B !" 
 
 "All right," said I, "just go ahead; we will have 
 some for supper!" 
 
 In the meantime, Mr. H had gone down to 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 141 
 
 the lake and the reports of his gun indicated that it 
 might require something less than a ten or a fifteen 
 mile walk before breakfast to find something to 
 shoot. 
 
 "Who is that fellow, anyhow; he seems mighty- 
 green?" asked Jochen. I explained to him who Mr. 
 
 H was. 
 
 "Can he kill things on the go?" 
 "Not every time, I expect. That requires more 
 practice than he has had opportunities to acquire. 
 But he is a good fellow — much better than he 
 knows." 
 
 We soon got our tents up. Our own we pitched 
 
 on the east and Mr. F 's on the west side. We 
 
 dug them 'round, fixed the bedding, placed Mr. 
 F 's camp chest in position and had three- 
 quarters of an hour of sunlight to spare. This I 
 devoted to getting supper ready — and all this time 
 
 I heard nothing from Mr. F . 
 
 When everything was ready for the fish I stepped 
 down to the log to see what he was doing. 
 
 "How is it, Mr. F ; haven't you caught 
 
 enough for supper yet?" 
 
 "Come and see! I think — ^yes, with this one," he 
 said, pulling out another fish. 
 
 "All of a size?" said I. "I suppose they quit 
 biting after I left? They will do that sometimes." 
 
 "But not this time," said he, hauling up the basket. 
 "There is enough there to last us a week, if you can 
 keep them." 
 
 "That is a small matter; we will attend to that," 
 said I, taking the basket. 
 
 "No, don't take it away. You bring me some 
 minnows. I want to fish as long as I can see and 
 as long as they will bite." 
 
 "All right, Mr, F . I will take what I want 
 
 for supper and send you down some minnows. But 
 remember, after the horn blows, supper waits for 
 nobody!" 
 
 I returned to the fire and after cleaning the fish, 
 blew the horn. I heard him grumble, but could not 
 make out what he said. I then remembered that he 
 could not walk the log, and calling Pat to attend 
 to the frying pan, went down to help him ashore. 
 But when I got in sight, he was walking the log 
 as steady and straight as an old frontiersman — his 
 pole in one hand and the heavy basket of fish in the 
 other. 
 
 "That is a very good send-off," said I, "Mr. 
 
 F . If that is the way you take to the woods, 
 
 there is no danger but that we will' have a good 
 time, and a profitable one at that." 
 
 "I think so, Henry. But, bless me, have you any- 
 thing to eat? I am as hungry as a wolf," he said, 
 wiping the sweat from his face. 
 "Let me have that basket." 
 
 "No; but you may catch hold on the other side; 
 it is a little heavy for me. Tell me, can you keep 
 these fish alive until to-morrow morning?" 
 "Yes, for a week or a month! Why?" 
 
 "I'm going to send them home to my wife, by 
 Pat. We can get along without him to-morrow; 
 and it will be such a treat to her. Besides, it will 
 make her feel easy to know how nicely we are fixed" 
 — glancing at his tent, with the bed made up, and the 
 cover turned down. 
 
 "That's all right, Mr. F , but not exactly in 
 
 line with our agreement. However, if you insist on 
 it, I suppose it can't be helped; but there is one 
 thing that you have promised that you must stick 
 to." 
 
 "What is that?" 
 
 "Pat must not go near the foundry." 
 "No, he shall not. It must run itself the best way 
 it can. You're right about that, Henry, and I will 
 do as I promised you." 
 
 I gave the finishing touches to our supper while 
 he washed, and then we sat down to eat. 
 
 "But what has become of Mr. H and 
 
 Jochen?" he asked. 
 
 "I think Mr. H.-P has gone after Mr. 
 
 H . He knows the bottom is not the safest 
 
 place in the world for a city bred man to ramble in. 
 Persons not accustomed to the woods are liable to 
 get lost in such ground. Generally, when they go 
 out hunting, as soon as they get outside of the smoke 
 of the camp fire they hunt themselves." 
 
 "That is manners, I suppose! Never wait a 
 minute for absentees; and they as hungry as starved 
 
 sharks!" broke in Mr. H , coming from between 
 
 the tents. 
 
 "Camp manners, Mr. H ; camp manners! 
 
 Victuals can't wait for anybody in the woods! The 
 appetites about will not let them. What luck?" 
 
 remarked Mr. F . 
 
 "Killed a few birds; a few. Mr. Hanse-Peter is 
 bringing them in. I had enough to do to bring my- 
 self. Tired as I can be and hungry! I never knew 
 what hunger was until now!" 
 
 "Why, yes, you did kill a few and didn't walk 
 
 ten or fifteen miles either," said Mr. F , as he 
 
 saw Jochen throw a load of mallards, sprig-tails and 
 teal on the log — "Heavy enough for a mule," as he 
 remarked. 
 
 They needed no invitation, but as soon as washed, 
 assisted us manfully to clean up the board, which 
 consisted of one of our fence logs nicely hewn flat 
 on the upper side. As soon as supper was dispatched 
 and Jochen had built the evening fire — "had fired a 
 
 log heap," as Mr. F remarked — we had to 
 
 listen to Mr. H , relating his exploits in the 
 
 field. Each individual duck of the pile had a history 
 —how and where he saw it first; how he slipped 
 up on it, with the brush, old log or big tree that 
 served for cover; and how, after it was shot, it 
 flopped about, crawled into the grass or brush, or 
 made for the water, where the mud was deepest. 
 But the unusual exertions of the evening persuaded 
 bedtime to come around quite early and with 9 
 o'clock the camp fire was deserted. After retiring I 
 remembered Mr. H 's ducks. The talking about 
 
142 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 them all the evening had made him quite forget that 
 they required some attention. But he was "sawing 
 wood" already, as Jochen would say, and I rose to 
 look after them myself. 
 
 "What is it, sonny? Have you forgotten some- 
 thing?" asked Jochen. 
 
 "No; but Mr. H did not attend to his game, 
 
 and it will not do to leave it on the log. There 
 would not be a feather left of it by morning." 
 
 "Never mind, Henry; I hanged them up. They 
 are all right," said he, and I turned in again. 
 
 October ii, 1856. 
 
 A slight frost this morning, and the sun rose 
 bright in the clear, crisp sky. Before that, however, 
 Jochen and myself had breakfast ready, and when I 
 
 aroused Mr. H with the announcement, he 
 
 grumbled a good while before he came to his senses 
 enough to bleat out — "Why in thunder can't you let 
 a man sleep! I just got to dosing and here you 
 must make fuss enough to raise the dead. Why 
 don't you go to bed like the rest." 
 
 "We thought we would eat breakfast first!" said 
 Jochen. "Then, we wouldn't have to get up so early 
 in the morning!" 
 
 "Is that you, Mr. Hanse-Peter! Ask your pardon; 
 
 I thought it was that everlasting owl, Mr. B . 
 
 But why don't you come to bed? I have been dosing 
 already." 
 
 "Shouldn't wonder a bit, you had. You were puff- 
 ing and blowing like a steamboat coming around a 
 bend at 9 last night and it is 6 now," said I. 
 
 "What is 6?" called out Mr. F from his tent. 
 
 "The clock!" said I, and gave a blast on the horn 
 as last call for breakfast. 
 
 "What on earth are you doing, Henry? You are 
 not in earnest, are you?" he asked. 
 
 "'Tis broad daylight and breakfast is waiting. 
 Here, take this; it will help you to hoist your eye- 
 lids," I added — handing him a cup of hot bouillon. 
 "This is the last cup but one of your medicine; and I 
 have to go and get simples this morning to brew 
 some more. I was thinking that perhaps you might 
 want to go with me." 
 
 "Well, this beats all the sleeping potions that I 
 have ever tried. I don't think I turned over once 
 during the whole night. What time is it, really?" he 
 asked, drinking his bouillon. 
 
 "It is past 6, as I told you. Come, here is a basin 
 of water, fresh from the branch. It will take the 
 weight from your eyes." 
 
 While I was busy convincing Mr. F that it 
 
 was really daylight, or nearly so, Mr. Hanse-Peter 
 
 had done the same for Mr. H , but the latter 
 
 insisted on having some warm water to wash with. 
 
 "That's all right, just help yourself. The branch is 
 close by, and there are plenty of live coals in front 
 
 of the back log," said I. "With Mr. F it is a 
 
 different matter — he is my patient," I added, by way 
 of explanation. 
 
 "Pat, Pat, bring me my gun!" he hallooed, when he 
 
 got to the creek. "The ducks are flying as thick as 
 bees!" 
 
 "I should like to see that," said Mr. F ; at- 
 tempting to leave the table. 
 
 Well, suppose it was a hewed log, it served our 
 purpose, and if it had a little more timber in it than 
 necessary, that did not detract from its value. 
 
 "Sit still," said I, "Mr. F , or come and take 
 
 this seat and you can see all the ducks you want. 
 Come on this side of the table, where you have them 
 between you and the morning's sky." 
 
 "I wish Mary was here to see that!" he said, look- 
 ing up. "Could you kill any of them?" 
 
 "Yes, he will drop them into the pot if you ask 
 him," put in Jochen. 
 
 "Not quite," said I, "but I certainly can drop all 
 we want into camp. But we have all we can use, 
 and those killed last night are better than any that 
 I might kill now." 
 
 "But I should like to see you shoot some, anyhow," 
 Mr. F persisted. 
 
 "All right; as soon as I am through eating break- 
 fast." 
 
 We resumed our meal while Mr. H was 
 
 arousing the echoes, "shooting with unwashed face 
 and hands," as Mr. F observed. 
 
 Before I got through eating, Jochen had brought 
 our guns and was loading. I stepped some fifty 
 yards to the east of camp and commenced dropping 
 the birds into the enclosure, about as fast as Mr. 
 F could gather them into a heap. 
 
 "Just pitch in," said Jochen. "If Mr. F 
 
 sends his wagon to town, we don't need to let them 
 spoil on our hands." And I shot until the sun was 
 fairly on the bluflf, when the flight commenced to thin 
 out. 
 
 I quit shooting and asked Jochen to bring Mr. 
 F 's fish from the box. 
 
 "What made you stop, Henry? H will beat 
 
 you. He is still busy," said Mr. F , when I 
 
 returned to camp. 
 
 "We have birds enough in all conscience; and I 
 don't kill because I can, but because I have use for 
 the birds, animals or fish," I replied. 
 
 When Jochen came I set about and bled the fish. 
 
 "What are you doing now?" he asked. 
 
 "Butchering your catch, Mr. F . There is no 
 
 occasion to eat strangled fish any more than there 
 is to eat strangled animals. You will find a marked 
 difference in the meat as to flavor, and more as to 
 its healthfulness. The draining out of the blood puri- 
 fies the meat- from all unassimilated elements, and 
 also from all effete tissue, which was in course of be- 
 ing eliminated from the body at the time of its death. 
 This latter is poisonous in its effects upon the 
 organism from which it is expelled, and must neces- 
 sarily be injurious to us when taken into our system 
 as food." 
 
 I now cleaned the fish carefully, gave them suf- 
 ficient salt, for table use, but no more; and put them 
 in hay — after they were wrapped in clean napkins. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 143 
 
 I then culled out the ducks that were serviceable for 
 
 Mrs. F 's own table and tied the rest, pair 
 
 wise, with tags attached, directed to the different 
 
 parties to whom Mr. F desired to present 
 
 them. 
 
 When nearly through Mr. H came in, and 
 
 although not loaded down, still both he and Pat 
 had all the birds they could conveniently carry. 
 
 "Well, who beats?" he called out, with a species 
 of triumph in his voice. 
 
 "Beats what? There was nobody shooting but 
 yourself. I dropped a few birds into camp here, to 
 
 satisfy Mr. F that it could be done; but I did 
 
 not shoot over twenty minutes," said I. 
 
 By this time he had looked into the wagon and 
 changed the subject without further remark. 
 
 "Confound it. Have you anything to eat? I can 
 eat an alligator!" 
 
 "Alligators are out of season, but there are some 
 scraps left from qur breakfast," said Jochen. 
 
 While they were eating, Jochen hitched up Mr. 
 
 F 's team; I wrote a note to my dear one; and 
 
 Mr. F did the same to his wife. 
 
 When the wagon had left Mr. F asked: 
 
 "What are we going to do now, Mr. B ?" 
 
 "I am going to lie down to rest," said Mr. H , 
 
 "I am tired out. I feel sore all over." 
 
 "Yes, no wonder! Rearing around like a chicken 
 with its head cut oflf! Come, I will give you some- 
 thing that will help you to get over your soreness," 
 said I, and handed him some pills, containing a full 
 dose of quinine. 
 
 "What is it," he asked. 
 
 "It is a tonic; and not an argument, nor the 
 material for one. I know it will do you good. If you 
 don't believe me, don't take it." 
 
 "Just listen to him, Mr. F . He puts on all 
 
 the airs of a regular M. D. Does he treat you in the 
 same way?" 
 
 "I have been living on his prescriptions for the 
 last three months, and don't know yet what they 
 contain, any more than if I had got them filled at 
 a regular drug store," answered Mr. F . 
 
 "All right, I will swallow without asking any 
 question — like other people, when they are drenched 
 by the quacks." 
 
 He took the pills, laid down in his bed and I saw 
 to it that he was well wrapped up. 
 
 "You will find three or four hours rest very agree- 
 able, and also beneficial, provided you keep thorough- 
 ly warm. Nothing assists the recuperative powers 
 after unusual exertion like warmth." 
 
 I then asked Mr. F to get his gun and said 
 
 we would go and look after those simples for his 
 medicine; while Jochen would see whether he could 
 resupply the minnow bucket and look after a mouth- 
 ful of lunch, by the time we got back. 
 
 The sun now had taken the chill out of the woods 
 and the squirrels were beginning their morning meal. 
 We walked up the north, or camp side of the spring 
 branch, where I had noticed a liberal supply of sweet 
 
 mast — white, burr, basket and cow oak acorns, with 
 some red bud; together with hickory nuts of the 
 large swamp nut variety, when we came down the 
 other day. There was also some hackberry, and it 
 was not long before we came on turkey sign. Our 
 shooting commenced in sight of camp, as our pres- 
 ence had not as yet caused the game to change their 
 haunts, as they are apt to do if the intrusion con- 
 tinues for any length of time. My object, of course, 
 
 was to interest Mr. F ; and it was not long 
 
 before he was fully aroused. As soon as he sighted 
 a squirrel he rushed after it until he had it treed. 
 Then he would wait until I came up to turn it for 
 him — that is, he would stand still, in convenient 
 distance of the tree, while I walked around to the 
 other side. This would cause the squirrels, in order 
 to avoid me to run under his gun. In this way he 
 bagged what we wanted in a short time, but before 
 we quit, he Insisted that I must do some shooting, 
 too. 
 
 "That's all right, Mr. F ; shooting is noth- 
 ing new to me. You saw me practice a little this 
 morning; and I think we have done enough for to- 
 day. To enjoy our recreation, and to derive the 
 full benefit from the time we are going to spend 
 here, we must control ourselves for a few days. To- 
 morrow we will do more, and the day following 
 more than to-morrow. In that way we become used 
 to our new work and new mode of living; and by the 
 end of the week we can do as we please — literally 
 as we please!" 
 
 "You're an old hand at this thing," said he, "and 
 if you say it is best to quit, we will go to camp. 
 But where are the simples we were to look for?" 
 
 "They are safe in our pockets. The old squirrels, 
 too tough to fry or broil, are the raw material to 
 make the bouillon out of." 
 
 "But how did you disguise the flavor? It seems to 
 me, I have eaten squirrels enough to educate my 
 palate. I ought to be able to detect the taste no 
 matter how they are prepared," said he. 
 
 "That is the simplest thing in the world. One 
 day's reading ought to teach anyone to give what- 
 ever flavor is desired to any dish." 
 
 "And where did you get that ham which we had 
 for breakfast? I have never tasted anything like it; 
 and I don't feel the slightest inconvenience from it." 
 "If I had supposed it would give you trouble, I 
 wouldn't have prepared it for you," said I. "It 
 came from Jochen's smoke-house, or rather hay mow. 
 He raised, cured and preserved the meat himself." 
 
 "Well, there is no telling. Here in the west it is 
 customary to run down anything that is Dutch — as 
 they call it. Of course, I pay no regard to such non- 
 sense; but certainly I would not have looked to a 
 Dutch smoke-house for ham fit to eat." 
 
 "That is because you have been away from the 
 east a good many years. There everybody knows 
 what a Westphalia ham is, and this is nothing more. 
 The meat was raised here, it is true, but the man 
 that handled it is a Westphalinger, and the result is 
 
144 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 a better ham than ever came from that country — be- 
 cause the raw material is better. Nor is there any- 
 thing strange about that. If you want to learn how 
 to put up meats, vegetables and the like, go to a 
 people who are compelled to provide annually for 
 long seasons of dearth, for long periods during which 
 nothing is produced, and you are most likely to find 
 methods that furnish the best results; for the race 
 of man is the same the world over; he is taught by 
 necessity how to provide against it." 
 
 Talking thus, we sauntered back to camp, picking 
 up a squirrel now and then, as they came in range 
 of my gun. Noting the easy way in which this was 
 done, he remarked: 
 
 "You don't run after them!" 
 
 "No, I let them do the running." 
 
 "But why did you let me run after them all morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 "I supposed you wanted the exercise; and that, I 
 take it, is of more value to us than all the squirrels in 
 the woods. But when I want meat, and nothing else, 
 I don't raise a hullabaloo about it, notifying all the 
 inhabitants of the woods of the fact! I keep it to 
 myself; get to their feeding, play or loafing ground, 
 with as little noise as possible, and when there my 
 gun is the only thing that talks." 
 
 With this we reached camp and found Jochen in 
 his glory. He was sitting near the eastern end of 
 our back log, swinging black bass into camp out 
 of the spring run. He was fishing where the run- 
 ning meets the still water — of all places the most 
 favored by that fish as feeding ground. 
 
 "You see, I floated that chunk into place," refer- 
 ring to a dry log on the water that reached from 
 bank to bank, and which had a considerable field of 
 scum collected in front of it — "the other day — and 
 see that!" as his float went down in the scum, as if 
 drawn by the suction of the stream; and he hoisted a 
 fine bass, with a jerk as if he intended to land it in 
 one of the tree tops. But instead, he swung it across 
 the eastern fence log into camp. 
 
 "Come, Mr. F ; you want to try it? — I must 
 
 make another live box or we will lose our fish. 
 
 "You catch your own fish, Mr. Hanse-Peter. We 
 have taken a long tramp and want some rest before 
 we go to work again. How are we off. for min- 
 nows?" 
 
 "We have all we want. But I didn't know that 
 sitting on a stump and catching fish was work. It is 
 rest to me, Henry." 
 
 "Certainly, but what is rest for one is work for 
 another." 
 
 "Have you anything to eat? That is what 
 interests me," said Mr. F , as he entered camp. 
 
 "Just look at that, Henry," pointing to five or six 
 bass flopping about by the side of the eastern fence 
 log. 
 
 "They are for dinner. I think I have enough. I 
 just wanted to catch a couple — but I forgot, they 
 bite so well," said Jochen, while gathering up his 
 fish and putting them in the box. 
 
 -? Is he still in 
 
 "What has become of Mr. H- 
 bed?" asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Was sawing wood the last heard from," answered 
 Jochen. 
 
 While Jochen arranged lunch I attended to our 
 
 game, and showed Mr. F how to handle the 
 
 simples for his medicine. 
 
 "You are not going to use all of these squirrels 
 for one pot of soup?" 
 
 "Oh yes, Mr. F ; and to-morrow we will 
 
 have some more, because you will have help to dis- 
 pose of it. I never drink anything else when I am 
 in the woods." 
 
 Jochen now blew the horn right at Mr. H 's 
 
 ear — "into it," as the latter maintained, and we sat 
 down to lunch, which consisted of potatoes, roasted 
 in the ashes, with some of Feeka's butter; light 
 slices of baked ham, broiled over hickory coals; a 
 
 cup of bouillon for Mr. F , coffee for Messrs. 
 
 H.-P and H , and nice fresh water for 
 
 myself. 
 
 "What luck did you have this morning?" asked Mr. 
 H . "Any meat in camp?" 
 
 "Mr. F killed a fine bunch of squirrels." 
 
 "How many?" 
 
 "Some twenty odd." 
 
 "Is that all? What did you kill?" 
 
 "Time; and Mr. Hanse-Peter, fish." 
 
 "I see how it is, Mr. F . Mr. B is go- 
 
 ing to give us an illustration of his superior prac- 
 tical sense. You remember, he said that our trip 
 would show who had the most of it. He has 
 brought us along to do the hunting and fishing for 
 camp, while he pokes the fire, smokes his pipe and 
 talks wisely about the habits of fish, birds and animals 
 — of all creation, in fact, if he can get anybody to 
 listen to him. I have a notion not to fire another 
 shot until he brings some meat into camp, too." 
 
 "That's all right, Mr. H . Now, if you just 
 
 could do the talking, I would be very willing to 
 swap work with you. But what do you know 
 about the habits of fish, birds and beasts — not to 
 speak of the habits of the universe! 
 
 "Your talk would be like your shooting! If some- 
 body locates you in the home of the game and you 
 have to defend your camp against it, keep from being 
 run over by it, you can shoot, and you call it hunt- 
 ing — bringing meat into camp. But just wait a day 
 or two, when the game has located you, when it 
 quits hunting you, and you have to hunt it — then 
 you will find that a little knowledge about its habits is 
 not altogether superfluous." 
 
 "That's the time, I suppose, you'll step in and 
 save the camp from starving," he retorted. 
 
 "No, I don't suppose it will come to that, for as 
 long as the big spring runs that stream of water 
 there will be fish in the brook. They can't change 
 their home like the game. But I venture to predict, 
 you can't find a duck to-day — none at least worth 
 going for — on the same ground where you killed 
 such a fine bag yesterday evening!" 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 I4S 
 
 "You scared them away, I suppose, by shooting all 
 over that ground this morning." 
 
 "That is precisely what I said just now! Your 
 talk would be like your shooting — haphazard. Of 
 course, we go on duck ground to hunt squirrels! 
 Squirrels are very fond of mud and water; they like 
 to paddle in the one and dive in the other!" 
 
 "Where did you go, Mr. F ? Didn't you go 
 
 down the lake?" he inquired. 
 
 "No, I don't think so. We started east, up the 
 branch, with the sun in our faces. But then I 
 couldn't say where we went; only I know I didn't 
 see anything of the lake," answered Mr. F . 
 
 "Very well. Fll see about the ducks then this 
 evening. I feel rested just enough." 
 
 Lunch ended, Mr. F retired to his tent, 
 
 where I covered him up with the warm blankets that 
 had been exposed to the bright sun shine all morn- 
 ing. Then I cleaned my gun and culled out some 
 buck shot — enough for a charge or two. 
 
 "What are you doing there? Aren't the shot all 
 alike?" asked Mr. H . 
 
 "Not quite; and a couple of defective pellets are 
 enough to spoil a whole charge for me. I like to 
 have something to rely upon when I go for large 
 game. It is not every day that you get a shot and 
 when you do, you want to kill. When you get a 
 shot evei-y five or ten minutes, it doesn't mako so 
 much difference." 
 
 I then took a stroll on the other side of the 
 spring branch, which I crossed on one of Jochen's 
 bridges — a tree which he had felled across it — 
 merely to get possession of the ground, that is, a 
 knowledge of it. On my way back I killed an addi- 
 tional bunch of squirrels and had a shot at a turkey, 
 but lost the bird. When I reached camp I found 
 Mr. F andi Jochen catching bass and crappie. 
 
 I set about preparing dinner, but before the horn 
 blew Mr. H came in with rather a disap- 
 pointed look on his face. 
 
 "Where is your game," I asked. 
 
 "Game! I saw nothing to shoot!" he answered. 
 
 "No? That is strange." 
 
 But I caught myself. I saw that he was not in 
 the humor to laugh at his want of "luck," as they call 
 it — want of sense, as it appears to me. 
 
 "Never mind. Will," said I, "I have found a place 
 where we can have some shooting in the morning. 
 I knew that the birds would leave here; but they 
 are not far oflf." 
 
 October 12, 1856. 
 
 Had a remarkable illustration to-day of how a 
 foregone conclusion will stand in the way of suc- 
 cess in practical no less than in mental operations. 
 In my ramble yesterday I noticed where turkeys had 
 watered at a puddle of rain water, which they, in 
 common with other birds and animals, seem to prefer 
 to spring, creek or river water. On my way back 
 to camp, while shooting squirrels in the neighbor- 
 hood, I came by the place about the usual time of day 
 
 when these birds drink at this season of the year. 
 Without much precaution I sauntered along and 
 came upon the birds unexpectedly — still, I got a 
 shot at one, but at long range. At the crack of the 
 gun the bird dropped its wings, partly, and ran down 
 a trail which led to a brier patch, some three or 
 four hundred yards off. I had examined this black- 
 berry orchard on my way out and knew that it had 
 been used by turkey hens as feeding ground for 
 their broods during the summer months; and as it 
 was quite extensive and very dense, I concluded that 
 the wounded bird was making for that familiar cover, 
 and that it would be quite useless to follow it, as 
 it would be entirely safe from capture after it 
 reached its protection. So I merely looked after it 
 as it raced down the trail until it switched around 
 a large white oak, that stood in the straight line of 
 the _ path, and around which the trail bent with a 
 sharp curve. Here I saw the flop of its wing, as it 
 made the turn, and the bird was gone. I followed 
 along mechanically up to the spot and as I could see 
 the brier thicket, in full view from the other side 
 of the oak, I turned off to the right and made for 
 camp. 
 
 In the course of the evening Mr. H remarked 
 
 that he thought a nice young turkey would be quite 
 acceptable for our table, as a change. I told him 
 that I had shot one that evening but lost it. 
 
 "The bird," said I, "got into a brier patch, where 
 it is impossible to follow it." 
 
 In the course of an hour or so Mr. F came 
 
 in from his fishing; and as he got in hearing distance 
 Mr. H called out: 
 
 "What luck, Mr. Fisherman?" 
 
 "Not much," said Mr. F . "The fish didn't 
 
 bite very well this evening." 
 
 "They didn't get into a brier patch, did they?" 
 asked Mr. H with a glance at me. 
 
 "What do you mean, Mr. H ? You don't 
 
 find brier patches in the water, do you?" answered 
 Mr. F . 
 
 "How do I know? Henry here came home and 
 told me that he shot a turkey, but lost the bird 
 because it got into a brier patch. I didn't know but 
 what you lost your fish in the same way — I mean, 
 the fish you didn't catch!" 
 
 "No, Mr. H , I don't know enough about the 
 
 sport to lose fish that I don't catch. It takes more 
 experienced hands at the rod to do that." 
 
 The evening was a pleasant one around the roar- 
 ing camp fire, although the night promised to end 
 with a heavy white frost. Before we retired to our 
 
 tents I asked Mr. H whether he would like to 
 
 have some shooting in the morning. 
 
 "There is a lake," said I, "about a mile southeast 
 from here, where I saw some ducks this evening; and 
 I looked over the ground to see how to get in range 
 of them. There is also a 'buck run' between here 
 and there and I thought of walking up to the lake 
 in the morning and keeping an eye on that deer 
 
146 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 ground on my way up. If we have a frost tonight the 
 deer are likely to be about later than usual, and I 
 may be able to show you one, at its best, as nature 
 made it, in its native surroundings — but if we don't 
 see any deer, we are sure of having good duck 
 shooting at the lake." 
 
 "That would suit me first rate, Henry; if I can 
 get up early enough. What time do you start?" 
 
 "Four o'clock, sharp. I will see to it that you 
 have a cup of coffee by that time, and we will eat 
 breakfast when we return." 
 
 This was agreed to on retiring last night, and by 
 4 o'clock this morning we started from camp. I 
 succeeded in landing him safely across the foot log, 
 and after cautioning him not to lift his feet too high, 
 but to slide them along the ground on account of 
 some small cypress knees along the border of the 
 lake, a belt of ground we had to cross, we reached 
 the high ground, from which we were in sight of 
 the buck run, by fair day light. This run skirted a 
 field of switch cane, some hundred or a hundred and 
 fifty acres in extent, the hiding place of the does, 
 ■which secrete themselves from their lawns in such 
 cover at this season of the year — during "weaning 
 time." We were slipping along quietly, when I 
 recognized the place where I shot the turkey yester- 
 day; and remembering the remark of Mr, H , 
 
 which seemed to indicate a sad lack of faith on his 
 part, I pointed it out to him, with the remark: 
 
 "Over yonder, at that big tree in the path, I lost 
 sight of the bird, after I shot it." 
 
 "Which tree, Henry?" said he. 
 
 "This one — come I will show you; and also the 
 cover to which this trail leads," said I, and walked 
 up to the tree. 
 
 "Just here, as it switched around this, I saw one 
 of its wings flop— and that is the last I saw of the 
 bird." 
 
 "But what is that, Henry?" said he, pointing to one 
 side. 
 
 "That," said I, "is my bird," and — picking it up — 
 "none the worse for its cold night's lodging." 
 
 The bird was shot through the lungs; it had run 
 a hundred, or a hundred and twenty-five yards and 
 toppled over, in full sight, right before my eyes. Still, 
 so confident was I that it had reached the cover, 
 for which it was making, that I could not see it, 
 although I had passed within five feet of it more 
 than once, and it exposed in full sight. Yes, that 
 brier patch in my mind proved as effectual to hide 
 the bird from my eyes as the real one in the forest 
 could have done if it were much denser than it is, 
 and the bird in the very center of it. What an ob- 
 struction to sight such a brier patch in the mind 
 can be to a man! 
 
 After some debate with Mr. H , who wanted 
 
 to carry the bird with him, I hung it on the shady 
 side of a large elm, and we continued our walk up 
 to the lake — keeping in sight and fair shooting range 
 of the buck run, however. After we had followed 
 
 our direction perhaps a quarter of a mile, I saw 
 glinting through the open woods, at the farther visi- 
 ble end of the run, the form of a deer — apparently 
 running from us. I tried to point it out to Mr. 
 
 H , but before I could do so it was out of 
 
 sight. 
 
 "You're as bad as a 'wood-hawk.' You can see 
 more deer in the woods than trees. I see nothing." 
 
 This referred to some unsuccessful attempt he had 
 made on a former occasion to get sight of game by 
 employing a back woodsman to go with him in 
 order to point it out. But he had hardly uttered the 
 last word, when he broke out: 
 
 "No, Henry. I see it, too; it's a little one!" 
 
 He had kept looking in the direction which I had 
 pointed out, while I had been examining the other 
 parts of the run, thinking the deer gone for good. 
 But as he spoke my eye caught the deer, and I said: 
 
 "No, Mr. H . Little ones don't carry such 
 
 horns. Kneel down here; he will pass us in reaching 
 distance, and when he gets into that opening yonder 
 straight ahead, between these two trees, you let him 
 have it." 
 
 In the meantime the buck came down the run in 
 an even, sweeping gallop, and as he passed the 
 opening which I had pointed out, I shot — but to my 
 
 surprise, Mr. H didn't bring the gun to his 
 
 face. 
 
 "Why didn't you shoot?" I asked. 
 
 "At that distance, Henry? You might as well 
 shoot at the moon. What good would it have done? 
 You see what you did!" 
 
 "What did I do?" 
 
 "You shot and made him run faster. He just slap- 
 ped his tail between his legs and was gone, in the 
 twinkling of an eye." 
 
 "Just so, Mr. H . That is the reason I did 
 
 not use the second barrel. But I think he is my 
 meat." 
 
 "Your meat?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Why don't you go and pick it up then?" 
 
 "Oh, well, we will first go and see about the ducks. 
 After that it will be time enough to look after the 
 buck." 
 
 "You will never find this place again; and if you 
 are sure you killed the deer, why don't you go to it? 
 What do we care for ducks if we have the venison?" 
 
 "We want both, and I don't think it is time yet 
 to go for the deer." 
 
 After some further talk he followed me, although 
 reluctantly, to the lake. Here we had good shoot- 
 ing — "Better than I ever saw, Henry!" — he remarked. 
 I had placed him in some fine cover, at one end of 
 the lake, and I went to the other. As he shot the 
 birds came to me, and when I shot, they went to 
 him. 
 
 After we had seasawed them awhile, and had all 
 the birds on the ground that we could make any 
 possible use of, I stopped the fun by going to him. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 147 
 
 'Mr. H- 
 
 -," said I, "it is time we take care of 
 
 our birds. I will draw and hang them up; and when 
 we come for the deer, the rest can help us with them 
 to camp." 
 
 "What are you talking about that deer for, Henry? 
 I tell you, you will never find the place again where 
 you shot at it — let alone the deer!" 
 
 "Oh, well; there is no harm in trying. Just come 
 along. Our duck shooting is over, anyhow." 
 
 And so we started. After following me for some 
 distance, until we were out of sight of the lake, he 
 said: 
 
 "Henry, you're not going in the right direction. I 
 marked the road we came carefully — the place where 
 you shot at the deer is up this way," pointing in a 
 direction that made a right angle with the true one. 
 
 "I reckon not, Mr. H . But, if you think 
 
 you can find the place over there, you may try it — I 
 am in a hurry to get to my deer." 
 
 "I will show you," he said; and off he started to 
 the left. As the woods in that direction were open, 
 so that he could not get out of my sight before I 
 would reach the place, I let him go and kept on to the 
 spot from which I shot. When I reached there I 
 picked up an apple, which he had placed on a stump 
 as a mark, and called to him at the top of my voice: 
 
 "Mr. H , come here and get your apple!" 
 
 When he heard me call, he stopped; and when I 
 repeated my words, and held up the apple, he came 
 toward me. When in talking distance he asked: 
 "What apple?" 
 
 "The one you hid on that stump, so as to be sure 
 that I didn't fool you. I saw you put the apple there, 
 but didn't say anything. As I did not intend to 
 deceive you, I was glad you marked the spot. But 
 when a man hunts deer he generally has, or ought 
 to have, his eyes with him, and if he has, he is apt 
 to see what happens about him. Now, here is the 
 mark of my knee in the ground where I knelt when 
 I shot, and there is yours; and yonder is the opening, 
 between the two trees, where I shot the buck." 
 
 "That is so, Henry. But I thought you would 
 pretend that you killed the buck and would get 
 him — if you could only find the place from which 
 you shot." 
 
 "Just so, Mr. H . But we have found the 
 
 place, and now we will see what has become of the 
 deer." 
 
 With this I walked down to the spot where the 
 deer was when the gun fired. After looking over 
 the ground he remarked — "I see no juice." 
 
 "No, Mr. H . Not likely; because I shot a 
 
 shot gun; but keep back a little; I have to follow his 
 track." 
 "His track, Henry — in these thick leaves?" 
 "Yes, don't you see it there?" 
 
 "That! I could pick up a hundred leaves, cut just 
 the same way." 
 
 "Well, look here then," I said, kneeling down and 
 lifting the leaves carefully from the ground until 
 the track beneath them was exposed. 
 
 "That does look something like it might be a deer 
 track — but what is that?" he asked, pointing to a 
 bright, red, full drop of blood on a leaf, a step or so 
 further on. 
 
 "That is blood," said I, picking it up. "And what 
 kind of blood do you take it to be, Mr. H ?" 
 
 "Well, I suppose it is deer blood." 
 
 "Of course it is deer blood. But what kind? Is it 
 arterial or venous?" 
 
 "What difference does that make? It is deer blood, 
 and shows that you hit him, I suppose." 
 
 "The difference that it makes is that the loss of 
 arterial blood is liable to be fatal to the animal, 
 while the loss of venous blood is not. This is arterial 
 blood; the animal is struck through the lungs or 
 aorta, and he is my meat." 
 
 "Look at that!" he remarked, pointing to a gulp 
 of blood the buck had spit out, and which had spat- 
 tered about over the leaves, where it hit the ground — 
 "he must have stopped there!" 
 
 "No, he did not, or the blood would not be spat- 
 tered about in that manner." 
 
 All this time we were following along the trail, 
 but when we got about one hundred yards from the 
 
 place where the shot struck the deer, Mr. H , 
 
 by this time quite interested, not to say excited, 
 called out: 
 
 "Look, Henry, look at that! Just see the blood" — 
 pointing to a pool that covered a space fully the size 
 of the seat of a common chair. 
 
 "Yes, that is where he stopped," said I. 
 
 "But he couldn't have gone very far with such a 
 loss of blood?" he added. 
 
 "No, I suppose not, and that is the reason he 
 lies there, in the grass, by the side of that log. 
 Don't you see him?" 
 
 "Thunder, yes, and dead as the log itself! Isn't 
 he a fine fellow! — Henry, how the mischief is this?" 
 
 "Quite natural, Mr. H . The buck was shot, 
 
 as you saw, without having been alarmed, or made 
 aware of the presence of danger. Under these 
 circumstances he ran a hundred yards, or so, then 
 stopped to reconnoiter, and not finding anything to 
 excite his fears, and the weakness from the loss of 
 blood inclining him to quiet, he laid down at the 
 first convenient place that offered. Had I rushed 
 down here when you wanted me to, the deer would 
 have been alarmed, taken to the switch cane, run 
 until he fell, exhausted from the loss of blood, and 
 we, being without dogs to track him up, would have 
 gone to camp empty handed." 
 
 "Well, this beats anything!" 
 
 "No, there is nothing in it but the application of 
 common sense to a practical situation. I shoot an 
 animal. It either falls on the spot, or it makes ofT. 
 If the former, I hasten to take full possession of it; 
 but if the latter occurs, I keep perfectly quiet, so as 
 not to cause the fear of me to overcome the pain 
 and injury caused by the wound. The animal, find- 
 
148 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 ing it is safe from pursuit, soon yields to the natural 
 desire for quiet, as every motion is painful. Even 
 a slight wound is sufficient to enable the hunter to 
 get in another shot — if he manages properly. His 
 conduct will be governed, of course, by the facts 
 presented in the case at hand. If, after the proper 
 time has elapsed, his examination of the ground 
 convinces him that the animal is dead, as the finding 
 of arterial blood in this instance convinced me, he 
 proceeds to look for his meat, without any further 
 precautions. But if he concludes that the animal is 
 only slightly wounded, and therefore only more or 
 less sick, he will practice all his skill and precaution 
 to get the fatal shot before he again disturbs the 
 game." 
 
 "Stop your gassing, Henry, and look at his horns! 
 How many points do you count him?" 
 
 "It is a five point buck, in backwoods phrase, of 
 the long-tailed variety, usually called Virginia deer, 
 and he is m prime condition. His tail at the root is 
 a handful sure enough." 
 
 "What has that to do with his condition?" 
 
 "It indicates that condition better than any other 
 part of the carcass. If you cannot feel the bone in 
 the tail of a deer, you may rest assured you have 
 fine venison." 
 
 And now commenced a debate about what to do 
 with the buck. The first condition, Mr. H in- 
 sisted on, was that I must not touch the deer with 
 the knife until Mr. F had seen it. 
 
 "That means," said I, "that Mr. F must come 
 
 here; because no two men can carry that buck to 
 camp as he lies there; and I hate to leave him ex- 
 posed to the cats and wolves while we go for Mr. 
 F ." 
 
 "Why not let me go? Camp is right over there!" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Over there!" pointing west, while camp was a 
 point or two north of east. 
 
 "Yes, you would have a fine time striking camp 
 
 in that direction. If you insist that Mr. F 
 
 must see the buck in his natural form, I think it will 
 be best for you to stay here and let me go for him. 
 I should like for him to enjoy the sight myself." 
 
 "That wouldn't do at all! Suppose you should get 
 lost, too, and I, you say, can't find camp; that would 
 leave us in a nice pickle!" 
 
 "All right, Mr. H . Then suppose you take 
 
 a seat there on that log and let me attend to busi- 
 ness." 
 
 With this I turned the buck on his back, opened 
 him and removed the viscera. After this I turned 
 him face down to let him drain; while I cut a gam- 
 brel stick and placed it in position. I then cut a sub- 
 stantial fork and selected a convenient hickory sap- 
 pling. This I bent down with my weight by climbing 
 it, and requested Mr. H to hold it in that posi- 
 tion while I lopped off the head and drew the 
 gambrel stick over the point until it rested in a fork 
 between a limb and the body of the sapling. This 
 done, I placed the fork against the sapling, im- 
 
 mediately below the gambrel stick and told Mr. 
 
 H to let go and instead of holding down, 
 
 lift up. With the sapling and Mr. H lifting 
 
 and myself pushing on the fork, we succeeded with 
 our utmost exertion in swinging the buck some four 
 feet clear of the ground. 
 
 "Now," said I, "Mr. H , let us go for help, 
 
 for I suppose you are convinced by this time that 
 we need it, if we want to get the deer into camp 
 whole." 
 
 "I can carry my half — but if you say so, let us go." 
 
 "How would it be to take a couple of dozen 
 ducks, if you are so eager to carry something; I 
 will have to take the turkey; and that is enough for 
 me," said I. 
 
 "Leave the deer in the woods and lug ducks into 
 camp! Not much!" 
 
 When we reached camp it was past I o'clock, and 
 
 Mr. F and Jochen were stretched on their 
 
 backs, enjoying their noonday rest. The latter, 
 however, was soon on hand and served us a right 
 
 welcome lunch — "breakfast," as Mr. H insisted. 
 
 Before we got through eating I heard the rattle of 
 a wagon and a few moments later Pat hove in sight 
 
 driving Mrs. F 's carriage horses. At first I 
 
 did not notice them, my attention having been attract- 
 ed by the load, which consisted of a splendid flat 
 bottomed fishing boat, that the good lady sent to 
 her husband, with the injunction — "To keep off the 
 dead logs in the water." 
 
 Of course, this brought Mr. F to his feet, 
 
 in spite of all I could do; and when he saw his 
 wife's team, he asked: 
 
 "Pat, how did you come to take those horses?" 
 
 "It was the mistress, your honor, that wanted me 
 to. She thought your horses were tired and these 
 would go faster — but then, she would need them by 
 day after to-morrow, sure; and I must tell your 
 honor that!" 
 
 "Yes, I see. Afraid I might not send in to-morrow, 
 I suppose. And that boat — What do you think of it, 
 Henry?" 
 
 "I think it is capital; although we could have done 
 without it. But it comes in quite handy just now; 
 it will save us some lugging." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "We killed a fine buck this morning" — put in Mr. 
 
 H . "And I did not want that heathen to cut 
 
 him to pieces. I wanted you to see him just as he 
 fell." 
 
 "Where is he?"— asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Hanging to a tree, out in the woods somewhere. 
 He swung him up to keep the vermin from him, as 
 he said." 
 
 "But, who is 'we'?" — asked Jochen. 
 
 "We both ought to have shot, but I was afraid of a 
 quarrel. You know, Henry would have argued until 
 doomsday that his gun killed and mine missed — and 
 
 so I didn't shoot," said Mr. H . 
 
 * "Were you with him when he shot?" asked Mr. 
 F . 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 149 
 
 "Within two feet of him." 
 
 "And you did not shoot for fear he would claim 
 the deer?" 
 
 "Well, I thought he would argue about it!" 
 
 "But that is not like him," said Mr. F . 
 
 "He had the buck ague, Mr. F — , that is all!" — 
 
 said I — "but, Mr. H.-P , what did you mean by 
 
 asking 'who is we'?" 
 
 "Well, I didn't know. Judge Bailey's son went out 
 fire hunting one night. He took one of the hired 
 men with him to carry the torch. After they had 
 tramped around for some time, Mr. Bailey saw the 
 eyes of a deer, shot and killed it. When they came 
 up to the game the hired man said: 'Didn't we get 
 him nicely?' 
 
 "'Who's we?' said young Bailey; 'I killed that 
 deer!' After they had taken care of it they went 
 looking for more, and soon got another shot. But 
 when they got up to it, it turned out to be one of 
 Judge Bailey's fine colts. After looking at it for 
 some time, young Bailey said: 'Now, didn't we play 
 thunder!' 'Who's we?' — asked the hired man. You 
 killed that colt!' And so it has become a kind of 
 saying in our neighborhood — 'who's we.' " 
 . "That was natural," said I, "but who was that 
 hired man? Was it not yourself?" 
 
 "It might have been. I worked for the old judge 
 at the time." 
 
 We now unloaded, then launched the boat and. 
 started to bring in our game— that is to say, Mr. 
 
 F , Mr. H , Mr. H.-P and myself, 
 
 leaving Pat in charge of the camp. 
 
 We launched the boat and I rowed the party down 
 the lake until opposite the place where I had left the 
 deer, as near as I could judge, as I had not marked 
 the spot on shore, not knowing at the time that we 
 had a boat to assist us. Of course, this led to the 
 
 usual debate between Mr. H and myself as to 
 
 the direction in which to look for our game. This 
 grew warmer as we approached the spot, so that he 
 was on the point of turning off to the left when I 
 caught him by the arm. 
 
 "What do you want?" he snarled at me. 
 
 "Rub your nose against the buck, that has been in 
 full sight there for at least a hundred yards back!" 
 
 This concluded the argument with a "jerk" — as 
 
 Mr. H.-P remarked; and now he and Mr. 
 
 F must carry the deer to the boat — no use of 
 
 talking. Yes, and there was the stick, a nice hickory, 
 on which to swing it, after they had tied the four 
 feet together. While they were busy preparing 
 their load, Jochen and I went for the ducks, and in 
 coming back I picked up a dry mulberry, some four 
 inches through, and long enough to answer the pur- 
 pose. I leaned it against a tree, with the remark to 
 Jochen: "That would do well to carry the buck on." 
 
 "Yes," said he, and we went on with our ducks to 
 the boat. « 
 
 "What in the world has become of them fellows," 
 asked Jochen, when we saw nothing of them at the 
 boat. 
 
 "You did not expect that they would carry that 
 buck down here on that stick, did you?" 
 
 "No; but then I thought they would have sense 
 enough to get a stick that wouldn't bend double 
 
 with every step they take! To hear Mr. H 
 
 talk, one would think he knew it all!" 
 
 "That is his trade. If he did not know how to 
 rob a hen roost better than the fellow that makes a 
 living at it, how could he report the grand achieve- 
 ment, with such an air of intelligent superiority as 
 to make it interesting to his readers? But come, let 
 us get our deer." 
 
 We took the trail which I had blazed through the 
 switch cane, but neither heard nor saw anything of 
 them. When we got to the place where we had 
 left them, they were gone, deer and all. Fortunately, 
 they had left a pretty plain trail, leading off in a 
 direction almost at a right angle to the right one — 
 straight down the lake. They had zigzagged along, 
 and at every few steps we found a resting place. 
 After following for about a quarter of a mile we 
 heard them in the cane, ahead of us, debating about 
 the direction of the lake. 
 
 "I tell you it is right there, ahead of us! You 
 see that opening in the timber!" we heard Mr. 
 H exclaiming. 
 
 "Well, I will go and see. There is no use in try- 
 ing to lug this load any further, unless we are going 
 in the right direction," answered Mr. F . 
 
 "Confound it! I believe that scamp just did it 
 purposely. He knows that we are not familiar with 
 the woods; and then that load! 'Tis enough to break 
 
 the back of a mule," Mr. H soliloquized, 
 
 while Mr. F was crashing about to investigate 
 
 the opening ahead. 
 
 "You stay here and enjoy the fun," said I to 
 Jochen, "while I step back and get that mulberry. 
 
 Don't let them go ofif any further. Mr. F must 
 
 be worn out by this time. I will be back in a few 
 minutes." 
 
 "What is the hurry, sonny. Just let them sweat. 
 We have plenty time to get home for supper. I 
 haven't seen as much fun since the last circus," said 
 Jochen. 
 
 "That opening yonder is nothing but a cane patch, 
 
 Mr. H ; where the stuff grows fifteen feet high. 
 
 I propose we stay where we are until Mr. B 
 
 comes. We have missed the trail and are just as 
 likely to go away from the boat as to go toward it. 
 
 Do you think he will find us here?" said Mr. F , 
 
 returning from his exploration. 
 
 "There is no danger of that; he will find us; but 
 what I hate is to give the scamp the advantage over 
 us. He's as proud of his wood-craft as a 16-year- 
 old miss of her curls, or her first beau! He thinks it 
 IS a great proof of practical sense to be able to find 
 his way through a jungle." 
 
 "Well, Mr. H , I tell you, my impression 
 
 of Mr. B is entirely different from yours. 
 
 I regard him as one of the most practical men that I 
 have ever met. He has his weaknesses, that is, it 
 
ISO 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 seems so to me, at least sometimes. But then, when 
 you listen to him, you can not be sure that it is a 
 weakness — his faith in the future development of 
 this country, I mean! He has his theories; but then 
 they always lead straight to realities, and such 
 theories are not so bad. I venture to say, he has a 
 theory about his wood-craft, as you call it, and I 
 wish we had a little of it now, that we might be able 
 to find the lake." 
 
 I left them talking and went for my stick. When 
 I returned they were still resting and Jochen was 
 doubled up on his log with fun. 
 
 "Halloo, Mr. H ! Where are you going with 
 
 that buck? Trying to slip it off into the cane break? 
 I killed that deer for camp! I don't want you to hide 
 it out!" I called out on approaching them. 
 
 "You may take your confounded deer; I have 
 had enough of it!" he said, with his left hand nursing 
 his right shoulder. 
 
 "What's the matter with your shoulder," asked 
 Jochen, with great concern. "Has a wasp stung 
 you? They are very bad sometimes; but not half as 
 mean as that fellow over yonder with a blaze in his 
 face." 
 
 "What is it, Mr. H.-P ?" 
 
 "A hornet! Better get out of his way; he has a 
 mighty warm tail!" 
 
 "Matter with my shoulder?" exclaimed Mr. 
 
 H . "It is blistered and raw from lugging that 
 
 confounded buck." 
 
 With some further railing I tied the deer into 
 practicable shape and Jochen and I had no great 
 trouble in reaching the boat with it, as our carrier 
 did not bend double with every step. 
 
 "Yes," remarked Mr. F , "that stick looks like 
 
 a load itself, Mr. H , but then you see looks 
 
 are deceiving sometimes. It is actually lighter than 
 the one we used, and then it doesn't give you a jerk 
 every time you take a step. It is a great thing to 
 know how to adjust one's load and anything that 
 will do that, even a theory, is not a bad thing." 
 
 A short distance before we reached the boat I 
 heard the "tuck" of a turkey, and stopping we heard 
 a considerable flock, perhaps thirty or forty birds, 
 passing between us and the lake. This induced me to 
 hasten on to camp, as I thought it would be a good 
 opportunity to find their roost — the evening being 
 very still, with hardly any air stirring. When we 
 reached there we found everything in good order — 
 under the care of "Sip," Mr. H.-P.'s dog — but Pat 
 was gone and so was his team and wagon. 
 
 "That rascal pays no more attention to me, if he 
 has something to do for the mistress, as he calls 
 
 my wife, than if I were a stranger!" said Mr. F . 
 
 "I wonder when he started We stayed too long for 
 him, I suppose." 
 
 "No," said I, "he started as soon as we were out- 
 side of camp. You see the mud of the track of his 
 wagon and the place where he unloaded the boat are 
 dried up alike." 
 
 "That is so. I don't see what he means," Mr. 
 F remarked. 
 
 While we were talking Mr. H had stripped 
 
 his shoulder and it was really a pitiable sight. I 
 had made fun of him, but when I saw how seriously 
 it was bruised, I hastened to apply a liniment, made 
 of sweet oil, turpentine and chloroform, which of 
 
 course gave him relief. I asked Mr. F whether 
 
 he needed some, but found that the double heavy 
 underwear that he had on had protected him from 
 serious injury. 
 
 "Let me have those papers, Henry. I am done up 
 for a week at least, and may as well make up my 
 mind to while away the time by reading. Hunting 
 is done for me!" said Mr. H . 
 
 "That's all right, Will. You will be out bright 
 and early m the morning. You're not drunk. You're 
 only tired and for that you will be the better after 
 a night's rest," said I, handing him the note book. 
 "But I don't think this is a fair test. You would be 
 asleep in less than ten minutes even without that 
 book, and the hypnotic virtues of its pages cannot 
 be ascertained under such circumstances." 
 
 "Get out and tend to your pots and pans! I want 
 something to eat before I go to sleep! You think 
 you can swindle me out of two meals in one day?" 
 
 My pots and pans, however, were in good shape 
 and in good hands. In less than an hour we sat down 
 to dinner, nor was the best of sauce wanting. 
 
 While eating I kept an eye upon the lake, as I 
 anticipated that the flock of turkeys which we had 
 seen, or heard, would cross over from the south to 
 the north shore before going to roost. This I have 
 found an invariable practice where the bird uses a 
 level country, interspersed with lakes, sloughs and 
 water courses. They put a body of water between 
 their feeding ground and their roost, so as to cut oflf 
 all tracks that might assist the cats and coons to 
 find them on their perch, for which they select the 
 largest trees near the water's edge, or in the head 
 of a slough, lake or pond. In a mountainous coun- 
 try, on the other hand, they will fly from one hill to 
 another and then select the tallest timber in some 
 side gulch into which they sail from the top of the 
 hill. I watched, therefore, with considerable confi- 
 dence, but was disappointed; the birds had either 
 been turned out of their course by meeting us, or 
 slipped across the lake somewhat earlier than usual. 
 To satisfy myself on this point I took the boat, as 
 soon as dinner was over, and started down the lake; 
 
 but had to come back to take in Mr. F , as he 
 
 threatened trouble if I left him behind. 
 
 After taking him aboard. I rowed with noiseless 
 oars down the north shore, which trends far enough 
 southwest to shade itself from the light of the set- 
 ting sun. 
 
 » "Where is your gun, Henry," asked Mr. F , 
 
 as we reached a small tongue of water, extending a 
 hundred yards or so into the bank, where I rested 
 on the oars to listen for indications of the presence 
 of game. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 151 
 
 "I did not come to shoot," said I, "I only want to 
 prospect and enjoy the silence, the peculiar feeling 
 of rest that wraps me about, as it steals over wood 
 and water, forest and lake, at this time of day and 
 year. I like to lose myself in it now and then; 
 and can find it nowhere except in situations like this, 
 where the elements stand face to face — the cloud- 
 less sky, the waveless expanse of water, with the 
 primevil forest bearing witness to their amity. 
 
 "Listen! — Come, we must swap seats! I must use 
 the paddle, the oars are too noisy, no matter with 
 what care they are used. You hear that?" 
 
 "No, what is it?" 
 
 "Turkeys flying up to roost. They are round the 
 point some distance further down. I will paddle 
 along and locate them." 
 
 "But I hear nothing!" 
 
 "Of course not; not now, but you will hear 
 directly." 
 
 We moved along without the slightest noise and 
 directly he asked — "What is that, Henry?" 
 
 "That is the flop of a turkey's wing against the 
 limb of a tree, as it flew up to roost." And I stop- 
 ped the boat. 
 
 "Now, listen!" said I. 
 
 "Well, that beats everything! That sounds as if 
 there were hundreds of them." 
 
 "It is a good flock, and to-morrow morning you 
 shall have some fun with them." 
 
 "Why not now? I have heavy shot with me, and I 
 know you can slip the boat right under them." 
 
 "Yes, I might, and you could shoot a couple with- 
 out any trouble; but to-morrow morning you can 
 kill all you want." 
 
 After some persuasion he agreed to wait until 
 morning, and having located the birds to my satisfac- 
 tion, I turned and headed for camp. 
 
 "Don't take the oars, Henry. I like this ride with- 
 out noise." 
 
 When we passed the point where we had first 
 stopped, I noticed something glide into the lake by 
 the side of a log, the top of which was still visible 
 above the water, and not more than a dozen steps 
 from the bow of the boat. I stopped the paddle, 
 
 called Mr. F^ 's attention to it, with a nod of 
 
 my head, and whispered for him to watch the tree 
 top and shoot whatever came in sight. In a few 
 moments he fired, and a furious racket among the 
 brush in the water indicated that the fire had been 
 eflfective. I turned the boat so as to bring the stern, 
 where I was sitting, in reach of the object, which was 
 still breaking the rotten tree top at a high rate. 
 
 "What is it, Henry, a muskrat?" 
 
 "It is too big for a rat, Mr. F . But, I don't 
 
 know what it is!" said I. 
 
 Just then I saw an object pushed out of the water 
 that looked like a crooked stick, and thinking that 
 perhaps the wounded animal had hold of it, I made 
 a grab and found that I had the tail of a fish otter 
 in my hand. I hauled the animal along side without 
 attempting to lift it into the boat, but soon found 
 
 that its struggles were nearly ended. 
 
 "What is it? Have you got it? Don't let it get 
 away!" 
 
 "Never mind, Mr. F , just light that lantern; 
 
 I will show you what you have killed. It is all safe." 
 
 "What the mischief is it," fairly trembling with 
 excitement, as he came with the lantern. "Is it a 
 bear?" he asked. 
 
 "No, but something more valuable." 
 
 "Pull it in; why don't you pull it into the boat?" 
 
 "It may need killing yet, and you see the water 
 is doing that for us. Just let it get still and I 
 will show it to you. It is a very large fish otter 
 and they are very ugly customers to fight. You see 
 it?" said I, hauling the animal, now fairly dead, into 
 the boat. 
 
 "Thunder!" he exclaimed. "What a beast! Why, 
 it didn't look bigger than my fist when I shot at 
 it." 
 
 "No, you saw only its head, and likely not all of 
 that, in the light you had. You see it got the 
 whole charge of shot in its face." 
 
 "But what is it good for? It is not good to eat." 
 
 "No, but its coat will make you a splendid cap, 
 or pair of fur gloves. It is the finest fur of our lati- 
 tude, and although a little early in the season, it 
 will be well worth preserving." 
 
 "Henry, I haven't been so excited for years. I'm 
 afraid I will be sick for this to-morrow," he re- 
 marked, after he was seated, and I had taken to the 
 oars to reach camp. 
 
 "I don't think so," said I. "The excitement caused 
 by an incident of this kind is different in its effect 
 upon our system from anything I have experienced 
 in other walks of life. When we get to camp you 
 lie down, and I think you will be ready to look at 
 the turkey roost by daylight. Remember, we must 
 be there with the first red streak in the eastern sky. 
 But don't say anything about it in camp. Mr. 
 
 H shall have all he wants some other morning. 
 
 This is for you." 
 
 "All right, Henry; but I doubt whether I will be 
 able to go." 
 
 "Halloo! What did you kill? You made fuss 
 enough to make people think you killed an elephant. 
 Is it a bear?" called out Mr. H , as we ap- 
 proached the landing. 
 
 "No." said I, "not a bear, but Mr. F killed a 
 
 fish otter, and that is the next thing to a bear!" 
 
 "A muskrat, I bet. Rat hunters — I could have 
 killed a dozen of them without going so many yards 
 down the lake!" he growled. 
 
 "That is where you missed it. I would give you 
 five dollars apiece for them — that is for such rats 
 as this one," said I, throwing the magnificent beast 
 upon our fence log. 
 
 "Who killed it?" he asked. 
 
 "Mr. F ," said I. "You see, I was afraid to 
 
 shoot for fear he might claim it. Besides, I had no 
 gun. By-the-by, bow is your shoulder? Why 
 
152 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 aren't you in bed? I thought you were tired to 
 death?" 
 
 "I was in bed; but the fuss you made was enough 
 to resurrect the dead. You rat hunters!" he grum- 
 bled, returning to his tent. 
 
 Mr. F , after he had thoroughly roasted him- 
 self before the fire, retired, while Jochen stripped the 
 otter and I prepared the dressing for the skin — 
 pulverized alum and salt in equal parts. When this 
 was applied and I was placing the pelt upon my camp 
 chest, I noticed that everything in our tent had been 
 overhauled and newly arranged. 
 
 "Why, Jochen," said I, "you have had a general 
 cleaning up. You have made things look as if we 
 intended to stay here for good." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, yes! You see I didn't know but what 
 we might get company; and I thought it would look 
 better if things were a little in order like. If Mrs. 
 
 F and Miss Elizabeth were to drop in upon 
 
 us, you wouldn't like for things to lay around loose, 
 would you?'' 
 
 "What on earth puts that into your head! How 
 could they get here?" 
 
 "Well, sonny, stranger things have happened. Mrs. 
 
 F has her own team and driver. He knows 
 
 the road. We left him to keep camp for us to-day, 
 and when we came back he was gone. If he had 
 not had his orders from his mistress would he have 
 
 disappointed Mr. F ? You see, I think he has 
 
 gone after her, and by to-morrow evening she will 
 be here. You know she thinks the world of her hus- 
 band, and likely she wants to be satisfied that he is 
 not suffering, nor killing himself." 
 
 "And you think that is the reason she sent her 
 own horses to-day, so that the other team might be 
 fresh for to-morrow?" 
 
 "That is it, sonny; that is it. I hadn't thought of 
 that, but it fits. There is np doubt about it — it fits 
 like an old shoe." 
 
 "But what makes you think Miss Elizabeth will 
 come with her?" 
 
 "She wants company, don't she? And then she 
 likes your sweetheart, I know. Haven't I been at 
 her house three and sometimes four times a week, for 
 the last three months? She is my best customer. 
 Yes, she has sent me to others that are good, too. 
 They don't mind a dime, or a quarter, when you 
 bring what they want, and that is the kind of people 
 to deal with. Then she likes to talk to an old fellow 
 like me. She don't mind asking me about you, and 
 whether you intend to marry Miss Elizabeth. She is 
 as much concerned about her as if it was her own 
 sister or daughter." 
 
 "I don't know, Jochen, but what you are right. 
 She may come to look after her husband. There are 
 few men that have as good life partners as Mr. 
 F ." 
 
 "Narren tant, Henry! Sonny, every man that de- 
 serves a good wife has one," retorted Jochen. 
 
 "That is my opinion. When the wife is no ac- 
 count it is the man's fault. There are ten young 
 
 women that will make good wives where there is one 
 young man that deserves one. I don't know why it 
 is, but just look at it. A man makes out of his wife 
 what he wants too, if he is any man at all. Just be 
 kind to her and show that you mean to do your part, 
 that you mean to take care of her and her little ones 
 
 and see. Mrs. F is a woman away up there, 
 
 and I always thought that these rich people didn't 
 care for each other. But you see I was mistaken. 
 She is a good woman. She thinks as much of Mr. 
 
 F as Feeka thinks of me, and that is the way 
 
 they all are, if they are treated right." 
 
 He was still talking when I went to sleep. 
 
 October 14, 1856. 
 
 Although I felt tired and drowsy when I reached 
 my tent last night, I did not sleep well. Jochen had 
 conjured up so many possibilities that it was well 
 past midnight before I could get rid of them, and 
 would have over-slept this morning but for Mr. 
 
 F . At half past four, however, he called me, 
 
 and when I had drunk my cup of coffee and he his 
 bouillon, we were in our boat and away, in time for 
 the turkey roost. I asked him how he felt. 
 
 "Never better in my life, Henry. I believe if I 
 could stay here a month it would make me ten years 
 
 younger 
 
 "I don't know about that, Mr. F- 
 
 -, but one 
 
 thing I am willing to bet on," said I, "that if you 
 can spend the month of October in this way every 
 year you will last ten years longer. And what is to 
 hinder you? Business? I follow business to live, 
 not to destroy my life. I like work and do as much 
 of it as the next man. But I must have variety of it. 
 I need it. I will have it if I have to join the rag- 
 pickers and rake it out of the gutter." 
 
 "You're right, Henry; it is worse than folly for us 
 to neglect our health. But you see how it goes. 
 We start a business and success spurs us on to mad- 
 ness. We lose sight of everything but that. We 
 become monomaniacs and, I sometimes think, de- 
 serve to be confined in a madhouse, as much as the 
 people who are sent there by law. If we are not 
 dangerous to the community we are worse; we are 
 dangerous to ourselves and to those who depend 
 upon us, whom we love and would serve most. But 
 it is not often that such conduct is harmless to 
 others. Most of the business troubles arise out of 
 this feverish conduct of affairs. The business in the 
 control of a sick man is not likely to enjoy good 
 health, and every overtaxed business man is, or soon 
 becomes a sick man." 
 
 During this talk I bent to my oars and we soon 
 reached the point, where I exchanged them for the 
 paddle. After maneuvering around in the shade of 
 the shore for some time, I found that most of the 
 birds sat on the far, or western side of the tongue 
 of water, which pointed north from the main lake. 
 This was unfavorable, as the morning light would 
 strike the water beneath them and reveal our pres- 
 ence too soon for our convenience. We confined 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 133 
 
 our attention, therefore, to the eastern side, where 
 we had fine cover from the shade of the timber, and 
 
 Mr. F ''S gun soon awoke the echo far and near. 
 
 During the first ten or fifteen minutes I took a 
 hand and we gained more birds on our side of the 
 inlet than we lost — that is to say, at the discharge 
 of our guns the birds on the opposite side would 
 come to us, not having located the danger. When I 
 
 felt satisfied that Mr. F could secure all the 
 
 birds that we wanted I quit shooting and applied 
 myself to securing the game already in the water 
 and on the ground. With fair daybreak our work 
 
 was over and Mr. F assisted me in gathering 
 
 the spoils; but when we saw no more at hand, I 
 placed him some distance from shore, in a good 
 cover, and hiding among the roots of a tree turned 
 up by the wind, I commenced calling. This gave 
 him three more shots, and a fine bird, a gobbler, for 
 each. 
 
 While busy at this something attracted my at- 
 tention overhead, and on looking up I saw a flock 
 of swans passing in fair reach of my gun, but they 
 passed before I could get a shot. A few minutes 
 later, however, another flock hove in sight, coming 
 down the lake, and I secured two. As the birds 
 
 struck the water, with a great splash, Mr. F 
 
 called out from the brush: 
 
 "What is that? What are you doing, Henry?" 
 
 "Killing goslings! Come and see!" 
 
 When he saw the magnificent birds, turkey shoot- 
 ing lost all its interest, and nothing would do but 
 we must wait for swans. As none came, I suggested 
 that we might take care of our game, eat a mouthful 
 of breakfast and then row down the lake and see 
 what they were doing — as I had seen them alight 
 a mile or so below us. 
 
 "But it is such a thundering row up to camp and 
 then back again," he remarked. 
 
 "We will not go to camp. I will secure our game 
 here, and I have a lunch, with a jug of bouillon, in 
 the locker of the boat — of course, I never leave camp 
 without ammunition, both for gun and stomach. One 
 never knows what may happen." 
 
