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LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
IN MEMORY OF
STEWART S. HOWE
JOURNALISM CLASS OF 1928
STEWART S. HOWE FOUNDATION
818
W6ow
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.RMY AND MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES.
2 -
“Watxks Azsout Cuicaco,”
ArmMY AND MISCELLANEOUS SKETCHES.
BY
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(Boliuto.)
Crit ierA. GeO:
PRESS OF CHURCH, GOODMAN AND DONNELLEY.
1869.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the 5
BY FRANC B. WILKIE,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the Not he
Illinois. :
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‘* WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO.”
WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO:
CONTENTS.
A TRIANGULAR WALK ;— Nord Seite — Southside
— Westside, -
WATER-WORKS AND WATER-FALLS,
Court-HouseE Guost,
A WALK IN THE FALL, -
ORPHEUS IN HADES,
THe MALE SorosIis, <
How To QuiIT SMOKING,
MILL ON THE PRAIRIE, -
GOING TO THE MATINEE,
THE OLD MAN’s SMOKE,
Tue Drop CurRTAIN AT AIKEN’S THEATRE,
THE CoLpD VICTUALS CONTEST,
GLANCES AT SUMMER RESORTS:
MACKINAW, - -
SAULT STE. MARIE, -
LAKE SUPERIOR, -
NIAGARA, - -
IN THE COUNTRY, -
SARATOGA, - >
GREEN MOUNTAINS,
87
96
106
=i TOG
If3
6 Contents.
ARMY AND OTHER SKETCHES:
A BoHEMIAN AMONG THE REBELS, - - - 123
Pap FULLER’S GAME OF POKER, - - - 140
RECOLLECTIONS OF GEN. FRED. STEELE, - - 148
SOME PEOPLE I HAVE MET, - - - 158
Some REMEMBERED FACES, - - - - 164
A REMINISCENCE OF THE WAR, - - - 170
* A DESPERADO WHO WOULD NoT STAY KILLED, - 179
AMONG THE GUERRILLAS, - - z = 189
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF ALLATOONA, - - 196
THE REVELATIONS OF A WINDOW, - - - 206
A REVELATION OF CLAIRVOYANCE, - - - 215
»A LEAP-YEAR ROMANCE, - - . : 224
Tue Horrors oF MAsonry, - - - =1 225
A DREAM AND How IT WAS FULFILLED, - - 238
GETTING A DRINK UNDER DIFFICULTIES, - - 252
A Morar CounTRY PLACE AND ITS PEOPLE, - 261
BICYCULAR AFFECTION, — - - - - 1273
ALL Asout A WoMAN, - - - - 279
A Ripe To DEATH, - - - - - 284
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE Known, 301
WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO.
A TRIANGULAR WALK.
NORD SEITE.
eae TIT geography, customs, productions, peo-
{| ple, and so forth, of a new country, are
always full of interest.
Once, when I was traveling about, I
reached a place known among its inhabitants as
‘Nord Seite.” I spent some time there. I found
much to interest a traveler.
Nord Seite is situated in about the same latitude
as Chicago, and is about 10} degrees of longitude
west of Washington. Its population is about 60,000.
To reach it from Chicago, one can take rail to
New York; thence go by steamer to Alaska, véa
Cape Horn; from Alaska south to about the 42nd
parallel ; thence east by stage and rail, 2,000 miles,
to Nord Seite.
Nord Seite has an immense body of water on one
side, and a river whose main stream and one branch
inclose two of the remaining sides. Nord Seite is,
therefore, a sort of peninsula.
The river referred to is deep and sluggish. It can
not be forded. It can not be crossed in small boats
on account of its exhalations. These are a combi-
1*
10 ' Walks About Chicago.
nation of sulphureted hydrogen, the odor of de-
caying rodents, and the stench of rotting brassica.
In crossing this river, a sort of contrivance is resorted
to, which is termed by the natives, Bruecke.
This Braecke is not always reliable. Sometimes
one can get over the river by its means, oftener he
can't. The Bruecke is built of wood and iron,
painted red, and at a distance looks not unlike a
stumpy sort of rainbow. .
The inhabitants of Nord Seite consist of men,
women, children, dogs, billy-goats, pigs, cats, and
fleas. In estimating the proportion of each of these
classes, it is found that the fleas vastly outnumber all
the others. They are not only numerous, but full-
grown and vicious.
In the warm season, a Nord-Seiter has a lively
time in flea-hunting. In hunting this game, the
Nord-Seiter shuts himself or herself in a tight room,
and strips to the skin. Then the flea is pursued and
captured.
Most all the Nord-Seite dogs are good flea-hunters.
They commence hunting fleas when young, without
any instruction. Pretty much all their lives are
spent in pursuit of this pastime.
The human population of Nord Seite is indus-
trious. In the flea and fly time especially.
The business of the inhabitants of Nord Seite
consists of a great variety of pursuits and occupa-
tions. These pursuits and occupations divide them-
selves naturally into two large classes. The first
consists of every other male resident of Nord Seite.
These are engaged in selling a liquid which tastes
A Triangular Walk. IT
something like a mixture of hops and rosin. It is
the color of amber, and is surmounted with a white,
yeasty, flaky coronal. The other class includes’
every man, woman and child in Nord Seite. This
class is engaged in drinking what the other class is
engaged in selling.
From the large admixture of hops in this universal
beverage, it results that the residents of Nord Seite
are very fond of dancing.
The ladies of Nord Seite are usually feminine in
dress, and oftentimes so in fact and appearance.
They mostly wear their hair braided in small plaits,
which are again braided in larger plaits, which are
braided into still larger ones; and these are once
more braided into a large braid, which is twisted,
and coiled, and wound, and intertwined in, and
around, and through, and about, and over, and unde
itself, till it resembles a riddle tied in a Gordian
knot, and the whole enveloped in a rebus which
nobody ever can guess.
When a Nord-Seite lady once gets her hair done
up in this complex and elaborate style, she neve1
takes it down. She couldn’t if she would. The only
method of removing this style of co¢#ure is to shave
the head.
Intercommunication in Nord Seite is carried on in
various ways. Many of the inhabitants go on foot.
Others have a small two-wheeled vehicle, to which
are harnessed a dog and a small boy, Or a little girl.
They also have tracks upon which run vehicles,
which they term Vagens. ‘The Vagen is drawn by
two horses.
12 Walks About Chicago.
The Vagez is used principally for the conveyance
of passengers carrying goods. It will answer to
what would would be an express-car in this country,
in which each man should ride carrying whatever
article he wished expressed to any point.
I have been in a Vagex in which a woman, on
one side of me, carried on her lap a clothes-basket ;
in which were four heads of cabbage; six links of
imported sausage; one bottle of goose-grease ; two
loaves of a brown, farinaceous product known as
Brodt; a calf’s liver; some strips of what is known
as Schweinfletsch; a half peck of onions; a string
of garlic; and a large piece of a fragrant compound
known as Lzmburger Kase.
On the other side of me was a woman with a
baby in her arms; a small child on each knee; two
other children, a trifle larger, on their knees, on
each side of her, looking out the windows of the
Vagen; and five other children, of various sizes,
picturesquely grouped about her knees and on the
floor. The same sort of thing was scen all through
the Vager. Each woman either had from four to
nine children, or a basket that filled half the vehicle.
Sometimes a woman would have the basket and the
children both.
A very common patroness of the Vagen was a
woman with two buckets of swill, carried by a yoke
from the neck. The woman with the swill buckets
was very common. She usually made her appear-
ance at every third square. She didn’t generally
look very attractive. If possible, she smelt a trifle
worse than she looked.
A Triangular Walk. 13
The Nord-Seiter is economical. No matter if he
earn nothing per dem, he always has enough te
buy a mug of the amber fluid, and have five cents
over, Which he puts away in the bottom of an old
stocking.
There is no newspaper published in Nord Seite.
But there is a brewery there. So is there a distillery.
There is likewise a place where they seli a beverage
known as Lager Bier.
When two or three Nord-Seiters are conversing
confidentially on a subject which they wish nobody
else to hear, their whisper is about as loud as the
tone in which a Chicago man would say ‘Oh, Bill!”
to an acquaintance two blocks away.
When two or three Nord-Seiters converse in an
ordinary tone of voice, the result is a tremendous
roar. A stranger would think them engaged in a
hot, terrific altercation.
A Nord-Seite Vagex is an epitome of one hun-
dred and eight distinct odors, of which onions consti-
tute the dominant.
Some of the Nord-Seiters speak a little broken
English.
There are many other curious things about Nord
Seite and its population. Any body who has time
and money should visit the place. The people are
hospitable. Any one can visit them; reside with
them as long as necessary ; study their customs; and
enjoy himself very thoroughly.
\
14 Walks About Chicago.
SOUTHSIDE.
Once I described a visit I made to a remote and
singular place known to the inhabitants as Nord
Seite. During the same traveling expedition, I
reached another city which contains many points of
interest. This other place is named, by those who
reside in it, Southside.
To get to Southside from Nord Seite, one takes a
steamer to Detroit v7a Milwaukee, Mackinaw, and
Sarnia. Thence east through Canada to Montreal,
thence south vza St. Albans, Rutland, Saratoga, and
Albany to New York. From here you go to Phila-
delphia, and thence west by rail to Southside.
By this route one will either reach Southside, or
New Jerusalem, by being wrecked on the water o1
smashed on the land. By this route it is two to one
in favor of your getting to New Jerusalem, rather
than to Southside. Few men have ever essayed the
trip and lived to tell the tale.
When you once get to Southside you will feel
amply repaid for the risking the perils of the jour.
ney. It is a large and thriving city, and has a popu-
lation of less than 100,Q00.
Southside is laid out next to a large and flourishing
body of water on one side, and a deep and aromatic
river on the other. In the matter of location it is
very exclusive. The river is impassable. Birds
which attempt to fly over it are intoxicated by its
exhilarating perfume, and they fall into it and die.
Southside has but one street, which is known as
i i |
A Triangular Walk. 15
The Avenue. All the population of Southside live
upon The Avenue. If you meet a Southsider in
St. Petersburgh, and ask him where he lives, he will
say he lives on The Avenue. Afterwards, if you ask
him, he will tell you in what city, state, and country
The Avenue is located.
Southside has street cars which are exclusively
for the benefit of strangers visiting the place. Some-
times a lady who lives on The Avenue gets on one
of these cars. Whenever she does, she opens a con-
versation with some one, and tells him in a loud tone
that both her carriages are at the shop to be mended.
She also is obliged to ask the conductor how much
the fare is.
Southside once had a fine opera-house in which
there used to sing grand artists. But now the opera-
house has got to be a combination of hippodrome,
gymnasium, and model-artist exhibitions. Where
Casta Diva was once trilled sublimely, there is now
roared in a hoarse voice, ‘* Captain Jinks of the Horse
Marines.” Where Queen Elizabeth once strode there
now straddles some undressed nymph—of the spec-
tacular persuasion.
The Avenue in Southside is occupied by some of
the most aristocratic and wealthy families in exist-
ence. There are many of them whose descent goes
back to Noah and Adam.
The hospitality of many of the aristocratic and
wealthy families on The Avenue is remarkable.
They carry their hospitality to such an extent that
a family will often put notices in the newspapers
offering all the comforts of a home to a couple of
16 Walks About Chicago.
young gentlemen, or to a gentleman and his wife,
without any children.
About one-half the hospitable residents on The
Avenue,.in this manner, afiord the comforts of a
home to a few guests. In return for the comforts
of a home thus generously afforded them, the guests
pay a small per capita tax. This little tax never
amounts to more than twice or three times the entire
expenses of the hospitable family with whom the
guests find the comforts of a home.
Sometimes a resident of The Avenue will take a
few guests for their companionship. The cost of
being a companion on The Avenue ranges from all
you have in the shape of income to all you can
borrow.
There are no boarding-houses on The Avenue.
A man who can not afford to be a companion in a
refined family, or whose assets do not permit his
enjoyment of the comforts of a home, has to consult
economy and go to a hotel, where he can exist for
$50 per week.
All the people who live on The Avenue keep their
their own carriages. The gentlemen are good horse-
men, and always do their own driving. When a
Southsider drives himself out he usually wears a plug
hat, with the fur, just above the brim, brushed the
wrong way. The gentleman who thus drives him-
self is generally a fine, healthy, fresh-looking man.
The coachman rides behind. He has thin legs,
a weak voice, and frequently wears eye-glasses.
The young ladies who live on The Avenue are the
most beautiful in the world. They always marry for
A Triangular Walk. 17
love. Especially if the husband be worth a couple
of hundred thousand dollars. Or says he is.
When these charming young ladies are married
they never get divorces—§in less than three or six
months. If they do, the case is exceptional. The
rule is one year, unless the young man’s money runs
out sooner, or the young woman gets a better offer.
There is one gambling-house in Southside. There
is likewise a house occupied by young women who
are highly painted, and about the purity of whose
morals there is some doubt.
There is likewise an association of young Christ-
tians who pray for the poor, and needy, and the
starving.
Getting to heaven from Southside is an exclusive,
first-class, expensive operation. A reserved seat on
the Southside route costs from $1,500 to $5,000 per
annum. They run only drawing-room vehicles and
palace cars from the Southside depots. Grace,
Trinity and Messiah are some of the principal depots
from out which there run weekly lines of velvet and
mahogany coaches, in which every thing is exclusive,
first-class, tip-top, and warranted to run through
without change.
A poor man in Southside who wants to go to
heaven, has to go afoot. There is only one man in
Southside who is footing it. There are some other
poor ones who are too weak to walk and too poor to
ride. They propose to go to the other place. It is
a good deal cheaper to go to h—1 from Southside
than it is to go to heaven. ane
Southside has a fine park some where. Real
18 Walks About Chicago.
estate dealers know where it is. It will be a nice,
shady place as soon as some trees are set out. All
the little boys of Southside are going to take their
grandchildren down to the park to play, as soon as
the latter get large enough.
There is a velocipede school in Southside. Some
of the young mien of Southside who ride the veloci-
pede have to stiffen their legs with splinters to keep
them from snapping off. Southside has also a peri-
odical publishéd in the interest of woman. The
interest of woman means, the interest of the woman
that publishes it. There is also a man in the commis-
sion business in Southside. He lives on The Avenue.
There are are a thousand other curious things ¢on-
nected with Southside and its residents which must
be seen to be appreciated. It is a good place to
go to.
WESTSIDE.
Any person who has ever traveled much, or who
has studied physical geography, must have visited,
or must have seen, a place known as Westside. It
is one of the largest places of its size, and the most
singular in respect to its singularity, in the world.
To get to Westside, the traveler provides himselt
with a water-proof suit of clothing, an umbrella, a
life-preserver, and.a box of troches. He then enters
an immense hole under ground which leads mainly
westward in one direction, and eastward in another.
This subterranean entrance to Westside was con-
structed for a double purpose. One of these pur-
A Triangular Walk. 19
poses was to prevent any body who lives on West-
side from leaving. ‘The other was because there is
a river which no body can cross, owing to its exhala-
tions. The subterranean entrance runs under this
river.
Going through this hole is a work of immense
difficulty and danger. The best way to get through
in winter is to skate through. In summer, for a few
days, in dog-days, there is good boating. The innu-
merable cascades, cataracts, pitfalls, and the intense
darkness make its navigation a work of great risk.
Like the entrance to Rasselas’ Happy Valley, it is
constructed to keep people in, who are once in, and
to discourage the coming in of those who are out.
Once in Westside the traveler finds himself on
an enormous plain sparsely covered with houses.
Westside extends from the river to a park somewhere
‘on its limits to the westward. Just where this park
is, nobody knows. The boundaries of Westside are
as limitless and indefinite as the interval from the
Gulf of Mexico to the present time.
The architecture of Westside is fine and peculiar.
A residence with a marble front always has a
butcher’s shop on one side, and a beer saloon on the
other. The people who live in Westside are as
diversified as their architecture.
Westside has street-cars which are sometimes
visible when a rain has laid the dust. One conductor
on one of these street-cars washed his hands one
spring. At least it was said he did. No body was
ever able to tell when the time was, or Ros con-
ductor it was that did it.
20 Watks About Chicago.
Whenever a man in Westside builds a house and
puts up a fence in front of it, he immediately calls
the space in front of his lot an avenue. Almost
every Westsider lives on an avenue. Sometimes a
Westside avenue is as much as 200 or 300 feet long.
Every other shop in Westside is owned by a
butcher, who has always a bloody and half-skinned
calf hanging up in his door for a cheerful sign. The
thing is so agreeable to Westsiders, that, on every
pleasant afternoon, the ladies take their knitting-work,
and go and sit in front of the butcher’s shop.
Westside is the residence of a good many notable,
strong-minded women. ‘These strong-minded women
all have virtuous and docile husbands, who are fur-
ther characterized by their sweetness, and their retir-
ing dispositions. Whenever a Westside woman gets
to weigh 270 pounds, she immediately starts out in
favor of woman’s rights. In this weigh, she is
able to afford great weight to the cause which she
advocates. .
Every woman in Westside once lived on The
Avenue of a place known as Southside. Whenever
she goes down town, she goes to visit a friend on
The Avenue. Whenever she has been down town,
she has been to call on a friend who lives on The
Avenue. A good many ladies who live in Westside
carry the idea, in the cars, that they live in Southside,
on The Avenue, and are only in Westside for a visit.
The uncle, aunt, cousin, grand-mother, brother-in-
law, step-sister, half-uncle, and god-father of every
body in Westside lives on The Avenue in Southside.
No young lady in Westside will receive permanent
A Triangular Walk. 21
attention from a young man unless he lives on The
Avenue in Southside. When a Westsider of the
female persuasion dies, her spirit immediately wings
its way to the blissful and ecstatic realms of The
Avenue on Southside.
The railway companies in Westside never water
their track. They do their stock. The result, in
both cases, is to throw dirt in the eyes of the public.
There are no carriages in Westside. It is so dusty
there, that a vehicle which does not run on rails can
never find its way from one point to another. When
it is not dusty it is muddy. The dust has no top,
and the mud no bottom. In either case, locomotion,
except on tracks, is impossible.
Westside has no newspapers. It likewise has no
opera-house which is used as a circus. Its principal
local amusement consists, among the men, in chewing
tobacco, and among the women, in going to church.
Wherever there is a corner in Westside not occupied
as a drug store, it is occupied by a church.
All the churches in Westside have some thing
going on in them every evening, and seven after-
noons in every week, and four times every Sunday.
Whenever there is any thing going on in any church,
they toll the bell for an hour and a quarter before it
commences, and at intervals during the performance.
The result is, that every man in Westside heais
from one to eleven bells tolling cheerfully three-fifths
of his time.
_A stranger in Westside would conclude that the
whole town was dead, or that ten or fifteen melan-
choly funerals were in progress in every neighbor-
22 Walks About Chicago.
hood. There is one church, on the corner of Wash-
ington avenue and Robey avenue, that has been
tolling its bell without cessation for two years. When
there isn’t a prayer-meéting, or some body dead, they
toll it for some body who is going to die. They use
up 4 sexton there every thirteen days. When there
is no prayer-meeting, or any thing else, or any body
dead, or any body who is going to die, then the. ie
tolls for the last deceased sexton.
Westside is immensely philanthropic: It has an
asylum for inebriates from Southside; and other
places. This asylum has often as many as from one
to two inebriates who are undergoing tteatinent.
The treatment consists in leaning against the fence,
when tight, and in stepping over the way to a saloon
and getting tight, when sober. The asylum is a very
cheerful building, with enormous windows of four
by six glass. Some of the rooms are fine and airy,
and would answer for dog-kerinels if enlarged and
properly ventilated.
There ate a good many other peculiar things in
Westside, which can be better understood by being
seen than by being heard of. Any body who dares
to face the dangers and darkness of the hole in the
ground by which one reaches Westside, will be well
repaid for his visit.
WATER-WORKS AND WATER-
FALLS.
aaey TIEN one lacks a thenie upon which to
¥ write, he can always fall back on Chica-
fl go. Other subjects have a depth which
is fathomahble ; Chicago, like its mud, is
bottomless.
One can always write about Chicago without
Wwearying himself or his readers. He may write of
it as a whole,—a mud-hole,—if he chooses, and
never exhaust it. He may deal with it in particu-
lars, and never reach their end.
The great event of the past week was the great
turinel. And speaking of water-works irresistibly
reminds one of our ladies. And this again necessi-
tates raptures. What is there more beautiful in
song or story, in romance or legend, in dreams or
in irnagination, than the latest style of woman?
Her water-fall, tied on the top of her head, may be
said to be at high tide. There is nothing so charm-
ing as the present style. What can be more rakish
than the little flat hat, one end of which rests on a
delicate nose, and the other, reaching aspiringly up-
wards, upon the towering water-fall? The nose of
24 Walks About Chicago.
the ladies is out of joint. Once it had its own
bridge; now it serves as a pier for a bridge from
nose to chignon.
The part of the head thus bridged is that which
usually contains the intellectual faculties. Bridges
are generally built over abysses. There is ordina-
rily nothing under a bridge. Is there any thing
under these hat-bridges? Are they constructed be-
cause there is emptiness, space, vacuity, an abysm
between nose and waterfall ?
The elevated chignon now covers the organs of
amativeness and self-esteem. When women lack a.
development in any part, they usually supply it.
Why they should pad either of these phrenological
developments, one fails to see. It is like carrying
coals to Newcastle. The latter of these two organs
is always of full size in the sex. The other is never
deficient. It is the most beautiful development in
woman. With it she loves early and often.
From a water-fall to water-works the transforma-
tion is natural. In this connection, it is gratifying
to be able to state that the new water works well.
Not well-water, but lake-water is meant.
The new water which comes through the tunnel
is of the most remarkable purity. It is so perfectly
clear and transparent that, when frozen into ice, it
becomes invisible. When a goblet stands befere
one at dinner, he has to thrust his finger in it to know
whether there is water there. In some respects it
is inconvenient. ?
93
band sus
** At eight o’clock to-morrow night, on the corner
of State and 4
“My! what singular ladies these Chicago
** Ain’t it jolly? Our folks don’t suspect
** Billy’s gone back on
‘Come around to-morrow evening. John is going
to——”
And thus the concert went on, mingled with ten
thousand allusions to dry goods, laces, poplin, illu-
sion, and other things which were Greek or Chal-
daic to an unsophisticated person, who, like myself,
had never served an apprenticeship in a dry-goods
establishment.
The aristocratic young men with dyed moustaches
were particularly modest. No one of them whom I
saw ever stared more than one woman out of coun-
tenance at a time. Some of the women didn’t
stare out of countenance worth a cent. It was about
an even thing when some of the latter and the youths
with the dyed moustaches got to looking at each
other. Whichever yielded first, usually did so with
a modest wink at the other.
As a whole I was very much impressed with the
matinée. ‘The ladies were remarkably beautiful.
They were dressed in a manner gorgeous beyond
all description. Their elbows were of a universal
sharpness, of which I have patterns of one hundred
3
99
76 Walks About Chicago.
and eighteen different ones on my body. ‘They were
as modest in their conversation as in their dress.
The bearing of many of them was as modest as their
conversation. They were calculated to impress a
beholder very highly.
The perfumery was elegant. I recognized twenty-
seven different kinds of French extracts ; eleven varie-
ties of old Bourbon; ninety-four of Trix; sixteen of
onions; besides a variety of others, such as cloves,
sherry, cardamon, lager, tobacco, cheese; and exclu-
sive of seventeen other species whose character I
could not recognize.
The matinées are fine things. There should be
more of them. They cultivate feminine muscle.
They develop woman’s love of the drama, her pow-
ers of observation, and numerous other qualities too
numerous to mention. I did not observe any hus-
bands present with ¢hezr wives. Nor did I notice
any Wives present with ¢ezr husbands.
In fine, the matznée isa res magna. ‘There should
be one every afternoon. It should be some time after
noon. ‘The longer the better.
THE OLD MAN’S SMOKE, ETC.
aN a family up town there is an individual
known among his more intimate friends
as the “Old Man.” The Old Man is
zs me} “rising” of seven years old, and is a
Be ilar old patriarch in the way of knowing things.
The other day Madame, who is the Old Man’s ma-
ternal relative, came down stairs. As Madame
stepped into the room, the Old Man had just lighted
a cigar, and was essaying his maiden smoke. He
sat upon the sofa, wtith his legs crossed like an old
veteran. His paternal relative’s broad-brimmed hat
covered his head, and he held his cigar gracefully
between his first and second fingers.
Madame, being sensible, did not faint, or *‘ go for”
her slipper, but took.a book and sat down to watch
operations. The Old Man had watched for her
appearance dubiously ; but her unconcern reassured
him, and he queried, after a vast puff of smoke, and
with immense nonchalance, ‘‘ What’s your opinion
of rats?”
And the Old Man was-happy. He discussed the
weather with Madame as if he were an old gentle-
man who had called in to chat over the aflairs of the
"8 Walks About Chicago.
neighborhood. Madame replied indifferently, as if
absorbed in her book, but all the while keeping the
corner of an eye upon the veteran on the sofa.
The Old Man progressed swimmingly. Pussy
was called up, and disgusted with the phenomenon
of an unexpected quart of smoke in her eyes and
nostrils. ‘* Bob,” a female kitchen mechanic, was
invited in by the Old Man to witness how he could
‘‘smoke through his nose.” He hauled up a chair
and raised his ten-inch legs clear to the top of the
back, did this Old Man. And all the time he smoked
with the coolness of a Turk.
Life opened up roseately before the Old Man. A
future revealed itself through the smoke, which was
half cigar and half meerschaum. A cigar was to be
smoked every morning after breakfast. A negotia-
tion was effected with Madame wherewith’ to buy a
cigar at recess. In the evening, a pipe. A pipe
which he was to color, A beautiful, white pipe,
which was to be purchased by the sale of a ball, two
colored buttons, and a kite-string. Never was there
such a future or such a pipe.
And in thus dreaming, and planning, and chatting,
the Old Man smoked — now sending a current from
his nostrils, now driving it out with a furious blast,
and anon puffing it forth in detached cloudlets.
The cigar was smoked to the very lip, and then
the Old Man thought he would try a pipe. Taking
down the meerschaum, he scraped it out scientific-
ally with his jackknife, filled it, and resumed his seat
on the sofa, and lifted his ten-inch legs to the chair-
back. During all this time the Old Man’s face was
i all
Ss
The Old Man’s Smoke. 79
as serene, his smile as genial, and his talk as agree-
able, as if earth were affording its highest enjoy-
ments.
It was an ancient pipe, with much nicotine lurk-
ing in its tubular communications. Occasionally
some of the nicotine invaded the Old Man’s tongue,
whereat he grimaced somewhat — nothing more.
The meerschaum was half-smoked out. Once or
twice, in the course of absorbing converse, it went
out, but was at once relighted with many a reson-
ant puff. ‘The pipe was half-smoked, and then there
came a single, pearly drop of perspiration creeping
out from the Old Man’s hair upon his forehead. A
moment later another stole from some covert and
stood upon his chin. About this moment, something
seemed suddenly to strike the Old Man. A cheer-
ful remark was abruptly broken off in the centre, and
the Old Mau suddenly stopped as if to reflect upon
something unexpected — somewhat as if he had just
remembered that his note was over-due, or he had
suddenly recollected that his two children had died
five minutes before, or that he was to be hung in
three minutes, and had entirely overlooked the fact.
He took down his legs from the chair, laid aside
the broadbrim, and started to put up the pipe.
