275
















Harvard College Library

MIAE
品​呂
​ACADE
OLSTIH
TS!
ILLVM
FROM THE
BRIGHT LEGACY.
One half the income from this Legacy, which was
received in 1880 under the will of
JONATHAN BROWN BRIGHT
of Waltham, Massachusetts, is to be expended for
books for the College Library. The other half of the
income is devoted to scholarships in Harvard Uni.
versity for the benefit of descendants of
HENRY BRIGHT, JR.,
who died at Watertown, Massachusetts, in 1686. In
the absence of such descendants, other persons are
eligible to the scholarships. The will requires that
this announcement shall be made in every book added
to the Library under its provisions.





111
!
Why
til
שתכתוואי
VINDT
“There dashed suddenly past us, in the rear of the blazing fire,
a white horse bearing a gigantic female form with
flowing garments and long white hair."


JOHN'S ALIVE;
OR,
THE BRIDE OF A GHOST,
AND
OTHER SKETCHES.
By
MAJOR JONES, OF PINEVILLE, GA.,
MAJOR JONES'S COURTSHIP," MAJOR JONES'S
TRAVELS," ETC., ETC.
AUTHOR OP
TEN ORIGINAL FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS,
BY H. T. CARISS.
PHILADELPHIA:
DAVID MCKAY,
No. 23 SOUTH NINTH STREET.
1883


AL 3637.7.15
COPYRIGHT, 1883, BY DAVID MCKAY.
MARVARD
COLLEGE
LBP


PREFACE.
THE sketches of which this book is composed, were
written by the late Colonel William T. Thompson, whose
reputation as the author of the inimitable and popular
Major Jones's Courtship is national.
They are based upon incidents of his personal expe-
rience, and were prepared by him to pass away a few
leisure hours,
After his death, these sketches were carefully sought for,
and collected as a labor of love, by his daughter, Mrs. M.
A. Wade, who conceived the idea of publishing them in
their present shape.
The sketches, while written in a humorous vein, are not
in the rustic Georgia dialect, and the style is somewhat
different from that adopted in the work that made the
name of “Major Jones” famous; nevertheless his friends
will have no difficulty in recognizing in them the crea-
tions of the same genius.
With the hope and confidence that the sketches will
meet with a kind and pleasurable reception from the
publid at large on their literary merit, it is believed that
(v)


vi
PREFACR.
many will find an additional interest in the historical inci-
dents related of the Florida campaign against the Seminole
Indians, in which the author was a participant. The pa-
thetic background of truth, but half hidden behind the
humorous fancies of the writer, will add much to their
value in the eyes of those who would find instruction
even in their hours of recreation.


CONTENTS.
JOHN'S ALIVE, OR THE BRIDE OF A GHOST; BEING A
TRUE HISTORY OF TRUE LOVE.
PAGE
CHAPTER I.—John commences his narrative-Declines giving the
usual pedigree, but sets off at once with his story-Offers a
plea in extenuation of his prevailing faults-A brief allusion
to his youth-A description of his first and only love-Elysian
days-Rivalry-Coquetry-Jealousy-Lovers' quarrels—The
party-Mr. Thaw's Daguerreotype - The caricature-Hitting
a profile-The ladies' man- Blighted hopes-Despondency, . 17
—
CHAPTER II.-John's malady increases until it becomes a settled
melancholy-Lackadaisical philosophy-Revenge meditated
-Thoughts of suicide-Funeral procession-The graveyard-
A plan conceived—The farewell letter-Graveyard at mid-
night—The doctors surprised— The interview-Bribery—The
resurrection–The Dutchman and the corpse-Drowning by
proxy,
34
CHAPTER III.—John's compunctions of conscience-The announce-
ment in the papers-Wavers in his purpose-conflicting emo-
tions-Attends his own funeral --Makes many interesting ob-
servations there-Determines to leave Philadelphia–His de-
parture for New York-Doleful reflections—Sails for New
Orleans-Sea-sickness—The dandy-The lieutenant's remedy
-John's preventive_Happy effects of the voyage, .
45
.
(vii)


CONTENTS.
PAGE
:
59
.
68
CHAPTER IV.-John tries merchandising in New Orleans-Soon
relapses into his former despondency-Seeks to “ drown it in
the bowl”-Gets into a fight on the levee—is lodged in the
Calaboose-With difficulty obtains his release Fortunes at a
low ebb-Sans money, sans friends, saps everything—Enlists
in the army of General Gaines—Sails for Florida—Improved
state of feeling, the effect of hard marching-Human nature
with the bark off-Camp courtesy-Dade's battle-ground-
John's partiality for the General expressed,
CHAPTER V.—The Withlacoochee The first fight-John's peculiar
sensations on that occasion—The second encounter-Attack in
the breastworks—The music of a rifle-ball an exception to the
rule-Seminole dentistry-Battle at night-John is.wounded
Short rations and hard fighting-Desperate onset—The armis-
tice-The council-A dainty morsel—The surprise—The re-
lief-Return to Camp Smith,
CHAPTER VI.-John becomes weary of camp life--Expedient for
relieving its monotony--The bunting party–Florida scenery
-A mimic Eden-The rural lounge-Thoughts of pastoral
life-Influence of association-Mankind an element- Pastoral
recreation—The attack-The escape-Night in the swamp-
Search for the camp—The surprise-Thé chase-John becomes
amphibious,
CHAPTER VII.—John emerges from his concealment-Fever-De-
lirium - Insensibility - Recovery --Despondency--Reviving
Influence of the brightening dawn-Morning repast“A new
feeling-His wanderings-Second night in the wilderness-
Dreams-The evening gun-Arrival at the St. Johns-Joyful
emotions on first reaching the army-Surgical operation-Rule
for estimating degrees of pain-Recovery-Reflections upon
the past — Reformation resolved upon - Return to Philadel-
phia,.
. 76
89


CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER VIII.—John determines to reconnoitre before making
himself known-Ascertains that his family are all still living
- Visits Mary's residence- Discovers his old rival in the act
of pressing his suit—The ghost acts an important part-Mr.
Thaw's encounter with the ghost-His discomfiture,
100
- CHAPTER IX.-John begins to apprehend that he is carrying the
joke too far-Seeks an interview with an old friend—With dif-
ficulty establishes his own identity, and engages him to prepare
his family for his reception—The meeting-Convinces Mary
that he is no ghost-Discovers a new relative—The wedding-
day appointed-Two grooms to one bride-The wedding-The
ghost again—The astonished parson—The explanation–The
Consummation-The end,
113
1
.
GOING ASHORE,.
125
-
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
NUMBER ONE.—The Alarm,
. 139
NUMBER TWO.-Return from the prairie-Moonlight scene-Burial
of the dead,
148
NUMBER THREE.-Picket guard—Stormy night-Soug quarters
Patrick Fagan and the Georgia Stag,
159
NUMBER FOUR.-Fort Drane-Night in camp-Patrick Fagan
and Phelim O'Brien-Johnny Hogan and the ghost,
. 175
NUMBER FIVE.—The General's horse,
. 187
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SUGAR CAMPS OF THE
MAHONING VALLEY,
197
.
.
THE BURGLARS OF IOLA; A FRONTIER SKETCH.
CHAPTER I.,
219
CHAPTER II.,
233
CHAPTER III.,
242
CHAPTER IV., .
254
.
.
.
.





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
C
"There dashed suddenly past us, in the rear of the blazing fire,
a white horse bearing a gigantic female form with flowing
garments and long white hair,"
Frontispiece.
"
“I'll try my hand at your profile,"
30
“ Ain't this ship turning around, mister?”
54
"I grasped him by the ankles and ... tossed him into the street," 108
“John's alive! I exclaimed, as the door flew open,”
121
.
“A faint 'Oh Lordy!' from Mr. Hill was succeeded by a cry of
'man overboard,'”
133
“A form, whose snowy whiteness was even discernible in the
darkness of the night, came crawling out at the open end of
the barrel,”
165
.
>
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Fagan,"
170
“Sthop, gintlemen, its all gone; divil the drop's left in the world," 179
“Good morning, to your night-cap,"
252
(i)





JOHN'S ALIVE
OR
THE BRIDE OF A GHOST:
BEING
A TRUE HISTORY OF TRUE LOVE.
CHAPTER I.
John commences his narrative- Declines giving the usual pedigree,
but sets off at once with his story-Offers a plea in extenuation of
his prevailing faults—A brief allusion to his youth-A description
of his first and only love-Elysian days–Rivalry-Coquetry-
Jealousy-Lovers' quarrels—The party-Mr. Thaw's Daguerreo-
type-The caricature-Hitting a profile-The lady's man-Blighted
hopes—Despondency.
I KNOW that it is customary, in writing one's own nar-
rative, for the author to set out with what might be called
a complete pedigree of himself; or, in other words, to put
his readers to sleep over a detailed and circumstantial ac-
count of his life, birth, parentage, etc. But as I write
neither for honor nor profit, but am prompted solely by the
desire of doing good to others, by exhibiting to the world
the consequences resulting from the unrestricted indulgence
2
(17)


18
MAJOR JONES.
of a rash, impetuous temper, I shall dispense with a formality
which I conceive would add nothing to the character or
interest of the following veritable history, and leaving my
venerable ancestors to repose in the peaceful oblivion to
which mortality has long since consigned them, shall pro-
ceed to cultivate an acquaintance with the reader on my
own account.
I do not deserve, nor do I expect, gentle reader, to escape
your censure.
I know that your good sense will often be
shocked at my rashness and folly; and I take this early
opportunity of putting in, as a plea in extenuation of my
greatest foiblemy stubborn waywardness of disposition-
the fact that I was the only son of fond and far too indul-
gent parents, and that the sad experience and extraordinary
vicissitudes through which I have passed, were probably as
necessary to teach me that degree of humility which should
temper the disposition of every rational being, as is the
training and chastening which others receive in early life,
from their more discreet and well-judging guardians.
Though you will doubtless feel constrained to condemn the
spirit which prompted many of my acts and the judgment
which dictated others, I trust that you will concede in the
end that I have received my full deserts.
Before proceeding with my narrative, it will be necessary
to premise that I was born in Philadelphia, as that city of
Brotherly Love,” as it is often miscalled, is to be the
theatre of much of my eventful history. With the reader's


JOHN'S ALIVE.
19
a
permission and I take it for granted—I will skip over a
period of about sixteen years, during which time, as a mat-
ter of course, I passed through the various vicissitudes of
babyhood, childhood, and boyhood, and leaving the recol-
lections of that happy period of my existence where they
are, enshrined in the inmost recesses of my heart, amid the
brightest memories of the past, I will take up the thread of
my hapless story at that period of my life, when the bitter'
waters of experience first became mingled in my sparkling
cup of dreamy hopes.
I had reached my seventeenth year, and not a single in-
cident had occurred to cast a shadow upon the bright sun-
shine of my existence. At that period the future was, as it
ever is with youth, all bright and glowing-in the past there
was nothing to regret, and the present was but the ecstasy
of unalloyed enjoyment. But, ah! how little does he know
of the wild tempest and rugged waves he is doomed to en-
counter in his voyage upon life's ocean, who turns his tiny
sail upon the glassy tide, and watches the gentle ripple of
the placid river playing in the sunbeam.
As I have said, I was in my seventeenth year, when I
-
fell in love! Start not, gentle reader—for though love was
the rock upon which I split, the catastrophe is more to be
attributed to my own unskilful navigation, than to the dan-
gers of the ocean upon which my barque was launched. It
is an old saying that “ the course of true love never did run
smooth.” Mine was a case in point, and I will leave it to
2