 I then set about to draw and secure our game, 
 and in less than half an hour we were eating 
 breakfast and rowing the boat by turns. The morn- 
 ing slipped away while cruising about among some 
 islands and inlets in the western end of the lake, 
 until we had fairly given up all hopes for a shot at 
 the goslings. I finally landed the boat on a point 
 that covered a considerable inlet and went ashore to 
 reconnoiter. The ground was dense with cane and 
 it was a difficult task to penetrate to a position 
 from which I could see the beach of the pocket. 
 After fifteen minutes or so of hard work, that had 
 to be done with the greatest care, I reached a place 
 from which I was rewarded with a sight that fairly 
 sent the blood tingling through my veins. There 
 they were, in easy range, leisurely dosing in the 
 sun, without the slightest suspicion of danger. After 
 a hasty glance I retraced my steps and waved Mr. 
 
 F to me. He followed as noislessly as possi- 
 ble, and when we got back I bent to one side and 
 let him step in front. As soon as he saw the birds 
 he fired; and as they arose I jumped beyond the cane 
 and gave them both barrels. Then there was some 
 splashing sure enough. 
 
 "Come quick!" said I. 
 
 "That big fellow needs another load!" I added, as 
 Mr. F stood looking at nothing, as if be- 
 wildered. 
 
 "Don't you see, he will get away before I can 
 load!" 
 
 This was enough. He came to his senses and 
 stretched the gander flat on the water. But before 
 I was loaded two more of those that were down 
 came to and attempted to get away. I was quick 
 enough for them, however, and we secured whatever 
 remained in sight. I then went for the boat and 
 we picked up nine birds — six of which, I am satisfied, 
 
 fell to the account of the raking fire of Mr. F 's 
 
 first barrel, although he would have it that I 
 knocked down four as they were rising. I now 
 rowed across the mouth of the inlet and landed in 
 the shade of a magnificent maple, the foliage of 
 which showed the full tinge of the autumnal blush. 
 Here I removed the viscera from our birds, built a 
 fire and we made a royal dinner on broiled swan 
 liver and a couple of young squirrels, which I had 
 picked up during the morning, to serve in case of 
 need. We took it leisurely, and when we got back 
 to our turkeys it was 2 o'clock. I then loaded our 
 birds in the stern, all but four gobblers and four 
 swans, which I disposed pairwise in the bow of the 
 boat, and as I took some pains to make them look 
 handsome, Mr. F asked: 
 
 "Do you want to tease Mr. H ? You fixed 
 
 the birds up as if you wanted to exhibit them in 
 the market." 
 
 "Oh, I just want to make him feel cheap with his 
 duck shooting — just to show him what rat hunters 
 can do!" said I. 
 
 We then took both pairs of oars and rowed for 
 camp. As we got in sight I kept turning around to 
 see whether Mr. Hanse-Peter's surmise had proved 
 correct, but saw nothing unusual until we were in 
 easy hailing distance, when I was startled by the 
 
 voice of Mrs. F calling out from behind a tree, 
 
 close to shore, that she had used as a blind: 
 
 "What luck, Mr. F ? Did you kill anything?" 
 
 "Come and see!" was his reply, as he arose to 
 fasten the boat. 
 
 Their meeting was very happy. They dune to 
 each other as if they had been separated for years — 
 but I was disappointed. Elizabeth had not come. 
 
 Mrs. F brought me a letter — but I confess it 
 
 was a disappointment that cut to the bone. It 
 
 affected me so much that Mrs. F noticed it, 
 
 and upon inquiry I explained to her that I had 
 expected her, herself, and had hoped that my dear 
 one would come with her. 
 
 "You were perfectly right, Mr. B ," she said. 
 
154 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "and I did everything to persuade her, but she 
 thought that it might be regarded as improper, and 
 forced herself to forego the pleasure. You must not 
 think hard of her for that. She was right, too. A 
 young woman can not be too strict toward herself as 
 regards her conduct, especially when it may involve 
 the life happiness of two worthy people. But come, 
 tell me, who killed all these birds?" 
 
 "Your husband killed most of them," I answered. 
 
 "He killed nearly all the turkeys and six of the 
 nine swans." 
 
 "How is that? Are you not the better shot? Miss 
 Elizabeth told me that she saw you shoot birds on 
 the wing and tried to make them fall into her lap. 
 I know Mr. F can't shoot on the wing." 
 
 "That is not always necessary. Few of our 
 frontier people are wing shots, and they make a 
 living for themselves and families by hunting. Out 
 of the dozen and a half of turkeys he killed at least 
 a dozen and six of the swans are his, too; and you 
 see he doesn't look so very tired, either." 
 
 "No, not very," he said. Caught his wife in his 
 arms and carried her bodily up the bank, as if she 
 were a mere baby. She fairly screamed with delight, 
 but was startled for a moment by the voice of her 
 son, calling from our fishing place: 
 
 "Mother, mother! Just come and see! Just see 
 the fish I caught!" 
 
 And the sound, before I recognized the words, 
 stirred my blood, too, for it flashed through my 
 mind that perhaps my dear one was hid some where. 
 It was only momentary, however, for as soon as 
 Theodore heard his father he came with a hop, skip 
 and a jump, bearing a half-pound black bass in his 
 right hand and a brand new rod in the left. 
 
 "See, papa, what I caught!" his eyes fairly jump- 
 ing out of their sockets. But as they struck the 
 sight in the boat, the bronze and white, turkey and 
 swan, side beside, as I had disposed them, he stood 
 as if charmed to the spot — stood for a moment; the 
 next he had dropped rod and fish and was down the 
 bank into the boat, trying to lift now this, then that 
 bird, with the exclamation: 
 
 "And where did you shoot all of them, papa?" 
 
 After looking on awhile we went to his assistance 
 — especially as he was interfering with a pair of 
 birds which I had selected for a special purpose — 
 
 as a present for Mrs. F , which would not bear 
 
 rough handling. 
 
 "These two," said I, "the largest and best feath- 
 ered in the lot, must be handled with special care. 
 
 They are for your dining room, Mrs. F , after 
 
 they are mounted. You must take them to Mr. 
 
 V , the taxidermist, and explain to him what 
 
 you want. I don't think there could be a more ap- 
 propriate ornament for a dining room. They repre- 
 sent the resources of the forest in both land and 
 water fowl, and as your husband killed both of them, 
 they will be a reminder of a pleasant morning's 
 recreation besides," I remarked, placing the two 
 
 superb birds — a male of each species, swan and 
 turkey, at her feet. 
 
 "I am ever so much obliged to you, Mr. B ," 
 
 Mrs. F answered. "I will have them mounted 
 
 and put under glass. But did Mr. F really kill 
 
 these birds?" 
 "Yes," said I. 
 
 "Did you, dearest?" addressing her husband. 
 "Yes," said he. "I know I killed the gobbler and 
 it is more than likely I killed the swan, too. I know 
 I did if Henry says so. But, dearest, there is noth- 
 ing remarkable about that. Anybody can kill game 
 
 if he goes with Mr. B and does as he tells 
 
 him. He knows the habits of the birds and beasts 
 of the forests, their time for feeding, for rest, for 
 recreation. He knows their favorite haunts for each 
 of these occasions, and studies the ground in reach- 
 ing distance from the camp with a view to this. I 
 have noticed him, and I believe if he were turned 
 loose in the woods without knife, ax, or hatchet, 
 without gun or pistol, he would catch game enough 
 with his bare hands to keep from starving. I shot 
 the birds, as he told you, but he showed them to me 
 so that I could shoot them." 
 
 "And you think you could catch game alive with- 
 out fire-arms or weapons of any kind, Mr. B ?" 
 
 she turned to me and asked. 
 
 "Certainly I could," said I. "But then I should 
 like to be in a country where nobody else had arms. 
 Under such conditions there would be no difficulty to 
 make a living to-day anymore than there was ten 
 thousand years ago. All that I would ask, in the 
 way of implements, would be to be on a par with my 
 neighbors. But you see how it is. If my neighbor 
 has a gun and I have a club, he is likely to get the 
 most game. Not only that, but he will make the 
 game scarce for me, and besides educate what is left 
 to fear and to avoid me. You understand this 
 readily, because it is not a peculiarity confined to this 
 mode of life — or this mode of making a living — two 
 phrases for the same thing. Success in any avoca- 
 tion in civil society is as much dependent upon the 
 tools as upon the handling of them; so that what is 
 called competition has largely resolved itself into a 
 contest of implements — who can get hold of the 
 best; and this is what gives to our world its distinct- 
 ive character. Not the skillful handling of the im- 
 plements inherited from our fathers, but standing 
 flat-footed before the task of life, tool in hand, the 
 day asks, 'Is this the best we can do in the way of 
 implement to perform that task with?' " 
 
 "Where are you going, Mr. B ?" she called 
 
 out, laughing. "Rushing to the shop? I thought 
 you came here to get away from the shop! You are 
 a pretty fellow to get away from the shop! Talk 
 shop, think shop, dream shop! I wonder how you 
 get time to eat outside of your shop! 
 
 "Come, what are we going to have for dinner? Of 
 course, you have been so busy all day to get some- 
 thing to eat that you didn't have time to prepare, or 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 155 
 
 eat it! It is just as I thought it would be! Every- 
 thing to cook and nothing cooked!" 
 
 "That is likely, Mrs. F . But come, we 
 
 must see; sure enough!" 
 
 As we entered our enclosure, she looked around. 
 
 "This is not as bad as I thought it would be. 
 Really, look at that!" she exclaimed, as her eye 
 alighted on her husband's bed, neatly made up and 
 exposed to the full effect of the afternoon's sun, with 
 the flaps of the tent tied up. 
 
 "Isn't that cozy?" 
 
 In the meantime a glance toward the camp fire, in 
 front of the six-foot sycamore, that had charred 
 away just enough to reveal its entire proportion, 
 convinced me that I had nothing to fear from the 
 most critical inspection. So after she had rested for 
 a moment in her husband's easy chair, felt his bed 
 and looked at his toilet articles, I said: 
 
 "Come, Mrs. F , we must see about dinner." 
 
 "But where is your kitchen?" she inquired. 
 
 "Right here," I answered. 
 
 "What have you got in that Dutch oven?" 
 
 "I don't know; I think, however, it is a dead 
 
 turkey, as Mr. H.-P would say, or something 
 
 of that kind. You see, I am not cook to-day." With 
 that I lifted the lid. 
 
 "That is delicious," she exclaimed. "Put back the 
 lid; the bird is cooked and is being browned. I 
 wonder what it is stuffed with! It is something I 
 am not acquainted with. What is this?" 
 
 "That I think is our soup. And here I see are the 
 materials for a squirrel ragout. Yes, and this is a 
 teal stew, and here are four canvas-back ducks, 
 boned, ready for the coals; this I see Is our salad, 
 and here is water-cress, crisp, just from the spring!" 
 
 "But where is the cook?" asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Catching the fish for dinner," said Jochen, poking 
 his head over the eastern end of the back log. "You 
 
 see, Mrs. F , fish are harmless creatures. I like 
 
 to let them live as long as I can and never take them 
 out of the water until I want them in the pan. How 
 do you do? I am mighty glad to see you. But 
 why didn't you let us know you were coming? You 
 find us all upset, as the women folks say, when 
 they get company." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. H.-P , with no preparation at all; 
 
 and with nothing to eat in sight. I will wager Pat 
 told you I was coming, and you have been busy pre- 
 paring for my visit for the last three days. Well, I 
 might have known he couldn't keep a secret. What 
 man can, unless it is to swindle somebody!" she re- 
 marked, with some bitterness. "I know he told you 
 that I intended to bring you a decent meal; and you 
 have been fixing up just to beat me!" she added. 
 
 "Most assuredly not, Mrs. F . We are not 
 
 prepared for that. Our venison is not ripe; it was 
 killed only yesterday and will not be fit to eat for 
 some days to come. Besides, we killed only the 
 material for our best dishes — that is, such as most 
 people would regard so — this morning. We have 
 nothing on hand but our ordinary fare, not an ounce 
 
 of meat but of our own killing, unless it be a slice 
 of baked ham for a hasty lunch." 
 
 "You can talk as you please, Mr. B , I know 
 
 what I know! A parcel of men, all by themselves, 
 to have things look like that!" she said. 
 
 In order to relieve Pat from unjust suspicion, I 
 
 explained to her that Mr. H.-P had expected 
 
 her visit, and also the circumstances that led him to 
 
 the conclusion; but that neither Mr. F nor 
 
 Mr. H were made acquainted with his expecta- 
 tions. 
 
 "Now, that is something like it. I can understand 
 
 it now, and it is kind in you, Mr. B — , to tell me 
 
 the actual state of affairs. I should have doubted 
 Pat, and I would not lose the confidence I have in 
 him for a great deal. A servant that you can con- 
 fide in is such a relief — next to a true husband, a 
 true servant is the greatest blessing in life." 
 
 Mr. H.-P now came in with the fish for 
 
 dinner, cleaned and ready for the pan or coals He 
 asked me to blow the horn and then lend a hand to 
 get dinner ready and served. 
 
 "What is that for, Mr. B ?" 
 
 "To call in all hands for dinner." 
 
 She then went to the wagon and in a few minutes 
 returned with Pat, carrying a table. This she un- 
 folded — I mean literally; for the whole affair, legs 
 and all, closed up into one compact package. 
 
 "Where did you get that, Mrs. F ?" I asked, 
 
 with some surprise. 
 
 "From your man Olff — he makes everything! T 
 had sent for him to come to my house to look at 
 some decorations and he heard Pat tell me that 
 you ate your meals from a log. Next day he sent 
 me that table." 
 
 While she was busy placing the table in front of 
 
 Mr. F 's tent, Pat brought a huge basket from 
 
 the wagon filled with table linen and a complete set 
 of dishes, knives and forks, cups and saucers, goblets 
 and glasses not omitted. 
 
 "What is all this for? What does it mean, wifey 
 
 mine?" asked Mr. F , coming from attending to 
 
 his game. 
 
 "To keep you fellows from turning barbarians — 
 husband mine!" she replied. 
 
 "But who gave you permission to set up your 
 elaborate, not to say extravagant eating apparatus 
 in our humble, primitive enclosure?" 
 
 "The same authority that gave you permission to 
 use axes to fell these trees, guns to kill your meat 
 and hooks to catch your fish. If you don't believe 
 
 it, ask Mr. B . He has examined the papers," 
 
 she answered. 
 
 Pat by this time came with another hamper filled 
 with provisions. 
 
 "You may as well leave that in the wagon, Pat. 
 There is nothing there, unless the bread, that these 
 high livers will want to touch. I expect we shall 
 have to board at a hotel for a while, in order to 
 taper down to the simplicity of home living when 
 
156 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 camp breaks up. We have nothing 'to eat at home 
 compared with meals like these." 
 
 "You mean as regards the raw material, Mrs. 
 
 F . But they alone don't make the meal. Of 
 
 course, our sauce here is excellent, too; but still 
 there is something wanting — or there has been until 
 you came with your son. If guests are essential to 
 a banquet, then a mother and her children are neces- 
 sary to an enjoyable table. Without them the best 
 of viands are but animal food. It is they that add 
 human significance to the meal. The etiquette that 
 places the mistress of the home at the head of the 
 table, opposite the father and provider may rest 
 upon mere instinct; but the clearest of vision, reason 
 itself, could not improve the arrangement. It places 
 before him, in bodily reality, the final fruition of all 
 his toil and anxieties — their fruition in human en- 
 joyment and its perpetuity." 
 
 "Oh yes, we know, Mr. B . You are an 
 
 excellent talker about all these things; but when it 
 comes to practice you crawl into a hole and gnaw 
 
 your bone by yourself. Why is not Mrs. B 
 
 here to take this seat," she said, attempting to sit 
 down at the eastern end of the table. 
 
 "No, not there, Mrs. F , please. This is your 
 
 place," directing her to the side opposite. "We can 
 not afford to be deprived of the light of your coun- 
 tenance. Over there you would have to shade your 
 face from the sun and that would give you an op- 
 portunity to play hide-and-seek with us." 
 
 "Much obliged, Mr. B ," taking the proffered 
 
 seat — "But where is your companion, Mr. H ? 
 
 Don't you wait." 
 
 "Camp meals refuse to wait, Mrs. F . But 
 
 where is he, Mr. Hanse-Peter? When did he leave 
 his tent?" I inquired. 
 
 "He left when I came in from duck shooting, about 
 9 o'clock," said Jochen. 
 
 "I went to look for some canvas-backs and when 
 I came back. Sip, who was with me, treed over 
 
 there, in sight of camp, and Mr. H went out to 
 
 kill the squirrel. I didn't hear him shoot, but the 
 dog treed further down the lake sometime after- 
 ward and then I heard his gun." 
 
 "And you have heard nothing of him since?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "Not a thing, and haven't heard his gun either. 
 You see, I have been pretty busy and thought that 
 he was poking around, in sight of camp," said 
 Jochen. 
 
 I took the horn and blew the signal, but received 
 no answer. I then fired the gun and still everything 
 was silent. 
 
 "He is lost," said I, "and you must excuse me. It 
 is 4 o'clock. In two hours and a half it will be 
 dark. Jochen, in which direction did you hear the 
 dog last?" 
 
 "Down the lake, on the south side." 
 
 "The dog has not come back?" 
 
 "No, the rascal wanted to hunt. There is no 
 danger of him coming back." 
 
 "Where did you go for the canvas-backs?" 
 
 "Southwest. There is a small lake there that con- 
 nects with this one by a dry slough. The ground 
 along the slough is high, and I found the celery lake, 
 where I went to kill the ducks, while looking for 
 hickory nuts to stuff our turkey." 
 
 "Just so. How far down is it where the dry 
 slough connects with our lake?" 
 
 "Between two and three miles." 
 
 "Is there much hickory between here and there?" 
 
 "No, the ground is too low!" 
 
 "Help me rig up the boat. I want the lantern, ax 
 and the big line. Put in a jug of bouillon and the 
 cold corn bread you have." 
 
 Saying this I stepped to the tent for my gun, 
 hunting jacket, belt and hatchet. My short talk, and 
 rather decisive actions, had betrayed more anxiety 
 than the occasion called for, perhaps, and alarmed 
 Mrs. F . 
 
 "There is no danger, is there, Mr. B ?" asked 
 
 Mrs. F . 
 
 "There is no telling. I hope not; but a great deal 
 of the ground along the edges of the sloughs is very 
 treacherous, boggy; and a man that gets lost loses 
 himself. There is no telling what foolishness he 
 may commit. I must go and see at once!" 
 
 "Not by yourself?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes, by myself. I will take the boat, row down 
 to the dry slough and more than likely I will hear 
 the dog, as the squirrels will be out feeding. It is 
 the dog that has led him off, and the dog will be 
 the means to find him. He is lost but will stick to 
 the dog, because the dog will stick to him." 
 
 "And we will go with you. Mr. F will help 
 
 you row," she said, with peremptory decision. 
 
 "That can hardly be," I remarked. 
 
 "Why not? If you take to the woods from the 
 mouth of the slough, my husband can bring us 
 back to camp. I can't sit here worrying and doing 
 nothing," and away she started for the boat. 
 
 "I think, Henry, it will be best that way. Mary 
 will be better satisfied, and we will build a good fire 
 at the mouth of the slough and keep it up — that may 
 help you," said Mr. F . 
 
 "All right," said I. "Pat, bring us the double 
 oars. Jochen, wrap up a good lunch." 
 
 "No occasion for that, your honor," put in Pat. 
 "Here is the basket which mistress packed herself." 
 
 "Right again. Mr. H.-P , you and Mr. 
 
 F take the big oars; I will manage these and 
 
 -, must do the steering, as you 
 
 you, Mrs. F- 
 refuse to be idle." 
 
 "Now, that's business! Come, Theodore, you sit 
 here and help me," she replied. 
 
 "Pat, take care of our dinner until we come 
 back," said Theodore, 
 
 "Yes," added Mr. F , "and don't skip off home 
 
 while we are gone, as you did the other day." 
 
 "No danger of that with Mistress F here her- 
 self!" replied Pat. 
 
 In less time than it has taken to relate we were 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 157 
 
 off, and although none of us was an expert oarsman, 
 the rate at which we skimmed the unruffled water of 
 the lake indicated that we had some business at 
 the further end. 
 
 "I wonder what makes the boat run sideways! 
 I can scarcely hold her straight," said our steers- 
 woman. 
 
 "That is Mr. H.-P 's fault, dearest," said Mr. 
 
 F . "If Henry there did not help me we would 
 
 be turning round and round. He has the strength 
 of three such men as I am." 
 
 We soon reached what according to my judgment 
 was the mouth of the slough — but Jochen failed to 
 identify the place. 
 
 "There is too much water here, Henry," said he. 
 "That may be; we must see. Did you pass this 
 slough in coming down?" 
 
 "No, that is what bothers me." 
 "All right, we will run up a piece and see." 
 We turned up the slough and soon I noticed that 
 the ground arose as we receded from the lake. We 
 stopped from time to time to listen, but only heard 
 our own hearts beat. Our trend was southwest, and 
 finally I thought I saw the end of the slough; but 
 when we reached the place, found that it turned at 
 a sharp angle due south, and in less than a hundred 
 yards the water ceased. 
 
 "That is it! There is the dry slough," 'said Jochen. 
 "How did I miss it?" 
 
 "Very easily," said I. "You mistook the slough as 
 far as it has water in it for the lake itself. Yonder 
 are your tracks!" 
 "Yes, I came down there to get a drink." 
 "Right then — let us listen!" 
 
 Not a sound except the shrill scream of an eagle, 
 which resented our intrusion, broke upon the ear. 
 
 "See, mother, oh see its head and tail! How they 
 shine!" exclaimed little Theodore, as the bird glided 
 from its perch and sought the free expanse of the 
 lake. We landed on the point around which the 
 slough bends for investigation. The boat was hardly 
 fastened to the bank, when Theodore came jumping 
 back with a hickory nut still enclosed in its fat-sided 
 green hull. 
 
 "What is that, mother? An apple?" 
 
 "Ask Mr. B . He knows all the fruits in the 
 
 forest." 
 
 I took the nut and hulled it. 
 
 "It's a hickory nut! Oh, there are lots of them, 
 mother! May I gather some?" 
 
 "Yes, Theodore," said I, "and mother will help 
 you, and father, too. But don't go out of sight of 
 
 the boat. Mr. H.-P , you better stay with 
 
 them. I will examine the slough and be back 
 directly." 
 
 I first examined the tracks of Sip carefully, where 
 he had been in the morning with his master, and 
 then followed the bank of the dry slough. A hun- 
 dred yards or so beyond the mouth I found where 
 he had been the second time; the trail went across 
 the slough, but I failed to find any sign where he 
 
 had recrossed, or that anybody had been with him. 
 I exhausted all my skill, but in vain. Followed the 
 slough up to the celery lake, came down the other 
 bank, but not a sign did I see except where he had 
 crossed. This fact, however, was beyond doubt, as 
 he had run a rabbit into a hollow tree, on the west 
 side, and left abundant evidence at the mouth of the 
 hole of his presence there. 
 
 When I returned I found my people gathering nuts 
 on that side of the slough, and to my questions 
 whether Sip had run a rabbit into a tree in the 
 morning, Jochen replied "No." 
 
 "There is a small branch of this slough, also dry, 
 that makes off toward the west a point or two south; 
 did you examine that?" 
 
 "No; I did not see it, Henry. But what about 
 that rabbit?" 
 
 "We are on the right track. Sip has been here 
 since you were with him this morning." 
 
 "Yes, and I heard him, I heard a dog; but they all 
 say I was mistaken but mother; she thought she 
 heard it, too," said little Theodore. 
 
 "Where was that, my little man?" 
 
 "Right over there. I was picking up nuts by that 
 big tree," the child replied. 
 
 "I don't think there is anything in it, Henry. He 
 only imagined it. We all listened but heard noth- 
 ing," said Mr. F . 
 
 "How is that, Mrs. F ? Theodore says you 
 
 heard it, too?" I asked. 
 
 "I thought I did once or twice. But then we all 
 listened and I suppose I was mistaken." 
 
 "But where were you when you heard it, Theo- 
 dore?" 
 
 "Right over yonder, by that big tree." 
 
 "You're mistaken my son, that is not the tree," 
 said his father. 
 
 "Yes, but papa it is! I can show you" — and off 
 he started. "You see this? I took these green 
 ■skins off the nuts and dirtied my fingers," he said, 
 as we approached him. 
 
 "There! I heard it again!" his bright face beam- 
 ing with strained attention, concentrated upon the 
 organs of hearing. I ran up to him and took a posi- 
 tion to one side, a little ahead— listened, but heard 
 nothing. 
 
 "Where is it," I asked. 
 
 "I don't know but I hear it!" 
 
 "Look at me and listen!" 
 
 "Yes, I hear it!" 
 
 "Now look at mother! Do you hear it yet?" 
 
 "Yes, it is over yonder!" pointing toward the west. 
 
 "So it is!" said his mother. "I hear it, too!" 
 
 I ran west, perhaps a hundred and fifty yards, 
 stopped and listened. Barely, barely distinguishable, 
 I heard the sound. 
 
 "Come here, all of you!" I cried. "Theodore is 
 right!" 
 
 Jochen rushed up and listened. 
 
 "That is Sip! He has treed!" 
 
IS8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "No," said I, "it doesn't sound like it. You stop 
 here until they come up. I will listen." 
 
 I walked in the direction of the sound and every 
 step increased the certainty that it was our dog, 
 but also the conviction that he was baying some- 
 thing on the ground and not barking up a tree. It 
 
 flashed through my mind that Mr. H might 
 
 have got mired dovi'n in one of the many bogs and 
 that the dog was calling for help. As the rest of the 
 people came up I told them my fears, and asked Mr. 
 
 H.-P to bring Mr. and Mrs. F , while I 
 
 would get over the ground with what speed I could. 
 
 "Every moment may be precious! If the dog 
 stops when I get there I will give you the signal with 
 the gun!" 
 
 And away I went at utmost speed. With every 
 jump I became more and more satisfied that the 
 dog was baying and that he was very near exhausted. 
 This, of course, spurred me on to the utmost. I 
 reached the branch slough, saw the opening in the 
 forest where it widened into a pond — the sword 
 grass surrounding the water, a hopeful sign, and 
 there Sip, not visible yet, but giving his short angry 
 bark at intervals. No quagmire there! But what is it 
 that excites his spleen? Ah, a sign! I checked my- 
 self and collected my senses. Yes, that is a deer 
 trail. At full speed, but on three legs, it has passed 
 this shore to find safety in the water beyond the 
 grass. There is no hurry now. But Sip was ex- 
 hausted, and as soon as he winded me, relaxed his 
 exertion. To give the signal agreed upon for the 
 
 guidance of Mr. H.-P , I stepped into the 
 
 grass and shot the deer — a three-point buck. After 
 the report of my gun had died away I listened, but 
 not a whisper by way of answer struck my ear. I 
 blew the death signal on my hc-n — not a sound in 
 answer. The water in the pond was not over twenty 
 inches deep and I commenced to examine the grass 
 around the edge. On the western side I found a trail, 
 where the grass was broken down by the repeated 
 passage and repassage of an animal. The sign was 
 fresh, and as the buck and dog had entered the 
 slough from the east, the opposite side, there was no 
 accounting for this trail, unless Sip had made it in 
 his endeavors to get help. While figuring on this, 
 Jochen came up with the people. I explained to 
 them the situation, and my conviction that Mr. 
 
 H was in the vicinity but too much exhausted 
 
 or bewildered to answer, or even to recognize our 
 call. 
 
 "What can we do then to save him?" asked Mr. 
 
 "There is no immediate danger now," I answered. 
 "I may have to stay here all night; but we will find 
 him. The only danger is from wolves, and they 
 will not be out until dusk." 
 
 "May I see the deer?" asked little Theodore. 
 
 "Yes, I will go and get it," said Jochen. "No, 
 we must take the deer to the other side, where Sip 
 is," said I. "We will take it up his trail to the 
 edge of the wood, and you go ahead with the dog. 
 
 If my conclusion is correct. Sip will trot ahead of 
 
 you straight to Mr. H to tell him, in dog 
 
 language and manner, the news. And this will save 
 us the trouble of following his, the dog's blind trail, 
 which usually is extremely difficult." 
 
 "You are right, sonny, you are right. He will do 
 that — he is sure to do it and feel mighty proud. That 
 is the way he does." 
 
 "Come here, Theodore," said I. "I will show you 
 the deer." 
 
 Took him in my arms, showed him the deer and 
 brought him back to his mother. 
 
 "A few minutes more, Mr. F , and you must 
 
 return to the boat with your family. I need Mr. 
 H.-P only for a few minutes more." 
 
 I went back to the deer, which Jochen was drag- 
 ging along the trail through the grass. As we got 
 to shore. Sip, poor brute, got up and gave his master 
 the usual greeting. This done, Jochen started for 
 the woods along the trail and Sip led the way. At 
 a distance less than a quarter of a mile from where 
 
 we entered the woods, we found Mr. H , half 
 
 sitting, half hanging on a log, and a more pitiable 
 object I have not seen in human shape. As the dog 
 approached him he said "Go away, dog!" in a 
 tone of voice that cut me to the heart — so utterly 
 destitute was it of any intelligent recognition of the 
 surroundings. 
 
 I caught him in my arms and called his name 
 repeatedly before the slightest recognition followed. 
 At last his eyes blazed up for a moment and he 
 said — "Henry!" 
 
 This was the last sound he uttered for the next 
 eight hours. 
 
 "Now, Jochen, leave me. Get the people to camp 
 and come for me in the morning with the boat, to 
 the mouth of the dry slough. You're sure of the 
 trail to the boat?" 
 
 "Yes, sonny, I have blazed it." 
 
 "That gives you more time. But go!" 
 
 I then gave my whole attention to Mr. H , 
 
 who had sunk into a lethargic unconciousness. I 
 gave him a swallow of bouillon, but his stomach re- 
 jected it. I then tried an extremely small portion of 
 brandy, which by degrees proved effective. Before 
 the sun went down he was under its influence, to the 
 extent that sleep came to our relief. I then set to 
 work to make him comfortable during the night; 
 and when my fire was fully ablaze, with plenty of 
 wood at hand to last us until morning, I strolled 
 down to see what had become of my deer. I found 
 the place where we had dragged it ashore, but the 
 deer was gone. I then returned to the fire, and after 
 drying my clothes, exchanged them with my patient 
 in order to dry his, too. I then turned in — that is I 
 laid down by the fire to sleep. 
 
 The seven stars were just capping the trees when 
 I was aroused from my half unconscious dose by an 
 approaching noise. I soon recognized the footsteps 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 IS9 
 
 of a man, and in the next minute Jochen laid down 
 his bulky load of wraps and clothing. 
 
 "There, sonny, don't lay there on the naked 
 ground! Here is your robe!" handing me my buffalo 
 robe. 
 
 "How is he?" 
 
 "All right, Jochen. I have put him to sleep with 
 brandy. But I needed this badly. Come and help 
 me wrap him up. I can keep warm enough without 
 it. But when a person is in his condition he needs 
 a bath in his own perspiration and vapors!" 
 
 "Take this first, Henry. It is warmer than the 
 robe," referring to Mr. H 's great coat, fur- 
 lined. 
 
 "Now we have him," said I, "fully aroused. But 
 what made you leave camp, Jochen? You know I 
 am not the man to suffer, with the means of com- 
 fort on every side of me!" 
 
 "I know, sonny! But you see it is only a cat's 
 jump; and then you done a great deal more than 
 you know yourself. You don't give out until every- 
 thing is done; you don't feel it yourself, but that 
 is no reason that you don't suflfer. I can go back if 
 you think best." 
 
 "Of course, Jochen, it wouldn't do to leave them 
 in camp by themselves. Any disturbance, even the 
 howling of a wolf, would throw them into unneces- 
 sary alarm. They are not acquainted with such 
 things. I don't like to ask you to go back either — 
 but—" 
 
 "Narren tant, sonny, what's that to me! I am 
 used to it! I left them all sound asleep, but then 
 something might happen, as you say. And all I 
 wanted was to see you comfortable — goodnight!" 
 
 "Yes," said I to myself, as I heard his steps dying 
 away in the distance, "a true human heart is 
 something lovable in any garb." I thought over 
 
 things for some time, when Mr. H became 
 
 restless. I tried a drink of bouillon and it stayed 
 on his stomach. After a short interval I gave him 
 another portion; and he fell asleep for good — that 
 is, naturally, nor did he awake again until the sun 
 was fairly above the tree tops, the next morning. 
 
 October 15, 1856. 
 
 "How is that, man! Are you going to sleep all 
 
 day!" I called out, as I saw Mr. H turning 
 
 over as if partly awake. 
 
 "Come, get up! Breakfast is waiting! Because 
 you walked three or four miles yesterday, that is no 
 reason you should lay in bed all day to-day!" 
 
 "Where in thunder are we, Henry!" 
 
 "Down here, a little below camp — where you shot 
 that deer yesterday." 
 
 "Deer! I — shot a deer! I rather think a deer 
 shot me! I don't remember seeing a deer, or any- 
 thing else after 11 o'clock, when I found I was lost 
 for good. I feel like I had walked five hundred 
 miles! Thunder, man, I can't move! I haven't a 
 joint in me!" 
 
 "That's all right. Will, you're tongue is still lim- 
 
 ber, anyhow, and that is more than it was last night. 
 Come, let me rub you a little!" 
 
 "A little! Call you that a little — you break my 
 leg, man!" 
 
 "Of course, to give you new joints! Come, put 
 your arm over my shoulder and try a step or two! 
 Or else get on my back and I will carry you down 
 to the boat!" 
 
 By degrees he got so as to sustain his own weight, 
 and by leaning on me heavily, we succeeded in 
 reaching the mouth of the dry slough — but it took 
 us a longer time, it is safe to say, than it took me 
 to come over the same ground yesterday. Here we 
 
 found Jochen, Mr. F , Theodore and Mrs. 
 
 F , the latter busy making a cup of coffee. 
 
 This was extremely welcome, as it enabled me to 
 give my patient a dose of quinine, which he greatly 
 needed, but which I had not dared to administer 
 for want of an auxiliary stimulant. I placed hijn 
 in the bow of the boat, well bolstered up with pil- 
 lows and covered with blankets, which the fore- 
 thought of Mrs. F had brought from camp. 
 
 He asked: 
 
 "Who is that, Henry?" meaning Mrs. F . I 
 
 told him and offered to introduce him; but he was 
 too drowsy to take further notice of me. 
 
 After we had drunk our coffee and I had made a 
 vain attempt to kill that eagle, which seemed to use 
 the topmost limb of a grand sycamore, near by, for 
 its observatory, for my little friend, Theodore, we 
 started for the lake, Jochen and myself sliding the 
 boat along at a handsome rate of speed. "As fast 
 as all three did yesterday, if not faster!" insisted Mrs. 
 F , who again steered for us. 
 
 "I am inclined to think that is a mistake, Mrs. 
 
 F ," said I. "It may seem so to you, but if we 
 
 had the opportunity to measure our speed by some- 
 thing else than by our anxiety to get to the journey's 
 end, I am sure you would have a better opinion of 
 the assistance your husband gave us." 
 
 When we got opposite the mouth of the first 
 
 inlet, on the north side of the lake where Mr. F 
 
 killed the otter, we saw our eagle attempting to catch 
 a duck on the water. We stopped the boat and 
 watched it, swooping first from one side and then 
 from the other, and every time it reached the 
 lowest point of the curve the duck was out of sight, 
 safe under the water. The game had gone on for 
 some time, when I noticed that a large flock of 
 coots, or water hens, were crouched along the east 
 shore, obviously cowed by the danger in sight. 
 
 I asked: 
 
 "How do you feel, Mr. H ? Do you wish to 
 
 get to your tent at once, or are you comfortable 
 enough in your present positon to wait fifteen or 
 twenty minutes longer? I should like to get that 
 royal highwayman for Theodore." But I received no 
 answer. 
 
 "I would like to see how you could manage to 
 
i6o 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 get the better of so wary a customer," said Mr. 
 
 F . 
 
 "I think I see a chance," said I, and directed the 
 boat to land around the point of the inlet. "Now," 
 said I, "you may row back and look on. But don't 
 come any nearer to the inlet than what we were. I 
 think when it finds that it cannot get the duck it 
 will come for a water hen, and they are in reach 
 of my gun from shore." 
 
 I slipped through the cover and reached the shore 
 of the inlet; near the center of the flock of coots. 
 Here I waited while the eagle was still threshing 
 away, trying to tire out the quarry. But the duck out- 
 lasted it and as it turned, away in disgust, it 
 circled around and rather than no meat, concluded 
 to breakfast on coot. Of course, I assisted it to 
 land in their midst, to the utmost consternation 
 of the silly throng. Theodore shouted as he saw the 
 bird fall, but I saw that it was only winged, the 
 shot having proved too light for more effective exe- 
 cution. I therefore directed the boat to land, in 
 order to secure my prize myself without further 
 injury. This done, we made for camp. 
 
 "Why did you shoot it, Mr. B ? It fell into 
 
 the water before you shot." 
 
 "It got its wings tangled up before you shot," 
 said Theodore. 
 
 I explained to him that it was the effect of the 
 shot that he saw before he heard the report and 
 that this was owing to the fact that he could see 
 quicker at a distance off than he could hear from 
 there. 
 
 "Yes, but I heard Sip when I couldn't see him at 
 all!" 
 
 "You did, my son, and to-night," said I, "when it 
 gets dark I will show you how we hear some- 
 thing without seeing it, and how we see something 
 that makes a noise at a distance quicker than we 
 can hear the noise." 
 
 "How will you do that? Oh, I know. You will 
 go down the lake and shoot off your gun, so that we 
 can see it blaze, and the crack comes too late and 
 doesn't keep up. Just like a rocket that goes off in 
 the sky!" he said, his beautiful brown eyes fairly 
 scintillating with triumph. 
 "Yes, my little man," said I. 
 "Theodore, you must not talk so much. Mr. 
 
 B is very tired," said his mother. 
 
 As we reached camp Jochen and myself carried 
 
 Mr. H to his bed without arousing him from 
 
 bis sleep. Here Mr. F and his good wife 
 
 claimed all further care and compelled both Jochen 
 and myself to retire to their tent for rest, but Jochen 
 slipped off into the woods, with the remark: "You 
 go to sleep, sonny, it ain't my time of day." 
 
 He had scarcely left when little Theodore peeped 
 in. 
 
 "May I come in, Mr. B ," he whispered. 
 
 "Yes, my son. Come here and sit by my side. 
 What is it you want to ask me, my little man?" 
 
 "I would like so much to have those horns — the 
 horns of the deer you killed last night; but mother 
 says I must not ask you for them." 
 
 "Why, Theodore, those horns belong to you. You 
 heard the dog and that made it possible for me to kill 
 the deer. The horns and hide, too, belonged to 
 you — if we had saved the deer. But I am afraid the 
 wild cats and wolves made away with him last 
 night — we were so busy." 
 
 "No, Mr. H.-P brought it across the pond 
 
 on his back last night, and he and father carried him 
 to the boat. He hangs on a tree t)y the side of the 
 big one, and they have cut its belly open! But 
 
 isn't Mr. H.-P strong? He just lifted the 
 
 whole deer as if it was a cat!" 
 
 "Yes, he is a strong man, like you will be when 
 you get big. Now, I tell you what we will do; when 
 I have rested for a little while we will take the skin 
 off the deer and tan it with the hair on. Then we 
 will take the head with the horns and preserve that, 
 too. Then, when we get home, mother will have 
 the head fixed up in your room for a hat rack — to 
 hang your things on, and you can always remember 
 when you look at it how you heard the dog when the 
 rest of us could not; and the skin you can spread 
 upon the floor to step on when you come out of your 
 bath, in the morning." 
 
 "But mother says you must sleep; and she must 
 not know I was here. She will not like it," he 
 whispered, and jumped away, overfull with our plans. 
 As soon as I commenced to feel the warmth of 
 the generous bed I fell asleep and knew nothing 
 until I awoke past S o'clock, in the evening. As I 
 stepped out of the tent, after bathing my face, I 
 was greeted by the kindly voice of our hostess. 
 
 "How do you feel, Mr. B ? Have you rested 
 
 well?" 
 
 "Most excellently," I answered. "I could not feel 
 
 better! How is Mr. H ?" 
 
 "Resting quietly. He has slept the whole time and 
 is still asleep; but I should like to wake him for 
 dinner. You see, it is about time to eat. The table 
 was set more than twenty-four hours ago." 
 
 "Yes, I can do my part. But we must not disturb 
 
 Mr. H . Food is nothing when compared with 
 
 sleep as a restorer of nature overtaxed." 
 
 "He had a narrow escape!" remarked Mr. F , 
 
 as we seated ourselves. 
 
 "Yes, in one sense, a narrow call for his life; but 
 he did not escape the suffering. If he had perished 
 his suffering could not have been greater. 
 
 "Why, Mr. B- ?" asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Because," I answered, "he was past suffering 
 when we came upon him; the rest would have been 
 merely physical, and that itself very short. A pack 
 of timber wolves are rapid executioners." 
 
 "And do you think they would have killed him?" 
 "Most likely, within an hour from the time we 
 found him. There is plenty of sign indicating their 
 presence around the lake, and at sun down they 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIAKY. 
 
 16 1 
 
 stir, abroad with the rest of the prt^wlers. It was 
 this that made me so anxious not to lose a moment's 
 time, even after I was satisfied that he was not 
 mired down in a bog." 
 
 "But you did not seem to be excited, except that 
 you acted and moved about quickly. You even in- 
 dulged my foolishness to go with you, when we could 
 only hinder your work. I think you might have 
 explained the real danger and saved yourself that 
 trouble," she remarked. 
 
 "Of course I might, and cut off my main help. I 
 am not so conceited as not to avail myself of every 
 possible assistance in an emergency, and the present 
 experience is a new illustration of the fact that help 
 may come from sources least expected. When you 
 decided to go with me it struck me at first as absurd, 
 but the reflection occurred instantaneously that five 
 pairs of ears were better to listen for a sound than 
 one, in an uncertain area — and the mouth of the 
 dog was my only reliance to find Mr. H . With- 
 out that I was powerless and he in all probability 
 lost. You must not think that it was mere com- 
 plaisance on my part to accept your company. Emer- 
 gencies, such as presented itself, wipe all complais- 
 ance from my mind. I did so with a thankful heart 
 for the actual assistance. I saw in your proposition 
 and the result shows that without you, and especially 
 the superior sensitive organization of your little man 
 — his unpolluted child heart sheltered in your own 
 bosom — all my experience and knowledge of the 
 forest and forest life might have proved of little 
 avail. To listen for an expected sound in a dense 
 forest has its own peculiarities. It is not necessarily 
 the distance alone that governs the audibility — the 
 intervening objects also come into account. This I 
 knew when we started, and it was this — the knowl- 
 edge that four or five persons scattered over a space 
 of only a hundred yards square would be more likely 
 to hear the dog than one person by himself — it was 
 this that led me to accept your kind assistance." 
 
 "But really, Mr. B , I had no idea of the 
 
 danger to which persons are exposed in the woods," 
 she said. 
 
 "The woods are as dangerous to thoughtless, in- 
 experienced persons as the pavements and streets of 
 a crowded city. The truth is, the world is no place 
 for such anywhere, and that is the reason you do 
 not allow your son to roam about at pleasure. Na- 
 ture has no weakness for man — doesn't fondle but 
 throttles him. His life is based on victory. If he 
 is not victorious he is not at all, for he is self-de- 
 pendent. Mr. H 's life was not endangered be- 
 cause he lost the way to camp — but because he lost 
 himself. He was surrounded with all the raw 
 material which furnishes the means that supply all 
 the necessaries of life, but because he was cut ofif 
 from immediate contact with the accustomed instru- 
 mentalities that turn that raw material into means 
 for the use of man, he despaired of a living, in the 
 midst of overflowing abundance, conjured up all the 
 
 horrors of death by starvation, lost his self-control, 
 self-direction, when the situation demanded self- 
 reliance, and ground himself into madness because 
 he stood face to face with the conditions of a self- 
 dependent, free being for the first time in his life. In 
 that situation he lost himself — the self he was ac- 
 quainted with, the dependent braggart, that vaunts 
 of his freedom! The self that presupposes as a 
 condition for its own being the existence of the entire 
 enginery of civil society! Of course, cut off from its 
 presupposition, it is lost." 
 
 "You are free, self-dependent — then live! But we 
 collapse into our little fractional inanity." 
 
 "There is a saying that does not apply to forest life, 
 but to life, which is this: 'Look before you leap,' 
 and the common mule, as I have observed, mindful 
 of this, will not leap over a closed fence four feet 
 high, simply because he cannot see when he jumps 
 the place where he will light. I come into a territory 
 new to me — forest or prairie, as the case may be. 
 The first thing I do is to locate myself at some point 
 or other, the connection of which I know with the 
 place I have occupied before, and to which I want 
 to return. From this point as a center, where I 
 store such parts of my equipment as I do not carry 
 about with me, I commence to examine the sur- 
 roundings — thoroughly, as far as I go; as, for ex- 
 ample, I can see from this camp two hundred yards 
 in every direction. This to-day is the length of my 
 chain. I now go to that big tree over yonder, that 
 is visible from here, and when I reach it I can see 
 camp, but I can also see further into the woods than 
 I can from here. This last space, the distance I can 
 see further from that tree, I add to my previous 
 acquisition; and this process I repeat from station 
 to station. Of course, the degree of care I exercise 
 will be governed by the special conditions of the 
 case. If I have a stream, or a drainage system, it 
 will simplify my labor. A lake, or slough, will as- 
 sist, but requires more care. Then bright, sunshiny 
 days and star-light nights will help. But the princi- 
 ple remains the same — don't go beyond the ground 
 with which you're acquainted without special, nay 
 exclusive attention to the road back. Of course, 
 science has devised means that render us independ- 
 ent in these matters, but these are not always at 
 hand, nor generally serviceable to the people who 
 most need them. Besides, for the detail demanded, 
 they are wholly inadequate. 
 
 "Another rule I never deviate from is this — I never 
 leave camp without my equipment — gun, ammunition, 
 well-protected, hatchet, knife, a pone of corn bread, 
 matches and a small quantity of salt, in water proof 
 cover. This outfit saves me from losing myself. 
 It may take me days to find the road back to camp, 
 but I am always at home. If I don't reach camp 
 one day, 1 will another — I am safe from suffering, 
 or severe injury. If I am led into the forest in the 
 pursuit of game beyond my depth, I know it; and I 
 know also that it will take me time to ascertain my 
 
X62 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 line to connect me back with my usual surroundings. 
 But these surroundings are nothing absolutely es- 
 sential to me. They are not all of me.' My con- 
 sciousness is more extensive, it has resources within 
 itself, it reaches beyond them, and if I lose them 
 or my connection with them, I don't lose my all — 
 myself!" 
 
 "That is the reason the Indian doesn't lose him- 
 self — because his home is everywhere," remarked 
 Mr. F . 
 
 "Yes, and no," I answered. "The Indian's home is 
 everywhere, as you say — that is, he has no home. 
 He has no consciousness filled with the institutional 
 life of the race, no will, no real purpose, beyond the 
 purpose to supply the needs of the hour. His will 
 is caprice — a notion of the moment sways him. But 
 we are filled, our consciousness is replete with the 
 rational, objective purposes; our wills, with valid 
 ends— valid beyond ourselves, valid for our nation 
 and race. These we receive without conscious exer- 
 tion on our part, by youthful training, by associa- 
 tion, by the life of the day, and they constitute our 
 unsconscious being. If we have never reflected upon 
 them, looked into them, and the relation which they 
 sustain to us, we are liable to just such contingencies 
 as happened to our friend. Remember, we may be 
 very familiar with this content, very glib in its use, 
 'smart as lightning' as the phrase goes, still we are 
 likely to lose ourselves, not merely in a patch of 
 woods, but in that largest forest, the jungle of life, 
 in the very midst of peoples and populations. By 
 turning our attention upon it, however, we with- 
 draw out of it, we possess it, and not it us. We 
 value it, we play with it, use it for our ends — become 
 self-dependent. In that attitude, and in that attitude 
 alone, we do not lose ourselves. Let the world wag. 
 We at least are at home — have a roof over our head, 
 though it be but the naked sky." 
 
 "But you do not eat, Mr. B ," said Mrs. 
 
 F . 
 
 "No, my mind refuses. Give me a cup of un- 
 mixed bouillon. This you will observe is not the 
 idea of the ancient Stoics; it is the reverse of it. 
 They had both hands full — occupied with holding 
 the door shut, that excluded the outer world. I, on 
 the contrary, want it to enter, but as guest and 
 servant, not as master and proprietor of the house. 
 But, excuse me. I am talking incoherently about 
 things that concern nobody. Come, my little man, 
 shall we skin your deer? You know I — that is, we 
 must tan the hide and prepare the head and horns 
 for your room." 
 
 "Yes, he told me all about it. It was too big for 
 his Tittle head to keep," said his mother. "But, you 
 know, I must leave for home to-morrow, Mr. 
 
 B , and you can't get it ready by that time to 
 
 take with us." 
 
 "No, not the hide; but I can prepare the head. 
 How would it do, Theodore, if we were to swap — you 
 take the big one and let me have the small head?" 
 
 "I would like that, but I wasn't there when you 
 killed the big one." 
 
 "That is so, my darling child; you would have 
 nothing to hang upon it in your memory. The first 
 day of your young life, spent in a real forest! I 
 tell you what we will do. You shall have both of 
 them; and if we get another one, you shall have 
 that, too. Then we will place the big one in the 
 middle, and the two smaller ones, one on each side. 
 That would complete the rack." 
 
 "Yes," said he, "and then put the eagle on the 
 top — with its feathers on, I mean! It will die, any- 
 how; it doesn't eat anything." 
 
 "How is that, mother? Can you improve the ar- 
 rangement?" I asked. 
 
 "No, and we shall have it made, if Theodore will 
 study right well and get all his lessons," she said. 
 
 "But how can he keep from doing that if he has 
 a teacher? How could the whole world keep him 
 
 from learning, Mrs. F ? The question only is, 
 
 what lesson ought he to learn first, so as to make 
 the next one productive of most profit? And that is 
 a matter for the teacher to determine, for his skill 
 consists in so conducting the child, so surrounding 
 him, as to make the child seek the lesson. If he does 
 this he is a teacher, and each lesson is a revelation, 
 an enjoyment, the highest vouchsafe to child or man. 
 Of course,. this may not be possible at the factory, 
 the school where you deal with things in gross — but 
 what is the meaning of his father's toil? Surely not 
 the millions themselves, but those millions as im- 
 plements. Mother, endeavor to see that they are 
 employed to feed the genius of your son. Develop 
 that. Oh, just one man of genius and what are all the 
 millions in the light of that! One Aristotle, one 
 Homer, one Sophocles, and what are the treasures 
 stored, or that were stored at Delphi, compared to 
 that! One Goethe, one Hegel, one Shakespeare, 
 one Calderon, one Dante, one Moliere even, and your 
 nation is immortal, its speech eternal, because 
 freighted with the abiding! Pardon me, Mrs. 
 F , I am e-xcited. I am not at myself on ac- 
 count of the night I spent." 
 
 "You certainly do me wrong, Mr. B ," said 
 
 Mr. F , "if you think that I do not appreciate 
 
 your fondness for my child, or the high destiny you 
 would crown him with if it was in your power. 
 But what can we do? The genius of our people is 
 employed elsewhere; and genius alone can be of ser- 
 vice to genius. The world man of ancient times, 
 Alexander, of Macedon, was trained by the world 
 thinker, Aristotle. Show me the man and I will 
 pay him. But I look in vain to the academic voca- 
 tion. It is formal, necessarily so, perhaps, but still 
 it is dead — routine. It delivers what it received. 
 There is no freedom of adjustment and without that 
 no individual endowment, such as is worthy to be 
 called genius, can be assisted. I have met one man 
 that can assist me in my specialty and that is your- 
 self. In your presence I become active — I see. In 
 the presence of others my inner eye closes — I am 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 163 
 
 blind. They talk of what is. Who doesn't know that? 
 But when it comes to look for what ought to be, 
 they stare as if they saw a ghost. They don't even 
 understand the attitude, the manner of approaching 
 the question. It has been on my tongue more than 
 once to ask you to take charge of my children, help 
 them, train them into an appreciation of an intel- 
 lectual life; but I know you and your circumstances 
 I see the impossibility of such an undertaking. But 
 if 3'ou will — drop all other engagements and come 
 to us — I will compensate you and so will my chil- 
 dren. Do you join me in this, mother." 
 
 "Most earnestly," she answered. "From my very 
 soul, dearest! Oh, it would lift such a burden from 
 
 my heart! Mr. B , I can not help but see, from 
 
 the instances that occur in every day life, what you 
 have seen on your first meeting with my child, that 
 he deserves what we are unable to give him our- 
 selves, and are unable to command in the market. 
 If j'ou can not take charge of him, help us with 
 your council. You are acquainted with people of 
 collegiate education and perhaps you might assist us 
 to find the man." 
 
 "I see what is needed, but do not see it in my- 
 self. What I can I will do to help you find it. In 
 the meantime you are doing more than you are per- 
 haps aware of. The love and open-hearted confi- 
 dence that exists between you and your son, cherish 
 it — sacrifice everything but that. Keep that intact, 
 pure, and all else is possible. But don't strain it 
 with temporary, evanescent restrictions. He must 
 remain unacquainted with any wrong so wrong that 
 he can not talk to you about it with perfect open- 
 ness. Don't force him to create a world of his 
 own by multiplicity of insignificant requirements 
 that have no substantial value, but are irksome to 
 him — a world that he has to fence off from you by 
 subterfuges, half truths and misrepresentations! It 
 is by these insignificant trivialities, senseless to ab- 
 surdity, that childhood is trained. Don't furnish them 
 as the brick and mortar, to build up a wall between 
 you and him — and all on the side of the will is safe, 
 and that is the first. Remember, his will is caprice, 
 filled with a content evanescent beyond expression, 
 but perennial, inexhaustible in fecundity. It is this 
 fecundity, the bearing capacity of the tree, that is 
 to be ennobled by grafting, not pruned into a shade 
 tree. The shears and pruning hook — their necessity 
 is evidence of neglect on the part of the gardener; 
 his finger and thumb nail are all sufficient, if used 
 in time, and far better, as they leave no scar to 
 disfigure without and cause dryrot within. Don't 
 train the Devil into your child by trivial require- 
 ments and neglects, and you save yourself the pain, 
 and the child the agony, of the ceremony of exorcism, 
 of casting him out — not to mention, that he seldom 
 leaves empty-handed. I have seen babes educated 
 at three months old to earn their living by bawlmg 
 for it; and all the instructions they had received was 
 mere neglect, with the remark, perhaps — 'Just wait a 
 bit, mother is fixing her hair. M»ma will come 
 
 directly; that is a nice baby!' Of course, the little 
 one understood all about that, in its own way. To it 
 this language meant — 'Louder, louder!' To impress 
 this interpretation as a true one, the mother would 
 even resort, in extreme cases, to mechanical means. 
 Mother of a lump of clay, she uses the paddle to 
 give it form! Yes, even this is possible with this 
 wondrous birth, grasping within itself all — from 
 cloud to Godhead! With the cloud it shrinks, yields 
 to external pressure, and with divine susceptibility 
 it drinks with insatiable eagerness the faintest flush 
 of maternal affection. Oh, motherhood, how you 
 can degrade yourself! But come, Theodore, we must 
 attend to our game." 
 
 I now examined our birds, all of which I found 
 carefully laid down on the ground, and covered from 
 the effects of the sun. Jochen had attended to this 
 in the morning before he left camp, as was proper. 
 I renewed the hay, of which we had a liberal supply, 
 and as the sun dipped below the top of the trees, I 
 hanged them up to give them the benefit of the cool 
 night air. I then took down the deer, and dressed 
 
 the big one for Mrs. F to take with her to the 
 
 city. 
 
 "What has become of my birds, Mr. B ," 
 
 asked Mrs. F . "The two, I mean, that you 
 
 gave me yesterday to have mounted?" 
 
 "They are all right," I answered, "not a feather is 
 injured on either." 
 
 "But what are we going to do with all the rest?" 
 
 "The turkeys you take home and distribute among 
 your friends. The swans, all the full grown birds, I 
 mean, and there are only three young ones in the 
 lot, you take, and have the skins prepared for furs 
 for yourself and your little daughters. The furriers 
 pluck the feathers and leave the down, which is an 
 exquisite white color and as soft as — down on the 
 skin. This they dress and use for ladies' wear. Of 
 course, it is costly, but not to us; you can afford 
 
 to wear it. By the by, Mr. F killed a fish 
 
 otter, too. The skin is nearly dressed and it is one 
 of the most costly pelts in the market." 
 
 "Where is it? Can I see it?" she asked. 
 
 "Why not," I answered, and I got and showed her 
 the skin. 
 
 "Now, Mr. B , I have caught you!" she ex- 
 claimed. "That is not an otter. I have a set at 
 home and you can't fool me on that. My otter furs 
 are as soft as down itself; not hairy like this!" she 
 said. 
 
 "No? Why that is strange! But I killed the 
 animal and it certainly looked like an otter. Its skin 
 doesn't feel nor look like your furs! How is this, 
 Henry?" asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Very simple; come here and I will show you," I 
 answered. I placed the skin on the table, flesh side 
 down, and let one end hang over the side. I then 
 took a table knife and plucked a piece as large as 
 
 my hand and asked Mr. F whether it looked 
 
 like otter now." 
 
 The good lady stood by and as she saw the result 
 
i64 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 of the operation exclaimed, with something of vexa- 
 tion in her voice: 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! Mr. B , you wear a person out! 
 
 You identify everything you wear, eat or drink in 
 its natural condition! I thought I had you at fault 
 for once!" 
 
 "It is in that condition that man finds the means 
 to supply his wants. To recognize them in their 
 natural condition and to prepare them for his use 
 is man's special prerogative. You don't blame me 
 because I am a man?" I answered. 
 • "No, I don't," she said, "but can I take this with 
 me, too?" 
 
 "Yes, the dressing I gave it is only temporary. 
 I did not want to dry it, nor run the risk of having 
 it spoil on our hands. You take it with you and 
 have it oil-dressed and plucked." 
 
 "What do you intend to do with that deer?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "I am preparing it for you. It is too fine to be 
 wasted here in camp. It will last you, with proper 
 care, until Christmas; and such a piece of meat is 
 
 not to be picked up every day. When Mr. F 
 
 comes home he will want something to eat. You 
 saw at dinner, he doesn't nibble any more. He has 
 forgotten that he has a stomach, except when it 
 calls for something to eat. I should like very 
 much if he would eat game until New Year's, any- 
 how — I mean make it his chief food; and that re- 
 quires that we should have an eye to variety. Now, 
 after a week or ten days, we cannot expect to kill 
 Tenison that is of prime quality." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "The animal was at his prime for this year a week 
 or ten days ago. It now deteriorates from day to 
 day, until a week hence, when it becomes hard eat- 
 ing. A little of it then goes a great way. It is 
 boarding-house venison; and a month from now it is 
 wholly unfit for human food. Of course, the female, 
 the doe, improves in flesh until winter sets in; but 
 then that flesh is not venison at any season of the 
 year." 
 
 "Why, you surprise me! I didn't know that the 
 sex of the animal made any difference in the quality 
 ©f the meat," said Mr. F . 
 
 "Well, you likely have never tasted venison steak, 
 You no doubt have eaten deer meat, but we will 
 try a steak for breakfast from this fellow; although 
 he is a little young and has hardly been killed long 
 tnough." 
 
 With that I took down the other deer and placed 
 it on the log. 
 
 "There," said I, "you see why the dog bayed the 
 animal in the pond. You see that left hind foot? It 
 was shattered by a bullet some days ago and the 
 animal came to the lake — the water cure establish- 
 ment, the only establishment patronized by the 
 denizens of the forests and prairies — to heal the 
 injury. The dog came up on him and he took refuge 
 in the pond to defend himself from immediate dan- 
 
 ger, as his lame foot and limb prevented his finding 
 safety in flight." 
 
 "Poor fellow! And then you had to kill him," 
 said Mrs. F . 
 
 "Yes, I find my stomach refuses to digest the 
 inorganic — such as stones and mud — and I have to 
 rely upon organic nature for a living. Then, there 
 is a prejudice against those birds and beasts, such 
 as buzzards and hyenas, who live upon the remains 
 of nature's butcher shop; and so I join the eagle, 
 who refuses food unless of its own killing. I slay 
 right and left, in both the vegetable and animal 
 kingdoms. Nay, sometimes I think I honor the sub- 
 ject self-conscious intelligence, the divine in man." 
 
 "It makes no difference, Mary, where you start," 
 
 said Mr. F . "At the wounded hoof of a deer, 
 
 or the soul-sparkling eye of a child, he will find a 
 way to reach the same center!" 
 
 "And what is there in all these eyes," I answered,' 
 "this luxuriant vegetable world that looks at us 
 here that is abiding but that center — that is worth 
 noting, that does not vanish while you are noting it — 
 but that center? 
 
 "Here, Theodore, give me a hand. Now, you see, 
 we will fix your horns that you take with you." 
 
 With eager eyes he followed every stroke of the 
 knife, saw and hatchet, from the first incision until 
 the trophy was ready for the mounter. As the sun 
 went down all was in ship-shape, and we retired 
 to the glowing fire, for protection against the cool 
 air that creeps over the forest with the approaching 
 shades of night. But the labors of the day and the 
 excitment of last night cut the most enjoyable hours 
 of camp life, the evening hours around the roaring 
 fire, quite short and deprived Mrs. F of a de- 
 lightful experience. Theodore was soon asleep 
 
 in her lap and Mr. F with Mr. H.-P 
 
 even showed signs of fatigue. We therefore retired 
 quite early, and as I had the advantage of some six 
 hours sleep, during the day, I improved the op- 
 portunity to note down in hasty phrase the happen- 
 ings as they occurred, intending to improve the 
 form at more leisure. 
 
 Mr. H was still asleep. I examined him 
 
 from time to time and found his condition improv- 
 ing. A slight perspiration rested on his forehead, 
 and his breathing was free from all unnatural symp- 
 toms. The heavy dose of quinine had passed off 
 and what at first was artificial had passed into a 
 perfect, natural sleep. Twice he had called for water 
 since 12 o'clock and relished a drink with a normal 
 appetite, especially the last time. His pulse was still 
 excited, but not beyond what might be attributed 
 to the medicine administered. I felt perfectly satis- 
 fied with his condition and applied myself to my 
 work without disturbance, save that Sip would now 
 and then grow restless, give mouth and then come 
 into my tent as if he had something to communicate. 
 To quiet him I adjusted the reflector to our lantern 
 * and placed the light in such a position as to illumine 
 the forest beyond the trees, on which our game was 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 i6S 
 
 hung. This seemed to give him great satisfaction, and 
 I had worked for perhaps three hours uninterrupted- 
 ly, when he came rushing into the tent in great alarm, 
 I arose and reached for my gun, but before I could 
 step to the front of the tent the serenade was in full 
 blast — a pack of wolves in full chorus! When I 
 reached the shade of the reflector they were hustling 
 beyond the light and I failed to get a shot, especially 
 as Sip, with marvelous courage, was ready to chase 
 the whole cowardly crew, as long as he himself was 
 
 in sight of my gun. I called aloud to Mrs. F 
 
 to wake up and enjoy the music. 
 
 "I got it up for your special benefit and I don't 
 think it nice at all that you don't show the slightest 
 appreciation!" 
 
 Of course, I had heard her voice fluttering with 
 excitement as she aroused her husband. 
 
 "What in the world is that, Mr. B ?" she 
 
 called out. 
 
 "Nothing," said I, "but some of our neighbors 
 
 who are calling on Mr. H — ■ to give expression, 
 
 in a public manner, to their regrets that they were 
 not at home last night to receive him with due cere- 
 mony when he called at their village — the wolves 
 that I feared last night and laugh at to-night." 
 
 "Great heavens! How many are there? It sounds 
 as if there were at least a hundred or two!" said Mr. 
 F . 
 
 "That is hard to say. You can never tell the num- 
 ber by the noise they make, no more than you can 
 tell the number of people an editor of a political 
 newspaper means when he says 'we'. All that we 
 can say with certainty is that there is one wolf 
 about and there may be more." 
 
 By this time everybody in camp was aroused — 
 even to Mr. H . 
 
 "Henry, are those fellows howling for meat?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I think it likely." 
 
 "Tell them to wait. I will join them. I am as 
 hungry as they dare to be," said he. 
 
 "I am glad to hear it. Will." 
 
 "And so am I!" said Mrs. F . 
 
 "Mrs. F ," I called out, "permit me to intro- 
 
 duce to you Mr. H- 
 
 -, our convalescent hunter, 
 
 fresh from the forest primeval I" 
 
 "I am happy to make his acquaintance, but de- 
 cline to shake hands until after breakfast," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Your most obedient, madam. That will give me 
 an additional reason to hasten that already wished 
 for meal. Henry, you're up; do get. me a mouthful 
 to eat — anything will do," said Mr. H . 
 
 "Anything will do, you say?" 
 
 "Yes, anything!" 
 
 "But anything is too .arge for me to handle. Sup- 
 pose you take this bowl of bouillon that has been 
 waiting for you, while I go and get you a plate of 
 giblets and toast that I have been nursing before 
 the fire all the evening." 
 
 "Great Scott! That goes to the right spot. I feel 
 it down to my big toe nail." 
 
 By this time the wolves had retired to a respecta- 
 ble distance and although we could still hear one 
 strike up its diabolical yodle every now and then, 
 
 the noise gradually died away. After Mr. H 
 
 had finished his meal — although too meager for his 
 appetite — I bade good night once more to everybody, 
 and this time I, too, resigned myself to sleep. 
 
 October i6, 1856. 
 
 This morning I awoke, the laughing stock of camp. 
 It was half past seven before I knew that I was still 
 in the land of the living — as they say to spin out the 
 phrase, when people have little to say and many 
 words to say it with. They roasted me from all 
 sides, except my little friend and he came to my 
 defense with: 
 
 "Mother, Uncle Henry was tired and he slept 
 good." 
 
 "Yes, my son. Yesterday he was sick because 
 his friend was not well and he did not go to 
 
 sleep last night until he thought Mr. H was 
 
 out of danger," said Mrs. F . 
 
 "That is the reason he slept so late this morning — 
 just like you do when I am sick." 
 