“Why don’t you finish your smoke?” inquired
the Madame.
‘¢ [ — h’lieve — ve — smoked —’nuff,” replied the
Old Man, as he walked with an uneven step to put
up the pipe. When he came back the drops of per-
Spiration upon the chin and forehead were rein-
forced by hosts of others. A waxy whiteness had
80 Walks About Chicago.
taken possession of the approaches to the Old Man’s
mouth. He stared vaguely, as if looking through a
mist.
Two minutes later, all there was of the veteran
on the sofa was a limp figure, white as snow, with
head bound in wet towels, and an attendant with a
slop dish. A little later, and the Old Man lay
white and still, with fixed eyes, and a scarcely per-
ceptible breathing. It was hours before the Old_
Man left his bed, and when he did he moved about
as doall- very old men who find the weight of years
a burden.
The Old Man has not yet traded his ball, buttons
and kite-string for a meerschaum.
I have been a good deal surprised that the Ard
Fournal, or the art critics of the daily newspapers,
have taken no notice of the curtain at Aiken’s Thea-
tre. It is said that Aitken, the manager of the Crosby
Art Gallery, has offered an immense sum for this
painting, with the view of hanging.it up in the place
hitherto occupied: by the Yo Semzte. Several con-
noisseurs, from New York, and one virtuoso, from
Paris, have been to see the curtain, and have offered
a fabulous price for this work of art.
The painting itself is the “*‘ Lame Washerwoman.”
It represents a scene by a mill-pond. In the fore-
ground is a stairway leading to the lower proscenium
box. Upon this stairway stands a beautiful woman
with club-feet. Her right limb is crooked, and is
bent so as lie upon the step above the one on which
The Cold Victuals Contest. 81
rests her other foot. This charming creature gives
the name to the painting.
Immediately in front of her, and on the shore of
the pond, is a new-fashioned drying machine, upon
which is hung an immense washing. Lying upon
the ground, near the machine, is a sick man, about
thirty feet long.
The pond is fine. Nearest the spectator the water
is acerulean blue. In the middle distance it is a
vivid green. On the further side it is a violet yellow.
Beyond the pond is a lofty mountain, of an exquisite
variety of green, blue, yellow, and pink. This moun-
tain is so arranged that one who stands on this side
the pond, or at the foot of the mountain, can look
down on its top and see the bottom of an immense
crater of an extinct volcano.
The sky which overtops the mountain is of a
superb green and an elegant yellow. ‘There is a
mill at the foot of the mountain, which is a beautiful
blue.
Mr. Aiken is justly proud of this magnificent work
of art. It is said that, when off duty, he spends his
whole time sitting in an orchestra chair in front of
this curtain, absorbed in admiration of its grandeur.
The cold victuals contest rages with unabated
vigor. The writer is a member of the Relief Com-
mittee of the Young Men’s Christian Association.
He begs leave to report through Zhe Sunday Times,
that his labors, during the past week, were of the
most encouraging character. He is of the opinion
4*
82 Walks About Chicago.
that much good is being done to sinners. He visited
during the past week thirty-four destitute families.
Many refreshing seasons were enjoyed, and many
souls were led to think of the exceeding sinfulness
of sin. Many interesting incidents occurred. The
writer begs leave to report a few of these, as showing
the encouraging character of the work upon which
the society is engaged :
No. 1. Found a widow woman with four children,
living in a filthy alley. No furniture or provisions.
Woman sick; children crying for bread. Told
woman who I was. She felt very grateful. Asked
her if she knew she was a sinner. Said she did not
know; she was too sick, she said, to think much
about it. Asked her if she believed in the worm
which dieth not, and the fire which is not quenched.
Said her children were troubled with worms a good
deal; and would like fire that wouldn’t go out; hers
had gone out a week ago. Groaned over her sinful-
ness, but, after further talk with her, concluded to
relieve her necessities. Gave her a tract entitled
“The Bread ofeiite?*
No. 5. A saloon, with many awful, sinful men,
playing auction-pitch for whisky. Stepped in, and,
looking upon them severely, I asked, ‘*‘ Is Jesus here?”
Barkeeper said he hadn’t seen any such man, and
wanted to know if he run with Long John engine.
Groaned, and went out. ;
No. 13. Two young women living in the upper
portion of a dilapidated house on Wells Street.
Both sick. Said they had sent all their clothes to
their uncle’s. Had no money, medicine, food, or
a
The Cold Victuals Contest. 83
friends © Asked them if they knew they had souls
to be saved cr lost. One of them said she wasn’t
certain. The other said she didn’t give a d—n
either way. .What she wanted was some food and
a doctor. Gave hera tract entitled the ‘‘ Loaves and
Fishes.”~ Gave the other another tract called ‘‘ The
Great Physician.” Groaned, and left.
No. 27. Crippled Irish soldier and four small chil-
dren. He said he had no pension. Was out of
work, sick, and discouraged. His wife had lately
died, and left his children without any body to care
for them. Had no provisions in the house. He
hated, he said, to ask for relief, but it was that or
starvation. I asked him if he had experienced that
change which passeth all understanding. He said
he was without any experience in change, or bills of
any size whatever. Asked him if he did not know
that he was a reprobate. He said he didn’t know;
that he hadn’t bate any thing lately, barrin’ a bit ov
a discusshun wid fists he had wid a naybor afore
bein’ taken sick. I asked him if he didn’t know that
that by nature all men are totally depraved, and that
he’d be damned to all eternity if he didn’t repent.
He said he thought not. He wouldn’t go to the bad
place, he’d be d—d if he would. Gave him a tract
called ** The Smoking Flax.” Groaned, and left.
From these instances, it will be seen that the work
of relief goes on. The following is a summary of
the writer’s distributions during the last month:
Tracts, - - - - - - = 2 2 400
Hymn-books, - - a thn i ay . 125
Testaments, - - - - - - = = 175
84 Walks About
Loaves bread, A hay =e ee
Petticoats (second-hand), -
Cords wood, ~ es =
Tons coal, - - > e
Pairs boots, - - - =
Pairs shoes, = = ~ =
Underclothing, - - A
More tracts, - - - s
GLANCES AT SUMMER RESORTS.
MACKINAW.
wee ACKINAW, the refrigerating Mecca of
Hy] the lakes, made its appearance the second
day after we left Chicago.
smutiemed) At first sight, it seems neither so large
nor so well-built as the Garden City. In these re-
spects it even falls somewhat behind Milwaukee.
Upon the heights of the island there stands a fort
of the most awe-inspiring dimensions and construc-
tion. Five fearful-looking six-pounders yawn sav-
agely over the seaward walls. A man in blue, with
a feather and a bayonet, keeps watch and ward over
these terrific implements of destruction.
On the narrow beach lies the town. There are
two hotels, two churches, another hotel, some board-
ing-houses, then some more hotels, another church,
a boarding-house, a log-house, thatched with bark,
and a private house that is neither a hotel, boarding-
house, nor church. There are several other build-
ings which are used for selling ‘‘ Indian curiosities.” °
“Indian curiosities” are mainly little articles
88 Glances at Summer Resorts.
which sell at the rate of five dollars to a cost of one
cent.
Mackinaw is the great cooling-off place of the con-
tinent.. It is the ice-house, the refrigerator.
Meats keep in this wonderful climate seven or eight
weeks. The steak which you don’t eat this morn-
ing will appear before your plate to-morrow. It will
be just as good, and eatable, and fresh as it was this
morning.
Of course, one rapidly cools off. The only time
when one is liable to get into a perspiration is when
he pays for any thing, or comes to settle his bill.
Cooling off is done by sitting on the balcony of
the hotel, tipping back in a chair, and putting your
feet on the top rail. The view from the grounds, in
front of a party thus engaged in cooling off, is pic-
turesque.
As a general thing, this style of cooling off is not
popular among our lady boarders.
Mackinaw is noted for its fishing facilities. I have
already fished for two days, and have not as yet had
a bite.
Singularly, the fishing grounds are all from nine to
fifteen miles away, and can only be reached by hiring
a man and a sail-boat, at the rate of a dollar an hour.
Two friends of mine, four empty whisky-bottles, two
gun-cases, six blankets, and about a ton of fishing-
tackle, ammunition, and provision-baskets, have just
returned from a three days’ excursion to these remote, °
inviting, and prolific fishing waters.
They paid $30 for boat and guide; got one trout;
seven fish-bites ; from 15,000 to 25,000 sand-fly and
Mackinaw. 89
mosquito bites; and one shot ata gull. In addition
to this, one of the party got his nose broken by trip-
ping over a root; and both got their noses blistered
by the sun till they now peel with the facility of birch-
bark.
Eating fish is the chief amusement among the
sojourners at Mackinaw. At the first meal, one
takes boiled and broiled white-fish, and boiled and
broiled trout. At the next meal you drop the boiled
white-fish. At the next you drop the boiled trout.
At the next you take broiled trout. At the next you
take a very small piece, please, of the broiled white-
fish. At the next “No fish, thank you!”
There are some other amusements. There is the
fun of hearing the steamers whistle. There are
never less than from three to five steamers coming
in or going out of Mackinaw. All of them blow off
steam through an immense copper cylinder; and
the performance is called whistling. It shakes the
island like a volcano; rattles the window-casements ;
tumbles the children out of bed; and awakens one
out of his sleep with the impression that Gabriel is
blowing his horn for the day of judgment.
Another amusement is to walk down through the
dust, when a boat comes in, and ask for Chicago
papers. Younever get any; but this does not make
it any the less interesting to go forthem. The mails
for this point come from Chicago véa Cincinnati,
Toronto, Montreal, or some other eastern town.
There is no news-depot. There are a few depots
devoted to the sale of Indian curiosities.
Another amusement consists in finding a woman
go Glances at Summer Resorts.
here without her husband, and then getting up a
flirtation with her. As a general thing this is a
popular amusement. One can not step out of the
house after dark without great danger of tumbling
over a couple more or less engaged in love-making.
Another amusement consists in a visit to the fort.
The fort is a massive work, with a tight stone wall
in front, and a board fence in the rear, behind which
is an eminence that commands the interior. In case
of attack, the intention is to let the enemy capture
the fort, then the garrison will retreat to the emi-
nence, and proceed to shell out the caged enemy.
Taken in all, it is one of the most ingenious traps
ever constructed, save, perhaps, the celebrated Peters-
burg mine.
The fort is garrisoned by a battalion of soldiers.
Their duty is onerous. It consists in ceaseless vigils
to guard against the approach of British gunboats ;
and in rowing and sailing on the lake. Twice
or three times a week the officers have to come
down to the hotels and dance. These duties, and
that of drawing their pay, are a portion of what
has to be done by the veterans who guard Fort
Mackinaw.
There are some other amusements. One can
climb trees; watch the Indian women scratch their
heads; and visit the ‘‘ Lover’s Leap.” ‘The ‘ Lover’s
Leap” is a rock adown which some persecuted maiden
leaped to avoid an importunate lover who wished to
marry her. Evidently she was not a maiden of
modern birth and education.
Taken in all, Mackinaw is a nice place. It is cool,
7
“
Sault Ste. Alarie. QI
if you can find a breeze and can sit in it. There
being no doctors here it is remarkably healthy. Inva-
lids who come here always get well soon after they
have used up all the medicine they bring with them.
There are fine bathing facilities if you go about four
miles around back of the island. I take great pleas-
ure in recommending the hotel where I am stopping.
Its landlord is accommodating, and its clerk is gen-
tlemanly. :
SAULT STE. MARIE.
BerroreE taking final leave of Mackinaw, I ought
to say at least a word about the society. It is very
brilliant there this summer. Both the hotels are full.
When a hotel is full there, they continue to take in
more people, like a Chicago street-car. I slept ina
small bed-room off a parlor. Two others and a dog
slept in the same room. In the parlor, on cots, sofas,
and the floor, were a married man, his wife, a baby
that lay awake nights and yelled, three young ladies,
some children, and another baby a little larger than
the other. About the same sort of thing was all over
the house. Sometimes the babies cried, the married
man swore, the married woman said “ Hush!” the
older children snored, and the young ladies ‘‘ Oh
deared,” and the dog barked, all at once. When to
this concert were added two steamers whistling at
the landing, the porter taking a big trunk down
stairs, and the barking of some more dogs down in
the village, the whole was delightful as an old-fash-
ioned horning at a wedding.
gz Glances at Summer Resorts.
Chicago is largely represented at Mackinaw. A
Chicago man is known the moment he arrives. He
goes down to the landing, and hallos up to people
on the boat: ‘“* What was wheat doin’ ?”
The next day, when the Chicago man comes down
to breakfast, he inquires of the first man he meets:
‘¢ What is corn goin’ to do?”
The ladies from all places have a superb time.
They discuss each other’s peculiarities behind each
other’s backs, in a style that is at once exciting and
interesting. Those at the Island House have a sort
of a general idea of the superiority of their set over the
people at the Mission House. ‘Those at the Mission
House are pervaded with a sort of a feeling of com-
miseration for the ladies who are forced to stop at
the Island House.
At each place the people who sit at one end of one
table find themselves somewhat disposed to hold
themselves aloof from the other people who sit at the
other end of the same table. In the same way the
first floor is rather disposed to be arrogant with re-
spect to the second floor. A parlor is very airy
towards a single bed-room. A double bed-room
holds itself rather higher than a single bed-room.
It was just at the precise moment when every body
who wished to go to Lake Superior had fallen into
his first sleep, that the steamer Union, bound from
Chicago to Superior, blew her charming whistle.
There was a hasty shifting of night-shirts for other
garments, a strapping of trunks, a grinding of dray
wheels, a squalling among the children aroused by
the clamor, and then the cabin of the Union.
‘aid
Sault Ste. Marie. 93
Happening, after a while, to have business below,
I descended to the lower deck of the Union, and was
at once agreeably and vastly astonished. Among
her other freight was a lot of cattle, sheep, swine,
and cabbages. From these there arose an odor like
unto Bridgeport. It was delightful. I inhaled the
familiar fragrance, and I felt myself at home again.
Once more Chicago was present, and for a moment
I forgot that I was an exile and a wanderer.
That evening all Chicago went to the lower deck
and breathed in delicious remembrances of home.
A German from the North Side selected the pile of
cabbage, and others took the odor of hog, sheep, or
beef-cattle, according to their fancies. At a late
hour we regretfully tore ourselves away, and went
to our respective state-rooms above.
Daylight found us tied up, in the fog, to a thriving
settlement known as De Tour, at the foot of Ste.
Marie’s River. The place is handsomely located on
the American shore, and has one store, one dwelling,
and one wood-pile. On that particular morning its
population was largely increased by two canoe-loads
of Indians, who were in camp there over night.
They were children of nature, thrilling and beauti-
ful. A patriarchal squaw wore a man’s hat, a
woman’s petticoat, and a pair of unmistakable
breeches. Her old man had ona calico shirt, and
nothing else worth mention. There was a maternal
canine of no particular breed, with five responsibili-
ties. When the hour for departure came, the moth-
erly dog was firmly, yet unceremoniously, lifted by
the tail and flung into the canoe. A gridiron, frying-
94 Glances at Summer Resorts.
pan, her wailing infants, a piece of fat meat for din-
ner, and a couple of fish were flung on top of her,
and then the untutored natives paddled away.
One who desires solitude can not do better than to
locate any where on either side of the Sault Ste.
Marie. It isa narrow river, which * runs like h—l,”
as a military gentleman on board expressed it, and
has not sufficient tillable ground on either shore to
grow a hill of beans.
A man in search of rocks would like the country.
A man fond of blackened stumps by the million
would be pleased with the location.
The stream is so crooked that a man on the bow
of the boat could almost, at any time, shake hands
with one on the stern.
At the head of the river, and opposite the locks
that lead into Lake Superior, is Sault Ste. Marie.
Sault Ste. Marie is pronounced ‘ Soo.”
The ‘*‘ Soo” is another fashionable watering place.
There are some stores, some log-houses, and a hotel.
The hotel is built to hold fifty people comfortably ;
but it contains usually one hundred and fifty. Men
with eye-glasses stood on the shore, watching our
approach. Gaily-dressed women, with “ Follow-me-
lads” did likewise.
Opposite the locks are the rapids. The rapids
afford the best shooting facilities on the lakes. The
shooting is done inacanoe. You get in a canoe,
with four Indians, and then shoot the rapids. It is
rare sport, if you don’t get spilled. In which case
you are recovered in small pieces from the still water
a mile or two below.
Sault Ste. Marie. 95
Shooting the rapids is like being shot out of a
fifteen-inch gun — only you go faster in the former
case. I enjoyed the shooting—the rapid motion, the
tremendous excitement, and the imminent danger —
immensely. In every case that I thus enjoyed this
unequaled amusement, it was when I sat on a rock
on the shore, and saw some one else going down the
stream.
There is a fort there. It consists of an acre of
ground inclosed by a board fence. Several six-pound
guns stand in the middle of the inclosure. A man
with a bayonet very kindly stands at the gate and
keeps out the cattle.
There were some Chicago men there who inquired
about wheat. There were likewise some gentlemen
with very pointed shoes, white handkerchiefs over
their hats, side-whiskers, and single eye-glasses. All
of them pronounce can’t as if written Aawzt. I sus-
pected that they came from a country known as
Canada.
The amusements at the ‘‘ Soo” are the same, prin-
cipally, as at Mackinaw. ‘The men put their heels
high up in the daytime, and take them down occa-
sionally to take a drink, play a game of billiards, or
go down and see a boat come in. The ladies all
have three different dresses, which they change
according to the meals. ‘There is calico with coftee,
light colors with roast beef, and black with young
hyson. Still another style is worn later at night,
whose character | had no opportunity of exam-
ining.
Parlor and bed-room, first floor and second floor,
96 Glances at Summer Resorts.
have the same opinion of their respective merits that
they have of each other at Mackinaw.
The ‘‘ Soo” is cool when one is not in a warm
place. JI found it endurable in shady places where
there was a stiff breeze. A good deal of cooling-off
is done through straws over a counter.
There is an Indian at the * Soo.” I did not learn
his residence. Sometimes he sat in the sun and
dolefully delved with his fingers in his hair. Some-
times he came in town with a pail of ‘ huckleber-
ries.” Oftener he sat in the sun thinking of his
heroic ancestors, the desecrated graves of his fore-
fathers, and meanwhile burrowing among his raven
locks. His costume was usually primitive and ven-
tilated.
It was the same Indian that you meet at Mackinaw,
at De Tour, at every other point from the Straits to
Superior City. Poor Indian! He dreams, suns
himself, and scratches.
LAKE SUPERIOR.
WE were locked into Lake Superior as the shades
of evening were being pulled down over the case-
ments of the eastern sky. There was a sunset that
evening. It occurred a little north of west, on the
horizon. Some one on board said the sun was about
going to bed. The publicity attending the perform-
ance may account for the redness of the face of the
sun. He felt ashamed. |
The phenomenon was perfectly splendid. My
.
——
Lake Superior. 97
authority for this assertion is a young lady, who sat
on the bow and witnessed the performance.
There was a newly married couple witnessing the
gorgeous sunset. It affected them powerfully. They
nestled closer together, they clasped, with the strength
of vices, each other’s hand. ‘Their cheeks came in
contact. Somehow, the sunset was not the only thing
that thus affected them. Every thing else had the
same effect on them.
If there was an island in sight, they squeezed hands.
If a canoe came in view, they took a sly embrace.
No matter what appeared or occurred, the opportu-
nity was selected as the one in which to make an
erotic demonstration. In fact, so far as I saw, except
during frequent disappearances into their stateroom,
they seemed to be everlastingly indulging in some
ecstatic and love-inspired performances.
The red-faced sun went under the waves. Night
drew its curtain of gauzy darkness around from the
east. The stars came out in myriads, and flashed
through the curtains. The shores receded into a
misty obscurity, and then disappeared. The blue
lines upon the horizon changed from purple to an
inky blackness. The waters dashed against the prow,
and rushed behind us with a monotonous and
mournful sound, like the sweep of the swift current
of a river.
Taking advantage of all these occurrences, the
newly-wedded pair repaired to their stateroom.
Following the example of night, I will draw a veil
over the occurrences of the evening.
At precisely daylight, there came a furious rapping
5
98 Glances at Summer Resorts.
along the stateroom doors, accompanied with the
remark: ‘‘ We’re a-comin’ close to Pictured Rocks.”
Before I left Chicago, J. Adams Allen, MD:
mentioned the fact that Pictured Rocks could
minister more to a mind diseased than all the M.D.’s
and apothecary shops in Christendom. Every body
else said that Pictured Rocks were ¢#e attraction of
Lake Superior. I was therefore highly impressed
with Pictured Rocks. I put on my clothes and went
out.
It was a sublime scene. It was just day-break.
The cold wind whistled across the deck, and set one’s
teeth to chattering, like castanets. Casting nets is a
cold business. It is the coolest figure I can think of.
It was just two hours of freeze, swear, chill, and
shiver, before we got abreast of Pictured Rocks.
They are fine. ‘The uneasy lake has worn away the
shore, until there remains a long wall whose face is
perpendicular to the water. Upon this wall are the
famed pictures.
The first noticeable picture is an immense hole.
Looking upon auger holes and other excavations and
drillings in the light of pictures, then the hole in the
Superior rock is a grand artistic success. It has
great depth, — forty or fifty feet. It has breadth, —
not less than sixty feet. It has stone, — sand-stone.
The chtaro-oscuro is probably good, —that is, if it
have any. All pictures are said to have chzaro-
OSCUrO.
The next picture was either a portrait of Mr.
Lincoln, or a cavity made by the fall of a ton or so
4
Lake Superior. 99
of rocks. Being a couple of miles away, I could
not say with certainty which it was.
Further along there is a chapel. At least the
guide-book says so. Itis probably very fine. I have
no hesitation in conceding that it is one of the finest
pieces of architecture in existence. Iwas unfortunate
enough not to be able to see it.
There are twelve or fifteen other pictures spoken
of in the guide-book, which I did not see. It is
possible that they have been removed for exhibition
to Crosby’s Art Gallery.
The first watering-place of note after leaving the
** Soo” is Marquette. Marquette was situated ona
northward turn in the south bank of Lake Superior.
It had some elegant brick stors. There was a
sidewalk. There were also some private residences,
in which people resided.
Such was Marquette. At present it looks very
much like a place where an encampment of Indians
cooked its last night’s supper.
Nevertheless, by some singular dispensation of
Providence, hotels were spared, and to them flock
the pleasure-seekers. It is a good place to seek
pleasure. There is good fishing some fifty or more
miles below. There is excellent pigeon-shooting
down at Grand Island, only eighty miles away.
Game is found in abundance on the other shore of
the lake, only some 300 miles distant. ‘The bathing
is excellent in the lake, if you first take out the
water and heat it. There will be a good harbor as
soon as it can be built.
The facilities for getting about town are varied.
100 Glances at Summer Resorts.
One can climb over brick-piles, clamber over timber-
piles, swim through mortar-beds, or wade through
the sand.
The crowd, especially at the Northwestern, is
good-looking and well-dressed. The gentlemen
amuse themselves by sitting on the small of their
backs, under the trees, and in chewing tobacco. The
ladies are engaged in sitting on the portico, in
changing their dresses, and in playing billiards.
None of them as yet can beat even Foster. They
use the cue, and play the ‘ full,” or ‘* pocket,” game.
Sometimes the guests go out for a little row. I
mean a row on the lake, and not a row on the land.
Sometimes they go out riding. There are no thea-
tres, circuses, regattas, horse-races, concerts, dances,
excursions, or picnics. Leaving these out, the
amusements are very entertaining. You can make
love to somebody’s wife. You can shoot with a bow
and arrow at the trees. You can observe the fine
play of a fountain which occurs for a few minutes
semi-annually. Any general eclipse of the sun or
moon, and visible from that vicinity, can likewise be
seen from Marquette. In such a case, the view must
undoubtedly be a fine one.
NIAGARA.
NIAGARA is a great thing. A vast body of water _
goes down an inclined plane, and then falls over a
hill or precipice.
There is an island which divides the current be-
Niagara. IO]
fore it gets to the precipice. The land is called Goat
Island. This is an improper rendering of Go-it
Island. It was so termed originally from the way
the waters go-it on either side.
I should say that the Falls are quite sublime. I
think I have some where heard or read something
to that effect.
But the sublimest thing is not Niagara; it is in
seeing Niagara. Mr. Carlyle had somewhat to say
of the danger of shooting Niagara. If Mr. C. knows
as much about as I do, his next article will be a
stronger one than his last, and will be called Seeing
Niagara.
The charge at Balaklava has been much lauded.
It was a tame affair compared to the charges at
Niagara.
To see Niagara, you buy eleven silk dresses for
your wife, and six shirts for yourself. You then get
all the ready money you have, borrow all your
friends have, and make arrangements for unlimited
credit at two or three good, solvent banks. You
then take six trunks, some more money, a nurse, a
colored servant, some more money; and then, after
getting some more money, and extending your credit
at one or two more strong banks, you set out. It is
better, if possible, just before you leave, to mortgage
your homestead and get some more money.
After getting there, your cheapest plan will be to
purchase a hotel, and a carriage and team. Youcan
stay a week, and then give away the hotel and the
carriage, and still make money by the operation.
If not disposed to economy, you can pursue the
‘ d im
s ‘ ae
102 Glances at Summer Resorts.
ordinary lavish American way of taking rooms at a
caravansera, and paying for every thing at the regular
rates.
The first step in seeing Niagara is to dress your
wife in one of her most expensive suits. Yourself
ditto. Your wife then goes into the parlors on exhi-
bition. You light a cigar, go out on the verandah,
and put your heels high up ona column. While.
your wife finds out if any body has any more expen-
sive clothes than she, you occupy yourself in trying
to stare some woman out of countenance.
As a general thing, your last effort will be a failure.
Sometimes, after people have examined each other
for a week or so, in the parlors and at the dinner-
table, they take a fancy to go out and look at some
water which, at this place, runs over a hill. This is
not always done. Nevertheless, when there is a lull
in other affairs, some of the more energetic visitors
go out and visit the river.
The water falls over the precipice at a point some
sixty feet from the rear of the hotel. To visit this
remarkable phenomenon, you negotiate for a ba-
rouche, a pair of horses, and a driver.
To get over this sixty feet, you get in the carriage
and are driven slowly down the river for three miles.
This is what happened to me.
When I had been driven toward the Falls for three
miles, the driver said we were at the whirlpool.
[ paid him a dollar for the information, and then went
down to see the whirlpool.
You have an excellent view of the whirlpool from
the top of the bank. But there are stairs which go
Magara. 103
down to the water, where the view is not half so
good, owing to the lowness of the situation. You
can go down in half an hour, if you hurry. When
you get down to the bottom, you can see nothing,
and therefore prepare to ascend.
It is broiling hot, and an ascent of five hundred
steps stairs you in the face.
When one reaches the top, he has just enough life
in him to be able to read a sign which has been hung
up while he was away: ‘‘One dollar each, to be
appropriated for the benefit of orphans.”
My representation to the young man, that I aman
orphan, produced no effect. It was some other
orphan that he labored for. He was an orphan of
about fifty years. I felt sorry for his motherless con-
dition.
There is another desolate orphan there, who is
armless, and who is bereft of his parents at the tender
age of sixty-five. For being an orphan, and for not
having any arms, he collects a dollar from each visitor.
Paying the driver another dollar for having waited
for me, I continued the journey to the falls. The
next move in getting to the Falls consists in driving
over into Canada. For the privilege of going over
into Canada, one pays a man a dollar.