20
MAJOR JONES.
We had grown
the reader's candor to say whether the progress of my affair
does not abundantly verify the adage.
My Mary was an object to love. In person she was the
very embodiment of youthful perfection—in mind all I
could wish-and in disposition, so kind, so confiding, so
amiable !-to know her was to love her.
up together-our families had long been intimate, and as
she had no brother, I bad, when we were children, filled
the place of one in her regard, and now that we were older,
that feeling had strengthened to a still more tender senti-
ment, and that sentiment was mutual. She became my
idol—the theme of my constant thought. Her society was
my only enjoyment-1 sought no other, and was only com-
pletely happy when in her presence, or when, in her absence,
I cherished the fond belief that she felt towards me the
same devoted, jealous attachment. Mary was but just en-
tering her fifteenth year. She had not as yet made her
entrée into society, and of course bad not yet inhaled the
pestilential atmosphere of fashion. She knew not yet what
it was to be admired—to be flattered, and her ingenuous
heart had never counted the power of her superior charms,
nor throbbed to the emotion of female vanity.
Such was the gentle creature to whom I had plighted
my faith, and from whom I had received a vow in return
to be none other's but mine. Is it to be wondered that I
loved her ardently? We were young, but we looked
forward with bright anticipation to the period when our


JOAN'S ALIVE.
21
union was to be consummated; and when, arm-in-arm we
!
sauntered through Washington Square, or strolled by the
banks of the Schuylkill, beneath the bright moonlight, we
spoke of the future with the same frankness with which we
had plighted our mutual loves.
A
year of such Elysian days passed speedily off; but we
were now no longer children. We had made our debut, and
as we yielded to the requirements of fashionable life, in our
deportment before the world, I did not fail to notice a ma-
terial change in the character of my Mary. She seemed to
receive my marked attentions, especially when in company
with others of her sex, with an air of triumph, and to de-
light, whenever opportunity presented, in awakening my
suspicion of her want of fidelity and attachment. Such
was my jealous nature that I not unfrequently manifested
my displeasure on such occasions. Indeed I was too selfish
in my passion to allow her that freedom of action which
her own good sense informed her she had a right to enjoy,
and which prudence and common delicacy dictated that she
should exercise. Frequently were my feelings wrought
upon, when in truth there was but slight cause; and as
often what are called “lovers' quarrels” ensued between
us, which, of course, as all such quarrels do, ended in re
newed protestations of immutable attachment from both.
“ John,” said she one evening, as we were returning from
a music party, which we had attended at Fairmount,
“what makes you so serious ?” .


22
MAJOR JONES.
"
"Oh, nothing," I replied, with a suppressed sigh, as if I
thought more than I felt disposed to say.
“Ah, John, you are too jealous,” said Mary, with an
ominous shake of her pretty head.
“ Jealous !-oh, no, I'm not jealous; I'm the last man to
be jealous. What makes you think so ?”
Why, you seemed so melancholy all the evening, after
I sung that duet with Mr. Thaw."
“P'shaw! you only thought so; that was nothing to be
melancholy about.”
“Yes, you did—the girls all said so; and you don't
know how they plagued me about it. They said you looked
like
you
could eat him up.”
“Well, I don't like that Thaw; he's so impudent and
such a consummate dandy.”
“He sings beautifully though; doesn't he ?”
“He sings like a strolling player," I remarked, with
affected indifference.
“And then he's so graceful!"
“He has some mountebank flourishes,” replied I, with
difficulty concealing my agitation.
“Well, he's pretty.”
That was enough! I could have strangled him had he
been before me at that moment. It was not the first time
he had aroused my jealousy, and he had rendered himself
peculiarly annoying to me during the past evening. Then,
to hear such compliments lavished upon him by her, was


JOHN'S ALIVE.
23
>
more than I could bear. We walked some distance be-
fore I could sufficiently subdue my feelings to utter a
reply. Then, in a voice that betrayed my agitation, I
remarked
Perhaps, Miss Mary, new faces appear to better ad-
vantage than those that have grown familiar. It may do
for faces, but I would advise you to adopt a different rule
when you come to make a choice of hearts.'
“ Miss Mary!” she exclaimed, and casting her large
blue eyes to my face, with an arch smile. You are not
jealous, then-ah, no, you're the last man to be jealous !
Now, what did I tell you, John? You are jealous, and
of Mr. Thaw, whom I never saw before this evening."
Then, assuming a soft and more serious tone, she continued,
“John, do you think_"
,
“I didn't think you were in earnest, I interrupted,"
, I
my
respiration coming freer, and my heart leaping with glad
emotions as I pressed the little hand that had somehow
or other become locked in mine.
"Ah, John, you were jealous, and you ought to be"
“I'm convinced, my dear Mary, and—”
“You ought to be ashamed, I mean. Why, the green-
eyed monster will eat you up before we're married, if there
is any truth in Shakespeare.”
I confessed the truth, but plead my love for her in ex-
tenuation of my fault, and promised never to be jealous
again. 'But,” I continued, "you must promise me that
>


24
MAJOR JONES.
you will give no more encouragement to Thaw. He
knows I despise him, and seeks to annoy me by thrusting
himself in your society."
“I must treat him with politeness, you know, so long as
he is respectful to me. But as to any farther considera-
.
tion from me, he has as little to hope as you have to
fear."
Thus ended one of our many quarrels. We were soon
at her father's residence, a neat little cottage near the upper
end of Arch Street, and, as it was late, I parted with her at
the door, and directed my steps homeward, with a light
heart, since I no longer regarded beau Thaw as a rival in
the affections of the angelic being I had just left.
But I was not long to enjoy the delightful calm to my
fears, which succeeded. The truth is, I had by my own in-
discretion contributed to spoil one of the sweetest tempers
that ever was perverted and ruined by admiration and
flattery, and I now began to suffer the consequences of my
folly. Mary did derive a secret pleasure from teasing me.
Like most of her sex who possess any claim to personal
beauty, she was not entirely destitute of vanity, and like
far too many, could not resist the temptation to gratify
that vanity, by testing the power of those charms, even at
the cost of the severest inflictions upon my feelings. Many
were the little coquetries and mischievous flirtations in
order to exhibit the abject vassalage in which she held my