 "Yes, my little talker." 
 
 While eating breakfast, served by Mrs. F , 
 
 Jochen came in, bent double under a spike buck, 
 which he threw from his shoulder with a grunt of 
 relief. 
 
 "Where did you pick him up, Mr. H.-P ?" I 
 
 asked. 
 
 "Well, you see, when I saw that you killed deer 
 with a shot gun, I thought I would try it, too; and 
 as I found a place, near the celery lake, the other 
 day, where they had tramped about a good deal, I 
 picked me out a tree and made me a pulpit, to preach 
 from. I went there this morning and got this one, 
 but the big fellow, with a thorn bush on his head, 
 I lost." 
 
 "What do you mean by saying that you made your- 
 self a pulpit, to preach from," asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "It is a slang phrase," I remarked, "in use among 
 the shooting people of his country. It means a 
 stand, or seat, in the top of a tree, some twelve, 
 fifteen or twenty feet above the ground, to shoot 
 from. A tree is selected easy of access, and in gun- 
 shot of some place of favorite resort for the deer — 
 usually a mating place at this season of the year. 
 The deer, not acquainted with any danger from the 
 sky, from above, approaches without suspicion, and 
 is easily killed from such an ambush — provided the 
 person has the patience to wait, and the industry 
 to reach the place at the proper time. 
 
 "But, how did you lose the big fellow, Jochen? Did 
 you shoot him, or did he get away unhurt?" 
 
 "No, I shot him; but he did not fall. I watched 
 him and after a jump or two he walked off a piece 
 and laid down. When I got from the tree I went to 
 him. He made a face at me and kept nodding his 
 
i66 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 head with every breath he drew. I stood and looked 
 at him, thinking he would die. I didn't like to shoot 
 him anymore — didn't want to tear him all to pieces. 
 After I had stood there a good bit, looking at him, 
 and he looking at me very cross like, he got up and 
 walked off into the cane — and I kept looking after 
 him, never thinking about my gun until he was out 
 of sight. Then I remembered that I had a gun, but 
 it was too late. I have looked high and low for him, 
 but can't find a hair of him. I hate it because of 
 his horns," said Jochen, scratching his head. 
 
 "Is he very large?" I asked. 
 
 "As big as the biggest, with horns on his head like 
 a thorn bush! But didn't he look cross at me! Every 
 hair on him seemed to point to his head, the wrong 
 way, like!" 
 
 "Likely he walked toward the big lake?" 
 
 "Yes, in that direction." 
 
 "How far was he from it when you saw him last?" 
 
 "Not over three-quarters of a mile." 
 
 "When did you lose sight of him?" 
 
 "Just a little after sun-up." 
 
 "All right, come, sit down and eat your breakfast. 
 I will clean up the boat, and when you get through 
 we will go and bring him in." 
 
 "Yes, but it is too late. I don't think Sip can take 
 the track. You know, Henry, he is no hound." 
 
 "Never mind about Sip; we will not want him. 
 The buck is dead by this time and all we need to do 
 is to bring him into camp." 
 
 "But don't we have to find him first?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, but there is no trouble about that. From 
 what you say the buck is dead and that is all that is 
 necessary. The finding of him is a small matter." 
 
 "And you think you will find him, Mr. B ?" 
 
 asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Of course we will find him. From the actions of 
 
 the animal, as Mr. H.-P describes them, he 
 
 can not live, is dead by this time. How did the 
 deer stand when you shot, Jochen?" 
 
 "Broad-side to me, and I held on the shoulder 
 blade." 
 
 "Certainly, or the buck would not have panted as 
 he did. He is hit in the lungs. What shot did you 
 shoot?" 
 
 "Some shot out of your pocket." 
 
 "Right or left?" 
 
 "I took it from the left pocket of your jacket." 
 
 "Just so. No. 00 buck-shot. It killed the young 
 deer in its tracks — but the old fellow carried off the 
 larger portion of the discharge on his ribs and 
 shoulder blade. Enough, however, got through be- 
 tween the ribs to finish him by this time." 
 
 When I said this Mrs. F slipped off to her 
 
 husband, who had a great time with Theodore and 
 
 Mr. H , fishing behind our fire place. I had 
 
 not got quite through cleaning up and arranging the 
 boat when Pat came down the bank with the hamper 
 full of provisions. 
 
 "What do you mean to do with that, Pat? I al- 
 ways carry something to eat when I go into the 
 
 woods, but I don't need a restaurant on wheels or 
 aboard my boat to make me comfortable." 
 
 "It is the mistress, Mr. B , who has changed 
 
 her mind; she has. It is after going with you she 
 is and not going to town this day," said Pat. 
 
 "Oh, that makes a difference." 
 
 "Oh, there! Mrs. F and you folks! Who is 
 
 going in this boat? I want to know, so as to ar- 
 range the seats," I called, at the top of my voice. 
 
 This brought Messrs. F and H down to 
 
 the landing. 
 
 "Mary wants to stay with us another day, and I 
 reckon you better arrange so we all can go except 
 
 Pat; he will keep camp. Mr. H I suppose is 
 
 strong enough to go; it would be rather lonesome in 
 camp for him," said Mr. F . 
 
 "It depends upon what the doctor says," replied 
 Mr. H . 
 
 "The doctor says you may go, on condition you 
 don't leave the boat, unless Theodore ib with you to 
 take care of you!" 
 
 "A good hit," said Mrs. F . 
 
 "Well, I'll agree to go under that condition," said 
 Mr. H . "I reckon I will make out with Theo- 
 dore's care. It may not amount to much, but then 
 I hope I will not need much." 
 
 "All that he has and that is of the best. Simple- 
 hearted reverence for what surrounds him; and no 
 conceited assumption of superiority above conditions 
 that are strange and not even known to him. But 
 we must prepare camp before we leave. Jochen, 
 please show Pat how to take care of the game. Has 
 it been loaded on the wagon already?" 
 
 "No, not yet." 
 
 "All right; see that it is attended to and come 
 down as quickly as you can — I want to get away as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 I then went for my gun and jacket. As I left 
 the tent Sip asked if he could go along. I told him 
 'no,' to staj- and take care of the camp. He took the 
 order in good part, but seemed not to like it much — 
 looked off to one side as if thinking about some- 
 thing. 
 
 When I returned to the boat I found everybody 
 
 seated — Mrs. F with Theodore, at the rudder; 
 
 Mr. F and Mr. H.-P at the big oars, 
 
 Mr. H— 
 
 - in the bow of the boat and my seat 
 with the double oars left vacant. I requested Mr. 
 H to exchange seats with me. 
 
 "You need not to use the oars; we have plenty of 
 time. We don't want to rush over the lake — but I 
 must sit where I can see!" 
 
 "You don't expect to see the dead deer from the 
 lake," asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Oh yes, but I do; that is what I take this seat for." 
 
 "Do you expect to see him float in the lake," 
 asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Not exactly — just row slowly, don't strain your- 
 self. By the by, I forgot something!" 
 
 "In camp?" 
 
 "No, I have it in my pocket. Here, Mr. H , 
 
V' 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 167 
 
 undo that spoon and give it to Mrs. F — • and 
 
 Theodore to use from the stern of the boat. I haven't 
 got time, or I would fix it myself." 
 
 Air. H pretended he did not know what a 
 
 spoon was and how it was used; but he handled it 
 like an expert, and in a very short time he had to 
 face about in his seat to attend to the fish, as Mrs. 
 
 F and Theodore caught them with the artificial 
 
 lure. 
 
 "What a pity we have no stringer! You are the 
 most careless mortal that ever undertook to do any- 
 thing' Here we are catching the finest of fish 
 with nothing to keep them alive!" exclaimed Mr. 
 H . 
 
 "Of course, Mr. Editor, if I just had had the op- 
 portunity to consult you about the intricate question, 
 whether it was necessary to have a stringer if a per- 
 son wanted to string a fish, you would no doubt 
 have been able to advise me upon the subject; but 
 then you were so busy, so much occupied doing 
 nothing, that I did not like to disturb you; and so 
 came away without anything but this makeshift," 
 said I, throwing him an eighteen foot stringer. 
 
 "I did not ask for a clothes-line! Where is the 
 cross stick to keep the fish from slipping off," he 
 growled. 
 
 "I never use a cross-stick. Just fasten the lower 
 end to the gunnel of the boat, then string your fish, 
 throw them over-board and fasten the needle where 
 you have fastened the other end of the line. That is 
 the reason the line is so long." 
 
 With quarreling and catching fish — one a six- 
 pound bass, which brought the whole crew to its 
 feet — we reached the inlet to the dry slough, and 
 when we had passed it I gave my whole attention 
 to what transpired in the air ahead of us, over the 
 lake and the adjacent woods on the southern shore. 
 I noticed a large oak reaching some distance above 
 its neighbors that seemed the favorite resting place 
 for crows. No matter from what direction they 
 came, if their line of flight passed within sight of 
 that tree they changed their direction and alighted 
 on that tree. Nor did I see any of them leave the 
 place. I had watched this for some time when I saw 
 one coming across the lake, making directly for the 
 southern shore. As it passed, or was in the act of 
 passing the tree, on the west, it halted in its 
 flight, gave three short calls and dived into the 
 foliage eastward. 
 
 "Please draw in the troll, Mrs. F ; we must 
 
 stop here for a few minutes," said I. 
 
 "Why, you don't see anything of the deer," said 
 Mr. H . 
 
 "No, but I did not know but what we might get a 
 favorable sign here. You see, there are some birds 
 flying about, and if they should pass to the right — " 
 
 "Gammon! Hunt dead deer by augury," called 
 out Mr. H . 
 
 "That's right," said I, as I traced another bird, 
 obviously a mate who had heard the call of the 
 first, to the same place. I waited and in less than 
 
 five minutes the whole family — seven in number — 
 had entered beneath the shade of the same oak, from 
 the same direction. 
 
 "I think we need to go no further," said I. "We 
 will land along-side that large log there, that reaches 
 in from shore to deep water. We can manage the 
 buck, if he is a large one, with more convenience 
 there." 
 
 "But where is he, Henry," asked Mr. H . 
 
 "Under that big oak there, not far from shore." 
 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "By augury, Mr. H . The inquest is being 
 
 held, and I heard the coroner read the verdict — 
 'Dead, dead, dead!' Didn't you hear that crow a 
 little while ago? They are busy now closing his 
 eyes — that is taking them out, so that they are sure 
 he will not open them again." 
 
 Saying this I reached the log, walked it to the 
 bank, and as I mounted the latter the inquest, con- 
 sisting of some fifteen or twenty fellows all in 
 black, broke up with considerable confusion. The 
 space was comparatively free from cane and this the 
 old stager had selected, because it was beneath his 
 dignity to seek cover, relying upon his vigilance to 
 detect and his powers to meet any emergency. He 
 was uninjured except the right eye, which as he was 
 lying on his left side, was eaten out. 
 
 "What do all these birds mean, Henry?" asked 
 
 Mr. F , as he reached the top of the bank with 
 
 Mr. H.-P . 
 
 "What I told you. Don't you see the buck," said I. 
 
 "Great Scott, man, he's as big as a mule! Wait, 
 don't disturb him; I want Mary to see him?" said 
 Mr. F . 
 
 "Of course," I answered, "and Theodore may bring 
 
 Mr. H , too, to teach him the art of hunting 
 
 dead deer by augury — by the flight of birds!" 
 
 When Mr. F stepped down the bank, Jochen 
 
 caught me by the hand and said: "Sonny, I wouldn't 
 take anything for this!" 
 
 "For the buck, Jochen?" 
 
 "No, for you; for the way it happened." 
 
 And now all hands came up to see and wonder. 
 
 "Is he not very large, Mr. B ?" said Mrs. 
 
 F . 
 
 "One of the largest, if not the largest that I have 
 seen," I answered. 
 
 "Is he in good condition?" she asked. 
 
 "I have not examined him closely, but his coat is 
 almost black on the back and that means that he 
 has not deteriorated as yet to any extent. No, his 
 neck is not swollen. He is tip top." 
 
 "Uncle, how many are eight and nine," asked Theo- 
 dore. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "He has eight ends, no points, on this horn and 
 nine on that. Can't I hang lots of things on them!" 
 
 "Yes, my son. But you want to find out how many 
 eight and nine are; now let us see. You say he has 
 nine points on this horn?" 
 
 "Yes.* 
 
i68 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Now then, add this one on the other horn and 
 that makes ten." 
 
 "Yes, and this is eleven, and this is twelve. Oh, I 
 see; it is seventeen. He has seventeen points, and 
 eight and nine are seventeen," his eyes fairly soark- 
 ling with triumph. 
 
 "He must be a noble looking beast when he stands 
 in his native habitat — perfectly at liberty, unre- 
 strained and untrammeled," said Mr. F . 
 
 "The finest embodiment of freedom that I have 
 met in nature! To see him on an October morning 
 at sunrise examine the eastern point of a mountain 
 spur in search of society, or sniflf the air at a 
 distant sound of danger — to watch the poise of that 
 head, the play of the ears and nostrils, the ex- 
 pressions of the eye — 'tis the sight of a lifetime! 
 But the loss of the eye disfigures him. Let us turn 
 him over," I replied. 
 
 The other side, however, did not improve his ap- 
 pearance, because soiled more or less with blood. 
 
 "You are too late," said I, as I saw the first buz- 
 zard circling around above us, investigating the 
 question of what caused the gathering of crows, who 
 were still discussing the situation on the neighboring 
 trees. Some, the elder ones, no doubt, held to the 
 opinion that we would not move the carcass without 
 leaving them a handsome meal — the entrails. 
 
 "Do you think that those birds find their food by 
 
 scent or by sight, Mr. B , I mean the 
 
 scavengers, the buzzards," asked Mr. H . 
 
 "By both and neither in the manner that the ques- 
 tion is discussed in the books. Either view attributes 
 a sensitive organization to the bird wholly out of 
 keeping with its general mode of feeding. The 
 notion that it can see or smell at the distance of 
 miles is absurd." 
 
 "But how do they collect so rapidly from all 
 directions and distances — you see how they come!" 
 
 "In the same manner that I came to the deer and 
 brought you here. They are distributed over the 
 country, hovering or sailing about in search of food. 
 One sees a collection of birds, of kindred habits 
 with itself, like this one, the crows. It goes to 
 see what they have. Its neighbor or neighbors see 
 it They see from its motion that it has a definite 
 object in view. Its general survey of space has 
 ceased, it makes for a definite place and swoops 
 down. That is sufficient for them. They follow, and 
 their neighbors follow them. Or one in the general 
 search finds something; the rest do not see what it 
 has, but they see it and its motion. That guides 
 them. It is the same with the migration of squirrels, 
 for example. It is a well-established fact that they 
 will follow the mast. The question is, how does the 
 squirrel that lives thirty, forty, fifty or more miles 
 from the place where the mast is, find out in which 
 direction to travel to get to it? The answer is, it 
 has neighbors; the whole space between it and the 
 mast is populated at the beginning of the migration. 
 But it finds some bright morning that its neighbor 
 to the east, south, west or north has moved, or is 
 
 not at home when it calls; it takes its track to 
 see where it has gone. Apply this to the district 
 and the squirrel that lives within a hundred yards 
 of the line of the mast becomes the guide to its 
 neighbor, which lives on the side where there is 
 none; it to its neighbor and it in turn to its, 
 throughout the barren district. See how these birds 
 come! If you step to the lake where you can watch 
 their motion in the air, and also convince yourself 
 of the physical impossibility that the sense of sight 
 should be their guide, you will see that what I state 
 is correct. They follow each other. Each hunts 
 for all. If it had not been so cold this morning, 
 when these fellows don't stir abroad, I would not 
 have had to rely upon the crows alone as guides. 
 The other birds would have assisted them to show 
 me the deer. 
 
 "But come, we must be doing. The buck is still 
 warm and will drain well if I open him. Will you 
 
 pick nuts, Mrs. F , or would you like to see how 
 
 a deer or beast is opened? It is not a pleasant sight, 
 although it has to be done." 
 
 "Whatever is useful and necessary is pleasant 
 enough for me, Mr. B . I don't think refine- 
 ment consists in ignorance. It is not necessary be- 
 cause I am a woman that I should be ignorant of 
 those things that I can not live without. I stayed 
 here to-day in order to see how you would find and 
 handle this deer, and you will greatly oblige me if 
 you will just go on as if I were not present. It is 
 more interesting to me to see how a man makes 
 everything in nature, the living and the dead, serve 
 his purpose than to sit at home reading a novel, or 
 gossip about the last wedding or the fashion of our 
 fall bonnets." 
 
 "Don't flatter him for heaven's sake, Mrs. F ^! 
 
 There will be no living with him if he thinks he 
 enjoys your appreciation," said Mr. H . 
 
 "I don't know what you call flattering a man, Mr. 
 
 H , and I don't see how a person could manage 
 
 to flatter a man like him," she replied. 
 
 "Come, Jochen, give us a hand. Theodore, you 
 
 must help Mr. H.-P. ; hold that fore foot — 
 
 that's right; just hold it that way!" 
 
 I now opened the buck, removed the viscera and 
 then turned him to drain. While taking the net from 
 the entrails — a mass of tallow, that I estimated to 
 weigh at least five pounds — we were startled for a 
 moment by a great fuss in a brier thicket, some 
 hundred yards or so down the wind. At first I did 
 not recognize what it was, but soon distinguished the 
 voice of Sip — crying out as if in great pain. I 
 seized my gun, that was leaning against a tree in 
 convenient reach, and made a step or two in the 
 direction; when I saw the dog come out of the 
 thicket, wiping his face, first with one paw and then 
 with the other. 
 
 "Go for him, Sip! Go for him! Never mind your 
 face!" I called out. 
 
 "Sic him. Sip! Sic him!" hallooed Jochen, who 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 169 
 
 came to my side with 'grussel greite,' his gun, in 
 his hand. 
 
 "What is it, what is it?" asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Nothing but a cat — perhaps a big one called 
 catamount — that has been attracted by the scent of 
 the deer and ventured from his burrow close by and 
 was disturbed by the dog. 
 
 "There! You hear that! Sip has got him," cried 
 Jochen. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Up a tree! Has made him climb a tree, and is 
 calling for help. Yes, yonder he is in that ash, which 
 stands in that thicket." 
 
 "Stop, Jochen! There are more than one. Come, 
 you go around so that they don't jump out," said I. 
 
 "Do you see them?" asked Mrs. F , coming 
 
 up to me with Theodore and her husband. 
 
 "Yes, I see two and there may be more. I think 
 it is an old one with her young. Keep your eyes 
 upon that tree, yonder, and you will see them 
 
 directly. They are likely to move as Mr. H.-P 
 
 approaches them from the other side." 
 
 "There, I saw something move in the lower fork!" 
 said Mrs. F . 
 
 "That is the old one. Let me see; would you like 
 
 to shoot her, Mr. F ? If you do, you must 
 
 take that tree there for a cover. Get up to it and 
 then shoot the old one. Be sure you get her; you 
 
 see she is dodging from Mr. H.-P , although 
 
 she keeps watching him." ^ 
 
 "No, you go and kill her. I might make a mis- 
 take", he answered. 
 
 With that I slipped into line with the tree, which I 
 used for cover, and soon Sip had his chance to get 
 his revenge. The remarkable thing was that al- 
 though his master dropped the four young ones, 
 one after the other out of the tree within sight of 
 the dog, he never quit the old cat. That was the 
 one to be attended to thoroughly. When I drew her 
 out of the briers, he had chewed her as soft as if 
 she had been worked on a hemp break. His face, 
 however, was not much better. It was one mass of 
 blood — checked ofT and furrowed by the vicious claws 
 of the cat. 
 
 "Come here, Sip! Come, poor fellow! That 
 teaches you how to meddle with a buzz saw." 
 
 While Jochen was condoling with Sip, I lighted a 
 fire and melted a piece of deer tallow. Then after 
 drying the dog's head thoroughly, I gave it a sub- 
 stantial plaster. That made him easy, although we 
 had to take him into the boat, as his eyes were 
 entirely closed. 
 
 "Now, good folks, how is it about lunch? Would 
 any of you have a snack to eat? It is past 12 
 o'clock and I want to step over here a little piece 
 
 to see Mr. H.-P 's pulpit, that he preached from 
 
 so effectively this morning before sun-up." 
 
 "You are not going to leave us here all alone," 
 said Mrs. F . 
 
 It isn't over half a mile from here; is it, Mr. H.- 
 P ?" 
 
 "No, I don't think it is farther than a mile and a 
 half. It is only a cat's jump from the mouth of the 
 dry slough," answered Jochen. 
 
 "Yes, I know. But that cat's jump of yours is 
 rather an indefinite measure of distances. If you 
 
 go, Mr. B , we go with you. We want to see 
 
 the place as well as you." 
 
 "That's all right, Mrs. F- 
 
 -, but that would be 
 
 likely to interfere with my purpose. You see, I want 
 
 Mr. F and Mr. H both to kill a deer 
 
 apiece before we break up camp; and I wanted to 
 see what the chances might be for them to do that 
 at that place. But if we all go, then we will make 
 a good many trails, and the game doesn't like to 
 walk in man's foot-prints, and in that way it might 
 leave that particular neighborhood." 
 
 "Well, then don't you go yourself. Let Mr. H.- 
 
 P take Mr. F and Mr. H to the 
 
 place when I am gone. He knows where it is and 
 the way to it from camp." 
 
 "Yes, but you see, Mrs. F , I did not know 
 
 but what you yourself might want to go with your 
 husband and see him kill a deer. I thought I would 
 look at the place, and if it suited me, I would make 
 a ladder for you to go up by, and fix you a seat, 
 where you could sit, if not with the same ease, at 
 least with the same safety as you sit in your own 
 parlor. Then you would have the opportunity to see 
 a deer — the doe with all her grace and purity of 
 movement, and the buck in his swagger and brag- 
 gadocio strut." 
 
 "Oh yes; and keep me here the whole week! No, 
 
 Mr. B , I must deny myself the pleasure of this 
 
 wonderful life; where every moment brings its reve- 
 lation. I must go home to-morrow!" 
 
 "I think, Henry, she is right," said Mr. F . 
 
 "I know she is. A mother's heart can not err 
 in a question of this kind, and her word is law. 
 Come then, let us eat lunch and after that we will 
 ship our deer, and then I propose we help Theodore 
 to gather some pecans. There are plenty in the 
 
 neighborhood, and Mr. H.-P and myself will 
 
 see whether we can not persuade some of them to 
 come down from the trees; while the rest of you 
 will help Theodore to pick them up. After that we 
 must go home, to see about dinner, and get every- 
 thing ready for you, Mrs. F , so that you can 
 
 have an early start. By this time to-morrow you 
 ought to be at the ferry." 
 
 "A good programme and here is for it," said Mr. 
 F , as he started to get the basket. 
 
 We divided up. Jochen cleaned the fish, I cheered 
 the fire, got the frying pan, some breakfast bacon 
 and a package of cornmeal together with salt and 
 
 pepper, out of the locker of the boat. Mr. H 
 
 brought some dry wood, and we soon were ready to 
 eat. We enjoyed the cup of coflfee, which Mrs. 
 F had prepared with special attention, with 
 
 "Only for a few minutes; I will be back directly. more than ordinary zest; especially Jochen. 
 
170 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "How did you manage, Mr. H.-P- 
 
 -, to miss 
 
 seeing that deer this morning? I saw your tracks 
 where you had been all around him." 
 
 "Within five steps of him, I expect, Henry. But, 
 you see, I never looked for him on such naked 
 ground. I expected to find him in the cane and 
 brier patches over yonder." 
 
 "Just so, and if it had been a young deer, or a 
 doe, the likelihood was that you would have found it 
 in such cover. But with an old residenter like this, 
 it is the opposite. Experience has taught him bet- 
 ter. He knows that if he hides from danger, that 
 he also hides the danger, and its approach from 
 himself, from his own sight and he can not meet it. 
 The eagle and every self-reliant bird or beast in 
 nature seeks the conspicuous places — never skulks in 
 hiding. The topmost limb of the tree, and dry at 
 that, where it can be seen for miles, but whence 
 It also can see as far if not farther — that is the 
 perch of the eagle. It never roosts or lights in a 
 tree, but on the very top of it. A clear, unobstructed 
 view of the surroundings is all it asks. What is 
 true of them is true, in a more eminent sense, of 
 man. The self-poised, self-reliant does not hide, 
 does not deal in subterfuges. Subterfuges, whether 
 of his own, or of his neighbor's creation, obstruct 
 his vision; and that is the one supreme need of man — 
 vision, sight, clear, penetrating, even to the very 
 center! 
 
 "And now are we ready to ship our deer? All 
 hands to the front." 
 
 It was no easy job, for even four of us, to handle 
 the beast; but by utilizing the log, alongside which 
 we had landed, as a gang plank and platform, we 
 succeeded in stowing him in the boat, without either 
 of us getting a ducking, or as much as a wet foot. 
 
 "But, uncle, you have forgotten our pussies," re- 
 minded Theodore. 
 
 "That is so," said I. "The pelts are worthless at 
 this season of the year, but the heads could be 
 prepared as excellent trophies. Shall I get them for 
 the little man, Mrs. F ?" 
 
 "By all means, Mr. B ; if you will be so 
 
 kind. I would like to keep them myself as re- 
 minders of the day," she answered. 
 
 Mr. H.-P and myself soon attended to what 
 
 was necessary to preserve the heads and necks of 
 the cats, and then we started east, for the pecan 
 flat, that I had noticed on the west side of the 
 slough which ends in the dry run southward. As we 
 reached the place we landed and picked out a tree 
 that was easy to climb, and that had abundance of 
 nuts of the right quality. The ground beneath was 
 covered with a considerable growth of grass, but 
 this was dry, and after tramping it around I com- 
 menced burning it off. This tickled little Theodore 
 wonderfully. 
 
 "See, mother, here are the nuts," he exclaimed, 
 as the fire had swept off the grass. "Now we can 
 find them." 
 
 His little hands eagerly brushed together soot, 
 ashes, dead nuts and hulls. 
 
 "Oh, look! How black!" 
 
 "Yes, you must wait a little." 
 
 Directly Jochen came with a bunch of buck brush, 
 tied in the form of a rough broom, and as I burned 
 he brushed and swept the ground clean as a thresh- 
 ing floor. When the space beneath the tree was 
 cleared, Jochen climbed up and commenced shaking 
 down the fruit. But they did not fall as readily as 
 was desirable for our limited time. I therefore cut 
 a pair of smooth hazel sticks, handed them to 
 Jochen and then went aloft. With these we sent the 
 nuts down to some purpose. We soon drove the 
 pickers from under the tree; as some of the fruit 
 was detached with the outer hull still closed and 
 adhering, which rendered the nut capable of giving 
 a person beneath a rather unpleasant thump on the 
 back, head or neck. But the pattering and hopping 
 about of the nuts as they fell to the ground proved 
 too much for little Theodore. Every now and 
 then he had to jump into the "rain," as he called it 
 and gather a handful, until a thump would send him 
 beyond the circle. 
 
 When we had the nuts on the ground, Jochen took 
 his broom and swept them together. 
 
 "That is not according to programme," said Mr. 
 
 F . "We have to gather, to pick up, what 
 
 you knocked down. Mary, what have we got with 
 us to put them in?" 
 
 "I don't know, dear, unless I empty the hamper? 
 I had no idea we were going to gather nuts by the 
 bushel!" 
 
 "I think we better empty the basket. Come, I will 
 help you," said Mr. F . 
 
 When they came with the hamper we had the 
 
 nuts in small piles, and before Mrs. F got 
 
 through arranging the contents of the basket in the 
 locker, and odd places of the boat, we came aboard 
 with our load. I now took my place at the oars and 
 
 we sent our craft along with a will — Mrs. F 
 
 steering as usual. At a council of war it was agreed 
 that we should dine on venison steak and broiled 
 canvas-back — as dishes that would take least time 
 to prepare. 
 
 When Jochen and myself got to the fire he re- 
 marked: "Henry, if you want to take a look at 
 that place, you might slip over there now. You 
 can get back by 5 o'clock, by the time I can get 
 things ready for dinner." 
 
 "You take my gun and jacket across the branch 
 then, Jochen, and I will slip off at the first chance." 
 
 While Mr. and Mrs. F were in their tent, 
 
 attending to their toilets, I improved the opportunity 
 to get away unobserved. I took a straight course 
 and found the ground without much difficulty. It 
 was in the head of a flat, of which the celery lake 
 formed a blind, or wet weather continuation^-or 
 connection with the lake, in times of high water. 
 The first glance, or indeed before I reached the 
 spot, abundant indications revealed the value of the 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 171 
 
 place for the purpose for which it had been chosen 
 by Jochen. Right at the head of the flat, in an 
 oblong space, clear of brush, there was a depression, 
 a saucer filled with rain water, toward which leaned 
 a water oak, bent over so that the head was not 
 more than twenty feet from the ground. The body 
 of the tree, covered with its dense growth of sprouts, 
 as is usual with this species of oak, from within a 
 few feet of the roots up to the head, inclined at an 
 angle so small that the ascent was easy and per- 
 fectly safe, even in a starless night, as the small 
 limbs gave a ready support to the climber. This 
 Jochen had improved by cutting away some of the 
 sprouts, leaving as it were a perfect path. The 
 pulpit, as he termed it, consisted of nothing but a 
 dry chunk placed crosswise on two limbs for a 
 seat — in point of fact, it was all that was needed, 
 or desirable. From this seat to the farther edge of 
 the water it was not over one hundred and fifty feet. 
 But the main shooting ground was between the 
 water and the tree and for some distance on either 
 side of the water. Scattered here and there, through 
 this open glade, were a few persimmon trees. In the 
 whole open space there was not a tree or shrub but 
 what was labeled "trysting place;" each had its buck 
 scratch, in hunter's phrase — even to a pending limb 
 from the very tree top that furnished cover for the 
 gun. "An ideal place," said I to myself, after I 
 had ascended to the seat — only the rascal has left 
 too much sign — tramped the ground over in every 
 direction as if he could not see all there is to be 
 seen, or that is necessary to see from this spot. No, 
 he must go up to every scratch; poke his nose into it, 
 handle the limbs the buck has horned, as if that 
 would improve his chances to handle the buck him- 
 self. One thing, however, he had sense enough, for 
 a wonder, to be careful about. He did not pollute, 
 and thus ruin the place, with the oflfal of the deer 
 he killed. 
 
 With this I left the glen the same way I came, 
 without approaching the deer run closer than was 
 necessary, to satisfy myself that it had been visited 
 by a very large animal since Jochen left there this 
 morning. This late visitor had fairly scratched the 
 dirt over the very blood of one of his comrades, or 
 rivals — apparently without the least concern about 
 the danger that might be lurking in the vicinity. Or 
 perhaps it was the very scent of this blood that 
 aroused his fury to recklessness, as it is well-known 
 that they will seek the life of their rivals when under 
 the influence of the sexual passion. 
 
 I now hastened back to camp and on my way, 
 as soon as I got In hearing distance, picked up what 
 squirrels came in reach — so as to furnish grounds for 
 conclusions as to what caused my absence. 
 
 "You're a nice cook! You went, I suppose, to get 
 
 the meat, like Mr. H.-P gets his fish! Too 
 
 kind-hearted to deprive the poor things of life until 
 the last minute! One makes the fire and the other 
 goes to kill or catch the dinner," exclaimed Mrs. 
 F , as she saw me come in. 
 
 "Of course, the poor things ought to live as long 
 as our needs will let them. You would not expecr 
 
 humane persons, like Mr. H.-P and myself, to 
 
 sacrifice life unnecessarily; and, you see, the killing 
 of a dozen squirrels twelve hours before you want 
 them involves a waste of one hundred and forty-four 
 hours of squirrel life. This would shorten the life 
 of a single squirrel a whole week, and deprive 
 him of the fun of killing whole acres of vegetable 
 life, which he needs for his purposes — ^just to keep 
 his jaws in practice." 
 
 "Dismount man, dismount! You everlasting 
 moon-beam chaser! Not a thought is started, not 
 even a poor sparrow of a thought, but you must 
 give chase through bush and brier, bog and mire. 
 Away you go — nay the very shadow of the sparrow 
 is enough to send you off!" 
 
 "Chirp the whistle, chirp the whistle, and see with 
 what ready obedience the young vagrant will pace at 
 your heels! Come, what is broken to be mended, 
 torn to be sewed up, loose to be tied, or angry to 
 be mollified? Mention it, that I may be adoing. 
 Ah, here it is. You want me to turn that broiler! 
 There is too much fire. Jochen, hand me that long 
 handled shovel. There now! Our hearth is large 
 enough; we need not to singe our brows and spoil 
 our complexions and temper at the same time, by 
 poking our heads into the fire," said I. 
 
 "Did you ever hear such a rattle pate!" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "Seldom or never, unless it was extremely empty. 
 And pern.it me to add, with all candor — the savor 
 of these viands is extremely suggestive of empti- 
 ness in some department of your servant's physio- 
 logical totality. Will you be so kind as to gracious- 
 ly assume your seat at the head of the board — see, 
 how pleasing the suggestion is reflected from every 
 face present!" 
 
 "Don't give yourself so much trouble now, Mr. 
 
 B . When dinner was to be cooked, you 
 
 slipped off to look at the place where Mr. H.-P 
 
 killed the deer this morning and left him to do all 
 the work alone! You could not restrain your 
 curiosity until after dinner." 
 
 "That's it, Mrs. F ; it was pure curiosity. But 
 
 you know how it is. It's a passion hard to control. 
 But, banter aside, you guessed what took me from 
 
 camp, Mrs. F , although I did not go of my 
 
 own motion, nor was it curiosity that induced me 
 to go. The general features of a deer run are so 
 well known to me that I would not waste five steps 
 to look at one. But, as I told you at noon, I had a 
 practical purpose in view; and it is not safe to lose 
 time. We can not always have this weather. It 
 may change any day and the peculiar sport to which 
 this is adapted is at an end — until next year. Now, 
 I remember how I felt when I killed my first deer, 
 and I would like very much for your husband and 
 
 Mr. H to enjoy the same experience. I wanted 
 
 to convince myself of the practicability of the place — 
 for there are a good many things to consider, when 
 
172 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 you hold yourself responsible not merely for the 
 doing of the thing, but also for the safety and con- 
 venience of the parties doing it." 
 
 "Of course, Mr. B , I appreciate your kind- 
 ness, but you must let me have my ovifn way to 
 lessen or render endurable the obligation under 
 which I feel myself to you, not only on my own 
 account, but also on account of my husband and 
 child. You have treated us as if we had a claim 
 upon your skill, time, service and care without limit 
 or reservation; you have made our entertainment 
 your pleasure, and your every thought and exertion 
 has been the safety and well-being of those who are 
 with you for the time being, but who have no claim 
 upon you. I only regret that my stay will be at an 
 end so soon, and that I see ,no way to relieve my- 
 self of my obligations to you; but I hope the future 
 will furnish me the opportunity." 
 
 "Permit me to join in every word you say, Mrs. 
 
 F ; only I would amplify them if I could, for 
 
 I owe him my life and more," said Mr. H . 
 
 "Here we go, Mr. F . I hope you will not 
 
 join, too, in this child's chorus of surprise at the 
 world outside of the hurly-burly and jostle of city 
 life! You know, as a fact, that there is such a 
 world; they know it only by hearsay. They are 
 surprised at its laws of conduct, and regard as 
 meritorious what is simple necessity itself. These 
 laws are prescribed and enforced by the wilderness. 
 Man cannot enter here but to hunger and thirst for 
 his fellow. The presence of that fellow is the great- 
 est boon; services rendered to him are the greatest 
 luxury. They are clasped in the mighty arms of 
 solitude, that dwells In forest and prairie and pressed 
 them into one being. Satiety is unknown. Each is 
 the other's strength in their joint battle with the 
 savagery of bird and beast, marsh, flood and ele- 
 mental nature. This is not exceptional but the rule; 
 not optional, meritorious, but naked necessity. To 
 exist they must join hands. 
 
 "It is man stripped to the bone and the bones 
 scraped clean; man face to face with his fate! Oh, 
 how welcome then the ally! Here is the external 
 origin of community and state, the birth-place of co- 
 operation! Here the chamber, whose walls echoed 
 with the labor pains of humanity, and all nature 
 bellowed and roared the bass, that bore the ether- 
 cleaving notes aloft to the empyrean! Here, at the 
 extreme, at the very lowest, the highest appears, for 
 even the scavenger's find, as we saw to-day, is not 
 for the finder alone. 
 
 " 'Human conduct is true only when mutually ben- 
 eficial to all parties concerned,' I heard your 
 brother say, and I add with due reflection: 'It 
 neither owes nor makes debts.' 
 
 "But let us change the subject, or rather return 
 to ourselves. I examined the place and find it an 
 excellent one, the best perhaps that could be found 
 for miles around. Now, when do you propose to 
 
 start in the morning, Mrs. F — ■ ? Before you 
 
 determine you must take into account that we will 
 
 have a right sharp frost in the latter part of the 
 night." 
 
 "What do you think best, dearest?" she said, ad- 
 dressing Mr. F . "It doesn't make much differ- 
 ence, so that I am at home by 4 or s o'clock. 
 
 "Pat can reach the ferry in five hours without in- 
 juring the teams," said Mr. F . 
 
 "Well, I shall start at half-past nine; but not later." 
 
 "All right," said I, "Mrs. F ; then Jochen 
 
 and you, Mr. F , can go early in the morning 
 
 and get the mate to that buck which we spent all 
 day in bringing home. He has a mate that visits the 
 same place. From his tracks I should judge he may 
 be a size larger; his foot is fully as large, and it 
 sinks deeper into the ground. Mr H and my- 
 self will bring the boat down to the mouth of the 
 dry slough, and I think we four will be able to 
 manage to get him to it. We will be back here by 
 eight, or a quarter past. But how is the steak? You 
 all eat as if there was nothing else in the woods." 
 
 "Yes, and I don't think we care much whether 
 there is. At least I don't. You said yesterday that I 
 had never eaten venison and I know now that I never 
 did until now," answered Mr. F . 
 
 "Those are my sentiments," said Mr. H . 
 
 "It is excellent, and do you think that big fellow 
 that we brought in to-day is as good as this?" asked 
 Mrs. F . 
 
 "A shade better, in the course of ten days or two 
 weeks. The other, the one we had in the wagon 
 this morning, is better now. But what about the one 
 that is out yet in the woods — are you going after him 
 in the morning, or must I?" 
 
 "How would it be if you took Mr. H ? I 
 
 have had more shooting than he, and it looks a 
 little selfish for me to have all the fun," said Mr. 
 F . 
 
 "I don't think it's safe for him to go yet. The 
 excitement might have serious consequences," said I. 
 
 "I feel Mr. B is right, Mr. F . I am 
 
 very weak and would not dare to leave the ground. 
 The exposure and worry has affected the very mar- 
 row in my bones. You go and kill the deer. I will 
 enjoy the fun of helping to bring it home as much 
 as if I had killed it myself." 
 
 "But what do you say, wifey dear?" 
 
 "You go and kill the deer; if it is not too cold 
 for you." 
 
 "I will provide against that," said I. "But both 
 
 of you, I mean Jochen and you, Mr. F , must 
 
 promise me not to kill anything that doesn't have 
 horns — you hear, Jochen! The man that kills a doe 
 or fawn leaves camp!" 
 
 "All right; we will remember." 
 
 "Yes, we will make a note of it," said Mr. F . 
 
 The party finished their dinner on steak alone — 
 not a duck or slice of turkey was touched; and 
 the squirrel ragout, even a standard favorite, was 
 neglected. After they had drunk their coffee we 
 adjourned to the front of the fire. 
 
 "From your talk a little while ago, Mr. B , 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 173 
 
 I suppose you don't think very much of gratitude. 
 I expect you are of the opinion of the Frenchman, 
 who defines it as a hvely appreciation of favors to 
 come," said Mr. H , after we were seated. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "by the pugs and spaniels of 
 society. The man who deals in favors is an ass, 
 and the men who receive them are varlets. A true 
 man asks none and receives none. The paltry as- 
 sistance it is in the power of one human being to 
 render another is a wonderful thing to be talked 
 about! It was recognized as far back as eighteen 
 hundred years ago that such assistance was too in- 
 significant if rendered by one hand to be com- 
 municated to the other! But it is the sickness of the 
 day to prate of such things. True manhood does 
 not consist in running about from house to house 
 to attend to other people's business, but so to con- 
 duct its own that it may be a help to all, which it 
 inevitably will be if it is founded on justice and 
 managed with honesty. For it to be founded on 
 justice, all that is necessary is that it be a legitimate 
 part, perform a publicly recognized function of the 
 organic whole, of civil society. This conducted with 
 diligence and honesty is beneficial to all, to the whole 
 of that society and to every member of it, as con- 
 versely the whole is beneficial to him. This mu- 
 tuality returns to each his own, and none is giver, 
 none receiver — all are freemen, because all are self- 
 dependent. Your professional philanthropist, but 
 especially your 'public benefactor,' so-called, who 
 robs and steals at night, and gives alms in the day 
 time, that is, who accurnulates by dark methods and 
 parades his ill-gotten pelf in the form of public 
 benefaction, they are not the health-givers, health 
 promoters of the body politic, but its excresences, 
 wards, ticks, lice — parasites in general. Be pleased to 
 imagine a nation composed exclusively of such! 
 Would it not prove a power on the earth! Yes, a 
 nation like the dangling vines ; the parasites that hang 
 around us from those trees would form a forest! 
 You observe they add density to its shade, but noth- 
 ing to its power to battle with the elements!" 
 
 "But, where are you going, Henry," asked Mr. 
 
 F . "From the sentiment of gratitude you have 
 
 slipped down to parasites. What in the world have 
 they to do with gratitude?" 
 
 "I think they ought to have a great deal to do 
 with it, although nobody looks for it from them. 
 But surely it is monstrous for society to be asked 
 to be grateful to its parasites, and yet that is pre- 
 cisely what the attempt to understand or base human 
 afifairs upon the flimsy sentamentality of the emo- 
 tions — of gratitude, of love of your fellow men and 
 the like — has eventuated in. Yes, by the conscious- 
 ness of the day, I am asked to fondle, to thank the 
 tick that I pulled to-day from my arm, and whose 
 vicious snout, not satisfied to take my blood for his 
 sustenance, poisoned the wound whence he drew it — ■ 
 yes, I am to be grateful to him for sending me this 
 moment out of the presence of a lady, that I may 
 relieve myself from the effects of his kindness. You 
 
 must excuse me, for I am not speaking figuratively." 
 
 Mrs. F clapped her hands and the rest 
 
 laughed without moderation — tickled I suppose to 
 get rid of me by means of the illustration used, 
 which called my attention to the injury on mj' arm. 
 After I had bathed the wound and quieted the irri- 
 tation, I returned to the fire. 
 
 "Well, Henry, have you scratched that tick bite 
 
 on your arm good?" asked Mr. F , after I had 
 
 resumed my seat. 
 
 "No, that wouldn't better it any. Scratching only 
 spreads the poison through a larger amount of the 
 tissue. I applied a sedative, ammonia, common 
 heartshorn. It is no antidote, still it withdraws the 
 attention from the injury, and that is something. I 
 don't think it is any more effective, however, than 
 the ordinary remedies applied by society to the in- 
 juries which it receives from its parasites — its public 
 benefactors, its philanthropists by profession, its 
 holy fathers without children, et omnes genei — its 
 blood suckers. Of course, I do not mean the extra- 
 ordinary remedies, such as the currying which France 
 administered to itself at the beginning of this cen- 
 tury, but the ordinary alleviatives administered by a 
 Dean Swift, a Rabelais, a Juvenal, an Aristopha- 
 nes. I don't attribute any further value to them than 
 temporary alleviatives, momentary diverters of at- 
 tention. The remedy devised by destiny is the curry 
 comb — as we see it used in our frontier homesteads, 
 to protect the poor work animals and milch cows of 
 the settlers. In the hands of destiny, however, this 
 implement has the inconvenience of now and then 
 removing not merely the excrescences, parasites, etc., 
 mentioned, but also large patches of skin, so that the 
 body politic after the application looks as if it had 
 been flayed alive. Still, I suppose it is regarded 
 as a cheap riddance even at that price." 
 
 "But, do you know of any remedy?" asked Mrs. 
 F . 
 
 "None, except what I have stated — the apprecia- 
 tion of and the insight into true manhood — the 
 recognition of the divine in man and how this is 
 realized in the institutions of his nation — the clear, 
 definite knowledge of every feature and function of 
 that life, and the rational existence which it em- 
 bodies for each and every human being born under 
 its blessed prerogatives. This knowledge and this 
 alone I regard as of value in this connection. Out- 
 side of it I find nothing mentioned in the chronicles 
 of our race except — that curry comb! 
 
 "Attic salt is worthless to preserve swines' ears! 
 See Aristophanes and the subsequent events in the 
 history of Greece! It is related that a bishop, 
 after perusing 'Gulliver's Travels' and the 'Tale of 
 a Tub,' remarked: 'It would be hard for me to 
 believe these books to be true records of real events, 
 if they were not written by a dean of the church.' 
 There is a story afloat in the old folklore of the 
 northern nations of Europe, pointing in the same 
 direction. It relates that a certain maker of swords, 
 under some provocation or other, the details of which 
 
174 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 have escaped me, made a weapon with which he 
 clove his opponent into two halves, although the 
 poor man was clad in armour of proof. After he 
 had delivered the stroke his victim still stood up- 
 right before him, as if nothing had occurred, until 
 he was told to shake himself. When he did this the 
 two halves naturally fell apart. But, you see, no- 
 body asked the good bishop to shake himself, and 
 there is no record that the stroke caused the slightest 
 inconvenience — so tenacious of life is this species of 
 organized existence! What good did it do France 
 to be the mother of Rabelais — the curry comb was 
 the only remedy." 
 
 "But, laying figures of speech aside, do you know 
 of any remedy against the prosaic, the body tick of 
 our woods?" asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Yes, tobacco smoke is a radical poison to the 
 insect. In my forest experience I have applied this 
 by using two suits of clothes. As I returned from 
 the woods I would exchange the garments I had on 
 for a suit that had hung during my absence in a 
 closet, built for the purpose, over a shovel full of 
 live coals, over which I scattered from time to time 
 a handful of tobacco stems — or the parts of the plant 
 that are rejected as refuse by the producer. This 
 narcotic proved effective to protect me from this 
 nuisance — and permit me to add, I have the same 
 faith in the remedy which I have suggested for 
 society against the metaphorical blood suckers of 
 every kind and description, with which it finds itself 
 beset. 
 
 "But come — enough of this; to business! To- 
 morrow morning you, Mr. F , and Mr. H.- 
 
 P go and kill a deer — that is, a deer with horns 
 
 on. After you have killed the deer — with horns 
 
 mark you — you will find Mr. H and myself 
 
 at the mouth of the dry slough to help you bring it 
 home. But the deer must be killed on the spot — no 
 hunting about for wounded animals at that time of 
 day. If you prefer I will load the guns for you; and 
 there must be no shooting for the heart and lungs. 
 If the big fellow comes, as he is sure to do, if you 
 follow directions, the butt of the ear is an excellent 
 place to hold for — not the tip, but the butt of the ear, 
 where that organ joins the head. His trysting place 
 is the big scratch under the persimmon tree, to the 
 right of the pond, as you look south from your stand 
 or seat. As he approaches the scratching place he 
 will stop in the clear within a few feet of it and 
 investigate the surroundings — that is, if he is alone. 
 Just then is the time to drop him. You can reach 
 his ear, and you will have no further trouble, but 
 mark you, Jochen, you must not approach your tree 
 by going through the open glade. You pollute the 
 ground that way with your tracks and alarm the 
 game by the scent. Approach your tree from the 
 north and you will see fun — but don't shoot the small 
 deer that you are likely to see, if you leave the 
 glade undisturbed. Now, get your guns and let us 
 put them in order. Then I will load them for you in 
 the morning with picked shot — not the stuff you 
 
 have in the bag, or that is loose in my jacket, but 
 something that will kill after you have taken all the 
 preliminary trouble. 
 
 "Let me see — they are both empty? Yes. All 
 
 right, I can talk and work, too. Now, Mr. F , 
 
 when is Pat going to come back from the city?" 
 
 "Day after to-morrow." 
 
 "And Nick with the colts will be here the same 
 day?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Then the day after we will make our trip to the 
 landing and see as much of the bluff as we can. Nick 
 
 can keep camp; Pat will drive you, Mr. F , and 
 
 Mr. H , Jochen and myself will manage to keep 
 
 in sight of you — " 
 
 "If the colts don't give out," put in Jochen. 
 
 "Well, they must drive a little slower on our ac- 
 count, Jochen, but if they can't bring down their 
 team to our gait, it is all the same; we will over- 
 take them at Mr. Pheyety's." 
 
 "That is so; I hadn't thought of that," he said, with 
 a very straight face. 
 
 I gave Mr. F 's gun a thorough cleaning, and 
 
 Jochen surprised the "grussel greite," as he has re- 
 baptised his gun since the morning's shooting of 
 ducks and geese, near his house, with a similar opera- 
 tion. I then examined my ammunition and found 
 that I had only ten wads left — that is, wads that I use 
 when deer hunting. 
 
 "What do you call them, Henry? You don't use 
 them in your gun," said Mr. F . 
 
 "I call them wads and they are cut out of the 
 soles of old shoes, picked up wherever found, with a 
 punch of the necessary size to make them fit my 
 gun accurately. I use number double o rollers as shot 
 when I go for big deer. Of these my gun, an eleven 
 gauge, chambers three. I want the power of the 
 powder applied accurately to the shot at a point 
 from which, if you draw a straight line from the 
 center of the pellet and prolong it to the muzzle of 
 the gun, that line will be parallel with the inner 
 side of the barrel — in other words, accurately from 
 behind. Now, in order to do this, the shot must rest 
 upon as perfect a plane at right angles with the barrel 
 as it is possible to obtain. And that, too, a plane 
 that will not be warped out of shape by the power 
 when applied, and yet not absolutely unyielding, or it 
 will destroy the spherical shape of the shot. These 
 conditions I find best answered by this material. 
 
 "Now, the loading I manage in this way. I charge 
 my gun, thoroughly dry inside, with the powder, the 
 strength of which I have previously tested. I then 
 send home one of these wads, and use the rod until 
 it is firm, which you ascertain from the sound of the 
 stroke. I now shoe my rod with this false button." 
 
 "What is that for," asked Mr. F . 
 
 "To grease my gun. You observe, the edge of the 
 button has a coat of deer tallow. By applying this 
 after the powder is in place, and protected by the 
 wad, I do not deaden it by the moisture of the 
 grease; and at the same time I obtain the object 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 175 
 
 for which all lubricators are used — diminution of 
 friction and protection of the implement against 
 rust. I now select three perfectly spherical pellets 
 of shot, as perfect as I can find, and roll them into 
 the barrel. I then take my rod and feel them into 
 place, so that they rest smoothly upon the wad. I 
 then place the next three pellets in the same way, 
 and so the next; then keep them in position with a 
 light felt wad, the edges of which have a suspicion 
 of grease, sufficient not to rub the gun of its proper 
 amount. I then examine the priming and if I find 
 it all right I put on the cap — and the gun is ready 
 for use. It will do me service — all the service there 
 is in it." 
 
 "Of course it will," said Mr. F . "You have 
 
 reduced the chances of the shot being rolled out of 
 the gun by the powder, set to spinning and thus 
 scattered as soon as they leave the barrel, to a 
 minimum. But how did you hit upon it? I think 
 the way you grease the gun is a great thing. I have 
 always thought that our gun is a very imperfect tool. 
 If I had the time I should like to overhaul it with 
 you some of these days." 
 
 "I think as you do, Mr. F . I believe the 
 
 thing will be overhauled soon. It is a piece of 
 patchwork as it is. After they had fired it for some 
 time with an end of burning twine, or a rag, they 
 patched up a flint and steel. Then when they found 
 that friction will produce fire, or that force is the 
 Proteus of physical nature, they patched up the 
 present arrangement. I believe the thing ought to 
 be overhauled from the root up. The way I hit 
 upon my mode of loading is the same as with every 
 other implement. I first endeavor to see clearly in 
 every detail, and from every side, the purpose to 
 be accomplished. This done, I find it an easy 
 matter to determine or recognize the means and the 
 mode of their application. Of course, as both pur- 
 pose and means are but relative, there are or may 
 be a variety of means, and in addition to that a 
 variety of ways in which they can be used to ac- 
 complish the purpose. This is the reason that every 
 implement is liable to be found defective, with our 
 constantly increasing knowledge of the means at 
 our disposal for the accomplishment of our ends. 
 Nor are, in view of this fact, the ends themselves 
 constant. It is true, the final or general purpose 
 of all implements to reduce man's dependence on 
 nature to a minimum remains the same. Still the 
 subordinate purposes that furnish the means for the 
 accomplishment of this general end, vary from day to 
 day. They are both means and ends in one and this 
 causes them to be in the constant state of fluctuation. 
 Our neighbor, the farmer, who raises hemp, uses his 
 field, teams and implements as means to accomplish 
 this purpose. But the ship owner uses this purpose, 
 the hemp, transformed into ropes and sails, as means 
 for his purposes, to carry the commerce of the seas. 
 But, the other day a man looked into the purpose 
 of the ship owner. With his more accurate knowl- 
 edge of the forces of nature he substituted steam for 
 
 the means employed by the ship owner heretofore. 
 These means cease to be exclusive ones, and the in- 
 dustry of our neighbor, the farmer, for which they 
 were the end, will have to be applied in a different 
 direction. 
 
 "The more accurate and exhaustive our knowl- 
 edge of the purposes to be accomplished, of the end 
 in view, and the broader our knowledge of the means 
 at our disposal, the more perfect will be the selec- 
 tion of these means and their mode of application. 
 The spirit, the tendency of the day, is correct, there- 
 fore, to regard no implement as a finality. Every 
 insight that penetrates deeper into the laws of the 
 universe, and our relation to it, affects the readjust- 
 ment more or less radically of the entire mass of 
 our achievements, not merely in their economic 
 significance, but also in their mechanical relation. 
 'One thing helps the other,' as the popular saying 
 has it." 
 
 With this Mr. H excused himself and retired. 
 
 Mrs. F , after wishing Mr. H pleasant 
 
 dreams, remarked: "Now, Mr. Oracle, Captain 
 General, or whatever title you would like to be ad- 
 dressed by, you have laid out all your work for to- 
 morrow, just as if I were already gone. What do 
 you propose to do with me, or what am I to do with 
 myself, while you are all out enjoying the woods 
 in the morning?" 
 
 "You stay in camp and help Pat kill possums. He 
 finds a great deal of trouble to protect our game 
 from them, and I think you might lend him a hand! 
 How many did you kill this afternoon, Pat?" 
 
 "Four of them, your honor! The whole woods 
 are alive with them, they are!" 
 
 "What did you do with them — where are they?" 
 asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Out there on the stump — the last of them!" 
 
 "Where are the others?" 
 
 "Gone, your honor, some thieving varmin dragged 
 them off as fast as I killed them! I put them on 
 that stump and when I caught another at the turkeys 
 and knocked it on the head, the first I killed was 
 gone, and so the whole day. The woods are full 
 of thieving creatures entirely." 
 
 "You are sure the last one you killed is there on 
 the stump?" 
 
 "Sure, your honor, for I never put him there at 
 all. I hung him up on a limb by the curl in his 
 tail — a hook like, at the end of his tail — where the 
 thieves can not get at him," 
 
 "That is right, Pat. Go and let us see him. Is 
 it a big one?" 
 
 "As large as any — they were all of a size!" 
 
 Directly, we heard him mutter to himself, then 
 halloo: "Sure, your honor, the thieves have got 
 him, too!" 
 
 "Look around there a little! Perhaps you will find 
 another!" said I. 
 
 "So there is! Take that, you thief! And how do 
 you like that! It fetched you!" And he brought 
 
176 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 in his dead possum, with its mouth wide open and 
 eyes turned in its head — dead, of course. 
 
 "But mind, they have no life at all! I just kicked 
 the varmin over and he is dead, your honor!" 
 
 "Yes, Pat. When I was a boy I killed one three 
 times in one evening, and next morning I caught 
 him robbing the hen roost. They are very easily 
 killed, but it takes a good many killings to keep them 
 dead," remarked Mr. F . 
 
 "But isn't that thing dead," inquired Mrs. F . 
 
 "No more now than he has been after any of the 
 killings he got this afternoon." 
 
 "Let me get Theodore — he will be delighted." 
 
 "No, no, Mrs. F . The child is asleep. He is 
 
 very tired and you must not disturb him. We will 
 keep the possum until morning and Theodore can 
 have all the fun with him there is to be had. He 
 will keep up his practice of feigning death to escape 
 it for a week or so, until he finds that he is not in 
 any danger." 
 
 We then made the rounds of our game — that is, 
 Jochen and myself, and concluded to build a couple 
 of fires for the benefit of our serenaders — as poor 
 Sip was in no condition to give us much protection. 
 Poor fellow, he went with us and satisfied himself 
 that everything was safe. When we got through I 
 applied a fresh coat of linament to his lacerated 
 face. 
 
 "Yes," said Jochen, "ain't you a beauty now? I 
 •wish Yetta could see you now. Wouldn't it tickle 
 her to tell you that it served you right for always 
 chasing her pussy!" 
 
 "Who is Yetta?" asked Mrs. F . I told her 
 
 that she was the little golden-haired daughter of Mr. 
 H.-P , who attended to his farm, with the assist- 
 ance of her mother, during Jochen's absence. 
 
 "You must bring her with you some day, Mr. H.- 
 P . I should like to see her!" 
 
 While Jochen stammered out something by way of 
 
 assent, I said: "But, Mrs. F , you must go out 
 
 to see Mr. H.-P 's farm. I think it would 
 
 please you." 
 
 "I will if you show us the way. But tell me, Mr. 
 
 B , do you think this animal really pretends to 
 
 be dead on purpose?" referring to the possum which 
 was still lying motionless by the side of the log, 
 where Pat had thrown him. 
 
 "Of course he does, and he is not the only inhabi- 
 tant of the woods that practices dissimilation for 
 the accomplishment of his purposes. Birds and 
 beasts do it alike, to a greater or less extent. But, 
 
 Mrs. F , you are not going to start me on a 
 
 new chippy chase to-night? It is time for us to go 
 to bed. Daylight comes early in this locality, or 
 if it doesn't, hunters are in the habit of going after it." 
 
 She assented with a rippling laugh and taking her 
 husband's arm retired to her tent. 
 
 As soon as we had put a hickory chunk on the 
 coals and covered it up for morning, we followed 
 3uit— that is, Jochen turned in, and I sat down to 
 
 sketch in my note book, until my eyes refused to 
 serve me any longer. 
 
 October 17, 1856. 
 
 At 4 o'clock this morning Jochen called me, and 
 while he made a cup of coffee I loaded the guns. A 
 
 quarter of an hour later I called Mr. F , and, 
 
 to my surprise, found him already dressed. We took 
 a cup of coffee. 
 
 "It doesn't hurt me a particle, Henry; I have tried 
 it for the last two days. I can eat and drink any- 
 thing in moderation," said Mr. F . 
 
 "That is as it should be," said I, "and a man who 
 does otherwise is lower than a brute." 
 
 By half-past four they were off. 
 
 "Remember," I called after them, "it is the dark of 
 the moon. Deer will be up late this morning, 
 especially the buck, and you need not to hurry away 
 from the glen. If you kill anything, let it lie where 
 it drops; load your guns and sit still. At 7 o'clock 
 you will find us at the mouth of the dry slough, if 
 you need our assistance." 
 
 I now returned to the tent and asked, in a 
 moderate tone of voice — "Are you awake, Will?" 
 
 "Yes," was the answer. "I have not slept much 
 during the night. I feel restless." 
 
 I felt his forehead, and although he had no fever, 
 the skin was dry. 
 
 "I think," said I, "you better take some quinine 
 and a drink of brandy, if you can't go with me. 
 You ought to have told me last night that you did 
 not feel right. You know, when I get to talking, I 
 forget everything else — even the place I am in. 
 Here" — and I handed him the medicine. "Now let 
 me fix your bed. You have rolled and twisted every- 
 thing out of shape. You will have a good sleep now, 
 and don't go out until I come back." 
 
 I then took my gun and jacket, picked up the mul- 
 berry carrying stick, and went down to the boat. It 
 is a little heavy for one pair of oars, but as I had 
 no load, and the crisp air encouraged exertion, I sent 
 her down the lake at a good rate of speed. When I 
 reached the mouth of the slough there was not the 
 slightest suspicion of red as yet visible in the eastern 
 sky. Here I exchanged the oars for the paddle, and 
 hugged the western shore of the slough, which trends 
 southwest, and consists of the pecan flat, patronized 
 by us yesterday. I noticed while picking out a tree 
 at that time that the flat was the feeding ground 
 for deer. Under every tree that had nuts the grass 
 had been nosed into round funnel-shaped holes, 
 where the deer had picked up their favorite food. As 
 I had to pass the flat in going up to the mouth of 
 the dry slough, I thought I might as well learn what 
 was going on, and although the deer is not a noise- 
 making animal in the woods — indeed I know of no 
 inhabitant that is less so — still, to the hunter's ear, 
 that recognizes every sound, even the deer betrays 
 its presence by its movements. When turning fairly 
 into the slough the great horned owl announced the 
 approach of day, with his rythmic — "Who-who-who^ 
 Who-who-who — Who!" For some time this was 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 177 
 
 the only sound audible, until I reached a point per- 
 haps a quarter of a mile from the lake, when I 
 heard the sharp stroke of bucks' horns, as they came 
 together in a fight. I rested the paddle and listened. 
 It was a fight. As I had never witnessed such a 
 contest, although frequently found the signs left on 
 the ground, when it was over, I commenced to 
 examine the bank for some point of vantage from 
 which I might see the trial of strength. But noth- 
 ing presented itself in the way of practical blind 
 Or cover. I went up, then down, with the same 
 result. While occupied with this I noticed that I 
 could distinguish the eastern sky — daylight was an- 
 nouncing itself. The noise of the fight seemed to 
 move up toward the head of the slough. I slipped 
 along in the same direction. A few moments of 
 silence, then the sharp rattle of the horns, some fifty 
 or less yards up toward the mouth of the dry slough! 
 I was in full sight of this place when the sounds 
 receded from the shore, and finally died away, or 
 entered the cane beyond the flat. 
 
 I was still listening when something attracted my 
 attention to the landing place, where we stopped 
 when in search of Mr. H— . There was a move- 
 ment on the bank, which is six or eight feet high, and 
 directly the beautiful head and face of a doe became 
 visible, as she stood for a moment looking straight 
 at me, not more than twenty-five yards away. For 
 a moment or so she surveyed the water, then with- 
 out apparently identifying me, she tripped away a 
 few steps, out of sight, but reappeared as she crossed 
 the dry slough, continued in sight around the point 
 of the water, and then vanished in the cane beyond. 
 Her coy, coquettish motion, the modest manner of 
 carrying the flag, close down, told her story, and 
 the hunter understood the situation. With a stroke 
 or two of the paddle I brought the boat into a posi- 
 tion from which the bank at the mouth of the 
 slough was under my gun, and was composing my- 
 self to await events, when I heard the report of Mr. 
 
 F 's gtin from Jochen's glen. I recognized it to 
 
 be his from the clear, rifle-like sound, that is com- 
 mon to guns of superior make, and that are kept in 
 good order; while "grussel greite" had the ragged 
 gutteral sound, implied in the name, and that re- 
 sults from inferior construction and bad treatment. 
 The sound had scarcely died away when I heard the 
 approach of a deer, in full lope, on the track of the 
 doe. An instant after, he stood on the bank in- 
 vestigating the crossing, a spike buck — only for a 
 moment, however; the next he had disappeared, and 
 went on in a great hurry. I regretted afterward 
 that I did not stop him if for no other reason than 
 
 to notify Mr. F that I had a gun, too. The 
 
 opportunity, however, came, as I had reason to ex- 
 pect, but not until there was another report from the 
 glen. This, however, came when my attention was 
 occupied by the approach of another deer, and that, 
 too, one, judging from the sound, which required care 
 on my part, and so I did not distinguish whether it 
 ■was Jochen or Mr. F who fired the second 
 
 shot. As the horns of the new comer became 
 visible over the bank, my gun was on my face, and 
 the next step, the step that brought his majestic 
 head into full view, was his last. In falling he 
 pushed himself off the bank into the mouth of the 
 dry slough, and there was nothing left for me to do, 
 but to recharge my gun. This I did with becoming 
 composure and noiselessness; and neither man nor 
 beast, a hundred yards away, could have told of 
 the presence of anything but the dying buck, who 
 kept striking now and then with his feet, to my 
 great annoyance. I breathed into the crisp morning 
 air and saw that whatever movement there was 
 streamed from north to south. This was nearly at 
 right angles to the run, and I had nothing to fear 
 from that source in my position. I knelt down 
 again and leaned forward against the seat, with my 
 chin resting on my arm, which enabled me to see 
 over the gunnel of the boat. I had rested perhaps 
 five or ten minutes in this position, when I saw a 
 motion in the bed of the dry run, beyond the dead 
 deer. I watched and soon recognized a black wolf 
 coming down straight for my buck. I felt annoyed 
 at the impudence of the cur, but he kept on, ex- 
 amined the situation with his nose, came past the 
 deer to assure himself; but as he did so I sent the 
 entire charge into his head. He never knew what 
 hurt him — never yelped — a great nuisance that they 
 are liable to commit when shot and not instantly 
 killed. 
 
 After recharging my gun I resumed the former 
 position. Upon consulting my watch, some time 
 afterward, I found it was half-past six, much later 
 than I supposed; and just as I was restoring the 
 watch in my pocket I heard another report from 
 
 Mr. F 's gun. That is three, said I to myself — 
 
 not so bad for greenhorns; but who couldn't kill 
 deer at such a place — or at this one either for that 
 matter, I added, as I heard the measured jump of 
 one coming down the trail. As his head arose over 
 the bank I sent him to his neighbor — but not quite. 
 In falling his hind legs caught between a root and 
 the bank and he hanged head down, almost ready 
 for the knife. 
 
 I now waited for my cue from the glen, but every- 
 thing remained silent, until I heard the slouching 
 step of Jochen coming down the slough. 
 
 "What have you been shooting at, Henry?" he 
 called, when he got into hearing distance, 
 
 "Dogs and things, Jochen. What have you been 
 doing at the glen?" 
 