The Canadian journey to the Falls is romantic and
full of incident. You begin by paying something to
a woman who charges for passing her house.
The next view of the Falls is a blind man with a
camera. You pay him something. There is a leg-
less man with a prism. You pay him something.
Another fine view of the Falls occurs here. You
104. Glances at Summer Pesorts.
pay a man five dollars for a photograph of yourself
seated in your carriage.
As you drive along you obtain views of the Falls
by disbursing at a hotel for lemonades, to another
blind man, to an Indian, to somebody who exhibits
a stuffed wild-cat, to a woman with fawns, to a man
with rocks, and some sixty or seventy others. The
regular minimum charge of each one of these is one
dollar.
After having paid these respective charges the car-
riage goes back to the hotel, and drives over on Go-it
Island. There is a charge of one dollar for going on’
Go-it Island.
The drive is a fine one. Being completely shut in
with trees, it is shady and cool. In the distance one
catches glimpses of water.
Returning to the hotel, after a drive of five hours,
I dismissed the carriage, and then walked out on the
back porch, and, for the first time, got a view of the
Falls.
The next day I went under the Falls. For going
under the Falls, you pay somebody two dollars.
Going under the Falls can be arranged at home by
people who are not millionaires, and who can not
afford to visit Niagara. To arrange it at home, a
person should array himself in a close-fitting suit of
oil-cloth. This done, let him have a servant screw
a hose on a fire-plug, and then play the stream full
in his face. Let this be continued for ten minutes ;
after which he should, to keep up the imitation of
Niagara, pay the servant five dollars, and then com-
_ as
Niagara. 105
mence doctoring himself for the catarrh, a tremen-
dous cold, and a severe attack of rheumatism.
From what I saw of the Falls, I should say that
they are fine, and rather wet.
People who can not afford to visit Niagara, can get
up substitutes at home, which will differ in no essen-
tial particular from Niagara itself.
The best substitute that occurs to me is for a man
to put all his capital in a bank, and then get a run on
him. As he sees the last dollar of his fortune being
paid out, he will feel as one does who is at Niagara.
» Another excellent substitute, and a cheap one, is
for a man to put all his money in his pocket, and
then allow himself to be garroted. As he feels an
arm compressing his neck, and a hand “ going
through” his pockets, he will feel pretty much as
one does at Niagara.
Altogether the finest view of the Falls is to be had
at the dinner-table. The waterfalls there visible are
immense.
The number of people who are here engaged in
defrauding the government of the income tax, in im-
poverishing themselves, and in beggaring their unfor-
tunate and foredoomed offspring, is very great. It is
a well-dressed crowd. Some of it is good-looking.
There are some young women here. They are
lovely. To say that they are here in search of hus-
bands, would be a slander on their sex; young
women never do such things. They are here be-
cause their parents have found that money is a
burden and a sin, and have come here to rid them-
selves of it.
5m
106 Glances at Summer Resorts.
IN THE COUNTRY.
Tus point lies somewhere between Niagara Falls
and Saratoga. I came hither by way of the New
York Central Railroad.
It is a place which is not famous, as a general
thing. No great battle was ever fought here. ‘There
is a legend concerning a man who was scalped here
by Indians something like a century or two ago.
Waiving the many doubts that assail the authen-
ticity of the occurrence, the public will find in this
event the most exciting one that ever took place
here.
But, to me, it is a place of the most immense im-
portance. It is the birthplace of a person in whom
I have the most profound interest. ‘This person is
to me the most important individual in existence.
With his past I have been most intimately associa-
ted. In his future, I have a most absorbing interest.
This important individual is none other than —
myself.
This place is a good deal in the country. Its
most populous point is its cemetery. Unlike the
country about it, the cemetery is growing in popula-
tion; and is liable to improvement. It is the only
settlement to whose suburbs there are ever made ad-
ditions. While every thing else stands still, that
goes ahead. While all other lots are quiet, its lots
are advancing in price.
One who leaves Chicago for a month, or any
other western town for a few weeks, will scarcely,
Ln the Country. 107
on his return, recognize the place, owing to the 1m-
provements. An absence of twenty years from this
characteristic eastern place shows, perhaps, a new
coat of paint on some fence, or a new clapboard in
some house. Otherwise one finds things as if he
had left them but a week ago.
A dog rushed out from a yard and barked at me
as I came up, and then, with dropped tail, dodged a
vicious cut from the horse-whip, and took sanctuary
behind the fence through a hole under the gate. I
could almost swear that the same dog had come out
at me, in the same manner, and made his escape
through the same hole, under the same gate, and
had then stood and barked at me through the same
fence, a quarter of a century ago.
One who comes back, after an absence of a few
years, will be very apt to fancy that his absence is
only a dream, and that he has slept only a night.
The only thing that will correct this idea is to no-
tice how the grave-yard is swollen. ‘There are also
threads of silver in locks that were glossy brown
when he went away. Other faces are missing, as if
they had gone away in the night. ‘There are like-
wise young and strange faces that meet him here
and there.
But chiefly does one recognize that he has not
been dreaming, and that the ponderous years have
rolled away into the insatiable past, by facts con-
nected with population and of interest to the census-
taker. You call around to see Almani, whom you
left a rosy, romping, gushing thing of sweet sixteen.
You find her a matronly dame, with crow’s-feet
108 Glances at Summer Resorts.
around her eyes, and long lines engraven upon either
cheek. A strapping youth, with whiskers, is an-
nounced as her oldest. A healthy infant sucks its
thumbs upon her lap, and stares at you with ‘‘ round-
eyed wonder.” It is the youngest. Between the
whiskers and z¢ with the nourishing thumb, there is
a girl with bare legs, a boy that last winter ‘* went
through the ’rithmetic,” and some more boys that
develop incipient tendencies, to the maternal eye,
toward theology and the spiritual charge of the
white church on the hill.
Such spectacles set the visitor, who has been away
out into the world for a few years, to feeling the bald
spot on his cranium, to ascertain its precise extent,
and to wondering what the d—l Time is in such a
hurry about.
Confusion to these women who, in place of remain-
ing in cozy and perpetual maidenhood, grow wrink-
led and attenuated, and thrust in the face of the
returned wanderer their fifteen-pound babies, to
remind him that he is growing old! This chronol-
ogy of population; these evidences afforded by the
processes of multiplying and replenishing the earth ;
these assertions contained in pap, and diapers, and
small clothes — have given me a fit of the horrors.
My gums seem almost toothless, my head brainless,
my body juiceless, and my legs attenuated into the
‘shrunk shank,” whose ‘“slippered pantaloons”
seem a world and a half ‘‘ too wide” for their with-
ered and ancient contents.
Let me advise him who is happy in the belief that
the shadows of old age are still far distant in the fu-
Saratoga. 109
ture, to avoid, after prolonged absences, the home of
his childhood. If not, he may awake to the unpleas-
ant fact that the sunset of life is just on the horizon,
and that already the gray twilight of coming night
is reflected in his hair, while its gloom is narrowing
swiftly the horizon of his existence.
Amusements in the country, hereabouts, are rather
scarce. A box or any other operatic seat is not to
be had for any consideration. Grau was not hither-
wards on his last tour. Ristori has hitherto avoided
this locality. Ole Bull, for some inexplicable rea-
son, went by on the other side. Kellogg was not
here last year, or the year before, or any other year.
Brignoli, Gottschalk, Zucchi, Heller, Hartz, Mo-
rensi, Hermanns, Hableman, and some fifteen 01
twenty others, have not been here of late, or at any
other time.
The only one that was ever here was Gough.
Gough was once here. He never came but once.
In this particular, the place has a edie, advantage
over Chicago.
SARATOGA.
As it may not be generally known, I will state
that Saratoga is a watering-place. One goes to
Niagara to see water. One does not come here to
see water. Sea-water is not good to drink. People
come to Saratoga to drink water.
I have observed that a great deal of water is drunk
here. A large class of people who drink it is
composed of invalid gentlemen with red eyes and
IIO Glances at Summer Resorts.
swollen noses. They patronize mainly Congress Hall
spring. It is located in the basement.
Two invalids or more usually go to the spring
together. A high counter is erected before the spring.
Behind this is the attendant.
The attendant is a man with a dyed moustache,
hair elaborately oiled and curled, and clad in a white
apron,
The invalids arrange themselves before the spring
and name their water. Each man habitually takes
about one-third of a tumblerfull. The spring water
has usually a reddish tinge, and looks a good deal
like Chicago brandy.
When the invalids drink, they generally remark:
altere.s tuck ay
The spring here spoken of is very popular. The
invalids go to it at intervals of from fifteen minutes
to half an hour. When a man drinks the health-
giving-water, he usually grimaces. From this fact,
I infer that it is not pleasant to the taste.
That it is wonderfully healthful, [know. There is
an invalid whom I saw drinking some of it some
weeks ago. He was then thin and pale. He is still
drinking it, and has grown very fleshy. He is no
longer pale, especially his nose and the whites of his
eyes. He is now the most rubicund, fat, and shaky
picture of health I ever saw.
The great majority of visitors who visit here, come
for the purpose of drinking the mineral waters.
There are two ways of drinking Saratoga water.
One is to stay at home and buy it by the bottle of the
druggist. The other is to buy six or seven three-story
>
Saratoga. III
trunks, fill them with your wife’s clothing, and then,
after putting up your own clothing in a carpet-bag,
to come here. ‘To get here, one usually stops a few
weeks by the way at Niagara, Newport, Long
Branch, and other prominent points.
The last mentioned way of drinking the health-
giving waters of Saratoga is the most fashionable.
It is no better in a sanitary point of view than the
other. But it gives your wife a better show.
No woman can prosper on Saratoga water with
less than thirty-four distinct changes of apparel.
To get the full benefit of the mineral water, the
visitor stops at Congress Hall. It is the largest hotel
here. The larger the hotel, the better the effect of
drinking the water. A room on the first floor is
more conducive to health than one on the floor above.
Mineral water poured inside a thousand-dollar dress
with a woman in it, is much more beneficial than
when the dress costs only thirty-five dollars.
Drinking Saratoga water is healthful. The ladies
drink it by changing their dresses some 28 times per
week. Sometimes they take the water by getting
up a flirtation. The men drink it at the spring
heretofore noticed. At other times, they drink it by
laying white or red chips on a card. Another way
consists in five men getting around a table in a room.
Each man lights a cigar, takes about one-third of a
tumbler of spring water, and then begins operation.
There is health in this method, because I heard one
man say something about ‘ going better.” Another
man said something about a “ flush.” I suppose
he meant a flush of health. Another nan mentioned
112 Glances at Summer Resorts.
something about a ‘ full.” He looked so happy
that he must have meant that he was full of satisfac-
tion, or joy, or something. Another man got so
strong that he ‘‘ raised” the other four, all at once.
Another favorite way for a gentleman to imbibe
the health-giving water, is for him to put an eye-
glass across his nose, his feet on the top rail of the
balustrade of the verandah, a chew of tobacco in his
mouth, and then to spit between the rails. Isee
gentleman doing this by the hour. Occasionally
they get up, go down in the basement where the
spring is, and then come back wiping their mouths
with their pocket-handkerchiefs.
While the gentleman thus recuperate by spitting
through the railings, the ladies promenade up and
down the piazza. A woman who is taking a full
course of mineral waters retires to change her dress
every time she crosses the piazza once.
In the evening, there is what is called a hop. A
hop is a process in the curative operations of mineral
waters.
At a hop every body at the hotel puts on a new
and expensive dress, and all his or her finery. All
then go to the spacious dining-room, and sit down in
chairs. There is a band, that is led by a romantic
youth of 58, with a bald head and moustache. After
the band has played several airs, a young man with
his hair parted by compass exactly in the middle,
with narrow shoulders, thin legs, patent-leathers,
and an eye-glass, steps into the small space survound-
ed by the spectators.
Along with him is a young woman with a wasp-
“=
~- ‘
es
Green Mountains. 113
waist, an enormous and expensive (considering the
price of elevators) mammary development, twelve
pounds of false hair, and costume tucked up behind,
a@ la washerwoman. These two hitch together,
thrust out two united arms laterally, and commence
revolving.
As they do so, the crowd watches breathlessly the
color of the young woman’s garters, and the frilled
and laced whirl of her under-clothing.
The mysterious and beautiful turmoil of revolving
and immaculate linen enchains the eye of every male
spectator.
These two revolve until the slender youth shows
signs of faintness, and the young woman has left
little or nothing to be solved by the imagination.
These hops are the most delightful and beautiful
of the curative operations of mineral water. Of
three or four hundred who attend a hop, as many as
six or eight usually dance. Between the intervals
of the dances, young ladies who do not dance, but
who have on a new dress, walk across the space
occupied by the dancers.
GREEN MOUNTAINS.
HAVING successively exhibited all the various suits
of clothing in my family party, and finding my
finances getting low, in consequence of- responding
Lo the appeals for pecuniary aid of the gentlemanly
landlord with whom I resided, I concluded to hunt
a cheaper locality. When one leaves Niagara or
114 Glances: at Summer Resorts.
Saratoga, after a lengthened sojourn, his most
natural destination is a poor-house.
But it was not in search of a poor-house that I
came hitherwards. I am not disposed to slander
Vermont hospitality with any such remark. -
If a man who has been stopping a few weeks at
Niagara or Saratoga can not get admittance to a
poor-house, the next best thing he can do is to
“take” the bankrupt act. A receipted hotel-bill
from either these places will be accepted by any
bankrupt-commissioner as final evidence of remediless
poverty. It ought to procure his discharge without
further difficulty.
To get to Vermont from Saratoga, one goes to
Whitehall, and thence to Rutland. Between the
two places, the Vermont line is crossed. I knew
we had crossed it by the coming on the train of a
stranger who sat down by me, and commenced an
acquaintance by inquiring where I was going, how
long I was going to stay, where I came from, what
the price of butter was when I left, and whether I
knew Deacon Doggett, who lived out in Illinois.
From Rutland to Burlington, one passes a few
handsome villages and some rocks. There is a great
variety of the latter. They are piled up to immense
heights. A little timber is scattered over them, and
some grass grows here and there among the crevices.
Here these crevices are fenced in, and are called
pastures. All the cattle that pasture on these crevi-
ces are rigged out with brakes, without which they
could not get down the hills.
My present stopping-place is at the foot of the
Green Mountains. II5
Green Mountains, a few miles east of Burlington.
The country is primitive, and there are some rocks
here. The inhabitants are distinguished for longey-
ity, hospitality, radicalism, asthma, the use of patent
medicines, and for being pervaded with an insane
idea that this portion of Vermont is the location ot
the original Eden.
A man of note in this vicinity has from 50 to 100
cows, 600 acres of land, a span of No. 1 horses, two
fancy sheep, and a sugar-orchard. A man who has
all these may run for the Assembly if he pleases, or
be a deacon in the Church.
Real estate hereabouts is mostly rocks set up on
edge, with grassy crevices for the cows. M4 a” 5 \ ‘4 ‘
a ee ee ee a ee ol eee
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 135
character. The next man who was put on guard
inside the door was a butternut, who had an im-
mense sabre, with a steel scabbard, a home-made
bowie-knife, a pair of revolvers, and a double-bar-
reled shot-gun. He kept his eyes constantly upon
me, and his finger on the trigger of his gun.
A little before midnight the door opened, and
there entered a man six feet four, mainly legs, beard-
ed, sun-browned, with a torn, slouch hat, and fingers
with long, dirty talons. He glared savagely at me
for a moment, and then said:
‘‘ Stranger, d’ye want a little draw poker?”
I informed him in the blandest of tones that I
would be delighted, but I was “ strapped,” and that
I couldn’t play if the bet was limited to a single
shirt-button. He went away muttering.
A little later, the door opened, and there staggered
in a heavy-set rufhan, in an advanced state of intoxi-
cation. He carried in his right hand an immense
horse-pistol, upon whose nipple I caught the red
gleam of the cap. He lurched into the room and
fixed, or tried to fix, his bloodshot eyes upon my
figure.
‘* Lemme guard these Yankee sonsbishes,” said
he, ‘‘ I want to shoot Yankee sonabish, by G—d.”
He stood swaying upon his feet, and trying to
cover me with his pistol. The guard made no re-
mark, but as the pistol was not cocked, I felt no im-
mediate alarm.
The room had been a barber’s shop, and there re-
mained a single chair, into which, after vainly trying
to get a bead on me, he staggered. He almost in-
136 Army and Other Sketches.
stantly fell into a drunken slumber, during which he
muttered in broken sentences, and gave utterance to
half articulate oaths and blasphemies.
He slept but a few moments, and then roused into
wakefulness. He stared wildly at the wall, then his
lowering, bloody eyes slowly wandered about the
room till they fell on me.
‘Yankee son-of-a-bish—shoot you by G—d.”
This time he fumbled with the hammer of his pis-
tol, and succeeded in cocking it. Again he essayed
to cover me with its muzzle, which looked larger to
me than the opening of a barrel. But his nerveless
hand could not obey the demands of the ruffianly
soul, and again he gave up the attempt, and relapsed
into partial insensibility.
A half-dozen times during the night did he awake,
and menace me with his pistol. He was on the
verge of deltrium tremens. When asleep, his mut-
terings, his imprecations, his savage blasphemies,
were inexpressibly terrible. Toward daylight some
of his comrades entered, gave him a tin dipper full
of brandy, and a moment later he fell into a stupor
from which he did not recover till after daylight.
There were no other interruptions of note during
the night, save that occasionally some swart skeleton
in butternut would open the door, gaze in curiously
for a minute or two, and, after paying me the inevi-
table compliment of calling me a ** Yankee son of a
—,” would go away.
Daylight came after a month or six weeks, or some
similarly approximative eternal period. Soon after
1 aie
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. T37
reappeared Major Savery. With him came one of
his lieutenants, named Charles Martin.
I related my experiences of the night. Savery was
sympathetic. The African, having slept over it,
took another look at me by daylight, and concluded
I was not ‘“ Cap’en of de ban’.”
I cultivated Martin assiduously. I was rewarded
at noon by being released on parole, and by being
invited around by Martin, who was a native of the
place, to dinner.
He had a charming home, a beautiful and _ intelli-
gent wife, and was himself the biggest desperado
on the Missouri river. He was not over five feet two
in height, and yet, as I have since learned, he killed,
before the war, a half-dozen men in broils and sin-
gle-handed fights.
He took a fancy to me, for some reason, and we
were inseparable during my stay in the Confederate
lines. He professed, and I believe entertained, a
liking for me, and yet he tried, in a quiet way, to
kill me, on two occasions. I occupied a bed at his
house, and he slept in an adjoining room. The sec-
ond night we came in late, and both retired. I had
been in bed a half hour or so, when, feeling feverish,
I rose quietly and went to the wash-stand to bathe
my face. ‘The stand sat against the wall next to his
room; and, in moving the pitcher, I made a slight
noise. Instantly it flashed over me that he might
think I was listening against the wall; and the next
moment, in swift silence, I hurried back to the bed,
noiselessly entered, and drew up the clothes. [had .
but just done so, when the door of Martin’s room
138 Army and Other Sketches.
opened without sound, and I saw him thrust out his
head and his right arm, in the hand of which was a
revolver. He turned quickly to the place where I
had made a noise a moment before, but there was
nobody there. He glanced atthe bed. I was there,
and snoring.
The next night we fell to discussing the battle of
Wilson’s Creek. He said the federal force was
20,000. I said that it was less than 6,000.
“Then I Jie, do I?” he remarked anthesis
way imaginable. At the same moment he was stab-
bing with the point of his sabre into the sill of a
window; but, as he asked the question, I saw him
‘‘oather himself.”
Had I said yes, the next stab with his sabre would
have been directly into my breast. Despite his non-
chalance and calmness, there were a dozen murders
in a glance which I caught of his eye, as he uncon-
cernedly asked me the question.
Iam not writing now an account of the defence
made by the gallant Mulligan. I have done this be-
fore, and the affair has become a matter of history.
Suffice it that I remained till the Sunday after the
surrender, which took place on Friday. In company
with Martin, during the progress of the fight, I vis-
ited the rebel lines, and for once was in front, in place
of behind, federal bullets.
I will only add, in relation to my further experi-
ence, that, during my stay, I received only the most
courteous treatment, after the first night of my cap-
ture. I was afforded every facility for writing up
my accounts, and when I left, on Sunday, I was
A Bohemian Among the Reéels. 139
bidden a cordial good-bye by General Price, and
was presented with a horse by my courteous little
friend, Charley Martin. I recrossed to Utica, took
the cars to St. Louis, and was the first to announce
to the public the details of the siege of Lexington.
PAP FULLER’S GAME OF POKER.
m ITEN the present President of the United
f States was engaged in the task of trying
i to capture Vicksburg, there was a good
mie deal of spare time for almost any thing.
The particular time of which I speak was in Feb-
ruary of 1863, when the Federal army, or armies,
lay on the river above and opposite the Confederate
tye... a: tee
General Grant did not, apparently, know what to
do, and all the rest of the army was pretty much in
the same nonplussed condition. Having nothing to
do except to do nothing, every one resorted to some
means to kill time. To capture the man with the
hour-glass was as much a subject of planning and
campaigning as the capture of the rebel city.
Accordingly, there sprang into existence no end
of inventions to kill. When the weather permitted
there was base-ball, quoits, and horse-racing. Occa-
sionally some body got drunk by way of variety.
I think that a gentleman who ran for Vice-Presi-
dent of the United States, last fall, could afford some
statistics of high interest with reference to this class
of pastimes.
But out-door amusement was not to be depended
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. I4t,
on. When it did not rain, which it did nearly all
the time, it was so muddy that land locomotion was
largely of the wading style of progress. Therefore,
every body staid in his tent, or on the boats, and got
rid of time after the most available process.
A fine littlhe amusement, and a favorite one, was
one known as draw-poker—called, for short, among
its more familiar friends, “draw.” Every body
‘‘drawed” who had $5 of his own money, or who
could negotiate a loan to that amount from an ac-
commodating friend. But there were a few capital-
ists who hung about the steamboats. They were
chiefly cotton-buyers, who were excluded by Grant’s
rigid orders from going beyond the lines. They had
money in plenty, and were always regarded as a val-
uable accession to a ‘little game of draw, just for
amusement, you know.”
Other valuable adjuncts to the same beautiful little
game were the higher officers, who always seemed
to have plenty of greenbacks ; quartermasters, whose
resources, considering their small salaries, were
amazing ; paymasters, who were always plethoric ;
and some Kentuckians, who were down there watch-
ing the progress of events, and passionately fond ot
whisky, ‘‘ draw,” and moderately non-committal on
the question of the negro.
On the steamer Thomas E. Tutt, which lay four
or five miles above Vicksburg, poker was the fash-
ionable amusement. It was the supply-boat of Gen.
Steele’s command, and was often the headquarters
of the general himself. One of his quartermasters
was Captain, otherwise and familiarly known as
142 Army and Other Sketches.
“Pap” Fuller. ‘‘ Pap” was from Illinois; and if
the old gentleman loved any thing in the world it
was a ‘nice little game of draw, just to kill time.”
When I went to my state-room, at three A.M., I left
him indulging in draw. When I got up next morn-
ing I found him in the same business, and trying to
‘‘raise” somebody ‘ out,” ‘ before the draw,” ‘on
two little pairs.”
The captain had accompanied Curtis in his march
through Arkansas, and, it was said, he had played
draw the entire trip. In any case, he reached
Helena several thousand ahead; and this substantial
capital was being increased before Vicksburg, until
there occurred the incident I am about to relate.
One day an arrival from Memphis discharged,
among other things, a couple of travelers, who an-
nounced themselves as cotton-dealers, They got
on board the Tutt, and very soon, by their plausible
manners, made the acquaintance of the regular habit-
ues of that dilapidated old steamer.
They had plenty of money, and knew nothing of
any game of cards. The former was proved by
their depositing, in the safe of the boat, some bulky
packages of greenbacks; and the latter was estab-
lished by their own assertions. Nevertheless, they
took a decided interest in the game of “ draw.”
They sat about the tables, looked into the players’
hands, congratulated the winners, and sympathized
with the losers.
A. man who can learn any thing can learn poker,
after having seen it played for a week or two. No-
body was very much surprised, therefore, to discover,
‘ é
a
a".
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 143
after a fortnight, that both of the new-comers had
become participants in the game.
Both were cautious, awkward, and small players.
A “ five-cent” game was most to their liking, and
any one could ‘trun them off” with a two-dollar bet.
But they improved slowly, although they lost con-
stantly. Gradually they progressed from a five-cent
game up to the regular game of a dollar “blind.”
Both seemed to like to play at the same table with
Pap Fuller. They lost their money with a good
grace, and just the proper amount of chagrin over
their bad luck and their lack of knowledge of so
beautiful a game.
Quite unexpectedly, one night, their luck began
to change. They had astounding luck. They won,
between them, something like $250. It was very
singular, as Pap Fuller observed. He was the prin-
cipal loser.
‘It’s d—d singular,” remarked that usually lucky
veteran. ‘‘I never held such hands in my life!
Curse me if they didn’t scoop me every time !”
The next night it was the same, only more so.
The two greenhorns were fearfully lucky. The
game broke up at breakfast. Pap Fuller was some
$300 out.
I found the old gentleman, a couple of hours later,
sitting dejectedly in his state-room. A tumbler ot
whisky cheered his solitude.
‘See here,” said the captain, with a most lugu-
brious shake of the head, ‘‘ I’m cussed if I see into
this ’ere little arrangement. Nobody ever beat old
Pap Fuller in that style afore, especially two green
144 Army and Other Sketches.
uns never done it. The old man is playin’ out, I
reckon.” And he concluded his oration with a pro-
found sigh.
All-that day Pap was invisible, save to one or two.
I called at his state-room once or twice. He occu-
pied precisely the same position. He muttered to
himself constantly. ‘‘ Every time I had ‘ threes’ one
on ’em or the tother had a ‘flush.’ Ef I had two
little pair, one or tother ov ’em was sure to lay over
me—sfecially when one or tother on’em had the
deal! Green are they? Well, now, p’r’aps, and
then again, p’r’aps zof. Pap, you’re a cussed old
idiot.”
In this sort of way the captain delivered himself,
talking sometimes to me and sometimes to himself.
And so the day wore away. Night came, and
with it poker. Then, and not till then, did Pap
emerge from his den.
I looked curiously at the old man. He seemed
somewhat subdued and humiliated. He took his
seat at the table. The two strangers were already
in place.
The game began, and the captain lost. At mid-
night he had lost $400. The two cotton-buyers were
the ‘* big” winners.
‘¢ See here, boys,” said Pap, ‘“ I’m a losing a good
deal of money. Let’s change the ante and see if it
will change the luck.”
‘How much?” queried one of the cotton-buyers.
‘¢ Well, let’s make the ‘ blind’ $25.”
I was astounded. The cotton-buyers objected, but
I detected a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of both,
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 145
despite their objections. I feared they would yield—
and they did.
My first impression was that old Pap had become
insane, or utterly reckless. Nevertheless, there was
a tightening of his lips that indicated something. I
placed myself behind him to watch his hand. I ex-
pected something, I knew not what.
His manner of discarding surprised me. Every
time the deal was with one of the cotton-buyers,
Fuller would get a small pair. When the hands
Wweres nerped there came to him “threes.” . In-
stead of keeping the pair, he began to discard it,
keeping an ace and king whenever he had them.