JOAN'S ALIVE.
25
a
affections;
and
many
and severe were the tests to which
her arts had subjected me.
One evening, not long after our Fairmount excursion, I
accompanied Mary to the house of an acquaintance, where
a large number of young ladies and gentlemen were assem-
bled. On entering the parlor, I was not a little annoyed
at hearing the squeaking voice of Mr. Thaw, who was
striding about the room, bowing and scraping, grinning
and chattering, as if he desired to monopolize the attention
of all the ladies present. But I was still more vexed soon
after, by his incessant attentions to Mary, who, I thought,
considering what had passed between us in relation to that
gentleman, was entirely too affable in her encouragement
of those attentions. It was not a dancing party, but one
of those social evening assemblies at which young people
generally engage in unmeaning plays and romps, fit only
for children, or pass the time in exchanging "small talk,"
for neither of which amusements I had much relish, but,
with a view of making myself as agreeable as possible, I
adopted the latter as the choice of two evils. I, however,
soon found it impossible to entertain even Mary, while
Mr. Thaw was the master of ceremonies.
fectly au fait in all the little games usually performed on
such occasions, and introduced many new fooleries, much
to the gratification of the company. And then he was
such a ready poet, and could say,
.
He was per-


26
MAJOR JONES.
“Well, here I be,
Under this tree,
Miss Mary C.,
Come and kiss me,”
a
in a style so unique, and always had something so pithy
to whisper in the ladies' ears, and made such rare compari-
sons, that he soon became the “ observed of all observers,"
totally eclipsing every other gallant in the room. Mary
readily comprehended the expression of my countenance.
A single look of reproach from me, and a few of her new
admirer's prettiest compliments sufficed to excite her vanity;
and, encouraged by Mr. Thaw, she had in the course of the
evening wrought me up to such a pitch of jealousy that it
was with difficulty I could restrain my emotion in the
presence of the company. .
As it grew late, and after all the usual amusements had
been exhausted, the company became seated around the
room. Conversation was flagging, when Mr. Thaw, in the
exuberance of his inventive genius, struck upon a novel
plan of entertaining the company for an hour longer.
“ Ladies," said he, perhaps you have not hearil of the
new science recently invented, called the Daguerreotype.
I can assure you that it is a very wonderful art, by which
enabled to portray the human face divine (here he
· hemmed once) with the most marvellous accuracy. I shall
be very happy to explain the principle by taking copies of
some of the beautiful faces, the brilliancy of whose charms


JOHN'S ALIVE.
27
>
illuminate this room.” After which speech, he cast a con-
ceited look around the room, as much as to say, “ that's
me.”
“Oh, you do flatter the ladies so much, Mr. Thaw," re-
marked the ugliest girl in the room.
Mr. Thaw bowed and smiled, and brought his hand to
his lips, then placed it upon his heart and bowed again.
“The truth is no flattery, Miss Julia," said he.
Miss Julia primped her mouth and smiled back at Mr.
Thaw.
“Light and shade are the principles of the science,” con-
tinued Mr. Thaw, with the air of a modern lecturer," and
though it has not yet been brought to perfection, enough
is known to establish the great utility of the art. I will
illustrate it to you, ladies, if you please.”
Mr. Thaw then took a sheet of white paper from the
table and tacking it to the papered wall, requested one of the
ladies to sit for her profile, the outline of which he traced
with a crayon-pencil as it was reflected upon the paper.
Thus Mr. Thaw went on illustrating the Daguerreotype,
accompanying his performances with a torrent of silly gab,
at which the ladies laughed exceedingly, until nearly all the
company had been supplied with their profiles. He was quite
skilful with the pencil, and though he occasionally amused
himself by slightly caricaturing some of the gentlemen,
most of his profiles were well drawn.
At length I was pressed in my turn to sit for my profile,


28
MAJOR JONES.
.
a
and as none had refused I could not well decline. The
light was placed in its proper position, and Mr. Thaw com-
menced to adjust my head in a suitable attitude.
“Hold up your head, if you please, Mr. Smith,” said he,
in a very polite tone; "turn your face a little more to the
left-a le-e-tle more, if you please—there, that will do,
now shut your mouth, if you please, Mr. Smith,—that's it,
now hold steady, Mr. Smith.”
All was quite still, and I could hear the scratching of
the pencil upon the paper. Presently I heard a suppressed
laugh, which seemed to pervade the whole company.
Don't move, if you please, Mr. Smith, or you'll spoil
it,” said Mr. Thaw.
My position was such that I could not see him without
moving my head. Mary was sitting directly before me,
and I observed her face became flushed as the laughing in-
creased. I thought she looked excited. In a few moments
Mr. Thaw announced that it was done.
“ Ladies and gentlemen,"continued he, “what do you
think of the likeness ?”
I turned, and beheld him pointing to the picture of an
ass's head, with ponderous ears, and mouth distended, as
if in the act of braying. The blood rushed to my tem-
ples, but the whole company were convulsed with laughter,
and with a second thought I endeavored to laugh too,
though it was decidedly an up-bill business. My ears burned,
and I thought my laugh sounded more like a bray-it cer-
a





We
场
​(30)
“I'll try my hand at your profile.”


JOHN'S ALISE.
31
a
+
tainly did not come from the fountain of mirth; but I
might have forced it for a time perhaps, had not the trium-
phant artist, in the vebemence of his exultation, carried the
joke a little too far. Observing Mary, who was laughing
with the rest, he remarked, holding up the drawing to
view:
“I must have your opinion, Miss Mary ; don't you think
I've hit the gentleman's features ?”
“Oh, of course, I think it a capital likeness,” exclaimed
Mary, turning toward me with a searching look.
Thaw chuckled at her reply, with a meaning grin which
I well comprehended. This was too much-my blood
hissed in my veins. Choking with rage, I exclaimed:-
“ Tu try my hand at your profile," and with a blow full in
the face, I sent the gentleman sprawling among the chairs
I
and tables.
There was a sudden rush, and a loud scream from the
ladies. The aspect of affairs was changed in an instant.
“Why, John!"exclaimed Mary, grasping me by the arm,
after the first panic had somewhat subsided, “why, John,
I'm astonished at you!”
I already regretted what I had done, but it was too late.
I had disfigured Mr. Thaw's profile, and my rage had
changed to chagrin. I grasped my hat, while Mr. Thaw,
with his handkerchief to his bleeding nose, was muttering
something about “d—d ungenteel in the presence of ladies,
pistols at ten paces,” etc., to which I made no reply, but
2


(30)
(
“I'll try my band at your profile.”