 "We have got three and Mr. F has the big 
 
 one. He is a deal larger than the one we got yester- 
 day." 
 
 "Oh," said I, "that was no great shakes of a deer! 
 I think I have one here that can beat him." 
 
 "You have?" 
 
 "Yes, step down there and look at him." 
 
 "Narren tant, sonny! That beats anything except 
 
 the first one Mr. F killed this morning. And 
 
 only four points; but look at the beams!" 
 
178 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of the one behind you 
 there that hanged himself?" 
 
 "Sonny, sonny! You're a bad man! What did 
 you send us up there for when you could kill all the 
 deer you wanted here?" 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you, Jochen. I didn't know that I 
 could. You see, I only waited here for you to come. 
 I could have killed more, if I had thought of it! — 
 but joking aside, Jochen, I saw when we were 
 gathering the pecans yesterday that the flat over 
 there is feeding ground; and you know how that 
 brings animals together. So I thought this morning 
 I would see what there might be over there, and I 
 happened to see a doe run across the mouth of the 
 dry slough. Of course, all I had to do after that 
 was to wait for her company." 
 
 "That's it, that's it, sonny! We saw four or five 
 once, two together, fool around the glen, but we 
 did not disturb them. That is the way. I never 
 knew we could kill them with shot-guns. But you 
 ought to see how 'grussel greite' tore the one's 
 head nearly off, that I shot this morning! It is the 
 load, sonny, it is the load that makes the difference!" 
 
 "But we must go, Jochen. Just bring our stick 
 from the boat; I brought it along thinking that we 
 might need it." 
 
 "What is that, Henry?" 
 
 "A black wolf, one of the meanest kind. He came 
 to smell that buck." 
 
 "And you wiped his nose for him!" 
 
 "Yes, it looks like it — with something worse than 
 the buzz-saw poor Sip smelled yesterday." 
 
 When we reached the glen we found Mr. F 
 
 still in the pulpit. 
 
 "I am sorry you came as soon as you did; if you 
 had staid away a few moments longer I would have 
 had another shot. He stopped in the edge of the 
 glen, on that side, but he heard you coming — I 
 could hear you myself — and took the back track." 
 
 "That will happen, Mr. F ; but come down; 
 
 we must be at work. You have got your buck?" 
 
 "Of course, of course," he said. "Ha, but I am 
 stiff! I didn't know it was so cold! What do you 
 think of him?" 
 
 "The boss of the outfit, as far as I can judge by the 
 sign that I have seen around, since we have been 
 here. But the deer are coming in. There is a 
 splendid pecan mast around the lake and that 
 brings them together." 
 
 "There are no pecans with us this year," said 
 Jochen. 
 
 "I should have judged so from what I have seen 
 here — but come, give us a hand. Take the hatchet 
 and cut a hand-spike. We can't open him here and 
 we can't shoulder him without." 
 
 I tied the deer short and then ran the carrying 
 stick through his legs, put the hand-spike under the 
 
 short end of the carrier, and asked Mr. F to 
 
 take hold of the long end. In this shape we suc- 
 ceeded in halt dragging, half carrying him a couple 
 of hundred yards down the dry slough. Here I 
 
 opened him while Mr. F- 
 
 - and Jochen brought 
 the smallest one. We then went for the last. With 
 all the haste we could make, however, we did not 
 get away from the dry slough until half-past eight 
 o'clock. Of course, it was past nine when we 
 reached the landing, in camp, where we found Mrs. 
 
 F very impatient, on account of our long 
 
 absence. 
 
 "What in the world kept you so long, dearest?" she 
 greeted Mr. F . 
 
 "Well, wifey, I don't know; I never knew until 
 this morning that there is such a difference in the 
 length of hours." 
 
 "Come down and see," said I. "There are some 
 fellows in the boat here that did not want to let us 
 go unless we took them with us, and the debate 
 about that made us a little late. Come, see!" 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed^"Mr. F , did you kill 
 
 any of them yourself? Who killed that one? Oh, 
 he is larger than the one we brought home yester- 
 day!" 
 
 "Yes, and so is that one there, and here are two 
 more that will weigh within twenty pounds of them," 
 
 said Mr. F . "This is the one Mr. B 
 
 talked about last night and sent me out to kill this 
 morning!" 
 
 "And you killed him?" 
 
 "What else could I do? You know how he is, and 
 rather than have a fuss in camp, while you are here, 
 I had to do as he wanted me to." 
 
 "But how many have you got?" she asked. 
 
 "I killed two, Mr. H.-P killed one, and when 
 
 we got to the boat Mr. B had two of the 
 
 largest in the lot, and that wolf. He wanted to 
 show you one of the serenaders," answered Mr. 
 F . 
 
 "How wet you are with perspiration, dearest! Go 
 in the tent and change your clothes." 
 
 "Excuse me, Mrs. F- ," said I, "but he must 
 
 not do that. Give us a mouthful of breakfast, if 
 you have it handy, and let Pat set the table a step 
 or two closer to the fire. You see, the tent is all 
 right to sleep in, but not a desirable place to change 
 one's clothes in when a person is perspiring." 
 
 "No doubt you are right, Mr. B ; I did not 
 
 think about that — I am obliged to you," 
 
 We now washed, and they sat down to breakfast, 
 
 where I joined them after looking at Mr. H , 
 
 whom I found still in bed. 
 
 "I feel better, Henry. I think I will get up. What 
 do you think about it?" 
 
 "By all means — never stay in bed in the day time 
 if you can help it, and never be out of bed at night, 
 unless unavoidable business compels you. That is 
 a good rule — come and eat breakfast, the folks are 
 just sitting down." 
 
 "We are waiting for you, Mr. B ," said Mrs. 
 
 F . "Why don't you come and eat one meal, 
 
 at least, out here in your burrow, that is prepared by 
 a person who knows what a meal is?" 
 
 "Oh, yes; and what have we been doing since 4 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 179 
 
 o'clock this morning?" I answered. "Haven't we 
 been preparing the most important part of the meal 
 ourselves— the stomachs to receive it? But, banter- 
 ing aside, I tell you, Mrs. F , if you will stay 
 
 with us and just do the cooking, I will chip in my 
 part to pay you two dollars a week — provided you 
 don't let up on us, but do as well as you have done 
 this morning." 
 
 "Just listen to him!" 
 
 "I tell you, I mean it; and I will give you your 
 own husband for security — the only person I have to 
 go to, unless it be Jochen here, when I need money 
 to pay my debts." 
 
 "I will get even with you for this when I get home 
 and see your sweetheart. I will tell her what value 
 you set upon a woman's work!" 
 
 "Yes, but cooking is not woman's work, any more 
 than deer meat is venison! And then cooking and 
 cooking differ. 1 speak of the specific cooking, of 
 which this is a sample, and for that kind I offered 
 to pay the extravagant price of two dollars a week. 
 You will observe, this is a specific, not a general 
 proposition. It is specific as well as regards the 
 performance as the performer. It is not a general 
 proposition, open to everybody; and you have no 
 authority to peddle it about." 
 
 "Well, I won't then — so let us quit friends." 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course, after you have tried to coax 
 away my boarders." 
 
 "Why, who said anything about that?" 
 
 "You! Didn't you mean to imply that our estab- 
 lishment here was a poor affair by calling it a bur- 
 row, and yet I venture to say you never saw a 
 kitchen as extensive as ours in your life!" 
 
 "No, that is true. It is as big as all out of doors!" 
 
 "Yes, and therefore has all the resources that the 
 all out of doors contains; and yet you are not satis- 
 fied. You don't only run off yourself, but you try to 
 make my best boarder discontented." 
 
 "Yes, and I propose to get him, too — good morn- 
 ing, Mr. H , I understand you have not been 
 
 very well. How do you feel this morning?" 
 
 "Very much better, I thank you. I had about four 
 hours sleep, and that has helped me." 
 
 "Come, sit down; I know you will appreciate a 
 good breakfast — a meal prepared with skill and 
 care! These fellows eat, or rather swallow their 
 food, like bottomless sacks; and if a person takes 
 some pride in having prepared a palatable meal, they 
 will argue vintil they prove white black that it is 
 their appetites, their stomachs, which deserve credit 
 and not the cook." 
 
 "Now, that is talking to some purpose. Their is 
 game up that tree. A stomach that is asleep yet, 
 like Mr. H 's, needs waking up! It can ap- 
 preciate the cook, for it needs cooking. The trouble 
 is, it is liable to get done too quick — overdone before 
 dinner, before half the day of life is passed." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. F , after eating for some 
 
 time in silence, "and I propose to see to it that mine 
 shall never again be disturbed when it wants rest. I 
 
 wouldn't give one of Jochen's potatoes, roasted in 
 the ashes, with an appetite, for all the products of 
 the art of cookery, when my stomach does not call 
 for food— by the by, dearest, have you noticed our 
 potatoes here?" 
 
 "Yes, and the ham, too. Where did you get 
 them?" 
 
 "Mr. Hanse-Peter brought them from his farm." 
 
 "And you never brought me any?" she asked, 
 turning to Mr. H.-P . 
 
 "I only got a bushel of them last spring from the 
 old country for seed. I haven't sold any of them. 
 Feeka wants all at home that we can spare. I want 
 to plant them next spring," said Jochen, by way of 
 apology. 
 
 "Yes, I see! But what makes them so different? 
 They don't taste nor act like the potatoes we get in 
 the market," she inquired. 
 
 "It is the table potato," said I, "of our people at 
 home. The kind we get here in the market is raised 
 there, too, but, it is called the hog potato; it is 
 very prolific, produces double and triple on the 
 same measure of ground what this one does, and is 
 raised for animal food, distillery purposes and to 
 make starch out of. It is produced here because it 
 fills the basket, and as the potato is not the staple 
 article of food, the quality of it has not attracted the 
 attention that it has received among people who live 
 on them almost entirely. The experiment of Mr. H.- 
 
 P , however, proves that we can produce the 
 
 very best if we plant the right kind. But I expect 
 you will have to renew the seed from time to time, 
 as we are near the southern limit of the natural 
 habitat of the plant. One hundred and sixty miles 
 south of here they can not use the seed more than 
 twice, and still farther south they have to import 
 new seed every year. Who sent you the seed, 
 Jochen?" 
 
 "August, your brother." 
 
 "I thought they tasted familiar, but I did not 
 recognize them as members of the family." 
 
 "For goodness sake, Mr. B ! Can't you 
 
 learn any manners? I have reproved you and tried 
 every way to break you of the habit of running 
 every subject started in conversation clean down 
 into the ground!" 
 
 "But that is just where the potato grows; you 
 may look all the days of your life and never find 
 one on the surface of the ground." 
 
 "Of course, you aren't through yet! Don't you 
 know that in good society it is rude to follow every 
 theme started in conversation to exhaustion?" 
 
 "Certainly I know, Mrs. F ." 
 
 "Then, why don't you practice what you know?" 
 she persisted. 
 
 "For fear," I answered, "that I might not find any 
 potatoes. The surface, you see, of a potato patch is 
 barren. You have to dig if you want to get potatoes. 
 On the surface you find nothing but the potato ap- 
 ple, which at certain stages of development is a 
 rank poison — almost as injurious to human health 
 
i8o 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 as the fruit of the manners you speak of is to human 
 intelligence." 
 
 "What have I told you, dearest," said Mr. F , 
 
 laughing. "There is nothing on the top, or under 
 the earth, but he will turn it into an illustration of 
 some phase of human existence!" 
 
 "What else is the whole earth for, if not to sustain 
 human existence, and how can that which sustains 
 help but illustrate what it sustains?" 
 
 "There, we have got ourselves back again on the 
 top!" 
 
 "Back to the place whence we started, and which 
 we never left and can not leave, unless we leave the 
 table for good — that is quit eating, quit asserting 
 that the tangible, the visible, the risible is for us; 
 and this I propose to do at least for an hour or two, 
 until my stomach changes my mind." 
 
 With this I arose from the table with the rest, all 
 in the best of humor. We now examined the wagon 
 to see that everything was packed properly, especial- 
 ly the birds destined to be mounted. 
 
 "See that you don't take anything with you, Mrs. 
 
 F , that doesn't belong to you, except our 
 
 kindest of feeling!" 
 
 We shook hands, and as the wagon started little 
 Theodore called out: "Oh, Uncle, Uncle! I forgot 
 cooney! Do bring cooney! I want to take him 
 with me. I can make him go to sleep with a stick!" 
 
 Jochen brought the possum in his box, for which 
 Pat found room between his feet. 
 
 Before unloading the boat we rested for some 
 time in front of the fire. After we had sat awhile, 
 each one occupied with his own thoughts, Mr. 
 F remarked: 
 
 "Henry, from your conversation last night, I 
 gathered — I don't know whether I understood you 
 right — that you don't attribute much value to grati- 
 tude, or any of the feelings of our nature, in the 
 conduct of human affairs." 
 
 "You no doubt received that impression, Mr. 
 
 F , and I am glad you mentioned it, because 
 
 it might lead you to a wrong conclusion. I value 
 family relations. The objection I urged was to the 
 tendency of the consciousness of the day to gen- 
 eralize them beyond their sphere. As father, hus- 
 band, son and brother, a man's conduct is governed 
 and ought to be governed by rules that would be 
 ridiculous if applied by him as merchant, banker, 
 manufacturer, artisan — as a member of civil society; 
 and still more so if applied by him as a citizen of 
 the state. As a member of his family his conduct 
 seeks and inspires gratitude, affection, reverence; 
 as a member of society he seeks profit; as a citizen 
 of the state, justice. If as a banker he conducts the 
 business with his client as he does his business with 
 his father, mother, sister, brother, with his wife, his 
 son, and daughter, he will not be regarded as a wise 
 man, and deserves to fail. He— as the poet says — 
 wears his heart on his sleeve, for daws to peck at. 
 Conversely, if he carries his rules of conduct, valid 
 and necessary in the bank, with him to the family 
 
 hearth, he will be regarded as a stoney-hearted 
 money shark, and his family may exist in name, but 
 lacks all the substantial elements necessary to pro- 
 duce and nourish sons and daughters capable of 
 perpetuating the relation. The family relation can 
 not exist unless we can love another being like our- 
 selves. This every true husband and wife does: and 
 it is this love which constitutes the ideal side of the 
 physical union, which broadens the man and the 
 woman into a family. It constitutes the spiritual 
 atmosphere of that family, superseding all law that 
 controls one man in his relation to another, for 
 there is no other. Love makes them one. It is the 
 preservation of this unit that constitutes the motive 
 for the toil and care of the father, the suffering and 
 patience of the mother, and its well-being is re- 
 flected back to them in the feelings of gratitude, 
 reverence and filial piety! 
 
 "It is because the emotions are recognized in their 
 full significance in monogamy that gives to the 
 family its truth as an institution, and this truth has 
 approved itself in the power of the nations of the 
 earth, which live under that institution. They hold 
 the sovereignty of the earth in their grasp. Any one 
 of them could to-morrow subpoena all the rest of 
 the peoples of the earth to a final arbitrament, and, 
 notwithstanding the immense disparity of numbers, 
 would prove itself supreme. The people of the 
 United States could do this, England could do it; so 
 could France, Germany, European Russia, Italy and 
 Spain. Each could do it, single-handed, and what 
 would the rest of mankind be against them com- 
 bined! But in the world of fact, the test of the 
 excellence of an organization is its power — its capac- 
 ity to maintain itself in spite of all comers. 
 
 "It is, therefore, not merely from the speculative 
 side, from the side of thought, that I value and ap- 
 preciate human emotions, but also from the side of 
 fact; from a recognition of the part they play in the 
 institutions, the spiritual garments of our existence. 
 It is because of this recognition that I also see their 
 limitation — that I demand that they should not be 
 claimed as authoritative in spheres where such au- 
 thority would prove destructive. 
 
 "I say, Mr. F , you ought to think as much of 
 
 your wife as you do of yourself; you ought to love 
 her as much. You agree with me, and say: 'I do! 
 When I look over my conduct in the past I have 
 nothing to reproach myself with. Her well-being 
 is and has been as precious to me as my own. And 
 so it is as regards my children!' This, you observe, 
 is not rhetoric, but fact. Then, if I add: 'But, Mr. 
 
 F , this is not enough. You ought to love 
 
 every woman like you do your wife, every man like 
 you do your son!' you naturally ask: 'But, Mr. 
 
 B , how do you think my wife would like that? 
 
 It seems to me this is in contradiction of the princi- 
 ple of mutuality, which demands not two or more 
 for one, but strictly, inexorably, one for one. My 
 whole self belongs to her, and on that condition 
 alone does her whole self belong to me. One equals 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 i8i 
 
 one. Your talk about loving all like her, or myself, 
 must be rhetorical flourish, not fact! I neither can, 
 nor will, as long as I have one wife, and one family! 
 You may talk; but this excludes that, and this holds 
 the power of the earth, and that does not. When 
 you say that I shall love my neighbor as myself, I 
 can understand that your talk might have had mean- 
 ing when neighbors meant brothers, sisters, uncles 
 and aunts — in patriarchal times. But under present 
 conditions, under the existing institutions, I leave my 
 loves and hates at home when I come down town to 
 my business, in the morning. I come to make what 
 I can, within the bounds of justice, for myself and 
 those I love, and if that is denied me I call upon 
 government and demand that justice which I am 
 ready to render. If you say this is wrong, I answer: 
 'Take away its power. That power is more respec- 
 table to me than your talk!' 
 
 "The more strictly business is conducted in ac- 
 cordance with its own law, the better it is for all 
 concerned, and the surer it is of success. If I 
 give a man a position because he needs it, regardless 
 of his ability to perform the duty appertaining, I 
 may be regarded as philanthropic, but I am certainly 
 violating the inherent law that governs the well-be- 
 ing of those depending upon the punctual perform- 
 ance of these duties. Instead of thanks and grati- 
 tude, I have earned pity and reproach. On the other 
 hand, if I appoint the man fit by his attainment, he 
 only receives his due. He certainly owes me noth- 
 ing; my compensation is derived from the adequate 
 performance of the function in question." 
 
 Mr. H.-P now got up and remarked: "Well, 
 
 you all keep talking and forget that our game is 
 being neglected. Henry, you must come and help 
 me — there is no managing them fellows by one's 
 self." 
 
 As these propositions were too evident to be called 
 in question, we all went to the boat to lend a hand, 
 
 although Mr. H was still too weak to be of 
 
 much assistance. 
 
 "I can't lift much, gentlemen," he remarked, as he 
 came in sight of the boat, "but I can admire your 
 morning's work. Do you think, Henry, there are 
 more left worth killing? I should suppose that seven 
 such bucks as you have brought into camp would 
 thin out the big fellows pretty well, from a range 
 not larger than the ground we have hunted on." 
 
 "It would look that way," I answered, "but these 
 animals are traveling. There is no telling from what 
 distance they come. If I knew the limits of the 
 pecan mast I could give something of a guess as to 
 the number of animals collected together near the 
 
 lake. Mr. H.-P says that there are no pecans 
 
 north of here. It may well be that there is a general 
 failure of the crop, and that it is confined to small 
 areas, situated like this, where a body of water of 
 slightly higher temperature than the rest, which the 
 lake maintains on account of the spring water it 
 receives, has acted as a protection against the frost, 
 ■which killed the crop at large. If this should prove 
 
 to be the case, and I'm inclined to think that it is, 
 as I noticed barren pecan trees near the western end 
 of the lake, where its water is cooler, we shall have 
 any amount of shooting, as long as we don't disturb 
 the does. It is the does that bring the bucks, and 
 they themselves are attracted by the pecans. The 
 bucks are not choice about their food — gobble up 
 anything that offers, so it doesn't detain them from 
 more important business. That is one reason why 
 their condition deteriorates so rapidly as the season 
 advances. We will have all the bucks we want to 
 shoot, but I don't think we will want many more. 
 In a few days their glory is passed, for the season, 
 and it will be an outrage to kill them." 
 
 "But what about the does? Don't they improve?" 
 "Yes, but I never kill a doe unless I am driven 
 to it by necessity— by hunger. The meat itself is 
 mferior; and the doe has something about her, some- 
 thing in her grace of movement, and the expression 
 of the eye, that protects her from my gun — when I 
 am at rest, and the animal moves about in sight, 
 without apprehending danger. If I walk along and 
 happen to jump her, the excitement of the instant, 
 and her apparent defiance of my skill, may endanger 
 her life; but when I am in cold blood, and the animal 
 manifests an unconsciousness of danger, that admits 
 of being interpreted as an appeal to my manhood, 
 generosity, or whatever you may call it, I can't shoot 
 her. Then, at this season of the year it is bad policy. 
 Where you find a doe you can kill a buck and instead 
 of sixty or eighty pounds of inferior meat, you have 
 a hundred pounds more of superior quality." 
 
 After protecting our game, we, that is Mr. F , 
 
 Mr. H.-P and myself, retired for a sleep, while 
 
 Mr. H asked me for my note book. 
 
 When I awoke it was past 4 o'clock. I could not 
 believe my watch, but the sun said the same thing. 
 
 I looked for Jochen, but he was gone. Mr. H — 
 
 was sitting by the lire, pouring over my notes. On 
 
 asking what had become of Mr. H.-P , he said 
 
 that they had gone to get squirrels. 
 
 "Has Mr. F gone, too?" 
 
 "Yes, they went up the creek, and have been 
 shooting an hour or more." 
 
 "The rascals! Why didn't they awake me! I have 
 slept until I feel half sick. They just slipped off to 
 get rid of cooking dinner." 
 
 "No, I told them that you and I would attend to 
 that. I think it is about time that I should do some 
 of the drudgery, too. I have played the gentleman 
 long enough. I shall cut but a sorry figure in your 
 notes if I don't set about doing something." 
 "Oh, well, they will hurt nobody!'' 
 "I don't know about that. There is something 
 about them that will give them interest, for a part 
 of the reading world. They show sincerity and self- 
 reliant insight, that are always attractive. Then, the 
 crudity of style, and want of method, are themselves 
 features that will make them acceptable reading to 
 many persons who do not appreciate the beauties of 
 form." 
 
l82 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "That is the very thing that I wanted to ask you 
 about. I have been trying for some time to find out 
 in what those beauties consist; but the fellows who 
 seem to know keep the secret mighty close. They 
 point to this author, and to that, and when I look 
 at the works they're as different as a buck in the 
 blue is from the same animal in the red or grey. 
 All that I have been able to formulate for myself is 
 that as the buck changes his coat with the season — 
 or rather has it changed for him — in order to remain 
 in harmony with the prevailing tint of his surround- 
 ings, so the different authors, and the same authors 
 treating different themes, seem to change the forms 
 which they employ to harmonize with the subject 
 which they treat, or, with the mental atmosphere 
 into which they introduce the reader. I have 
 thought, sometimes, that I noticed that when they 
 succeeded in permeating the form completely, so that 
 it is all of a piece, thought and expression, form 
 and content, as we find it frequently in Homer, 
 Sophocles, Calderon, Dante, Goethe, Shakespeare — 
 they were happiest. But these men are poets; they 
 create. They see the divine in human life, and body 
 it forth in forms which in themselves must necessarily 
 be divine, if true. But if the texture of a sack ought 
 to be fine in proportion to the grain you want to 
 store in it, it seems to me anything might do to hold 
 the happenings and thoughts as they occur in the 
 life of a molder of pots and kettles." 
 
 "Especially if that molder claims to be related, 
 through his craft, with the dwellers on Olympus! 
 When his eyes gleam from his grimy face, and 
 blanch at nothing, from the poets and philosophers 
 of world history to the doctors of divinity and 
 managing editors of the day, it seems to me, Henry, 
 that such matter should be expressed in language 
 born of leisure and reflection, and not in the crude 
 phrases inspired by fatigue and physical exhaustion. 
 There are sentences that are as tired as the hand 
 that wrote them, and nodding expressions, with the 
 eyes half closed in sleep. Still, it will be a valuable 
 source of entertainment to you when you want to 
 look back at the struggles, the feats and trials of a 
 life that will be symptomatic of the mass of human 
 exertions in the valley." 
 
 We kept talking about the forms of books, and 
 works of art, and although he showed me defective 
 sentences, he failed to show me why they should all 
 be perfect alike. I kept fishing about to see whether 
 I could catch some principle that would serve me to 
 reach beyond the mere likes and dislikes of this or 
 that man, or reader; but the water seemed to be un- 
 favorable to catch anything but stock phrases, such 
 as "clearness," "pithy," "interesting," "voluble," 
 "verbose," and the rest, all of which, no doubt of 
 great value to a person who enjoys the special privil- 
 ege of uttering them with authority, but to me they 
 seemed worthless. I therefore paid more attention 
 to preparing dinner, and less to literary cookery, 
 about which there is likely as little uniformity of 
 opinion to be expected in the near future as there 
 
 is about the variations of tastes in the kitchen, or 
 at the table. 
 
 I boned a turkey and one of the young swans for a 
 hash. I also prepared a pit, over which I intended 
 to barbecue the saddle of the spike buck, to take with 
 us for lunch on our trip, day after to-morrow, to the 
 landing. When I had everything ready on the fire 
 that required some time for cooking, I commenced 
 to pick out and fix places where we could swing our 
 deer for the night, to get them thoroughly cooled, in 
 
 all of which Mr. H helped me to the extent of 
 
 his ability. But he remains extremely weak. Every 
 exertion, however slight, starts the perspiration. 
 Young as he is, his system lacks recuperative energy. 
 I advised him to keep on taking quinine, as a tonic, 
 and prophylactic; for I actually believe he will get 
 chills if he doesn't. The afternoon slipped away into 
 evening, and still we saw nothing of our hunters; 
 but I felt no alarm, as Jochen is no slouch of a 
 woodsman, and is apt to keep his senses about him. 
 Finally dinner was ready, and I took the horn and 
 blew the signal, for an answer. After the proper 
 interval, I heard the "grussel-greite" off toward the 
 east. They came in with a handsome bunch of squir- 
 rels, an additional fish otter, a full mate to the one 
 
 first killed by Mr. F some days ago, and a 
 
 pair of minks. 
 
 After dinner was over, and the banter about slip- 
 ping off on the sly and leaving me to hold the bag 
 was adjusted, by them agreeing to clean their own 
 game, we swung our deer and I retired to the tent, 
 to my note book. 
 
 October i8, 1856. 
 "Well, how did you rest, Henry," inquired Mr. 
 
 F , as I looked out of the tent this morning. 
 
 "I don't know. I was too busy writing before 12 
 o'clock, and too busy sleeping since, to judge of 
 anything. What time is it?" 
 
 "Past seven, I think! By the by, isn't this Sun- 
 day? The boys wanted me to go shooting with them, 
 and were ready to take an oath that it is Monday, 
 but I know it must be Sunday; I could not have 
 lost a whole day." 
 
 "No, but you have lost two! It is Tuesday!" 
 "What?" 
 
 "According to my note book it is Tuesday, Octo- 
 ber 18." 
 
 "Well, that beats anything that ever happened to 
 me! Lost two whole days in one week?" 
 "Gained them, you meant to say!" 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that a person in the condition that you 
 were when we came here must have gained im- 
 mensely if he got his mind so occupied with en- 
 tirely new subjects as to forget the thread-bare rou- 
 tine of life, even down to the days of the week." 
 <• "That is true, Henry, and I have gained what I 
 came for. I feel like a new man. But we must 
 stay until Saturday, at least. That is the only mis- 
 take we made. We ought to stay until the snow and 
 bad weather drive us out of here." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 183 
 
 "That is, we ought to stay here, I mean in the 
 woods, all the time," said I, "because, as far as the 
 weather is concerned, we could do like the rest of 
 the inhabitants, or rather as most of them do; we 
 could go south and keep ahead of it. We need not 
 to allow the winter to overtake us any more than 
 they do. But that is not our object. All that I 
 aimed at was to get out of your tread mill, 
 just for a few days, just long enough to enable you 
 to realize that there is a world to breathe in out- 
 side of its walls! For myself, I need this once a 
 year, for the health of mind and body. After I 
 have worked a whole year my task becomes as I 
 imagine the tune must be which the old blind man 
 has been grinding out of his hand organ, on a 
 corner of Market street, for the last three months — 
 rather stale. The music is ground out of it; it is 
 mere noise. But where have the boys gone? Not to 
 kill deer?" 
 
 "Yes, I let Mr. H have my gun and they 
 
 went to kill a buck." 
 
 "Your gun? What became of his? It is as good 
 a deer gun as yours or mine!" 
 
 "I expect it was; but he lost it the other day — 
 gun, watch and hunting knife!" 
 
 "No! Strange I never noticed it. But since I 
 come to think, I was so much occupied with the man 
 that I never thought about his outfit. 
 
 "And you did not go with them because you had 
 no gun; why did you not take mine?" 
 
 "No, I wouldn't do that, because I knew how you 
 would feel about it. Persons like you, who take 
 such care of their things, are apt to become attached 
 to their tools; and don't like other persons to handle 
 them. Then, a gun is not an ordinary tool, in the 
 hands of a man like you." 
 
 "That is true, but there are exceptions in all things; 
 I wouldn't mind seeing my gun in your hands, Mr. 
 
 F . Of course, persons that are so far above 
 
 the real things of life, that they have no feelings for 
 them, no regard, no care — it would hurt me to see 
 them handle anything that I work with. My gun 
 would look reproaches at me if I saw it in such 
 hands!" 
 
 , "Just so, and still you don't allow such things to 
 absorb you." 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "That is the trick, Henry, that I must learn. I 
 make a machine, and the making and marketing of 
 it is itself a machine — I mean, it requires adjustment 
 of details and parts, each one of which has to be 
 kept up in working order, or the whole will eat 
 itself to wreck. Now, this fills my mind, day and 
 night, and when I heard you talk to my wife the 
 other evening about getting outside of ourselves, out- 
 side of what fills us, our mind and soul, I could not 
 help but think of the rest it would give to a man 
 if he knew how to do that." 
 
 "Yes, it is restful. But, I was talking not merely 
 of one's vocation, with its absorbing detail, but of 
 everything else, of every object of thought, as well; 
 
 then having placed this whole content to one side, 
 see what relation it sustains to me. In this activity, 
 you will observe, I enjoy independence; and inde- 
 pendence alone is rest. The desire for that is the 
 bottom fact of all our endeavors in life. The trouble 
 is, we are apt to look for it in directions that make 
 us more and more dependent. But I am through 
 eating. What are we going to do this morning? Are 
 our fellows going to come for the boat, if they need 
 it, or are we to take it down to them?" 
 
 "They will come for it. I agreed to keep camp and 
 let you sleep. Jochen thinks you work too hard, 
 and would not allow Mr. H to wake you up." 
 
 "How are our squirrels?" 
 
 "We have plenty." 
 
 "I tell you, we might go and kill some canvas- 
 back. I found a new feeding place yesterday — that 
 is, I did not see it, but I saw where the birds 
 alighted, where they dived down into the timber. 
 But we have some of them yet. Since we have got 
 to eating that steak, our other things have had a 
 rest." 
 
 "Suppose we catch some fish, Henry. The live box 
 is nearly empty and they will not spoil on us — we 
 can let them go if necessary." 
 
 This occupied us until Jochen came for the boat. 
 He reported that they had killed two bucks — and Mr. 
 H did not get over his sweat until after din- 
 ner. 
 
 "Why didn't you break the buck's neck, Mr. 
 
 H ?" I asked, as they reached the landing with 
 
 their game at the mouth of the dry run. 
 
 "Because I didn't want to injure his horns," he 
 answered. 
 
 "That settles it, Mr. F ; he is all right," said 
 
 I. "He has got back to giving us editorial reasons. 
 He doesn't need any more medicine — I suppose that 
 was the reason you threw away your gun, too, the 
 other day — you didn't want to injure the game with 
 it." 
 
 "No, the reason was that I had no reason — you're 
 oflf entirely. Who told you that I threw away my 
 gun?" 
 
 "Well, where is it?" 
 
 "Where I left it." 
 
 "Out hunting by itself! I don't wonder it got 
 tired of its master." 
 
 "You go and find it; I'll make you a present of it." 
 
 "Oh, certainly; liberality has always been your 
 weakness! It may strike in some of these days and 
 hurt you yet." 
 
 "That is something you need not to fear." 
 
 "I hope not, unless bad company and vicious ex- 
 ample prove the ruin of me. But such reckless 
 giving away of things that we haven't got is liable 
 to induce imitation." 
 
 "See here, Henry, when you were talking the 
 other evening about loading your gun, didn't you 
 say you greased the gun after you put the powder 
 in?" asked Mr. F . 
 
 "Yes; why?" 
 
i84 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Because we disputed about it this morning, and 
 
 Mr. H thought it made no difference. The 
 
 main thing was that the gun was greased." 
 
 "Yes, and so it is!" 
 
 "But you have some reason why you don't grease 
 the gun like everybody else." 
 
 "The reason is that he must do everything dif- 
 ferently from everybody else. It wouldn't be he if 
 he didn't," put in Mr. H . 
 
 "There, we have it again! Another editorial rea- 
 son; and a good one at that." 
 
 "I have been thinking of it," said Mr. F , 
 
 "and concluded that you did not want to wipe the 
 grease off with the heavy wadding you use on the 
 powder; is that right, Henry?" 
 
 "No, not quite!" 
 
 "No, of course not. If anybody else could even 
 guess the reason it wouldn't amount to anything!" — 
 again put in Mr. H . 
 
 "The last editorial elaborated," said I. "No, Mr. 
 
 F , the reason that I apply the grease after the 
 
 powder is in the gun and protected with the wad is 
 that I do not want to kill it. If I grease my gun 
 and then pour in the powder, a great deal of it 
 sticks to the sides of the barrel. Of course, this is 
 scraped off by the wad and not lost from the charge; 
 but it might as well be, for it has absorbed the 
 moisture of the grease and is dead. Now, I can 
 never guess the amount of the charge that is ren- 
 dered worthless in this operation; if I could it 
 would not be of much consequence. But by loading 
 the way I do, I have at least two charges that I am 
 absolutely certain will do the execution that I want; 
 and that in a buck hunt is a good deal. I know my 
 charge, I know the distance at which it will be 
 effective and I know that my gun will fire when I 
 want it to." 
 
 "I see the advantage that it would give to the first 
 charges after the gun has been cleaned," answered 
 
 Mr. F , "but after that, I suppose the difference 
 
 can be but slight." 
 
 "Not as much as in the first; still it amounts to 
 more than might be expected. The heavy wad cleans 
 out a good deal of the grease with the discharge, and 
 leaves the barrels certainly in a better condition than 
 they would be in under the ordinary way of loading." 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," he answered. "But even 
 that cuts no figure in this special shooting." 
 
 "I can afford to take the extra pains in order to 
 have an effective charge when the opportunity offers, 
 especially as that opportunity doesn't occur every 
 fifteen or twenty minutes. I hold it best, on general 
 principles, to be prepared to the utmost for an 
 event that I anticipate. Why the anticipation unless 
 it is to induce the preparation!" 
 
 By this time we got to the head of the lake, and 
 Sip came to tell us that everything was safe. When 
 
 we had put the deer in line with the rest, Mr. H 
 
 commenced hectoring about breakfast. 
 
 "That's all right; I am glad you remind me that 
 you are in such excellent shape to help yourself. 
 
 Everything is ready. There is the fire, yonder the 
 water, meat stares at you from every limb, while 
 potatoes, flour and cornmeal are waiting to be used." 
 
 "What have you got in that oven?" he asked. 
 
 "A mouthful to eat, which I saved for Mr. H.- 
 P ," said I. 
 
 While they were eating breakfast Mr. F re- 
 marked: 
 
 "Henry, I heard you say the other day that there 
 are other birds and animals in the forest that prac- 
 tice deception besides the possum; what are they? 
 I have never heard of them." 
 
 "It was one of his generalities — a mere flourish 
 with nothing in it. Nobody ever heard of a bird, 
 beast or insect besides the possum that plays pos- 
 sum!" put in Mr. H -. 
 
 "Of course, not in a newspaper office, where they 
 print the news! Practices and characteristics, uni- 
 versally distributed through nature, are much too old 
 to be talked about in a newspaper office," said I. 
 
 " 'Universally distributed through nature!' That is 
 another empty sack!" Mr. H retorted. 
 
 "Of course, you don't remember of ever meeting a 
 tumble bug when you were a boy, and to have made 
 him play possum by touching him with a straw — 
 you don't remember that, I suppose! It never oc- 
 curred to you that the very expression, 'playing pos- 
 sum,' was itself proof that mankind had observed 
 this practice indulged in by other quadrupeds, bi- 
 peds and living things besides the possum." 
 
 "That has never occurred to me, either," said Mr. 
 
 F . "But I have seen the tumble bug do it!" 
 
 "And have you ever seen a beetle of any kind 
 that did not?" 
 
 "No, since I come to think of it. All that I have 
 noticed, if you interrupt them in their flght, or 
 handle them roughly, will let on that they are dead." 
 "Yes," said I, "but this is only one kind of de- 
 ception, the most innocent, that I have observed. 
 The living thing that practices it only tries to induce 
 the belief that it is worthless, dead. It endeavors to 
 save itself by taking refuge in insignificance. It lays 
 there in the dust, filth or mire, or courts to be thrown 
 there, a piece of worthless carrion! But this is not 
 the only kind; although closely allied species of it are 
 not wanting. Meet our common quail, pheasant or 
 turkey hen with her brood of helpless little chicks, 
 for example, and instantly the mother bird is crip- 
 pled; lays there at your feet, with wings quivering, 
 helpless; almost begs you to pick her up. You step 
 toward her to see what is the matter; she is just 
 beyond your reach, but another step will enable you 
 to lay your hand upon her. That other step, how- 
 ever, you will have to repeat, and repeat, until she 
 has tolled you far enough from her little ones to as- 
 sure their safety — when lo, she remembers that 
 she has pressing business on the other side of the 
 thicket, and the wings but now quivering as with 
 palsy, hum the air in triumph. You are sold! 
 
 "Take our common milch cow, dullest of dull 
 brutes! She roams the public pasture. Her mistress 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 185 
 
 or ht. master notices that she is about to drop a calf, 
 and as the event is important for the household 
 economy, Brindle receives some attention — an extra 
 handful of salt, or a bucket of favorite slop, when 
 she happens to be about in sight of the house. 
 Brindle appreciates these things highly and has made 
 regular calls for a week or two." 
 
 "Did you see anything of the cow to-day?" asks 
 Jochen, when he comes home at night. 
 
 "No, she has not been around." 
 
 "Better watch for her to-morrow. I expect she 
 has a calf and hid it out." 
 
 To-morrow comes but Brindle doesn't. The next 
 day, however, she calls for her salt. 
 
 "Yes, Brindle was up and has a calf." 
 
 "Did you watch her? Which way did she go?" 
 
 "She went into the woods, back of the east field. 
 She has hid it somewhere in the bushes there, but I 
 can't find it. She kept watching me, but she wouldn't 
 go to it, although I had Sip with me." 
 
 This has been repeated day after day. She comes 
 up regularly for her slop, with her udder empty, or 
 nearly so; but the calf is nowhere to be found. The 
 innocent Brindle, after taking what is given to her, 
 stands around at the gate, for awhile, then bites off 
 a leaf here, crops a bunch of grass there, never sees 
 anybody watching her — not shel She is on her regu- 
 lar business, perfectly innocent. But while she is 
 going leisurely in that dull, careless, innocent manner 
 down toward the east field, behind which every bush 
 and weed patch has been tramped down by the 
 children and the mistress, in search of the calf, 
 Jochen calls Sip and starts in the opposite direction. 
 That is interesting to Brindle. Yes, she remembers, 
 all at once, that the grass is pretty well fed down 
 behind the east field; and see, her head is up, and she 
 comes charging up the fence, until close up to 
 Jochen. Oh well, there is nothing there anyway, 
 Jochen and Sip! Well, I see they are looking for 
 something. I expect I can show it to them, I know 
 — and off she starts at right angles towards the 
 south. 
 
 "I wonder whether they have seen me. Yes, there 
 they come; all right. I must be in a hurry!" 
 
 And away she rushes toward that new patch of 
 bushes. They are fine — so handy. But Jochen knows 
 she is not running a race with him toward but away 
 from the calf. And so he quietly turns around to go 
 where he intended to at first — behind that west field, 
 where he remembers a very likely place. Sure 
 enough! Although nobody has seen Brindle in that 
 direction, with all their watching, here are her tracks, 
 and not only that, but in a very short time Brindle 
 herself. Yes, Brindle, and Brindle very shy. Every 
 time you approach her, although perfectly gentle, 
 she retreats almost in terror — but never toward those 
 low dense bushes over there; oh no, not in that 
 direction! 
 
 This being the case, Jochen thinks it best to ex- 
 amine them and let Brindle tend to her own busi- 
 ness. After looking high and low, Brindle a careful 
 
 observer, especially when he doesn't observe her, he 
 sees the little brute. He has walked within a step 
 of it, almost stepped on it, over it, but not a hair 
 moved, not an ear twitched. He reaches down to 
 see whether it is alive and lo, the signal from 
 Brindle! Away goes calf and cow at full gallop. 
 There is no hiding now — no pretense of innocent 
 dullness! You better be careful. Sip, or you will be 
 tickled where it doesn't itch! 
 
 "Yes, and Brindle will do it every time; even now, 
 when she has to break out of her pasture to enjoy 
 the fun," said Jochen. 
 
 "Every cow and calf in the state will do it, and 
 of the two, the calf is the greater fraud — especially 
 as long as it has no confidence in its ability to escape 
 danger by the use of its legs. It will resort on every 
 emergency to the cloak of insignificance for protec- 
 tion. Nor is the practice to be criticised harshly. 
 
 "Take Pinky, the hen. All spring she has had a 
 fine time in the barn, and adjacent grounds, with her 
 gossips. Up in the hayloft, in a well sheltered nook, 
 of great privacy, where the March winds and early 
 April showers pass without causing inconvenience, 
 she has made her nest; and with every deposit of an 
 egg, hope, pleasant hope of maternal joys to come, 
 swells her breast, until full enough for utterance — 
 for proclamation — of the fact that she is to become 
 a mother — in this she is corroborated with great 
 gusto by Heck, the rooster — her soul's ideal of lusty 
 cockhood! In concert they cackle, proclaiming the 
 fact, until every hen in the yard joins in, and the 
 whole becomes one publication society, announcing 
 to all the world the facts of the present, with the 
 hopes they inspire for the future. 
 
 "The nest is filling, the time approaches. But see! 
 Who is that? It is Sis, wearing that well-known 
 apron. She comes from the hayloft, too, and that 
 apron, usually full when she comes and empty when 
 she goes, to-day is full when she goes. What is 
 this? I thought the nest was nearly full! Is there 
 something the matter with the bottom? No, that 
 can not be; I must have made a miscount! Arithmetic 
 and bookkeeping are not my forte, anyway! We hope 
 for the best. Days come and go; we lay, and cackle, 
 but that nest will not fill. To set the weary days 
 and nights on an egg or two — well, let it go! There 
 is no bottom to it. As for Sis, she is our friend, the 
 source of crumbs and things. It is the fault of the 
 nest, surely!" 
 
 "Mother, Pinky has quit laying. I believe I will 
 bring in the nest egg." 
 
 "You may as well. Hens can't lay the year 
 around!" 
 
 A week or ten days later — "Mother, can you tell 
 whether a hen lays or not by her looks? Grand- 
 mother said she could." 
 
 "Yes, I can tell, too. Why?" 
 
 "I wish you would look at Pinky. I believe she 
 has stolen a nest!" 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Out here; come and see!" 
 
i86 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Of course she lays! Don't you see how red she 
 looks about the head! You must watch her!" And 
 watch it is, but no eggs. 
 
 Another week has passed — "There, don't you hear 
 Pinky! Go quick! She cackles down in the brush 
 near the barn! She has her nest there in that brush!" 
 
 "No, she hasn't. I have hunted it over and over. 
 She cackles there, but I can't see any nest." 
 
 Some days later — "Mother, Pinky is gone! I 
 haven't seen her for two days! She is setting some 
 where!" 
 
 In the fullness of time there is a noise below the 
 kitchen floor — "Listen! If that isn't Pinky! And 
 just listen!" 
 
 "Yes, and Pinky has played it on Sis to some pur- 
 pose — found by experience that cackling, if it had 
 to be done, be better indulged in at a safe distance 
 from the center of our hopes — our unhatched eggs!" 
 
 "Then look at Molly Cottontail — the curs with 
 lolling tongues in hot pursuit! Down the ridge, 
 straight as an arrow her course! Why doesn't she 
 swerve! They are gaining upon her! See, she is 
 only a few jumps ahead, as she reaches that dry 
 flinty patch of ground at the point! Ah, see the 
 foolish thing! She turns at an angle so acute that it 
 looks as if she is intent upon suicide by jumping into 
 their open jaws! But no! She whisks by them, and 
 they not more than a step away they know, they saw 
 her right dead ahead; nothing diverts their attention! 
 They know, down yonder, just below the brow of the 
 hill — and with renewed vigor they rush down the 
 slope, over that flinty ground, there to that thorn 
 thicket beyond! But, how is this? No Molly in 
 sight! The snuffling nose of Pete proves that there 
 was a mistake made somewhere. But we saw her 
 come this way, and that thicket! She must be in 
 there! Investigate! After a thorough search we 
 conclude that she is not there, nor can we find any- 
 thing of her trail between the thicket and that piece 
 of dry, flinty ground. Beyond that — yes, here is her 
 trail, but that is the way we came, and we saw her 
 down yonder! 'Boys, she has got us! Let's go 
 home.' But if instead of following the foolish pack 
 of dolts, thus led by the nose, we had kept watch 
 of Molly and looked close, we would have seen the 
 air of self-satisfaction with which she returns in the 
 direction of her home. 
 
 "The race is not to the swift. Powers without 
 sense breed weary muscle, but leave the stomach 
 empty. Fresh rabbit may be a relishing bite, but 
 it takes exertion guided by sense to get at it. Nay, 
 with close attention we might have heard her chuckle 
 in her sleeve. She understood the use to which that 
 spot of stony ground could be put in case of need!" 
 
 "Do you propose to write this stuff down in your 
 notes?" asked Mr. H . 
 
 "If I get time, why not? Am I not telling it here 
 to illustrate how empty my generalities are? I sup- 
 pose you have forgotten your last editorial — but that 
 is no sign I should forget it, too!" 
 
 "Certainly not," he retorted. "Every foolish utter- 
 ance or occurrence has value for you!" 
 
 "Of course it has, if only to prove how foolish its 
 author is!" 
 
 "Well, Henry, I think you have made good your 
 
 word," said Mr. F . "You have illustrated the 
 
 practice of deception by insect, bird and animal. The 
 
 only thing I regret is that Mrs. F was not here 
 
 to hear you!" 
 
 "But, I have only commenced. I have only illus- 
 trated the practice of one kind of deception, and that 
 not very extensively — the kind used exclusively for 
 self-defense. But this is by no means the only kind, 
 and if you remind me some other time, I will give 
 you specimens of species that make our blood boil. 
 We have to look around now for something to eat 
 for our man. Sip says that he hears somebody 
 coming, and I expect it is either Pat or Nick, or 
 both together." 
 
 "How do you know Sip says that? He hasn't said 
 a word — he hasn't barked!" said Mr. H . 
 
 "Oh well, everybody understands a dog's bark — 
 or thinks he does — but a dog has other ways of indi- 
 cating his observations besides his bark!" 
 
 Sip, in the meantime, was stepping beyond the 
 sound of our voices, in order that he might hear 
 better, and — 
 
 "I suppose you hear him now, and no doubt think 
 you understand him, too!" I remarked as Sip gave 
 voice. 
 
 "Well, what does he say?" asked Mr. H . 
 
 "He says that he recognizes the noise of our 
 wagon. If it was a strange noise, one that he did not 
 recognize, he would talk with emphasis." 
 
 In a few minutes more Nick came in sight with 
 the colts, and Sip and Jochen both had to welcome 
 them. Mr. F remarked: 
 
 "That is a nice span of horses. If they were 
 trained they would do for a carriage team." 
 
 "I expect you will find them trained pretty well, 
 from the way Jochen talks to them, and the manner 
 they seem to appreciate his presence. You see how 
 jealous they are of each other for his attention." 
 
 "It looks like it; doesn't it!" he replied. 
 
 After they had taken care of the colts they came 
 to the fire, and Nick brought me kind remembrance 
 
 from Mrs. H.-P and the children — Henry and 
 
 Henrietta! 
 
 "Little Yetta said: 'Tell Uncle Henry that I talk 
 lots about him when I feed my big gander, and tell 
 him he is well and goes walking with me — and he 
 must bring papa home soon!'" 
 
 "Mr. F , did you ever hear pretensions as 
 
 preposterous! The idea, that a person can tell from 
 a dog's actions what the animal sees or hears at a 
 distance — or knows from his voice whether he barks 
 at a stranger or an acquaintance," bantered Mr. 
 H . 
 
 "I don't know," replied Mr. F , "what you 
 
 mean, Mr. H ; but speaking candidly, I believe 
 
 Mr. B can do what his remark implied, under 
 
 the circumstances. I can tell the difference between 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 187 
 
 whether a dog runs a cow in a pasture, or whether 
 he answers a neighbor's bark, a mile or two off. His 
 mouth is not the same; and why should not a person 
 
 of the habits of observation of Mr. B be more 
 
 expert in distinguishing differences that may escape 
 me? If you had been present the other day and 
 seen him listen when our little boy heard that dog, 
 you would think as I do. As soon as he called us up 
 
 and we all heard the dog, Mr. H.-P said: 'It 
 
 is Sip and he has treed!' But Mr. B said: 'No; 
 
 the dog is baying something on the ground.' And 
 you ought to have seen how that conviction affected 
 him! Up to that time he had been perfectly cool. 
 There was no excitement in the expression of his 
 face, or his manner — except that everything had be- 
 come decisive, short, no argument — of which he 
 seems so fond when there is nothing to do. As soon, 
 however, as he was convinced — and that too against 
 the opinion of the owner of the dog, and my own — 
 that the animal was baying something on the ground, 
 
 he said: 'The probability is that Mr. H has 
 
 wandered into a bog. The dog is asking for help. 
 Every moment is precious!' There was no doubting 
 his word then. His eyes blazed and the whole man 
 was transformed into one purpose, as he shot from 
 us into the cane in the direction of that sound. My 
 wife said to me that night when we got into camp: 
 'What a strange sight that man was as he turned 
 from us! There seemed to be nothing left of him 
 but eyes! I would give anything to have a picture 
 of him, as he looked, and the air of that head, as it 
 turned to face whatever danger there might be!' 
 And I agreed with her that I have never seen a 
 sight that I would rather remember. No, Mr. 
 
 H , at the extreme distance at which that dog's 
 
 voice was audible, he distinguished the difference 
 between a bark up a tree and a bay on the ground. 
 And his opinion proved correct. Then, when the 
 conclusion based upon that opinion proved incorrect, 
 it was still his knowledge of the habits of these 
 animals, under similar circumstances, that guided 
 him to success — and all of us out of a very disagree- 
 able situation." 
 
 "And me," answered Mr. H , "more than all 
 
 of you put together. But, Mr. F , you must not 
 
 take what I say in so much sober earnest. I like to 
 strike the flint to see the sparks fly. I don't pound 
 the stone because I hate it. Henry and myself were 
 college chums, and we have had many a wrestle, but 
 never a fight. If I did not love him I would envy 
 many, yes, very many qualities in him, which I 
 cherish because they ennoble my friend. But that 
 doesn't prevent him from being the most unmitigated 
 braggart of his knowledge of woodcraft that ever I 
 met in my life." 
 
 "Well," answered Mr. F ; "you two have to 
 
 settle it between you. I am afraid there is no peace 
 to be expected while camp lasts." 
 
 ".A.nd that city green-horn, permit me to add, will 
 persist in making himself the laughing stock of it, by 
 prating of things he knows nothing about. Doesn't 
 
 know a muskrat from a fish otter, and then presumes 
 to judge of what man can know about the habits and 
 conduct of animals! Never saw, in fact, an animal 
 in his life, unless one of those two-legged caricatures 
 that inhabit town slums!" 
 
 "Hold on! It is my turn now! You see that dog!" 
 Mr. H- exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, and you actually know from his action that 
 our other wagon is at hand, especially as you can 
 hear the rattle of it with your own two well-de- 
 veloped ears!" 
 
 Pat brought me a letter from Elizabeth, and a hand- 
 some watch from my little friend, Theodore, with a 
 letter from his mother; which I dare not copy for 
 fear these pages should get out of my hands, and 
 I be regarded as a vain cockscomb. Elizabeth's let- 
 ter all upsets me. She looks at me through the eyes 
 of Mrs. F . And when will I have the oppor- 
 tunity to show myself equal to her partial en- 
 thusiasm? How hard it is for a woman to be just! 
 "A man is either a hero or he is nothing," said I 
 to myself after reading the letter. Elizabeth also 
 
 gives me a list of the game, which Mrs. F sent 
 
 her, with the remark — 
 
 "We will have meat enough for a month, and 
 father is very happy! But don't expose yourself, 
 dearest. If I did not know you as well as I do, Mrs. 
 
 F 's description of your life in the woods would 
 
 keep me awake with apprehensions every night of 
 your absence." 
 
 "Yes, yes, my darling — and I will endeavor to 
 justify your confidence in my ability to take care of 
 myself." 
 
 I left the tent to get rid of reflections that act on 
 me like alcoholic stimulants — carry me with great 
 hilarity into a land of nowhere! 
 
 "Is it not about time, Henry, we were making 
 some preparations for our trip to-morrow?" asked 
 Mr. F , as I came to the fire. 
 
 "I should think so," said I; "and I expect you and 
 Jochen better go down and get us some fresh can- 
 vas-backs. We can cook them anywhere, with little 
 trouble, and will not have to gnaw cold meat all 
 day." 
 
 "All day? Do you expect to get back here by to- 
 morrow night?" 
 
 "That was my figuring! But I don't know whether 
 our teams can make it. What do you think, Mr. 
 H.-P ?" 
 
 "Well," Tochen drawled out, "you know, Henry, 
 the colts are young and can't stand much. It will be 
 a stiff drive if we go to the landing; that is thirty 
 miles from here, or a little more. Then, if we go to 
 the bluff from there, that will add some eight or 
 ten miles. I suppose it will be seventy or seventy- 
 five miles in all to get back here. Yes, we can make 
 it by starting a little early; but it will keep us agoing. 
 I think the colts would stand it." 
 
 "But, what time would we have to look around?" 
 asked Mr. F . 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "That would depend upon when we start", was 
 Jochen's answer. 
 
 "Just so! — I think, however, we better not calcu- 
 late to get back here to-morrow night. As we have 
 the trouble of the trip, we may as well get the bene- 
 fit of it and not come away empty-handed," said Mr 
 F . 
 
 "All right," I answered, "we will arrange accord- 
 ingly. Get off then and bring us a few additional 
 ducks. Away with you to the lake!" 
 
 "What's the matter with me," put in Mr. H . 
 
 "What have I done that I can't go along and kill 
 some ducks?" 
 
 "What would you kill them with — a hand spike? 
 You can't have my gun," said I. 
 
 "Of course not, but who asked you for your gun? 
 I reckon yours is not the only gun in the world!" 
 
 Saying this he stepped to Pat's wagon and came 
 back with an entirely new outfit — gun, loading appa- 
 ratus, shot and powder flask. 
 
 "Don't you wish you hadn't said anything?" said 
 he. 
 
 "All right, I am glad you have decency enough 
 about you not to rely upon sponging off other peo- 
 ple," I replied. 
 
 As they started Sip asked permission to go along 
 and I put in a good word for him. His face is nearly 
 well again, but it looks as if he had his head done up 
 in a fish net, with very small mesh. 
 
 I now set about in earnest to get dinner, with Pat 
 and Nick to help me; and before our hunters got 
 back everything was in ship shape except the saddle 
 of venison, which was still over the pit. 
 
 "What is that? Is that for dinner?" asked Mr. 
 H , when he spied it. 
 
 "No, it is the saddle of Jochen's spike buck, that 
 we take with us to-morrow for lunch." 
 
 Nothing would do, however, but they must have 
 a taste of it. All had heard of barbacued meat, but 
 never saw or tasted it. As I expected this, I had 
 left the three last ribs on the saddle and given them 
 the most fire, so that they would be ready for dinner. 
 These I served red hot, after soup, and neither Mr. 
 H , Mr. F nor Mr. H.-P tasted any- 
 thing else. 
 
 "This beats steak if anything can," said Mr. 
 
 H . "I thought the ribs of a deer were of no 
 
 account." 
 
 "Like most things that are regarded as of no ac- 
 count, it depends largely upon how they are used," 
 said I, sitting down to my private dish of possum 
 and baked sweet potatoes. 
 
 "What have you got there?" asked Mr. H — . 
 
 "Something that nobody else would taste if they 
 knew before hand what it was." 
 
 "What is it, Henry," asked Mr. F . 
 
 "The possum that Sip treed night before last," I 
 answered. 
 
 "Sit over there a little farther. Get off with it from 
 the table, on the log, man! Don't spoil our dinner 
 
 for us!" said Mr. H , with E, great pretense of 
 
 disgust. 
 
 "Help my plate to a taste. I should like to know 
 
 how it goes," said Mr. F . 
 
 After helping him to a slice, with a potato and a 
 baked apple, he said: 
 
 "You're joking, Henry, that is roast pig!" 
 
 "No — but the best substitute for it in nature. I 
 regard it quite important for camp. It adds variety 
 to its resources, and without variety the best of 
 material becomes stale. Nature does up her dainties 
 in many different wrappers, and the labels are some- 
 times very deceptive. I make it a rule never to buy 
 at her counters by the label alone, the outside ap- 
 pearance, but examine the contents before I make 
 selection. A young muskrat, for example, two-thirds 
 grown, is a great dainty, fully the equal of a young 
 fox squirrel of the same age. The latter is recognized 
 by everybody as a superior article of food; but the 
 foimer, simply because some ignoramus, thinking 
 he saw a resemblance, called the animal a rat, is 
 tabooed as unfit, unclean; yet, besides the squirrel, 
 there is no animal in nature that feeds as daintily as 
 the muskrat. Both live exclusively upon the germ, 
 the concentrated essence, of plant life — the squirrel 
 upon the germ, the seed and bud of arborial, and the 
 muskrat, on swamp, or water vegetation. It is a 
 gnawer, it is true, but not a gnawer of bones, no 
 scavenger, anymore than the squirrel, which is also a 
 gnawer." 
 
 "But," said Mr. H , "is there anything more 
 
 unclean in nature than the possum?" 
 
 "Nothing that I know of," I answered, "unless it 
 be the hog and man; for both, at certain stages of 
 development, are cannibals, and that, it seems to me, 
 is the acme of unclean feeding, as it contradicts the 
 very purpose of feeding — the perpetuation of life — 
 and is thus, logically, an eating that eats itself." 
 
 "What time do you propose for us to start in the 
 morning, Henry," asked Mr. F . 
 
 "I don't know. What do you think, Mr. H.- 
 P ?" I answered. 
 
 "I thought, Henry, you and me would start about 
 buck-hunting time. You see, we can't drive as fast 
 
 as Mr. F , and by starting a little sooner we 
 
 might get there about the same time. We wouldn't 
 want them to lay around there to wait for us too 
 long," said Jochen. 
 
 "No," put in Mr. H , "of course not; and if 
 
 there is anything annoying in a drive, it is to have 
 to wait for a slow team." 
 
 "Yes," drawled out Jochen, "but you see, Mr. 
 
 H , we have no others out on our farms and 
 
 we must get along with them the best way we can." 
 
 "Well, you can start ahead if you think it is neces- 
 sary," said Mr. F . "We will start at S o'clock. 
 
 Pat, see that the team is ready by 5." 
 
 I then requested Jochen to have an eye to the 
 
 barbacue, asked Mr. F to be so kind as to see 
 
 to the putting up of our lunch, and retired to the 
 tent to my notes. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 189 
 
 After the rest had retired and I felt fatigued from 
 writing, I boned some braces of canvas-backs and 
 gave instructions to Nick about the treatment of 
 our game during our absence from camp, I then 
 shovifed him the best fishing place, gave him the 
 tackle, but advised him not to go out with a gun 
 until we came back. 
 
 "What time shall I call you," he asked. 
 
 "There is no occasion to trouble yourself about 
 that, Nick. Jochen or myself will be awake in time. 
 Good night." 
 
 October 19, 1856. 
 
 Jochen was not astir as I woke up, but when I 
 looked out of the tent, Nick was poking the fire and 
 the cofifee pot was steaming on the coals. 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry, sonny, we have plenty of 
 time," said Jochen when he came out of the tent, a 
 few minutes later. 
 
 "What time is it?" 
 
 "A quarter past four," I answered. 
 
 "I thought so — we have plenty of time! You see, 
 we want to start just a little ahead of them I 
 
 wouldn't like to pass Mr. F 's team on the 
 
 road; and you know, it might not be easy to keep 
 from it." 
 
 "Of course, Jochen, I thought your modesty was 
 a little, just a little put on, talking about your colts 
 as if they were ordinary plugs!" 
 
 "Well, sonny, when people expect little, a very 
 little more goes a great ways to be much, as your 
 father used to say, and I don't mind showing them 
 a team that can travel. You better put the cooking 
 things in our wagon. Perhaps we will have time to 
 get a mouthful to eat ready before they overtake us 
 at the landing." 
 
 As we sat down to breakfast Mr. F came out 
 
 of his tent and said; 
 
 "Aren't you off yet? It lacks only a quarter of five. 
 Pat, is the team ready?" 
 
 "It will be as soon as your honor is done eating." 
 
 "Where is Mr. H ? Oh, here he comes!" 
 
 A few minutes later Jochen and I started. 
 
 "Now, Henry," said he, as we got out of camp, 
 "we will poke along until they come in sight up in 
 the road, at the spring, and then we will see who will 
 be annoyed by waiting for a slow team." 
 
 But he had both hands full, with all the coaxing, 
 scolding and cajoling he could do, to keep the 
 horses down to a gait reasonably safe for the road, 
 or no road, that we were driving on through the 
 woods up to the spring. Here he stopped, examined 
 the gear, every buckle, strap and chain, talked to the 
 colts and fooled away time until Pat hove in sight. 
 
 "Give the road there," called out Mr. H . 
 
 But just then the colts started, and we managed to 
 keep ahead, in sight of them for a mile or so, until 
 ■we struck a piece of good road, visible straight ahead 
 for a stretch of some three miles. As soon as we 
 reached it Jochen settled himself down to drive. 
 Without a call, the mere manner of handling the 
 reins, with the splendid road under their feet, and 
 
 before them, sent the horses off in a trot that made a 
 person's hair singe, and gave me the impression, as I 
 
 looked back, that Mr. F 's team had come to a 
 
 halt. 
 
 "That will do, Jobe, that will do!" said Jochen, as 
 we neared the end of the stretch. 
 
 "That will do for a warmer, steady now, Jobe" — 
 and the horses eased up, as we ascended a spur of the 
 bluff. 
 
 "Have we given them road enough, Henry, or do 
 they need more?" asked Jochen. 
 
 "They are coming with a rush, some two miles 
 back — I can just see them, Jochen." 
 
 "All right, but I reckon we better give them a little 
 more," he remarked; and we went on, not at the 
 rate of speed we had driven the last three miles, but 
 still fast enough to keep out of sight, the 'whole way 
 to the turn, where the new road starts west to the 
 river. 
 
 As we made the turn, he brought the colts down 
 to a gait that gave us an opportunity to judge of the 
 work done by the "Olle Kulle." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, that is well done. You don't find 
 many new roads like that. See, the old fellow has 
 cut down every tree alongside that could shade the 
 road and make mud holes! Yes, that looks well. 
 See, if he hasn't a lot of puncheons piled up there, 
 on a scaffold, to replace any that may be carried 
 away by high water from the bridge," Jochen re- 
 marked, as we passed the bridge over the slough. 
 
 "But he was working for himself," Jochen con- 
 tinued. "He gets more use out of it than anyone 
 else, I bet. Yes, you see there, he has been hauling' 
 wheat over it already!" pointing to a few grains 
 scattered on the corduroy, at the western end of the 
 bridge. 
 
 "No, Henry, this looks well, if he did want that 
 land down yonder to build a barn on! Look, isn't 
 there somebody down there!" 
 
 "I don't know. It looks like it, but I can't tell. It 
 may be a cow brute, or a horse, or something of 
 that kind," said I. 
 
 "Not there, sonny. Come, Jobe, step up a little!" 
 
 It was not long before we could distinguish a 
 wagon, down near the landing — but not plainly, on 
 account of the belt of timber that closed the far end 
 of the road, and cut oflf the view to the river. But 
 we were now going at a rate of speed that diminished 
 the distance very rapidly, and it was not very long 
 before Jochen called out: 
 
 "Henry, that is Conrad Witte, with his trumpet- 
 ers!" 
 
 "Nonsense, Jochen, you can't see that far!" 
 
 "Yes but, sonny, it is him, sure! You see, he knows 
 that we would be here to-day." 
 
 "How did he find that out?" 
 
 "I told him, and he said maybe he would come, 
 too; he had some things to show and talk to you 
 about. That is him. I know it, don't you see!" 
 
 "No, I don't yet; but it may be as you say, be- 
 cause I don't see who else it could be." 
 
I9P 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 When we got a mile or so farther, I had to agree 
 with Jochen, and as we came up, Conrad himself 
 greeted us. 
 
 "Yes, you see, I didn't have to drive as far as you 
 did this morning, and beat you. I staid all night at 
 Mr. Kroemer's," said Conrad, by way of explana- 
 tion. 
 
 "But why didn't you let me know that you would 
 be here?" 
 
 "Oh, you see, Henry, I didn't know it myself, for 
 certain; but I wanted to be with you, if I could, 
 to show you several things that we had to do here, 
 without you knowing anything about it. You were 
 so busy, and things could not wait!" 
 
 "What is that over yonder, Conrad," I asked. 
 
 "That is a house," he answered, "we had to build. 
 Ycu see, the people had to have something to put 
 their wheat in, and there was no use to wait. It isn't 
 much of a house, but then it answers the purpose, 
 for the present." 
 
 "But who built it?" 
 
 "The neighbors built it for you — the tenants, 
 Kroemer, Kulle and the rest. When they cut out 
 and built the road, they wanted something to go 
 into at night, and to eat in, and I thought that while 
 they were at it, they might as well put a little more 
 work on it, so that it would do to put things in that 
 they wanted to ship." 
 