Several times could he have made a “ full” had he
kept his ‘‘ pair.” I began to think he was mad. He
lost, but not much. Occasionally, he would ‘ call”
a hand, but generally, with an anathema on his luck,
he threw up his hand. I only saw that he was hold-
ing an ace and king when he could get them, and
throwing away good pairs.
By-and-by it happened that he got a pair of jacks,
an ace, king, and another. He discarded the jacks,
held the ace and king, and called for three cards. To
my unbounded astonishment, when the hands were
helped, he received three kings.
He now held four kings, with an ace, the highest
hand in the game! Ina moment the whole policy
of the wary old rat flashed over me.
He led off by betting $10. The next man ‘ went
out.” ‘The next was one of the cotton-dealers. He
raised the captain $25. The next man was the other
dealer, and he, after some pretended anxiety, ‘‘ went
7
146 Army and Other Sketches.
$50 better.” The next man passed out. To his left
was Pap.
. The veteran’s face seemed to express infinite dis-
satisfaction over the heavy betting. He hesitated,
and then “saw” the $50 “ better.”
The first cotton man deliberated awhile, and then
raised the pile $100. No. 2 was astounded at such
heavy betting, thought of laying down, but finally
went over his friend. Again Pap called the man on
his right.
In this way the betting went on. Fuller always
called the last man, and the other going a little
higher each time. Ina few minutes the amount on
‘the table reached the respectable sum of $1,700.
Up to this point the bets had been by fifties and
hundreds. At this juncture the captain reached into
his inside vest pocket, and pulled out an enormous
roll of bills.
‘¢ Gentlemen,” said he,. ‘Im going 40 makemes
spoon or spoila horn. I raise that last $2,000 ;” so
saying he laid four $500 bills on the piles.
The cotton-dealers seemed suddenly taken aback.
They shot suspicious glances at the cast-iron visage
of old Pap, but it was as void of expression as the
face of an anvil. They studied, hesitated, and shift-
ed about uneasily. Finally one went up to the safe
of the boat and brought out their ‘pile. It was just
large enough for one of them to call. He “ called”
Fuller, and the other went out.
The cotton-dealer had four tens. The captain ex-
hibited his four kings and raked down the enormous
pile of greenbacks.
Pap Fuller’s Game of Poker. 147
The cotton-dealers turned decidedly pale, and sat
speechless and stupefied. Soon after, without a
word, they withdrew to their state-rooms.
“You see, my boy,” said Pap, as he poured me
out a little ‘* commissary,” “‘I made up my mind
them fellows were sharp. Nobody ever beat me in
a ‘square’ game as they’ve beat me for the last
week.”
eecnawis SO."
**So I studied the thing out. I wasn’t going to
squeal. You seen how I worked it. I just held on
to an ace and king, knowing that bimeby the rest
would come along. Bimeby they did come. Them
cussed fools had put up the keards, and they thought
I had a king ‘full’ with jacks. But you see I didn’t.
Oh no, I guess not.”
And the captain proceeded to arrange, and lay
away, in an iron chest, his winnings, which amount-
ed to something over $5,000.
‘‘[’m more’n even with ’em, I reckon,” said the
veteran with a satisfactory shake of his grizzly head.
The next day the two sharpers borrowed enough
of old Pap to pay their fare to St. Louis. They left
in the next boat, and were never again seen in the
vicinity of the Tutt or Pap Fuller.
RECOLLECTIONS OF GEN. FRED.
STEELE.
eye) I was in 1861 that I became acquainted
a) with the gallant gentleman whose name
heads these recollections. It was in July.
At that time, Lyon, at the head of a small
force, composed of three-months’ volunteers,— some
‘* Missouri Dutchmen,” as they were popularly
termed, — was crossing Missouri, from Booneville to
Springfield.
One night, just before dark, Lyon’s little command
reached the Osage Crossing, where we met another
force, consisting of some Kansas cavalry and a bat-
talion of regular infantry, under command of Major
Sturgis. To our eyes, there was nothing ever half
so warlike and redoubtable as this squadron of Kan-
sas cavalry, as it was drawn up in line to receive us.
With their carbines slung over their shoulders, and
their long steel sabres, the men seemed, to our unso-
phisticated vision, to be invincible. A sentiment
akin to pity percolated through my thoughts as I
thought of the rebels who should be doomed to meet
these heroes.
That evening was occupied, after the camp had
been established, in visiting the new-comers. Being
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 149
a member of that gallant band known as “ Bohe-
mians,” I had the privilege of going where and doing
about as I pleased. Therefore, when the coionel,
who did me the honor to share with me his tent,
mess, and bottle, went over to pay his respects to
Major Sturgis, I was invited to grace the occasion.
Never, perhaps, was there a more representative
military crowd than was embodied in the majority
of those gathered that evening in Major Sturgis’
tent. There were the genial “Sam. Sturgis,’”—so
termed by his familiars of the regular army,—Capt.
Gordon Granger, Capt. Dan. Heuston, Capt. Totten,
Capt. Fred. Steele, Lieuts. Sokalski, Sullivan, and
others,—many of whom have since achieved a world-
wide reputation; and of whom some, alas! have
passed forever beyond the domain of convivial gath-
erings.
At that time, as every one knows, a regular army
officer was something for the mass to look up to. I
well remember the momentary daze which came
over me as I was introduced to so many luminaries
that had risen in the orient of West Point. It speaks
volumes, likewise, for the suavity of these gentlemen,
to state that, although ununiformed and introduced
as plain Mr. , and without any allusion being
made to my profession, not one of these men, during
the evening, forgot or mispronounced my name, or
ignored my presence, in the lively and_ prolonged
conversation which ensued. Such an example of
politeness, let me add, is not uncommon among the
older army officers, although it is unfrequent among
no small number of their successors.
150 Army and Other Sketches.
I met, on that evening, two events—if I may so
term them—which I had never met before, and
which I am certain never to forget. One of these
‘events ””—may his shade pardon me !—was Capt.
Fred. Steele; and the other ‘‘ event” was the eléxir
vite, the nectar, of the regular army,—whisky toddy.
Introductions were no more than ended when
Sturgis remarked :
‘‘ Orderly, get out the materials. Gentlemen, I
want you to taste some of Steele’s toddy. He is the
best toddy-maker in the world !”
The delicate, slender, light-featured Capt. Steele
came modestly forward, and, almost blushing under
the encomiums of his chief, went to work. How
carefully and artistically he labored! So much of
the pure sugar, so much water, so much rye; a drop
more or less, a grain too many or little, were ruin,x—
were a catastrophe worse than a daub of house-paint
in the face of Correggio’s Magdalene. The ingre-
dients mixed with a precision greater than that of a
druggist who puts up a prescription wherein a sin-
gle additional grain makes the whole a deadly
poison, — then came the quaffing. The small white
hand of Steele passed around the tin cups, and then, -
with a guttural ‘*‘ How!” each man inverted his
measure just above his lower lip.
Ye gods! zo triumphe !—I shall never forget the
delicious sensations which stole through my system,
like slow-moving, electric flashes, as the concoction
ran down my throat. The brew of Steele is abso-
lufely. indescribable.
Accedant capiti cornua, Bacchus eris.
Fecollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 151
But, in that tent on the Osage, one needed not to
put on horns to become Bacchus; he, the rather,
swallowed a “horn” of Steele’s concoction, and
straightway became a god.
Such are my first recollections of Steele. He
struck me then for his finished elegance of manner.
As toddy succeeded toddy, voices grew louder, and
bursts of laughter rang out wide through the forest.
Steele alone did not become boisterous. His pale
cheeks simply became delicately tinted, as if from a
touch of rouge; his blue eyes lighted up, as if from
inspiration ; and his thin voice became stronger, but
not louder, as the wassail grew fast and furious.
Steele was never demonstrative. And so the cool-
ness with which he faced the iron and leaden storm
at Wilson’s Creek was not recognized as a trait
requiring universal panegyric or immediate promo-
tion.
The next time I saw him was at Helena, in No-
vember of 1862. He was in command of the post.
Wishing facilities for getting about, I called at his
headquarters. I wrote my request on a card, and
sent it in by an orderly. He returned almost in-
stantly with a request to come in. A shaking of
hands, and then an adjournment to a small room ad-
joining, in which was a sideboard, and on which
was a row of gleaming decanters. Close by was
sugar ; and soon there came water. Steele, although
then a major-general, had not forgotten his cunning.
He mixed as dextrously as when a captain; and I
could not taste the slightest depreciation in the char-
acter of his production.
152 Army and Other Sketches.
It was but a little later that Sherman’s force de-
scended the Mississippi river and debarked on the
Yazoo bottom. I accompanied General Steele on
the steamer ‘ Continental.” We overtook Christ-
mas, or Christmas overtook us, on our way down.
The grand old anniversary was celebrated in due
form. I retired soon after dark to escape what I
knew would prove an all-night symposium. For
hours, sleep was chased away by a jollity that found
vent in song, anecdote, and laughter. The next-
morning saw a humbled crowd among those who,
toward noon, crept painfully from their berths.
Steele alone was an exception. Up betimes in the
morning, his eye was as clear, his voice as free from
huskiness, and his hand as firm as though the pre-
ceding night had been one of profound repose.
And here, as I approach the battle of Chickasaw
Bayou, let me diverge to state something which I do
not think was ever before published. On the night
that we reached Johnson’s Landing, on the Yazoo, a
party of us gathered in the ‘‘ texas” of a steamer, to
while away the evening with a game of cards. One
of the players was Colonel John B. Wyman, whose
name will meet with universal recognition. Who
the other players were, does not matter.
All that evening Wyman was abstracted and un-
easy. When playing, he played badly and carelessly,
as if his mind were on some other subject. Between
the deals he would rise and pace the narrow room,
with bowed head and preoccupied air.
‘¢ What is it, colonel?” I asked.
“IT don’t know, myself. I think I shall fight to-
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 153
morrow. My boys have never had a brush yet. I
want them to do well.”
*¢ They will, of course.”
“Oh, yes, I'll bet they will! But, Christ! how
uneasy Lam. I wish i could hear from home. My
wife ” and here his voice sank into a mutter
which was undistinguishable.
And so till midnight. As we were about to part
for the night, I said:
“Colonel, if you take your boys on the bluff to-
morrow, it will give you a star.”
“Yes, I know; but something will happen, I
am sure.”
And then, with a preoccupied air, he added, as if
to himself, ‘If I could only hear from home, —from
my wife
And I heard no more. The next morning, in a
preliminary movement, he was shot through the
lungs. In less than twenty-four hours after we parted,
I saw him again, —this time a corpse.
Just before dark Steele moved his command, on
the extreme federal left, into position, in front of the
rebel lines. We pushed out along a high levee, and
then the command deployed off to the left, and lay
down. It was as dark as Erebus, and cold as the
lowermost of Dante’s hells. An assault had been
ordered at daylight next morning. As we were un-
der the rebel guns, no fires could be lighted.
Just before daybreak, Steele’s orderly built a little
fire behind the gnarled roots of an immense cedar,
and proceeded to boil some coffee. Around the tiny
blaze were gathered Generals Steele ; Hovey, of the
7 fi
154 Army and Other Sketches.
Illinois Normal School; Thayer, of Nebraska; and
myself.
A. day or two before, I had picked up a copy of
Andrews’ Ovid, near some deserted house. As we
gathered about the fire, Steele noticed the end of the
book protruding from my haversack. He pulled it
out and opened it. Turning by chance to the ac-
count of the nuptials of Perseus and Andromeda, he
read aloud, giving a line in Latin, and then render-
ing itin English. At length he came to the passage:
** pnennisque fugacem
Pegason et fratrem, matris de sanguine.’’
Here he seemed to have some doubt as to the precise
meaning of a word. Then occurred a discussion
which was classical and profound, and might have
continued indefinitely, had not Hovey given an opin-
ion, which, owing to his Normal School precedents,
was acquiesced in as being beyond appeal.
I relate this little incident simply to show Steele’s
complete indifference to danger. Not half a mile
away lay a line of rebel rifle pits which were to be
stormed. Just beyond them rose heights bristling
with heavy guns, every one of which commanded
our camp. An attack was expected to be made
within a few minutes, and which every body knew
must be a failure. And yet, at this precise moment,
Steele was as cool and unrufHled as if the next move
were to be to breakfast instead of battle. When the
moment came for attack, Steele moved forward along
a road swept by rebel guns as coolly as if he were
leading his company at dress-parade.
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 155
I might relate any number of instances of Steele’s
behavior in battle, every one of which would prove
him a man who, if not absolutely insensible to fear,
never allowed the shadow of apprehension to dwell
upon his face. Once, on the march from Jackson to
Vicksburg, I saw him enter alone a store which was
filled with a maddened crowd of Federal soldiers,
who were drunk to desperation, and who presented
their loaded muskets at the breasts of their own off-
cers. With only a small revolver in his hand, he
dashed into the very centre of the howling mass, and
in three minutes he had driven every ruffian into the
street. There was a murderous glare in his eye, and
a compression of his lips, which carried a meaning
that no one of the plundering horde could misun-
derstand.
Of his charges on the rgth of May, at Vicksburg,
and his subsequent military career, I need not speak.
In every instance he showed himself impervious to
danger.
As a commander, Steele was better calculated to
lead a corps under somebody else, than he was to
have charge of an independent department. He pre-
ferred to execute rather than to plan. It left him a
leisure on his hands which he could devote to social
intercourse and intellectual cultivation.
I believe that he was not married at the time of
his death. He was always an ardent admirer of
women, but mainly in the old, chivalrous way. Full
of anecdote and reminiscence, he yet never made the
frailties of woman the theme of such relation. In
all his acts he treated the sex with a courtly, respect~
ful tenderness.
156 Army and Other Sketches.
His hospitality was unbounded, providing his
guests possessed geniality. His mess was always a
crowded one, most of whom were invited partici-
pants. Any man who was cultivated was always
sure of finding himself welcome.
The intelligence of his death will cause a wide
and profound sorrow. Those who know him well
entertain a respect for his memory second to that
felt for no illustrious man whom the country has lost
since the beginning of the rebellion.
I will close these recollections with a sketch which
I once made of the Jersozzel of General Steeie, at a
time, in 1863, when I was in daily intercourse with
him.
* * * Like a Geneva watch, he presents but
little surface. His merits, the fine machinery and
exquisite balance, are all within. A small and well-
knit’ man of 38; with a hand delicate and white as
a lady’s; light complexion, only preserved from
effeminacy by a flowing beard; eyes of light blue,
and a full, compact forehead; dress neat, elegant,
with a touch of velvet about the cuff and collar;
always free from dust, and as clean as if stepping
out for a dress-parade at his alma mater— West
Point — such are the outer peculiarities of General
Steele. Without ever being over-dressed, he is, I
think, the best dressed and best mounted man in the
army. His prevailing. trait is quietness,—a gentle-
manly sort of repose,—which he carries with him
undisturbed, whether doing the honors of the table
to his friends, or directing the movements of a storm-
ing party, amidst the roar of fiercest battle. Few
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 1547
soldiers among volunteers love, but all respect him.
As a strict, unyielding disciplinarian, he frequently
excites their dislike ; but his unrufled calmness when
surrounded by the surging waves of battle; his pre-
eminent skill in guiding their movements; and the
lightning-like rapidity with which he adapts himself
to the new combinations created in a conflict,—
compel their admiration, and have won their highest
respect.
He chats with you unconcernedly up to the very
moment he enters a battle; and, the instant it is
over, resumes his sociability, and discourses upon
general subjects as if the affair through which he had
passed were of as little account as washing his hands
for dinner.
SOME PEOPLE I HAVE MET,
RAEN the latter part of 1862, for several
#| months, I was in Washington. At that
time, almost every body of note was at
exes) the front; but now and then the capital
was enlivened by the presence of some one who was
worth taking a second look at.
I was standing, one day, in front of the Metropoli-
tan, in company with ason of Dr. Tom Edwards.
** Do you see that little cuss coming along yonder ?”
inquired my companion, as he pointed up the avenue.
Following the line of his index finger, there ap-
peared what I, at first, took to be a boy. It was an
individual scarcely more than four feet nine, and
slender in proportion. He approached us at a tear-
ing gait for such an infant. His slender legs were
alternately planting a delicate patent leather boot on
the sidewalk in what was the double-quick of going
ona walk. A little cane kept time like a pendulum
made of a straw to the swift movement of his ex-
tremities. A little eye-glass bestrode a rather large
nose ; a low-crowned hat was on a small head.
All this I took in as he approached us. The next
moment he shot by us like an infant hurricane. I
had but just time to notice that he had the Federal
eagles on his shoulders, that he was, although whis-
Some People I Have Met 159
kerless, wrinkled up to about forty-five, and that he
marched with the upper portion of his body bent
forward, while his eyes were fixed immovably upon
the ground, at the regulation distance of fifteen paces
to the front, as if he were deeply preoccupied :
“Can’t say [do know him. I should say he is a
very old young man, or a very young old man. Who
is he, any how?”
* That’s Prince Salm Salm.”
ah ei ag
“Yes. A fighter, too, he is! I saw him at Bull
Run. I was running away one way on foot, when I
met him running away the other way ona horse. I
just ketched his bridle, and says I, ‘ Look here, cap-
ten, we want that horse for the artillery ! He jumped
off without a word and struck out on exactly the
same gait that I had just been falling back on. Islid
into his saddle and kept on falling back till I got to
Washington.”
The next time I saw the noble infant, he was
gorgeous in Federal uniform. On his right arm, and
towering a full head above him, was a royal dame,
who, although not really tall, rose to a Juno-like
stature, when contrasted with her slender protector.
Her eyes were large, liquid, and filled with a sort of
oriental languor. ‘They were a blue-black, and
seemed to express infinite tranquillity and self-pos-
session. Her hair was very heavy, of a very dark
brown, and was carried back in bands after a style
which I can not describe, but which gave force to
the character of her head without detracting from
the womanly softness of her face. Her lips were
160 Army and Other Sketches.
full, her mouth handsomely cut, her complexion a
mixture, as if it were the results of combining the
more delicate light and shadow of the blonde and
brunette with the least possible predominance of the
latter.. Her dress was very rich, and yet in no re-
spect gaudy. Her movement was erect and elastic,
her bearing a compromise between haughtiness and
gentleness, with a perceptible dash of both.
In age, she was about twenty-four ; and in appear-
ance, she was a woman whom a man would first
glance at wonderingly, and then turn to look at ad-
miringly. Such was the Princess Salm Salm as I
then, and frequently after, saw her, arm in arm, on
Pennsylvania Avenue, with her diminutive husband.
One night, Washington was ablaze with excite-
ment. General Corcoran had returned from a South-
ern prison, and there was to be a reception, a sere-
nade, and speeches, at Willard’s. At the appointed
time, I sauntered down to the hotel, in front of a bal-
cony, from whence the speaking was expected. I
placed my back against a vacant tree, and, thus lux-
uriously situated, I awaited the coming of events. I
had barely arranged myself when I was staggered
by a tremendous blow on my shoulder. My first
idea was that I had been struck by a falling chimney,
and then, upon looking around, I saw a quasi ac-
quaintance, an office-seeking Goliath, named Captain
Payson, withdrawing a hand, the shape and size of a
ham, from my shoulder.
It was a way Payson had of attracting one’s atten-
tion. He was a man who would awaken a sleeping
child by firing a 200-pound cannon near its ear, or
Some People I Have Met. 161
knock a man’s brains out in attempting to brush a
fly from his forehead.
“T want to introduce a friend,” said he. I glanced
up. By his side stood a gentleman of about forty-
five years of age, tall, elegantly formed, with light
hair, a complexion evidently once fresh, but now
approaching somewhat the color of sole-leather, and
seamed with a thousand infinitesimal wrinkles, as ir
they had been ploughed with the point of a cambric
needle. His eyes were a mild gray, his features reg-
ular and mobile, and his bearing erect and dignified.
‘* Gentlemen, know each other. Mr. Blank, Colonel
Charles Edward Lester,” and Payson drew out this
name till it seemed as long as an average clothes-line.
**Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold,” said the
stranger in a sonorous, musical voice, and with an
unmoved countenance; ‘‘ all the titles of good fellow
ship come to you! What, shall we.be merry? Shall
we have a drink extempore ?”
Piloted equally by the captain and the colonel, I
crossed the street, and threaded a devious route to
some secluded retreat, where prohibitory liquor law
was supposed to have no jurisdiction. We ‘smiled ”
and ‘‘smiled again,” and then commenced my ac-
quaintance with the author of the ‘‘ Glory and Shame
of England,” and who proved one of the most re-
markable, in many respects, men whom I have ever
known.
We returned to the sidewalk in front of Willard’s.
Just then, Colonel Mulligan came forward on the
balcony and began to speak.
Lester listened a few moments, and then remarked :
162 Army and Other Sketches.
‘*By heavens! There’s more electricity in that
man’s oratory than in that of any other man I ever
listened to.”
A little later, I had the pleasure of making these
two men acquainted. Mulligan was a warm admirer
of Lester’s principal work. ‘They fraternized at
once; and one of the most brilliant interchanges of
thought I ever listened to followed, but which came
to an abrupt termination, in about five minutes, by the
sudden recollection of the author that it had been as
much as ten minutes since he had taken a drink.
Mulligan would not go; Lester would. And so
they parted — mutually pleased, and mutually disap-
pointed.
Lester was, or is, the finest conversationalist whom
I have ever heard, and, if he will pardon the addi-
tional compliment, the most incorrigible bummer.
For three months, I impoverished myself in paying
for his whisky, simply to hear him talk. He was
equally firm on two points; one of these was, to
never refuse an invitation to a drink, and the other
was, never to pay for one.
The latter reason was founded upon adequate pe-
cuniary premises.
No subject was foreign to his abilities. Once Con-
sul at Genoa, and an extensive traveler, he appeared
to know all men and all places. He seemed as fa-
miliar with authors as ordinary men are with the
alphabet.
It was a custom of mine, on Sunday morning, if
the day promised to be fair, to purchase a quart of
whisky, hire a carriage, find the colonel, and drive
Some People I Have Met. 163
somewhere in the charming vicinity of Kalorama.
Some green and shady spot would be selected, the
hack turned loose, the bottle conveniently arranged,
so as to lie equally within “striking distance” ot
both, and then would begin an entertainment which
I shall never forget.
My part was little more than to listen, to some-
times suggest a topic, to oftener repress emotions
which sprang into active life under his influence.
His style varied with the subject of his conversa-
tion. Now, he was calm, equable, dignified ; again,
his words rushed forth, a torrent of fiery enthusiasm ;
or he spoke in a low voice, broken with sobs, while
his face was bathed with tears.
Where or how he lived in Washington, I never
knew or inquired. He was to be found at certain
hours about Willard’s, awaiting an invitation to
drink. He spoke often of his family with pride, and
never of his wife save with a profound respect. He
rarely mentioned the latter unless it was to couple
her with some @frofos poetical quotation, in which
the tender utterances of Milton’s Adam to Eve al-
ways bore a prominent part.
One day, I suddenly left Washington. The last I
saw of my friend, the author, the diplomat, the poet,
philosopher, statesman, gentleman, and (then) bum-
mer, he was sitting in the reading-room at Willard’s,
with an expression on his face of intellectual grand-
eur, of dignity, of benevolence, and of — unquench-
able thirst.
SOME REMEMBERED FACES.
eHaN looking backward, through an experi-
Bl ence of a quarter of a century or more, I
discover here and there faces which,
framed in diverse events, stand out with -
the distinctness of fresh and well-executed pictures.
I suppose that my experience, in this respect, is not
singular; and that others, as well as myself, can,
with a retrospective glance, discover these marked
faces, and which, in some instances, are wholly dis-
sociated from time or events.
One sees them as he might a portrait suspended in
air, or in a vacuum, and entirely bereft of surround-
ings.
At other times, these faces are inseparably inter-
woven or framed with incidents. Now, it is the
smoke of a battle; again, it appears in the green of
a prairie; in the white surroundings of a tent; in an
illuminated border of angry countenances and flash-
ing eyes. Sometimes, as I have said, the face alone
remains; and I know neither when, where, nor un- ~
der what circumstances I saw it.
Let me try to present copies of two or three of
these portraits. JI can not answer for the fidelity of
these presentations. ‘To embody and reproduce what
is but an attenuated memory, is a work which is per-
es
°
.
Some Remembered Faces. 165
plexing, unsubstantial, and, in its results, unsatisfac-
tory.
Once, during the war, I was in the wheel-house of
an iron-clad gunboat, on the Cumberland river.
About six hundred yards in front of us was a Con-
federate battery. Looking through the small orifice
in the cuirassed wheel-house, I could see only a dense
white smoke which lay in banks about the square
prow of our vessel. At short intervals, I could see
a broad flash of red flame rive its way through this
white surrounding like a vast sheet of lightning
shattering some mass of clouds.
A rumbling and massive roar accompanied these
flashes, and the clumsy iron boat shuddered under
the recoil of the guns.
Incessantly, from out the mass of vapor that envel-
oped us, there came fierce hissings which passed and
left upon the air a vibration like an echo. At times,
this hiss would suddenly terminate, and the depths
of the drifting masses, about us, for a brief instant,
would become suddenly roseate as if illuminated by
a flash of red fire.
My companion, the pilot, seemed little moved by
these surroundings. He listened to the signals from
below, and labored to hold the boat immovable
against the current. He was a tall man, with an
ordinary, pleasant face, upon which there rested only
an expression of sober earnestness.
Suddenly there was a savage hiss from out the
smoke, then the turret in which we stood seemed
shattered as by the fall upon it of a thousand tons of
rock. ‘There was an explosion that rent my ear
166 Army and Other Sketches
with deafening violence, and [ was dashed violently
backward. At the same moment, a jet of some warm
fluid struck me across the face.
Involuntarily, I turned to my companion, and then
I saw framed one of those faces which I have never
forgotten.
His hands still grasped the wheel, and he stood
bare-headed and erect. His lips were just parted, as
if he was about to speak; his heavy hair seemed
dashed away from his brow, and his gray eyes looked
straight into mine, with a sad, wondering expression.
There was in his glance something infinitely solemn,
and yet expectant, —a mingling of what seemed sur-
prise and appeal.
For three or four seconds I looked at this face,
over which there was moving something that was
like the shadow of rigidity. His lips parted more
and more, his jaw began to settle slowly down; and
then he sank like a mass of gelatine to the floor.
A splinter had torn open his breast, and he was
dead before his hands were unclasped from the wheel.
The hair thrown back, the pleading and wonder-
ing interrogation of his glance, the awful shadow of
fixedness that stole across his face, and the slow drop-
ping of his jaw, form one of the portraits which I
see and contemplate even yet with a chill of horror,
as I review these memorable faces of the past.
Shortly after the battle of Shiloh, in wandering
from point to point within the Federal lines, I found
myself belated, at dark, at the little town of Monterey,
a few miles west of Corinth. In questioning a sur-
geon as to the location of a point I wished to find,
Some Remembered Faces. 167
there resulted a quasi-acquaintance, which ended in
my being cordially invited to spend the night at his
quarters. We remained in a sort of field-dispensary
until long after taps, and then I was shown a place
to sleep, in a tent a short distance away.
The night was calm, and the regiments were bur-
ied in profound repose. Not a sound broke the still-
ness as I wrapped myself in a blanket and composed
myself to slumber. Iwas lingering in that delightful
region which divides the domain of wakefulness from
that of sleep, when there came through the still air a
voice which said: ‘Oh, Lord!” It was apparently
a thin, childish tone, weakened as if by suffering,
and yet penetrating in its clearness.