JOHN'S ALICE.
31
tainly did not come from the fountain of mirth; but I
;
might have forced it for a time perhaps, had not the trium-
phant artist, in the vehemence of his exultation, carried the
joke a little too far. Observing Mary, who was laughing
with the rest, he remarked, holding up the drawing to
view:
“I must have your opinion, Miss Mary ; don't you think
I've hit the gentleman's features ?”
“Oh, of course, I think it a capital likeness,” exclaimed
Mary, turning toward me with a searching look.
Thaw chuckled at her reply, with a meaning grin which
I well comprehended. This was too much—my blood
hissed in my veins. Choking with rage, I exclaimed:
“ PU try my hand at your profile,” and with a blow full in.
the face, I sent the gentleman sprawling among the chairs
and tables.
There was a sudden rush, and a loud scream from the
ladies. The aspect of affairs was changed in an instant.
“Why, John!"exclaimed Mary, grasping me by the arm,
after the first panic had somewhat subsided," why, John,
I'm astonished at you!”
I already regretted what I had done, but it was too late.
I had disfigured Mr. Thaw's profile, and my rage had
changed to chagrin. I grasped my hat, while Mr. Thaw,
with his handkerchief to his bleeding nose, was muttering
something about “d-d ungenteel in the presence of ladies,
pistols at ten paces,” etc., to which I made no reply, but
a


32
MAJOR JONES.
passed to the door, amidst the confusion I had occasioned.
The ladies were throwing on their shawls and bonnets.
Mary followed me to the door. I turned from her.
“John," she asked, in an earnest tone of voice, "are you
going?”
“Yes," I replied doggedly.
"John!" repeated Mary, with something of supplication
in her tone.
“Never mind, Miss Mary," I replied, "you nor Mr.
Thaw shall ever make a laughing-stock of me again.”
And with this sullen speech I walked off, leaving her to
get home as best she might.
Through the interposition of my sisters, who were Mary's
most intimate friends, I had an interview with her on the
following evening, but I was in no mood to effect a recon-
ciliation with her upon equitable terms. I upbraided her
with her want of fidelity, which I considered was abundantly
evinced by her partiality for Mr. Thaw, and calling to my
aid all the firmness of my stubborn nature, I assured her
that I was determined no longer to be the dupe of a heart-
less coquette.
At first the ingenuous girl endeavored to explain her
conduct on the previous evening, denying any agency in Mr.
Thaw's attempt to throw me into ridicule, and expressing
her disapprobation of that gentleman's general deportment;
but finding that I was disposed to attach an importance to
her acts which she conceived they did not merit, and that


JOHN'S ALIVE.
33
in my pique I required her to make acknowledgments too
bumiliating for her to concede, her spirit became aroused,
and I suddenly beheld my once gentle, simple-hearted
Mary transformed into the proud and indignant belle.
I soon discovered that my selfish jealousy together with
my impetuous temper had urged me to an unjustifiable ex-
tremity, and the consciousness that I deserved to lose the
esteem of her I loved added its poignancy to my feelings.
To increase my mortification, my evil genius Thaw, so soon
as he had recovered from his black eye, renewed his officious
attentions to Mary, and seemed to derive satisfaction for
the injury I had done him, by exulting in the ruin he had
wrought to my peace and happiness. Mr. Thaw was pre-
cisely what is meant by the term “a ladies' man."
a I will
not attempt a particular description of him, for who has
not seen a ladies' man? The genus is confined to no particu-
lar meridian, and their distinguishing characteristics are too
well known as the opposites of everything manly and noble,
to need a description. Though by no means good-looking,
he possessed all the requisite qualifications of an accom-
plished dandy, and having mingled much in female society,
and studied well the art of pleasing the young and giddy of
the sex, it is not to be wondered that I regarded his atten-
tions to Mary with a suspicious eye; or that she found it
difficult to repulse them, even though she held his charac-
ter in contempt. Now that I was no longer her gallant,
and we had absolved each other from our early vows, and
3


34
MAJOR JONES.
a
exchanged rings and tokens, he became the ready instru-
ment of her wounded pride, which prompted her to receive
his addresses with much apparent satisfaction, when indeed
she detested him from the bottom of her heart. For a time
I affected the utmost indifference at the success of my rival;
but a canker was gnawing at my heart which soon un-
manned me of my strength, and I could no longer disguise
the intensity of my suffering. I felt indeed the truth of
Bulwer's beautiful lines:
“There is no anguish like the hour,
Whatever else befall us,
When one the heart has raised to power
Asserts it but to gall us.”
CHAPTER II.
John's malady increases until it becomes a settled melancholy-Lacka-
daisical philosophy-Revenge meditated—Thoughts of suicide-
Funeral procession-The graveyard - A plan conceived-The fare-
well letter-Graveyard at midnight—The doctors surprised–The
interview-Bribery–The resurrection—The Dutchman and the
corpse-Drowning by proxy.
In vain did mutual friends seek to effect a reconciliation.
If I was obdurate and sullen, Mary was not less proud and
unyielding; and time only settled deeper and deeper the


JOAN'S ALIVE.
35
sad melancholy to which I had become utterly abandoned.
No exertion of my own, nor the playful railleries or friendly
sympathies of my intimates could dispel the gloomy de-
spondency of my thoughts. Constitutionally of a sombre
cast of mind, my meditations tended greatly to increase my
mental malady, until my family began to entertain fears for
my recovery. Already had my health begun to fail, and
it was seriously contemplated to submit me to medical treat-
ment. But I did not desire convalescence. I began to
enjoy a secret satisfaction in the thought that, let what might
be the consequence, the worse the calamity, the more com-
plete would be my revenge upon the treacherous fair one
who had caused
my
distress.
I agree with you, reader, that I was very silly for enter-
taining such a thought or for allowing myself to become such
a very Lackaday. But as that prince of lovers very gravely
observes, “Human natur's human natur, Mr. Curtis;"
and such was my natur—the peculiar bent of my disposi-
tion. If, like him or me, you were ever“ balked in your
perspiring passion,” you will be the better able to appre-
ciate my feelings, and the more disposed to view my weak-
ness with charity.
One gloomy afternoon I rose from my seat before the
grate,—from which I had poked the last blackening coal,
as I sat meditating upon the various modes of suicide,
and, pressing my hat nearly over my eyes, walked out into
the street, and with my hands in my pockets, and my chin