 "Yes, they are using it already, I see." While we 
 were looking through the cracks at the pile of 
 wheat, stacked up in sacks, on the inside, Jochen, 
 who had been with his colts, came up. 
 
 "What have you got there, Henry?" he asked. 
 "When did you have that built?" I explained to 
 him what Conrad had said. "Now, that is first rate, 
 only you must have them top logs let down and two 
 more rounds put on. That old skin-penny, he knows 
 well enough how it ought to be done! But, a kick 
 and a cuff is good enough — if it isn't his own. I 
 wonder whose wheat that is in there?" said Jochen. 
 
 "I think it is Kroemer's, and likely the other pile 
 is Mr. Kulle's. But where are the other people that 
 were to come with you, Jochen?" asked Witte. 
 
 "I don't know," he said, looking down the road. 
 "I don't see anything of them yet." 
 
 "Are they coming," asked Conrad. 
 
 "Yes, some time to-day, I suppose," drawled out 
 Jochen. 
 
 I explained to Conrad that Jochen had been play- 
 ing one of his pranks. 
 
 "You know he will do that," said Conrad. "He 
 can't live without that. But I wanted to go with 
 both of you over yonder a piece, in that direction"— 
 pointing toward the southeast. 
 
 "There is a piece of bottom prairie there, some 
 fifty acres, I should judge, and Mr. Pastor has a 
 man who would like to rent, build a house and live 
 on it. It is not too far off; he could have an eye on 
 the ware-house and see to the shipping; and they 
 wanted me to see about it while you are here." 
 
 "Let us go and see what the land is," said Jochen. 
 
 "No, they are not in sight yet," he said, as we 
 crossed the road. Conrad showed us the land and 
 Jochen got wild. 
 
 "Just look at it!" he exclaimed, kicking up the 
 black mold, sufficiently mixed with sand to make it 
 loose. "Just look at it! Take the hoe and plant 
 your corn after you run the fire over it, in the 
 spring, and you have a crop! Who is it that Mr. 
 Pastor wants to plant here, Conrad?" 
 
 "A Mr. Rinehold," replied Conrad, "a good man. 
 He speaks English and our people know him." 
 
 "Narren tant, Conrad! I tell you what you do," 
 said Jochen. "I didn't know this land was here, or 
 I would have talked to you about it before. I tell 
 you what you do — you bring down Mr. Poggy, your 
 son-in-law. He speaks English, too. Henry buys 
 you the other half of this section and you give it to 
 Lisken, your daughter. They build their house right 
 here, and they have a farm ready made. Henry can 
 let them have this quarter for five years and in that 
 time they will have enough land, and land that is 
 land, opened, as much as they want to use! This is 
 too good for anybody else. It don't overflow once 
 in a man's lifetime!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Jochen," replied Conrad. "That is not 
 so bad. What do you think about it, Henry? Would 
 you rent it to my son-in-law? I think he would be 
 glad of the chance, although I had not thought of it." 
 
 "If it is rented at all," I answered, "I would rather 
 that Lisken lived on it than anybody else; and no- 
 body else can have it, if she wants it; but I have 
 asked Mr. F for his advice in regard to the man- 
 agement of the landing, together with what apper- 
 tains to it, and as soon as I can look it over with 
 him you shall know." 
 
 We now turned back to the landing, and as we 
 came in sight of the road we saw Pat coming in 
 full trot. 
 
 "What in the world became of you fellows! You 
 left us as if you didn't care a button whether we 
 
 caught up with you or not!" said Mr. F ; 
 
 alighting from the wagon. 
 
 "Well," I answered, "I expect Mr. H.-P was 
 
 afraid to be in the way of Mr. H , and then 
 
 you know there is nothing so annoying in a drive 
 as to have to wait for a slow team." 
 
 "How long have you been here," he asked. 
 
 "About an hour and a half, perhaps a little longer." 
 
 "Say, Mr. H.-P , what kind of horses are they 
 
 that you are driving? I thought I understood you 
 to say they were nothing but colts," said Mr. F . 
 
 "One is five and the other six years old, coming 
 
 April, Mr. F . I raised them, and so I still call 
 
 them colts," answered Jochen. 
 
 "Yes, and a better pair to travel it would be hard 
 to find. They have dried out as if they were tramed 
 
 race horses," Mr. F remarked, as he lifted the 
 
 blanket and passed his hand over Jobe's loins. "They 
 are perfectly gentle, too, I see," he added. 
 
 "Yes," drawled out Jochen in reply, "they have 
 never learned any bad tricks. You see, I never al- 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 191 
 
 lowed anybody to handle them but myself, until 
 here lately. Yeu know a horse hasn't got much 
 sense, but a good deal more than most people think; 
 and a colt that gets into everybody's hands has no 
 chance to learn anything. They know how to work 
 and how to behave, if the man who drives them 
 knows what a man can ask of a horse." 
 
 "Yes, there is a great deal in that," said Mr. 
 
 F , and turning to me he said: "But, Henry, 
 
 where did you get this road down here!" 
 
 "You must ask my friend here," said I. "Permit 
 
 me to introduce you to Mr. Witte, Mr. F ; Mr. 
 
 F , Mr. Witte; and this is Mr. H , an old 
 
 school mate of mine, Conrad." 
 
 "And you built this road for Mr. B , Mr. 
 
 Witte?" asked Mr. F . 
 
 "No, Mr. F , Henry is mistaken. I expect if 
 
 you look into that house there you will see what 
 built this road," leading him to the warehouse. 
 
 "Ah, I see!" exclaimed Mr. F . "A half a 
 
 steamboat load of wheat, already." 
 
 "It is the new crop, just ready for market; and 
 the people have had to haul it so far with their 
 wagons that they had to earn it over again, and 
 when Henry had this road laid out they were glad 
 to cut it out and put it in order, so that they might 
 use it." 
 
 "Of course," replied Mr. F , "and you were 
 
 perfectly right, Mr. Witte. It was that wheat which 
 built the road — the marketing of that wheat. Let me 
 see, where are we on your land, Henry, I mean how 
 far is it from here to the north and south line of the 
 section?" 
 
 "The road is in the center. It runs on the half 
 section line," I answered. "Come, let's go up to the 
 north corner. I would like to see the river up there." 
 
 "All right, Mr. F ," I replied. "Jochen, will 
 
 you get lunch ready by the time we get back? I feel 
 like eating something — or will you go with us?" 
 
 "No, I will get everything ready, Henry." 
 
 When we returned we sat down to lunch, and 
 looking around over the ground Mr. H asked: 
 
 "Henry, why didn't you have that road cut out and 
 built down to the river bank. That is one of your 
 oddities, I suppose!" 
 
 "You hit it exactly, Mr. H ," I answered. "It 
 
 was the mere desire not to have my landing look and 
 be served by the river like other people's landings 
 look and are served. I did not care about having it 
 washed away, and so refused to have holes bored 
 into the bank that the water could use to undermine 
 and destroy it." 
 
 "Who is such a fool as to do that!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "Everybody," said I, "who cuts down a tree upon 
 the river bank. He kills the roots of the trees that 
 penetrate the ground in every direction. These roots 
 rot and leave the space they occupy a hole, which the 
 water upon and in the ground uses and widens into 
 canals to reach the river, when it is falling after a 
 flood. The consequences are that the bank is under- 
 mined and tumbles into the stream. Now, just for 
 
 the sake of the oddity of the thing I would like to 
 preserve this bank, for a mile or so, as I want it for 
 a different purpose." 
 
 "How is that, Mr. H ," asked Mr. F ; 
 
 with a smile; "there is nothing impracticable in 
 that, is there?" 
 
 "Well, it seems he has looked around some since 
 I knew him at school," said Mr. H . 
 
 After lunch, Mr. F and I strolled down 
 
 the river to the south corner of my land and in re- 
 turning we came by the piece of bottom prairie which 
 Conrad had shown to me. I told him of the conver- 
 sation that I had with Jochen and Conrad, and asked 
 him what he thought of it. 
 
 "I don't know yet, Henry," said he. "When we 
 see the rest, and I have some idea of the amount of 
 business there is likely to be concentrated here in 
 the near future, we can better determine what is best 
 to be done. One thing, however, we may as well set- 
 tle now. You can't have a stick of timber cut or 
 killed within two hundred yards of the river bank, 
 under any circumstances. You are perfectly right in 
 regard to protecting the bank by the timber. I had 
 never thought it out, but I see it as plain as day- 
 light, and all the experience on the rivers con- 
 firms your conclusion. 
 
 "But, Henry, I am surprised at that road! I 
 haven't seen a new road, built under the wretched 
 system that prevails, any where in my travels in the 
 western country that can be compared with it." 
 
 "I expect, Mr. F , that Mr. Witte hit it about 
 
 right. These people needed a road, and they built 
 it; and my impression is that the same thing will 
 be done in other localities. The trouble in regard to 
 our roads largely is that there was no need for them. 
 The public domain, open and free on every side, 
 furnished room for new tracks, when the old ones 
 became so deep that they were no longer practicable. 
 These things will change as population increases, and 
 many of the conveniences which we have been ac- 
 customed to, in the older and fully developed parts 
 of the globe, and which we miss here, will come in 
 the same way." 
 
 When we got back to the wagons we consulted 
 about the programme for the balance of the day, and 
 for to-morrow. It was finally agreed that we should 
 drive up to the bluff, take a general survey of the 
 situation, then Mr. F and Mr. H re- 
 turn and stay over night at Mr. Pheyety's; while, in 
 order not to strain their simple frontier accommo- 
 dations, Mr. Witte, H.-P and I would 
 
 stay at Mr. Kroemer's. Then to-morrow morning 
 
 we would come by for Mr. F and Mr. H 
 
 and drive to camp. 
 
 "Drive ahead, Mr. H.-P . It would be a pity 
 
 to compel animals like those to swallow our dust, 
 and we will never reach your wheels close enough 
 to be inconvenienced by yours. Drive ahead, and 
 
 wait for us at the foot of the bluff," said Mr. F , 
 
 as we were about to start. Accordingly, we started 
 off at a lively, but not a killing pace. When we 
 
192 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 reached the bridge over the slough, Jochen gave his 
 team some water, and as we started again, Pat was in 
 hailing distance. At the foot of the bluff we waited 
 
 until they came up, and Mr. F ■ suggested that 
 
 I take a seat in their wagon, eo that I might point 
 out the land to them. Jochen, however, thought It 
 would be better for us to drive to the first corner, and 
 then lor both of them to take seats with us. This was 
 accepted as a "compromise," according to Mr. 
 
 H , and we drove on. As we got in sight of the 
 
 corner and the eye swept down the south line of the 
 fence, Jochen exclaimed: 
 
 "As far as the eye can reach, sonny! How does 
 that look for a garden patch!" He was still on his 
 feet — now telling Jobe not to make a fool of him- 
 self, and then giving vent to his pleasure, at the sight 
 
 before him, in short ejaculations, when Mr. F 
 
 came up. 
 
 "Get out and get in, Mr. F- 
 
 -, both of you — I 
 
 mean get out of your wagon and get in mine. Take 
 this seat," Jochen said, as he turned up the rear 
 seat. 
 
 "You see," he continued, "this is Henry's farm, 
 as far as you can see that way," pointing east; "and 
 that timber yonder belongs to it and this hill here — 
 I mean, it runs nearly to the foot of the bluff. Get 
 up, Jobe!" 
 
 And we rolled down the road, until we came to 
 the corner where it turned east. Here he stopped 
 the team, and as he arose and pointed down the 
 road, with his right hand, he looked at least six 
 feet ten. 
 
 "There, now you see it. That is what Henry has 
 done in the last four months. Every stick of wood, 
 every house, every furrow of land plowed has been 
 put where it is since last July!" 
 
 While we were still looking over the ground, which 
 but a few months ago was a wilderness of grass, 
 Mr. Witte came up and as he drove alongside 
 asked: 
 
 "Henry, how does it look to you? Every time I 
 look at it from here, I think it looks well." 
 
 "Yes," I replied, "Conrad, it does look well. Those 
 two lines of fence down the road look like they had 
 been cast in molds, and the way you placed the 
 houses looks like it was done by human beings — and 
 not as if they had been snowed from the sky, alight- 
 ing by accident, here and there. But what is that 
 big building over yonder, which stands by itself as if 
 it needed no neighbors?" 
 
 "That is the school house," he answered. "And I 
 wanted to mention to you, Henry, that you ought to 
 locate the church for the settlement before you go. 
 You see, the people need a blacksmith shop and a 
 shoemaker's shop, and a tailorshop, and then they 
 want a place close by where they can sell their eggs 
 and butter and chickens, and things — the small things 
 that the women folks raise, and where they can get 
 pepper and salt, and such things. And these places 
 ought to be where the church is, because our people 
 can't run around on week days and make special 
 
 trips for things that they can bring with them when 
 they come from church." 
 
 "And where would you place that church and the 
 houses you have mentioned, Mr. Witte," asked Mr. 
 F . 
 
 "I think, Mr. F , right over there somewhere," 
 
 he said, pointing to the western half section. "As 
 near the corner as might be convenient. You see, 
 when the wagons go to the landing they all pass 
 here, and that would be convenient for them. Then, 
 if the church were here, too" — 
 
 "I see," answered Mr. P . "Mr. H.-P , 
 
 please drive up to the edge of the bluff, straight up, 
 as if this road from the east kept on its course." 
 
 When we got to the edge of the bluff and saw 
 the bottom beneath us, with the river gleaming on its 
 western border, they sat for some time enjoying the 
 
 sight. Finally Mr. F said: "Henry, could you 
 
 and I walk down the bluff?" 
 
 "Certainly, only the climbing back may be a little 
 tiresome to you." 
 
 "I'll risk that," he said, and jumped out of the 
 wagon. I followed suit and we walked down. When 
 we got to the road he remarked: 
 
 "Henry, the first thing you do is to continue that 
 road from the east straight down to this point, to 
 intersect this road right here. It will cost a few 
 hundred dollars to grade the bluff, but that is noth- 
 ing. You then take the two forties on each side of 
 the road, north and south, between here and the 
 western fence of your farm property, and lay it out 
 in building sites, from time to time, as the occasion 
 may demand. Then, the landing you place in the 
 hands of just such a man as Mr. Witte and Mr. 
 Hanse-Peter may select — but don't allow any busi- 
 ness there, except the shipping and receiving of such 
 articles as the people may want. That is all there 
 is in the situation. These one hundred and sixty 
 acres are likely, under the arrangement I have in- 
 dicated, to be worth quite as much money in fifty 
 years from to-day as the entire farming land that 
 you own. I can only say 'I congratulate you.' It 
 is a good situation, and you have the best of men 
 to help you. How is it that these two men are so 
 attached to you?" 
 
 I related to him the circumstances of my youth, 
 and the interest that Jochen and Conrad had taken 
 in me from early childhood. 
 
 "I see now," said he; "that is, I see enough to fit 
 the rest together." We returned to the wagons. 
 
 When we reached there Mr. H met me and 
 
 said: 
 
 "Give me your hand; I congratulate you. I had 
 not expected this — but you have friends, and that is 
 the half of life." 
 
 "No, Mr. H ," I answered, "it is the whole; 
 
 the only thing upon which I deserve congratulation." 
 
 We now walked down to the fence, to enjoy at 
 
 more leisure the sight before us. There we met 
 
 Pat, who had driven up from the corner, and we 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 193 
 
 separated fcr the night. As they turned to go 
 Conrad said: 
 
 "Now, Henry, you thought of staying all night 
 with Mr. Lueke, but wouldn't you like to drive down 
 the road, look at what has been done a little closer, 
 and then we might stop with Dierck, where Mr. 
 Fromme is likely to expect us. I told him last night 
 that you would be at the landing to-day, but that I 
 did not know whether you would have time to come 
 out on the bluff. He had to go to a wedding and 
 couldn't come with me, but said he wanted to see 
 you. But if you are tired you drive down to Lueke's 
 and I will go up and bring him down." 
 
 "No, Conrad. Your first suggestion is the best. It 
 will not tire the colts too much, Jochen, will it, if we 
 drive to Kroemer's?" 
 
 "Narren tant, Henry; sonny, narren tant! Don't 
 you see how Jobe is tickled at the looks of that 
 straight road? You fix up them lines, Conrad, and 
 get in with us here, and let the mules follow the 
 wagon. You can tell Henry who lives in the dif- 
 ferent houses, as we drive along." 
 
 "That is so, Jochen, and I expect I better do that," 
 answered Conrad. 
 
 After Conrad got in we started, and as we reached 
 the first two houses, facing each other on the op- 
 posite sides of the road, he remarked: "We have 
 numbered them, Henry. That (pointing to the south 
 side) is No. 19 and the one there, opposite, is No. 
 20. We commenced on the southeast quarter of the 
 ■eastern section and called it No. i. And across the 
 road from that, on the northeast quarter, we called 
 it No. 2. In that way, the even numbers are on the 
 •north and the odd numbers on the south side of 
 the road. Mr. Pastor thought, and so did I, that it 
 •would be better that way for you. You know names 
 ■change, but numbers don't. Now, here lives Mr. 
 Mueke; that is nineteen, and there at No. 20 lives 
 Mr. Ploesmeyer." 
 
 "It was well," remarked Jochen, "that you placed 
 the Muekes out here, on the edge of the settle- 
 ment, and near to the bottom. They like to be 
 near the water, and the people, I reckon, would rather 
 not have them too close by." 
 
 Of course, he referred to the mosquito, as Mueke 
 is the general name for the family of insects to 
 which the mosquito belongs. 
 
 "Oh, you're always full of your foolishness, 
 Jochen," said Conrad. "Yonder," he continued, as we 
 were driving along, "at No. 17 lives Suentmueller, 
 and his neighbor at No. 18 is called Klapka." 
 
 "Now, that is right, too," said Jochen. "Suent- 
 mueller can grind up all the sins of the settlement, 
 and Klapka can keep him to his work, can crack 
 the whip at him." (Playing on the meaning of the 
 two names, as Suentmueller means sinmiller and 
 Klapka, one who cracks the whip.) 
 
 "He might have more to do, Jochen, if you lived 
 here, but as you don't, I reckon Mr. Pastor will tend 
 to that. He will keep the settlement clean of sin," 
 replied Conrad. "That, there," he continued, "at No. 
 
 15, is Mr. Henry Hahn's, and at No. 16 lives Mr. 
 Goessling." 
 
 "That," put in Jochen, "is all wrong, Conrad. You 
 ought to have known better than that! The Hahn 
 (rooster) ought to have been in the center of the 
 settlement. Do you mean that the people at the east- 
 ern end shall sleep all day? To give him a Goessling 
 for a neighbor, that was all right. They are used to 
 each other and live peaceable enough together. 
 But—" 
 
 "But," Conrad interrupted, "you have one of your 
 boy's fits, Jochen. There isn't a sober word in you 
 to-day. You are beside yourself. It is not neces- 
 sary, Henry, to tell you the names. You see it all on 
 the paper as you know the numbers. Mr. Pastor 
 has it all down on the map you gave him." 
 
 "That is true, Conrad," I answered, "and that will 
 leave Jochen the only one uninformed. I think, upon 
 the whole, it serves him right." And we passed 
 several houses without a word being said. 
 
 "Who lives there, Conrad," asked Jochen, as we 
 approached a house out of line with the rest, and 
 much larger. 
 
 "That," said Conrad, "is Frederic's school-house. 
 The people called it that, to remember Henry's 
 father!" As the horses passed the first corner of the 
 lot, handsomely enclosed with a board fence, newly 
 whitewashed, Jochen took off his hat, and so did 
 Conrad. The rest of the way up to Mr. Kroemer's 
 was passed in silence. 
 
 "Nay, Henry, that is so. I must tell you; any- 
 thing, I would give anything I have to drive your 
 father over that road! Just once! I have thought 
 again and again, while we were in camp, when I 
 heard you talk and do with those people, and the 
 night I came to see you and found you laying on 
 the bare ground, with every stitch of outer clothes 
 you had wrapped around that man — I thought I 
 would like him to see you! But, that drive this 
 evening!" 
 
 "Well, Jochen," I interrupted, "these things will 
 occur to us; and there is a way of looking at them 
 that keeps those who have gone before and whom 
 we love and reverence near us, through all the vicis- 
 situdes — I mean the changes, the ups and downs — -of 
 life. But such things I keep under lock and key; 
 you and Conrad have a right to see them — but the 
 air outside, you see, Jochen, is a little harsh for 
 plants and flowers of rare fragrance! We are here 
 in the barn-yard — don't say anything of this when 
 we get into the house." 
 
 "No, sonny, that I wouldn't; you depend on that!" 
 
 As we came around to the porch, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Kroemer and Mr. Pastor received us with kindly 
 greeting. After some time spent with the usual 
 inquiries about the health and well-being of our- 
 selves, the relatives, mutual friends and acquaint- 
 ances, we adjourned to the table, where the same 
 theme was continued by us, the talking members of 
 the company — Mrs. Kroemer, Mr. Pastor and myself. 
 Supper dome, Mrs. Kroemer took a lamp and said: 
 
194 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "I think Mr. Pastor and you, Henry, "will have a 
 good deal to talk together. Come, I will show you 
 to your room." 
 
 "But you must not stay with them, Mincken, for 
 Henry can't 'tend to business when you are about," 
 said Jochen. 
 
 "You need not to be jealous of Henry. He has 
 owed me a kiss these twenty years, and if I live 
 fifty years longer, you will find it among my bad 
 debts when I die," she said, shutting the door behind 
 her with some emphasis. "Come this way, Mr. Pas- 
 tor," she continued. "You take my room, where you 
 will not be disturbed." And she tripped up the stairs, 
 with an air as if she were a girl of eighteen. "Here, 
 now, you use this table, and when you want any- 
 thing, just rap on the banister, at the head of the 
 stairs." 
 
 "That is kind in you, my daughter," said the 
 minister, as she retired. 
 
 "Suppose, Mr. B , we both look over these 
 
 papers first. They are all completed. I have num- 
 bered them, and the number of each corresponds to 
 the number of the lot, the quarter section on the 
 plat," he continued, unwrapping a package, which 
 proved to contain the leases. I examined a few of 
 them and found that they were filled out with ac- 
 curacy and neatness. 
 
 "I better sign them at once, while you unfold 
 them," said I, "and you can give the people their 
 duplicates." 
 
 "That would finish up the matter at once," said he, 
 and in half an hour my leases and plats were wrap- 
 ped up and out of the way. 
 
 "Now, I suppose, Mr. Witte has shown you what 
 we have done, and while we had to take some liber- 
 ties in the matter, as such things are always sur- 
 rounded with detail that is hard to foresee and pro- 
 vide for, I hope we have not abused your confidence, 
 if we had to exceed our authority now and then." 
 
 "Most assuredly not, Mr. Fromme. I regard either 
 of you as incapable of doing that; and the only 
 thing I regret is, that I see no way of returning 
 the services which you have rendered me. in some 
 way appro.ximately adequate. But that is the nature, 
 more or less, of every true discharge of duty — 
 as I need not to remind you. I am more than 
 satisfied with what has been accomplished, and ap- 
 prove in advance whatever you and he may deem 
 necessary for the future welfare of these people, so 
 far as it depends upon my consent." 
 
 "Mr. B , in that respect I have but one sug- 
 gestion to make, and that, I suppose, Conrad has 
 mentioned to you already — I mean the selection of a 
 site for our church. The settlement lacks a center; 
 and if we wait it will select itself at haphazard. That 
 ought not to be. It leads to waste, and that, too, to 
 a waste that is transmitted from generation to gen- 
 eration — almost as bad as vicious habits are from 
 father to son." 
 
 "You refer," said I, "to the waste involved in the 
 transmission of products from producer to consumer, 
 
 by that haphazard location over the world of the 
 various industries of civil society?" 
 
 "No, Mr. B , my mind doesn't grasp the 
 
 whole; I only see things on a small scale. I see our 
 settlements and the errors committed there. The 
 principle no doubt has its application beyond my 
 sphere; but outside of it, I do not see that application. 
 Here, however, I see it. Two weeks ago we built a 
 warehouse on your land, to enable our people, from 
 the old settlement, to ship their wheat to St. Louis, 
 by river. After the first load of wheat, which they 
 hauled to the landing, the miller at Belleville offered 
 them three cents more per bushel for their crop than 
 he was willing to pay them before." 
 
 "Yes, a general law is liable to be operative in the 
 smallest place, on the frontier, with the same efifect 
 that it sways the affairs of the crowded populations." 
 
 "Now, for that church site, Mr. Fromme. Conrad 
 mentioned it to me, and he also called my attention 
 to the fact that the people need a blacksmith, shoe- 
 maker, tailor — in other words, need a village to per- 
 form the function assigned to such aggregations of 
 man by the agricultural pursuits in the vicinity. I 
 have looked at it, and if it meets your approval, and 
 the judgment of Conrad, I will continue the road that 
 runs through my property from east to west, on 
 straight, through the half section on the bluff, until 
 it intersects the St. Louis road, in the bottom. The 
 bluff we will grade down as opportunities serve. On 
 either side of this road, where it cuts the half section, 
 the ground is at your service. You select the site 
 for the church that suits you best. I would suggest, 
 however, the north side and then near the center, 
 that is, as near half way between the bluff and the 
 present fence upon the property as practicable. I 
 propose to reserve the two forties, on either side 
 of the road, for building site purposes, and will pre- 
 pare and send you the plats as soon as I return to 
 the city, where I will have them put in shape for 
 record, so that the matter may have, or receive, its 
 proper legal form 
 
 "The landing I propose to place in the hands of 
 Mr. Poggy, the son-in-law of Mr. Witte. No busi- 
 ness will be permitted there except the receiving and 
 shipping of goods and produce, and such storing as 
 may be necessary to facilitate this, together with 
 ordinary accommodations for persons who desire 
 to go and come, to and from the city, by that route, 
 while waiting for a steamer or team. This is the 
 general outline of my purpose as far as circumstances 
 have made it clear, aided by the counsel of friends 
 who assisted me in looking through the situation." 
 
 "And this is all that is necessary for the present. 
 It is complete, and I would not know how to add to, 
 or take from. But, what amount of ground have 
 you allowed, in your own mind, for the church site?" 
 "A single block, neither more nor less; not so 
 large as to hinder the every day business by ob- 
 structing streets, or to arouse passion by undue 
 display, passions which it is the very purpose of 
 vou to restrain within rational limits." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 IPS 
 
 "That, too, is well, Mr. B- 
 
 -," answered Mr. 
 Fromme; "but suppose, with the blessing of Our 
 Father, we should be able to build an academy — an 
 institution which we need so much, for the training 
 of our teachers and ministers, at least in what we 
 might call the primary higher branches of education 
 — would one block of ground be enough?" 
 
 "For the church, yes. For both church and school 
 — no. But I did not intend that it should be, for the 
 church must be separate. It must occupy the al- 
 loted space by itself. Its inner purpose is distinct, 
 and that purpose should be indicated by its external 
 appearance and surroundings. Not even the school 
 can occupy the same inclosure. You will want ground 
 for a parsonage besides. This must be large enough 
 to furnish a garden — both for use and recreation. 
 The block for the parsonage will be the square north 
 of the church — if you select the north side of the 
 street. Then for the schoolhouse, or the site for 
 the academy, we must cross over to the southwest 
 corner of the village, where we have air, the southern 
 breeze and a free, extensive horizon. Quiet, too, 
 can be had there; nor will the running to and fro of 
 the village be hindered in that quarter, if we have 
 to close, or not open, a street or two. In other 
 words, there we can occupy the room we need. But. 
 in the meantime, you must have an eye to it, Mr. 
 Fromme, that none of the beautiful trees on that part 
 of the ground is injured. We will need them. 
 Now, when I get the plats ready, I will send you 
 two copies. Upon one of them you mark the block 
 you select for the church, and also the one for the 
 parsonage; then send it back to me, with the name 
 of the congregation that will improve the property, 
 and I will send you the dedication of the ground, in 
 legal form. The site for the academy I will select 
 myself and indicate it on the plat — the dedication of 
 it is not a matter that presses — but we can attend to 
 it the next time I come out, or as soon as you 
 furnish me the name of the beneficiaries." 
 
 "Why, Mr. B , you leave me nothing to ask, 
 
 absolutely nothing. You are ready to give with 
 both hands — far beyond what I would have dared 
 to ask." 
 
 "The land necessary for public or general purposes 
 it is for me to supply, for I am the general proprietor, 
 Mr. Fromme." 
 
 "That's it, that is the peculiarity of dealing with 
 you. Everything flows from general principles and 
 acts that we are accustomed to applaud, as based on 
 noble sentiments, you attribute to logical necessity, 
 as the result of clearness of vision, and largeness of 
 view. What you say is true. But where do you 
 find men that see, or if they see, appreciate such 
 truths?" 
 
 "Well, we must leave such people to paddle their 
 own canoes. They have neither sails, nor machinery 
 to use instead. None of us can hit the mark farther 
 than we can see; if we do, it is accident and not our 
 skill that guides the bullet. A few can hit as far as 
 they can see, but the mass of us lose our aim at 
 
 the instant of fire; our nerves betray us. Your 
 judgment approves the plan I have explained, Mr. 
 Fromme?" 
 
 "Yes, in every detail, and all I ask is, leave me 
 something to do in forwarding its execution. It is 
 such a privilege to feel identified with the accomp- 
 lishment of objects that reach into the future with- 
 out limit." 
 
 "Well, to-morrow morning you go with us, I 
 mean with Jochen and Conrad. We will drive over 
 the ground, explain our plans to them and hear 
 what they have to say. Conrad I know will agree 
 with us — but Jochen may give us trouble." 
 
 "He loves the ground because it belongs to you, 
 and a piece sold seems to him to diminish the man 
 he loves. Well, it is a great thing for him to have 
 you. It has opened his heart, which was contract- 
 ing, or threatened to contract, into a mere purse. 
 Afifection and respect, if but for one human being, are 
 a great blessing. They keep the ice open — the ice 
 that with age incrusts the heart — the spring of afifec- 
 tion and good will that flowed so freely in youth and 
 early manhood. Afifection for any man is a great 
 thing, but if that man is worthy to be loved, if he is of 
 a stature that towers into the sky, every look at whose 
 face lifts the eye above all littleness, the small selfish 
 purposes and aims of life, whose every glance 
 reaches the center and traces every arc of the periph- 
 ery, however short to that center — affection for 
 such a man is ennobling, elevating, a blessing beyond 
 prize." 
 
 "I agree with you, Mr. Fromme, that it is im- 
 portant to have an object for our emotions, and a 
 worthy one if possible, but I don't think that Mr. 
 
 H.-P was in danger of becoming a one-sided 
 
 moral cripple for the want of such an object. He 
 is a husband and a father. As the one, he is loving; 
 as the other, he is indulgent and kind. It is true, 
 this is not enough to finish and preserve the man. 
 That requires that as a member of civil society he 
 should be thrifty, and as a citizen of the state he 
 should be just. The first and second of these rela- 
 tions furnish the motive power for the third; but it 
 is the fourth that reaches over the first three, pre- 
 serves, sustains, maintains them, and renders rational 
 existence possible under the sun. Now, in this last 
 relation, so important for the whole, he may be said 
 to be weak, nay must be so of necessity — but not 
 in the sense that he would fail to do justice to his 
 neighbor. That is impossible for a man who fills 
 the first three relations as a man — as Jochen Hanse- 
 Peter does. But in the higher sense — that he con- 
 tributes his full share to the public spirit and insti- 
 tutions which secure the existence of justice as a 
 reality — in this sense he is weak, but who, I ask, 
 is strong? 
 
 "I see, however, that here the same difference of 
 point of view from which we regard human life 
 and human excellence, which you mentioned before, 
 again intrudes; and we better adjourn the discussion 
 of a man until we have found an opportunity to as- 
 
196 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 certain the difference in the length of the yard-stick 
 which each of us applies. Mine, you observe, is 
 rather short. It demands a loving husband, a kind 
 father, a thrifty member of society and a just citizen. 
 I do not see where to find another that I would dare 
 to apply to a fellowman; for, by this alone I am ready 
 to be measured myself. This man has a right to 
 demand of his fellow, because man cannot exist with- 
 out it as a rational being, and this alone is the basis 
 of that right. I propose we go below and see 
 whether the people are all asleep." 
 
 "So be it, Mr. B , and as we value in com- 
 mon so much that is excellent, let not the cut of 
 my last year's gown offend you, for I assure you, 
 
 Mr. B , that the color of your cap, although no 
 
 favorite of mine, does not diminish one particle the 
 respect which I entertain for the head beneath it." 
 
 With this we went below. On joining the com- 
 pany we found that the "Olle KuUe" had come, while 
 we were upstairs, and was engaged in his usual de- 
 bate with Mrs. Kroemer — while Jochen was acting as 
 moderator. Of this position he seemed to entertain 
 a peculiar conception — that is — as to the duties that 
 it imposes. All he did was to add a drop of oil to 
 the fire, from time to time, on whatever side of the 
 hearth the flames threatened to go out, or flicker 
 with unsteady virulence. The subject under discus- 
 sion was the conduct of the miller, at Belleville, who 
 had swindled them — downright swindle, that was it; 
 yea, swindled them out of their wheat, all of it, for 
 years; just because they had nowhere else to go. 
 The other party did not see that it was swindle, and 
 when that position was threatened, turned the whole 
 works of the opponent, by seizing with true feminine 
 alacrity, and, as it were, at one leap, the new one — 
 if it was swindle, it served them right. The river 
 had never been farther from the settlement than it 
 was to-day, the prairie was open and the bottom not 
 fenced up. Why did they not have sense enough to 
 see their way to market! 
 
 Of course, this settled the question. "But, if I 
 was Henry, I would make you pay me for showing 
 it to you," she remarked in conclusion. "No doubt 
 you would; I have no doubt!" answered the "Olle 
 Kulle." 
 
 "But, Mr. B ," he remarked, addressing me, 
 
 "that was the reason I came down this evening. I 
 heard that you were here and I wanted to see 
 whether you intended to make us pull the house 
 down that we built on your property without your 
 consent." 
 
 "That," said I, "Mr. Kulle, would hardly be neigh- 
 borly; you must leave me the house. You see, I will 
 never prosecute a man for going on my land to 
 build up, but when it comes to tearing down, that 
 is a different matter!" 
 
 "That is right, Henry. You keep the house, and 
 make them pay for it," said Mrs. Kroemer. 
 
 "That would hardly be fair either, Mincken, 
 would it? Suppose, now, that next spring you 
 should want to go to the city. You go down to the 
 
 landing, and there you find Mr. Witte's daughter, 
 Lisken. You stay with her until a steamer comes 
 by, and just as you want to step aboard, I come up 
 and ask you toll for passing over my landing. What 
 would you say?" 
 
 "I would say," she answered, "as soon as you pay 
 me for the plums you stole out of our orchard, I 
 will pay you toll at your landing." 
 
 Of course, the laugh was on me. 
 
 "And your answer would be exactly right. Neigh- 
 bors can not weigh things with an apothecary's 
 scales. The loss of time involved in keeping the 
 reckoning outbalances the value of the transactions, 
 and a boy's pocket full of plums may well be pleaded 
 as an offset for a walk over a landing — that is, if we 
 don't take into consideration the punishment of the 
 boy when he was caught. 
 
 "What was that, Henry?" asked Jochen. 
 
 "If you say another word, Mr. B , I'll leave 
 
 the room," threatened Mrs. Kroemer. 
 
 "Oh ho, ah ha, that is a horse of another color! A 
 sheep's head with different wool," as the boy said 
 when he put his hand on the hedgehog. 
 
 "Come, Mr. B , tell us what you refer to," in- 
 sisted "Olle Kulle." 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, I have heard it said that the 
 boy is father to the man; if this is true, it can hardly 
 be in the boy's lifetime. He necessarily dies the day 
 that the man is born, and if that is true, don't you 
 think it would be asking a good deal of the man to 
 tell stories on the boy, his parent, and that parent 
 dead and gone, no longer able to defend himself, or 
 his memory? 
 
 "But, it is getting late and this is not attending 
 to business. The landing, Mr. Kulle, will be in 
 charge of Mr. Poggy, Mr. Witte's son-in-law, who 
 will move there as soon as the necessary prepara- 
 tions can be made. Mr. Fromme, Mr. Hanse-Peter, 
 Conrad and yourself will constitute a board, to de- 
 termine from one season to another what is right 
 between the people who do not live on my property 
 and who want to use the landing and myself. The 
 people who live on my property and the produce 
 raised by them will have absolutely free use of the 
 landing, except as they pay for the necessary ser- 
 vice, and contribute their share to keep the road 
 and necessary improvements in good serviceable re- 
 pair. No outside business, beyond the storing and 
 shipping of goods and products, will be allowed at 
 the landing, except that Mr. Poggy will have to pro- 
 vide for the accommodations of persons who desire 
 to go by that route from the settlement to the city 
 and back, while they are waiting for a steamer. He 
 may also provide vehicles to such persons as may 
 want to visit the settlement, and are not provided, 
 and are willing to pay a reasonable price for the ser- 
 vices rendered. How does this suit you, gentlemen?" 
 
 "Anybody who objects to that," said the "Olle 
 Kulle," bringing his fist down upon the table, with a 
 whack, by way of emphasis, "let him go and estab- 
 lish his own landing." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 197 
 
 "That is what I say," responded Mr. Kroemer. 
 "And now, gentlemen, good night; I am tired." 
 
 October 20th, 1856. 
 
 We found breakfast served so "that we might have 
 the day before us," as Mincken remarked — that is, 
 with the first blush of daylight; and as the horses 
 had also been attended to, with a view to this, we 
 were in our wagon before the sun was in the 
 prairie, that is to say, Jochen and myself. Mr. 
 Pastor had gone home last night, and we left Conrad 
 to wait for him. 
 
 "Nay, Henry, she is a good woman; 'tis a pity she 
 hasn't got a man, a husband, I mean, that is her 
 equal. But it is as it is. They can't all be matched 
 if they are all to be mated," said Jochen, as we 
 reached the road. 
 
 "But, they get along well enough together. She 
 has a house full of children, and they ought to help 
 out." 
 
 "Yes, yes, sonny; but children are children. You 
 love them, but they can't carry the short end of the 
 handspike; it takes a man to do that!" 
 
 When we got to the corner, and turned west, he 
 stopped the horses. "Yes, Henry, it looks as well 
 from this end as it does from the other; I don't 
 know but a little better. The ground seems to hang 
 a little this way." 
 
 "I am inclined to think, Jochen, that is a mistake, 
 owing, no doubt, to the light. It looks that way, 
 however; but the drainage, the run of the water, tells 
 a different story. 
 
 "That is down yonder — but up here you see the 
 heads of the drains all look toward the west." 
 
 We now drove down the road leisurely, to the 
 great annoyance of Jobe, who required a good deal 
 of persuasion to give us time to examine the im- 
 provements. 
 
 "How is it, Jochen," said I, "that you have com- 
 menced to talk when you drive the colts; you used 
 to be as silent as a stick of wood?" 
 
 "No, but I didn't talk any more than the colts, 
 sonny. That was because I was talking to them, 
 and they required all my attention, as we did not 
 understand each other quite as well as we do now. 
 You see, they are out of school, have graduated, 
 now. They understand what we want of them. Nick 
 can drive them now; yes, and so could you. But 
 they had to learn this first, and I did not want to 
 disturb them at their lesson. Then, if you are care- 
 less and allow them to make a mistake, it takes you 
 a long time to teach them that it is a mistake. It is 
 best when you train a horse to do nothing else. He 
 likes to learn, but you must not confuse him. 
 
 "But isn't it strange, sonny, how a little order 
 makes things look respectable? Just see, there is 
 nothing on the ground but log cabins, and rail 
 fences, and because they are placed in that way, it 
 looks as if the people that live in them were some- 
 body. They a kind a help each other to look like 
 
 something — and you are surprised that you see noth- 
 ing but a log cabin when you look at any one by 
 itself." 
 
 "I expect, Jochen, we are liable to get the im- 
 pression from this order that there is some com- 
 mon purpose behind each little homestead, which im- 
 presses upon us the idea of the whole, in each part, 
 and makes that part bigger than it is. Then the 
 order and neatness around these cabin yards — that 
 wood pile yonder, under the shed, each stick piled in 
 its place, carried up smooth like a wall, as if in- 
 tended to stay there forever. All these little things, 
 even down to the turnip-patch convenient to the 
 barn-yard, repeated at every cabin — all tend to give 
 the impression that we don't see it all; that to see it 
 all we must look with the mind's eye, and any- 
 thing that does that, or makes us do that, is always 
 pleasant." 
 
 The people were all up and astir. The men were 
 mostly occupied in putting the last touches to their 
 fences, stables and outbuildings. Some, however, 
 were cutting sod, on pieces of prairie that had been 
 broken two or three weeks ago. The disadvantages 
 of unseasonable breaking were obvious; but labor, 
 persistent labor, overcomes everything. A goodly 
 sprinkle of women folks, girls from twelve to sixteen 
 years of age, and some older ones, who had children 
 at their heels, were preparing the prairie for garden 
 spots, near the cabins, with spade and hoe. Others 
 were busy planting fence posts, for a "pailing fence" 
 around their garden plots, already spaded, raked and 
 hoed into shape for next spring's use. In the entire 
 drive we did not see one idle human being. All 
 were at work — each his own task master. As we 
 reached the western section, the condition of the 
 ground showed what experience had done for the 
 "OUe Kulle." 
 
 "Just hold the horses for a minute, Henry, I want 
 to see that land. Yes, sonny," he said as he came 
 back, "that is worth knowing. They have made a 
 garden out of it — a garden. They have four inches 
 of soil pulverized as fine as a garden bed. That is 
 what I call making land out of wild prairie. No 
 wonder he gets rich, the 'Olle Kulle!' Look yonder, 
 
 Henry! If that isn't Mr. F tramping the 
 
 prairie like a rabbit hunter! Have you noticed, 
 sonny, how he is taken with the colts? Well, the 
 man that takes them out of my hands pays for them, 
 that is certain!" 
 
 "You wouldn't sell them, Jochen, would you?" 
 
 "No, I don't want to; but then they are rather 
 stylish to haul truck and potatoes with. You see, 
 they ought to be worth more than that." 
 
 By this time Mr. F reached us with a friendly 
 
 "good morning." 
 
 "Well, gentlemen, I beat you. You are pretty 
 early risers, too, but you had to come farther. I 
 
 left Mr. H asleep, and thought I would like 
 
 to see a little more of your farm, Henry, before our 
 return. Would you mind to drive down the road a 
 little piece with me?" 
 
ipS 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Certainly not, Mr. F- 
 
 -, if there is anything 
 
 that Jochen can not show you, as well as I can my- 
 self; but if there is not, I would like to examine 
 that ground up there, with a view to the matter that 
 you suggested to me last night. If Jochen can take 
 you down the road, I can look over the ground until 
 you return; and we will be ready to start for camp 
 sooner." 
 
 "That suits exactly! Just jump out and I will 
 take your seat." 
 
 "Well," said I to myself, as Jochen turned and 
 started down the road, "I will not have much time 
 to look for what I want to see, if that is the speed 
 at which you are going to drive;" so, after saying 
 "good morning" to Pat and assenting to his "ain't 
 them elegant goers," I turned to step oflf the eastern 
 front of the northern forty, adjoinmg the contem- 
 plated road, through the western half section. After 
 a step or two, however, I noticed that the forty in 
 the field east of me was cut ofif by a cross fence, so 
 I merely took the line from that and went west to 
 the edge of the bluffs. In coming back I cut diago- 
 nally for the road, where I noticed Conrad and Mr. 
 Fromme had arrived, and were talking with Pat. 
 After greeting, Mr. F asked: 
 
 "Where is Mr. H.-P going to? He is driv- 
 ing as if he were going for a midwife, or to bring 
 a doctor to the bedside of a person in extremis. No 
 accident has befallen any of the people, has there?" 
 
 I explained to him that he was only giving the 
 colts a little exercise for the amusement of Mr. 
 
 F , who had expressed a desire of seeing a 
 
 little more of our farm and people than was visible 
 at this distance oflf. We then started up the south- 
 ern two forties and explained to Conrad what we 
 had concluded to do, as we were walking over the 
 grounds. 
 
 "But how much room would that give, Henry? 
 You must not make it too small," Conrad remarked. 
 
 "The two eighties will make sixty-four blocks, of 
 three hundred feet square each, fronting on sixty- 
 foot streets. Each block, if we allow fifteen feet for 
 an alley, will give us twenty-four lots of twenty-five 
 feet front, by a depth of one hundred and twenty-two 
 feet, six inches to an alley. This would give us 
 room in the village for seven hundred families, with 
 liberal allowances for church, parsonage and school 
 purposes. In the meantime, I own the adjoining 
 land on three sides and am not likely to dispose of 
 it soon, so that we can protect the village, as long as 
 it may need protection, and enlarge its boundary 
 as and when the future may dictate." 
 
 By this time we had arrived near the center, as 
 near as the eye could determine, and I pointed out 
 what I thought to be the most eligible site for the 
 church — the fourth block from the eastern and the 
 fourth block from the western line of the village, 
 while the square north of it I indicated as my selec- 
 tion for the parsonage. This places the church in 
 the center of the village, fronting south on the main 
 
 thoroughfare; the parsonage, on the other hand, as 
 near to the church as can be permitted, but more 
 retired, as the purpose to be subserved demands. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Pastor," commenced Conrad Witte, 
 "what is there to be said. We may turn it upside 
 down, and the other end foremost, and it still is as 
 Henry thought it out. You send us out the papers, 
 and Mr. Pastor and myself, we will stake off the 
 ground. I will have to be here a good deal anyhow, 
 as Lisken will be here; and we can do that at odd 
 times. But, how do you propose to do about the lots 
 ■ — about disposing of them? You see, we ought to 
 know, because the people must have places to work." 
 
 "I have not thought it out yet, Conrad. Only 
 one thing I have settled. I will sell no lot except 
 to a person who wants to build on it; and anybody 
 who doesn't build within the time agreed upon for- 
 feits his title — unless it appears he was prevented by 
 circumstances over which human beings have no con- 
 trol, and in that case, he will receive back his pur- 
 chase money, without interest. Another thing I have 
 settled, in a general way, and that is, I don't propose 
 to work for nothing, nor do I intend to allow 
 the accidents that govern values prescribe for me 
 the limits of my profit. I do not propose to make 
 out of it what I can — no more than what is a just 
 compensation for my labor, risks and judgment 
 devoted to and involved in the enterprise. If the 
 market value of the lots rises above that, I shall not 
 refuse to accept the surplus — as that would interfere 
 with the rights of previous purchasers — but I shall 
 apply that surplus to a fund for the improvement of 
 the common facilities — such as streets, sewers, water 
 supply and the like, as they may become necessary. 
 In that way I propose to return the increment that 
 may accrue above my just compensation to the 
 source from which it emanated, the common exer- 
 tions of the people of the village. 
 
 "These general principles I have settled, Conrad, 
 but the details I have not. I cannot tell you to-day, 
 sell this lot for such a price, on such terms of pay- 
 ment and conditions, and that other, at such and such 
 figures — but I will send Mr. Pastor a plat, on which 
 the price of each lot will be marked, as far as may 
 be necessary for immediate use, and also the blank 
 forms for the deeds, which will contain the condi- 
 tions under which the property will be sold, as soon 
 as I return to the city, and can get these matters 
 into shape. 
 
 "Of course," I continued, as we reached the wagon, 
 "there is no occasion, for the present, to do any- 
 thing but to stake off the main street, which is noth- 
 ing more than a continuation of this road, widened 
 to sixty feet, in order to give room for sidewalks. It 
 is necessary, however, to have the plat of the whole 
 before us, in order to mark off the corners of the 
 north and south streets, which will be opened as 
 soon as parallel streets become necessary from east 
 to west. The object is not to create a halloo-balloo, 
 public sale, and the like; I have nothing to oflfer to 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 199 
 
 the general public. What we want are artisans and 
 trades people, who are more or less in harmony with 
 the people whom we see toiling yonder so faithfully. 
 We don't want sharpers here, to take from them their 
 hard earnings by any means that human wit can 
 devise, short of going to the penitentiary. By this 
 I do not mean to constitute myself their guardian; 
 the world, as I understand it, has no use for minors 
 over twenty-one years of age — but I simply mean 
 that I don't propose that this village shall be a 
 sponge, in my hands, to draw up their substance 
 while they are not looking. Nor do I mean 
 to fence them round by nationality — it is the reverse 
 of this that I propose to do. I shall make it a special 
 object to induce men, when the time comes, to set- 
 tle here who were born in this country, from parents 
 who were born here, and who possess that liberality 
 and general breadth of character which is indigenous 
 to the climate, and to the general conditions under 
 which man is produced and matured here. 
 
 "It may also be necessary to stake oflf the front 
 on this road, for a block or two south, as the main 
 travel from and to the landing will pass here until 
 the blufif is graded or cut down. You will be gov- 
 erned in that by the circumstances, as they present 
 themselves." 
 
 We talked on for some time of various matters, 
 until Conrad remarked: "See, here they come at 
 last! I wonder what has got into that man, Jochen. 
 He acts as if he was beside himself, he doesn't know 
 half the time what he is saying or doing. Just see 
 him drive. It looks almost as if there was a screw 
 loose somewhere — as he says sometimes." 
 
 "Don't be alarmed on his account, Conrad. He 
 knows remarkably well what he is doing. He is 
 selling the horses to a rich man, who doesn't care 
 what he pays for an article of that kind, so it suits 
 him," said I. 
 
 "Depend on it, he is after something. Well, they 
 are a good pair of horses, and a man is not cheated 
 who buys them. But he will have to pay for them 
 to get them out of Jochen's hands," said Conrad. 
 
 As they came up Mr. F remarked: 
 
 "We have let you wait, I expect; but as we were 
 so close to the first farm ever opened in one of our 
 deserts — as we used to hear these prairies called, 
 even as late as five years ago — I could not deny my- 
 self the satisfaction of seeing with my own eyes what 
 I have heard you talk about so persistently, Henry. 
 All I can say is, the half is not told, nor is it likely 
 to be, in the next thousand years. You have shown 
 me a new world, almost from my back window; the 
 existence of which I suspected, but had never taken 
 time to look at." 
 
 I then introduced him to Mr. Fromme, and ex- 
 plained in a few words his relation to the people of 
 the settlement, and the interest he took in procuring 
 homes for them — or the opportunity to procure 
 homes for themselves. After they had conversed for 
 some time, during which Mr. F treated the 
 
 minister with the respect that his profession com- 
 mands from every gentleman, and with the easy 
 courtesy of the man of good breeding, so readily ap- 
 preciated and so hard to practice, I interrupted them 
 by asking: 
 
 "How far did you go, Mr. F ? Did you go 
 
 all the way to the old settlement, where I found that 
 stove?" 
 
 "No, Mr. B , I did not need to go all the 
 
 way there. From what I saw yesterday at the land- 
 ing, and to-day at Mr. Kroemer's, and what looks at 
 us from every side, wherever we turn between here 
 and there, I am satisfied that the stove, and so many 
 other things that I have heard you talk about, are 
 
 not mere empty generalities — as Mr. H would 
 
 say. I have there, in Mr. H.-P 's wagon, a 
 
 whole sack full of specimens of products of Mr. 
 Kroemer's farm, that I will take home to show to 
 my wife and children, and to brother Oliver; and 
 after that, I propose to send them to our people east, 
 as products of the great American desert, gathered 
 partly with my own hand, and the rest under my 
 own eyes. I have Irish and sweet potatoes that 
 Jochen dug, and I picked up. I have turnips, beets, 
 gopher peas, cabbage, cale and tobacco, all of which 
 I gathered myself. Then I have ears of wheat, of rye, 
 oats and barley, which I plucked out of the stacks in 
 the fields. I also have carrots, parsnips, garden peas 
 and beans, without end; onions, from the garden and 
 the loft, late and early — with corn, the great staple, 
 such as I have never seen before." 
 
 "Why, Mr. F , stop! You will make a man 
 
 wild!" 
 
 "You are right, Mr. B . That is what I used 
 
 to say, when I heard you repeat the simplest prose 
 facts in the world, and regarded them as the en- 
 thusiastic exaggerations of youth and inexperience. 
 But, you will have a witness in the future, who did 
 not merely see, before he believed, but put his hand 
 on the fact, to make sure that it was one. But 
 how about our return to camp? Are you through 
 here, Henry?" 
 
 "Pardon me, Mr. F ," commenced the min- 
 ister. "We have listened to him this morning in 
 regard to his business here, and I must answer that 
 question with a decided 'no.' He has only given to 
 us a general idea, as he calls it, but to such ideas 
 one could listen always, and still say — 'no — you are 
 not through!' We would look with you at what 
 precedes, what follows, for there is no break; all is 
 of a piece." 
 
 "That is his peculiarity," said Mr. F , "and 
 
 if you can only hold him down, you will find that 
 the smallest detail has not been overlooked. The 
 trouble is, he will take it for granted, if you let him 
 alone, that it is beneath your dignity to have your 
 attention called to it — that you are long since famil- 
 iar with that at least — and you are liable to lose 
 track of him. He will take long steps, if you let 
 him, for he passes over great distances. It is no 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 pleasant ramble to follow him, but the work of an 
 athlete, in full training. If, however, you do exert 
 yourself, you are liable to be compensated at the end 
 of the journey by finding yourself upon some 
 eminence, from which new views unfold in endless 
 variety, all of them bathed with radiant light, wholly 
 new to your experience." 
 
 "Come, come, gentlemen! If you propose to fill 
 this space here with compliments, you will find that 
 you have undertaken a large contract. Good-by, 
 Mr. Fromme, I will send you the paper in a few days 
 after I reach the city. Good-by, Conrad; see your 
 daughter and let me know whether her husband 
 agrees to take the place at the landing. As to the 
 terms and conditions of the lease between him and 
 myself, you fix that, or if you prefer, you can con- 
 sult Jochen about it and he will let me know. Now, 
 good-by, and at the earliest convenience I will 
 come out again and spend a few days with you — 
 when we can attend to the dedication of the school 
 house." 
 
 With this I jumped into the wagon and we were 
 off. When we got to Mr. Pheyety's we stopped a 
 few moments to shake hands with the people. As 
 
 soon as Mr. F came up, Mr. H took his 
 
 seat and we started for camp. 
 
 This we reached in good time, and found every- 
 thing in shape, as we left it. I set to work at the 
 fire to get dinner and Jochen, Pat and Nick com- 
 menced loading the wagon for an early start to- 
 morrow morning. Mr. F showed to Mr. 
 
 H his specimen products from the Great 
 
 American Desert — "part of which that impractical 
 visionary at the fire there is endeavoring to reclaim." 
 
 Mr. H expressed regret that he had slept 
 
 so late and missed the trip to the oldest farm on the 
 prairie — as it would have been a good chance to 
 write it up. He criticised this and that product, al- 
 though, as he proved unable to tell a carrot from a 
 parsnip, his criticisms were not regarded as of much 
 
 weight. In the course of the evening Mr. F 
 
 happened to step down to the creek and hallooed: 
 
 "Henry, come here and see what is the matter with 
 the live-box!" 
 
 I stepped down and looked. 
 
 "There is nothing the matter with it, except that 
 that Dutchman, Nick, has done nothing but fish while 
 we were gone, and has the box so full that the fish 
 have not room enough, and they kick up a fuss." 
 
 "What are we to do with them?" Mr. F 
 
 asked. 
 
 "We will select what we want for ourselves and 
 friends. I will send a bunch or two to Mr. Robertson, 
 and after everybody has taken what he wants, we 
 will let the rest go." 
 
 After dinner Pat assisted me to kill and tie up 
 
 fish, while Mr. F , Mr. H , Jochen and 
 
 Nick went out to kill squirrels, or ducks, or what- 
 ever came in their way, except deer. When they 
 
 returned and were attending to their game, they tried 
 to start me on the former theme — about the preval- 
 ence of cunning and deceptive practices in nature. 
 But I refused to listen, went to our tent and com- 
 menced sketching down the occurrences of the last 
 two days. At lo o'clock I turned in. 
 
 October 21, 1856. 
 
 This morning at 8 o'clock we left camp and by 
 5 p. m. we were at the ferry. The wagons were 
 loaded and we had to drive slow. I said "good-by" 
 to Jochen and Nick at the Cahokia Bridge, shook 
 
 hands with Mr. H as the boat landed on the 
 
 wharf, and had to go home with Mr. F to tea. 
 
 Fortunately, we stopped at the foundry and I had an 
 opportunity to change my clothes; for when we got 
 
 up 'to the house, we met not only Mrs. F but 
 
 Miss Elizabeth and two other ladies, besides Mrs. 
 
 F 's sister. Little Theodore, too, was on hand, 
 
 and had ever so much to tell me about his "cooney" 
 and "Aunt Gilsey," and what they told him about 
 his deer horns, his "pussies" and his eagle, and what 
 he told them what he had seen Uncle Henry do in 
 the woods. 
 
 The ladies too were in a high mood; and Mrs. 
 F distinguished herself in describing the man- 
 ner of finding a dead deer by augury, by the flight 
 of birds. But they failed to start me on the myster- 
 ies of frontier life. Then, when Mr. F brought 
 
 up his sack of specimens into the parlor, and com- 
 menced to describe what he had seen out in the 
 prairie, I had enough to do to defend myself against 
 
 the reproach of Mrs. F , that I had reserved 
 
 the best of the trip for the men folks alone. It was 
 a pleasant evening and, as Mrs. F was con- 
 siderate enough to give us an opportunity to leave 
 at an early hour, Miss Elizabeth and I em- 
 braced it with happy hearts. We started early from 
 
 Mrs. F 's and, although she placed her carriage 
 
 at our service, we preferred to walk. This, however, 
 proved a bigger undertaking than I had anticipated. 
 It took us a long time— and when I got home I felt 
 thankful that I did not have anything to write down 
 — it was so late. 
 
 October 22, 1856. 
 Busy all day hitching up. Early this morning I 
 went and looked at my house. Found the outside 
 finished, but could not get in to see how far they 
 had got with the plastering; it was too soon in the 
 day. Came by Mr. Olff's. Found him astir; he has 
 made good progress on the coal cooking stove. I 
 gave him the data for the plat of the village. He 
 promised to make me four copies. While eating 
 
 breakfast Mr. H came in. 
 
 "I feel rather lonesome, Henry. I wish you 
 would let me have your notes to while away the 
 time. I don't want to start home for a day or two, 
 until I wear off a little of the bark and moss that I 
 have gathered in the woods." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "You don't want to take them to your room, to the 
 hotel?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, that is just what I want." 
 "And that is just what you can't have. You may 
 read here as much as you please, but they are private 
 papers, and I don't want them to go out of my room. 
 Besides, I don't see of what interest they can be 
 for you. You are looking for the news of the day; 
 and there is nothing strange in that to me. At a time 
 that is as fruitful of new things as ours is, the news 
 of the day is well worth watching. But I'm noting 
 down not the new, but the newborn — the ever re- 
 curring, the abiding, with now and then an occur- 
 rence of the kind that falls into the life of a me- 
 chanic — illustrative of that of the old — like the crop 
 of new leaves in the forest next spring. They will 
 be new, but only illustrative of the crop perishing 
 this fall. By pressing a few specimens now I will 
 be able to verify the species then — convincing myself 
 that although new, they are old." 
 
 "My interest in these papers," he retorted, "is not 
 for you to determine, or to doubt. It is true, they 
 are written from a point of view that differs from 
 the one from which I see the world; but they cer- 
 tainly do not lack the element which you suppose 
 alone capable of interesting me, that of being new. 
 If they do nothing else, they give me at least some 
 information of yourself, the life you lead, and the 
 way the world looks to you, and that is not without 
 interest to me. You say you will not let me have 
 them so that I can read at my room — how about me 
 dropping in here and reading? I reckon I can put up 
 with the room, on account of the man who lives in 
 it." 
 
 "All I have to say to that. Will, is that you are 
 more than welcome — but you are not to annoy me 
 with haggling about this or that. There are the 
 papers; get what you can out of them; but don't 
 imagine that you have to write, or to rewrite them. 
 With that you have nothing to do; nor with the 
 life of which they are the garbled chronicle. The 
 errors of thought and action that you may notice 
 are there for your benefit; but not to cackle over 
 with self-conceited quavers, and thrills of a rhetorical 
 chanticleer, that never laid an egg in his life! As 
 to the room, you see yourself how bright the sun 
 of heaven shines into it. Nor is there a palace in all 
 the world better lighted! What more do you want? 
 If you propose to get into a book, do you need 
 more than light? If your soul is housed in the 
 book, what does it know or care about the out-of- 
 doors? 
 
 "Then again, as an accessory to get into these 
 papers, this is the only room in existence. This 
 clean pine board is the desk on which they are writ- 
 ten, and when you get into them you will detect the 
 healthful scent of resin, so precious for consump- 
 tives, which it has communicated. The same scent, 
 you will observe, pervades that dry goods box, my 
 book case, and banishes even the suspicion of musti- 
 
 ness from its shelves and their contents. Then this 
 solid wooden chair, so pleasant to tired limbs! How 
 could you appreciate the celebration of the pleasures 
 of life, as the sweet after-taste of labor done, which 
 you find in these pages, if you had not seen and 
 enjoyed this seat? I don't mean the one you sit in; 
 that is not mine. That was made to rest a man 
 when he is not tired, and is quite an expensive ap- 
 paratus, as such things necessarily require considera- 
 ble contrivance — but this one, this seat, one solid 
 piece of oak!" 
 
 "Yes, I should think it would take a man to be 
 tired to appreciate sitting on a thing like that!" 
 
 "The only human beings seats are made for. Will! 
 Then, you see, there is no gliding, with noiseless 
 steps, about this room, on costly rugs and velvet 
 paddings. The heel of your shoe comes down with 
 distinct emphasis, flat upon the naked floor; no 
 slipping up on a fellow, unawares, over rhetorical 
 flimflams! Now, where could you have all these 
 helps to get into these papers but right here, in the 
 place of their birth? And yet, with all these ad- 
 vantages staring at you, nay with the very dust and 
 grime that you complain of as defacing them, in 
 easy reach of you, by the hand and shovel full, you 
 want to take them to your room, at the hotel, where 
 idlers yawn, and wonder when the time will come 
 that they can hire somebody to breathe for them — 
 it is such a drudgery, so tiresome! That is the last 
 place on earth fit to read these papers in!" 
 
 "You are not done? Why not go on! It saves me 
 the trouble of reading it all, because I will find noth- 
 ing but the same stuff anyhow. You first talk it, 
 and then write it down!" 
 
 "Come in — you see why I stop. I told you, here 
 the comer announces himself without bell or flunky 
 at the outer door!" 
 
 " 'All right, Sam! Tell Mr. F I will be down 
 
 in a moment. How is he this morning?' " 
 
 "'He looks well and isn't cross a bit!'" Sam re- 
 plies. 
 " 'All right, I will be down.' " 
 
 "So, Will, make yourself comfortable — here is an 
 extra key to the door. If you leave before I come 
 back, please lock up and take the key with you. 
 Come and go as and when you please. I have to 
 step down to the shop — by the by, are you going 
 
 to call on Mrs. F before you leave?" 
 
 "I don't know; I want to talk to you about it. I 
 will be here when you oome back." 
 
 I found Mr. F in my private shop, looking 
 
 bright and cheerful. 
 
 "I caught you napping for once, Henry! How did 
 you rest last night?" 
 
 "Excellent, although it was diflficult to get air 
 enough into my room; and that reminded me that I 
 had forgotten to tell you to open your windows be- 
 fore you retired. I was afraid you might catch cold, 
 in consequence of my neglect. But I see you look 
 like a fighting cock!" 
 
 "Yes, and I feel like one, too. I suppose you are 
 
202 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 busy to-day picking up odds and ends, and I don't 
 like to break into your arrangements — but if you find 
 time, I wish you would go up to Mr. Olff and see 
 how he is coming on with his work on the patterns. 
 I wish he would drop everything else and push them 
 as much as he can." 
 
 "That is what he has been doing during our loaf. 
 We can commence casting Monday morning, and he 
 will keep up with us. I was there this morning, be- 
 fore breakfast; and found the work way ahead!" 
 "And you were there?" 
 
 "Yes, I wanted to lay out my work for next week, 
 and had to know how far he had advanced with the 
 patterns. You know I feel an interest in that stove, 
 and want to eat a biscuit baked with Illinois coal — 
 a thing that everybody says can't be done; and on 
 which you have staked thousands of dollars, partly 
 at least on my suggestion." 
 
 "That is all right, Henry. We will not ask them 
 for contributions, if we fail. They only see what is; 
 they can't see what ought to be and, therefore, can 
 do nothing; do you think Mr. Olff could design for 
 me a hat rack, that we might cast, with appropriate 
 ornaments, to set off the horns of the bucks which 
 I killed during our hunt? I should like to surprise 
 
 Mrs. F ; and with the facilities we have for 
 
 plating, we ought to be able to get up a very hand- 
 some thing." 
 
 "Certainly we can, but we must be careful how we 
 call his attention to it. He luxuriates in work of 
 that kind. He will rather do it and live on bread 
 and water than earn an independence on work of 
 less artistic pretentions. I would suggest that we 
 have the heads carefully prepared, which will take 
 some time itself. Then, when he is through with the 
 patterns for the coal stove, we will take the heads 
 to him, for that is the only way he can give the 
 work the harmony which characterizes whatever he 
 does, and tell him what you want." 
 
 "Yes, we must wait until the heads are prepared. 
 But then I thought he might work on it at odd 
 hours, by way of rest, when he is tired of the big 
 job." 
 
 "Oh yes, Mr. F , I know how that goes and 
 
 so do you. Every man that has a spark of creative 
 ability in him is but too ready to get tired when the 
 glamor that attends the new inspiration gives place 
 to the drudgery of detail involved in the realization. 
 But without that patient drudgery, the inspiration is a 
 disembodied ghost, a nothing. The attending cir- 
 cumstances of conception, whether mental or phys- 
 ical, are pleasant and generally sought after, but the 
 subsequent labor pains everybody seeks to shirk. 
 It is not well to cater to this tendency when we 
 deal with men of his kind." 
 
 "Oh yes, that stove is too near your heart! But, 
 you are right; I know it by experience. Work of 
 this kind is not like sawing wood, that can be stop- 
 ped and recommenced at any time. We have to 
 wait for it to come to us, and it is wrong to displace 
 
 it, when once in possession of the mind. What I 
 was going to say — have you seen anything of Mr. 
 