At intervals of ten minutes, perhaps, the same
voice rang out the same ‘* Oh, Lord!” upon the still-
ness. Sleep seemed to follow it away through the
darkness. Hour after hour passed, and still I lay
awake, listening to this monotonous cry. It did not
seem one of terror. It appeared rather one inspired
by loneliness, by suffering, and by the absence of
hope. It was suggestive of the tired moan of a weary
child, which wishes for, yet suffers, and is too ex-
hausted to rest.
There was a tone in it as if pleading for relief, and
which, so thin, so weak, so boyish, it suggested only
the relief to be found on the bosom of a mother.
And thus, pleading, calling, with a hint of queru-
lousness, the plaint was heard until the darkness
began to dissolve into the misty gray of dawn.
Fainter came the voice as the hours moved on,
until, at daybreak, it had passed into an incoherent
utterance, and then ceased altogether.
“a >.
a.)
x
168 Army and Other Sketches.
Soon after, I arose, passed out, and found myself
just opposite a large hospital tent, which lay in the
direction of the voice which had timed so sadly the
weary hours of the night.
Crossing over, I pushed aside the flap, and entered.
Rows of cots were upon either side, some occupied,
and some empty. In response to my inquiry, a
soldier directed me to a cot on the further side.
‘¢ FTe’s gone,” said my sententious informant.
And here, upon this cot, I found another of those
faces which I see yet with the same distinctness that
I saw it then.
A slender form was outlined from beneath the
blanket. The shoulders and head were only visible.
It was not a poetical face. The hair was unkempt,
the forehead low, and the contour of the head not
striking. But the face was small, wasted, and boy-
ish. The lids were half unclosed, and revealed blue
eyes that were fixed and staring. ‘The cheeks were
small and childish, the mouth delicate, while over
the forehead, cheeks, and chin had fastened itselt
that awful rigidity which so completely effaces the
elastic expressions of life.
The characteristic of the face that most interested
me, was its youthfulness. It was so little, so weak.
It seemed to belong to one who should have been
pillowed ina cradle, rather than to have been sent
out into the great world to grapple alone with death.
Whose child it was that thus met death face to
face, and, unassisted and unsupported, carried on the
terrible struggle, and was vanquished, I never knew.
I have only a knowledge of a pale, thin young face,
Some Remembered Faces. 169
that lay with its blue eyes staring unmeaningly into
vacancy.
Other faces present themselves to this retrospect.
There is an ineffably sad face, womanly, pale, with
dark eyes that look without seeing, masses of heavy
black hair carefully arranged, compressed lips, with
a settled expression of despair, which I have seen,
but when and where I know not. It is not the face
of a picture, but of a woman whom I have some-
where met, whose sorrow has always commanded
my profound sympathy, and whose rare, sad beauty
yet preserves for itself a warm admiration.
There are other faces, fixed and intensified as they
are when in the presence of mortal peril. Here is
one of a blue-eyed baby, and there another of a lout-
ish boy, or some laughing girl, or the corrugated
front of some paralytic octogenarian.
He who recalls these portraits, who studies their
traits, will be surprised to find how much more last-
ing are sorrowful than sunny faces. He will find
that there are a dozen faces in his mental gallery that
scowl, are suffering, are flushed with painful emo-
tions, are staring in death, that sadden, where there
is one that smiles, and to recall which, and examine,
is a task of pleasure.
A REMINISCENCE OF THE WAR.
a==— 111. incident I am about to relate is one
which, during the sublime convulsions
of a great war, would escape notice. — It
is a little occurrence ; and yet it contains
volumes of meaning with reference to one of the
most gallant men who, during the late war, drew
his sword in the cause of the government. ;
It was in the month of April, 1863, that I was
connected with a metropolitan newspaper as its
western correspondent. At the precise time of
which I am about to write, Grant had run the Vicks-
burg batteries, and had crossed a portion of his army
just below Grand Gulf. The advance, under
Osterhaus, had repulsed the confederates in front of —
Port Gibson, and had reached Black river on ‘its
northward march. Here the advance had ‘been
joined by General Grant; and a halt of two or three
days was determined upon, in order to allow a con-
centration of the Federal forces, who reached all the
way from Richmond, nearly opposite Vicksburg,
around by Perkins’ plantation, Grand Gulf, Bruins-
burg and Port Gibson, to Grant’s headquarters at
Black river. When these forces were concentrated,
it was intended to resume the march around Vicks-
burg vza Jackson, the capital of Mississippi.
\ i\
WANN | HIN
THE ARMY CORRESPONDENT.
A Reminiscence of the War. 17%
I accompanied the advance, and reached Black
river at the same time as did the commander-in-chief.
Upon arrival there, I found myself wofully in need
of a change of clothing. My baggage was all upon
the boat at the Federal landing opposite Vicksburg.
When the expedition had started to move below
Vicksburg, there was a universal disbelief in its
success. I shared this opinion; and, anticipating a
defeat, and possibly the necessity of a hasty retreat,
I had moved in light marching order; that is, I
limited myself to the single suit of clothes which I
wore, and the necessary paraphernalia of a Bohem-
-.n. The march to Black river occupied some time ;
the route was dirty ; it had rained frequently ; and,
there being but few tents with the advance, — the
baggage being left at the river,—I found myself
looking more like a chimney-sweep than a respect-
able journalist. Having learned that the army
would remain certainly as many as three days at its
position on Black river, I determined to return to
the landing opposite Vicksburg, and rehabilitate
myself in a shape conducive, at least, to cleanliness.
These particulars are unimportant, save as they
may serve to recall the federal movements, and like-
wise as they may indirectly bear upon the position
in which I soon after found myself.
To reach the Vicksburg landing, I had a ride of
forty miles to Grand Gulf; then a trip by steamer to
the other side of the Mississippi, at Perkins’ planta-
tion; and then a ride of thirty miles more to the
landing. I calculated that the trip would occupy a
day and a half each way; and I should, therefore,
172 Army and Other Sketches.
be able to return to headquarters on Black river
within three days, or before the Federal army re-com-
menced its advance.
The weather had been rainy; after which there
followed a close, oppressive heat. I made the forty
miles a little after noon of the morning of my de-
parture ; caught the tug at Grand Gulf; and, leaving
the landing at the other side long before daylight the
next day, I reached the Federal boats opposite Vicks-
burg about ten o’clock in the morning. I made the
necessary changes; and, mounted upon a fresh
horse, which was supplied me by a friendly quar-
termaster, I commenced my return soon after noon.
The roads were in excellent order, my beast a supe-
rior animal, and I had no fears as to my ability to
regain Perkins’ plantation in time to catch the down-
boat in the evening.
As I have said, the weather was oppressively
warm. ‘There was not a breath of air stirring, and
every thing seemed weighed down by the heat, as if
it were possessed of enormous gravity. My ride of
the day before, and of the morning of my return,
was, considering the heat, of extraordinary length.
I was somewhat fatigued when I started back;
and this feeling soon after was succeeded by one of a
serious and most unpleasant nature. I found that,
upon the slightest turning of my head from one side
to the other, I would lose the power to balance my-
self, and could only prevent myself from falling from
my horse by instinctively grasping the pommel of
the saddle.
I had passed through Richmond when these symp-
A Reminiscence of the War. 173
toms attacked me, and I was too far on my journey
to think of returning to the Vicksburg landing. An
oppressive premonition seized me, and I feared that,
in a little while, I would become totally blind and
helpless.
The route over which I moved was that which
had been taken by the Federal forces; but it was
entirely deserted. The rear of our army had passed ;
and the few houses which presented themselves at
long intervals were as silent as graves. The cotton-
gins were heaps of smouldering ruins ; and the negro
cabins and the plantation houses stood with opened
doors and shattered windows. ‘There was no where
a sign of life, save here and there a broken-down
mule, and an alligator sunning itself upon some log
in the bayou. The paunches and horned-skulls of
beeves, the skins and entrails of swine, broken
cracker-boxes, dead camp-fires, innumerable foot-
paths, and deep ruts cut by the loaded wagons,
marked the route of the passing army. But all life
had disappeared with it. There was not even the
defiant bark of the usually omnipresent dogs of the
negroes. No cattle lowed from the ricks ; no horses
or mules cropped the springing grass. Every where
were only desolation, solitude, destruction. Dead
mules, bloated enormously, and with legs thrust out
rigidly in the air, appeared at intervals. Intolerable
stenches from decaying animal matter poisoned the
air, and loaded each breath with a deadly nausea,
There was nothing beautiful, save the clear sunlight,
and the long hedges decorated with an infinite vari-
ety of gorgeous flowers.
174 Army and Other Sketches.
As may easily be understood, the absence of all
life, the constant presence of death, the decay, the
ruin and desolation, the sickening odors, all con-
spired to add strength to the illness which possessed
me. The death about me constantly suggested death ;
and the odors of rottenness the decay which seemed
destined to make me its prey. I grew worse each
instant. The air seemed to come from a blast fur-
nace, —a combination of parching heat and nause-
ating stench. My tendency to fall from my horse
became each moment greater, and my eyes were
filled with millions of black, elongated specks, which
impeded my vision, and which, increasing constantly
in size, promised soon to become an unbroken veil
of darkness. I felt that I was rapidly becoming
blind; and my mind, fast losing coherence, reasoned
scarcely at all, but, instead, became the abode of
numberless dire apprehensions. I had, however,
sense enough to know that my safety, if existing any
where, lay in advance. I therefore clung tenaciously
to the mane of my horse, and spurred desperately
forward. Racking pains ran along my spine, and
an immense weight seemed to lie upon my brain.
It was some hours after I left Richmond; and the
bayou, whose course I was following, and its levees,
seemed interminable. I was fast verging upon a
state of complete unconsciousness, when I saw dimly
a house, at whose front was a score of horses. A
few orderlies in blue moved among them, and some
cavalrymen were warming coffee over a fire kindled
among the shrubbery. On the long piazza, which
ran around the house, was seated a group of Federal
A Reminiscence of the War. 175
officers. My horse, of its own accord, turned in
through a gap in the hedge, and, coming up to the
portico, stopped. My head swam for an instant, as
if whirled by machinery, and then I fell forward
insensible.
My next recollection is, that I was seated on my
horse and moving forward. Upon each side of me
rode an orderly, by whom I was sustained in my
saddle. From behind came the clanking of sabres,
as if from an escort. In front of me rode three or
four officers, one of whom I recognized, by his star,
to be a general. I noticed that he was slightly built,
with light hair, and a smooth, boyish face. I had
an opportunity to observe these particulars, for the
reason that, at short intervals, he turned towards me
with a compassionate air, as if to satisfy himself of
my condition. Once or twice he addressed me; but
I was so dizzy, confused and pained that I evidently
could not answer him satisfactorily.
For what seemed an age, this slow journey con-
tinued. After a while we crossed the bayou to our
left, and, after a long time spent in floundering
through some low grounds across which the road
led, we came into a clearing, and just before us ran
the broad, sluggish Mississippi. I had a dim con-
sciousness, from the charred ruins of what had once
been a house, and from other features, that we were
at Perkins’ plantation.
Some blankets were spread under a tree, and I was
assisted from my horse and laid upon them. The
officer with the star on his shoulder seated himself
in a camp chair close by me, and found time, when
176 Army and Other Sketches.
not giving directions about encamping, to inquire as
to my condition, my name and destination. The
first of these required no answer. As to the others,
I could tell nothing, except to give utterance to inco-
herent mutterings. My thoughts possessed some lit-
tle clearness, but my tongue refused to interpret them.
Soon after, a small, white tent was raised near me.
I was offered some coffee ; but the mere odor nause-
ated me, and it was taken away; and then I was
supported into the tent. In one end was a cot, upon
which were blankets, and clean, white sheets. I was
assisted to undress, and placed in the bed; and, ina
little while, between slumber and illness, I sank into
unconsciousness.
The quiet, the rest, with perhaps the fact that my
attack had culminated and spent its force, restored
me. I awoke at dawn without a particle of the feel-
ing which possessed me the day before. It required
some time to recall my wandering thoughts so as to
take in the seemingly interminable events of the pre-
vious day, and to explain the unwonted comforts of
my position and surroundings. Slowly I gathered
up the raveled, broken, knotted threads of remem-
-brance; and then, hastily dressing, I went into the
open air.
There was just sufficient light to render objects
indistinctly visible. All over the clearing were camp-
fires, some of which yet flickered feebly, while others
were smouldering beds of white ashes. All around
these fires lay soldiers in their blankets, and near
them were long lines of stacked muskets. Close by
the tent was a score or more of horses, some lying
é
A Reminiscence of the War. E77
down, and some standing with drooping heads, as if
asleep. Near them lay saddles and blankets, and
among them, here and there, were sabres whose steel
scabbards reflected a gleam from some adjacent
camp-fire. Directly in front of the tent, and beneath
a group of trees, slumbered four or five men, whose
uniforms, revealed from beneath their blankets,
showed them to be officers. With his head pillowed
upon his saddle, I recognized the tender, compas-
sionate, boyish face of my conductor of the day be-
fore. His countenance lay upturned, and, while its
predominant expression was that of serenity, there yet
seemed to rest upon it a shadow, as if of a coming
fate.
I have but little more to relate. A half an hour
after, a bugle near the tent sounded revezd/é, and the
sleeping hosts awoke to life and activity. Soon after,
and not till then, did I know to whom I was indebted
for what I must always believe to be a care which
preserved my life, or he know who was the suffering
civilian whom he had found alone, friendless, and
almost dying. The former was General T. E. G.
Ransom. He had cared for me without knowing
any thing save that I was suffering and needed as-
sistance. He had delayed his: march to accommo-
date my weakness; and he had given up his own
bed, and slept on the ground, without shelter, that
he might minister to the comfort of an unknown
sufferer.
I never met that boyish face and slight form again
in life. Once after, I joined a cortege which moved
to a cemetery of the Garden City; and the wailing
8*
178 Army and Other Sketches.
dirges of the band were but a faint reflex of the. sor- ‘
row that filled my soul at the thought that the most
gallant, tender, chivalrous soul of the age had taken —
forever its leave of earth. é
A. DESPERADO WHO WOULD NOT
STAY KILLED.
pees ete N the early part of 1862, there was a jolly
= ie and eager crowd gathered in room 45;
F 4) St. Charles Hotel, Cairo, Illinois. All,
or nearly all, of them were Bohemians,
who represented the majority of the newspapers
of prominence in the North. There were the
sedate and puritanical-looking Richardson, of the
New York Tribune; the foppish exquisite, Carroll,
of the Louzsville Fournal; the grave-visaged Matte-
son, of the Chicago Post; the precise and somewhat
elegant Whitlaw Reid, of the Czzcznnati Gazette ;
the acidulated and under-sized ‘**‘ Mack,” of the Czz-
cinnatt Commercial; the bluff and rotund Bodman,
of the Chicago Tribune; the saintly-looking Na-
than Shepherd, of the Wew York World; the
jaundiced, but gentlemanly, Coffin, of the Lostox
Fournal; the tall and slender Lovie, of Lraxk Les-
lie; Meissner, of the Chicago .Times; ‘“* Galway,”
of the Mew York Times; Simplot, of Harpers;
and some others, whose names do not occur to me.
Whenever a newspaper man registered at the St.
Charles, he was assigned to 45, regardless of the
number already there. As there were but two beds
180 Army and Other Sketches.
in the room; and as the beds, by the utmost stretch,
would never accommodate more than three respect-
ively; and as there were always from ten to twenty
in the room,—it ever happened that there was a
margin of Bohemians who slept on the tables, or
sought the comforts of such slumber as could be
wooed from a bed of flooring and a pillow construct-
ed of a carpet-bag, or the hollow of a saddle. But
it was all right. He who slept on the floor the last
night would retire early the next night, taking the
middle of whichever bed was vacant; for among the
rules of the fraternity was one that all things except
tooth-brushes were in common, and he who first
gained possession of any thing held it, for the time,
by an inalienable right.
I recall these things, not because they are precisely
pertinent to what I am about to relate, but because
one who dates any occurrence from room 45 can not
resist going over the whole ground. All about the
room has a more or less intimate relation with the
history of the rebellion, and is full of personal inter-
est, whether one recalls the immaculate Reid, dilat-
ing upon his intimacy with the family of one who
has since risen to the highest judicial honors in the
gift of the Republic ; or Richardson, gravely expound-
ing Buckle’s History of Civilization; or Meissner,
going to bed at midday with his boots on; or Car-
roll, arraying himself, at two o’clock in the morning,
in faultless linen, and stimulating himself with a cup”
of hot tea, in order to write a letter; or little “* Mack,”
swearing like a seven-foot pirate.
There was another character there, —a_ slender,
A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 181
wiry, handsome, fresh-cheeked young man, known
as Carson. He was from Chicago, was a scout in
the service of Grant, and a correspondent of a news-
paper. He was one of the finest-looking and bravest
young fellows that I ever knew.
When news was scarce, the Bohemians would
sometimes accompany Carson on his scouting expe-
ditions. At first, he had no trouble about volunteers ;
but, later, there grew apace an unwillingness to
scout with the young dare-devil, as it was found that
scouting, under his lead, meant hard riding, hard
knocks, and no account of odds in numbers. Hence,
the eagerness to escape the tedium of no war news,
finally resulted in recreations at billiards, economical
draw-poker, and universal growling.
One afternoon Carson burst into the room with a
haste that promised something of unusual importance.
** Now, boys,” said he, in a cheery voice, ‘‘ who’s
in for a little fun?”
* Fun, h—1I1!” growled the little gentleman from
Cincinnati, as he rubbed carefully that portion of the
human frame which usually comes in contact with
the saddle. ‘I’ve had enough of your d—d fun to
last me till after Lent!”
Carson proceeded to buckle on his sabre, to sling
a carbine over his shoulder, and to examine the caps
of his navy-revolver. ‘Come, boys, it’s only a little
sccut over into Missouri,—a short ride, not much
danger, and plenty of fun. Come, now, who’ll go?”
** Not any for me!” .
‘I’ve had a piece of that!”
Pl see you about it in the fall !”
182 Army and Other Sketches.
‘** Go to thunder with your plenty of fun !”
“One charge of buckshot in my blanket now
Such were the remarks that greeted Carson’s invi-
tation, with a score of others that I have forgotten.
The only one who said nothing was myself. I had
but lately reached Cairo, and, having never been out
with him, I had a strong desire to go. Accordingly,
I announced my intention. It was greeted with a
1?
roar of laughter and ironical sympathy and congrat-
ulation.
‘* Bully youth !”
‘* Good-bye, old fellow! Where do you want your
remains sent?”
“Don’t get ahead of Carson in a charge, will
you?”
And so on. Nevertheless, I persisted in my de-
termination, and, an hour later, we had been ferried
over to Bird’s Point, had passed through Dick
Oglesby’s command, and were hurrying on our way,
at a gallop, through the mud and water of an ex-
ecrable road that led through the timber across
the Mississippi “bottom.” Besides Carson and
myself, there were two soldiers. All of us were
well mounted, and, save myself, all were armed
with sabre, revolver, and carbine. ‘The mud soon
grew so deep that a gallop became impossible.
We therefore fell into a walk, and it was now,
for the first time, that I was put in possession of
the object of the expedition. I will give the sub-
stance of what Carson told me, using my own, in-
stead of his vigorous language.
The vast, swampy region opposite Cairo, in Mis-
A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 183
souri, was occupied by Jeff. Thompson. He was
no where when sought for, and every where when
not wanted. He committed no great amount of
damage, save that he kept Cairo, the base of our
future operations down the Mississippi and up the
Cumberland and Tennessee rivers, infested with
spies, who accurately informed the rebel com-
manders at Columbus, and in eastern Kentucky,
of Grant’s probable intentions.
On that morning, a noted bushwhacker, whose
person and habits were well known in Cairo, had
been seen near Grant’s headquarters. A search had
been made for him, but he had suddenly disappeared.
Some information of his haunts had been communi-
cated to Grant, and Carson had been started across
the river, with the hope that he might be intercepted
at a certain point, a settlement some twelve miles
from Bird’s Point.
As I was further informed, this man was a noted
desperado, and was the hero of a hundred personal
fights, in which he was generally the victor. He
had killed a_ half-dozen men outright, and had
maimed and mortally injured many others, until he
had become the terror of the region which he inhab-
ited. Several attempts had been made to kill him,
but, in nearly every case, with a disastrous result to
those attempting it. He seemed to bear a charmed
life. He had been ‘ cut to pieces” in a half-dozen
fights, and yet, in a week or two, he was around
again, as well, as quarrelsome, and as dangerous as
ever. )
It was related that a man whom he had a quarrel
184 Army and Other Sketches.
with, had waylaid him one night, and had dis-
charged a heavy load of buckshot into him. The
assassin fled as he saw his opponent fall heavily from
his horse. His horror may be imagined when, the
next time he ventured into town, and into the vil-
lage grocery, he found his enemy at the bar, and
taking a drink with the gusto of a man uninjured by
buckshot, or bullets. At another time, he was found
dead drunk upon an immense hollow log, a short
distance into the country. The opportunity was too
good to be lost, and so a fire was kindled in the log,
just beneath him, and he was left to his fate. He
lay there and broiled until, as was asserted, one
whole side of him ‘“‘ was burnt to a cinder ;” and -
yet, a few weeks afterward, he was around, appa-
rently as hearty as ever.
These and a dozen of similar incidents were rela-
ted by Carson, and the effect was very far from
making me pleased with the prospect. Neverthe-
less, it was too late to retreat, and I kept on, hoping
the best, yet fearing the worst.
The settlement which we were approaching,
was the one in which resided this desperado. It
was supposed that he had gone home to spend the
night, and that we should find him there at any time
before daylight of the next morning, when he would
probably leave for the headquarters of Thompson.
By Carson’s orders, we made a wide detour, and
thereby avoided the little town where our prey was
waiting. Carson was thoroughly acquainted with
the country; and so well did he conduct us that,
without meeting a human being, or passing a house,
A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 185
we reached, about nine o’clock, a road that led into
the town, and which road was exactly opposite the
one by which we had left Bird’s Point. In other
words, the town was between us and Cairo, and we
were upon the road that led from the town to the
point supposed to be occupied by Jeff. Thompson.
Our man would approach along this road, and hence
we were sure of meeting him, if the supposition
were correct that he would spend the night with his
family.
We moved up to within a mile of the settlement,
and then halted at a deserted log-house. ‘The horses
were hitched behind the building, without having
their bridles or saddles taken off; and every dispo-
sition was made for instant movement. We took
turns in watching the road, while the ones not on
duty wrapped themselves in blankets and slept.
Daylight came without there having occurred any
thing of note. We waited until sunrise, and then
mounted and moved toward the town. Carson
swore savagely under the impression that our man
had taken some other route.
The road led up a gentle ascent to a broad table-
land, upon which the little settlement was located.
We proceeded at a walk until we reached the brow
of the ascent, and the place became visible.
It was a collection of a dozen or so rough houses,
built around a square. Three horses were hitched
in front of a smali building. The moment Carson
caught sight of the animals, he exclaimed:
‘¢ There’s his horse, by G—!”
At the same instant, he drove his spurs into his
186 Army and Other Sketches.
beast, and shot forward like an arrow. Just then,
three men issued from the building, and, attracted
by the clatter of hoofs, they turned toward us, and
then, with incredible quickness, they threw the reins
over their horses’ necks, and leaped into the saddles.
One of them swerved to the left, another to the right,
and the third went like the wind on the road to
Cairo.
Carson seemed to see only this man, and followed
directly after him. I followed Carson.
I happened to be well-mounted, and had no diffi-
culty in keeping within sight of the chase. ‘The an-
imal ridden by the man whom we were pursuing
was a splendid beast; but its muddy appearance
and rough coat indicated a long journey. However,
both Carson and myself gained on the rider, slowly,
but perceptibly.
The road ran across the table-land, and then de-
scended gently for a long distance, till it reached the
muddy ‘* bottom.”
We had not descended more than half the road to
the bottom, when Carson had gained upon the pur-
sued until he was within thirty paces. At this in-
stant, he called in a resolute voice:
=i ita -
For a reply, the man wheeled in his saddle, and
fired a shot froma revolver. I heard the whiz of
the bullet as it went over my head. ‘
The next moment, I saw a puff of smoke from Car-
son’s pistol. There was a sharp report, and, at the
same instant, I saw the butternut coat of the pursued
give a sudden flap in the centre of his back, accom-
panied by the rise of a little cloud of dust.
:
A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 187
But the bushwhacker rode on. Carson was clos-
ing with him rapidly, and I was some ten or fifteen
paces in the rear of the latter.
I saw Carson return his revolver to his belt, and
draw his sabre. His horse’s head now lapped the
flanks of the other. He brought his sabre to a
charge.
* Halt! will you?” he thundered.
The man rode on. In an instant Carson drove his
sabre forward. It entered somewhere near the right
shoulder-blade, and passed completely through the
body. The next moment, the man reeled wildly,
and then, with a vain effort to grasp the mane of his
horse, he tumbled heavily to the ground.
A minute later, we had checked our horses, and
had reined up beside the fallen man. He lay on his
face; blood reddened his lips; his eyes rolled fear-
fully; and he gasped as if throttled by a strong
hand.
“It’s all up with him this time,” said Carson, as
he dismounted. ‘* However, Ill make sure, and put
him out of his misery.”
He pulled out his revolver,
and, holding it a couple of inches away from, and
directly over, the prostrate man’s heart, he fired.
There was a quick convulsion of the frame, and the
bearded, fierce-looking spy, with his long, unkempt
hair, lay motionless.
Carson searched the body, and found a paper con-
cealed in the lining of his slouch-hat. Upon it was
some highly important information concerning our
forces, and contemplated movements.
Leaving the still rebel where he had fallen, we
188 Army and Other Sketches.
continued our route to Cairo, knowing that the body
would be attended to by friends who would follow
to learn the result of the pursuit.
= “ # * # *
About five weeks later, I was at the landing
when the ferry-boat came over from Bird’s Point.
Some butternut suits attracted my attention, and,
upon looking closer, I saw a squad of a half-dozen
bushwhackers, who were marched ashore, under
guard of some Federal soldiers. I looked curiously
at them as they passed. One of them was a burly,
uncouth-looking rufhan. His face was deadly pale,
and his eyes bloodshot; but, despite this, I recog-
nized, in an instant, in the peculiar countenance, the
bushy beard, and long hair, the desperado whom
Carson had sabred, and twice shot through the body.
He appeared but little the worse for his treatment ;
and, so far as I know, he is yet alive, and as imper-
vious as ever to steel, fire, or revolver.
I have only to add that this account is substan-
tially a true one, as may be proved by scores who
were in Cairo in 1862. |
oar <=
see TIE RE were a good many very respecta-
ble men who took a deep interest in the
late war. Among them were some — in
ssa! fact, no small number — who demonstra-
ted their interest not by shouldering a musket, or
buckling on a sabre, but by gathering up such arti-
cles of value as were scattered in the crash of things,
and the universal spilling, overflowing, and confu-
sion that prevailed wherever there were any opera-
tions.
Among these there was a class who may be termed
gleaners. They followed in the track of the oppos-
ing forces, and carefully raked up any little thing
which might prove to be of value. Those gentle-
men who charged themselves with the pleasing task
of gathering up abandoned plantations, were among
those gleaners. Some of them got rich by it. A
good many of them did not.