36
MAJOR JONES.
• upon my breast, sauntered on, I cared not whither. What
a glorious revenge it would be, thought I, as I pursued my
ramble, to drown myself, and then haunt the cruel girl that
had caused me such pain. But could ghosts return to this
world? That was an important question. And then I
wondered how it would feel to jump into the river at that
season of the year. This problem was more readily solved
by means of an illustration, for the next moment I stepped
plash into the gutter, which was running ankle-deep with
cold water! There was an end of my project of drowning,
unless it might be done by proxy, which, after a little re-
flection, I discovered was by no means impracticable; and,
as I only wished to indulge my revenge, such an expedient
would answer my purpose infinitely better than if I were
to put an end to my life in reality. I had only to deposit
a portion of my clothing upon the wharf, to write a letter to
Mary, declaring my intention, and to absent myself from
the city, in order to establish my death, and then, should
she relent, I would be alive to enjoy my triumph. My
mind was made up to the deed, and my thoughts were
busied in arranging the preliminaries, when I was startled
from my reverie by coming in contact with a lengthy
funeral procession. I was just in the vein to attend a fu-
neral, and as it passed, I fell into the train, without knowing
whose mortal remains I was following to their long home.
As we proceeded to Ronaldson's beautiful burying-
ground, I learned that the deceased was a young man of
a


JOAN'S ALIVE.
37.
a
>
my acquaintance, who had died rather suddenly on the
day previous. He was about my own age, and what was
a little singular, we resembled each other so exactly in ap-
pearance, that those who were best acquainted with us could
scarcely tell one from the other. He had lived in a differ-
ent part of the city, and we were only slightly acquainted,
but the circumstance of our near resemblance excited my
sympathy for his death, and I was perhaps not the least
sincere among the numerous train of mourners who at-
tended him to the grave. After the solemn ceremony of
depositing the body in the family vault was concluded,
I lingered by the place so well suited to the gloomy tenor
of my thoughts, and did not observe the departure of the
procession. It was long after the sexton had closed the
gates, and not until the marble monuments began to throw
their lengthened shadows upon the cold ground, that I dis-
covered that I was alone in that solemn place. Suddenly
arousing from my gloomy reverie I followed round the
wall in search of a place by which to escape until I arrived
at the northeast corner, where I discovered a board placed
against the wall, by means of which I was enabled to gain
the street. That board, which had doubtless been placed
there by some resurrectionist, suggested an idea which
capped the climax of the scheme upon which I had been
meditating when my attention was attracted by the funeral,
and I resolved at once to put my plan in execution that
very night.
a


38
MAJOR JONES.
Accordingly I returned home, and going to my solitary
room, wrote a long letter to Mary, in which, after recur-
ring in a very feeling manner to the many happy hours I
had spent in her society, when I had indulged the fond
hope that my love for her was not unrequited, I poured
I
forth the agony of my present feelings in a strain of elo-
quence which only the bitterness of my deep despair could
prompt. Then invoking the choicest blessings upon her,
I freely forgave her past conduct towards me, bade her an
. affectionate adieu, and concluded with the assurance that,
ere she broke the seal of my farewell letter, the hand that
inscribed it, and the heart that dictated it, would lie cold
beneath the flood.
Leaving this precious production upon my table, duly
addressed to “Miss Mary Carson, Arch Street," I muffled
myself in my cloak and sallied forth, unobserved by
any member of the family, who, perhaps, owing to my
strange deportment, had for some weeks past endeavored
to keep a close watch upon my movements. I directed
my steps to the old Drawbridge, where I purchased a
suit of sailor's clothes, in which disguise I then proceeded
to the graveyard. I had provided myself with every-
thing which I thought would be necessary for my expedi-
tion, such as a dark-lantern, a crowbar, a pair of pistols,
and the suit of my own clothes which I had just taken off.
The State-house clock struck twelve, as I approached
the solemn city of the dead. At any other time my heart


JOHN'S ALIVE.
39
would have failed me in such a place and upon such an
errand. But now I was insensible to every rational feel-
ing. The romance of my nature was aroused by the bold
and reckless enterprise in which I was embarked, and no
consideration could sway me from its accomplishment. It
was a cold, drizzling night, and so dark that I could
scarce see the nearest objects, as I groped my way amid
the solitary tombs, in the direction of the vault.
As I approached near to the dreary charnel-house,
whose low white marble walls were but just discernible in
the midnight gloom, my blood curdled to my heart, and
my hair sprang on end, as my ear caught a sound proceed-
ing out of the vault. I stood fixed to the spot. The noise
reached me again, and the next moment the low accents of
a human voice fell upon my ear. My fears subsided, and
I approached the low portal, when I perceived a dim ray
of light proceeding from the crack in the door. A key
was in the lock, which I noiselessly removed, and looking
through the key-hole I discovered five men, whom I recog-
,
nized to be doctors and students, who were about to make
an examination of the body, which they had already re-
moved from its coffin, and divested of its shroud. My
course was soon determined. Giving a sudden kick against
the door, I exclaimed, in a feigned tone of voice:
" Touch it not!"
In an instant the light was extinguished.
Oh, Lord, let me out!” exclaimed one.
a


40
MAJOR JONES.
“Hush-h-h!" was breathed in a low whisper, and all
was still.
I was not a little vexed at the interruption to my plans
which their presence had occasioned, and I resolved to
screen myself from detection, if possible, by frightening
them from the premises ; in order to do which, it became
necessary for me to assume a character very much at vạri-
ance with the nature of the business which had brought
me to the spot.
“Oh, I've got you !" I exclaimed, “and you are dead
men, every mother's son of you.”
“Let me out, let me out !" groaned a terrified student;
“I had nothing to do with it, sir."
“I don't care," I replied; “I was sent here to watch this
vault, and I'm to get a hundred dollars for shooting any
one whom I catch trying to steal that corpse—and I'll do it.”
A brief pause ensued, during which I could overhear a
suppressed whisper among the doctors.
Then a grim
voice uttered in a louder tone:
“Gentlemen, we must defend ourselves from this ruffian;
look to your arms.
“Oh, ho!” I exclaimed, in a swaggering tone, “is that
your game? Come on, then, you grave-robbin' hyenas !
Draw your thumb-lancets and rattle your pill-boxes; bnt
you
can't skeer this child. You'll find me a six-gun bat-
tery, and ready for action.”
A deep groan from within told the effect of this bluster-
a