 H ? He has not left town without seeing a 
 
 person?" 
 
 "No, I left him at my room reading when I came 
 down. He says he is going to stay and wear off 
 some of the bark and moss which he gathered In the 
 woods, and that, you know, may take him some 
 
 time. He will be around to call on Mrs. F . At 
 
 least, I got that impression." 
 
 "She inquired about him. It seems she got a de- 
 layed letter from some mutual acquaintance in the 
 east, bespeaking social attention for him. He seems 
 to be a strange fellow, not to make himself known. 
 He comes from a good family, and has no reason to 
 be ashamed of his own position." 
 
 "I know that, Mr. F ; and it is I who am to 
 
 blame, no doubt. But you know what an utter 
 stranger I am to society and its methods. I have 
 known him for years intimately, and have enjoyed 
 the hospitalities of his father's house, in Connecticut, 
 during more than one vacation, while attending col- 
 lege in New England. If I had not known him as 
 I did, he would not have been with us — I am to 
 blame. But you know how it is out here; we live 
 free and easy with everybody, and then his misfor- 
 tune, his utter prostration after the accident, made 
 
 it impossible to present him to Mrs. F any 
 
 further than as a human being who needed your as- 
 sistance. That you and she rendered, not any the 
 less effectually because he happened to be a 
 •stranger." 
 
 "You are a very strange man, Mr. B . Things 
 
 which everybody places the greatest value upon seem 
 nothing to you. Don't you know that a letter from 
 
 Mr. H , or his father, to my brother or myself, 
 
 or to any man here from Connecticut would have 
 been of the greatest service to you when you were in 
 need of assistance? The mere fact that you had been 
 a guest of their house, and that you were upon terms 
 of intimacy with the eldest son of the family, would 
 have opened to you the house of every Connecticut 
 man in the city. But, pshaw! I see how it is! I 
 admire you for it. The man of true worth will be 
 recognized wherever he goes, and this he cannot be 
 without self-reliance. I see how it is; it is all of a 
 piece. You made his acquaintance at school?" 
 
 "Yes. we belonged to the same class and became 
 rivals for its honors. Of this I knew nothing. I am 
 his senior by five years and was his superior in a 
 knowledge of the practical affairs of life. Much that 
 was formal to him was replete to me with meaning, 
 because I had experience to put into the forms. But 
 the most important advantage I possessed over him 
 was the fact that I spent my own money, the money 
 which I had earned myself, while he spent the money 
 of his father. This naturally ate up more of his 
 time, attention and exertion. The consequence was 
 that it required his utmost endeavor to maintain him- 
 self at the head of the class, where I found him when 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 203 
 
 I entered. Another consequence was that we would 
 look at every subject that came up from opposite 
 sides — if either of us knew, or imagined that he 
 knew, an opposite side. He was a brilliant declaimer, 
 and even then an elegant writer. It was necessary, 
 therefore, for me to be an awkward declaimer and 
 a rough and ready writer. To achieve distinction in 
 the first of these accomplishments, I was assisted 
 by my defective pronunciation; and as for the latter, 
 I endeavored to become ready by diligent application, 
 relying upon nature to supply the roughness at its 
 own leisure. In either mode of utterance, however, 
 I paid close attention to have something to say be- 
 fore I opened my mouth, or touched pen to paper. 
 This soon was recognized by our associates, and in 
 illustration of it, a member of the class pretended to 
 have heard a lady in the audience say — one evening 
 when we had a public discussion — on being asked to 
 go home by her friend, when I was on the point of 
 opening my reply — 'No, wait, and let us hear 'Old 
 Horse Sense,' what he has to say.' 
 
 "The rivalry was unconscious on my part, and al- 
 though far from being so on his, as he has told me 
 since, it united us in mutual respect, and I might 
 say affection, for no other reason, I suppose, than 
 that we are opposites on the theoretical side of our 
 natures. If he were to come into the room this mo- 
 ment and say, 'I saw a white dog run across the 
 street,' my mind would add — 'with black spots on it!' 
 Still, he is a thoroughly brilliant man; in physical ap- 
 pearance, as you have seen, of the noblest type, with 
 mental endowments of the highest order, as far as 
 I am able to judge; and social accomplishments that 
 made him a general favorite when a mere student. 
 He is a splendid specimen of American manhood, 
 but to see him as he is, you have to meet him out- 
 side of his antithetical relation to myself, and that 
 cannot happen when we are together." 
 
 "And are two sensible men to play bickering 
 school boys all the days of their life, because they 
 commenced it at school?" 
 
 "It seems so. I suppose if we had remained to- 
 gether, the thing would have worn itself out by the 
 weight of its own absurdity. But we have been 
 separated for years and, of course, on meeting we 
 picked up the bicker where it stopped years ago. It 
 felt so natural and besides, had all the fragrance of 
 the olden times about it." 
 
 "You will be up to tea to-morrow evening? I 
 think my wife expects you." 
 
 "Yes, I believe I promised her." 
 
 When I got back to my room I found Mr. H 
 
 still there. I told him about my conversation with 
 
 Mr. F and that he was expected to make a 
 
 call on Mrs. F . When I related our talk some- 
 what in detail he broke out into a roar of laughter. 
 
 "And Mr. F didn't know who I was all this 
 
 time? Well, I thought he treated me rather coolly. 
 His wife is related to some members of our family, 
 in some way; and someone told me on hearing that 
 
 I was going to come out here, that they would write 
 to Mary, so that I might have a place to go to. But, 
 I did not think of it. The truth is, when I got 
 here I had enough to do with you. You have delved 
 under and stretched out in so many different direct- 
 ions, it is difficult, or has been difficult for me to 
 place you. Well, but you knew who I was and 
 you did not think it necessary to inform a man like 
 Mr. F who his camp companion was to be?" 
 
 "Of course not! Didn't he tell you himself that 
 he was my guest? Was it not sufficient for him 
 that I had invited you, or permitted you to invite 
 yourself? I did not make up a party to go hunting. 
 I went out on my usual trip for recreation. Mr. 
 
 F thought it might do him good to go with 
 
 me. So did you. You are under no obligations to 
 each other. I simply introduced you as a matter of 
 form. I did not know that either of you needed the 
 pedigree of the other to the tenth generation, in 
 order to be inmates of the same camp in the woods. 
 I knew that neither of you was a pick-pocket or 
 sneak thief, and as for any quarrel that might arise, 
 I was not afraid that either of you, or both together, 
 would run me out of my own camp." 
 
 "Well, it's all right, Henry, but the joke is a good 
 one nevertheless. But it seems to me that Mrs. 
 
 F would have mentioned the letter. Well, I 
 
 suppose she would have done so if I had been at 
 myself while she was in camp." 
 
 "I don't believe that she ever received the letter, 
 until after she got home. I think I understood Mr. 
 F to say so." 
 
 "That accounts for it!" 
 
 "The truth is. Will, there is nothing more tiresome 
 to a third party who is compelled to listen than 
 when two persons recount to each other their 
 cousins, their aunts and their uncles, and then the 
 other set of uncles, aunts and cousins, down to the 
 remotest degree of kindred, with their marriages, 
 births, deaths, solvencies and insolvencies, together 
 with their physical conditions, the maimings some 
 may have sustained, and the pain suffered, enough to 
 send a shudder through the whole line clean up to 
 the speaker, who sends it thrilling into the ear of her 
 or his gossip. Of course, the subject is everlasting, 
 inexhaustible, new at every meeting, like the weather, 
 the present so unheard of condition of which usually 
 serves as a kind of preface, introduction or grace to 
 this precious mess of intellectual hash. The third 
 party, in the meantime, is invited with great polite- 
 ness to a seat at the board and feast upon the all- 
 sustaining air — redolent with exhalation. I did not 
 hanker after the position of this air-crammed party, 
 
 while you and Mr. F were dining on nothing; 
 
 and I have found no complaint, from any source, 
 that we lacked entertainment in camp." 
 
 "Now, you talk like yourself — Diogenes, without 
 his tub — the Athenian dog without his kennel. Your- 
 self, severed from your kindred in early youth, like 
 a limb cut from the parent tree, you lie by the way- 
 
204 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 side of life, a withered, dried up brush, destitute 
 alike of the foliage, flower and fruit that constitute 
 the graces of social existence. But what is such an 
 object fit for? At best, its momentary flicker kindles 
 the flame of a hearth not Its own; at best, for the 
 ditch, to rot into decomposition for future vegetation. 
 You overlook the thread of kindly feeling that binds 
 together the individuals into these social units, which 
 give interest to the gossips so irksome to you, and 
 yet it is these threads, attenuated into invisible fibers 
 at the extremities, that render coalescence between 
 these units possible into higher units, into civil so- 
 ciety, and through it into the state. As the veins 
 and arteries in the animal organism have to become 
 imperceptible fibers before the blood can pass from 
 one to the other, and thus unite the physical body 
 into one whole, so these threads of kindred blood 
 underlie the possibility of civil society and state. 
 And this I gather from your own more or less in- 
 coherent lucubrations upon these subjects. Why 
 then — " 
 
 "Never mind the 'why then.' It is easily enough 
 anticipated. But, the real 'whv then' is, that granting 
 what you say to be true, does that change this other 
 truth, that the gossip in question is of no earthly 
 interest to a third party? And you will observe, 
 Will, that was all I maintained and all that was and 
 is necessary to justify me in not mentioning your 
 
 personal identity to Mr. F before we went, or 
 
 after we got into camp." 
 
 "Oh, of course, the old trick! But tell me, when 
 would it be appropriate for me to call on Mrs. 
 
 F ? They have different rules about this in 
 
 different places." 
 
 "I don't know. I go when I have business of 
 mutual importance. Time cuts no figure with me. 
 Noon or night doesn't count, so the business de- 
 mands attention; and without that I don't go at all." 
 
 After Mr. H left, I set to work on my notes 
 
 in earnest. Have spent the balance of the day and 
 the whole evening at my desk. 
 
 October 23, 1856. 
 
 Dined with Miss Elizabeth, after working all morn- 
 ing on my notes, the material for which accumulated 
 during my stay in camp. After dinner I could not 
 resist the temptation of a long walk with my dear 
 one; although I am pressed for time from every side 
 It is strange how separation from those we love 
 draws the tie that unites us closer. This alone, if 
 we had no other proof, tinges our emotions with a 
 suspicion of the evanescent, indicates their physical 
 origin, however they may be ennobled by reason. 
 
 "It is a long time, Henry, since you promised 
 that you would assist me to learn something. I 
 have wanted to remind you of it several times, but 
 you are always so busy, and the time we have to be 
 together is so short, that I forget everything else 
 when I am with you," said Eliza, as we had seated 
 ourselves under a black-jack tree, out in the suburbs, 
 at some distance from any houses. 
 
 "Have you any books at home that might assist 
 us?" I asked. 
 
 "Yes, we have Robert Burns and Scott's novels, 
 and a book that belongs to my uncle in New York, 
 which we brought with us by mistake. I think it is 
 called Locke's 'Essay on Human Understanding.'" 
 
 "Yes, these are good books of their kind. Scott's 
 books are very good if we have more time than we 
 know what to do with — they are so interesting!" 
 
 "But, I don't find any time to read them." 
 
 "That is the trouble with me, too." 
 
 "But Robert Burns! I like him. The pieces are 
 short, and I can read them between times. I think 
 the 'Cotter's Saturday Night' is beautiful." 
 
 "Yes, and how about 'Scots Who Have With Wal- 
 lace Bled"." 
 
 "That is grand! I like it. But it makes the cold 
 chills run over me sometimes!" 
 
 "Then, 'Holy Willie's Prayer.' How do you like 
 that?" 
 
 "I don't like it; I think Willie is a hypocrite! 
 The idea of having little babes in hell." 
 
 "'To gnash their gums; to weep and wail in a- 
 burning lake; 
 
 " 'Where damned devils roar and yell, chained to a 
 stake.' 
 
 "You don't believe that, do you? I know you 
 don't!" 
 
 "No, dearest! I don't believe poetic language to 
 be the same as prose, and metaphors to be thoughts, 
 but only hints, and imperfect ways of expressing 
 thoughts. But, the piece is excellent for what it was 
 intended to be by the poet. He intended that you, 
 when you read it should dislike Willie; and an 
 expression of any kind, whether in prose or poetry, 
 in music, painting, sculpture — for all these are but 
 different ways of one human mind expressing itself 
 to another — is excellent in proportion as it accomp- 
 lishes the purpose in view. There is a higher ex- 
 cellence, an excellence that depends upon the value 
 of the thing expressed. But that is not so readily 
 tested; and is itself more or less dependent upon the 
 first, for however great this second excellence may 
 be, it depends upon the first to become effective. 
 Now, in this way of looking at a poem, an essay, or 
 a work of art, we distinguish between these two 
 kinds of excellence. I mean, you do. You say the 
 'Cotter's Saturday Night' is beautiful. You like 
 it; but you don't like 'Holy Willie's Prayer' because 
 Willie is a hypocrite. In other words, you don't 
 like the poem because you don't like the character 
 of the man portrayed; and you like the other be- 
 cause the happiness that springs from contentment in 
 the humblest of circumstances is dear to your heart. 
 Both expressions have accomplished what they were 
 intended to accomplish and are of equal excellence; 
 you like the one and dislike the other." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, but I don't like to dislike, to hate 
 anything! Why should I read something that I have 
 to dislike?" 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 205 
 
 "That is a very hard question to answer, dearest, 
 and wholly unanswerable if we only read for our 
 likes and dislikes. But, I suspect that the chief use 
 of reading is to inform ourselves in regard to what 
 human life has been in the past, in order that we 
 may meet the present with more resources. If we 
 look at it in that light, then we have to disregard 
 our likes and dislikes, and simply be guided by our 
 desire to know; and for that mill no grist comes 
 amiss. Even 'Holy Willie' becomes important as an 
 illustration of how we may be led away from every 
 instinct of our nature by formalism run to seed. 
 Your heart panting against my bosom, with the in- 
 stincts of motherhood, so sweet and dear because 
 freighted with the destiny of our race, rebels with 
 utter horror and loathing against the everlasting 
 conditions of that race when embodied in forms of 
 expressions that have become obsolete, that have 
 been forsaken by the living spirit, their soul and 
 meaning, and jibber with fantastic gesticulations in 
 the benighted chamber of superstition and ignor- 
 ance. 'To gnash their gums, to weep and wail' — 
 yes, sweetest, have you never seen and heard it? 
 Even in that state you and I have been. In that 
 more than burning lake of ignorance, helplessness, 
 infancy; and not for any good or ill we had done, 
 either! 'Where damned devils roar and yell, chained 
 to a stake,' fortunately! Who has time to enumer- 
 ate them all — I mean the devils. For every want is 
 a negative, a devil, and fortunately chained to a 
 stake, driven deep into the mother's, the father's 
 heart. They may jerk and strain at the chain. The 
 stake holds, and with their heart's blood the parents 
 satiate the raving crew, rather than permit them to 
 reach their helpless little one. It is this, the ever- 
 lasting condition of our race, that was the soul of the 
 myth at its birth — this, the natural condition, and the 
 necessity to be redeemed thence, to be redeemed 
 from beasthood to manhood, through the process 
 of culture, of both the will and the intellect — this 
 constituted the meaning of the similitude. But this 
 meaning lives, for it is true. It lives to make faces 
 at its own garment, the symbol, the expression, 
 when that symbol gyrates about in the utter inane, as 
 if it was something on its own hook — something be- 
 yond the ghost of a symbol." 
 
 "And you say the poet meant this?" 
 
 "Yes, the poet is the fellow who makes faces at 
 the symbol, that has forgotten its own meaning, and 
 struts about on its own hook, the shadow of nothing." 
 
 "But, did he know what the symbol meant origi- 
 nally?" 
 
 "Not likely. I have not come across any indica- 
 tions of it in his works. Then, he died young and 
 it is not usual that we find an appreciation of such 
 things among young people. They generally dislike 
 the meaning of such symbols, as much as the 
 symbols themselves; and when they can slip up on 
 one of them, that has become utterly empty and ab- 
 surd, they are tickled and make faces at it. They 
 
 don't take the trouble to see whether it ever had a 
 meaning, mucli less whether that meaning is true 
 now; but are happy, for a time, in the discovery of 
 a nothing that pretends to be something. But the 
 point of importance for us to notice is the distinction 
 which we made between the form and the meaning of 
 the two poems in the beginning. You like the one 
 and dislike the other — that is, you like the 'Cotter' 
 and dislike 'Holy Willie' and as this is what the poet 
 wanted you to do, his form, the expiession of his 
 thoughts, was successful in both poems, and your 
 like and dislike are based upon the meaning. And 
 now we see that these two things differ so much 
 that the form may become entirely obsolete, and 
 the meaning remain true. This is very important if 
 we want to avail ourselves of the thought and ex- 
 perience of those who have preceded us; for instead 
 of casting aside as rubbish much that is transmitted 
 to us, we will find that it is corroborative, if not 
 suggestive, of the truths that have received new read- 
 ings in more modern dialects. 
 
 "But, what about the other book that is a part of 
 your collection, Mr. Locke, on the 'Human Under- 
 standing'?" 
 
 "I don't know; I can't read it; it is all Greek to 
 me, as they say." 
 
 "Yes, that is likely. You are not accustomed to 
 reading books of that kind. Very few ladies are; 
 otherwise, it is very easy to understand. All he at- 
 tempts to do is to show how we come to call a horse 
 an animal; a goose a bird, a man a mammal, and the 
 like. Then, where we pick up such ideas — as he 
 calls them — as cause and effect, etc. That is, he 
 endeavors to find out the origin of general terms. I 
 read the book years ago, and remember that I felt 
 disappointed when I got through. I thought from 
 the title that he was going to show us how man, the 
 human being, stands under, as it were, behind the 
 things and objects that present themselves to our 
 intelligence, and is thus called the understanding, the 
 standing under of the univer.se — its underpinning, so 
 to speak. But I got the impression from the answer 
 which he gives to the question as to the origin of 
 general ideas, that he used the words of the title 
 in a different sense from what they conveyed, or sug- 
 gested, to my mind. He regards the sensitive appa- 
 ratus of considerable power — sufficient, at least, to 
 take the pictures of objects as they pass before 
 us, with their natural colors, shapes, etc. These 
 pictures being brought in by the photographer, in a 
 confused heap, as accident presents the objects be- 
 fore the instrument, the understanding sets to work 
 to arrange them in pigeon holes, which it has pre- 
 pared for that purpose. It arranges the blue with the 
 blue, the gray with the gray, and so on through the 
 various shades of color. In this operation, for the 
 time being, it pays no attention to the shape, size, 
 heft, taste, sound or any other characteristic or 
 quality of the pictures, except their color. The 
 picture is blue and therefore it is put into the pigeon 
 
206 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 hole labelled 'blue,' and this label the understanding 
 adopted from the pictures themselves, from noticing 
 a great many of that color in the pile. Then it 
 notices also that some of the pictures represent 
 things that are alive, and others that are not. After 
 a while it notices further that all the pictures repre- 
 sent objects that are either dead or alive. So it 
 makes two large pigeon holes, each of which it 
 subdivides into as many smaller ones as it finds 
 necessary, to store and arrange the mass of pictures 
 on hand. Then, taking its position at or near the 
 door, it orders to the right, or to the left, as the case 
 may be. If the thing represented is alive it goes to 
 one side, if dead it goes to the other, where they are 
 stored away, each in its appropriate pigeon hole, ac- 
 cording to its color, size, weight, etc., just as you see 
 the goods are arranged in a general store — the slip- 
 pers with slippers, shoes with shoes, boots with 
 boots, and the whole of them together in the boot 
 and shoe department, on one side; the dry goods on 
 another, the notions up and the hardware down 
 stairs, and all under the same roof, in one store. 
 
 "Of course, if the photographer doesn't bring in 
 pictures, there are none to store, and 'human under- 
 standing' — which he uses as synonymous with mind 
 itself — has nothing to classify, much less to invent 
 labels for any pigeon holes. For these it can only 
 construct, compound, or manufacture out of the 
 simple characteristics, qualities or quantities which 
 it has noted on the pictures. 
 
 "Now the immense value which mankind derives 
 from such a faculty is obvious. Just imagine the 
 contents of the store I referred to, just now, all 
 piled in one heap, without order or arrangement, and 
 you go in and ask for a paper of pins! Think of the 
 labor involved to find them. For, you see, they may 
 be at the bottom of the heap, or on the top, on one 
 side or the other; anywhere, nobody can tell." 
 
 "It would be hunting a needle in a haystack, sure 
 enough!" 
 
 "Just so, and if anything, worse! Indeed, the value 
 is so great, and at the same time so obvious, that it 
 was a long time before the contemplation of it 
 would permit mankind to think of anything else. 
 The question that had bothered them, as to the 
 origin of the things that Mr. Locke said 'were the 
 origin of general ideas,' was forgotten in looking at 
 one of the consequences. That is to say, Mr. Locke 
 says, 'The things which we hear, see, feel, smell and 
 taste are the origin of our general ideas.' Well, 
 what of it? The question is, what is the origin of 
 the things you hear, see, taste, smell and feel, to- 
 gether with the understanding that arranges or classi- 
 fies what you hear, see, taste, smell and feel, and the 
 knowing back of all this apparatus, which employs 
 it as its implements and means for its own ends — 
 what, in other words, is the origin, significance and 
 meaning of the objects that present themselves to 
 my intelligence, together with that intelligence itself? 
 This question, which had occupied the attention of the 
 
 thinking portion of the world for some thousands of 
 years, was forgotten for a time by the discovery of 
 Mr. Locke that mankind had an understanding, as 
 was satisfactorily proved by any store of any size 
 in London town. 
 
 "I was somewhat afraid to refer to this subject, 
 when I met you, because I did not know but that 
 you had read some of the writers who are still in 
 dumb amazement over this stupendous discovery; 
 because you might have thought me but ill informed 
 when I told you, some time ago, that I knew of no 
 author in the English language who could be of any 
 assistance to you in finding an answer, however im- 
 perfect, to the question you asked me. But with the 
 explanation that I have tried to give, I hope you 
 will not misunderstand that answer. 
 
 "I also set to work, shortly after our conversation, 
 and translated a book out of the German language, 
 in which an attempt is made to answer a part of the 
 question you ask, and it is ready for your use at any 
 time, as soon as I can have it bound for you. I 
 would like to have it printed, too, but it costs too 
 much, and we have to get along with it in manu- 
 script. I have written it as well as I could on your 
 account." 
 
 "That is so kind of you. I shall like it the better 
 because it is not printed; I shall have your hand- 
 writing before me when I read it, and that will be 
 so nice! It will remind me — " 
 
 "Yes! I know. But, dearest, let me tell you. The 
 man who wrote the book which I have translated 
 for you was in great earnest to see and express the 
 truth, and nothing but that. He leaves you precious 
 little time to be reminded of anything outside of the 
 thought he unfolds; and if he catches you philander- 
 ing about, with your thoughts elsewhere, he will slip 
 away and leave you sitting there, wondering what 
 has become of him. He is the most jealous man of 
 the reader's attention that I have come across. The 
 mind can't as much as bat its eye, but he is out of 
 sight. Then, what makes things worse is the cir- 
 cumstance that his books are not half-written — I 
 mean, we only have the skeleton, the dry bones, the 
 notes of his lectures — the heads of his themes, which 
 he elaborated down to the ready comprehension of 
 his hearers by oral amplification in the lecture room. 
 You will have no opportunity, therefore, while you 
 are studying the work to think how nice it feels to 
 press the hand that drew the characters on the paper 
 before you. I don't say this, dearest, because I 
 want to be cheated out of the pleasure of returning 
 every pressure of your hand — even the imaginary 
 ones — but by way of kindly warning, if you under- 
 take the study. 
 
 "Another thing which we must consider is, that the 
 work which I shall bring you is a slice, and not the 
 whole cake. It doesn't explain how it happens that 
 there is such a thing as 'knowing' in the universe. 
 That question is treated in what precedes the part 
 I have translated for you. All that this show« is. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 207 
 
 how the knowing is realized into actual fact — what 
 functions, faculties, powers, activities — what imple- 
 ments it employs to fill itself with truth, to be a 
 true knowing, a knowing of truth. I cut this slice 
 for you because I did not know at the time but 
 that you had read more than what you have, and 
 did not know but that you might entertain some 
 misgivings as to the ability of a mere human being 
 being able to know at all. For it has dawned upon 
 some people that if there is nothing to the human 
 mind but what Mr. Locke saw of it, it doesn't amount 
 to much — to nothing, in fact, so far as a knowing 
 of truth is concerned; and they have gone to work 
 to persuade people of this, and to prove it by logic! 
 Yes, in rhyme, prose and doggerel, or hybrid between 
 the two. Now, this work doesn't dispute that hypoth- 
 esis at all, but shows by simple demonstration that 
 Mr. Locke, with all his successors, repeaters, ampli- 
 fiers and magnifiers, did not see it all — did see only 
 one small part, and mistook that for the whole, be- 
 cause it was all he saw! That being the case, I 
 chose this as a beginning, because I did not know 
 but that it might suit you best, on account of the 
 public rumors that may have reached your ears, and 
 filled you with discouraging reports, as to your own 
 ability. But, it is only a slice, and not a whole cake — 
 that is, it answers only a part of the question that I 
 stated a little while ago, and it will take the whole 
 system of thought, of which it forms a part, to 
 answer the whole question. Another thing is, that 
 the answer it gives lacks an element which it can 
 only receive from the whole system — namely, its 
 necessity. It is true you may not miss it, and you 
 would miss it less, perhaps, if you had read more; 
 for it is one of those things hardly ever thought of 
 by authors upon such subjects. They forget to 
 exhibit to their readers the inherent necessity of the 
 theme treated, together with the necessity, step by 
 step, of the explanation of its details; so that a per- 
 son who is a reader of such books gradually gets 
 into the habit of not looking for it, and therefore 
 doesn't miss it. But you are a free-born American 
 citizen; you are not under any obligations to believe 
 what this man says, or that one writes, unless he can 
 induce your free, untrammeled conviction to bear 
 him witness." 
 
 In reading over this note, I am not satisfied with 
 it. It is not a photograph of the scene; and I hate 
 to garble occurrences. But what can I do? There 
 are many things in this world, both in being and 
 occurrences, which are of such a slight, evenness of 
 character, that paper is too coarse, too vulgar to 
 receive them. 
 
 We had talked, not to say fooled away the time 
 at such a rate that we had none to spare to reach 
 
 Mrs. F 's tea table at the appointed hour. Still, 
 
 we were not the only guests that were rather late, 
 for we had already talked for some time, and were 
 
 just sitting down when Mr. H came in. It 
 
 was plain from the reception he received that he 
 
 had called yesterday, and was filling an appointment. 
 After he was introduced to Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. 
 
 F placed him at her right side, while Miss 
 
 Robertson occupied her usual seat at the left of the 
 hostess. I felt very much entertained with the easy 
 manner, the graceful turns of table chat which Mr. 
 
 H developed in the presence of the ladies. He 
 
 was at once the center of attraction; which he took 
 as a matter of course, but not with an obtrusive air. 
 Far from that; he was insinuating, yet self-conscious, 
 fully aware of his power to please. But the beautiful 
 eyes opposite, to the full effects of which the hostess 
 had subjected the guest of the evening, obviously 
 with malice of forethought, soon told on him. Before 
 we arose from the table, all the easy self-complacence 
 was gone, and he hastened to Miss Elizabeth's side, a 
 brilliant, yet more than submissive adorer. It took 
 
 all Mrs. F 's address to keep him a participant 
 
 in the general conversation. She branched off into 
 the scenes which she had witnessed in the forest, and 
 persistently broke in on him for corroboration, cor- 
 rection or amplification. But with all her vigilance, 
 she was not able to prevent him from making an 
 egregious ass of himself, as he told me afterward, 
 during the course of the evening. 
 
 "What do you think I have done this evening, 
 Henry," he inquired, as we happened to meet at the 
 window by ourselves. 
 
 "Enjoyed yourself with the ladies, I hope, as your 
 age, accomplishments and position entitle you to." 
 
 "Yes, I have been making love to a lady whom I 
 forced, with my impertinent attention, to state to me, 
 with the frankness and an air of pride that spoke the 
 overflowing fullness of her heart, that she is your 
 
 betrothed. You are nice ones, you and Mrs. F . 
 
 That woman is as full of mischief as an egg is of 
 meat. She never whispered, never hinted a syllable 
 of the state of affairs, and allowed me to compromise 
 myself in the eyes of a man whose respect and esteem 
 I value above my life. Henry, let me congratulate 
 you for the second time. The future certainly 
 promises to reward you from every side with a liberal 
 hand for the untiring toil of the past. Your pros- 
 pects economically are flattering, but what are they 
 to the hand and heart of a woman like Miss Rob- 
 ertson?" 
 
 "Why, Will, you surprise me with your talk. Don't 
 you know that nothing is more pleasing to a lover 
 than that the woman of his heart should be admired 
 by all the world? As for you compromising your- 
 self in my respect by any attention you could pay 
 to Miss Robertson — that is utterly impossible. I 
 
 know Mrs. F well enough to know that she 
 
 would not tell you that Miss Robertson and myself 
 are engaged. That would not be like her. She likes 
 to create innocent complications, in order to have 
 her fun, although she would be the last person to be 
 instrumental in producing serious ones. I appre- 
 ciated her game from the start, and the way to get 
 even is not to give her the satisfaction of knowing 
 
208 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 that she was successful. I will see Miss Elizabeth; 
 and don't you say a word. If you do, you will never 
 hear the last of it. You just go on as if you knew of 
 nothing!" 
 
 "Pshaw! Don't you see? She has pumped Miss 
 Robertson and knows everything!" 
 
 "It looks that way," said I, as I saw the two ladies 
 together, sharing their triumph more by looks than 
 
 by words. As we returned to our seats, Mrs. F 
 
 asked: 
 
 "What's the matter with you, Mr. B ? Has 
 
 anything happened? You are so still to-night." 
 
 'No, nothing that I know of. But, you know, I 
 am not a conversationalist. I either talk too much or 
 too little; and then, this is the evening of my last 
 holiday. To-morrow school commences — I mean 
 work." 
 
 "That is nothing to you; that is what you like. It 
 must be something else. When will your house be 
 finished?" 
 
 "In the course of a month, I think; although I 
 have not been in it, or seen the builder, and don't 
 know the exact time. The contract calls for Decem- 
 ber I. Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing; we didn't know but we might have a 
 chance to give you a house warming — I mean, we 
 ladies. But then, you know, we are so fickle, especial- 
 ly when some of us are young." 
 
 "Yes, and when the young ones are led by old 
 coquettes, there is no telling what they may do! At 
 least, it is not safe to make engagements with them 
 a whole month ahead; and it will be a whole month 
 yet before the house is finished." 
 
 "Well, well! Anything but a jealous husband! I 
 wouldn't marry a man of a jealous disposition if he 
 had the front of Jove and the form of Apollo!" 
 
 "Of course you wouldn't. There is a law against 
 bigamy, in this state!" 
 
 "I mean, if I were young and unmarried — of 
 course!" 
 
 "Don't listen to her," said Mr. F . "If she 
 
 were young and unmarried to-day she would do as 
 she did before — take what she could get!" 
 
 "Yes, if the get was you!" 
 
 "Well, I don't know much about these things — 
 anything from experience — but I have always felt 
 that I would like to marry the most frivolous, in- 
 constant woman that I could find." 
 
 "And why so, Mr. H ?" asked Miss Robertson. 
 
 "I have always liked to court ladies, ever since I 
 was a well grown boy. This habit has grown on me 
 so that I like it better than any other occupation. 
 And, sometimes, when I picture to myself how it 
 will be when I am married, I say, nothing will do 
 for me but the most inconstant flirt in creation — 
 one that I have to win every day, between breakfast 
 and tea, or my occupation, the fun of my life, will 
 be gone." 
 
 "And what do you think of that, Miss Robertson?" 
 asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "T would as soon think of marrying a weather-cock 
 as to marry such a man!" was the answer. 
 
 "And you would not like to be courted by the man 
 you love?" asked Mrs. F . 
 
 "Why should he court me, when he devotes his 
 whole life, every thought and exertion, day and night, 
 to my comfort and well-being? I think the least 
 that the woman could do would be to conduct herself 
 in such a manner that he would feel assured of her 
 whole affection, without any cajolery on his part; and 
 this she will do if she loves him, without any special 
 eifort," was the answer. 
 
 "Bravo, Miss Robertson. You have learned that 
 from my wife, if your own heart has not taught it to 
 you!" said Mr. F . 
 
 "A complete waterhaul, Mrs. F ! You'll have 
 
 to try another cast! Not a crab, chub or minnow 
 is squirming at your feet," said I. 
 
 "You are the most prosaic, matter-of-fact set! 
 You are worse than wet straw to kindle into a little 
 sprightliness, into a sparkle of fun! Yes, let Theo- 
 dore come in. There will be no peace until he sees 
 
 Mr. B ," she said to her servant, and a moment 
 
 after my little friend came with a hop, skip and a 
 jump into my arms. 
 
 "Can you tell me, Mr. H , why it is that every 
 
 child that comes near that man — excuse me, I meant 
 
 to say Mr. B , clings to him? Mr. H.-P 
 
 told me the other day that he has literally stolen the 
 affection of both of his children, a little boy and 
 girl; and that, too, when the boy is so shy and bash- 
 ful that he will hide from strangers. Can you ac- 
 count for it?" Mrs. F continued. 
 
 "Really, Mrs. F , I can not; but I can bear 
 
 witness to the fact, for I've seen it in your own 
 family. My little brother and sister were both in 
 love with him. I brought him a letter from both — I 
 meant to say, sister would have written to him, too, 
 only she is a little too old to be a child, and a little 
 too young to be a woman. I suppose that is a pecu- 
 liarity that some people have. I've seen others that 
 attracted children, although perhaps not to the same 
 extent," answered Mr. H . 
 
 "Why not ask me if you wish to know, or need to 
 be told? I think, however, you are the last person 
 who needs instruction in that mystery," I remarked 
 to Mrs. F . 
 
 "But tell us, Mr. B , because I should like to 
 
 know, too," said Mr. F . 
 
 "The mystery is, that a child's heart is without 
 guile, because without experience. You step before 
 it as you step before a mirror of perfect smoothness. 
 It receives and gives back your image with veracity. 
 You love a child truly — pretense, cajolery doesn't 
 count — and a child will love you in return. Any man 
 can deceive a young woman of sixteen or eighteen in 
 regard to the state of his affections toward her, but 
 he will never deceive her sister, two or three years 
 older. The reason is, the young lady has been there 
 herself, but her sister has not. I was separated from 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 209 
 
 the objects of my affection, my family, when a mere 
 youth — cast abroad into the wide world with noth- 
 ing to love. When I met a child, robed in truth, 
 innocence and loveliness, it was to me lovely indeed. 
 My heart grasped it, and the little one always re- 
 turned my love. What mystery is there in all that, 
 e.xcept, perhaps, that those who live in Heaven all 
 the days of their life are apt to run around inquiring 
 the road to Paradise." 
 
 "But don't you indulge them too much," asked 
 
 Mrs. F . 
 
 "No, pardon me. I heard my mother say that she 
 broke my brother of a very disagreeable habit, which 
 she had failed to do with every means in her power, 
 and he only stayed with us two months that year," 
 
 said Mr. H . 
 
 "You cannot indulge a child," said I, "and retain 
 its affections. But there is one thing I noticed early 
 about children, and that was that as soon as the 
 little one commences to toddle, if you place it near, 
 or permit it to be about the lowest step of a stairway, 
 it will try to climb up to the next one. No matter 
 what inducements you may hold out to it to divert 
 it from its purpose, it will try to reach the next 
 step. This observation struck me as symbolical of 
 the inherent nature of childhood. The child wants 
 to be a boy, the boy a youth, the youth a man. I 
 don't forget this in my contact with my little ones, 
 and I soon reap their gratitude, in addition to their 
 affection. 
 
 "But here we go again! You must excuse me, Mrs. 
 F . I promised myself to be home early to- 
 night, and I am in a fair way of forgetting myself." 
 After the usual compliments, we bade "good-night" 
 and started for home. Miss Elizabeth and I had a 
 pleasant walk, with a good deal of amusement at the 
 
 conduct of Mr. H and the mischief-loving 
 
 propensity of Mrs. F . 
 
 "You know what she told me, Henry?" asked Miss 
 Elizabeth. 
 
 "No, dearest, and I could hardly guess." 
 
 "She said to me, you are a little goose! Why 
 
 didn't you flirt with Mr. H , just to find out 
 
 how much Mr. B cares for you!" 
 
 "And what did you answer her?" I asked. 
 
 "I told her," said Miss Elizabeth, "I know Mr. 
 
 B loves me. I was pleased with the attention 
 
 Mr. H showed to me, because I thought it was 
 
 on account of Mr. B and my relation to him. 
 
 I supposed, of course, that you had told him of that, 
 until I found out that you had not, and then I told 
 him myself! 'You did,' she asked, in a tone as if I 
 had committed some unpardonable sin against the 
 rules of propriety! 'Yes,' said I. 'All the attentions 
 which I desire from gentlemen are such as they see 
 fit to pay me not as Miss Robertson, but as what I 
 
 am, the betrothed of Mr. B , the man I love. 
 
 If they don't know this, they are entitled to know it, 
 and if there is nobody else to inform them, I don't 
 see why I should not myself, as I know the facts 
 better than anybody else.' " 
 
 "'But to a stranger! Just think child!' she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " 'AH men are alike to me except Mr. B ,' I 
 
 told her." 
 
 I reached home in time for two whole hours of 
 
 work. 
 
 October 24, 1856. 
 Commenced work this morning on the new pat- 
 terns. Drew some money and found that Mr. 
 
 F had directed that my wages be paid me the 
 
 same as if I had not been on a loaf for two whole 
 weeks — a handsome way of saying — "much obliged 
 
 to you, Mr. B , for the trip." Early in the day 
 
 Mr. W , the foreman, called, boiling over with 
 
 thanks and expressions of obligations for the present 
 of game I sent him — a saddle of venison, a turkey, 
 three brace of ducks and two bunches of fish. He 
 also expressed great pleasure at the health and good 
 
 humor of Mr. F since his return. 
 
 "He is a new man, Mr. B ; and I tell you he 
 
 needed it and so did we. It is mighty trying, some- 
 times, to do business with a man who is not at him- 
 self. Nothing suits, nothing pleases him, and a per- 
 son gets tired without any compensation for his best 
 work beyond the mere dollars and cents on Monday 
 morning. We all like to have the boss's 'well done' 
 in addition, if not expressed in so many words, at 
 least implied in his manner of meeting us." 
 
 Also received a note from Mr. Olff, couched in 
 very polite phrase, thanking me for a similar present 
 — not as extensive, but more select — as I have 
 noticed that he is not a great eater, but choice in 
 his dishes. The canvas-backs seem to have found a 
 weak spot. 
 
 On returning from the shop this evening, I found 
 
 Mr. H busy reading. Had a long story to 
 
 tell about his suffering at the hands of Mrs. F , 
 
 after Miss Elizabeth and myself had left last night; 
 and how Mr. F himself enjoyed it. 
 
 "Yes, they roasted me well! But tell me, Henry, 
 how is this? These people live with comfort, with 
 the evidence of wealth and luxury about them, that 
 you find scarcely equaled in the oldest established 
 families in the east. Yet, if I remember rightly, 
 they left there, not so long ago either, with com- 
 paratively speaking humble means." 
 
 "That is a mistake, Mr. H . They were in 
 
 possession of extraordinary means when they came 
 here, only they carried them concealed, where the 
 people at large did not see them — in their heads and 
 hearts, instead of in their pockets and on their backs. 
 They came with a perfect Connecticut outfit of brain 
 and muscle, and that, transplanted into the center of 
 the Mississippi watershed, an area, the equal of 
 which is not to be found on the globe, when fertility 
 and extent are considered — transplanted into it, while 
 this area is in its virgin condition, beckoning man to 
 its arms with all the allurements of unlimited re- 
 sources to supply his every want — transplanted into 
 this ground, at such a time, is it any wonder that the 
 shrub, dwarfed by contiguity in its native soil, 
 
210 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 should rear its head aloft into the sky, extend and 
 load its branches with foilage, fruit and flower, 
 worthy of the parent seed! There is more in this 
 figure than mere rhetoric. You remember, Aristotle 
 defines the vegetable as the nutritive soul, and recog- 
 nizes it as the generic for the animal and human 
 soul — that is to say, the animal is the vegetable with 
 the addition of sensitivity, and man is both, with the 
 addition of consciousness." 
 
 "Now, Henry, where are you going? What in the 
 world did Aristotle know about Connecticut and its 
 people?" 
 
 "I think, a great deal more than they know about 
 him, and if Connecticut and its people knew as much 
 about Aristotle as he knew about them, they would 
 know a great deal more about themselves than they 
 do now! But, I was going to say, that whatever we 
 may think about the Aristotelian view, we are bound 
 to recognize the fact that man, in his development — 
 I speak of man generically — is almost as dependent 
 upon his surroundings as the plant itself. You place 
 either in a pot, with a lid on, with barely sufficient 
 access to air to sustain life, and neither develops 
 into generic proportions. But take them out of the 
 pot, whether that pot was made in New England or 
 old, in England, or on the Continent, before the 
 angels had a land, cuts no figure — place them into the 
 free air and sunlight of heaven, and then see! All 
 the deprivations, the cramped condition, the nig- 
 gardly supply of means, have only sharpened the 
 appetite, encouraged the organs of digestion — acted, 
 in fact, like a dam, to collect together a mass, a force, 
 which, the dam removed, sweeps with irresistible 
 power on to its destiny." 
 
 "And what is that!" 
 
 "Individually, fortune and prosperity; nationally, 
 the founding of an empire that will make the world 
 gaze with wonder!" 
 
 "Well, Henry, when you have relieved your mind 
 of these generalities that coruscate about in figures 
 and throbs, gathered from heaven, earth and what 
 is under the earth, can you answer me the simple 
 
 question which I asked, how did Mr. F manage 
 
 to get control of the wealth which he has accumu- 
 lated in the short time, not exceeding ten years, that 
 he has been out here in the west?" 
 
 "Oh, I see; you want a specific instance. You 
 ask me how did this stone come here! I answer, 
 it rolled here in accordance with the law of gravita- 
 tion. That is not satisfactory. You want to see the 
 individual stone rotate before your eyes. All right! 
 
 Mr. F is a Connecticut Yankee by birth and 
 
 derivation. The appellation applied to his state — 
 'Nutmeg State' — applies to him. He is a nutmeg 
 Yankee — not in the scurrilous sense of ingenuity ap- 
 plied to knavery — but ingenuity applied to its legiti- 
 mate end, of spying out, contriving, inventing su- 
 perior methods and means of accomplishing the 
 task of human industry. With this endowment he 
 came here and located a shop, in which he makes the 
 articles which his ingenuity contrives, at a place 
 
 which, if you take it as a center, and draw radii in 
 every direction, possesses the peculiarity that every 
 mile that you go away from that center, on any one 
 of these radii, you add a mile all around^ that center 
 of the most productive soil on the continent. This 
 soil is attracting the population of the world, and 
 that population is his customer. Now, it is a mere 
 mathematical proposition, that you can reach a 
 greater area in the plane of a circle from the center, 
 with the same amount of travel, than from any 
 other point in that area. This proposition is so 
 simple that the common spider, that opens its busi- 
 ness stand, spreads its web before an available 
 opening, knows that it can reach every part of the 
 net quicker from the center than from an}' other 
 point, and therefore selects that position to await the 
 call of any customer that may require instantaneous 
 attention." 
 
 "Do you think they learned this out of Euclid?" 
 
 "It never occurred to me. Will, but they are great 
 frequenters of the class rooms of our colleges, and 
 there is no telling what they may have picked up — - 
 seeing what so many two-legged insects carry away 
 from there. Upon the whole, however, I think it 
 more likely that Euclid's masters received instruc- 
 tions from the spiders than the spiders from 
 Euclid's disciples. I think that is the more likely 
 derivation, for while we find the rudiments, the 
 obscure beginnings, or what looks like them, of all 
 the arts and sciences known to man scattered 
 through nature, it is man alone that can collect, 
 relate and thus organize and develop them." 
 
 "For goodness sakes, man! You are not going to 
 
 leave Mr. F and his business hanging between 
 
 heaven and earth, tangled up in that spider-web, 
 while you are off on a trip throughout nature? I 
 just got you back, a moment ago, out of the depths 
 of the forest, and here you are, oflf again, on so 
 slender a thread as a spider's web!" 
 
 "Well, what is there to add about Mr. F ? 
 
 As an inventor he stands at the head of his class. 
 He produces at the door of the consumer, in the 
 center of his market; and that market extends from 
 day to day, not by reaching more distant localities 
 with his ware, merely, but by the increase of popu- 
 lation in the locality where he is without competitors. 
 Under these circumstances the handsome fortune, 
 say of seven or eight hundred thousand dollars, 
 which he has accumulated, can be no marvel to a 
 business man, but will be regarded by such only as 
 an earnest, a fair beginning of what will be done in 
 the next ten years." 
 
 "You regard him worth that much, now?" 
 
 "Yes, at a very low estimate. That is placing his 
 plant at a fraction above what it is placed at by 
 public authority." 
 
 "You say, of what will be done in the next ten 
 years — why not in the next fifteen, twenty, or thirty 
 years? An establishment like that does not wear 
 out in a man's lifetime!" 
 
 "No, but the conditions under which that and 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 every other business is conducted here now will be 
 materially changed in the course of the next ten or 
 
 fifteen years. Mr. F himself does not think so, 
 
 but to me this is evident." 
 
 "What do you refer to?" 
 
 "Production, so far as it results from the me- 
 chanical and manufacturing industries, is to-day pro- 
 tected in the valley against competition from the 
 densely populated centers of this and foreign coun- 
 tries by the cost o£ transportation. This cost is 
 enough to provide for large pay to the labor em- 
 ployed and still leave a margin for profit, over and 
 above the profit of production elsewhere. But with 
 the increase of population the facilities for transpor- 
 tation will be developed, and these will reduce its 
 
 cost far below what Mr. F , or the business 
 
 men now active here, estimate or think possible. 
 Now, with increased facilities we will have cheaper 
 transportation, with cheaper transportation decreased 
 protection against, and therefore greater competi- 
 tion with outside production, and hence smaller 
 profits. 
 
 "But this is not the only factor that enters into the 
 problem. Already the east is attempting to use the 
 political power of the nation to furnish it with facili- 
 ties to market the products of its people It doesn't 
 require a very close student of a political organiza- 
 tion like ours to see how readily it can be perverted 
 from its lofty purpose to a mere means to make 
 the pot boil in this or that quarter of its extensive 
 domain. With the recent passage of the act by con- 
 gress, granting a portion of the public domain to a 
 private corporation, in order to construct a rail- 
 road, I regard the public domain disposed of. A few 
 years, a very few at that, less than a man's lifetime, 
 will suffice to sweep the board. Whatever may be 
 the result of the crusade now preached by fellows 
 who have mounted French abstractions, draped with 
 sentimental toggery; whether they will succeed in 
 leading the people of the United States, like the 
 hordes of the eleventh and twelfth centuries were led, 
 'to their holy grave,' it is certain that the manu- 
 facturing industries of the valley must and will 
 undergo changes, and that, too, of a radical charac- 
 ter in the next ten years." 
 
 "Henry, this begins to be interesting, but I have to 
 make another call to-night." 
 
 "Yes, and I must work. You keep me gassing; I 
 will never catch up with my notes." 
 
 "By the by, I heard Mr. F tell his wife some- 
 thing about the 'possum stories in camp, and she will 
 be after you for them." 
 
 "That is all right; if they will just give me time 
 to get them on paper once, in something like con- 
 nected shape." 
 
 It is bed time and past; I have been writing the 
 whole evening and barely finished what has accumu- 
 lated since I have returned from the woods. I 
 wonder when I shall be able to catch up with the day. 
 
 October 25, 1856. 
 
 This morning Mr. F sent for me from the 
 
 mounting shop. 
 
 "Come in," said he, as I entered the door. "See 
 
 what Mr. W has done while we were out in 
 
 camp! He has stolen your thunder. Just look at 
 that!" pointing at the parlor stove, mounted with 
 the ornaments in position and a fire lighted within. 
 "How is that for ornamentation?" he asked. 
 
 "Very agreeable. It commences with lines, ascends 
 into bands and ends at the top with whole surfaces; 
 and thus verifies to us, through the eye, by its ap- 
 pearance, the universal observation that heat ascends, 
 which has almost become an instinct. I did not see 
 the trick of the artist, why he wanted this plating, 
 but it is obvious enough now. He increases the 
 comfort which the stove is intended to supply by 
 compelling the eye to assist our sense of feeling in 
 appreciating it. The stove will look almost as warm 
 without as it feels with the fire; and that, I take it, 
 is ornamenting a stove to some purpose!" 
 
 "And Mr. W tells me, and I see for myself, 
 
 that there has not been a file used upon the edge of 
 a single plate in mounting it," he remarked. 
 
 "It is not necessary to pay men in one department 
 to make work for another. Inferior work in the 
 pattern shop produces inferior results on the molder's 
 floor, if it does not furnish excuses for them, 
 and they have to be corrected by expensive manipu- 
 lations in the mounting department, where the results 
 are put to the final test — fit or no fit. It is here like 
 it is in that large shop, where men and women are 
 produced for the various walks in life. There, too, 
 we have our pattern makers, and then the molders, 
 the teachers who use the patterns. If the former 
 fail ever so little, the latter cannot succeed, for 
 instead of detecting the weak point in the pattern, 
 and remedying the defect, they are likely to use it as 
 an excuse for inferior results." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, but I think it will be some time, 
 not in your lifetime or mine, before the pattern 
 makers of the world, even with the help of the best 
 of molders, will succeed in producing such a fit of 
 the different parts of society as that is." 
 
 Turning round he asked Mr. W : 
 
 "How many are you running a day? What is the 
 capacity of the patterns, I mean?" 
 
 "I count on twenty a day; and they are in the 
 sand — without duplicating the patterns for the base, 
 top or fire box," said Mr. W . 
 
 "Henry, but wait a moment; I think I hear Mrs. 
 F 's carriage. I have sent for her." 
 
 He stepped out' and returned in a few moments 
 with the lady on his arm. After she had greeted 
 us very kindly, he called her attention to the stove 
 and said: 
 
 "Mary, how do you like that stove? It is the new 
 one which I have talked to you about, and of which 
 yoii have the urn on your mantel piece. I want to 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 get your judgment of it. How do you think it will 
 strike the taste of the ladies?" j 
 
 "It is beautiful, Mr. F ," she replied, "the 
 
 handsomest that^I)jever saw! Who designed the 
 ornaments? But' 1/ am afraid people ' can't afford 
 to pay for it, it lis SO expensive! But who did the 
 ornaments?" r- > •■■ ' 
 
 "You musti asi. Henry. He pretends, that an old 
 Dutchman did it trp.,town. But when I heard him 
 give an explanation of them a little while ago, as to 
 why they are so pleasing, I was inclined to think that 
 he himself was-npt. far off when the idea of them 
 was conceived.". 
 
 "You do Mr, OlS wrong, Mr. F : — . I knew 
 
 nothing about, these ornaments in their design until 
 I saw them this mornings— I mean their effect as a 
 whole, and the p.ri.nciple upon which it depends. Be- 
 cause a man can appreciate, that ig no proof that he 
 can originate," I replied. , 
 
 "Well, Mr. $^T- , we will not quarrel about that. 
 
 What I was ''going to say, when' Mrs.. .F. came 
 
 in, was that you better drop everything and duplicate 
 such parts of the. patterns of this stove as Mr. 
 
 W may want. We want to run fifty of them a 
 
 day, as soon as we can, if only for a month or two. 
 I don't thiijk the cost will be so great as to interfere 
 with the sale, an(;l the season is advancing rapidly. 
 I never dreamt of bringing it out this winter. Mr. 
 
 W has stolen, a njarch on us, d,earest! He had 
 
 it mounted while we were in the woods. How much 
 plate have you ifi stock, Mr. W ?" 
 
 "I think the books show three hundred, up to 
 Saturday." 
 
 "He had it put up all by himself, dearest," Mr. 
 F added. 
 
 "That was right, Mr. W . I am under ever 
 
 so many obligations to you for that. Did Mr. 
 
 B know that you were going, to have it 
 
 mounted?" asked Mrs. F -. 
 
 "Yes, he knew and put me up to it, or at least 
 we talked it over together," said Mr. W . 
 
 "And you never mentioned it to me, Mr. B ," 
 
 remarked M^r. F . 
 
 "Of course not,'.' I replied. "The very object was 
 to show you that you, have not worked and worried 
 day and night for the last ten years without accom- 
 plishing something more than to make a few dollars 
 of money. We wanted to show you that you have 
 rigged up a machine tliat can do that whether you 
 are present or absent. , We. wanted to prove, by 
 actual demonstration, that one hour out of twenty- 
 four of your tifne is all that' is needed to keep that 
 machine in (jerfett order", and that you need not 
 devote even that' oh' the tread mill principle on 
 which you have been working heretofore; nay, the 
 experiment we'Tiave made might even go further 
 than that. It might prove that one hour of health 
 is worth more than the whole' two ' dozen of sick- 
 ness. The head' of the establishment, passing 
 through the different departments, his eyes sparkling, 
 
 his mind steel bright, scatters courage, contentment 
 and fe'alty on every side of his hath. This 'is a 
 lubricator of & very superior kind; quite essential 
 when the cogs and pinions of the'"machine are 
 sentient beings, and is not to be purchased at the 
 
 apothecary sliop.- Mr. W stole,, a march on 
 
 you, as you call it,, but as I saw no nj^lice in the 
 undert.aking, I did not think it necessary to inform 
 J'OU." , 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. F^— — both laughed, and the latter 
 said: 
 
 "You see what you get, Mr. F , a ,l,ecture in 
 
 your own shop, from one of your employes. That 
 is what comes of familiarity, of going out with them 
 into camp!" 
 
 "\''es, Mrs. F ," I replied, "and, you might 
 
 add, <3f inviting them to your own house, nay, to 
 your own table!',' 
 
 "Why, dearest, that is nothing to being lectured 
 in my own chamber, and that, too, by men who say 
 you must do, this and you must do that, without. a 
 word to show how it is possible to do, or not to do, 
 either. These men here know at least what they 
 are talking about; nor are they satisfied with talk 
 alone. They put their own shoulders to the wheel 
 to relieve mine, if the burden becomes excessive. 
 
 The lecture, which Mr. W has given to me, by 
 
 deed, and' Mr. B has expressed in words, is 
 
 very welcome to me — and, gentlemen, I can only say 
 I thank you for' the pains you have taken in my 
 interest." 
 
 "There, dearest, you only make it worse — but, of 
 course, geritfemen, whatever pleases my husband 
 pleases 'me, and I hope you will lecture him thb 
 same way every day in the year. But just look at 
 this stove from here, where you can feel the fire! 
 It looks like it might burn up, like the stove itself 
 was burning." 
 
 "A thousand dollars, a thousand dollars! I would 
 not take a thousand dollars for this, Henry!" ex- 
 claimed Mr. W , as he entered my shop an hour 
 
 or so later. "But do j;ou know what I thought? I 
 
 actually thpught Mrs. F^ — was in bitter earnes,t 
 
 when she pitched into you for lecturing her husban^ 
 in his own shop? And just think, he didn't send for 
 
 Mr. S -, didp't even send for the 'Smart-Aleck!' 
 
 Y'es, and do you know, the fool told me t,hat Ih^4 
 put too. many of the new parlors into the sand! 
 He told me only last Saturday that it wouldn't do,; 
 that we didn't know how the stove would take; and 
 
 all that ponsense! And here comes Mr. F-^ — ■ and 
 
 orders fifty a day! Fifty a day, Henry, "that means 
 business! Yes, and never asked that fellow one 
 word aboVit it^^not a word! Didn't evefi' send for 
 him to'iobk' at it! But he sent for his Vvnfe; some- 
 body that has sense. He knows his people. I have 
 never kriown her to be mistaken yet about a new 
 stove. Did you hear her, how quick she found the 
 weakjpoint, the cost, the expense of thfe thing? Did 
 vouub'tice that?" ■ ' ' ■' 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY 
 
 213 
 
 "Yes, I noticed it, >.nd it struck me favorably. It 
 looks so much more expensive than virhat it is, that 
 there ought to be a handsome margin between the 
 two for profit. I was about to tell her that we could 
 sell the stove for five dollars less than what she would 
 value it at, but caught myself. That is a matter for 
 Mr. F to know, and for him alone." 
 
 "Of course, but I can figure out the cost of the 
 stove, too, within a few cents — all except the orna- 
 ments. But I don't know about them; I expect they 
 would cost a great deal. A dollar's worth of silver 
 doesn't go far when it comes to spreading it over a 
 stove, and then, too, as liberally as that." 
 
 "No, indeed it doesn't," I replied, "but Mr. F 
 
 has figured it and he is not liable to make mistakes 
 in matters of that kind." 
 
 "But you know, too, don't you," Mr. W 
 
 aisked, "the amount of silver in those ornaments?" 
 
 "Yes — that is — no; I don't either. Let me see — 
 oh yes, there is not a cent's worth of silver in them. 
 They are nickel, and the cost of plating on that stove, 
 exclusive of the labor of attaching the ornaments, 
 doesn't exceed twenty cents, all told." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "A little cunning and skill goes a great ways in 
 
 this world, Mr. W , when the question is to 
 
 make a show, merely. As to the silver plating, I 
 don't know. That depends largely upon the weight 
 of the coating you put on. But for practical use, the 
 nickel, with proper care, will serve all purposes." 
 
 "And that is nickel! And you say that all that 
 work would not cost over a quarter of a dollar?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "Certainly, not to exceed that. You got them out 
 of my drawer, marked 'A'." 
 
 "Yes, that is the only one which the key you left 
 us would unlock. That is it, one man in ten thousand 
 couldn't tell them from silver. I'll bet the old gen- 
 tleman himself takes them for silver. I know Mrs. 
 
 F did, or she would not have said what she 
 
 did!" 
 
 "That is likely. By the by, that reminds me of 
 something. Tell me, do you think a person could 
 get isinglass in town — I mean, sheet-mica?" 
 
 "I don't know, Henry. It seems to me that I 
 have seen it somewhere. Why, do you want to use 
 it?" 
 
 "Yes, you know it resists the action of fire, and in 
 my projecting I want to make an experiment in 
 which I need a sheet or two — or perhaps a half a 
 dozen sheets." 
 
 "I will see whether I can get on the track of it. I 
 am almost certain I have seen some in town, some- 
 where." 
 
 At noon Jochen came by with his wagon, Pat 
 driving the colts. I promised to go home with him 
 to-night to see the folks. In the afternoon Mr. 
 
 W called again and brought me a dozen sheets 
 
 of mica, a spendid article, as clear as glass, without 
 a flaw in it, On asking him what they cost, he said: 
 
 "Nothing, I have orders to furnish whatever you 
 need in your 'solder-kitchen,' as the 'Smart-Aleck' 
 in the office calls the room where you do the plating 
 and that kind of work. Do you know what Mr. 
 
 F told me at noon? He said that fellow 
 
 actually admires our stove. For once we have hit it. 
 We have put up a stove that might not be a little 
 more this and a little more that — a little broader or 
 a little higher — a little longer for its breadth, or a 
 little taller for its length — or might not have a little 
 more jack-ass in it for the amount of horse, as the 
 nigger said, when he took his master's saddle horse 
 for a mule, the only animal he had ever seen with a 
 saddle on!" 
 
 After I got the isinglass, I regretted that I had 
 made the appointment with Jochen — but, of course, 
 I could not disappoint him. 
 
 October 25, 1856. 
 
 "You see, Henry, I had to do it," Jochen com- 
 menced, as we reached East St. Louis last night. "It 
 is too much money, too much! I don't like it, but 
 I had to bite into the sour apple, the crab apple! 
 It is too much money! And then, they will have it 
 better. They will have an easy time of it; do noth- 
 ing and live high. Do nothing — to pull that play- 
 thing, what is that? Nothing! Yes, nothing! That 
 is no potato wagon, dragged with a full load through 
 mud, axle deep! No, it is better for them." 
 
 "What is it, Jochen? Did you sell the colts?" 
 
 "Yes, sonny, I had to do it. It is too much money. 
 And then, you see, I have them to spare, I have two 
 more. They are sister and brother, all of them 
 Lucy's colts — those and these; and all by the same 
 horse, too! The old mare brings me a colt every 
 year, and works enough about the place to feed her- 
 self besides. She is ten years old, and I have six 
 of her colts, and will have four left when these go to 
 town. But, two are big enough to do light work, and 
 they need care. I have them coming on well, but 
 one is a filly, and I don't feel like bothering with 
 her. I want her to take Lucy's place. The old mare 
 can't last forever, and I must have one or two on the 
 place. I must raise my own teams." 
 
 "Well, Jochen, we can't keep everything. You 
 knov/ how you and I felt about that land on the 
 bluffs. We didn't want to sell a foot of it, and 
 now — " 
 
 "You are not going to break your promise, 
 Henry?" he interrupted. "You don't mean to say 
 that you are going to fool away — " 
 
 "Don't get excited, Jochen! Listen first, and then 
 give me your opinion as to what I must do." 
 
 I then related to him the condition of affairs — 
 what I had concluded in regard to the landing — the 
 
 opinion of Mr. Pastor, of Conrad and of Mr F , 
 
 and asked him to think it over and let me know in 
 the morning. 
 
 "That is all very well, Henry — but — " 
 
 "We can't eat the loaf and have it afterwards, 
 Jochen. You think it over before you say anything 
 
214 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 about it, and in the meantime, let me know about 
 
 your trade with Mr. F . How much does he 
 
 pay you for the colts?" 
 
 "Yes, how much does he pay me for the colts? 
 You want to crowd me out of the track!" 
 
 "You know I do not, Jochen, only I want your 
 judgment when you have looked at the matter from 
 all sides. It is not so easy to see through as it 
 appears, when we shut our eyes. Think and talk 
 it over with Feeka, and then let me know what you 
 think of it. You will do this, won't you, for me?" 
 
 "Yes, yes sonny, I will. Yes, I will! But — yes, 
 the colts — yes, Henry — you see, he asked me what 
 I would take for them when we came back that 
 morning from Kroemer's, I told him that I did not 
 want to sell them and had no price for them. He 
 then wanted to know whether I would sell them at 
 all. I told him that I did not know; that I had not 
 thought about it; but that if he wanted them, and 
 would let me train them to the harness, and the work 
 that he wanted them to do, and to the stable and 
 driver — he might make me an offer, and I would 
 think it over. 
 
 " 'You see, Mr. F ,' I told him. 'T don't want 
 
 j'our money unless j'ou get something for it. And I 
 don't want my colts abused and spoiled, so that you 
 cannot have any good out of them. But if I can 
 show your man what they are, how they have been 
 trained, what they know and how he can make them 
 understand him, you can have good out of them!' 
 
 "And he told me that that was just what he 
 wanted; and that he would give me so much for 
 them, but he did not care for anybody to know how 
 much he paid, and that if I concluded to let him 
 have them, to come in this morning and let him 
 know, so that he could tell me what to do. When I 
 got home I told Feeka, and she said, 'that is a great 
 deal of money;' and this morning early she said, 'I 
 have thought about it, Jochen, and it is too much 
 money for us to have in a team!' And it is, sonny, 
 it is! 
 
 "So I went over, and his men took us to the shop, 
 and there they fitted the colts with a pair of harness, 
 good enough for a prince to ride behind. And then 
 we went to another shop, and hitched to a brand 
 new carriage, and you ought to have seen Jobe. 
 He stepped as if the earth wasn't good enough for 
 him — you know he is full grown and has all his sense. 
 But, sonny, that Irishman knows something about a 
 team. He knows that a horse is no brute if you 
 don't make him one." 
 
 "And you think, Jochen, it is the man that makes 
 the brute?" 
 
 "Yes, sonny, every time! But, j'ou see, Mr. 
 
 F don't want his wife to know that he has 
 
 bought the colts. They are for her and he wants to 
 a kind of surprise her with them, as a present for her 
 birthday. So I drove up to the stable to-day the 
 back way, to show the colts the place; but I will keep 
 them until Saturday and then — but it is too much 
 
 money 
 
 The dusk of the evening was rapidly changing 
 into dark as we reached the gate, but my little 
 friends were there, with a welcome sweet and fresh 
 from the heart. As I bent down to kiss little Yetta, 
 her arms twined about my neck, I clasped her in 
 mine and bore her into the house. She nestled 
 closely on my lap until we went to the table, and 
 then she sat right by my side. Her mother wel- 
 comed me with a mother's pride and a friend's hand. 
 To her husband she said, after the usual greeting: 
 
 "I am glad you brought them back, Jochen. It 
 was a great deal of money, but I have felt lonesome 
 all day because I thought they were gone." 
 
 "Yes, Feeka, but you see, I have told him that he 
 can have them; and I only keep them for him until 
 Friday morning." 
 
 "Did you sell the colts, father?" asked Henry. 
 
 "Yes, Henry, I sold them." 
 
 "Are you not sorry, Henry?" I asked. 
 
 "No, I couldn't drive them. I don't like horses 
 that I can't drive," he answered. 
 
 "But I do, uncle," put in little Yetta. "Jobe and 
 Nip just go whiz-whiz, and I like that! They ain't 
 mine though; they belong to mother, and she told 
 papa he might sell them." 
 
 "If they were yours, j'ou would not sell them, 
 would you?" 
 
 "No, uncle, I like to ride whiz, and then Jobe is a 
 good horse; he never forgets to say thank you if you 
 give him anything. When I give him a piece of 
 bread he does this way, with his head. That means 
 'thank you' — you see, he can't talk with his mouth!" 
 
 After supper, which consisted largely of the spoils 
 Jochen had brought home from camp, and which 
 Feeka had prepared with true frontier simplicity, 
 the only mode of cooking that does justice to the 
 native flavor of such meats, we talked awhile about 
 the incidents of our trip, for the satisfaction of 
 Feeka and the children. But the time of the even- 
 ing, the day's exertions and the comfortable seat 
 on my lap soon diminished our audience. I laid my 
 sweet burden, sound asleep, in her bed, kissed the 
 lovely one "good night" and retired to my room. 
 