Messrs. John Marsh, and George McLeland re-
solved some time during the closing years of the
war, to go into the gleaning business. Both were
and are Illinoisans. The former is fat and a little
lame. ‘The other is immensely thin and a good deal
deaf. Both were rich, but both wanted more.
190 Army and Other Sketches.
Thereupon each of them had their respective checks
cashed for a few thousand dollars. Putting a clean
shirt apiece in their carpet-sacks, they bade adieu to
their weeping families, and embarked on a steamer,
at Rock Island, and started southward. ~
Of the tremendous perils which these two glean-
ers experienced in getting to Helena, it would be
harrowing to speak in detail. The number of times
they weren’t shot at by prowling bushwhackers, se-
creted behind wood-piles, on the levees, was beyond
computation. Probably several hundred would be a
very low estimate.
Both laid low, and were prepared for vigorous
dodging in case of an attack. McLeland usually
occupied a horizontal position, with his head point-
ing to one shore, and his feet to the other, under the
belief that he thus presented the smallest possible
mark for a rebel rifleman. Mr. John Marsh, who
was about as. thick when lying as when standing,
was unpleasantly situated. He proposed to his com-
panions that he (Marsh) ought to have two-thirds of
the profits, as he, owing to his size, ran two-thirds of
the danger.
To which McLeland, being stingy as well as thin,
declined to accede. And thereupon arose a slight
coolness between the whilom friends.
Beautiful Helena was at length reached, and soon
after, a corpulent traveler, with a carpet-sack and a
slight limp, and an enormously tall man with a car-
pet-sack and a sole-leather countenance, might have
been seen ascending the romantic levee in search of
quarters.
Among the Guerrillas. I9I
A week later, the same two individuals were in-
stalled as lessees of a thriving, productive, and ad-
mirably situated plantation.
And now began the business. Contrabands by the
score were obtained from the depot, in the propor-
tion of three obese negresses, eleven children, clad
at the rate of one shirt to the dozen, five dogs, and
one lame mule, to each able-bodied negro. Thus,
the getting together of say twenty able-bodied Afri-
cans involved the assembling of almost a thousand
other things, including old negroes and pickaninies,
feather-beds, and dodger kettles, and other traps and
paraphernalia without limit, and sufficient to start a
good-sized city.
Messrs. Marsh and McLeland being philanthropic,
were kindly disposed to all these arrivals. They
opened primary schools, in which the young niggers
were taught to not chew tobacco, and encouraged to
stand on their heads, or to execute a break-down.
All the old aunties of the settlement came in for
much good instruction from these kindly old men.
They were put under a gentle course of instruction,
whose main feature was their duty to get back to
Helena by the first conveyance, in order not to pro-
duce a scarcity in the provender of bacon and meal
laid in by Messrs. Marsh and McLeland. With the
delightful tractability of the docile African, the good
old aunties heard and concluded to— stay, which
they did.
And thus things went on under the new rule. The
crop was put in. Save an occasional accident, in
which the bulky Marsh sat down on a young darkey,
192 Army and Other Sketches.
to the great discomfort of the latter, or the lengthy
McLeland broke his head in trying to get into a
negro shanty, the world went well with them. The
cotton came in green beauty, and already had the
gleaners figured up the number of bales, the profits
thereon, and the pecuniary results, which were divi-
ded in imagination,
But a crisis was approaching these two good men
with the swift noiselessness of a prowling tiger.
Their plantations were outside the lines. With
infinite difficulty had each of them broken himself to
riding a mule. McLeland had the best luck in the
operation. His length of legs enabled him to stand
over a mule as the Colossus of Rhodes bestrode the
passing ships. When he wished to ride he widened
his lower extremities, and the mule was backed un-
der by a nigger; then he lowered himself a trifle,
drew up his knees to his chin, and was mounted.
When the mule was refractory and began to plunge,
then the rider simply lowered his feet till they
touched the ground. And then the mule walked
off. |
Mr. John Marsh had more difficulty. No small
mule could carry him, and no large mule would
carry him. Thereupon he was reduced to an ancient
animal which was too stiff to rear, and too old to
kick. Him he mounted, after many attempts. In
time, by holding tight to the mane, he could retain
his position. Experience made him bold, and he
finally became a most daring rider. If the mule did
not lower his head and stop suddenly, he would ride
from Helena to the plantation without once falling off.
Among the Guerrillas. 193
One gentle afternoon the two companions mount-
ed their prancing steeds and started for the planta-
tion. ‘hey passed the pickets at a tremendous rate,
and entered the open country.
Each had in his belt some thousands of dollars in
greenbacks.
They were armed to the teeth. McLeland had a
formidable jack-knife, while about the waist of Marsh
was buckled a revolver, three inches in length, and
which had been loaded only some two years. pre-
vious. Thus armed, what cared they for the fact
that a force of guerrillas had been seen, the day be-
fore, but a few miles away? Marsh wouldn’t have
given a cent over a thousand dollars to have been
safe in his Illinois home. McLeland wouldn’t have
raised the amount over 100 per cent. to have been in
the same place. |
And thus darkly musing, they rode valorously on,
keeping a vigilant out-look over their shoulders.
And now the crisis was upon them.
It took the shape of a squad of butternuts who
suddenly reined up before them and menaced them
with huge horse-pistols and colossal shot-guns.
McLeland saw them, lowered his feet to the
ground, backed from off his mule, and prepared for
instantaneous fight. Marsh tried to get off his mule
in order to flee into Hepsidam, or any where else,
but there being no nigger handy, he was unable to
dismount without assistance. A butternut planted
himself before McLeland, and cut off his retreat.
They were penned! | :
Zi
194 Army and Other Sketches.
‘* Fland over!” came in stern accents from the ruf-
fianly leader.
After much searching in various pockets, Marsh
found a.plug of tobacco, which he sorrowfully passed
to the brigand. ‘Then he sought long and earnestly,
and fished out a pocket-comb. ‘ Take it,” said he,
in a sad tone, ‘*’tis all I have. I am now a broken,
ruined old man!”
*“ You be d—d!” roared the ruffian. ‘Come,
out with yer stamps !”
Again did the sorrowing Marsh investigate his
clothes. Infinite search produced a shirt-button, a
dirty collar, and a hymn-book. ‘ There, unfeeling
wretch, is me all! ‘Take them, and let me go away
and die !”
‘‘ Look here, old hoss, if you don’t shell out some
9?
greenbacks, Pll
Just then there was heard the clank of sabres and
the clatter of horses’ feet.
‘Yanks, by G—! Skedaddle, boys;” and so
saying the butternuts drove the spurs into their horses,
and, in a twinkling, had disappeared in the timber.
‘‘ What’s the matter?” inquired McLeland, whose
deaf ears had not taken in a word of the conversa-
tion.
‘‘ Robbers,” was the reply roared into his organ of
hearing.
‘Robbers! Oh Lord! Robbers!” and just then
he caught sight of an approaching dust, in which
could be seen the outlines of horses and riders.
‘“‘ Robbers,” he roared; ‘there they come again!
Oh dear!” He looked wildly about for a refuge. A
Among the Guerrillas. 195
little way off he saw a shanty about which were
grouped some Africans. Hope awoke in his breast.
Fiercely he tugged at his clothing. He tore open
his vest, he unbuckled his money belt, he flew to
the negroes, and throwing them the belt, he said:
‘¢ Men and brethren, keep this for me till the rob-
bers pass.” ‘They seized upon it and said, ‘‘ Thanks,
masser.”
And then he strode back, and awaited with calm
resignation the approach of the robbers. They came
up.
They were a company of Federal scouts in search
of guerrillas. Their leader was the friend of Mr.
Marsh and Mr. McLeland. They were rejoiced to
see him. ‘They told him their heart-rending adven-
ture.
And then the Federals pushed on the trail of the
guerrillas. And then Mr. McLeland went and
claimed his money-belt from the faithful Africans.
The faithful Africans were not where he left them.
Nor at any other place which he has been able to
discover from that day to the present time.
A broken-hearted old man, named McLeland, or
something like it, now passes a sad existence at the
lovely village of Geneseo, in this State.
He has a mournful experience to relate of cotton
worms, of failure in cotton planting, and of the loss
of $10,000 which he had in a money-belt.
Mr. John Marsh has country quarters at Elgin.
He is still portly, a little lame, and given to relating
the miraculous adventures which he once passed
through in cotton planting below Helena.
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF ALLA-
TOONA. |
mili battle of Allatoona has never been
written up as it deserves. The few histo-
rians who have arisen since the close of
the war have dished it in a paragraph, in
which were contained a few statistics as to forces,
the Iength and result of the battle, and a compliment
to the endurance and pluck of the Federal com-
mander. And yet, this battle of Allatoona, consid-
ered with reference to the numbers engaged, its
duration, and the interest involved, was one of the
most — if not ¢2e most — desperate, bloody, and gal-
lant conflicts of the whole war.
It is not my intention to write an extended account
of the battle; it is merely proposed, in the present
article, to embody a few salient recollections of some
of the men and the incidents of that terrific fight.
The soul, the inspiration, of Allatoona was Gen-
eral Corse. On that occasion, he shot upward to an
altitude which, for many generations, will permit his
being a conspicuous figure among the heroes of the
war. f
When I first became acquainted with Corse, there
was little or nothing in his appearance, position, or
surroundings, to indicate that he would attain distine-
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 197
tion. He was a major of the 6th Iowa, of which
regiment John A. McDowell, brother of General
McDowell, was colonel. The regiment was some
where in central Missouri, engaged in guarding some
insignificant bridge. There was no glory in present
duties, and no brighter outlook in the direction of
the future.
Corse struck me then as being dissatisfied. Lately
defeated as the candidate for a prominent political
position in Iowa, he had gone into the field to relieve
the pain of defeat. And now, guarding a railway
bridge, and subject to the dilatory policy and inefli-
ciency of Fremont, there seemed little prospect of
bettering his fortunes.
Chafing, and discontented, he was driven back
upon himself. ‘The result was a species of religious
outbreak. Corse, McDowell, and other officers,
formed themselves into a sort of Calvinistic organi-
zation. ‘Lhe chaplain prayed night and morning.
McDowell prayed at the table. If Corse did not
pray in public, he possibly did in secret,
I remained with the regiment a while, but, finally,
tired of its forced inaction, and not suited with the
austerity that took possession of every face, and in-
disposed to listen to McDowell’s homilies on tem-
perance and morality, I left.
The next time I saw Corse was a week or two
later, at Jefferson City. A steady diet of prayer,
preaching, and Puritanical observances had been too
much for him. He was going home on sick leave.
I accompanied him to St. Louis, and thence up the
railway that led to Burlington. His trouble seemed
198 Army and Other Sketches.
as much mental as physical. He suffered intense
pain, and was so worn and racked that, when I
parted with him at Galesburg, I thought it scarcely
probable that he would live to reach home.
And yet the slight figure possessed more vitality
than I supposed. When I next saw him, it was in
April of the following year, 1862. He had then
been assigned to staff duty, and was inspector gen-
eral, I believe, with Pope, a little above Pittsburg
Landing. He had lost his austerity, was bright,
active, and elastic. He had secured something to
do, and his vast ambition was gratified with the
prospect of a promotion. |
From this period until the taking of Vicksburg, I
saw him at intervals. He became attached to Sher-
man, and being intrusted with some independent
military operations connected with the disposition of
Johnston, in the rear of Vicksburg, he so acquitted
himself that Sherman recommended him for promo-
tion, and he was made a brigadier-general.
When Hood marched around Sherman’s flank, at
Atlanta, he meant mischief. He threw himself at
once upon the latter’s communications, and cut the
railroad between Kenesaw and Allatoona. At the
latter place were a million rations. To have de-
stroyed these would have annihilated Sherman.
From station to station, was signaled the news ot
Hood’s movement, and Corse, who was at Rome,
was ordered to Allatoona with all his disposable
force. Cars were broken and unavailable, so that
he was able to embark but 700 men. With these,
and a plentiful supply of ammunition, he threw him-
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 199
self into Allatoona. And then the Confederate forces
closed in upon him from every side. With less than
1,500 men, he occupied an insecure position, at-
tacked by ten times his own number, and knowing
that upon his efforts depended the safety of Sher-
man’s whole army, and the entire value of the cam-
paign from Chattanooga to Atlanta.
Every thing conspired to his isolation. The ab-
sence of cars from Rome prevented his bringing up
only a portion of his division. After his arrival he
attempted to signal to Sherman, who was on Kene-
saw, twenty miles distant, his strength. He ordered
the message: ‘ Corse is here, with a portion of his
brigade, and must have reinforcements,” to be sent.
The flagman had gotten as far as: ‘‘ Corse is here
with —,” when a rebel shell cut his flagstaff in
pieces, and then he ingloriously fled. Sherman in-
terpreted this as meaning, ‘‘ Corse is here with his
division.” ‘Therefore, he regarded the situation of
Allatoona as comparatively safe, although he pushed
forward Cox to menace Hood, and to assist in the
defence.
It was at one o’clock in the morning that the Con-
federates commenced their attack. There was a ces-
sation a little after daylight, for the sending in of a
demand for a surrender, whose tenor and whose gal-
lant reply have become historical. And then the
battle was renewed. Allatoona was a small island,
against which dashed overwhelming and angry tides.
In a little time, the heavy, surging columns of grey,
had gradually driven in the advanced and slender
forces of Corse, until there remained to him only a
200 Army and Other Sketches.
small work, near the summit, which commanded the
supplies, and against which the maddened enemy
now bent all his energies to capture.
The little earth-work, with its outlying ditch, be-
came a red-hot volcano, and a slaughter-pen. It
commanded the approaches of an assaulting party,
and it was commanded by Confederate artillery. It
was red with the flashes of its guns, and the blood
of its defenders. It rained death like some vast and
infernal engine; and it was a huge furnace which
roasted to cinders its contents. It was deadly alike
to friend and enemy.
Extending southwest of this fort was a ridge, from
which projected numerous wooded spurs. Forming
behind these spurs, the columns of the Confederate
Young would deploy on the ridge, and hurl them-
selves against the defences. It was the most acces-
sible, and yet the most defensible, position.
On the north and east sides of the fort the precip-
itous, broken country rendered an assault in great
force impossible. Hence, the key of the position
was the point of the works facing the ridge on the
southwest. At this point were the main assaults;
and here were exerted the most strenuous efforts of
the defenders.
A short distance in front of the fort, and across
the brow of this ridge, was a ditch, waist deep, per-
haps. Into this ditch were thrown as many men as
could be spared without weakening the other posi-
tions.
From one o’clock in the morning, save the half —
hour or so occupied in delivering and returning the
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 201
demand for a surrender, the enemy deluged the
heights with shot and shell. When the smoke lifted
during the advance of the flag of truce, the grey col-
umns could be seen, at every point of the compass,
moving into position, and closing up their cordon
about the hill.
If the sparse few who saw these hosts, grew dis-
couraged, and concluded that defence was useless,
they were scarcely to be blamed. They were out-
numbered, ten to one, and many believed that a
resistance would only provoke exasperation, and
result in a massacre.
The commander had, therefore, to struggle not
only against numerical superiority, but against a
feeling of discouragement, that took possession of
many of the men. As noon approached, and the
attacks of the Confederates had reduced the Federal
force to less than a single regiment, the discourage-
ment of his men changed into despair, and Corse
found the position beset by new difficulties. He
feared that there might be soldiers who would regard
surrender as a righteous alternative to a continued
defence, which promised no more than speedy cap-
ture and massacre by the men whom the tenacity of
the defence had driven to madness. To guard
against any such attempt as to run up a white flag,
he made himself omnipresent. He encouraged with
electric words those who clung to their positions ;
he drove laggards into the ditches with savage im-
precations ; and he menaced with a cocked revolver
any one who ventured to hint that further resistance
was useless. He moved ceaselessly from point to
Ga
202 Army and Other Sketches.
point, and was the genius who ruled the whirlwind
that raged around the crests of Allatoona.
In the little ditch facing the ridge to the southwest,
lay a portion of the 39th lowa infantry, under com-
mand of Lieutenant-Colonel James Redfield. He
was a good man to whom to intrust the key of the
fortress. He had long courted a fight. He was
anxious for distinction, and had often requested an
opportunity to display his merits. He was gratified
at Allatoona. He was given the post of danger and
of honor. And gallantly did this other son of the
Hawkeye State perform his task. Scorning the pro-
tection of the ditch, he placed himself on the rise of
ground behind it, whence he could overlook his
men. It was in full view of the assaulting forces,
and he became the target of a thousand muzzles.
He moved about in the iron tempest, and amidst the
scorching flashes of shell and gun, like an incarna-
tion of invulnerability and command. When the
serried masses of grey came up the crest, he was a
grand central figure in the background. His waving
sword, fierce oaths, and blazing eye rallied the en-
ergies of his men, and stimulated them to fresh exer-
tions. His leg was broken, so that it dragged like
some foreign body, and yet he refused to leave.
They brought him a chair, and he planted himself
squarely in his old position. Bullet after bullet
struck him, but he never left his post. His words —
of cheer grew fainter, his oaths less forcible, his
comniand less imperative. When the smoke from
one of the terrible assaults rolled up, he was dead.
A new danger now menaced the Federal com-
Some Fecollections of Allatoona. 203
mander. The muskets of his men began to burst at
the muzzle, and there was danger that, in a little
time, further defence would become impossible. In
this emergency, he gathered all the wounded who
were able to lift a gun, and, selecting those rifles
which had burst, he placed them in the hands of the
wounded, with the bayonets pointing outward. Here
was an adatizs of steel, feeble, it is true, but one
which enabled him to utilize every element of strength
in the command.
About noon a bullet ploughed along Corse’s tem-
ple, and stretched him senseless. Had it passed the
hundredth part of an inch more to the left, it would
have ended the attack on Allatoona. But even while
senseless, the indomitable spirit still controlled the
prostrate body. An order, ‘ Cease firing,” awoke
him to sufficient consciousness to fear that surrender
was intended, and to fiercely countermand it.
A little later, with head swathed in bandages, cov-
ered with blood, bare-headed, and blackened with
powder, he was moving among the feeble remnants
of his force, cursing, commanding, imploring a re-
sistance to death.
The men fought doggedly and despairingly on.
There was not a man of them that expected any
thing but death. The ditches became filled with
dead, whose pale faces, rigid features, and ghastly
wounds tended to fill the souls of the survivors with
fresh despair. The Confederates charged up to the
very brink of the rifle-pits, and their dead, as well
as those of the Federals, began to choke the slender
excavation, and make its occupation .a matter of
more and more difficulty.
204. Army and Other Sketches. |
Seeing that the defenders of the southwest ridge
were becoming weakened to an extent that would
certainly prevent the repulse of another assault in
force, Corse made preparations to assist them. A
gun was dragged to an embrasure of the fort that
commanded the ridge. The dead of the fort clogged
his progress, and Corse removed them back, and
piled them like a heap of cordwood, to make room
for his single gun. Then the powder was cut
loose from some fixed ammunition, and poured into
the piece. A blanket was torn into square strips and
wrapped around a quantity of minié balls. ~ This
improvised grape-shot was rammed home, and the
gun sighted down the crest. With hand on Jan-
yard, a sergeant named Croxton, who was badly
wounded, knelt beside the piece awaiting the criti-
cal moment.
It was about four o’clock, when solid masses of
grey once more came from behind a protecting spur
of the ridge, and formed across it. In a moment
they were in order, and then, with shrill yells, they
started toward the fort. It was the turning moment
of the day. They were coming in force, and with a
momentum that would have carried them over the
slender obstructions of the ditch, and up to and into
the fort.
It was just at this instant that the gun prepared
by Corse, was discharged. Its deadly contents tore _
through the deep ranks like wind through chaff.
They melted before the hot blast, and disappeared. 4 ¥
It was the last assault. The day was won. |
In this battle Corse lost over fifty per cent. of his:
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Some Lecollections of Allatoona. 205
forces. Nearly one-half were killed outright, and
but few remained unwounded. He killed, wounded
and captured more of the enemy than he had men
in his own command.
For these reasons do I think the battle at Allatoona
the most bloody, desperate, and gallant of the whole
war.
THE REVELATIONS OF A WIN-
DOW.
peewee OR three or four years, I lived in a certain
5 ARS part of a certain city, whose name or lo-
q/ cation is unimportant to the purpose of
this sketch. It does not matter to the
philosophic observer where a thing occurred. He
knows that human nature is so alike in its phenom-
ena, that something which takes place among the
Kamtschatkans is subject to the same laws and de-
ductions that is a similar affair developed among the
citizens of Chicago.
My place of business lay in one part of the city,
and my residence at another; and so far apart were
they that, in going from one to the other, I usually
availed myself of a regular public conveyance. Ow-
ing to my confinement in the office, I invariably,
when the weather permitted, rode outside. In this
way, I always had plenty of fresh air, and an oppor-
tunity to engage in my favorite pursuit of studying
faces. |
At a certain part of the route, over which I passed
every day, stood a two-story house. It was a struct-
ure of moderate pretensions, with blinds, and a
piazza, which, in summer, was clambered over by
luxurious vines. ‘There were two windows below,
The Revelations of a Window. 207
and three above. Of these three in the second story,
one was, I suspect, a “ blind,” for, during my three
years’ observation of the house, I never saw the
shutters of this particular window unclosed. There,
then, remained four windows — two above, and two
below ; and it is to what I saw in, about, and through
these windows, that I wish to invite the attention
and judgment of the reader.
The piazza was roofed over just above the first
floor windows. In the summer time, this piazza,
towards evening, became a pleasant place in which
to sit. The leafy vine shut out the heat, and the too
curious observation of the public; and there were
apertures between its branches, through which one,
in passing, could obtain glimpses of those who might
be sitting outside, or of the comfortable and well-
furnished parlor within, when the shutters were open
and the inside curtain not drawn down.
My observation of this house began one spring,
soon after a new family had moved into it. What
particularly attracted my attention was the fact that,
among other members of a family, which included a
deformed brother and an old lady who appeared to
be the mother, were two young women, whose ages
might have been respectively between eighteen and
twenty-two years. Neither was remarkable for
either beauty or plainness. They were both tall, slen-
der; with rather fine eyes, regular features, and very
heavy masses of dark, wavy hair. Of course, these
peculiarities only revealed themselves by degrees. It
took some months for me to be able to distinguish
them apart, and to become familiar with their fea-
tures, form and other traits.
208 Army and Other Sketches. —
Sometimes I saw them seated on the portico, when
I went up in the evening; but usually I saw them
seated at the lower or upper windows. They were
not always there when I passed, nor were they al-
ways together. Sometimes I would not see either
for several days. At times, one would be seated in
the parlor below, or one or the other would be stand-
ing at the window above. In any case, I rarely ever
had a view of them which lasted beyond a single
glance, or, at most, for more than two or three sec-
onds. The vehicle upon which I rode always moved
rapidly, and hence there was but little time allowed
for observation of any object along our route.
The reader now has before him the book from
which he is about to read. This book consists of
two young ladies, neither ugly nor handsome, of
medium intelligence, and who, together or singly,
once in two or three days, were visible at the win-
dow for a space which varied from one to three sec-
onds. It is a very small volume from which to
attempt to read much; but it will, perhaps, be found
that there isa good deal more in it than there seems
to be. Reading lives from faces is a species of short-
hand process. It is full of delicate characters, each
one of which expresses frequently a word, and often
a whole sentence.
The first thing that attracted my attention was,
that neither of the two young women appeared at
the windows except when she was, so to speak, in
full costume. They were never visible in the morn-
ing. Then the shutters were all closed. In the
afternoon, some of the lower shutters were usually
fe
The Revelations of a Window. 209
open; and, seated in full view of the street, was one
or the other, or sometimes both. At such times,
their toilettes were elaborate. ‘Their abundant hair
was artistically arranged, and their position such as
to show to the best advantage both hair and dress.
There was something in the careful toilette and
studied carelessness of their positions, which led
to the conclusion that they had arranged them to
attract attention. That they were unmarried, was
evident from a hundred things, but chiefly that I
never detected them in deshadzllé or gloved for
household service. They were evidently unmarried,
and were waiting and watching.
The object for which they thus waited and watched
Was apparent. Something in their positions and
faces revealed the secret. ‘The former was always
suggestive of what I may term ‘“‘ adhesiveness.”
When together, they seemed to incline towards each
other with a movement that appeared full of affec-
tion, and which seemed to suggest the want of
support. They seemed like two vines which had
commenced twining about each other, and which by
the very operation suggested the necessity of a
stronger object upon which to twine. In short, there
was something in their position with relation to each
other which, while always attractive and interesting,
unavoidably left the inference that there was want-
ing the element of strength to complete the group.
The void which thus always appeared was one which
only could be filled by the strength of manhood.
No young man could gaze upon the picture without
seeing in it something which powerfully suggested
to him that he should become a part of it.
210 Army and Other Sketches.
There was the same element of strength lacking
in the positions assumed by either of them when she
occupied the window alone. Of course, there was
variety in her attitudes; but they all showed the
same general character, and indicated the same result. |
She would sit, for instance, as if waiting. Her body
would be thrown forward; her lips slightly parted,
as if to welcome the comer; her head turned a little
one side, as if to catch the first foot-fall of the ex-
pected one. Her eyes had, apparently, a languid,
tender expression, as if the one who was coming
were one who would be met with rapture. At other
times, her attitude assumed the despondent. Her
bowed head would rest in her hand; her half-closed
eyes would gaze pensively into vacuity; and her
whole expression would be that of profound dejec-
tion.
If the one position was suggestive of welcoming
some one, the other was equally suggestive of disap-
pointment at the arrival of no one. The latter
seemed to possess an expression of infinite loneliness. —
Its inference was, that some one was lacking, —
somebody was wanted to chase away the loneliness,
to afford the bowed head a support other than the
slender hands, and to win the melting eyes from the
waste of tenderness which they were softly flashing
into vacancy.
Was this nature, or art? I will not undertake to
say for the present. Suffice it, that, in all their group-
ings, attitudes and expression, they suggested invari-
ably that there was an absent element. That element
was not that of woman. They seemed to develop
The Revelations of a Window. 211
all that was womanly. ‘The missing, the completing
element, suggested itself as one of strength, of man-
hood; of something which was the natural comple-
ment, and yet the exact opposite, of the various qual-—
ities which they so constantly developed.
It is probable that every young woman naturally
expresses the same peculiar ideas that I gathered
from these groups in the window; but, ordinarily,
this is true only to a limited degree. In the case of
the average of young women, these suggestions are
often scarcely understood by others; they are mys-
terious, tormenting, uncertain ; but in the case of the
two of whom I write, the inference from their efforts
was as plain as if written in a book.
As I have said, I have concluded that they were
waiting and watching. Deftly and patiently they
wove a shining web across the sashes. Now one
labored at it, now the other, and then both. Its
threads sparkled in the sunlight, and were reflected
with a shimmer which was sometimes that of silver,
or again one which was iridescent in the variety of
its coloring. It was a parti-colored and altogether
attractive web. One day a masculine fly fell into it ;
and the labor was rewarded.
I knew the fly was caught, because the labor at
the web was discontinued; and I knew that nothing
save death would turn a woman from her course
when in pursuit of a husband. That they were not
dead, I knew, for I continued to see them through
the window.