JOHN'S ALIVE.
41
ing speech. After another short pause, during which I
could hear voices in low consultation, a voice from the
tomb addressed me in a rather more pacific strain :
“ You certainly will not be so rash as to commit violence
upon
unarmed men, when you must be aware that our only
motive is the advancement of the medical science, and
through it the good of the human species. We desire only
to make an autopsical examination, and not to remove the
body of_”
"I don't care a d-n for your medical science, nor your
autopsicals nother," I replied, affecting a stupid obstinacy;
“if you want to larn anything as you don't know, go and
cut ap dogs and cats, but don't go about robbing people's
graves and cutting up human creatures. But you've done
your last job in that way now, for I'll shoot every devil of
you, and get a hundred dollars a-head for it too."
“I'll give you ten times that amount to let me off,” said
the student.
“ Will no consideration induce you to permit us to de-
part? We have not marred the corpse, and if
say no more about it, you shall be well paid."
I was aware that I had them completely in my power, for
I knew that if they feared my threats, they feared exposure
worse; and though I did not like the mercenary character
;
I would be compelled to assume, yet it was necessary that
I should make some such arrangement of the natter in
order to screen myself. After some hesitation I conceded
you will


42
MAJOR JONES.
to their own terms, which were, that they would put me in
possession of everything they had of value about them, and
even more if I required it, if I would permit them to de-
part unmolested, and keep their secret from the public.
Accordingly I allowed them to pass out, one at a time,
each depositing in my hat as he passed, his watch, and such
money as he had about his person; which to my surprise I
afterwards found to be no inconsiderable amount. I soon
found myself once more alone in the graveyard. To my
great gratification, I discovered that my designs had been
rather assisted than embarrassed by the interruption to my
original plan. I now had no occasion to mutilate the door
with my crowbar, as I was in possession of a key that would
enable me to leave the premises in such a manner as not to
excite suspicion of the vault having been opened ; and the
coffin had been unscrewed and the corpse divested of its
shroud and winding-sheet, ready to receive the clothes I
had brought for it.
I entered the vault, taking care to secure the key, and
lighting my lantern, commenced to perform the offices of the
toilette for the corpse which had just been so unceremo-
niously stripped of its ghostly attire by the doctors. Having
dressed the body in a full suit of my own clothes, and
placed the coffin in its proper position, I sallied forth with
my substitute in my arms. On reaching Ninth Street,
which I did with some difficulty, owing to the high wall
over which I had to clamber, I paused to see that the coast
was clear and to arrange my plan of proceeding.
a


JOHN'S ALIVE.
43
It was past one o'clock and the street was as silent as
the gloomy inclosure I had just left. Not a watchman
was to be seen. Taking the corpse upon my back under-
neath my cloak, I directed my steps towards the Delaware.
I had proceeded as far as the corner of Ninth and Pine
streets, and had turned down the latter towards the river,
when, just as I was passing the gloomy inclosure of the
Pennsylvania Hospital, where there was no alley or court
into which I might dodge, I heard the heavy boots of a
watchman advancing to meet me What was to be done ?
I could not pass without exciting his suspicions, nor could
I outrun him with my burden, and to relinquish it there
was to insure detection. The watchman was fast approach-
ing, and nearly in sight, when I hit upon the only expedi-
ent that appeared at all practicable. I sat the corpse upon
its feet, hastily threw my cloak about its shoulders and
pulled my fur cap upon its head. It was cold and stiff,
and stood erect with little assistance. As the honestvold
guardian of the night approached, I commenced an alter-
cation, supplying my companion's part of the dialogue in
a feigned voice. After a little muttering, I broke out in a ,
louder tone, as I supported the corpse with one hand
against the fire-plug, by which we were now standing,
“You're a liar!"_“You're another!"_“I'll break your
mouth!” _“You'd better try it, you puppy!"_“Call me
a puppy !" (here the footfalls of the watchman became
more rapid) “take that, you infernal scoundrel!” Then I
а


44
MAJOR JONES.
my feet
>
affected several groans and grunts, and made as much noise
as possible with my upon
the
pavement.
“Sthop dot! stbop dat viten !” exclaimed the old watch-
man, hastily approaching.
When he had almost reached the spot, I relinquished my
hold, and ran round the corner, leaving the corpse to con-
front the watchman. The stiffened body still stood nearly
erect against the fire-plug, muffled in my cloak and cap, when
the old Dutchman grasped it by the collar, exclaiming-
“Ah! you tam rascal; you shall go mit me; come, come,
"
no pullin pack, or I'll preak your heat.”
At that moment the corpse, jostled from its equilibrium
by the watchman's rudeness, swung round to the opposite
side of the plug against which it was leaning. As it fell,
and the infuriated Dutchman thought was endeavoring to
break away from his hold, he hit it a severe rap over the head
with his mace, which dislodged the cap, and revealed, by the
pale light of the expiring street lamp, its ghastly features.
“ Oh, mine Got! mine Got! vat ish I done!" exclaimed
the horror-stricken Dutchman, as he broke away up the
street, impelled by the awful conviction that he had either
captured an evil spirit or killed a human being.
I could not refrain a hearty laugh, for the first time in a
month, as the fast-receding sounds of the Dutchman's well-
nailed boots died away in the distance.
I again shouldered the body and succeeded in reaching
one of the lower wood-wharves without further interruption.
a