 " 'Twas no use to be in a hurry," Jochen drawled 
 out, by the side of my bed, as I got my eyes open, 
 this morning, "but it is S o'clock, Henry, and by the 
 time we eat a mouthful and get over there, it will 
 be bell time." 
 
 "Yes, and I suppose that if you had not woke me 
 up, I would have slept until noon!" 
 
 Fifteen minutes later I shook hands with Feeka, 
 told her to kiss my little one "good-by" for me, 
 patted Henry on the head, and told him: 
 
 "You are right, my little man, a horse that you 
 can't drive is nothing to you!" and we were off. 
 
 "There is no use to be in such a hurry. You see, I 
 am not loaded. I only have a few potatoes which I 
 
 have picked out for Mrs. F and some hams, 
 
 five, the last I had, unless Feeka has hid one or two. 
 Yes, she will do that! Women will be women! And 
 then we can't blame them. No, and I don't. 'Tis 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 2IS 
 
 awkward like if anybody comes and she has noth- 
 ing in the house to put before them. Yes, Mr. 
 
 F thought it would be a good way to show the 
 
 colts the place and not let Mrs. F notice any- 
 thing. I will drive in the back way and fool around 
 to give the colts a chance. And then, you see, I have 
 business there!" 
 
 "Yes, I see, Jochen. But you better be careful; 
 
 Mrs. F has a pair of eyes of her own, and is 
 
 in the habit of keeping them open." 
 
 "I know, sonny, I know; but then, she couldn't 
 suspect me of anything. I don't know enough for 
 that, sonny!" 
 
 "Well, I expect between j'ou, Mr. F , your- 
 self and Pat, three to one, you may make out; but 
 if numbers were even, I would lay the odds three to 
 one the other way. However, what have you got to 
 say this morning about that village, about that land 
 question? You promised to let me know; have you 
 thought it over?" 
 
 "Yes, Henry, yes, and didn't sleep half tl:e night 
 on account of it. Feeka says it can't be helped, but 
 I have been thinking that perhaps you might lay it 
 out and rent the lots, so that you would still be the 
 owner of the whole tract." 
 
 "I have thought of that, too, Jochen; but then a 
 village is different from a farm. A town or village 
 is made up of what the people do for it. The place, 
 the land, is little or nothing to what the people put on 
 it. Now, if a man doesn't own the place, he puts on 
 nothing but what he is compelled to, and that will 
 not build up a town. Farm land is different. There 
 he has to work, or he has nothing. He can't take a 
 piece of prairie and at the end of the lease leave it 
 without having improved it, increased its value. But 
 in a village he can put up shanties to live, and 
 sheds to do his work in, for the time being. He is 
 not interested in the place, except to make what he 
 can, from day to day, and move on, if he thinks he 
 can do better somewhere else. If you make him an 
 owner, however, of ever so small a lot, you make 
 Viim a partner in the prosperity of the place with you, 
 and in this way he is an addition to the forces that 
 produce that prosperity. Then, everybody can't buy 
 land to make a farm, but almost anybody can get 
 money enough to buy a little spot in a village — and 
 our people will not rent if they can buy." 
 
 "That's it, sonny, that's it! That is the reason it 
 is so hard to sell land that you once own. 'Tis like 
 parting with the colts. Yes, I don't like to, but it 
 can't be helped. No, what you say is true. The 
 people there must have a place to trade and truck, 
 to have their plows sharpened and tools, shoes and 
 clothes made and mended. If you don't give them 
 a place, they must get one farther off, and that 
 might not be as well for them, or you either. You 
 will have an eye to things in your own village 
 until it gets on its own legs like, and that will be 
 of use to the people on your own place — no, it can't 
 be helped!" 
 
 In crossmg the street I saw Fritz and Mr. Olff 
 
 pass into the gate ahead of me. The latter had 
 come down to look at the parlor stove, as I sent 
 him word yesterday, by Fritz, that it was mounted. 
 He handed me the plats of the village, which I had 
 requested him to draw, and we went and looked at 
 the stove together. While he was examining it from 
 different positions and distances, I told him the 
 effect of the ornamentation upon the persons who 
 
 had seen it, and also the remark of Mrs. F , 
 
 which had struck me as worthy of note — "It looks 
 like the stove is afire." 
 
 "It has suggested a thing to me," said I, "that I 
 will explain to you in my shop." 
 
 When he got through, we went over and I con- 
 tinued: 
 
 "The ornamentation on the stove is a great suc- 
 cess, but would it not be possible, Mr. Olff, to 
 heighten its effect by the use of these sheets of 
 mica, and set the stove afire in reality, as far as the 
 eye is concerned? The people we are working for, 
 
 I mean the customers of Mr. F , are accustomed 
 
 to see the fire that warms them. Now, if we were 
 to put mica windows around the body of the stove, 
 and render the fire visible, and thus reveal the 
 cause of the fable you have told to the eye in these 
 ornaments, don't you think it would heighten the 
 effect?" 
 
 He thought for a moment — then with a peculiar 
 gleam in his eye, he said: 
 
 "It would make them alive! There is nothing to 
 be changed except that we can make the lower lines 
 bolder. With the people the shop is working for 
 that ought to be a great success." 
 
 "Could you, at leisure moments," I asked, "without 
 interrupting your work too much, draw me a sketch 
 of it, and of the modifications it would involve in 
 the body of the stove, and in the present set of 
 ornaments?" 
 
 "Come up to-morrow morning and look at it. I 
 am at work at 5 o'clock." And he was off without 
 even saymg "good morning." 
 
 After reflection for some time upon the strange 
 compound such a man is — how he is wrapped in 
 the thought until utterly oblivious to everything 
 else, helpless, at the mercy of nothing, hovering 
 as it were, in the air, all else invisible for the time 
 being — my eyes rested upon the roll of drawing 
 paper which he had handed to me. On opening it 
 I found four plats, executed with the nicety and 
 cleanliness of perfection. On one of them he had 
 drawn a modest but beautifully proportioned church, 
 in the center of the block which I had indicated, as 
 intended for the purpose. The front of the block 
 was ornamented with shade trees, and to the right 
 and left of the main entrance of the edifice he had 
 drawn two magnificent weeping willows, their 
 pendent branches and twigs almost sweeping the 
 ground. 
 
 In the rear of this, on the block north, he had 
 drawn the parsonage. The house fronted southeast 
 and occupied what would be the rear or southern 
 
2l6 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 end of the northwest corner lot of the block. The 
 southern half of the latter, where he had indicated 
 the main entrance to the premises, was divided by 
 a broad, straight walk, skirted on the east, or to 
 the right as you entered, by a kitchen garden, laid 
 off in regular beds; while the west half, or left side, 
 which formed the southern front of the house, was 
 laid out in a flower garden — cut up into plats and 
 geometrical figures. As you looked north, over the 
 truck garden, the eye was arrested, at the eastern 
 front of the house, by a grape arbor, in the form of 
 a cross. Beyond this the tops of stables and out- 
 houses were indicated, as occupying the northern 
 front of the block. All this was admirable, and in 
 accordance with what he had gathered of my inten- 
 tion, but when it came to the site for the academy, 
 he had followed his own imagination entirely — on the 
 principle that it is very easy "to cut whangs out of 
 another's hide," as Jochen said, when he looked at 
 the plats at noon — or to be liberal at another's ex- 
 pense. Instead of indicating the southwest corner 
 block of the village, as I had intended, he had 
 quietly gone outside of the village, cut the adjoining 
 southern eighty acres in two and placed the college 
 building upon the western forty. This he had laid 
 out in all manner of walks, and even a drive was not 
 unnecessary, according to his idea; studded about 
 with copses, shade trees and all the accompaniments 
 of a regular park. It annoyed me at first, as I had 
 intended to send this plat to Mr. Fromme. "But for 
 this wild trick, it would have solaced the good man's 
 feelings not a little," said I to myself. As it is, I 
 must send him one without Mr. Olff's imaginary 
 structures and improvements. 
 
 To my utter surprise, however, when Mr. F 
 
 happened in, and I showed him the plats, he said: 
 
 "That is the very thing, Henry, the very thing! It 
 will call the attention of every German immigrant 
 in the country who belongs to that persuasion to 
 your village! The ministers will thank God for your 
 liberality, in order to stimulate the liberality of 
 their congregations, and if anything can move so 
 hard-fisted a people, that will. But whether it does 
 or not, your purpose is served. Here — you send 
 that plat to Mr. Fromme. After that you can go 
 to sleep. Your town will take care of itself. My 
 word for it, Henry, you will never regret it!" 
 
 After thinking the matter over, I have concluded 
 to adopt Mr. Olff's suggestion and Mr. F 's ad- 
 vice — but it will require a good deal of sugaring and 
 some management to make this dose palatable to 
 Jochen, I am thinking. 
 
 October 27, 1856. 
 
 Just got back from a jump over to my sweetheart. 
 Took her the manuscript of my translation of the 
 "Psychology," of Hegel, as I had promised. 
 
 This morning I went up to Mr. Olff. Found him 
 already chipping away on the carving for the change 
 in the parlor stove. The sketch showed that he has 
 adopted the Gothic window as the foundation for his 
 figures. He opens the upper half of the body of the 
 
 stove with a circle of Gothic windows, filled with mica, 
 through which the play of the flames will be visible. 
 He attaches them to the body of the stove in the 
 shape of doors, each window a separate door, so 
 that instead of one there will be six — the whole an 
 admirable contrivance for the purpose in view. 
 
 Had a short call from Mr. H this evening. 
 
 He is busy making calls. Had a reception tendered 
 him at three places on the same evening, but gave 
 
 Mrs. F the preference, so that the rest will 
 
 be adjusted to suit her convenience. He is full of 
 social tittle-tattle and airy nothings, but enjoys it 
 wonderfully. Now, for an evening's work on my 
 unfinished notes from camp. 
 
 October 28, 1856. 
 
 Sent the plat of the village to Mr. Fromme with 
 directions in regard to terms of sale and conditions 
 as to building. Jochen called for a moment after 
 delivering his colts. 
 
 "It is so, Henry!" he commenced. "You don't 
 believe it! But it is really hard to part with them! 
 I didn't think it would be so hard!" 
 
 "Why, Jochen, they are not out of the world; you 
 can go and see them every time you come to town. 
 And then, they are in good hands." 
 
 "That they are, sonny, that they are! You are 
 right, and then I can see them. Yes, and welcome, 
 too! Yes, and they know Pat and he knows them. 
 They are not with strangers — I did not put them in 
 the hands of strangers to abuse them." 
 
 Have the whole evening to myself to devote to my 
 notes. 
 
 October 29, 1856. 
 
 Mr. F called in at the shop and before he 
 
 left asked whether I would call on Mrs. F dur- 
 ing the day. I told him that nothing would give 
 me greater pleasure, but that I had some misgivings 
 about the propriety. 
 
 "You go; she will think hard of it if you don't," 
 he replied. 
 
 So, I called between 2 and 3 this afternoon. To my 
 surprise, I found nobody there except the members 
 of the family, and during my stay, only a few neigh- 
 bors came in to express the usual congratulation. 
 She was in her happiest mood and sparkled with 
 vivacity. After I had been there for some time and 
 was thinking of leaving, she said to me: 
 
 "You have not seen my beautiful present, which I 
 received from Mr. F ." 
 
 "No, what is it?" 
 
 "Come, and I will show you." She took me to the 
 light of the window and showed me a handsome, but 
 by no means costly brooch. As I admired the gift, 
 she remarked: 
 
 "Yes, and the best thing of it was, I found out all 
 about it. He had been so sly about what he was 
 going to give me — " 
 
 Here she was interrupted by the rattle of a car- 
 riage, and before we could look, it stopped in front 
 of the house. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 217 
 
 "Come here, dearest," said Mr. F- 
 
 -. "See what 
 
 carriage is that! I don't remember anybody driving 
 such a team!" 
 
 "Yes, you don't want me to tell on you, how I 
 caught you napping! How I found out three weeks 
 ago what you intended to give me! This beautiful 
 pin! But you can't hide things from me." 
 
 "Come, dear," he urged, "I don't sec anybody get 
 out! Who can it be!" 
 
 "I have never seen that turnout. Who is it, 
 James?" she asked, turning to the servant attending 
 the door. 
 
 "I don't know, ma'am. The driver says he has a 
 
 note for Mrs. F and that his master sent his 
 
 carriage for her, if she would be kind enough to 
 answer the note in person," the servant said. 
 
 "There must be somebody sick," she said, as she 
 stepped forward to receive the note. She opened 
 it with some anxiety and read — a letter from her 
 husband to the effect "that if convenient, I shall take 
 a ride with my dear wife in her new carriage, her 
 birthday present. 
 
 "From your affectionate husband." 
 
 Of course, this led to a pleasant scene between 
 husband and wife. After the iirst surprise was over, 
 she said: 
 
 "So you gave me that beautiful brooch only to 
 hide yourself. You brought it home and hid it, and 
 felt very cheap, or pretended to, when you found 
 this morning that I had rifled your drawer and wore 
 my present before you were out of bed!" 
 
 "Yes, dearest, and so you can't say that I gave 
 it to you; nor did I. You never saw the note that 
 came with it, in the same drawer, did you?" 
 
 "No," she answered. "I didn't think you would 
 write a note to me!" 
 
 "Well, here it is. I don't know what there is in 
 it!" 
 
 She opened the letter and read: 
 
 "The hand limits the gift, not the heart!" 
 
 "(Signed) B." 
 
 "And you were in the conspiracy, too," she turned 
 
 to me. "You got Mr. F to order that brooch 
 
 at the jewelry shop, just to throw me off the track! 
 You hatched it all out at the camp!" 
 
 "Likely, Mrs. F , but I reckon Mr. F 
 
 can explain that to you if you don't let him wait too 
 long for that drive." 
 
 "That is so. James, tell Pat to hitch — why, what 
 is he doing in the seat? Why doesn't he bring the 
 horses, or take the carriage round to the house and 
 hitch up?" 
 
 "But he is hitched up. Don't you see the lines in 
 his hand?" said Mr. F . 
 
 "And those horses belong to the carriage and to 
 me, too?" 
 
 "Of course, it wouldn't do to drive your old team 
 
 to a carriage like that." said Mr. F . After 
 
 Mrs F had kissed her husband once more, she 
 
 asked: 
 
 "And where is the man who brought, who drove up 
 here with the carriage?" 
 
 "He is out there yet," said I, "saying 'good-by' 
 to his pets." 
 
 "James," she called, "go and bring him in." 
 
 James soon returned with Nick, Jochen's man, and 
 she rewarded him with a present to remember her 
 by. He thanked her and acquitted himself a great 
 deal better than I had expected. And now every- 
 body had to look at the carriage, and especially at 
 the horses, which in their new dress, shining black 
 harness, with silver mountings, were a sight well 
 worth looking at. 
 
 I got back to my room in time to have a talk with 
 
 Mr. H , and then had the whole evening to 
 
 myself. 
 
 October 30, 1856. 
 
 The greatest wrong that can be done to a man is to 
 treat him as if God was only outside of him — he 
 God-forsaken! Had a pleasant hour with Miss 
 Elizabeth. She asked me: 
 
 "Henry, what language did you translate that book 
 into? You know I only speak English." 
 
 "Yes, dearest, I know, and not even all of that, I 
 expect. You know, you told me yourself that there 
 are a good many words that are empty to you. The 
 very purpose of the book is to see if you can not 
 remedy that." 
 
 "But you give me more that I don't know. I have 
 fifty empty purses, and you are not going to make 
 me rich by giving me twenty, or a hundred more!" 
 
 "Well, I don't know. That looks a little queer. It 
 sounds like an increase of poverty would make us 
 rich." 
 
 "Yes, and I don't believe a word of it!" 
 
 "No? Well, suppose that you take these additional 
 hundred empty purses from me on trust, in good 
 faith, and I promise that I will look around for a 
 customer. Then, we will sell one hundred and fo.ty- 
 nine, put the money we get for them into the one we 
 have left. Then that one, at least, will not be empty." 
 
 "But where are you going to get your customers?" 
 
 "Now, there, that means you have no faith in my 
 promise. Come, just see! Haven't I got the whole 
 world to canvass in? Don't you think I will find 
 use for a pitiful hundred and fifty — nay for a hundred 
 and fifty thousand empty purses, or words, to hold or 
 express all its wealth? You see, darling, we receive 
 the meaning of words only through words, or at 
 least, largely so, and if we want the meaning of all 
 of them, it will naturally take all of them to express 
 it. Now, this book is a part of a whole, that has no 
 empty words in it; that, for this reason, has use for 
 all the words, each in its distinct sense. This being 
 the case, you see, of course, that it is not his fault, 
 nor mine either, for using the whole language, in- 
 stead of the part of it that you happen to be familiar 
 with. In addition to this, you also see that it would 
 be impossible to put the whole into a part — for the 
 hundred and fifty purses to hold what would fill a 
 
2l8 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 hundred and fifty thousand — to use your own illus- 
 tration again. Remember, I did not tell you that I 
 had translated the book into the English language 
 that you know, but simply into the English language 
 — straining it even here and there a little, perhaps, 
 to get the matter into it. Because, you see, there 
 is a difference in the capacity of different languages. 
 Each is made only to express the results of the 
 mental or spiritual activity of the people who use it. 
 It is that activity that makes the language. It does 
 not find it lying around on the street corners, but it 
 makes the language to utter itself, to hear itself, 
 and it doesn't make any more than it needs for this 
 purpose. In point of fact, it can't make any more 
 than just enough. So it happens that there are 
 plenty of languages in the world that are too small 
 to hold or express the mental life of the people who 
 use the English language, or the German, or the 
 French, or the Italian, or the Spanish; and if you 
 undertake to express that life in one of them, you 
 meet with great difficulties. This is even the case 
 in regard to the languages mentioned, and the worst 
 part of it is that the very thing most desirable to be 
 translated from the one into the other presents the 
 greatest difficulties from the circumstance mentioned. 
 There is no use to translate results of mental activity 
 out of another into our language that are identical 
 with results produced in our own; and when we 
 find some that are not identical, that exceed in extent 
 or intensity anything we have, then we are brought 
 up with a short turn, by the length of our tether — 
 the capacity of our language to express a mental 
 activity that did not create it." 
 
 "You always run off from me, Henry; you have 
 such long legs, I can't keep up with you. Where are 
 you? Give me some example, some landmark!" 
 
 "Oh, I see. The circumstance that I refer to is 
 this. There is not a work of value in either of the 
 languages that I have mentioned, or in the Latin 
 and Greek languages, besides, that has not been 
 translated into the German. There is not a shade 
 of thought expressed by the philosophers of Greece 
 and Alexandria but what is reproduced and expressed 
 in that language. Then, the world of poets is there. 
 Homer's sweet simplicity of diction is reproduced, 
 the close fit of the garment of the external form is 
 not neglected. You hear the horses' hoofs pattering 
 on the Trojan plain; the arrow whizzes through tha 
 air; Sisyphus straining, laboring up, up the hill with 
 the weight of the mighty mass, and hear it tumble 
 and topple a-down the steep side! There, you see 
 the gorgeous Calderon, glittering, sparkling with all 
 the splendor of his native Castilian sun! The Italian, 
 too, wrapped in deepest gloom of passion's darkest 
 hell! Then, our own Shakespeare, for whom the 
 world was none too large for a stage, with his quib- 
 bling fools, his swaggering jacks, his cajoling, de- 
 signing villains, his love-sick swains and maidens, 
 his weird sisters, his generals, statesmen, doubting 
 thinkers — all are there in their habiliments of spirit, 
 
 sentiment, meaning and character — not a syllable 
 wanting, not one added! Nor is there anything in 
 that language that has not been, or cannot be repro- 
 duced in our own, except the works of two men, and 
 these two precisely the ones which might, perhaps, 
 do us the greatest service — Goethe in poetry and 
 Hegel in philosophy. The reason for this I have 
 tried to explain to you. They stood at the head of 
 human achievements, each in his peculiar sphere, 
 among the nations whose languages I mention, and 
 whose mental life springs from the same germs — 
 germs which, of course, were modified in their de- 
 velopment by ethnological, climatic and similar ex- 
 ternal conditions, into the diversity which they pre- 
 sent. It is these peculiarities that act like fences 
 to separate them, and the strongest among these is 
 language, owing to the way in which it is made, as I 
 have explained — not merely by the different combi- 
 nations of sound, which each uses to express the 
 same fact, emotion or thought, but by the circum- 
 stance whether they have the same facts, emotions 
 or thoughts to express." 
 
 "From what you say, Henry, there is no such 
 thing as translating the works of highest excellence 
 out of one language into another." 
 
 "No, dearest, I do not mean to say that. It de- 
 pends upon what language you are translating into. 
 What I mean is that you cannot reproduce the 
 form, meaning and spirit of Shakespeare in Choctaw, 
 or Bacon's essays, or organon into Cherokee. If 
 you try, you will fail." 
 
 But how are the persons who use those languages 
 ever to receive the benefit of them?" 
 
 "The way that we did, by mental growth; and that 
 is not stimulated by word alone, much less by printed 
 word alone. Social, industrial, commercial contact — 
 contact of any kind transmits and stimulates. A 
 few days ago I was sitting talking with a neighbor 
 in his room. Directly we heard the voices of his 
 two boys, one four, the other nine years old, calling 
 each other names on the street, in front of the house. 
 
 "'You are a Dutchman!' said the elder to the 
 younger. 'No, I ain't. You are a Dutchman!' re- 
 plied the little one. They kept it up until the father 
 stuck his head out of the window and interrupted 
 them by saying: 'What are you talking about? I 
 am the only Dutchman in this house. You are noth- 
 ing but vulgar Americans.' A little while after this 
 the little chap came in, and edging himself betyv^een 
 his father's knees, looked up at him and asked, 'Is 
 that so papa? Are you a Dutchman?' 
 
 "Of course, he new as little and as much about the 
 meaning of the word that he used as he knew about 
 the vernal or latteral equinox; but he knew that he 
 was quarreling with his brother, and felt sure that 
 his brother did not intend to compliment him. This 
 furnished him with a meaning sufficient for his pur- 
 pose — but the father's remark confused him. Atti- 
 tude, the unspoken, wholly unuttered mood, in short, 
 the mere presence will produce its effect." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 2ig 
 
 "Yes, dearest, I believe if I were to come into a 
 dark room and you were there, I would feel your 
 presence without having heard your voice or seen 
 your face." 
 
 "It would be perhaps an extreme case, and yet one 
 that I am not prepared to call in question. It is this 
 as it were magical effect, magical because we cannot 
 formulate to ourselves in distinct terms either its 
 extent or its mode of action in detail — it is this, rather 
 than the printed word, that furnishes the first medium 
 of translation, of spiritual activities and their results, 
 between people who use different languages. If is 
 this that arouses suspicion, unrest — suspicion that 
 there is something unassimilated, and unrest until it 
 has realized it for itself in forms transparent to it, 
 in a language of its own creation. 
 
 "All translations prior to that are stuttering, halt- 
 ing, indirect. If of thought, they lack clearness of 
 distinction, the lines are blurred; and hazy fog in- 
 stead of clear sunshine fills the mental sky, with its 
 consequence of obscured vision. If the translation 
 be of a work of art, a poem, the form becomes 
 grotesque, down to caricature. Take the translations 
 of Goethe's 'Faust,' and who can see anything in 
 them that should justify the stir which is made about 
 this poem by public rumor? Who that has his 
 Shakespeare, his Goldsmith, his Laurence Sterne, 
 his Dean Swift, his Milton even, can have patience 
 with the abortion as it is presented? Yet the 
 original marches from heaven through the world to 
 hell, with a wonderful, steady, unflinching step, with 
 an air of grace and adequacy for each locality that is 
 truly admirable. From the merest doggerel of the 
 pit to the harpings of the seraphim on high, not a 
 note is wanting, not a note is out of tune. It is this, 
 the inherent excellence of the work, that causes 
 both the rumor and the abortion, but the rumor will 
 continue until it has reproduced for us the form 
 adequate for the content, nor will the abortion be 
 without its use in that behalf, if only in the way 
 of keeping the rumor to its work." 
 
 Have the balance of the evening for my notes. 
 
 October 31, 1856. 
 
 Brought down this morning the drawings for the 
 modification of the parlor stove; showed them to 
 
 Mr. F and explained that they were intended 
 
 to put Mrs. F 's words into practical use, as 
 
 far as possible. He was very much pleased and 
 directed me not to duplicate the old pattern, but to 
 push the new into shape at once. 
 
 "This will supersede everything," said he, "and it 
 is not worth while to make stoves which we will have 
 to discount." 
 
 Found Mr. H at my room on my return from 
 
 the shop this evening. Seemed worried about my 
 notes in regard to his letter. 
 
 "What do you mean, Henry, by the expression 
 'resources of the human race?' Does it contain any- 
 thing different from the old and well-known term, 
 'civilization?' It is this everlasting straining after 
 
 new terms for old things that becomes tiresome 
 if a person attempts to follow you either when writ- 
 ing or speaking. It is annoying to find myself dis- 
 appointed regularly at the end of each paragraph. 
 You start in with an air as if you had something to 
 say, both new and important, and the first thing one 
 knows, out pops some old acquaintance, dressed in 
 unusual toggery — an old thought in unusual phrase!" 
 
 "That is bad. Will, but perhaps unavoidable. 
 The remedy, of course, is very simple — close the 
 book. No book is worth reading that doesn't tell us 
 something which we don't know ourselves; it is a 
 mill grinding no grist. 
 
 "But, the question you ask, whether the expres- 
 sion — 'the resources of the human race' — doesn't 
 mean the same thing as what is usually expressed by 
 the term 'civilization,' I can't answer, for the reason 
 that while I know what I mean by "the resources of 
 the race,' I don't know what is meant by the expres- 
 sion 'civilization,' either ancient or modern. I know 
 that it is a habit of long standing for the different 
 peoples scattered over the earth to call themselves 
 civilized and their neighbors barbarians, but as this 
 practice is reciprocal, I have not been able to formu- 
 late to myself any distinct meaning for either term. 
 If I hear a European call the Asiatics barbarians, and 
 then hear an Asiatic call the Europeans barbarians, 
 I suppose that each means to express what the other 
 is for him, and that he means to do this truthfully. 
 Of course, you observe this mi.xes things considera- 
 bly. On the other hand, the etymological meaning, 
 if I were to adopt that, would be entirely inadequate 
 to convey the meaning which I desire to express. 
 For, I do not refer merely to the civic institution, 
 which man has devised, but to every other device, 
 of whatsoever kind and description, by means of 
 which he secures to himself supremacy upon and 
 over the earth, together with the art of using them " 
 
 "As for example?" 
 
 "First, industrial implements and skill, both in 
 their entire scope. This, you will observe, includes 
 the harpoon of fish bone, of the Esquimaux, and the 
 art of wielding it; the arrow dipped into poison used 
 by the Carib; the boomerang of the Australians, the 
 bolas of the Central Americans, no less than the 
 mainspring of a watch and its adjustment, or the 
 harnessing of steam and electricity, the elemental 
 powers of nature, by the European, together with the 
 skill of using the things usually called scientific in- 
 struments, back of them. Next, moral skill, the art 
 of using the institutions that render co-operation 
 possible between man and man. And, finally, civic 
 skill, that renders that co-operation a reality. 
 
 "Now, it may be that you would have understood 
 this meaning as well, or better, if I had used some 
 different expression, but I had none on hand that 
 answered my purpose as well; and I am writing 
 these notes, not you." Looking at the note: "Oh, 
 I see, that is what you are reading. You see, the 
 expression occurs in connection with a letter that I 
 received from you. In this you reiterate your con- 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 fession of faith, so important to you — 'that we can- 
 not know truth' — and that all my endeavors in that 
 direction must be futile. 
 
 "When I read this it occurred to me that you did 
 not mean that you and I were the only unfortunates 
 who are in this predicament, but that when you 
 said 'we,' you meant all men — the human race. This 
 naturally brought before my mind — as the predica- 
 tion related to ability and inability — what that race 
 had done in the past and was doing now. Its 
 achievements in the past look to me as if they were 
 the resources of the present, and hence the expres- 
 sion. I found it quite convenient, as it would readily 
 embrace both the accumulated means and the living 
 skill to apply them as was necessary for my pur- 
 pose." , 
 
 "But, what have they to do with the question of 
 the ability of man to know truth? That question 
 does not relate to fire, whether it will burn you, or 
 water, whether it will drown, but it maintains that 
 our knowledge of things is relative; that it contains 
 the relation of these things to us, and denies that we 
 can know anything beyond that relation; for the 
 simple reason that our sense organization is the 
 only means through which we enter into relation with 
 what is outside of us." 
 
 "Yes, I know, that is the opinion of men who never 
 molded a skillet, or invented a pin. But if they had 
 done either, they certainly would have known the 
 nature of iron, sand, coal and a variety of things — 
 their nature, wholly independent of the relation 
 which they sustain to man. But I don't care to 
 enter into a quarrel with you about the opinions of 
 Mr. Locke, Mr. Kant, or any other man. To me 
 the assertion that man wholly depends upon his 
 sensuous organization to enter into relation with what 
 is outside of him explains nothing, so far as human 
 
 . iiflfairs are concerned. I know a dozen different 
 
 species of animals that possess sensuous organiza- 
 tions superior to man — that is, they have eyes that 
 can see farther and better, ears that can hear farther 
 and better, noses that can smell farther and better, 
 feelings more sensitive and palates more delicate — 
 and yet not one of them is master over nature, but 
 man is. If the sensuous organization is all that man 
 has, then he is inferior to the brute, because in that 
 respect the brute is his superior. But man makes his 
 own eyes, he makes his own ears, his own sensuous 
 organization, and the brute does not. Not in what 
 man has in common with the brute, but in what he 
 excels the brute lies his humanity. It is this that is 
 of interest to me; and this alone that deserves the 
 serious attention of persons who want to know some- 
 thing about man's affairs. I do not mean to say 
 that man does not need his senses; nor that he is 
 not more or less dependent on them in dealing with 
 material nature. But what I mean is, that he, man, 
 uses them like a thousand and one implements which 
 he uses for the accomplishment of his purposes. 
 But his spontaneity stands behind these implements, 
 and modifies them at leisure. It is this spontaneity, 
 
 the knowing — it is this that deserves to be known, 
 and any theory that limits that by the implements 
 which it employs is 'milking the he-goat in a sieve,' 
 for it is the inventor of its own implements. Take 
 the aggregate of knowing, called physical science. 
 How much of it is attributable to the sensuous 
 organization of man? None of it, absolutely none! 
 Man had seen and heard for thousands of years, and 
 knew as much and as little as the beasts of the field, 
 which have seen, and heard better than man, and 
 possess just as much science to-day as man owes 
 to his sensuous organization. This science man 
 owes to his knowing, for it is only that knowing 
 realized. He owes it to that characteristic which 
 distinguishes him from the brute, and not to the 
 functions and faculties which he possesses in com- 
 mon with the brute. He possesses these faculties, 
 they do not possess him. He is behind them. He 
 knows them, determines their adequacy or inade- 
 quacy for the work in hand; remedies their defects, 
 corrects their results. Knowing them, he ascertains 
 their relation to the world of things without, and 
 through these the relation of the different things to 
 each other. Nor does he stop there. He penetrates 
 the things themselves, through their relation to 
 others, and never rests until he knows the thing in 
 its relation to him, in its relation to other things, 
 and out of either of these relations, the thing in and 
 by itself. It is only at this point that he becomes 
 its master; and all this I have to know with absolute 
 certainty, as regards iron, sand, fuel and every other 
 raw material and implement which I employ in pro- 
 ducing a skillet. 
 
 "Look here! You see this handful of acorns?" 
 
 "Yes, what of them? I see some of them are split 
 in two?" 
 
 "Yes, and you will observe that all the rest except 
 one or two are pecked." 
 
 "Well, what of them?" 
 
 "I gathered them the other day while in camp. I 
 noticed that whenever I happened to pass an old 
 black walnut near the lake, below camp, I was 
 jeered at and scolded by a redheaded woodpecker. I 
 also noticed that he seemed to have some special 
 business on the north side of that tree; and found 
 upon examination that he was using the deep crevices 
 in the rough bark on that side for bins to store these 
 nuts in for future use. But in order to put them 
 beyond the reach of the squirrel, or similar poacher, 
 he did not put the nut in as he picked it off the 
 tree, but split it in two and stored each half in a 
 separate crevice so deep and narrow that his bill 
 alone could reach it. Now the peculiarity of the 
 operation is this. Each nut, as you see, is split with 
 the natural cleavage; that is to say, the two stuffed 
 leaves of which the kernel consists are simply sepa- 
 rated, but, as you also see, there is no seam in the 
 hull of the acorn, as there is in the hickory, and other 
 nuts, to indicate this condition of the kernel within, 
 and thus guide the bird in his work of splitting the 
 nut. The hull is ruptured with a ragged edge, but 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 invariably with the seam of the kernel, and you 
 observe these which I picked up beneath his work- 
 bench, the limb where he performed the operation, 
 pecked, every one, right over that seam! Split as 
 many as you please, and you invariably find that he 
 saw where to strike. Now how does he find that 
 out? There is not the slightest indication to our 
 eye, on the outside of that hull, and you may try a 
 hundred nuts before you will hit the proper spot. 
 Nay, even this powerful lens, as you can satisfy 
 yourself, reveals nothing to guide us, yet he sees 
 where to strike. We don't. Still the whole race of 
 woodpeckers, all endowed with this wonderful eye- 
 sight, has never produced one Keppler. They are 
 hoarders too and hoard with skill, but where is the 
 woodpecker polity that turns the hoard of a thou- 
 sand years, nay, of the whole past of our race, into 
 the productive power of to-day? 
 
 "It is this fact that we want an account of, and 
 every theory concerning man's capability that fails 
 to account for this fact is worthless. They point to 
 the sensuous organization as the source of our ideas, 
 of our knowing. I ask why has not the woodpecker 
 ideas? He has a sensuous organization superior to 
 mine. Do not two springs of equal discharge pro- 
 duce two streams of equal size? Yet here we have 
 this little thread, the woodpecker brooklet, barely 
 visible for a step or two, and then utterly lost in the 
 sand. There we see the mountain stream glit- 
 tering, sparkling, blazing in the sun. With irresisti- 
 ble force, surmounting every obstacle, every obstruc- 
 tion; swirling in deep eddies here, lashing itself into 
 foam, into prismatic colors there, increasing in magni- 
 tude, in power, on it sweeps, beautifying, fructifying 
 the field of industry far and wide — on, on to the limit- 
 less ocean futurity. You say, these two results flow 
 from the same source. Ah, but man has an emotional 
 nature. He has a heart to feel; so has the insect, bird 
 and beast! Do you want to see conjugal fidelity? 
 Go to the goose, the dove, the panther even! 
 Parental affections? Anywhere in sentient nature, 
 and you cannot go amiss! I have seen a common ox 
 mourn his mate for days, weeks and months, as 
 sincerely as ever bereaved wife or husband; and yet 
 that mate had been nothing to him but his yoke-mate 
 in slavery. 
 
 "No, in sensation and emotion our kinship is co- 
 extensive with sentient nature. But, whenever you 
 plead this fact as proof that we are limited like it, 
 by these functions and faculties — and that is the out- 
 come of the Kantian theory, no matter in what 
 technique of phrase it is expressed — then you over- 
 look the one thing that distinguishes man from sensi- 
 tive nature, and that is, the knowing, the self-determi- 
 nation, the source and origin of all that is distinc- 
 tively human upon the face of the earth. For, all 
 this, the State, the church, civil society, the family — 
 all this, the whole world of mediation, with all its 
 constitutions, laws, ordinances; its decrees, edicts, 
 obligations, rights and duties; its implements and 
 skill, in a word, the whole resources of the race are 
 
 the products of this self-determination of thought, 
 this knowing, this spontaneity. Leave this out of 
 your account, and this world is a riddle utterly un- 
 sohable. But it is this fact, this world that I have 
 to reckon with; it holds the power. It is my fate. 
 It is the thing for me to know! That other world, 
 outside of this, it is no great matter, because mere 
 matter — I know how to meet it." 
 
 "But, when you attribute that world you are speak- 
 ing of to human origin, are you not contradicting the 
 greatest authorities in the world — in both church 
 and State?" 
 
 "It may look so to you; nay, in one sense, and 
 that is the ordinary sense in which language is used, 
 I do so distinctly. Of course, it is obvious with the- 
 ories concerning human capability such as we have 
 been talking about, that this world must be regarded 
 as some excresence, some fortuitous outgrowth of 
 circumstances and conditions, destitute alike of the 
 elements of necessity and rationality; either this, 
 or as the gift of some superhuman power that, 
 in the plenitude of its self-eflficiency, has time to 
 meddle with our affairs. Either of these opin- 
 ions is necessary to account for the thing, 
 as the phrase goes, for it is here and of considerable 
 size at that. It was natural that the latter view 
 should be held by those who were in immediate con- 
 tact with that world, and who wielded its powers and 
 enjoyed its prerogatives. It was no less natural 
 that those who were not thus situated, and who were 
 well persuaded of the theories in question, should 
 adopt the former view — especially, as they could see 
 nothing but restriction, limitations and interference 
 with their natural emotions and impulses. 
 
 "But tell me, what excuse have either you or I 
 to adopt either, to entertain either the one or the 
 other of these opinions? For a people like our fore- 
 fathers, living in the enjoyment of their primitive 
 lordship over brutes, and who were lifted out of 
 that condition by external means, as the phrase in- 
 dicates, who received the higher from without — the 
 higher, even the world that we are speaking of — re- 
 ceived it, that is, did not create it from within. Was 
 their attitude of wonder and admiration anything 
 strange under the circumstances? The higher came 
 to them from without, in truth and fact. The bar- 
 barian of the forests of Europe, your ancestor and 
 mine, was not the man to be cajoled, deceived in 
 such a matter. Sword in hand, he had swept the 
 power of a world from the face of the earth; was he 
 the man to kneel down and worship the dead carcass, 
 the consequence of his own prowess? But the 
 power which he broke proved to be only the outer 
 hull, already dead, adhering but loosely to the inner 
 shell. It is this nut that contained the germ of the 
 future. It is this that comes to his descendant from 
 without. It is this that he worships — opens his heart 
 wide to receive, for more than a thousand years — 
 until it has become not merely his but him, and he 
 has become it. Then he arises from his knees, 
 gesticulates, struts and cuts capers generally. Jumps 
 
I 
 
 222 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 into the air high — high enough to crack his heels 
 together three distinct times before he touches the 
 ground — in proof that he can fly, or nearly so. 
 'School is out, now for it boys!' 
 
 "But what is all that to you and me — except to 
 know the source of the noise, the clatter, the uproar! 
 What have we to do, either with God-made kings or 
 God-made priests? We have neither the one nor the 
 other, in that external sense — in our world! Why 
 should we deny the ability of man to produce from 
 within in order to prove either that he can or can- 
 not receive from without, when he in actual fact 
 and truth does both receive and produce; when a 
 year does scarcely pass but a new state is born 
 before our eyes, out of the heads and hearts of our 
 people, and churches beget churches in broad day 
 light, until it is a mere question of years, in the 
 opinion of some, when each man will have his own? 
 
 "Is this world divine for me? Has it authority for 
 me in the nature of things, as well as in fact? Are 
 these men creating it from day to day God-inspired, 
 or are they possessed of the Devil — that is to say, 
 if such expressions are scarecrows to you, do these 
 men work in the perennial, the everlasting, or are 
 they occupied with the evanescent, of which the 
 moment spans both the beginning and the end?" 
 
 "Good-night. Henry. Write out what we have 
 talked to-night; I will read it over to-morrow and 
 ask you some questions about it — good night." 
 
 November i, 1856. 
 
 Had a visit at the shop from Mrs. F . She 
 
 was in high glee, sparkled like a gem-light pouring 
 from within and radiating from without. Had to 
 illustrate the suggestion derived from her conversa- 
 tion, the other day. I did so by placing a light in an 
 empty barrel, covering it up and then placing a piece 
 _gf mica before the bung-hole. 
 
 Found Mr. H at my room laboring over my 
 
 note of last night. He kept on reading while I 
 prepared and ate my supper. I had not quite fin- 
 ished, however, when he remarked: 
 
 "Henry, you have the greatest way of lugging in 
 expressions with meanings in their ordinary use 
 entirely foreign to your thought, that is enough to 
 confuse and aggravate the most patient listener or 
 reader. Why not stick to your own? You certainly 
 are not in want of language to express a new 
 thought in a new phrase!" 
 
 "No, usually not — if the thought is new. But, when 
 it is as old as the self consciousness of the race itself, 
 it can do no harm to remind the listener, or reader, 
 of the fact by wiping the dust and grime of centuries 
 from the inscriptions in which it has been handed 
 down to us. The truth is, when I am out looking for 
 the abiding, I am naturally a little careful not to 
 overlook the treasure I am in search of on account 
 of the unsightly appearance of the casket. That 
 casket has an outside to it which necessarily par- 
 takes of the nature of the outside as such — change 
 and evanescence. But it has also an inner, and if 
 
 we have the knack to reach that, we are as good as in 
 sight of the treasure itself. This knack, you will 
 observe, has been almost lost to public use on ac- 
 count of that wonderful discovery made by our an- 
 cestors that I referred to last night — that God is 
 within. 
 
 "By the by, Will, would you like for me to read 
 you a few paragraphs bearing on this subject? I 
 found them this morning in my scrap book,, but I do 
 not remember where I picked them up. As near as 
 I can make any sense out of them, they seem to be 
 an etching, a picture in outline, on a very small 
 scale, of the mental and spiritual condition of the 
 epoch in man's history that we stumbled on." 
 
 "Do you refer to the emancipation of the civilized 
 world from the superstitions, the priest and king- 
 craft of the dark ages?" 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 "Perhaps you wrote them yourself." 
 
 "You have no right to say so, but, let us hear!" 
 
 "Well, we'll see. 'It is true he (referring to our an- 
 cestor, of whom we were talking) had mumbled over, 
 century after century, 'God is everywhere,' but mum- 
 bled only. 'Everywhere' meant to him the outside, 
 whence he received the message — not the within, 
 too. But no sooner has he made the discovery than 
 he jumps clean over to that end of the see-saw, and 
 leaves his old tutor, poor man, with but little eye- 
 sight left, to hold down his end of the plank the best 
 way he may. As for himself, he is ready to take his 
 oath that he and his God are identical, by birth, he, 
 the individual! The old tutor in the meantime is hor- 
 rified; has heard of such a thing some thousands of 
 years ago, it is true, but, bless you, never of this 
 ancestor, of ours, the barbarian, his pupil. Recalls 
 this, recalls that — has become, in fact, a narrative 
 old man, as Homer has it. But for this assumption, 
 it is utterly preposterous! The child has gone clean 
 daft. It never occurs to him that the pupil has 
 perhaps ceased to be a barbarian. How could it? 
 Does he not remember? Of all articles of faith this 
 surely is the surest — that he is tutor, in exclusive pos- 
 session of the Divine; while that — the barbarian, his 
 pupil — is not in possession. Nay, listen to the God- 
 less wretch! See! He even attempts to hoist us 
 upon this end of the plank — plank of our own sawing 
 at that — high in mid air, for a gazing stock, a public 
 spectacle, and our clothes and things in the condi- 
 tion they are! Come, ye little ones! Come, oh 
 come, for yours is the kingdom of stupidity. All 
 these pretty things I have in the box here; just come 
 and look in. But you must hold down that plank! 
 You see those three big, graceless fellows on that 
 end are trying to keep you from seeing these pretty 
 sights!' says the old tutor. 
 
 "And graceless enough they are! See that burly 
 fellow, with huge chest, resting on the extreme end 
 of the plank! No danger that the little ones, however 
 numerous, will ever move it one inch. There it is 
 on the solid earth, clean down, and there it will 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 223 
 
 stay. Let the tutor, on his end up there, in midi air, 
 take note. Then, see the next fellow by his side, with 
 that keenly pointed, slender wand in his hand! List- 
 en, as he dissects the personal appearance of the old 
 venerable, pointing with that wand straight at each 
 feature, as he passes them in review. Just hear him! 
 
 " 'Permit me, my hearers, first, to call your atten- 
 tion to the salient points of our subject; next, we 
 will glance at the theory, for the explanation of 
 the phenomena, hitherto prevailing; and, in conclu- 
 sion, we will give the explanation furnished, by the 
 latest researches of modern science. 
 
 " 'In pursuance of this method of our discourse, 
 be pleased to look at that nose, most salient of sa- 
 lient features! You note its outline, neither Grecian, 
 Roman nor Semitic; but combining them into one 
 eclectic whole, at once extraordinary in size, color 
 and proportion! It is 'sui generis,' comparable to no 
 nose of ancient or modern times, of Asiatic, African, 
 American or European origin. Its only prototype 
 in nature is found in the vegetable kingdom, in the 
 family of — the species of — familarily known to you 
 all as the sugar beet. Observe this huge specimen 
 in my hand, peeled for the occasion, but not with a 
 knife — for that would have removed those beautiful 
 protuberances and destroyea the resemblance. The 
 cuticle, I mean the outer skin, was removed, for 
 the purpose of approximating the color of the orig- 
 inal, the only characteristic unapproachable by na- 
 ture, You will be pleased to note that the specimen 
 in my hand is bifurcated — that is to say, forked at 
 the lower or smaller extremity, or end; thus illustra- 
 ting by these gradual taperings, and gracefully diver- 
 gent, that is, curving rootlets, the eyebrows of the 
 original, from which the mighty tuberous, I might 
 say, tuberculous mass beneath is suspended, as from 
 two arches, drawn flat to a degree, by the ponder- 
 ous weight sustained. 
 
 " 'The next salient feature of our subject becomes 
 such by the want of saliency; I refer to the eyes. 
 Little is there left of these organs to speak of, ex- 
 cept the place, reasoning from analogy, they must 
 have occupied; the slight depression on either side of 
 the nose, you observe, now almost obliterated by the 
 enormous development of cheek! You will pardon 
 me if I add from report — as ocular inspection is 
 denied us — that it is alleged that these organs are 
 still there, but in a remarkably perverted because 
 inverted condition. They are said to be attached to 
 the eye-lids, the pupil thus in the rear, and directed 
 rearwards instead of in front and directed forward. 
 The reason for this peculiar formation is said to be 
 that our subject, conscious of his deserts, has been 
 expecting for some centuries past to be booted, that 
 is, kicked out of existence; and that this has caused 
 him to direct his attention exclusively to that part of 
 his physical anatomy where the impact of the force 
 applied in such cases usually takes place; and that 
 this constant use of the organs of observation, the 
 
 eyes, in one direction has resulted in the abnormal 
 development in question. They also report that 
 the organs, however, still retain some mobility; that 
 by strained exertion they can be brought to squint 
 out of the corners, or through the fringe of hair that 
 encircles the upper lids— thus proving that the eye- 
 balls must be attached to the lower and not the up- 
 per lids — if report is true. 
 
 " 'But this, my hearers, I am by no means pre- 
 pared to vouch for. All we know of this, or any 
 other subject, is what we see before us, and here 
 we have nothing but these two slight depressions, 
 mere lines, you observe, as of demarkation between 
 the flattened arches, already identified as the pro- 
 longation of the nether extremities of the inverted 
 vegetable — that is to say — sugar beet turned upside 
 down — and these two extensive planes, the cheeks, 
 swelling into gently rounded hillocks, blazing like 
 two full moons with the reflected light of the central 
 luminary, the nose. I say reflected light, upon the 
 authority of a spectroscopic analysis entirely 
 trustworthy. Indeed, the naked eye, if at all prac- 
 ticed in careful observation, will detect a peculiar 
 coppery tinge, not to be accounted for upon any 
 other hypothesis — which, indeed, has ceased to be 
 such, in view of the recent searching investigation 
 given the subject, and. the results reached, as I 
 have indicated. The subject presented difficulties 
 of great intricacy. The proximity of some and the 
 remoteness of other parts of the reflecting surfaces 
 from the source of light were causes of great per- 
 plexity. But why enlarge upon the mere historic 
 phase of the investigation! Suffice it to say, the 
 results as stated are scientific results and there- 
 fore reliable. More to the purpose would it be could 
 I give the areal extent of these surfaces; with meets 
 and bounds determined by astronomical observation; 
 but here we have to look to the future. An under- 
 taking of this magnitude has hitherto proven wholly 
 beyond the means of private scientific inquiry. Hap- 
 pily for our present purpose, we receive some assist- 
 ance in this emergency from another salient feature, 
 or, a pair of them, the ears; and the gap that connects 
 them, the mouth. If we call upon the scientific imag- 
 ination, and reason from analogy, we cannot avoid 
 reaching a strong probability that those planes are 
 not absolutely illimitable. We cannot avoid the con- 
 clusion that they are bounded to the right and to the 
 left by those ears; and, however enormous those or- 
 gans may be themselves, in hoc loco, the known laws 
 of sight will readily enable you, my hearers, to esti- 
 mate what belongs to the distance and what to the 
 thing. The former will give you the size of cheek 
 and the latter the size, form and proportion of the 
 ears. To assist you as I may in arriving at an ap- 
 proximate estimate, I will state that the authorities 
 differ in regard to the size of these latter organs. 
 Those who estimate them at the lowest figure place 
 them at one hundred thousand times the size of the 
 
22\ 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 ears of the common jackass; while those who place 
 them highest do not venture beyond five hundred 
 thousand times that size — the ear of the jackass serv- 
 ing as the unit of comparison in both estimates. My 
 own deliberate opinion, and the one I have adopted 
 in practical use, is that if you regard these two as 
 extremes, and assume a middle term between them, 
 you cannot be far out of the way. Nor is it of vital 
 consequence. A foot or two, more or less of ear, or 
 a mile or two, more or less, of cheek, one way or the 
 other, is of no consequence when we deal with the 
 magnitude of the size in question. 
 
 " 'In addition to these boundaries to the right and 
 left, ascertained with more or less hypothetical cer- 
 tainty, we are forced, by the same process of reason- 
 ing to regard that gap connecting the right with the 
 left ear, and originally the mouth, as the extreme 
 nether limit; for the territory below that line, as you 
 observe, is occupied by that beautifully rounded hill 
 of flesh, the chin, supported, or approached from be- 
 low, by mighty rolls of fat, encircling what must be 
 the neck, although the closest inspection alone can 
 distinguish it from a butcher's block, hung around 
 with rolls of sausages of huge dimensions. 
 
 " 'But here, my hearers, our inspection meets with 
 an obstacle which I feel it my duty to warn you, at 
 the outset, patience alone can overcome. Just as I 
 have omitted directing your attention to the forehead, 
 for no other reason than that the art tonsorial had 
 obliterated the vestigia of demarkation, and the ques- 
 tion whether that feature actually existed in our sub- 
 ject was of too small importance to cause us to 
 enter upon a merely speculative inquiry, so here the 
 art sartorial has rendered our progress in the further 
 survey of our subject more or less difficult. On the 
 other hand, however, we are not permitted to doubt 
 the existence of the feature we are approaching, for 
 it obliterates everything below the chin and above 
 the knees; but, because of that enormous napkin 
 which he wears, reaching from chin to shoe in front, 
 and from the nape of the neck to the heels in the 
 rear, it is because of this that our inspection must 
 await opportunity, await the services of a friendly 
 breeze to lift this screen from before the object. 
 The tops of telegraph poles, with the cross piece, 
 painted upon these napkins, are obviously intended to 
 divert attention from the peculiar bulge, which causes 
 each flap to present the appearance as if it were sus- 
 pended from more than one point of support. If 
 we permit the eye to follow the line of gravity from 
 the top downwards, you will observe that the gar- 
 ment varies from that line at an angle of a fraction 
 more than one hundred and twenty degrees — the 
 theodolite gives 120° 3' 40" as the actual mathemati- 
 cal value of the angle — down to within a foot or two 
 of the median line, horizontally speaking. Through- 
 out this whole distance it presents the appearance 
 of one side of the roof of a house, with an extremely 
 low stoop, but at this point it assumes a new line of 
 ■descent, which, if produced in either direction, would 
 
 pass through the center of the earth beneath, and the 
 zenith above, and which may, therf fore, be regarded, 
 for practical purposes, as perpendicular. What is 
 true of the front applies with equal accuracy to the 
 rear view of our subject; with the single modifica- 
 tion, as you observe, my hearers, that the apex of the 
 bulge falls as much below as in the front view it 
 falls above the median line — or perhaps a trifle more. 
 In addition to this, there seems to be also a slight 
 decrease of the angle »t which the screen descends 
 as it approaches the apex, so that the plane of descent 
 is divided into two, the angles of whose inclination 
 are of unequal value. This gives to the side view 
 of our subject that remarkable resemblance to a 
 dwelling house, as we find them in a southern lati- 
 tude, with a roomy porch in front, and rear roof ex- 
 tended so as to bring what is usually called the 
 "outhouse" under the same protection. Indeed, he 
 calls it sometimes the "Earthly Tabernacle of the 
 Holy Spirit" — apparently mindful of the resemblance. 
 "'Ah! See the effect of that puff of wind, thanks 
 to our brother, who has brought the subject into 
 a position where the elemental forces of nature can 
 assist the public eye to an unobstructed view! Where 
 surmise ends fact appears! That bulge in front is the 
 paunch, the one in the rear the buttocks — standing 
 in the relation of cause and eflfect. You gaze in 
 dumb amazement, barely able to realize for your- 
 selves the extent of the phenomenon. Yet there 
 stands the fact, and in it we have nothing but a 
 beautiful illustration of the law of nature, uniform 
 in its operation throughout the organic world, that 
 whatever organ is usedi most, that organ will attract 
 most nutriment to itself from the general stock pro- 
 vided by and for all the members of the organism 
 of which they form the parts. As a consequence of 
 this liberal supply of nutriment, the organ develops 
 into abnormal proportion, and this the more readily 
 as the access of nutriment which it absorbs over and 
 above the normal supply is withdrawn from the ad- 
 jacent or neighboring organs, which in consequence 
 are starved and thus dwarfed. Thus it happens, my 
 hearers, that the paunch before us, to mere external 
 observation, occupies the entire space usually alloted 
 to the organs of respiration, circulation and auxil- 
 iary digestion, called the chest, and causes those or- 
 gans to exist, if at all — a question to be determined 
 only by a careful autopsy — wholly in an obscured 
 condition. On the other hand, or more properly 
 speaking, from the rear view, the buttocks standing 
 in the relation of effect to the paunch as cause, in that 
 they have to void the mass of excrementitious matter 
 accumulated by the latter, share with it both the ex- 
 traordinary activity and, in consequence, the extraor- 
 dinary development. Thus we observe those slight, 
 wart like protuberances, barely recognizable, as the 
 rudimentary remains of the organs of locomotion. 
 Constant activity in the one, and utter disuse of the 
 other, readiily explain the marvel before us. Nay, 
 so persistent is this law in its operation that even 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 225 
 
 the slightest use, or a mere pretense of such, will 
 still preserve the member from absolute obscuration. 
 This, you observe, is illustrated by the arms and 
 hands of our subject. The mere handling of that 
 key, with which he fugles about, now and then, in 
 dumb show, pretending that he is going to lock or un- 
 lock something in the sky, as if modern science had 
 not taken possession of that area to the utmost 
 confines of the orbit of Uranus — has preserved them, 
 although in sadly dwarfed, unrecognizable shape. 
 
 " 'Such, my hearers, are the salient features pre- 
 sented by the subject before us. Let us now, in ac- 
 cordance with the methods of our discourse, cast a 
 glance at the theory heretofore offered in explana- 
 tion. In that theory this phenomenon is called the 
 Earthly Tabernacle of the Holy Spirit! Built up and 
 raised to the proportion, d.imensions and the general 
 appearance which we observe chiefly by fasting, 
 flagellation and maceration o£ the flesh. The accum- 
 ulation of adipose matter is explained by the term 
 fat, being subsumed under the generic term flesh, 
 and as the god delighted greatly in the sight of hu- 
 man flesh being flagellated, macerated and starved. 
 he blessed those pastimes by making them the 
 source of more flesh, so that they who furnished him 
 with this pleasing sight might have more flesh to 
 flagellate and macerate. Thus it happened that the 
 more they starved themselves the fatter they grew, 
 in compensation for starving themselves! They 
 starved, he blessed and they grew fat. It is true, a 
 difference of opinion arose in regard to the value of 
 the starving, etc. Some regarded the whole as the 
 pure grace of God, and pointed in triumph to the 
 light emitted by the countenance as direct proof of 
 the presence and grace of the spirit within; but the 
 majority handled their auxiliary appliances only with 
 more zeal. For more than a thousand years this 
 theory proved highly satisfactory, and there was 
 nothing left to explain. Nay, even to this day, 
 viewed from a high standpoint, there can be no ob- 
 jection urged to it. It is self-consistent; explains 
 the phenomenon by referring it to an adequate cause, 
 and assigns a sufficient motive for the action of 
 that cause. 
 
 " 'In the process of time, however, it was noticed 
 that a peculiar, offensive smell pervaded the atmos- 
 phere round about, in the vicinity of these earthly 
 tabernacles — for distances varying with the size of 
 the establishment. This led to discussion, pro and 
 con, as to the source of the stench; but the matter 
 was dropped for a time by those who were most 
 subjected to the nuisance as immediate neighbors 
 forsaking their houses and homes and seeking refuge 
 in foreign lands. Still, the matter could not be 
 hushed up altogether, for the public nose is itself a 
 wondrous organ; once aroused by some definite 
 scent, it invariably keeps poking about until it finds 
 the source. While this has been the case, with more 
 or less persistence, through every age of the world, 
 how could it fail to lead to results in this enlightened 
 
 day, when that member is in the firm grasp of and is 
 guided by the sturdy hand of modern science? This 
 brings us to the concluding topic of our theme, the 
 research and conclusion arrived at by modern inves- 
 tigation. 
 
 " 'Its first impetus was derived, as stated, from the 
 pervading odor; and its first fruitful conclusion was 
 that this was in direct proportion in offensiveness 
 and intensity to the size of the establishment. This 
 conclusion was based upon a series of observations, 
 continued from century to century, the field of 
 which embraced the entire surface of the world. The 
 detailed account of them, properly classified as re- 
 gards locality, time when mad.e, degree of intensity 
 observed, etc., etc., and tabulated with scientific pre- 
 cision and accuracy, fills the immense appendi.x that 
 accompanies the preliminary report of the commit- 
 tee, which consists of members of the institute in 
 charge of the investigation. From a recent perusal 
 of some of the volumes, and the number of them on 
 the shelves of the various repositories, I am com- 
 pelled to the opinion that if ever actual universality 
 can be claimed for any conclusion of science, based 
 purely upon observation, it surely appertains to this. 
 It is true, a pretended discovery was made, or was 
 pretended, to have been made, recently that some of 
 the volumes contained nothing but blank leaves, and 
 were placed on the shelves merely to swell the num- 
 ber of volumes in the final count; but the trick was 
 readily detected, by reference to the archives of the 
 institute, where the true number, 9,645.306 volume 
 folios, was fortunately preserved. This number, you 
 will please observe, my hearers, refers to the appen- 
 dix of the preliminary, not the final report; nor does 
 it include the number by which it will be necessarily 
 augmented, perhaps doubled, in consequence of the 
 trick, the attempt to discredit the entire investigation 
 referred to — its exposure and refutation. Suffice it 
 to say, that no one can devote even one lifetime to 
 the perusal of these volumes but what he will agree 
 with me that if they do not establish, by actual ob- 
 servation, the universality — called in question by one 
 Hume — of a conclusion based upon observation, 
 then it never will be established. 
 
 " 'Fortunately for the human family, a truth never 
 stands isolated, like some barren rock, or pillar of 
 salt, on a desolate plain, but is always related later- 
 ally — that is, both vertically and horizontally, to other 
 bodies of truth, which, by mutual radiation and re- 
 flection, illumine each other, until the whole group 
 is radiant with that light that compels conviction. 
 Nor was this universal characteristic wanting in the 
 present instance. 
 
 " 'The conclusion reached, you will remember, 
 was that the stench in offensiveness and intensity 
 stood in a direct ratio to the size of the establish- 
 ment; and no sooner was this momentous truth firm- 
 ly grasped by the scientific mind than, with that 
 electrical clearness and irresistible force of which 
 it alone is capable, it leaped at one bound to the re- 
 
226 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 mote and farther conclusion that this ratio could not 
 be invariable, as observation proved it to be, unless 
 the source of the stench vi^as virithin the establish- 
 ment. Of course, my hearers, this looks simple 
 enough now — like the egg of Columbus — pardon me, 
 my friend, I observe from your facial expression that 
 the mentioning of this historic relic seems somewhat 
 nauseating to you. But, the truth is, nature presents 
 nothing unclean for science! The egg mentioned 
 was necessarily nicked in the experiment in hand by 
 the great navigator. What was the consequence? 
 Access of atmospheric air to the cellular tissue of the 
 egg; and this, the insulation having been removed, 
 exposed that tissue to the direct effect of the chemi- 
 cal forces, always on the alert for an opportunity 
 to destroy the organic. Now, what could be more 
 natural than that the egg became first addled and 
 then in the process of time, decomposed; and I in- 
 troduced it here not to make my discourse offensive 
 to you, my friend, but quite the reverse — to temper 
 its odor gradually to your olfactory nerves, or your 
 olfactory nerves to its odor. It was to accustom 
 you gradually to the climax of the conceivable 
 stenches. For what, I ask, is the stench of a putrified 
 egg, even as old as the one in question? Yes, I 
 might say, what is the stench of a hundred millions 
 of such eggs, a hundred million times older than the 
 one mentioned, when compared with the odor that 
 met the investigators as they approached the moun- 
 tain of filth, of excrementitious matter, heapedp up 
 within those establishments? The merest attar of 
 roses, my friend, the merest attar of roses! We, who 
 are enjoying the beautiful results of the arduous la- 
 bor of science, have at best but a faint idea of the 
 toil involved in obtaining for us so simple a boon as 
 one poor flash of sulphurated hydrogen. What 
 wonder that we should turn up our noses at it! 
 
 " 'But I must hasten on with my theme. From the 
 
 enormous accumulation of excrementitious matter 
 confronting them, the investigators looked for the 
 source. When they beheld this, with the adjacent 
 buttocks, they at once recognized in them monu- 
 ments of immense activity, of a derivative character. 
 From this they reached the primary seat of that 
 activity, the paunch, in its wondrous ramification. 
 Still ascending, they observed, its upper margin 
 crowned with rows of fat, climbing wave-like to 
 reach the promontory of flesh, the chin. Above 
 this they found the entrepot to the establishment, 
 the gap or mouth; and so on across the plains of 
 cheek to the ears, and thence to the very apex, the 
 naked fact, the bald pate of the subject. In sum- 
 ming up their conclusion, the report says: 
 
 " 'It is the opinion of your committee from the 
 hasty investigation we have been able to give to the 
 subject, up to the present time, that the original 
 title, 'The Earthly Tabernacle of the Holy Spirit," 
 requires some modification, in order to harmonize 
 the expression with the facts established by science. 
 The appellative 'earthly' in the original should be 
 
 modified into 'earthly or earthen,' as more modern 
 and not liable to the charge of ambiguity. Next, the 
 expression, 'The Holy,' should be either omitted 
 or amplified into 'alcoholic' This would also render 
 the use of the word 'tabernacle' excessively figura- 
 tive; more so, indeed, than science can permit in the 
 statement of its conclusions. We therefore recom- 
 mend the employment of the following formula, 'An 
 Earthen Jug of Alcoholic Spirits,' as the proper ex- 
 pression for the phenomenon, when it is desired to 
 call attention to its leading characteristic, such as 
 the luminous nose, the accumulation of adipose mat- 
 ter, and the like, in the production of which al- 
 cohol has been found, to be a leading auxiliary agent. 
 But your committee does not desire to be under- 
 stood as recommending this expression for general 
 or indiscriminate use, as an adequate or exhaustive 
 designation. It is only for the subsidiary purpose 
 indicated that the recommendation is made. 
 
 " 'In the investigation of the theory upon which 
 the explanation of the phenomenon has hitherto 
 rested, it became apparent that the entire structure 
 is based on the assumption of an article called 
 'grace' as the efficient cause in the production of 
 the phenomenon. The circumstances, alleged by 
 some as being contributory, have been proved by 
 experiments, crucial in their nature (see appendix), 
 to be adverse, and their efficiency, therefore, is 
 purely hypothetical. From a careful review of 
 these experiments, your committee would state, by 
 way of parenthesis, that they cannot recommend 
 starvation and torture as practical methods, where 
 the object to be attained is to store up adipose 
 matter in a vital organism, or even where the well- 
 being of that organism is the object in view. The 
 results of these experiments can leave no doubt 
 upon the scientific mind that the assumption of the 
 article called 'grace' as the efficient cause is the 
 sole foundation for the theory in question; and your 
 committee recommend a modification in the spell- 
 ing of this term by the insertion of the vowel 'e' 
 before the 'a,' and by inserting the consonant 's' 
 after the latter vowel in the original, so that 'grace' 
 may read 'grease.' This recommendation rests upon 
 the fact that astromony has failed to find in space, 
 geography on the surface of the earth, geology in 
 the structure of the earth, chemistry in the sixty- 
 two elements that constitute the aggregates of air, 
 fire, earth and water, an article anyway analagous 
 in its operation, or alleged appearance, to the 
 thing called 'grace.' Nor have the cognate branches 
 of science been more successful in the organic 
 sphere, all of which abundantly appears from re- 
 ports given in the appendix. Indeed, science in its 
 entire scope, both natural and, >f the expression 
 may be allowed, unnatural, with all the resources 
 at its command, has utterly failed to identify this 
 alleged cause. But the recommendation of your 
 committee does not rest upon this negative con- 
 clusion, however great the presumption in its fa- 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 227 
 
 vor. Happily for science, it is no longer in a con- 
 dition to rest its conclusion upon mere negative 
 results. But, as in the present instance, where the 
 existence, or the nonexistence, of an alleged cause is 
 called in question, it fortifies its negative evidence 
 with the irresistible force of affirmative fact by pro- 
 ducing the effect to be accounted for from causes 
 wholly within its resources and control, and thus 
 renders the alleged cause not merely hypothetical 
 and doubtful, as to its existence, but wholly super- 
 fluous. In the matter in question, analysis has de- 
 monstrated that the effect to be accounted for is 
 the accumulation of grease in an organic body. 
 Science, in accordance with its well-known prin- 
 ciple, that like produces like, attributes this effect 
 to its appropriate, efficient and exclusive cause — 
 grease! 
 