It was some weeks before I caught sight of a slen-
der, weak-eyed youth, with a large head, and whom
212 Army and Other Sketches.
I knew to be the fly that had ventured into the Cir-
cean web. But I knew that he — that is, some he —
had become entangled. I discovered it through the
window as easily as I had understood the process
and objects of weaving the web. I knew it because
the labor of weaving was discontinued. They came
to the window as often as before; but the spirit
which inspired the old groupings had gone. They
now came and sat down the same as ordinary people. |
Neither expressed the act of waiting or expectation
in the turn of her head or the poise of her body.
They sat down carelessly. They stared through the
windows at the passers-by precisely the same as they
would had the people been so many cattle.
I readily discerned to whose share the victim had
fallen. It was she who suddenly passed from a con-
dition of pensive watching into one of common-place
indifference. Hitherto she had always appeared as
if expecting some one from the vacuity into which
she gazed. All at once, she was found gazing
straight into the street, or looking at her sister, as if
the question of twining had become obsolete. Her
hair lost its elaborate arrangement; her dress was
now as often calico as silk,—as often thrown on
loosely as it once had been fitted with the nicest care.
It was some time before the victim was visible. I
first noticed him leaning disconsolately against the
window, and looking abstractedly at nothing. He
was always alone. He never seemed to form a part
of the tableau which had once so suggestively invited
his presence. Sometimes he was sitting in a chair,
and leaning very much forward. He appeared to
The Revelations of a Window. 213
be possessed of a sort of married look, which ex-
pressed itself in a sort of general settling down of
his body towards his boots. He seemed to be grad-
ually passing from a solid to a gelatinous condition.
His abstracted air, his lonely look, his general ap-
pearance of ‘settling down,” told the whole history
of his‘experience. He had ventured in to make the
third in the picture in the window. He had desired
to supply its needed complement. He had offered
himself as the oak about which the clinging vines
might twine. He had presented himself as the ele-
ment of strength which only seemed lacking in the
grouping behind the sashes. As a third, as a com-
plement, as an oak, as an element of strength, he
was evidently a failure.
Some months rolled away, and, after a while, the
abstracted, lonely face disappeared from the window.
An interval occurred, and then there were some strips
of crape hung on the door-knob. Some body was
evidently dead; but the closed shutters gave no op-
portunity to discover who was missing.
A week or so later, there was another picture at
the window. It was composed of the same old fig-
ures as the one which had been there long before.
But this time, one was robed in deepest black, and I
saw that she was a widow.
My last observations in that direction revealed that
the grouping at the window was still continued.
This time, it was the same, only more effective than
before. The frail, stricken form in black seemed the
very impersonation of weakness. ‘There was a sug-
gestion, in every fold of the black robe, of a loneli-
214 Army and Other Sketches.
ness that needed companionship; a weakness that
needed support; a drooping that required the assist-
ance of a strong arm. ‘There was the same vine
mutely appealing for something whereon to twine.
There was the same picture, suggesting the lack only
of masculine strength to secure its perfection.
And then the two were so admirably arranged, —
the one to contrast, to serve as a foil to, a suggestion
for the other. The supreme weakness and woe
revealed in the attitude and habiliments of the one,
suggested the need of a companionship more vigor-
ous, more strong, than were afforded by the other.
Ever the expression of the unwidowed one appeared
to be: ‘* Come, strong arms, and aid me to sustain
this pitiful woe which now leans against weak me,
and overpowers my slender strength !”
And thus the glimpses through the window re-
vealed themselves; and thus the glimpses at the
window may be revealing themselves at the very
hour in which I write. The deft web-weavers may
be still at their labors of stretching the woof of their
enchantment across the sashes. The threads of the
web may still shimmer in the sunlight, — may still
reflect the rainbow in their coloring.
There are just such windows all over the world,
behind which are being woven just such webs.
There are thousands of silly masculine flies which
will become entangled in them, and, after a while,
will be tumbled out, the mere skin of their former
selves. Wherever there are artful women, and weak
young men, there are such groupings, such pictures,
such suggestions and invitations, and such results.
A REVELATION OF CLAIRVOY-
ANCE.
meri, writer hereof is a clairvoyant. He
#§ can see ahead of him, or behind him,
when there is nothing to obstruct his
vision.
The other day, after a discussion with a young
woman on progress, social science, nursing babies,
Anna Dickinson, woman’s rights, and a few other
matters, such as usually form the staple of chit-chat
between a young woman and a young man, he fell
into a reverie on the vast progress being made by
men and women. From a reverie he passed into a
clairvoyant condition, in which he saw many things.
Here is what he saw:
It was a century later than the great American
rebellion. Social science had developed with enor-
mous rapidity. Vast changes had occurred every
where, but chiefly in the relations of the sexes. In
short, the conditions which existed in the nineteenth
century had become exactly reversed in the case of
men and women. ‘The former had stopped growth ;
the latter had progressed. At the exact moment
when the writer, a fair-haired blond of twenty, ap-
peared among these revers social conditions, women
and men had just exactly changed the positions
which they formerly occupied.
216 Army and Other Sketches.
Woman had progressed to the ballot, and had
continued on until she had usurped the rights of gov-
erning. As she seized upon the right, she had de-
prived man of it, and had gradually forced him
downward, and repressed him, until he was confined
exclusively to the family. Man had grown timid
and modest; woman bold and outspoken. She oc-
cupied the counting-rooms; attended the saloons ;
ran the billiard rooms, edited the newspapers, filled
the public offices, and thronged the hall of the Cham-
ber of Commerce. He attended boarding-schools ;
was the domestic in the kitchen; nursed and raised
the children; filled the subordinate departments in
the public schools; opened and owned millinery
shops; danced in the ballet, and, in short, felt and
acted like the women of the century before.
It was a pleasant summer day in July, 1969, that
this story begins. The golden-haired blonde of
twenty who is writing this article found himself on
that particular day in the city of Chicago. He
seemed to know that he belonged to a previous age;
but yet he seemed to belong to the period and the
society of 1969. He lived at home with his parents.
His father was a gentle, amiable man, who was pos-
sessed of every quiet grace and accomplishment.
His mother was likewise remarkable. He was
fortunate in his mother. She was a woman of won-
derful vigor of body and intellect. She was a law-
yer, and a rising woman of massive judgment,
prodigious energy, and untiring perseverance. She
commanded universal respect, and was in a fair way
to be elevated to the bench.
A Revelation of Clatrvoyance. 214
The golden-haired young hero of this tale found
himself sitting upon the shaded verandah of a pala-
tial house on an avenue on the West Side. Green
vines clambered over the piazza, and fluttered trem-
ulously, as touched by a cool breeze. Half con-
cealed by these umbrageous vines sat our sweet
young hero. Near him sat his gentle father, engaged
in hemming a pocket handkerchief. Upon the lap
of the son lay a book. Near him was a guitar.
Through the open window was seen his piano, and
attached to one of its legs a gold medal, and to an-
other a cross of the Legion of Honor. It was a
superb Chickering-Steinway, and had taken two
prizes at the World’s Fair.
In the eyes of our sweet young hero was a dreamy,
far-away look. His glance seemed to be turned upon
something immeasurably distant, — some scene peo-
pled with glorious visions. Anon a smile brightened
upon his pouting, cherry lips. Suddenly his charm-
ing reverie was broken by the voice of his father.
*¢ My son,” said the latter, ‘‘ of what are you think-
ing so intently?”
A deep blush suffused the face of the golden-haired,
and it was with downcast eyes and a trembling
voice, which he vainly tried to render indifferent,
that he answered :
** Oh, nothing, papa !”
An arch smile stole over the kindly face of the
father, as he noted these evidences of emotion.
“Ah, my sweet child! you can not deceive your
father. Come, now, confess ; you were thinking of
Barbara, the law-student !”
to
218 Army and Other Sketches.
Carnation stole over his cheeks, and it was with
downcast eyes and averted face that he replied:
‘¢ Oh, papa! how can you?”
A moment later, and the blushing youth had flung
his arms about his father’s neck, and his face was
hidden in his father’s bosom. The low-breathed con-
fession then whispered in the father’s ear by the
clinging, kneeling son, is too sacred for revelation.
Suffice it that it was the confession of love’s first
young dream. The father heard it all, and then,
pressing a kiss upon the brow of his clinging child,
he whispered :
‘¢ Have courage, my Jakie; all shall yet be well !”
With one strong, almost convulsive, embrace, the
young boy released his hold, and fled with the speed
of an antelope to the quiet of his room. ‘The old
gentleman gazed a moment at his retiring form, and
then, brushing a tear from his eye, murmured:
‘““Ah! sweet child! How like what I was once
myself, in years agone !”
It was night. The mother of our blonde hero had
returned from her legal labors.
The family was gathered in the comfortable draw-
ing-room. The mother sat with her feet on the
mantel, smoking a cigar, and perusing the twelfth
evening edition of the Chicago Times. The father
and -son sat by the centre-table, engaged in em-
broidery.
‘‘ How does your suit succeed, my dear?” said the
father, breaking a prolonged silence.
** Oh! badly,” said the head of the family, as she
threw down the paper with a gesture of vexation.
A Revelation of Clairvoyance. 219
** You see,” she continued, ‘‘ the sympathies of juries
now-a-days are all with a man. If he applies for
divorce, or sues for breach of promise, a feminine
jury will always give him their verdict. Times are
not what they were.”
‘¢ Well, never mind,” said the affectionate father.
* Don’t think of it. Read us the news in that de-
lightful, moral and poetical family paper, the Suzday
Times.”
The mother complied. Taking up the newspaper,
she read as follows:
““UNUSUAL CRUELTY TO A HuSBAND.—Bridget Stapleton
was yesterday morning, at the police Court, fined $50, and
required to give bonds of $500, to keep the peace toward
her husband. The latter testified that he had passed
through a siege of abuse and cruelty, which had continued
for nine years.
‘THE CASE OF ALLEGED RApE.—Mary Ann Lind, the
young woman accused of having committed a rape upon
the person of Jeremiah Elliott, a deaf mute, was arraigned
at the police court yesterday morning. No evidence was
taken, and the case was continued until Friday, in bail of
$1,000.
“A TRIPLE SENTENCE. — Delilah Guyton, a habitual
drunkard, and chronic husband-whipper, was yesterday
morning sentenced by Justice Sturtevant to pay a fine of
$10, to be imprisoned in the bridewell ten days, and to give
$200 bail to keep the peace.”’
‘¢ Women are becoming sadly demoralized,” said
the mother of our golden-haired hero, as she folded
up the paper. ‘Nothing now-a-days but husband-
beating on the part of women, and applications for
220 Army and Other Sketches.
divorce on the part of suffering men. It is terrible!
Something should be done to elevate man, and make
him less dependent upon woman. By-the-way, my
dear, you are one of the directors of the Erring
Man’s Refuge ; how does that institution prosper ?”
‘* Not so well as we could wish,” replied the father,
with a sigh. ‘To be sure we are effecting some-
thing; but prosti i
A shriek from his son arrested the father’s remarks.
Turning toward the golden-haired youth, he was seen
to be in hysterics.
‘“It was your remark, sir,”
ejaculated the mother
sternly to the weeping father. ‘* You do not seem to
consider his sensitive nature. Why will you use
such terms as pro ——?”
Another and a louder shriek from the son inter-
rupted her remarks. Burnt feathers and hartshorn
were applied, and in a little while the youth opened
his beautiful blue eyes.
‘¢ Where am I, father ?”
‘‘ Here, darling, in your father’s arms,” said the
latter, as he chafed the pallid brow of his golden-
haired son. He was soon after removed, sobbing,
but quieted, to his bed; and then, returning to the
parlor, the parents resumed the conversation.
‘¢ We can do but little,’ continued the father, as
he retook his embroidery, ‘* because our sex seem
mad beyond remedy. For every fallen man that we
take from the bagnio, there are a dozen who take his
place. Abandoned men boldly walk the streets,
haunt our places of amusement, and every where
jostle decency and virtue. The love of display in
i>
A Revelation of Clairvoyance. 221
men; their vanity; their confidence in women, —
these are what lead mento ruin. I am sure I do not
know where to look for the remedy.”
And thus for hours the conversation flowed apace.
Another night passed, and another day came. It
was towards sunset. The boulevards, avenues and
promenades of Chicago were thronged with its mul-
tifarious populations. Fair men and brave women
crowded the thoroughfares, fanned by breezes that
fluttered inland after dipping their wings in the cool
waters of the lake.
It was a motley crowd that flowed along the chan-
nels of the city. Abandoned men, gorgeous in dress,
bold in look, and painted like tiger-lilies, thronged
the streets. At the crossings, and gathered in knots
here and there, were women, who expectorated to-
bacco juice, puffed out volumes of cigar smoke,
indulged in ribald conversation, and commented
upon the faces and ankles of the passing gentlemen.
Adown a principal thoroughfare came a beautiful,
golden-haired young man, dressed with exquisite
taste. His countenance seemed the home of purity
and modesty. He saw the bold glances of the
women lounging at the street-corners, but he uns
derstood them not, save that they filled him with
an indefinable terror and loathing.
As his resplendent figure passed, men turned envi-
ously, and women admiringly, to notice him.
At a distance, dogging his footsteps like sleuth-
hounds, came two ill-favored, female ruffians. Ever
at such a distance behind the golden-haired vision of
loveliness, came the two.
222 Army and Other Sketches.
Twilight melted into night, and the beautiful young
man seemed suddenly to awake from a delicious rev-
erie, and to become aware that night had fallen.
Looking about him with a glance of terror, he saw
that he was standing upon Rush street bridge. Be-
yond him was the lake, and beneath him Chicago
river.
He turned to retrace his steps, when suddenly he
felt himself clasped by rough, strong arms. A wild
shriek for help rang out upon the startled air; and
then he became enshrouded with blissful uncon-
sciousness.
*¢ Look alive, Semantha!”’ said one of the ruffians ;
‘that yell ll bring the perlice. Ef Mother Kennedy
gets after us, we’re a goner.”
So saying, they lifted the inanimate form of the
unconscious youth, and bore it rapidly towards a
hack which had constantly followed them.
At the moment that the rufhanly-looking, female
driver stood holding the door, and as the two she-
wretches were about to thrust in the pallid victim,
there came an interruption. There was a rush of
swift footsteps, and, a moment later, a stalwart young
woman, with eyes blazing with wrath, stood upon
the scene.
‘*Unhand him, scoundrels!” and, as she uttered
this in thunder tones, she launched out from the
shoulder with both hands, and the she-ruffians rolled
in the dust. Lifting the inanimate body of the youth,
she sprang into the carriage,
** Now, woman, devil! drive us to my father’s.
You know me! Woe be on your accursed head if
you do not obey.” |
19?
—
;
>
‘
A Revelation of Clatrvoyance. 223
Cowed by her eye of fire, the driver climbed
upon her seat, and drove rapidly away.
“Tt is I, Jakie darling. Do you not know me?”
Jakie unclosed his beautiful eyes. The glare of a
passing street-lamp flashed in the carriage window,
and he saw that he was in the arms of his own
BARBARA }
We draw a veil over the scene that followed. Suf-
fice it that, moved by gratitude for his escape, and
the passionate appeals of Barbara, the golden-haired
youth consented to name the happy day. It was
fixed for that day fortnight. The maternal blessing
Was given, and gorgeous preparations were made
for the bridal. ‘Time ralled away, and, on the morn-
ing of the appointed day, the golden-haired young
Thing was arrayed in his bridal garments and sur-
rounded by sympathetic bridesmen,
A. stately woman advanced, hands were clasped,
and the solemn words uttered which united indisso-
lubly the lives of this strong woman and this beau-
tiful, virtuous man,
The writer regrets being unable to state what fol-
lowed, owing to his being recalled early the same
evening from his clairvoyant condition, The last he
remembers was being shown to the nuptial chamber
by his benevolent father.
A LEAP-YEAR ROMANCE.
me v4] OST love me, sweet one?”
The hot blood rushed tumultuously into
my burning cheeks as I heard this impas-
sioned inquiry. My long lashes involun-
tarily sank upon my cheeks. My heart drummed a
fierce tattoo against my breast. My long, taper
fingers worked convulsively with my watch-guard.
My voice sank back into my throat, and my reply
came like the low murmur of waters, as they flow
modestly from the fountain-head into the garish light
of day. Andthereply? It was:
MY ou bell?
She clasped me convulsively to her bosom. My
head fell upon her shoulder. The next moment she
tenderly lifted my averted face, and our lips met ina
long, clinging kiss.
This was on the evening of February 5, 1868, in
a house on the West side. I was just nineteen.
Born in wedlock, I had already entertained a vene-
ration for that institution.
I was just nineteen. My soul was pervaded with
new and bewitching sensations. Mysterious, and
yet delicious, flushes wandered through my being,
coming and going I knew not whither. They were
like aromatic breezes in search of flowers to breathe
upon, and finding them not. These flowers which
‘=
A Leap-Year Romance. 225
my soul lacked were the young buds of passion, —
of love. The germs — both plumule and radical —
were there, but undeveloped. Hence, nothing for
the mysterious breezes to breathe upon,—to dally
with, —to caress.
But, on that evening, these germs suddenly ex-
panded. They budded in modest tenderness, and
then blossomed.
She who spoke to me — whose magic awoke these
sleeping forms, and covered my whole interior life
with young and gorgeous blossoms — was a lady of
twenty-one summers. She was a magnificent crea-
ture. Her luxurious chestnut hair was rufHed in
front like a wave touched by a disturbing breeze. A
magnificent water-fall rose from, and intensified the
expression of, her organ of philoprogenitiveness.
Her eyes were dark as night, and seemed to float in
a humid tenderness. Her teeth were diaphanous
pearls. Her mouth was wide, with voluptuous lips
that unfolded like a scarlet revelation. They were
lips as_ suggestive of what was within as is the red
flag of the auctioneer.
Her shoulders were of an exquisite roundness.
They were like ivory injected with rich, red blood.
Her white bosom rose and fell, not with the angular
regularity of a pair of bellows, but with graceful
and wave-like undulations. Her slender waist might
be clasped with one’s interlocked fingers. Her
but I forbear, lest I become tedious.
We sat side by side on the sofa. Her arm had
stolen about my waist, and had drawn me close —
very close —to her. Her other hand wandered, like
10*
3
226 Army and Other Sketches.
an ethereal and shapely materiality, caressingly
through my young moustache. My head reclined
upon her marble shoulder; my nostrils drank in an
almost imperceptible, but intoxicating perfume, that
emanated from the warm pillow of alabaster. My
senses were rocked with the undulations of the bosom.
The perfume bewildered; the almost impalpable
motion lulled; the touch of her fingers gave forth
electric discharges that thrilled through my sens-
uous centres with a result that was half scorching
and half ecstatic. I seemed sinking into an abyss,
which yet, while an abyss, was pervaded with
delicious intoxication. I did not appear to be fall-
ing, but rather, as it were, floating gently down
toward something, I knew not what, and which
half-invited and half-terrified me.
But suddenly something seemed to call me to my-
self, —to lfe,—to reality. With a superhuman
effort, I lifted myself from out the abyss into which I
was falling, — falling. I lifted myself up, as a man
who, standing in a basket, should, to escape some
deadly peril, suddenly put forth a giant’s strength,
and lift himself over a protecting wall.
I came back to life from some nameless terror,
whose outlines I saw beyond me. I saw but out-
lines. What menaced me, I knew not.
Raising my eyes suddenly to hers, I saw that their
blaze was toned down with an ineffable tenderness.
The richest of carnation glowed all over her cheeks
and bosom. I was seized with a nameless terror.
Bidding my wildly-throbbing heart be still, I sum-
moned steadiness to my voice, and said:
A Leap-Year Romance. 227
** Now that you have wrung a confession of love
from my lips, WHEN WILL YOU MARRY ME?”
The soft light rolled away from her eyes, as mists
disappear from the face of the sun. The blood fled
from her cheeks. Her eyes dropped confusedly.
_“ Marry — you?” she stammered.
“Yes, my own, marry me. Let us, in this mo-
ment of bliss, name the happy day, as men who,
slightly drunken with strong tea, agree upon a time
when they shall meet for an intoxication upon the
fiery wines of France.”
** Nay, but, love,” she said, “ let us not now dis-
cuss this. ‘To-morrow, or next week, we will ar-
range definitely our future. Let us not, with base
dates, derange the spell of love’s first, young dream.
What is time to us?”
*‘ Miss,” I replied, ‘‘ this minute, — this fractional
portion of the present second! Not to-morrow for
haY cg fe
‘““Ah, you distrust me!” she exclaimed in a re-
proachful voice.
‘¢ Not distrust,” I said, *‘ but—safety.”
‘* You have no confidence in me, my love! Be-
lieve in me,—confide in me,—trust me! Let us
defer what you speak of till another meeting.”
Suddenly I tore myself from her grasp, and sprang
into the centre of the room. All the dark perfidy of
the woman rose before me; her sinister intentions
flashed over me, like a revelation come by lightning.
‘¢ Fiend! monster !” [exclaimed, as I menaced her
with uplifted finger,—‘‘I know you! Begone from
this abode of purity! Such as you have no place
228 Army and Other Sketches.
here! Avaunt! Quit my sight, ere I call upon
heaven’s thunderbolts to annihilate you in the midst
of your wicked purpose !”
Paralyzed by my vehemence, she arose, and, with-
out one look or word of farewell, left the house. I
stood erect and flashing with haughty anger, till she
had disappeared, and then I sank helpless and sense-
less to the floor.
It was hours before I recovered consciousness.
Since that hour, I have been weak and stricken, but,
nevertheless, grateful, like one who has faced, and
then escaped, a deadly peril.
I write this for the benefit of my brethren. This
year is one that menaces us with mortal wrongs.
Only those who are warned may escape. Even
those who are warned will need far more than ordi-
nary resolution to secure their safety.
Ah! my brethren, let us be vigilant. For twelve
months will we be exposed to the attacks of a foe,
than which there is none more subtle, seductive, and
dangerous. Let each man who listens to my words
take warning, and prepare himself for a struggle
whose issues involve more than death.
THE HORRORS OF MASONRY.
ama TTT noble, enterprising, and moral Chris-
&. | tians who met in convention in Chicago,
| for the purpose of kicking over Masonry,
have my profound sympathies. Why I
ree sympathize with their efforts, I shall proceed to
relate.
Out in a smiling little railway town there can be
seen, to-day, the remnants of a man. He now, in
his reduced condition, weighs only 230. Had not
there happened to him the fearful event which I am
about to narrate, he might now weigh as much as a
ton, or as the editress of Zhe Agétalor.
It was two years ago that this citizen became pos-
sessed with the righteous idea that Masonry is a
blight, a wilt, a blast. After carefully examining
the matter, he felt himself called upon to undertake
a crusade against the afflicting organization. After
consulting with several of his friends, he concluded
to join the order, get its secrets, and then annihilate
it by revealing them.
Bidding a tearful farewell to his loving wife, and
clasping her in a fond, it might be a last, embrace,
he started on his pilgrimage.
Going boldly to a lodge-room, he knocked loudly
at the door, and was bidden to enter. He went in.
At that precise moment, the air was rent, and the
230 Army and Other Sketches.
earth shaken by a terrific burst of thunder. His
knees smote together, as this menacing roar tore
through his ear; but he pressed forward, nerved by
a high sense of duty.
It was noon of the following day. The single
street of the little village was lined with anxious
faces. Every man, woman, and child had turned
out to discuss the fate of him who had gone the night
before to discover and reveal the secrets of Masonry.
His frenzied wife, clasping an infant in either arm,
tearing her disheveled hair with her hands, ran hither
and thither, like a maniac, in search of her loved and
lost.
_ Since the time of his departure, he had not been
seen or heard of. It was believed that he had fallen
a victim to the fury of the conspirators whom he had
undertaken to expose.
Gradually the women, and the children, and the
men, gathered in front of the gloomy pile which was
believed to contain the Pexetralza in which met the
dread Masonic order. With upturned faces, and
anxious hearts, they gazed at its closed shutters, each
of which seemed the repository of some awful secret.
Suddenly the front doors opened, and then, pro-
pelled by a tremendous kick, there shot into the
street a horrid form!
It was that of the lost husband; but, oh! how
changed! He was neither naked nor clad, for upon
his left foot was a slipper; upon his right, a stock:
ing ; around his neck, a noose with a dangling cord!
He came down the steps at a headlong pace. His
eyes were bloodshot, and were lighted with a glance
Lhe Horrors of Masonry. 231
of mortal terror. As he reached the sidewalk he
recovered himself, and looked wildly around.
Thus he stood for five minutes, and then a woman
covered her face with her apron, and the other
women, a few minutes later, followed her example.
Then he gave a demoniacal yell, and charged
through the crowd. Up the street he tore like a
maddened bull, yelling at every jump, as though
punched with a red-hot iron.
The entire population started in pursuit. He kept
on for three days, and then run himself into the
ground, and was captured. He was found to be an
idiot. He asserted that his name was Solomon
Abiff, and he wanted an acacia set out in his ear.
To-day this victim of Masonic cruelty wanders
about, aimless and hopeless. He often mistakes
some body else’s wife for his own, and can not rec-
ognize his own children. He is a melancholy wreck,
and his friends have determined, as a last resort, to
secure him a consulship to some foreign nation. _
Does not this affecting incident prove the nefarious
character of Masonry, beyond all dispute?
Some years ago I knew of a most foul murder
being committed. A Mason was arrested for the
crime. HE WAS NOT CONVICTED.
It was proved that he was 500 miles away at the
time, and that the murdered man was killed by some
body else. But what of that? Who doubts that he
escaped because he was a Mason?
I knew another case which shows the devilish dis-
position of Masons. A prominent married man
applied to a friend whom he supposed to be a
259 Army and Other Sketches.
Mason, for the degrees. The latter got together six
others, and organized a plan to receive the appli-
cant.
The. latter was received on the night in question,
in the ‘‘lodge” room. Blue lights burned, and sol-
emn gongs roared, while the seven conspirators
groaned portentously in chorus.
And then the applicant was blindfolded and led
over one turned-up table, across twelve inverted
chairs, tripped over seven extended legs, soused in
four tubs of water, slid down one soaped board,
against the grain, and was then brought up to be
examined.
Sworn on an authenticated copy of Munchausen,
to tell the truth, he was interrogated by the G. R. J.,
who was the village physician.
‘¢ Confess,” said the latter, ‘“‘all your sins. If there
be one crime on your conscience, you must reveal it.
On your honor, on your solemn oath, have you ever
done aught to wrong the marital relations of any cit-
izen of this village?” ;
‘* Must I answer this question?” said the shrinking
candidate.
‘You MUST, would you ever pass beneath the
Royal Arch,” solemnly responded Dr. R. ‘Answer,
now, upon your fearful oath.”
‘No one, then, except—except—in the case of—
Doctor R.!” reluctantly confessed the candidate.
Suddenly Dr. R. launched out his right hand, and
“handed” the candidate ‘‘one” on his smeller.
Then the latter tore off his bandage, and, being
game, he responded with his left. Then the two
The forrors of Masonry. 233
clinched, and fought all over the one table and the
twelve chairs; four times up and down the soaped
board, and in and out every tub of water, for four
hours and thirty-eight minutes. Both were licked
so badly that they had to be carried home on
blankets.
A suit for divorce followed, and Dr. R. and Mrs.
R. took separate lodgings.
This heart-rending occurrence exemplifies, further,
the atrocious character of Masonry. It is seen that
Masonry is a convenient garb in which men zot
Masons may perpetrate inhumanities and nameless
crimes. I charge upon Masonry the breaking up of
the happy family of Dr. R., by separating him from
a wife who loved wisely, and two well.