 " 'The abnormal enlargement of ears, and want 
 of cranial development in the subject, so admir- 
 ably treated in the physiological report, is happily 
 accounted for by the extraordinary demands made 
 upon these organs when employed in eaves-drop- 
 ping in every quarter of the world at once and a 
 consequent absorption by them of the cranial de- 
 velopment to which they are attached. 
 
 " 'In conclusion, your committee would recom- 
 mend the reference of the results obtained to the 
 Technological Department, with a view of determ- 
 ining how far the important industry of soap manu- 
 facturing might look to this source for supplies of 
 raw material in the future; and, in order to bar all 
 claims of priority, they especially reserve to them- 
 selves the right of recommending in their final re- 
 port the adoption of the expression, 'Soap Grease 
 Factory,' as the appropriate and exhaustive desig- 
 nation, to the exclusion of every other, when the 
 phenomenon is referred to in its entirety." 
 
 When I had finished, after musing for some time, 
 
 Mr. H remarked: "Well, and what objection 
 
 have you to the report, what amendment to suggest 
 that it should not be received unanimously?" 
 
 "None in the world! But I read it only as a speci- 
 men, to call your attention to the actual state of 
 affairs, to the debate, the see-saw in progress, with 
 a view to asking you the question — what chance is 
 there under the circumstances for any continuity 
 of interpretation of forms of expression? Tower of 
 Babel, confusion of tongues! Bless you, man, what 
 is that to the chasm between thought and no thought? 
 Between Greece, Grace and Grease? Between 
 Greece, Alexandria and the European forest prime- 
 val? Between Apollo, with the Muses nine, and Thor, 
 with his hammer? You interpret only the known, 
 and the process by which the latter becomes 
 adequate to receive has many stages, and at each 
 it is firmly convinced, must be so, that it is already 
 adequate. In addition to this, the past expression 
 itself ceases to be adequate. In the presence of 
 growth and development, the literal becomes sym- 
 bolic, prophetic only; true as germ, but untrue as 
 realized, as adequately expressed truth." 
 
 "Don't, Henry! Don't jump off to a new difficulty. 
 Do let us come to a clear understanding of the first, 
 before we look forward. As I gather from your dis- 
 jointed talk, quotations and readings, you mean to 
 say that a great truth realized by human thought, 
 two thousand or more years ago, suffered in its 
 transmission from age to age, and from peoples to 
 peoples, such injuries as to its external form that 
 its own authors would not recognize it; and that it 
 requires rediscovery, re-expression, before it can be 
 of service to the age in which we live." 
 
 "Yes, and you might add that every generation 
 must rediscover, revivify for itself, the results of 
 all its predecessors, and that is the root of the dif- 
 ficulty and of the misunderstandings that grow 
 around the subject. Nay, if we were to take this 
 into consideration perhaps we might want to move 
 an amendment to the report of the committee to 
 which we listened a moment ago, especially as re- 
 gards that proposed reference of the results obtained 
 to the Department of Technology." 
 
 "Why, on what account?" 
 
 "Prematurity! It might be regarded a little prema- 
 ture for such a reference. If it is true that each 
 generation has to rediscover the intellectual achieve- 
 ments of its predecessors, in order to revivify them 
 for itself, it seems to me that would imply that man, 
 to-day even, is born a barbarian, just as he was a 
 thousand years ago; and in that case he would know 
 as little, and as much, naturally about the world into 
 which he is born as he did then; and he might need 
 all the appliances, not perhaps in the same form, 
 that he ever did. But as you say, I expect we might 
 gather some such conclusion as you mention from 
 what I said, although if you think it over again, 
 you might find even more than that; you might also 
 find the reason for it, which I am not always in the 
 habit of nominating as something that needs to have 
 attention called to. I simply take it for granted 
 that it is the reason for and of what is that we are 
 after. 
 
 "I did not try to intimate that the thought of our 
 race, as developed two thousand years ago in Greece 
 and Alexandria, had suffered obscuration in its trans- 
 mission to a barbaric people, our ancestors; not 
 merely through the inability of that people, in their 
 original condition, to receive it, but also through the 
 situation in which those who brought it to them 
 were placed; that this situation led, to a perversion 
 of the results of that thought, not as a matter of 
 design, not of malice of forethought, but by the facts 
 of the day, as they compelled recognition. They 
 came as teachers to a barbaric people. They adopted 
 methods and employed means dictated by the pur- 
 pose to be accomplished, together with the circum- 
 stances under which that purpose had to be accomp- 
 lished. These means and methods were transmitted 
 from generation to generation and, in process of 
 time, surpassed In importance the end the accomp- 
 lishment of which gave them existence. In the 
 meantime, that end, the transmission of the highest 
 
228 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY, 
 
 results of human thought to a barbaric people, had 
 not been left altogether behind. In proportion as 
 the teacher laid more and more stress upon his 
 means and methods, the people outgrew them, until 
 debate ensued. In this debate it appears that the 
 teacher himself has forgotten the thing he was sent 
 to teach — except in so far as it formed part and 
 portion of the means and methods, the mere ex- 
 ternalities in question. But all forms are necessarily- 
 obscured if the spirit that created has abandoned 
 them. They are food for powder — food for the 
 insatiable appetite of that spirit itself. Because — " 
 
 "No, Henry, don't. I will grant that form as such 
 is hull! Just follow the thought you were develop- 
 ing." 
 
 "Well; that being the case, the pupil has an easy 
 time of it in maintaining his side of the question, 
 but, in the meantime, what is that debate to you or 
 me? A last year's bird's nest! What concern have 
 we with the question whether the means and 
 methods employed to transmit the highest results 
 of human thought to a barbaric people were true or 
 not? That people has ceased to be barbaric — as is 
 witnessed by the fact of the existence of the debate. 
 We need not listen to what the debate has to say! 
 
 "What were and are the results of thought that 
 were transmitted, that have wrought this change? 
 That have changed that people from a barbaric horde 
 into the nations that to-day hold in their hand the 
 sceptre of power over the earth? Was this change 
 wrought by virtue of, or despite the thought trans- 
 mitted? These are the questions, it seems to me, 
 that are of interest, for they alone will give us an 
 insight into the inside of the world that concerns 
 you and me — the world that wields that power." 
 
 "You everlastingly return to the same point. Noth- 
 ing seems worthy of consideration but that." 
 
 "Nothing but that! As the first at hand. You 
 see, that world endowed me with rights and preroga- 
 tives while still in my mother's womb; and, as I 
 entered the light of day, it received me right royally, 
 as a person — as a being of consequence! It had 
 prepared for my advent. All things necessary for 
 my existence were at hand, and over me, helpless, 
 but one remove from the inane, it stood majestically, 
 sword in hand, denouncing death and destruction to 
 all and each that should dare with intent or purpose 
 to interfere with my being. Thus it helped me to in- 
 fancy, through infancy to boyhood, from boyhood to 
 youth, and from youth to manhood — assisting, guid- 
 ing, guarding my every step. And now, with man- 
 hood's early prime, it places that sword in my hand. 
 From the assisted, guided, guarded, I am called to as- 
 sist, to guide and to guard; and how can I find time 
 for other inquiries until this so wondrously strange 
 existence, that claims me as its own, is transparent, 
 is Icnown to me?" 
 
 "Well, you have succeeded in enticing me back 
 again into your Circe's Garden. But — " 
 
 "You don't mean to insinuate that my room is 
 Circe's Garden? Have you forgotten your Homer?" 
 
 "Forgotten my Homer? And where does Homer 
 come in?" 
 
 "When he describes Circe's Garden! But, I see. 
 You have not forgotten, you merely have never read 
 your Homer!" 
 
 "But, Henry, I did not want to lose the thread of 
 our talk. You seem bent on jumping off at every 
 side path from the main road. At every bush, tree 
 or old stump you have to stop, and with the slightest 
 opportunity you switch around it and are off in the 
 woods. We started with the simple question, why 
 you should use old expressions for new thought! 
 You answer, we ought not if the thought is new. 
 You then start ofif to illustrate how the expression 
 of thought becomes obsolete, and the thought itself, 
 the meaning of the expression, lost, by citing the 
 conflict of that thought first with barbarism and 
 then with science; and while doing this, you always 
 keep your eye fixed upon the one question you have 
 at heart — the explanation of the world created by 
 man, as you call it. Now, why not give me the 
 thought itself that your illustration seems to assume 
 has existed, show its identity with the thought you 
 express, and the whole question is resolved." 
 
 "But, whose fault is it. Will, that I don't — yours or 
 mine? The steadiest of teams can be spoiled by a 
 driver that doesn't know 'ge' from 'haw!' Who asks 
 these questions that refer merely to subsidiary or 
 collateral matters? I'm not reading to you a dialogue 
 by Plato, in which the speaker has a certain set of 
 dummies to talk to, who cannot give an answer, or 
 put a question, except such as will suit the purposes 
 of the author! It is you who makes me talk, not I 
 you. I am the instrument you play on. If the 
 time, movement or melody of the tune doesn't suit 
 you, please mend your fingering!" 
 
 "Well, I don't know but that there is something in 
 what you say; and I think we had better drop the 
 subject for this evening, with the understanding that 
 I will think the matter over and be prepared to ask my 
 questions with some degree of system when we 
 meet again. I begin to be interested in the matter, 
 and should like to get your sincere opinions — what- 
 ever they may be." 
 
 "All I have. Will, are at your service — but one thing 
 you must always remember, and that is, that we are 
 talking about these matters!" 
 
 "What do you mean by that? Of course, we are 
 talking about them. But. what's the difference, 
 whether we are talking or writing about them, so we 
 understand each other?" 
 
 "No diflference that I can see. But, there might 
 be a difference if we could let these matters them- 
 selves talk. In that case, you see, there would be 
 less danger of misapprehension, no middle man, as 
 it were — we would look the matter itself in the eye 
 and listen to what it had to say for itself." 
 
 "That would be an excellent contrivance, if we 
 could make sticks and stones talk! But, I am afraid 
 that with all the inventive genius of the age, it will 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 229 
 
 be some time before the patent office will have to 
 pass upon a device of that kind." 
 
 "I think it likely, although perhaps not for the 
 reason that you do. You seem to think it too dif- 
 ficult, while I regard it as too insignificant. The 
 sticks and stones could only tell us what they are, 
 and man has contrived to find that out, but we were 
 not talking about sticks and stones, we were talking 
 about the thought of the human race, and to it 
 speech is not an accomplishment to be acquired; it is 
 bone of its bone, and flesh of its flesh — doesn't exist 
 without it. When I said '"t these matters themselves 
 talk, I did not say make them talk, as you seem to 
 have understood. There is no necessity for that. 
 Human thought is not without speech. The thing 
 wanted is listeners. The matter that I wanted to call 
 your attention to was that in reflecting upon the 
 subject in order to prepare or arrange your question, 
 you might not overlook this point, as it will make all 
 the difference in the world in the outcome. You 
 see, if we talk about human thought, we have all the 
 world before us; nothing comes amiss; we can go 
 with becoming dignity from heaven through the 
 world to hell — as the poet has it — or, with a hop, 
 skip and a jump, from hell through the world to 
 heaven. On the other hand, if we have to listen to 
 human thought, give voice to its speech, our caprice 
 is gone, our smartness amounts to nothing, for the 
 time being; it has the floor, as they say in parlia- 
 mentary language. We are listeners until it is done, 
 no interrupting the speaker, as it were." 
 
 "But, who cares for such a speaker? Who wants 
 to listen under such rules of procedure?" 
 
 "Who cares for such a speaker? Most assuredly, 
 human thought doesn't. Who wants to listen? Nobody 
 that I know of. Under such rules of procedure? I 
 did not prescribe them. I only read them. There 
 they are, and such is the cunning contrivance of the 
 auditorium that it enforces obedience to these rules, 
 automatically. Infringe them even in thought, ever 
 so slightly, and you hear nothing but gibberish." 
 
 "Well, Henry, let us drop the matter for to-night. 
 You know — but no, I have not told you — I'm going 
 to stay with you. I mean I have concluded to remain 
 In St. Louis, and we shall have abundant opportunity 
 to pursue these matters further. In the meantime, 
 how would you like to listen to a wise man from the 
 east? I understand Mr. Alcott, of Concord, will be 
 here to lecture or deliver conversations, and I should 
 like for you to meet him. He is an original, and is 
 looked up to by such men as Mr. Emerson. I have 
 heard him and don't know what to make of him. 
 Will you go if I make the arrangements?" 
 
 "Certainly, if he talks at night. But, Will, I am 
 glad you are going to stay with us. It will remind 
 me sometimes of the days when I lived in a world 
 of froth and fiction, and thought it a heaven on 
 earth, wholly oblivious of the fact that it was created 
 out of mist. But have you made any practical en- 
 gagements?" 
 
 "Yes, and no! I have a position, yes, more than 
 one offered to me, but am undecided which to accept, 
 or whether to accept any. I sometimes feel that I 
 ought to devote the next years to come to study 
 exclusively, especially when I talk with you and see 
 with what empty stuff I have filled my mind and 
 and wasted my time." 
 
 "Are the positions offered in your profession?" 
 
 "Both in and out. I can go into a banking house 
 or take an important position on the press. What 
 do you think is best? Take either, or ought I to 
 devote my whole time to study? But, of course, you 
 will advise the latter course." 
 
 "No. My advice is, stick to your profession. Life 
 viewed from its practical side resembles the crossing 
 of a ditch with a running jump. To stop, after 
 you have made the run, will lose you the impetus 
 gained. Every day's exertion, in a practical vocation, 
 renders its task easier for the day that follows, both 
 by skill gained and habit acquired. Then, as to study. 
 Nothing will assist you more in filling the empty 
 stuff, as you call it, which you have accumulated with 
 meaning than a vocation in life earnestly, cheerfully 
 followed. It furnishes at once a content for the 
 forms we acquire in youth, and also the measure by 
 which we can judge of the value of these forms, 
 especially a vocation so nearly akin to the general, 
 to life in its totality, as the press. Of course, what 
 is true of every function of civil society is true of 
 this; the higher it stands, the more general its scope, 
 the baser it becomes in its perversion; and the more 
 injurious to individual character. This, however, is 
 not inherent in the function, but in the abuse of it. 
 To guard against that, you have manhood. Your 
 danger, as I take it, is glitter, but without it there 
 would be no light, and a desire for the one, if 
 intense enough, will inevitably result in the other. 
 The applause of the groundlings alone will soon 
 satiate, and to command that of the gods, become 
 a necessity. In addition to this, there is room here. 
 Virgin forests abound in every direction, where you 
 can carve your name in the finest of trees, and see 
 the letters become bolder and bolder from year to 
 year; you need not use a barn door, or the door 
 of some other outhouse, for that purpose, as some 
 have to do, in the crowded centers. Considered from 
 any side, I think, your resolution is a wise one; 
 only go to work to-morrow morning, don't wait 
 until next day." 
 
 "I will do it, Henry; and to-morrow evening I shall 
 call and we shall go to hear Mr. Alcott." 
 
 November 2, 1856. 
 
 Lost all the evening listening to Mr. Alcott. No, 
 
 it was not a clear loss, for the man is clean — in the 
 
 sense that he avoids the mud. "A remarkable case 
 
 of reversion," said I, on the way to my room, to the 
 
 eager questions of Mr. H . 
 
 "What do you mean, is he not original?" 
 
 "Yes, if the re-appearance of Ammonius Saccas, 
 
230 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 that is, Ammonius the sack carrier, the peddler, as 
 we would say now, can be called original." 
 
 "But, who is Ammonius Saccas?" 
 
 "An Egyptian, found.er of the Neoplatonic 
 philosophy, who lived in the second and third cen- 
 tury of our era, died in the year 243. He loafed 
 around Alexandria, like the great Grecian assump- 
 tion hunter, Socrates, had loafed about Athens, some 
 five or six hundred years before, and talked with 
 people that had nothing else to do but gas and 
 listen to others gassing. It was a favorite way 
 of communication between man and man, almost the 
 only way at the time, for, while they had a written 
 language, it was only written; they had no printing 
 press to render the printed word accessible to all. It 
 
 is appropriate that Mr. A should revive, or 
 
 attempt to revive, this infantile method, because of 
 the matter he has to communicate! This itself is as 
 old as the method and as capable of meeting the 
 wants of the day." 
 
 "And you mean to say that Mr. Alcott is not 
 
 original, in both thought and action?" Mr. H 
 
 asked, as we entered my room. 
 
 "He is simply odd in both, and original in neither. 
 Egyptian mummy wrappage is not a new invention, 
 and the walking of the streets of Boston or Concord, 
 habited in such toggery, may attract attention, but 
 is hardly calculated to set a new fashion. The thing 
 of interest is the appearance of the man, when and 
 where he lived, and whence he came. If you reflect 
 upon that, it will indicate how utterly the spirit, the 
 meaning has been lost, out of the forms employed 
 to transmit it. Remember this man is no idle 
 visionary, nor a frivolous notoriety hunter. He is 
 simply a sincere and earnest man, who has found the 
 solutions of life's mysteries, propounded to him in 
 the sacred places, unsatisfactory; and is striving to 
 find and utter what his soul craves. He was told, as 
 we were, that God made the world, in the first six 
 days of the year one, according to Moses; that, in 
 doing so, He meant well, but that somehow the things 
 did not run exactly to suit Him, and He sent His 
 only Son to straighten matters out. That His Son 
 found a hard job of it, and had finally to submit to 
 an ignominious death, in order to accomplish His 
 mission, and that even then, it amounted only to a 
 saving of a very small per cent of the investment. 
 Now, this answer was no answer to him, any more 
 than it is to you or to me; and he has burrowed 
 'round until he hit upon some fraction of the works 
 of lamblichus, or even Plotinus, perhaps. The latter 
 was a pupil of Ammonious Saccas, and the former 
 a disciple of Plotinus; and from them he has picked 
 up a part of the philosophical idea concerning the 
 universe, as it was subsequently developed into much 
 more concrete form by Proclus. Thus, in attempt- 
 ing to deal with the question — how is multiplicity, the 
 multiplicity of objects that present themselves to 
 our intelligence, derived from unity — the subject of 
 his discourse to-night — he adopts the theory of 
 
 emanation, which we find in these authors — that is 
 to say, in Plotinus, as opposed to the theory of 
 evolution, held by others, who state from what they 
 suppose to be the diametrically opposite pole." 
 
 "How is that?" 
 
 "The emanationists commence with the One, which 
 they call God, but wholly inscrutable, wholly un- 
 known and unknowable. They proceed, however, to 
 describe, and every description ends with 'but He is 
 more than this.' From this unsayable, unknowable, 
 they predicate, conceptively, of course, that is, by 
 figures of speech or imagination, as the very term 
 'emanate' shows — a resultant, an effect, very nearly 
 identical with the One, not quite, but very nearly so — 
 as you heard to-night. From this second, a third is 
 derived, in the same way, and of the same character — 
 that is, a little lower, not quite up to the excellence 
 of its cause, the second, and so down, from God-head 
 to atom." 
 
 "The opposite theory, or what takes itself for 
 such, also starts with unity, and evolves thence the 
 multiplicity. They call it matter, however, and are 
 quite certain that their first is the very opposite of 
 the first of the emanationists. With them the wholly 
 formless eventuates in a cell, the cell in a bunch of 
 cells, and so on up to man." 
 
 "But, what is the difficulty of the view presented 
 by Mr. Alcott?" 
 
 "There is no difficulty about it except when you 
 commence to think of it; and then it amounts to noth- 
 ing, as you can see for yourself. They start with 
 the One, unknowable, inscrutable. Of course, con- 
 sistently they ought to stop right there, for what 
 can be deduced from the unknown? But, they pro- 
 ceed to regard it as the cause of a second, a little, 
 a very little, less than the first. It is important to 
 make the difference as small as possible, or the 
 student might gag at it, and the theorist would not 
 have an opportunity to get in his graduation, observa- 
 ble in the multiplicity presented for explanation. You 
 see, in deference to the old assumption, that like 
 begets like, the two, first and second, ought to re- 
 semble each other like two peas from the same pod; 
 indeed, the more they are alike the better — as we 
 heard to-night. The difficulty, however, is they 
 differ by the full diameter of the universe — are as 
 unlike as difference and identity themselves. For, 
 we are told that one is self-existent, primordial 
 being, and. the other is created, derived being; their 
 resemblance, therefore, is like the resemblance be- 
 tween independence and dependence; the resem- 
 blance that differs by all the difference there is. With 
 one bound we whiz down from God-head, the un- 
 created and self-existent, to atom, the derived, the 
 created; and our beautiful fabric of gods, demi-gods, 
 angels, men, down to mud, vanishes in thin air — and 
 that is what we got for our evening's time. For, 
 Mr. Alcott has not even read the man whose opin- 
 ions he tries to peddle about; that is to say, he has 
 not mastered the thought of the period in its entirety. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 231 
 
 He has picked up the weak side, the conceptive forms 
 by which those thinkers endeavor to bridge over the 
 chasm between unity and multiplicity, for which 
 Plotinus, for example, uses among others the image 
 of a spring, the source of rivers, itself undiminished — 
 in all their crudities and is utterly lost in the mazes 
 of their fancies. Had he applied himself and swept 
 the deck, as we say in steamboat phrase, got to the 
 bottom of the thought of the school he has stumbled 
 ■on, seized that thought in its matured forms, as 
 expressed in Proclus, he would have recognized the 
 shaft where the fathers of Christian theology dug 
 the gold for their forms of 'God, Father, Son and 
 Holy Ghost.' But, instead of that, he revels in the 
 miraculous theology of lamblichus, as we see it in the 
 life of Pj'thagoras by that author." 
 
 "But what about the other theory, evolution. It 
 doesn't present any difficulty, does it?" 
 
 "Oh, no! It only begets something from nothing! 
 That's all. Matter, the formless, eventuates in mind, 
 absolute forms, of course, by degrees; like the other 
 arrives from absolute form at the formless. Both 
 are theories in an eminent degree. They account for 
 a circle by drawing a straight line. Whence this 
 water? From the river. Whence the river? From 
 the spring, away up yonder! You see, it is the nature 
 of water to run down hill; now, away up yonder 
 there is a spring, and out of that the water boils, and 
 then runs down hill all the way until it passes your 
 door. How long has it been running down hill? Oh, 
 nobody can tell. Always! Always, that is a long 
 time! I wonder why it has not got all down by this 
 time? 
 
 "We live in Asia, and see a mighty stream boiling 
 out of the earth. We follow down its course, and 
 the farther we go the less it becomes, until it is 
 ■utterly lost in the sand. But, our neighors live in 
 Europe. They too see a river born, only it is a mere 
 brooklet. But, following down its course, they 
 observe it is increased by additions from without. 
 The farther it flows the larger it grows, until the 
 brook becomes a stream, and the stream a mighty 
 river, with the commerce of nations on its bosom. 
 
 "Both see the mighty stream of things of Heracli- 
 tus, and each applies to it the images which he has 
 picked up from his surroundings. But, do they 
 answer the question? The stream runs down hill, 
 but why has it not got there by this time? How does 
 it happen that it keeps on running? 
 
 "Ah, I see. The water, some while running down 
 and some after it gets down is etherealized, arises in 
 the form of vapor, and is lost in air. In this form 
 it envelopes the globe, and, by what we call the 
 meteorological process, it, from time to time, that is 
 constantly, now here, now there, changes back again 
 into water. Of course, I see now why it keeps on 
 running down hill, because I see how it gets up there, 
 and this too answers the first question, whence the 
 water. I see it, as a factor, result, consequence, or 
 ■whatever name I apply to it, of a process, an integral 
 
 of a whole, of a circular activity, in which it is both 
 cause and effect, ground and consequence, end and 
 means! It was in this sense that the thinkers of 
 Alexandria — not its miracle mongers, who thought, 
 because they heard their masters teach that the Di- 
 vine is within man, that therefore they must endow 
 their masters with all the fabulous performances 
 which the imagination is so fond of attributing to 
 the Divine — stood by the stream of events and 
 change, as seen by Heraclitus. They used the picture 
 of the stream, of emanation, of radiation even, for 
 the transition from unity to multiplicity, it is true, 
 but they were far from stopping there. They were 
 masters of the thought that had. preceded them, from 
 the One, the being of Parmenides, to the One, of self 
 conscious thought — the thought that thinks itself, of 
 Aristotle. To them the stream of events was not 
 the squirt from a box-elder instrument, in the hands 
 of a big boy, but a section of the self-dependent, 
 self-sustaining process of the universe. All the dia- 
 lectic of Plato is at their command, and with signifi- 
 cance such as even Plato himself never saw in it. 
 They were in possession of every element of the idea, 
 its resolution from ideality into reality, and from 
 reality back into ideality; what they did not have was 
 its logical form — the form through which it alone 
 seizes and compels conviction. If Mr. Alcott had 
 penetrated to this thought, he would not be peddling 
 emanation theories with Pythagorian dietary no- 
 tions, and cut up shines, such as are reported of him, 
 as a member of society and a citizen of the State. 
 I do not mean to say that he is reported even as a 
 bad man — but as one who does not see his place 
 in the institutional world of man, and denies that 
 there is one for him — he, such an extraordinary re- 
 version! He would have seen — " 
 
 "What? I am curious to know. Don't stop." 
 "No, I only wanted to find a note which I penciled 
 down some years ago, when I studied these authors! 
 Oh, here it is. Shall I read it?" 
 "By all means, if it is pertinent to the subject." 
 "You can judge of that, after you hear it. It says; 
 'Philo, the Jew, was born twenty years before Christ, 
 and outlived the latter. He was distinguished for 
 his knowledge of the Platonic philosophy, and his 
 method of interpreting the Old Testament, that is, 
 the sacred book of the Jews, by allegoricalizing the 
 text as a vehicle for Platonic thought. This method 
 was subsequently followed by the fathers of the 
 church, in regard to the life and thoughts of Christ, 
 as recorded in the New Testament. Instead of Pla- 
 tonic, however, they drew the thought from Neo- 
 platonic sources, chiefly from Plotinus and Proclus. 
 They precipitated events into thought, and thus made 
 the latter typical of human life, the thought they ob- 
 tained as stated, and fitted the events to it. It was 
 in this way that the one obtained reality, and the 
 other significance, commensurate with the highest de- 
 velopment of the race. The process up to that time 
 had been for thought to create its own events. 
 
232 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 through the life of specially chosen disciples. But 
 now the life of all human life as such became the con- 
 tent, and the thought of the race its exposition and 
 guidance. The one life of Gallilee, in its birth, renun- 
 ciation, death and ascension, at first typifies and then 
 becomes the process of the universe: First, in its 
 self-determination, diremption, negation, signifying 
 the birth, the eternally begot Son; secondly, the ne- 
 gation of this negation, the renunciation and death 
 of this Son; third., the absolute affirmation — the as- 
 cension into spiritual existence of the Son. 
 
 'This viewed as the life and being of the Son of 
 Man, the second Adam; Adam Kadmon — that is, man 
 as such — man generically, and we have human life 
 in its significance as a factor of the process. 
 
 "This life begins in an off nature, the unconscious, 
 the external, the spacial, the side by side, the out- 
 side of itself, the other as such, the negative of 
 spirit. Its function in the process is to invert this, 
 to negate this negation. From unconscious to trans- 
 form it into conscious, and thence through self-con- 
 sciousness into spiritual being, into pure knowing; 
 to turn the external into the internal, the spacial 
 into ideality, the negative of spirit back into spirit. 
 Hence, the doctrine of total depravity, that man is 
 not by nature as he should be; of redemption 
 through Christ, of a triune god — all these are mere 
 correlation of the philosophical idea, which the 
 fathers of the church derived from the Neoplatonic 
 philosophy, and interpreted into the New Testament 
 Scriptures, as Philo interpreted Platonic ideas into 
 the Old." 
 
 "Who says this? From whom are you reading?" 
 "Who says this, in so many words? Nobody, that 
 I know of — in thought and fact every history of 
 human thought, if it deserves the name, will furnish 
 you the data, from which you will have to say it. 
 From whom am I reading? From myself; from 
 memoranda whjch I made when I was studying the 
 development of thought in the world. It was my 
 habit to drive down stakes, here and there, into the 
 ground, in order not to lose myself in the subter- 
 ranean workings of this mole, whose hills are visible 
 enough on the surface, for they constitute what are 
 called the events of history, but whose workings are 
 not quite so readily followed." 
 
 "And you think Mr. Alcott would have seen this?" 
 "How could he have helped but see it? And not 
 only this, but he would have seen that the world 
 as then existing — the world into which the idea was 
 born — the Roman despotism, was doomed. Nay, be- 
 yond that, he must have seen how this idea created 
 could not help but create Its own world out of and 
 upon the ruins which it caused, and the barbarism 
 which it found;; its own world into which, he, Mr. 
 Alcott was born — a world called by those who furn- 
 ished the ground plan 'The Kingdom of Heaven,' by 
 way of contrasting it with what then was the 
 Roman world. Had he possessed himself of the 
 whole thought, instead of the defective expressions 
 
 of one phase of it, he would have recognized in the 
 triplicity of function established by the constitution 
 of his own world, the executive, legislative and judi- 
 cial, quite a recognizable feature of the idea, even 
 if only in an external way, and in the instrument it- 
 self something else than 'a league with the devil and 
 a covenant with hell'. Just imagine a Caligula in the 
 audience, how he would have shouted 'and damna- 
 tion' in redundant emendation of the phrase! And 
 yet we could not have blamed the big boy with the 
 squirt gun; he was the embodiment of squirt gun 
 theories, and what else is the idea to him but damna- 
 tion, utter and dire damnation! He would also have 
 seen — I mean Mr. Alcott, not Mr. Caligula — in civil 
 society something more than a mere fortuitous ag- 
 glomerate created by 'an innate tendency to truck,' as 
 Adam Smith has it — he would have seen a rational 
 organization, through which the individual becomes 
 generalized, through his own act and deed — his 
 single insignificance into the significance, his poverty 
 into the resources, his caprice into the freedom of 
 the race. He would have seen each work for all and 
 all work for each, without riding antediluvian, com- 
 munistic abstractions!" 
 
 "How do you make that out?" 
 
 "I mold my skillet. In doing this I am task- 
 master and employer of the tailor who cuts and sews 
 my garments, the spinner and weaver who furnishes 
 the cloth, the collector and producer of the fiber, the 
 raw material that enters the cloth. I also employ 
 the shoemaker who makes my foot gear, the tanner 
 and finisher who furnishes the leather, and the pro- 
 ducer of the hide, of the tan bark, lime, hen guano, 
 oil, tallow, lampblack, used in converting it into leath- 
 er. The farmer sows, plants and harvests for me — 
 whether in Asia, Africa, Europe, Illinois, or Missouri; 
 whether he raises corn, wheat, rye, barley, oats, pota- 
 toes, beans, peas, pumpkins, water or muskmelons; or 
 cotton, sugar, coffee or tea; lemons, oranges, pine 
 or other apples, pears or plums. The common car- 
 rier transports, the huckster peddles, the banker 
 makes exchange, the builder builds, the butcher 
 butchers, the baker bakes, the cook cooks for me — 
 of course, just for the present, I do this latter 
 myself. 
 
 "Then, I have another set of employes, busy in- 
 ventorying for me what there is to be found upon, 
 within, under and above the earth. And another 
 set to weigh and measure what is found. Still 
 another set to look into earth, air, fire and water, to 
 see what they are made of. Then, the artists to show 
 what they were intended to be." 
 
 "Stop, man! If all these are your employes, how 
 do you manage to keep them to their task?" 
 
 "In the simplest way in the world — even by at- 
 tending to my own well. For, while I am taskmaster 
 for all of these, for productive industry as a whole, 
 I am such only in so far as they are taskmasters for 
 me; now, if I fail to attend to my own task well, 
 they will not buy my ware, and I stand discharged. 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 233 
 
 both as employe and employer. But, as long as I do, 
 as long as I produce not what I want, but am gov- 
 erned by the common, the general purpose, I have 
 them. They take my ware, they employ me, and, in 
 turn, I step into the market and pass sentence by 
 choosing or rejecting as suits my wants, am em- 
 ployer in my own person. In this way, and for this 
 reason, the thing is self-sustaining, a rational whole, 
 in which each member is both end and means; and 
 every unit is permeated by the common purpose — ■ 
 self-perpetuation. 
 
 "Now, how could a man, with a mind not occupied 
 with squirt-gun theories, or, 'innate' nonsense, look 
 at such an existence, when it is in actual being — 
 when he himself lives, moves and has his being in, 
 through and by virtue of it, without recognizing in it 
 a realization of the idea; the idea which human 
 thought has found, as underlying, or creating every 
 organic existence, and the universe first of all? You 
 will observe how busy the thing is throughout! 
 Each unit attending to its own affairs, and the whole 
 to nobody else's. Then, the completeness of the 
 thing — no overseer, no outside interference, auto- 
 matic accuracy throughout." 
 
 "But, what about that big fellow, with the sword, 
 the Government?" 
 
 "Don't you see the legend he keeps pointing out 
 with that sword — 'Here you reap what you sow!' 
 That is it. That is the bodily presence of the com- 
 mon purpose. Yonder, it is present in each unit 
 only — they are all actuated by this purpose, and in 
 that sense it is the general purpose. Each seeks 
 to perpetuate himself, but himself only! Now, this 
 common purpose, as such, as common, as the purpose 
 of the community, realized into independent actuality, 
 is the Government — your fellow with the sword, 
 pointing to that legend, 'Here you reap what you 
 sow!' All of it, no less, no more. 
 
 "You observe, this helps wonderfully. It guaran- 
 tees to me the result of my endeavor, and clears the 
 way between me and my purpose of perpetuating 
 myself by my endeavor. You also observe that he, 
 the big fellow, has no purpose of his own to carry 
 into effect, is only the purpose of the community; 
 and that is the reason I said, no outside interfer- 
 ence, no overseer, but guard only. The embodiment 
 of the purpose of the community, he always says 
 'We,' in mediating the individual with the general 
 purpose. It is a chain, the one — many, made of many 
 links — not the string on which pearls are strung, 
 that requires the heart of the jewel to be pierced. 
 Take away the links and there is no continuity left!" 
 
 "Good-night, Henry. We will tackle this again; I 
 must to the office now. You know I am harnessed, 
 and not roaming at large. I will be over to-morrow 
 afternoon, to study for an hour or two. Good- 
 night." 
 
 November 3, 1856. 
 
 Rented out the two last floors of my house, this 
 morning, to a person recommended by Mr. O. D. 
 
 F , a widow of remarkable business tact and 
 
 energy of character. She was left with three small 
 children, comparatively destitute, by the untimely 
 death of her husband, who lost his life by the explos- 
 ion of the boilers of a steamboat, on which he was 
 employed at the time as mate. She has managed to 
 maintain herself and little ones by letting furnished 
 rooms to gentlemen; and the oldest children, two 
 boys, are already beginning to assist her, so that her 
 "darkest days are over" — as she expressed it, with a 
 cheerfulness that is infectious. 
 
 Received a letter from Mr. Fromme. He is de- 
 lighted with the plat of the village, especially with 
 the sites for seminary, church and parsonage. Have 
 sent him the power of attorney, with blank forms 
 of deeds, so that the business will not get tangled; 
 and the people will not be delayed in their building 
 operations. It is remarkable with what avidity man 
 seems inclined to trust his fellow, the moment he 
 has^the slightest foundation to put that trust upon. 
 The parson reports that there are three houses being 
 built in the village upon lots which the persons 
 building them have no title to, nor even the promise 
 of one. The contingencies of life and death even 
 are lost sight of, or ignored, so that they may enjoy 
 the luxury of placing unlimited confidence in a fel- 
 low being. 
 
 Mr. H called and seemed to have prepared 
 
 himself to put me through a course of sprouts. 
 
 "From your notes, Henry, I gather that you think 
 the ancients had discovered the true solution of the 
 riddle of the universe, in assigning self-conscious in- 
 telligence as the final cause of the aggregate of ob- 
 jects that present themselves to our minds for 
 explanation. You call this the philosophical idea, 
 and maintain that it was recognized by the Neo- 
 platonists of Alexandria, and thence filtered, or 
 carried into the forms of Christian theology, by the 
 fathers of the church. That, partly through the 
 church, and partly through the various forms of 
 communication between the east and the west, it 
 took possession of Europe, and created what is 
 ordinarily called the Christian civilization, which in 
 its power dominates the earth to-day. Now, I infer 
 from this that you also hold that we cannot under- 
 stand that civilization unless we possess ourselves 
 of the idea that gave it existence, and the question 
 that has suggested itself to my mind is, how can 
 we do that?" 
 
 "When we want to possess ourselves of the mathe- 
 matical idea, where do we go?" 
 
 "To Euclid, and from him through Descartes down 
 to our own day." 
 
 "Certainly. And how about the idea of art — where 
 do we go for that?" 
 
 "To Homer, Hesiod, Anacreon, Sophocles, Aeschy- 
 lus, Aristophanes, for poety; to Phidias and his 
 school, for sculpture, and to the lonians, Corinthians, 
 etc., for architecture." 
 
334 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 "Yes; and where do we get the logic taught in 
 our colleges?" 
 
 "From Aristotle, of course." 
 
 "There is nothing remarkable then in the circum- 
 stance that we should have to go to the same quar- 
 ter for the philosophical idea, which is nothing more 
 than the consciousness of all of these various forms 
 of intelligence — is there?" 
 
 "No, nothing remarkable. But my question is, has 
 that been done, and if so, by whom?" 
 
 "It has been done, but as far as I know, by no 
 English writing man or woman. Understand, I do 
 not claim to be an authority on the subject, I only 
 mean that if there are books of this kind, in our 
 language, they have escaped my inquiry. Under- 
 stand further, that I am speaking of the philosophi- 
 cal idea as such, expressed in its own form, the 
 form of thought as such, and not of that idea in the 
 conceptive forms, which the intelligence of the day 
 finds inadequate, and is and, has been calling in ques- 
 tion, during the last one or two hundred years. 
 For some twelve to fifteen hundred years these 
 forms were all that the intelligence of our ancestors 
 demanded, but in the sixteenth century a question 
 arose — " 
 
 "By whom, and what was the nature of it?" 
 
 "By one of the men you mentioned just now, as 
 having elaborated the mathematical idea, Descartes, 
 to whom we owe analytic geometry. Up to his 
 time the thought of our ancestors was satisfied 
 with these conceptive forms, and busily engaged to 
 support a preconceived opinion. Hand me that scrap 
 book there, please. I think there is description in 
 there of the method in vogue up to that time, that 
 cannot be improved upon. Ah, there it is — 
 
 "The main point is, that all the talkers, the Greeks 
 who have become Christians, no less than the 
 Islamites (Mohammedans) in founding their princi- 
 ples did not follow the nature of things, or derive 
 anything from that source, but only kept in view 
 what the nature of things ought to be, in order to 
 support their assertions, or, at least, not to contradict 
 them; then afterwards they claimed the facts were 
 thus and so, and supported this with reasons and 
 principles, however irrelevant they might be. They 
 only asserted what supported their opinions, no mat- 
 ter how remotely, even if derived, through a hundred 
 consequences. This was the method followed by the 
 learned, and then they asserted that they arrived at 
 their results purely through investigation regard- 
 less of preconceived opinions." 
 
 "From whom did you copy that?" 
 
 "From Moses Maimonides, a Jew, who lived in the 
 twelfth century in Egypt. He describes the method 
 in vogue, which proved satisfactory up to the time of 
 Descartes — although there had been some heat 
 lightning upon the mental horizon, now and then, 
 more or less significant. But, Descartes demanded 
 certitude; and this the conceptive forms cannot give. 
 He sweeps the mind clean of every content, and 
 
 then places himself at the door, and demands the 
 authority of whatever presents itself for entrance — " 
 'No entrance here except upon presentation of certi- 
 ficate satisfactory to the undersigned' — is the motto 
 on the lintel. And, you will observe, how universally 
 that motto has been adopted by the thinking portion 
 of mankind. Certitude — the principle that has 
 validity for me, must approve itself before the 
 tribunal of my conviction. This is the attitude. 
 
 "As a sample of the certitude demanded, he says 
 'Cogito ergo sum' — I think, therefore I am. I can 
 abstract from everything but not from the abstractor. 
 I can abstract, but I must be before I can. He keeps 
 this as a sample, as a standard of comparison. 
 'Everything to which I accord validity must be as 
 certain to me as this,' says he. 
 
 "He does not proceed to convert this certitude into 
 truth through the activity of thought, that is — 
 as might be expected; but proceeds, sample in hand, 
 so to speak, to examine the pile of rubbish out of 
 doors, to see what, if any of it, can be entertained 
 under the cond,itions announced. Here he comes 
 across a piece from the eleventh century, known as 
 the ontological evidence, or proof of the existence 
 of God, gotten up originally by Anselm, Archbishop 
 of Canterbury — to the effect that 'The human mind 
 contains the conception of the greatest.' This con- 
 ception vouches for the existence of its object by its 
 size; for if the object did, not exist, the conception 
 would not be the greatest, as the mere conception 
 of an object is less than the conception and the 
 object. This, in his judgment, passes muster, and 
 he adopts it as true. 
 
 "But the attitude he has assumed is the thing — 
 not what he sees in that attitude. It is this attitude 
 that is assumed by the spirit of the age, and Mr. 
 Descartes' seeing is reviewed from that attitude. It, 
 the spirit of the age, proceeds to say — 'We have the 
 conception of the greatest. Is it true? Does it 
 correspond with its object?' That is the question. 
 You say, it must be true: first, because we have it. 
 Agreed, in the sense that we find it in that lumber 
 garret, usually called consciousness. So did the 
 ancient Egyptians, and applied it to a cat — that was 
 the greatest for them. Second, it is true because it 
 is the greatest, and if you take away something, it 
 is not. 
 
 "You assert then that the conception, as such, will 
 be lessened or augmented by the existence or non- 
 existence of the object; but how can that be, unless 
 they are identical, the very thing to be proven. You 
 cannot lessen or augment one genius by the exist- 
 ence or non-existence of another. Here is the con- 
 ception. There is the object. For the conception 
 to be true, it must have an object to correspond 
 with; and for the object to be true, it must corre- 
 spond with a conception. The conception does not 
 become less, or greater, by the existence or the non- 
 existence of the object, but it becomes true or 
 false; and the object does not diminish or swell up 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 233 
 
 in size for the want o£ this correspondence — but is 
 nugatory. 
 
 "Again, we have the concept greatest, perfect, 
 highest and the like; we have, but are they necessary 
 ones? And this question is not answered by saying 
 we find them in our consciousness — as was supposed 
 by the first laborers in the field, who applied them- 
 selves to inventory our possessions of that kind, 
 such as Locke and Kant. Nothing short of a final 
 analysis of human knowing is demanded, to answer 
 this question." 
 
 "But, how could, that determine whether the given 
 concept is a necessary one?" 
 
 "In the same way, I imagine that Mr. F 
 
 determines what material, implements, skill and labor 
 are necessary to accomplish his purpose — the making 
 and marketing of stoves; or, in the same way that 
 the builder of a steam engine determines the various 
 parts of the machine, and the relations which they 
 sustain to each other, in order to realize the purpose 
 to be acocmplished by the machine. 
 
 "You've been in our shop. You have seen that we 
 make hundreds of stoves every week. Now, suppose 
 the pieces of plate, out of which these stoves are 
 finally put together, were all thrown into a pile, 
 indiscriminately, just as they come from the foundry 
 — do you think all the work done, up to that stage, 
 would be lost?" 
 
 "No. I don't think so." 
 
 "But, what could we do with that pile of plate?" 
 
 "You would set men to work to sort it out, I 
 suppose." 
 
 "What do you mean by sorting out?" 
 
 "Put like with like." 
 
 "Precisely. We would set men to work who 
 could distinguish the various pieces that go to make 
 up the stove, the one from the other, and tell them 
 to put each kind into a pile by itself. This you 
 observe would be analyzing the confused heap into 
 its constituent parts — into as many piles as there are 
 pieces in the stove, and t"he eye of the mounter, the 
 man whose business it is to put the .stoves together 
 out of these pieces, could tell at a glance whether 
 all the pieces which he needs for the stove, that are 
 necessary for his purpose, were there or not. He 
 would know this, because he knows the purpose that 
 each piece subserves in producing the final result — 
 the stove. He would see what is wanting, what is 
 necessary, because he sees the final purpose. It is 
 by this knowledge, and by it alone, that he determines 
 whether the piece in his hand or under his eye is 
 necessary or not. Now, I apprehend that when we 
 speak of a conception, or generally, of a determination 
 of the mind, and want to find out whether it is a 
 necessary one or not, we have to proceed very much 
 in the same way that the mounter does. We find 
 the object in question, ordinarily, in the confused 
 heap called human knowing. This ought, first 
 of all. to be analyzed into its constituent elements. 
 Nor has that cunning fellow that I referred to. the 
 
 spirit of the age, been unmindful of this. Mr. Des- 
 cartes had no sooner placed himself in that attitude, 
 than various persons were set to work to sort out 
 that heap into something like order; because, you 
 see, it became important, as none of this lumber could 
 obtain credence, entertainment, without credentials, 
 to do something by way of supplying these. Of 
 course, these people were guided in their work by 
 mere resemblance, mere external likeness, as you ex- 
 pressed it — putting like with like." 
 
 "But, what evidence, what guarantee did they 
 furnish that they had sorted out the whole heap?" 
 "Their word!" 
 
 "And, did the different parties agree, as to the 
 number of piles into which they sorted the mass?" 
 
 "No, some had more and some had fewer in num- 
 ber—as it happened that one saw differences which 
 the other overlooked," 
 
 "But, what benefit could your wonderfully cunning 
 fellow, the spirit of the age, derive from such work? 
 How did this tend to bring order out of confusion?" 
 "Well, I suppose that is his business, chiefly. But, 
 you observe, the instructions which he gave were 
 more or less indefinite. Indeed, he himself had none 
 to give. All he had was what he received from 
 Mr. Descartes, and that was a mere attitude — the 
 attitude that the creditable must show itself to be such 
 to him; that it can have no value, nor the slightest 
 pretense of authority for, or power over him, until 
 it has complied with this condition. 'For,' said he — 
 'Are we not all born free and equal?' That is the 
 conclusion he, not Mr. Descartes, drew from this at- 
 titude. Now, because this or that proves itself credit- 
 able to Mr. Descartes, or to Mr. Anybody Else, that 
 cuts no figure; it must do so to me; for I too, am a 
 man. Because Mr. Descartes finds it creditable that 
 the conception is increased or diminished by the 
 existence or non-existence of its object, it doesn't 
 follow that it is creditable to me. My conception 
 of a dollar — he used a hundred in his argument, but 
 one will do as well — is as perfect whether I have a 
 dollar or not. The conception as such is not 
 aflfected by the presence or the absence of the dollar, 
 in or from my pocket-book — as is abundantly illus- 
 trated by the fellow who sells me a dollar's worth of 
 garden truck. He has the conception in his mind, 
 and I have the dollar in my pocket. If he finds that 
 the money which I offer him corresponds with the 
 conception, he takes it. If it doesn't, he hold.s fast to 
 his conception, and it is no trade." 
 
 "But, how is he going to get out of this attitude? 
 He stands there perfectly empty handed, has thrown 
 everything out of doors, not a utensil, not an imple- 
 ment left. How is he going to keep house, with all 
 his spiritual furniture, church, state, civil society, 
 family, all gone?" 
 
 "Yes, and not merely in thought, as with Mr. 
 Descartes, for the sake of argument, we might 
 say— but in fact, in hitter, earnest, bloody fact; for, 
 however absurd this fellow, this spirit of the age. 
 
236 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 may appear, or seem to conduct himself, there is 
 nothing frivolous about him. He is always in earnest, 
 does nothing for the sake of argument merely — but, 
 as to his attitude, and how he is going to get out of 
 it — my impression is, that he has not got out of it, 
 and is not going to get out of it, in the sense that 
 he will abandon it. That is one of his peculiarities; 
 he never takes anything back. 'We are all born 
 free and equal' — let come what may! Is not that 
 your conviction?" 
 
 "Of course, it is. But, when you say that the spirit 
 of the age had thrown everything out of doors in 
 fact, did you refer to the French Revolution, the 
 beginning of which was characterized by Goethe on 
 the field of Valmy as the beginning of a new era?" 
 "Yes, and you observe the poet's date. Descartes 
 assumed his attitude 1644, the field of Valmy was 
 fought 1792 — only one hundred and fifty years be- 
 tween the thought and the fact. How loose or 
 rotten the soil must have been, in which the old 
 mole worked, to reach such a distance in so short a 
 time! One hundred and fifty and fifteen hundred! — 
 For fifteen hundred years the spirit of the age has 
 mumbled to himself — as our friend has it — 'God is 
 everywhere' — and labored to build his world accord- 
 ingly; when lo, it occurs to him that authority 
 supreme rests within! Yes, in that hitherto despised, 
 there and there alone — and takes measures to demon- 
 strate that such is the fact — demonstrates it, to the 
 satisfaction of one man, at least, the poet at Valmy! 
 By the by, have you noticed the circumstance which 
 the poet gives, that led him to see the conclusion? 
 Please hand me the 28th volume of his works there, 
 and I will read it to you; it is well worth noticing — 
 here it is. 
 
 "'Thus the day had passed; the French stood im- 
 movable — Kellerman, too, had assumed a more eligi- 
 ble position; our people had been withdrawn out of 
 fhe range of fire, and everything looked as if nothing 
 had happened. The greatest consternation spread 
 through the army. Even this very morning nobody 
 thought of anything but that the French, every man 
 of them, as they stood there, would be literally de- 
 voured; yes, the confidence in such an army, and in 
 the Duke of Brunswick, had even enticed me to 
 take part in this dangerous expedition; but now 
 everybody looked askance with eyes averted, not at 
 his neighbor, and if it happened it was only to swear 
 and curse, at this or that. We had, as night ap- 
 proached, accidently formed a circle, in the centre of 
 which not even the usual fire could be lighted; most of 
 us were silent, a few spoke, and yet all wanted de- 
 liberation and judgment. Finally they called upon 
 me, what I thought of it — for, I had usually en- 
 livened the company with short sayings. This time 
 I remarked: 'From here and to-day commences a 
 new epoch in world history, and you can say that 
 you were present.' 
 
 " 'During these hours, when nobody had anything 
 to eat, I reclaimed a bite of bread from the loaf, 
 
 which I had acquired this morning. There was also 
 left of the wine, so freely spent yesterday, the con- 
 tents of a small whiskey flask, and so I had to re- 
 nounce entirely the role of the welcome miracle- 
 worker, which I had played so bravely around the 
 fire on that occasion.' 
 
 "Yes, a bite of bread with a mouthful of wine, and 
 that for the poet exclusively; not a crumb, not a drop 
 for that outfit there in harness! F.nough, you see, to 
 open, the eyes of any poet — especially if he were 
 even then attached to Faust. But, this is not answer- 
 ing your question — I mean, the main one — how is he 
 going to get out of this attitude?" 
 
 "Henry, let us reserve that for tomorrow. I must 
 be off for the office; good-night. I will be up earlier 
 to-morrow." 
 
 November 8, 1856. 
 
 Received a painful injury, a burn, last Friday, while 
 pouring off, and have not been able to note down 
 anything on account of the pain, until this morning. A 
 ladle burned through; that is to say, the lining of 
 clay which protects the iron pot, called a ladle, from 
 the molten metal had an undetected defect, and 
 permitted the latter to come into contact with the 
 former. This occurred at the moment when the 
 molder, carrying it, was passing me in the gangway, 
 and a stream of liquid metal struck me on the left 
 leg, a little below the knee. I was protected] by 
 heavy woolen trousers, worn especially to guard 
 against such accidents; still a mass of the metal, not 
 more than a spoonful, however, found its way into 
 my shoe. How this occurred it is difficult to say; 
 but, no doubt, the instantaneous jerk, or leap, by 
 which I sought to avert the greater danger of stand- 
 ing in a pool of molten iron, exposed me in some 
 way to the injury received. It struck me on the 
 instep, on the left side forward of the ankle, and has 
 caused a deep burn, some three inches long up and 
 
 down by fully an inch and a half wide. Mr. F 
 
 came over with me to my room, where Fritz and 
 Jake brought me, and sent home for one of his 
 servants to wait on me. The pain was savage, and 
 prevented sleep up to Saturday noon. At ten o'clock 
 
 that morning Mrs. F came down to see me 
 
 with her husband, and before they left, Jochen came. 
 
 "It is a luxury to stumble, or even to fall, when 
 
 kind hands spread bolsters of down to receive us" — T 
 
 remarked, in reply to words of sympathy from Mrs. 
 
 to 
 
 "Yes, and it is all that I can do, Mr. B — 
 restrain my impatience when I see you in this room. 
 But I will not scold you. You are suffering enough. 
 Shall I send you our doctor?" — she replied, 
 
 "No. He can do nothing but what has been done. 
 If I did not know this, he might be of service, but 
 I know it, and the worst is over. Opiates I cannot 
 use; my system rebels against them, and I have 
 remedies to withdraw my attention from the pain, 
 independent of opiates, as soon as it is no longer 
 overpowering in its effects. It may be that I shall 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 237 
 
 need him in a day or two, when the wound will 
 permit a judgment as to the extent of the injury 
 to the organs of motion. This I cannot determine at 
 present with accuracy, nor can he; but, my impres- 
 sion is that they have escaped, and if that proves to 
 be correct, there is nothing in it but a little care and 
 patience. Of course, I shall be confined to my room 
 for some days, but then I have my mind here with 
 me, and therefore no lack of work." 
 
 "And therefore, independent of friends to care for 
 you!" she replied. 
 
 "Yes, if necessary! But such care is so welcome, 
 so sweet, so dear, even to the man who has become 
 such, from a youth in utter isolation, in utter destitu- 
 tion of even one hand to clasp in his — without one 
 eye to reflect back his own heart's yearning — • 
 who now cannot be pinched without a dozen friends 
 crying 'ouch!' 'You hear that!' I added, as a step 
 on the stairway announced a new comer. It was 
 Mr. OlfE. As he entered he greeted the lady in a 
 courtly manner, which contrasted so strongly with 
 the awkwardness of Jochen; then he inquired, in his 
 monosyllabic way, about the extent of the injury. I 
 explained to him the location and external character 
 of the wound. He lifted the lint dressing from the 
 toes and moved the big one up and down several 
 times. He watched the effect and asked — 'Are you 
 restraining yourself, or is there no increased pain 
 when I move the toe!' I told him that the injury 
 was too far on one side to involve the leaders of that 
 member, but that the two last toes could not be 
 moved without causing great pain. 'I will come back 
 in the morning!' he said, and bowed himself out of 
 the room, but reappeared, a moment later, and 
 asked whether I would accept his company during 
 the night. I thanked and told him that I supposed 
 Mrs. F and Mr. H.-P would decide that." 
 
 After consultation it was agreed, to my satisfac- 
 tion, that Jochen would stay with me by himself. 
 
 This settled, Mrs. F asked, "Have you sent 
 
 word yet to Miss Elizabeth?" 
 
 "No, I have not. I had nobody to send, and I 
 dared not to write, because the pain was so great 
 that I feared it would express itself and alarm her 
 unnecessarily. But if — well, never mind, I will send." 
 
 "No, you will not. Why don't you finish the 
 sentence? You wanted to say that if I would be so 
 kind as to bring her, you would be happy! But I 
 can do that without being asked; and will, just to 
 make you feel ashamed of your room!" 
 
 "That is right, dearest, you make him feel ashamed 
 of the only thing he has good reason to be proud 
 of, his ability to be content with the humblest of 
 means" — remarked Mr. F . 
 
 "You hit it, Mr. F ; Diogenes, when he enter- 
 tained Alexander of Macedon, could be certain that 
 it was not the fine house and furniture his visitor 
 came to see and enjoy, but purely and exclusively 
 him; he was the party visited, and that was more than 
 Alexander could say to himself in his throne room 
 
 as "Conqueror of the World." Each, you see, had 
 conquered the world in his own way, the one affirma- 
 tively, the other negatively — the one by putting it 
 into his pocket, so to speak, and the other by turning 
 his pocket inside out. To the one it was the all; 
 to the other, the nothing! It was a happy thought 
 to bring them together, and not without meaning, 
 iif we had the knack to see it. Stand out of my 
 light, oh world! Don't obtrude between me and the 
 eternal radiance — that is all. Were I not Alexander, 
 I would wish to be Diogenes — surely! Could I not 
 render that world transparent, see that radiance 
 through it, I would want to push it to one side! 
 
 "You just stop preaching until I get back, Mr. 
 
 B ; I will not be gone long" — said Mrs. F , 
 
 and a few minutes later her carriage rattled out of 
 hearing. I rode with it for some distance until Mr. 
 
 F recalled me with the question — "Henry, have 
 
 you entered that land yet for Mr. Witte, at your land- 
 ing?" 
 
 "No, I have not thought of it; it slipped my mind 
 entirely — that is strange, and the matter is of im- 
 portance, too." 
 
 "Well, never mind, I have attended to it for you. 
 I was at the office, some days ago, and saw that you 
 had forgotten it, and entered the half-section in your 
 name. I also picked up what there was left, any odd 
 pieces in the prairie, in the neighborhood of your set- 
 tlement. How much good land is there in the bottom, 
 between the river and the bluff, I mean; is it cut up 
 with sloughs, or is there only the one you have 
 bridged?" 
 
 "I don't know, Mr. F , but Jochen, there, can 
 
 tell you all about it. He has hunted there, when 
 he worked for Mr. Pheyety, and he knows more 
 about bottom land than anybody else — he is my au- 
 thority on that, as Mr. Witte is on bluflf, and Mr. 
 Kulle on prairie land. They don't pretend to know 
 much, but I notice that what falls in their way, the 
 world, as far as they have to deal with it, they know 
 thoroughly." 
 
 "How is it, Mr. H.-P ? I mean the bottom 
 
 for a mile or two above and below the landing?" 
 
 "You mean the whole bottom for that distance, 
 clean back to the bluflf?" 
 
 "Yes, say for two miles north and south of the 
 road." 
 
 "That is more ground than I have been over. I 
 have been up and down the slough for some four or 
 five miles, and for that distance it keeps almost in 
 sight of the road that we drive to Mr. Pheyety's; 
 but I have been over very little of the ground be- 
 tween it and the river. I think it is about the same 
 as you see on either side of the road to the river." 
 
 "And how does that look to you. Don't you think 
 it is good farming land?" — asked Mr. P . 
 
 "There is none better anywhere. It costs some- 
 thing to get it in order, but when it is cleared and 
 free from stumps, I wouldn't give one acre of it for 
 five of any prairie that I ever saw — I mean for raising 
 
238 
 
 A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 everything. I don't know about wheat. If they can 
 cut that with horses, then it may be different, but 
 bottom-land like that is good enough for me." 
 
 "Would it be possible for you to go down there, 
 by the first of next week, and look it over for me and 
 Henry? Things have suggested themselves to me 
 
 that I want to talk to Mr. B about, as soon as 
 
 he gets on his feet again, and I should like to know 
 the character of that land." 
 
 "I can't go until Henry can spare me — or until 
 I can take him home with me. As soon as I can do 
 that, I am ready," said Jochen. 
 
 "But we can take care of Henry!" replied Mr. 
 F . 
 
 "Yes, I know. But that isn't me. I can't leave 
 him as long as he can't help himself. No, I can't," 
 he said, and left the room to get some water. 
 
 "What a strange compound of stubbornness, com- 
 mon sense, and kindly affection that man is, when 
 he is with you. I suppose there is not a human 
 being on earth that can do anything with him but 
 yourself," remarked Mr. F . 
 
 "You think him perfectly pliable to me?" 
 
 "Yes, he would do anything for you!" 
 
 "Anything but surrender his conviction, and that is 
 as open to you as it is to me. But he has a shrewd 
 way of guarding the road to it. He may adopt my 
 judgment in preference to his own, in doubtful cases; 
 but that is only on condition that he has found it 
 superior on actual trial had. Within his horizon he 
 is clear-sighted, deals honestly with the facts, and is 
 apt to test the eye that he is going to trust beyond 
 that horizon, upon objects within it, in order to 
 reach the measure of confidence it deserves from 
 him. I do not mean that he does this consciously. 
 He does it like he eats his meals, not because he has 
 figured out that it would be best for him to do so, 
 but because his nature craves food. I am very much 
 'obliged to you, however, for entering that land for 
 me. I don't see, I can't understand how I came 
 to forget all about it. I would not have missed it 
 for treble its value; it would have hurt Conrad's 
 feelings so, to think that I could forget a matter 
 that concerned him personally." 
 
 "But, Henry, are you not talking too much? How 
 does your foot? Doesn't the pain worry you?" 
 
 "Not when I am talking, when my mind is oc- 
 cupied with something else, and don't keep quar- 
 reling with nature while she is repairing the injury. 
 The more I talk, the better for me, unless I could 
 go to sleep, and somehow, I begin to feel a little 
 drowsy, owing to the fact, no doubt, that your kind- 
 ness and the sympathy of you all have diverted my 
 attention." 
 
 He took hold of my right hand, passed his left 
 gently over my forehead, and I dozed away into a 
 deep sleep — at least I supposed so, for he faded away, 
 and was replaced by the presence of my beloved. 
 My hand rested in hers, my temples throbbed to her 
 touch, and her eyes bathed my heart with the radi- 
 
 ance of purest affection. I lay as if in a trance. 
 Still, I saw the deep, still eyes of Jochen bent on me 
 from the foot of my cot, and the blithe form of Mrs. 
 
 F gliding noiselessly about my chamber, as if 
 
 occupied with cares for my comfort. 
 
 "You have had a good rest, my darling" — whis- 
 pered Elizabeth — as her lips met mine. "Could you 
 sleep some more?" I closed my eyes to shield the 
 vision, not deeming it real; but when her heart 
 throbbed against my bosom, and her tears bathed 
 my cheek, I awoke to the reality of my dream. I 
 clasped my beloved close, close to my heart, and 
 time with its phantoms vanished. 
 
 "Do you think, Mr. H.-P , that we three 
 
 could move him on his cot, into the next room?" 
 asked Mrs. F , in a loud whisper. 
 
 "Yes," was the answer, "if he don't go to sleep 
 again." This recalled me to the surroundings, and I 
 asked, "How long have I slept, dearest?" 
 
 "Some six hours. It is fiv6 o'clock," she answered. 
 
 "Yes, and I think you have been playing 'possum 
 
 for the last half hour," said Mrs. F . "But 
 
 come, Mr. H.-P , you take hold of the head of 
 
 the cot; Miss Elizabeth and myself can carry this 
 end. It is getting late, and I want to see him com- 
 fortable before I go home." 
 
 AVith this they carried me bodily into the next 
 room. This was furnished with reckless extrava- 
 gance. I do not know how she managed it, but 
 every convenience was at hand. A magnificent 
 double bed stood in a recess, or alcove, and by its 
 retired position, and luxurious furniture, invited to 
 repose. A bureau, with writing apparatus, table, 
 wash-stand, toilet articles, chairs — in short, every- 
 thing that the most petite weakling of luxury could 
 desire stood ready at my service. Jochen, after 
 placing my cot in the position that I indicated, 
 walked up and down the room a time or two, then 
 stopped and said: 
 
 "Henry, Mr. Witte and the Mr. Pastor were here, 
 but I did not want to disturb you. They are down 
 stairs; may I call them up?" 
 
 "Yes, Jochen, I would like to see them." 
 
 When he left the room, Mrs. F remarked, 
 
 "Now, Mr. B , we have been with you nearly 
 
 the whole day, and it is time for us to go. You 
 feel comfortable, don't you?" 
 
 "Yes, I thank you! But when will you be back?" 
 Let me see — you say "we." Yes, that is so, and I 
 will be here alone!" 
 
 "No, Mr. H.-P will be with you, and at six 
 
 o'clock Mr. H. , too, will be back! He was here 
 
 three times this afternoon! You will have more com- 
 pany than enough!" 
 
 "Yes! But both of you will be gone! Let me 
 see, will you be so kind as to send for your hus- 
 band? Please tell him I should like to see him, at 
 once. We must manage to persuade one of you, at 
 least, to stay with me." 
 
A MECHANIC'S DIARY. 
 
 239 
 
 "What are you dreaming about, Mr. B ; aren't 
 
 you awake yet?" 
 
 "Partly; as much so as I ever expect to be in 
 my life. What I mean to say is, that by six o'clock 
 I propose to get married to Miss Elizabeth Robert- 
 son, if she has no objections. I should like to send 
 for her father, but he lives too far away; but I 
 have his consent and blessing" 
 
 "Are you in earnest?" asked Mrs. F , while 
 
 Miss Elizabeth hid her face in my bosom. 
 
 "Yes, in bitter earnest." 
 
 Here we were interrupted by the steps of the gen- 
 tlemen coming upstairs. As they approached the 
 door, the two ladies withdrew to the adjoining room. 
 
 After kindly greetings, and words of sympathy, I 
 explained to my friends my situation, and in conclu- 
 sion requested the minister to perfprm the necessary 
 service. He consented, with the remark: "You are 
 right, my son, and God will bless your resolution. 
 It is in hours of affliction that He sends us rehef in 
 the sympathy of those we love." 
 
 "Yes, Henry, yes; you can never do a wiser thing. 
 For a man to live alone is not to live at all. We 
 
 are made that way, Henry, and He who made us 
 knew best," said Conrad Witte, pressing my hand 
 with a friendly grasp and with a tear in his eye. 
 
 While still talking, Mr. H.-P. came in with Mr. 
 F . and I explained to them what the conver- 
 sation was about. This set Jochen wild. 
 
 "Narren tant. Sonny! You get well first, and then 
 you will have a wedding. Yes, at my house; Feeka 
 has everything ready for it. Yes, it is all right; 
 you must be married at my house. You can't cheat 
 us that way; Feeka will never let you do that!" 
 
 "Well, Jochen, we shall not cheat you out of the 
 wedding. We shall have it as soon as my foot gets 
 well enough to dance. But in the meantime— see, 
 is that Mr. H ?" 
 
 Jochen opened the door and Mr. H came in. 
 
 After greeting the persons present, he fondled and 
 wept over me like a woman. When he became com- 
 posed I told him my purpose, and requested Mr. 
 
 F to bring in the ladies from the next room. 
 
 He returned with them, one on each arm. I arose 
 to a sitting posture in my bed and the pastor per- 
 formed the ceremony. 
 
 THE END. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 III II 
 
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