As a further proof of the infamous character of
these Morgan-killers, I will expose some of their
orgies which occurred at Haas’s Park, near the city
of Chicago.
St. John’s day is observed by those people who
killed Morgan. Morgan is a man who was killed in
time to carry an election. His initials are G. E., —
Good Enough Morgan.
The men who killed Morgan had red plumes in
their hats, at Haas’s Park, which indicated their
bloody character. They also all had swords. They
are the same kind of swords with which G. E.
Morgan was slaughtered. They also carried several
immense poles, which are pointed at one end. These
poles are employed for the purpose of marking spots
to be used for the graves of those whom the order
slaughters.
234 Army and Other Sketches.
A good many of the men had engravings of skulls
on their breasts. These are accurate likenesses of
the skulls of men who have been murdered by the
Masons. When a Mason has killed three men, he
is entitled to wear a likeness of his victims’ heads,
and to take the degree known as Golgotha.
This is the true explanation of these skull badges.
Of course the Masons do not own it. They pre-
tended that they wore these skulls on account of the
wet weather. They said a flood might come up,
and they wanted to be ready to scull themselves to
diy land. 3
Each of them had the number 32. among his
ensignia. This is the number which eacn of them
is sworn to kill.
The Masonic performances at Haas’s Park were
of a sinister character. How many men and women
were slaughtered during the orgies of the day, and
vuried among the shadows, no one, unless a member
of the anti-Masonic societies, will ever know. One
man not a Mason was discovered among the crowd.
An hour later, he was found prone on his back
behind a tent. He was dead, yes, dead — drunk.
Some of the ceremonies of the saturnalia were hor-
rifying. One Druidical-looking Mason, with a long,
gray beard, and lurid spectacles, read something
from a roll of manuscript. As he did so he was sur-
rounded by an auditory that occupied itself with
weird and fantastic ceremonials. His words seemed
to fill them with a strange power. Unearthly sounds
filled the building, in which one could distinguish
gurglings like that of blood from gashed throats, or
The Horrors of Masonry. 235
the flow of champagne from bottles. The air was
filled with whizzing pellets the size of corks. Bursts
of demoniacal laughter tore through the din. The
further the speaker with the lurid spectacles pro-
ceeded, the louder grew the clamor.
It was a fine address—probably. It was a cere-
monial said to be illustrative of the condition of the
Masons who built the tower of Babel.
Some of the Masonic rites are peculiar. As every
thing about the craft has some mathematical connec-
tion, the triangle, the square, the pentagon, etc.,
were symbolized. The circle was represented by
six small rings about the size of a silver dollar. A
Masonic candidate would take these six rings and
attempt to throw them, one at a time, over spikes
driven in a board. To take one of these degrees
cost twenty-five cents. If the candidate threw one
of the rings around one of the spikes, he was ad-
judged worthy and well-qualified.
Another degree, which was conferred upon a good
many, was one in which the candidates stood in
rows, and poured an amber-colored fluid, with a
creamy surface, into their opened mouths. These
degrees cost five cents each. One man took forty-
two of these during the afternoon. He was then
the highest Mason on the ground, except a thermom-
eter. There was a thermometer on the ground that
had reached the 85th degree.
Every once in a while would be heard a loud
exclamation. It came from some body who was
being murdered. In several cases of which I was a
witness, these fell victims of Masonic vengeance
226" Army and Other Sketches.
were outsiders, who were disposed of by being shot
in the neck.
Lovely women were there, who mingled with the
descendants of men who killed Morgan as freely as
if they had been pious members of the Young
Men’s Christian Association. A Woman is a mys-
tery. Her liking for Masonry can only be explained
on the ground that it is composed exclusively of
men. In loving Masonry, she is engaged in a sort
of wholesale business of the affections.
The sexton of the order is a man named Berry.
He has charge of the Berry-al services. It has its
Bailey, which will hold more than any other insti-
tution of the kind in existence.
And all this time the killing was going on about
the encampment. Just how many were slaughtered
will not be known with certainty until the next meet-
ing of the anti-Masonic Convention.
Mrs. Livermore is not a member. She stated in
a late speech that when she was born she turned het
face to the wall and wept because she was a girl.
and was, therefore, forever debarred from being a
Mason and obtaining her rites.
There were several cases of missing men, which
shows the true character of Masonry. One woman
missed her husband. ‘They had been long married,
and she had learned to like him. And now he was
gone. She commenced a frantic search. She found
him in a tent, conversing in low, impassioned tones
with a woman younger and better looking than her-
self. Her heart was broken at the sight! Such are
the doings of Masonry!
The Horrors of Masonry. 237
They had what was called an encampment. A
Mason in camp meant one who was engaged in
something horrible, as can be proved by the proceed-
ings of the anti-secret national convention. The lat-
ter had some camps. ‘These scamps at Farwell Hall
differed from those camps at Haas’s Park.
Toward night, when the Masons grew tired of
slaughter, they simply selected their victims, and
left them bound. I saw scores of them bound — for
home. It was a thrilling spectacle. One’s heart
bled as he contemplated their woe-begone faces.
There were two Masons there who seemed to ap-
preciate the true character of the order to which
they belong. Their names are W. A. Stevens and
J. Ward Ellis. Both of them are in the habit of
looking down in the mouth.
Enough has been said, in this article, to show up
the true character of Masonry. Their orgies, at
Haas’s Park, among the trees, show their trees-on-
able nature. The number of nights among them
prove the darkness of their proceedings. Unless
every body wishes to be Morganized, they should be
suppressed.
¥ SAILS, coy ;
ESS er
a is yy JERS, SEALE ee
A DREAM, AND HOW IT WAS
FULFILLED.
maeewva|N the fall of 1862 I was suddenly called
“41 from home by pressing business. The
affair necessitated a journey of several
wee) hours by rail, and then the crossing of
some fifty miles of country on horseback. I calcu-
lated to reach the railroad terminus on the night of
the day upon which I left home. Procuring a horse,
I proposed to leave the terminus early the next morn-
ing, and to gain the end of my journey some time
during the earlier portion of the following night.
My business would consume two days, and I should
return in two more; and hence my absence would
be included within a week.
The place at which I was living was a large city
in one of the Southern States, and the few miles of
railroad were the beginning of a line which, when
completed, would cross the State. The point to
which the road was completed was a town of some —
three hundred inhabitants; and here resided a dis-
tant relative of my wife. I had been married only
a week when the necessity which called me across
the State made its appearance.
Very naturally, my wife objected to the journey ;
but, as it were imperative, — involving many con-
siderable interests, —I could not yield, however
ay
A Dream, etc. 239
gladly I would have done so, to her request. It
then occurred to her that she might accompany me
to the terminus of the road, and there, with her rela-
tive, await my return. My desire for her society,
and also to gratify her, overcame some objections
which suggested themselves when I thought that the
place at which she would have to stay was but poorly
supplied with comforts, or even ordinary conven-
iences. I hinted at the existence of these probable
discomforts ; but it was of no avail.
‘That may all be,” said she; ‘ but they will not
last long; and, besides, I think them a very cheap
price to pay for the pleasure of your society to T.
and return.”
Women, with the dew of girlhood yet fresh on
their lips, and sparkling in the sheen of their eyes,
possess irresistible argumentative powers, although,
mayhap, they have never heard of Whately.
Of course, I consented; and, at a little before dusk
that same day, we found ourselves dismounting from
the train at T. I found, without difficulty, the resi-
dence of my wife’s relative; and, in the course of
half an hour, we were under his roof.
The residence of my wife’s relative — whom I will
call Hermance — was situated about three-fourths of
a mile from the outskirts of the town. It was a
farm-house of the better class, and was surrounded
by the usual negro cabins and out-houses.
At that time, the war was in progress; and the
country about Hermance’s was liable to be visited
by roaming bands belonging to both sides. My
friend had never taken an active part in politics;
240 Army and Other Sketches.
and, being supposed to be quiet, conservative and
inoffensive, he had the good will of both the bellig-
erents, and, in consequence, was rarely disturbed by
either. The most that had hitherto happened to
him was the taking of a horse, or the slaughter of
some of his hogs; but even these depredations were
not authorized, and were committed against the
orders of, or were unknown to, responsible parties.
Just at that time, rumors reached the place that a
one-armed guerrilla, noted for his brutality and dis-
regard of all right, was, with a small force, ravaging
the country, some seventy miles distant. But he
had hitherto confined his operations to the lower
portion of the State, and it was not expected that he
would venture so far north as T. His performances
were, therefore, discussed simply as a portion of the
current news of the day, and not with any view to
his probable appearance in that neighborhood.
The unsettled state of the country disquieted me
somewhat; and I, therefore, urged upon my wife to
return to the city inthe morning train. She refused,
and was the more obstinate in her refusal for the
reason that Hermance and his family were emphatic
in pooh-poohing the idea that the slightest danger
was to be incurred by her remaining.
‘‘And then, only think,’ said my wife, ‘ of the
long journey to town, all alone. Besides, I want
some fresh air; and then, by staying here, I shall see
you ever so many hours sooner.”
There is no particular use of reasoning during the
honeymoon; logic is an after-growth; and, conse-
quently, I soon found myself under the necessity of
a
ye
A Dream, etc. 241
yielding. I gave a reluctant and foreboding consent ;
and the next morning, at daylight, upon one of Her-
mance’s unequaled horses, I was cantering up the
valley-road that led toward my destination.
It is not necessary to describe the details of my
ride, further than to say that the weather was superb
and bracing, the roads dry, hard, and excellent. Just
before sundown, I drew rein at a dilapidated “ hotel”
of a half-ruined country town named R
was the place to which my business called me. Two
or three times during the day, I met country people,
and, in our exchange of news, I had been told that
‘¢One-Armed Johnson,” as he was termed, was
moving northward. At each time that this rumor
was mentioned, it was accompanied with some
account of some fiendish atrocity said to have been
committed by this ferocious leader. It was said that
he had shot down this one in cold blood in the midst
of his family; and that, in another case, the wife
and daughter of some other had been given over to
, which
the brutal lusts of the gang, in the very presence of
husband and brothers.
These things did not have much effect upon me
until I had retired to my bed at night. During the
day, the swift rush of the air, and the constant acces-
sion of new subjects,—of trees draped in all the
variegated glories of autumn; of flocks of wild tur-
keys crossing the road before me; of an occasional
deer bounding away in the depths of some wood,—
all these had distracted my attention, and left me
little opportunity of pondering upon the information
I had received.
YI
242 Army and Other Sketches.
But, with this silence of night, my mind had full
- scope for the examination of the intelligence which
I had received. As report had it, Johnson was
marching directly towards T.; and, as he was only
some seventy miles distant three days before, it began
to seem to my excited imagination that, if he con-
tinued northward, he would, within a very short
time, reach the neighborhood in which I had left
my wife.
Disagreeable as were these reflections, I could
console myself only with the idea that I could not,
at the instant, do’ any thing to prevent what might
occur. Much troubled, but hoping for the best, I
finally, and, with many starts and wakings, fell into
a profound sleep.
How long I slept before my thoughts began to
take shape and form themselves in regular processes,
I can not remember. The most I can recall with
reference to this portion of the night is, that I fell
asleep after a long time; and then there ensued an
oblivion which surrounded me, as it were, by a great
waste of darkness.
When my recollection grasps what first occurred,
I seemed to be some where in the midst of a chaos,
of which I was the only living figure. I seemed
upon a vast plain, like that which would remain
were the sun blotted out, were vegetation to die, and
were all motion and life struck from existence. A
great darkness lay upon every thing, through which
I could peer for a short distance, but in which I could
only discover vast rocks, with precipitous sides and
innumerable points. Among these rocks there were
A Dream, etc. 243
no paths, no voices,—nothing but a silence, which
was awful in its extent.
How long I wandered here, I can not tell. I
seemed to have no definite aim; but it appeared as
if I sought something whose character I did not
know. This something was to be gotten only by
moving forward; and thus I continued to wander
for a length of time, which seemed to be that of a
lifetime. Jor all these years, I groped amidst this
darkness,—clambering over and around the ever-
lasting rocks,—and meeting always with only the
profound silence and the interminable gloom. My
companions were the unyielding rocks, the obscurity
and the silence. I would attempt to cry out at
times; but my voice seemed frozen. It was as
noiseless as a stream locked in the embraces of
winter.
After what seemed a century of wandering amidst
the solitude, the pointed rocks, and the darkness,
there came a period which possessed motion, but no
life. Truncated cones, with their smaller ends
touching the earth, and their bases high in air, and
inclined a little from the perpendicular, seemed to
revolve with enormous rapidity. Besides these, there
were immense globes, and they spun about their
centres with infinite swiftness. Both were the color
of burnished silver; both were stationary, save in
their revolutions about their own centres. Noise-
lessly, but with a dizzying swiftness, their bodies
revolved. There was still no life, — only these forms
and their revolutions. There was no seeming cause
for their motion. They spun like the balance-wheel
of a machine after the power has been removed.
244 Army and Other Sketches.
To the world of my dreams there were now
added light and motion. It needed yet life for its
completion.
In the new phase of my dream, to which there
had come light and motion, I appeared to have no
important part. JI moved among the whirling cones
and spheres as if they had been non-resistant. When
I ran against one of them, it seemed to enter my
form as if I had been simple air; and, while one
was thus against me, or partly within me, its motion
kept up continuously, and I experienced a peculiar
feeling, as if that portion of my form, or body,
within the reach of the whirling object, had become
a part of it, and as if it had partaken of the motion.
This light and this motion gave me no impression,
save a dim premonition that they indicated the swift
approach of some terrible catastrophe. .
Motion and light had been added to the original
chaos of my cream. Suddenly there came Lire.
A transition, so rapid that it left me no time to
note the details of how the one disappeared and the
other came, suddenly occurred. In an instant the
revolving cones and spheres gave place to a wooded
road winding down the valley of a shallow stream.
I recognized it as the road along which I had trav-
eled the morning previous. At the same instant
there came the resonant clatter of hoofs; and, a
moment after, a party of horsemen, on a swift gallop,
emerged from the forest, and moved in the direction
of the settlement I had left in the morning.
They were a rough, ferocious crowd. They were
dressed in almost every conceivable manner, from
a
A Dream, etc. 245
blue to gray, and including the rough homespun
dress of the farmer. All had guns lying across their
thighs at the pommels of their saddles. Some had
sabres, whose steel scabbards gave forth a metallic
rattle as they bounded from the flanks of the horses.
Nearly all had revolvers strapped to their waists ;
and a few carried enormous knives, not unlike rudely-
constructed swords.
At their head rode a man of vast stature and pro-
digious breadth of shoulders. His black hair hung
in long and tangled masses below the collar of his
gray coat. He wore a slouch hat with an immense
brim, which, turned up above his eyes, gave hima
singularly wild, reckless appearance. His beard
was of great luxuriance, and hung down till its ends
mingled with the tossing mane of his fiery horse.
His left arm had been taken off between the elbow
and the shoulder. With his right hand he managed
the motion of his horse, and seemed to guide it rather
by volition than the touch of the reins.
I seemed to recognize ‘**One-Armed Johnson,”
and his band of guerrillas.
‘It required but a second to notice all these details.
I had barely taken them in when the cavalcade
emerged from a gorge formed by the narrowing of
the valley. -At this point, the road crossed the
stream, and ran at right angles across the sloping
valley up to the height upon which was situated the
house of my friend Hermance.
Plunging into the stream, the party sent the water
flying in wild confusion, and then they cantered up
the slope. I appeared to be standing at the exact
246 Army and Other Sketches.
point where the valley suddenly widened out from
the gorge. The sloping ascent of the road, the
farm-house, in unsuspicious security, the party of
brigands, were all before me as if upon a map. I
divined their purpose; and I made the most frantic
efforts to advance in the direction of the house. I
could not move an inch. An invisible, but impene-
trable, wall seemed to bar my progress; and I dashed
myself against it vainly, but with frenzied despera-
tion. I essayed to call out; but my voice seemed to
reach only to my lips.
All the time I saw the party of horsemen advanc-
ing. When about half way up the slope they sud-
denly, at a word of command from their leader,
formed abreast, in two lines, on his right, facing
toward the house. A moment after, some dozen or
fifteen moved in advance of the rest. They deployed
like a line of skirmishers; and, while the centre
moved forward slowly, the right and left flanks
advanced rapidly, till the line resembled a long
crescent. ‘This line moved forward, and closed about
the building, entirely surrounding it; and, an instant
after, the leader and the main body, at a swift gallop,
dashed on the green in front of the house.
There was a moment’s parley; and then a long
puff of white smoke, with a thin body of flame,
poured from one of the windows, and, almost simul-
taneously, a riderless horse detached itself from the
struggling mass, and, with a snort of terror, galloped
up the road, and, with swinging stirrups, disap-
peared over the brow.
What followed passed with the rapidity of light-
nai
A Dream, etc. 247
ning. There were fierce flashes, puffs of smoke, the
thud of bullets, and the sound of breaking glass.
Then a blue smoke rolled up from the further side
of the house, which soon became darker, and was
mixed with great gushes of flame. I saw that the
house was fired. ‘The flames burst from a window,
then ran in spirals under the eaves, and then crawled,
like slender serpents, over the roof. A little later,
and the roof was a volcano, which seemed to vomit
flames, smoke, and cinders, which shot to an im-
mense height, and then fell outward, as if the whole
were a fountain bursting upward with irresistible
power.
Just before the flames enveloped the whole struct-
ure, | saw a female figure rush wildly to an upper
window, and then recoil as if appalled by the hell
of flames which roared around and beneath her. It
was my wife! I saw her turn away with a wild,
despairing look, and an imploring gesture; and then
the flame and smoke enshrouded the window, and I
saw her no more.
I made one more tremendous eftort to rush to her
assistance. The invisible barrier seemed to give
way before me, and I plunged madly forward; but,
at the very first bound, infinite depth suddenly
yawned beneath me, and I felt myself falling into
space—down,* down with terrible velocity, like a.
cannon-ball dropped from the clouds; and then, as
I seemed about to be crushed to fragments against
the bottom of the abyss, a strong, yielding medium
appeared to receive me, to break the force of my
descent; and then I awoke.
248 Army and Other Skotches.
Day was just dimly breaking. A few weak rays
of grayish light entered my room, and gave to its .
contents a ghastly visibility. The horrors of my
dream were fresh upon me; and, impelled by an
indefinable terror, I had but one thought—that of
reaching T. Dressing myself, I hurried forth to the
stable ; and, throwing a few ears of corn before my
horse, I waited with feverish impatience through
the age which was consumed by the animal in
eating. I could not eat; and I only waited till the
corn had disappeared to take my departure. With-
out disturbing any of the household, I led out my
horse, threw myself in the saddle, and spurred say-
agely on my return.
I devoured the space which separated me from T.
with a fevered body and a soul constantly racked by
the horrors of my dream. My mind’s eye saw con-
stantly the figure in the window, stretching appeal-
ingly its white arms for aid. My imagination fol-
lowed it within the shroud of fire and smoke, and
saw it rushing hither and thither, and at length fall-
ing, suffocated by the pitiless flames. I saw con-
stantly the shuddering, writhing form, and my ears
rang with its shrieks of anguish.
It was scarcely more than four hours—as I after-
ward learned—from the time that I started, that I
found myself entering the gorge at whose termina-
tion was visible the residence of Hermance. I recog-
nized the features of the stream, the banks, and the
narrowing valley, exactly as they appeared in my
dream the night before. In another moment I should
have before me the blackened ruins of the farm-
A Dream, etc. 249
house, and my soul reeled as I anticipated the first
view of the desolation, and the subsequent revela-
tions of its horrors. The road was filled with hoof-
marks, and the water still lay on the stones and sand
where it had been splashed by the passing animals.
The next instant, dashing across the stream, I
rounded the abutment of the gorge, and, with a
shudder of apprehension, turned my eyes to the rise
beyond me.
It was a beautiful September day. The air was
pure as crystal, save where delicate forms of smoke
drifted along or reclined upon the horizon. Beyond
a peach orchard lay the brown farm-house, and
around it clusters of negro cottages. From its chim-
ney there curled, peacefully and lazily, a light-blue
smoke. Some negro children and dogs gamboled
among the trees. Quiet, peace, beauty, reigned over
the scene.
There were no smoking ruins—no desolation.
The farm-house, with its patriarchal and sylvan sur-
roundings, slept as peacefully under the autumn sun-
light as if it had been located among the Isles of the
Blessed.
It would be tedious to relate the surprise. occa-
sioned by my appearance ; my explanations, and the
chagrin of my friend over the ruin of his blooded
saddle-horse. I will merely state, in this connection,
that there had been no alarm from any source since
my departure.
I have only to add that, two or three days later,
among some captures made during a cavalry expedi-
tion, was that of this same one-armed guerrilla and
1) os
250 Army and Other Sketches.
several of his companions. He was brought to the
city, and, inspired by curiosity, I resolved to see this
terrible bandit. I readily obtained admission to a
position where I could see him as he traversed the
corridor of the prison.
To my intense surprise, I found before me the
fac simile of my dream. There were the same
long, unkempt locks, falling over the collar of the
gray coat; the same enormous beard, stalwart form,
broad shoulders, and arm missing between elbow
and body.
I entered into conversation with him; and he was
garrulous and boastful in relating what he had done,
and what he had designed doing. Among other
things, he said:
‘¢T had a nice thing on hand a day or two before I
was picked up. I had heard that there was a pay-
master at T., and I intended to go for him. The
night before I intended to take the town, I was in
camp at R. Inthe morning, I found that a fellow
in the Government service, who had just come from
T., and who had staid all night at R., had left
before daylight and gone back to T. I suppose he
had found out some how that I was around, and
what I meant, and had gone back to head me off.
Any how, I thought I wouldn’t go that time.
‘“'You are acquainted at T., are you? Well, if
you know a man there by the name of Hermance,
just give him my compliments, and tell him, if I
ever get out of this, I want some of his horses. He’s
got some of the best stock this side of h—ll. And
tell him, too, that when I come after his horses, I'll
A Dream, etc. 251
just take his scalp, for I’ve heard that he’s been
playing double. I meant, when I went for the pay-
master at T., to give Hermance a call; but the thing
will keep, and [ll drop in on him some other time.”
GETTING A DRINK UNDER DIFFI-
CULTIES.
my A KE her up!”
Hid kya =“ ’m alone!”
SNE AIC “iRassan,
difcmamiaD “Yes, ‘Pass;’ that’s the word. Just
pass that pocket ordnance, will you?”
I was the last speaker. My v7s-a-vzs on the car-
seat laid down his ’lone hand— both bowers, queen,
and seven-spot—reached into the breast-pocket of
his overcoat, and hauled out a big-bellied pocket-
pistol. Unscrewing the metal cap, I inhaled the
delicious aroma of some $. O. P. After giving the
sense of smell an opportunity, as it were, to takea
drink, I applied one end of the flask to my mouth,
and slowly elevated the other.
A thin stream of the eiectric nectar had begun to
crawl lazily throatward over my tongue ; the thrilling
intelligence of a coming drink had just begun to be
telegraphed from the nerves of the mouth to other
portions of the system; stomach, brain, extremities,
were beginning to thrill with anticipated bliss over
the expected libation— when
I regret, even at this distant moment, to say that I
never took that drink.
Raising my eyes with somewhat of that instinctive
thankfulness which animates a chicken when it takes
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 253
a sip of cooling water, I happened to glance out the
car window.
‘Good heaven, Tom! There’s the old man
Marsh!”
The 8. O. P., that had begun to trip, like a nup-
tial march, across my tongue, was suddenly inter-
rupted. Down went flask, and, a second later, I
was occupying a seat on the other side of the car,
and was engaged in solemnly gazing out of the
window upon the waste of snow that stretched away
to the horizon.
This promising drink was not taken, this change
of seat was made, because I happened to see a port-
ly old gentleman, with a double chin, a cane, a
rheumatic limb on one side, and a not fashionable
stove-pipe hat, working along toward the car in
which we sat.
This was the old man Marsh who had spoiled my
drink.
Who was the old man Marsh?
Mr. John Marsh was a lumber-merchant who
lived not a thousand miles from Chicago. He was
well to do. Hehad a pinery in Wisconsin, rafts on
the Mississippi in summer, and lumber-yards all over
Iowa and Wisconsin, the year round. What was of
more importance to me, he had a daughter.
A young woman, with a fine form, a peachy
bloom on her cheeks, and eyes like black diamonds.
I had met this young lady, and her motto, hence-
forth, in my case, was: Venz, vidi, vice.
Just then out of college, and embarked in a lite-
rary career, I was somewhat given to look upon the
254 Army and Other Sketches.
wine when it was red, and the accomplishment of
tasting it. It seemed to agree with me.
Now, if Mr. John Marsh loved any thing next to
his daughter and a good lumber season, it was the
virtue of total abstinence. A young man who in-
dulged in the flowing bowl was to him a good deal
worse than a broken raft with no insurance, or any
other unmitigated evil.
I had just commenced publishing a daily news-
paper in Davenport, Iowa. On the morning of that
particular day there had come to me from Chicago
a harum-scarum youth, to his intimates known as
Tom Meeley. Tom was just from Cambridge, and
was reading law with a Chicago Blackstone. Tom
intermitted the study of law with practice at the bar.
He was a heavy practitioner for a young one.
Since then, he has gone into short-hand and extra
mural gardening, and he doesn’t do as much of the
bar practice as he did.
On that Christmas morning of December, 1856,
Tom had induced me to take a run over to Iowa
City. The Legislature was in session; things were
lively at the capital; and fun was reasonably to be
anticipated.
Taking along two flasks of liquid refreshments,
two other young men to make up a euchre party, and
a pack of cards, we took the morning train.
At the very first station after leaving Davenport,
had occurred what I have above alluded to.
I was very thirsty. I had not wet my lips that
morning; and I was preparing for what my friend
Mort. terms ‘‘an Enormous drink,’ when Mr. John
Marsh passed across my line of vision.
eee eee ee ae ee Oo
<4 ,
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 255
A minute or two later, the portly form of the old
gentleman filled two-thirds of the seat which I oc-
cupied.
He was glad to see me. Had been to see about
a lumber bill, at the place where he got on, and was
going to Iowa City, to see about some more lumber
bills.
I inquired respectfully about the health of his
amiable self. Then about that of his respected wife.
Then about the lumber business. Then about a
religious revival in his town. Finally about the fair
Harriet. The latter query elicited only a sententious
reply —‘‘ Oh! she’s well.”
Lin passant, there had come rumors to that good
old man’s ears that I was a trifle given to a habit
which all Good Templars look upon with religious
abhorrence. Therefore had he not been overwhelm-
ingly enthusiastic in such slight advances as I had
made in the direction of the gentle young Harriet.
Therefore did he a trifle abridge his reply when,
after inquiring after sixty-five other things, I ven-
tured to inquire after a certain old man’s daughter.
Meanwhile, my late companions were luxuriously
‘engaged. Tom, who knew my reasons for leaving
the party, had imposed non-intercourse upon the
others. They shuffled, cut, dealt, went it alone, told
riproarious stories, and shamelessly took drinks the
while.
Especially did they aggravate me—who was so
thirsty —by nodding at me when I looked, and when
my companion wasn’t looking, then reversing their
flask, and letting me hear the musical gushing of
256 Army and Other Sketches.
what was as much denied me as the cup to Tan-
talus.
‘“‘Isn’t it terrible that young men should act so?”
said my venerable companion, indicating, with a
jerk of his head, the party across the way. He
looked searchingly into my face for my reply.
“©