JOAN'S ALIVE.
45
Before committing the body to its new resting-place, I sat
down to recover my almost exhausted breath, and to medi-
tate upon the adventures of the night. As I recurred to the
past, and the excitement of the moment gradually subsided,
my mind again relapsed into its wonted gloom, and I
would have tossed up “heads or tails” with the corpse to
decide which should make the plunge. But my thirst for
adventure, and a growing desire to see how my scheme
would work, impelled me on to the completion of my orig-
inal design; and after depositing my cloak and cap upon
the wharf, I plunged the body into the almost congealing
water, and then directed my steps to a remote and retired
part of the city, where I might, unobserved by my friends
and acquaintances, await the issue.
a
CHAPTER III.
John's compunctions of conscience—The announcement in the papers-
Wavers in his purpose-Conflicting emotions-Attends his own
funeral-Makes many interesting observations there-Determines
to leave Philadelphia-His departure for New York-Doleful re-
flections-Sails for New Orleans-Sea-sickness—The dandy-The
lieutenant's remedy-John's preventive-Happy effects of the voy-
age.
I CONFESS that I was not without some compunctions of
conscience when I reflected upon what I had done. But it


46
MAJOR JONES.
>
was too late to retract. I feared the consequences, should
the deception which I had practiced be discovered, and now
my greatest solicitude was to escape the observation of those
who might recngnize me; and though I was extremely
anxious to hear the gossip to which my suicide had given
rise, and to learn how my scheme had succeeded, the follow-
ing day and night was spent in concealment and suspense.
On the morning of the second day after my adventure, I
I
strolled into a public reading-room in the Northern Lib-
erties, a part of the city which I had seldom frequented,
when I met with the following paragraph in one of the
city papers:
“ Suicide.—A young gentleman of very respectable con-
nections, by the name of John Smith, committed suicide,
by drowning in the Delaware, some time during Wednes-
day night last. He had been in a state of mental despond-
ency for some months past, and from a letter which was
found in his room, it is supposed that disappointment in an
affair of the heart was the cause of his committing the rash
act, which has plunged his afflicted family into grief un-
speakable. His body was recovered near the Navy Yard
last evening. His funeral will take place from his mother's
residence, at No. -, Market Street, this afternoon, at half
ast four o'clock."
The paper fell from my hands, I could have sunk
through the floor, such was my chagrin and mortification
on reading that paragraph. I had never before reflected


JOAN'S ALIVE.
47
.
а
upon the consequences of my rash and wicked act. “Plunged ·
his afflicted family into grief unspeakable!" These words
pierced me to the heart. What bad I not inflicted upon
my poor old mother and fond sisters? I was the only son,
and I felt that I had murdered my mother. Oh, the agony
of that thought! How I abhorred and execrated myself.
I left the room almost resolved to go to my distressed family,
and disclose all that I had done. In the frenzy of my
mind a confused mass of thoughts rushed through my brain.
But when I thought of the cruel treatment I had received
from Mary, and the triumph she would enjoy, were I to
make the disclosure which I had just contemplated, all other
feelings yielded to that of insatiable revenge, and the ten-
der emotions that had but a moment before arisen in my
bosom, at the thought of the heart-rending misery I had
inflicted upon my aged mother, were soon swallowed up
by those grosser passions of my nature, which were now
fanned into a flame of raging madness by the combined sen-
timents of love, jealousy, and hate. Besides, I knew not
to what extent I had made myself legally liable as well as
morally culpable by what I had done, and I came to the
hasty resolve to see, if possible, the result of the affair, and
then leave the home of my youth never to return.
Accordingly, at the hour appointed for the funeral, I ap-
proached the residence of my mother, where I found a large
concourse of people had assembled, in carriages and on foot.
In my well-studied disguise, I mingled with the crowd, and
a
a


48
MAJOR JONES.
listened to the various stories that were in circulation con-
cerning my sad end. The feeling of sympathy for me, and
execrations for those who had been the cause of my calamity,
was almost universal among those who pretended to know
anything of the circumstances. This was a balm to my
wounded heart; and I will confess that the deep sympathy
and universal respect which was manifested for me on that
occasion was extremely grateful to my feelings. Indeed, I
could not but be impressed with the conviction that much
of the bitterness and gloom of the death hour would be dis-
pelled if the departed could but be conscious of the honors
of the funeral ceremony. At length the splendid mahogany
coffin made its appearance, and was conveyed to the hearse.
Immediately after it came the mourners, all in deep black;
but judge my surprise and gratification, when I discovered,
arm-in-arm with my two grown sisters, Mary, the cause of
all my woe, herself in tears, and to all appearance the most
disconsolate of the mourning train! With what triumph
I exulted in my heart when I heard her broken sobs and
deep-drawn sighs. Such a moment was worth a life of
anguish, and I could scarcely restrain my exultation.
Slowly the hearse moved to the burying-ground. Once
more I joined in the funeral train-once more I saw the
same body consigned to its mother earth; and now I turned
away from my own funeral, indeed dead to all my early
associations and enjoyments, but not insensible to the bitter
miseries of life.


JOHN'S ALIVE.
49
I returned to my hotel, where I had taken lodgings, and
where I passed myself as a young gentleman just from the
West, and in the loneliness of my chamber meditated
upon what course I should adopt. That I must bid adieu
to Philadelphia, and that forever, was a settled matter.
But where should I go, and what should I do? were
questions not so easily resolved. I had no trade or pro-
fession, and little or no knowledge of business, and, though
I had been reared with good expectations, the money
which I had obtained from the physicians now constituted
my
sole resources. I could now look for nothing from my
mother's ample estate; and the melancholy conviction
forced itself upon my mind that I must expect henceforth
to fulfil the original curse, and earn my bread by the sweat
of my brow. I resolved to bend my course to the South,
where I hoped, by the formation of new associations, and
by the adoption of new and more active pursuits, to obliter-
ate, in some degree at least, the memory of the past, and, if
possible, to wean my mind from the contemplation of an
object which must now ever remain a source of misery
and regret.
That Mary loved me in spite of her former affected in-
difference, her conduct at my funeral fully assured me, and
no thought carried with it such poignant remorse as the
conviction that I had lost her, and plunged myself in pov-
erty and misery by my own indiscretion. Had I pursued
a different and more rational course towards her—had I
4


50
MAJOR JONES.
treated as they merited her girlish follies, I felt assured
that all might yet have been well. But my indomitable
.
temper had led me to the commission of an act, the dire
consequences of which I had never calculated, and which
time only could reveal. But regrets were vain—the deed
was done, and could not be recalled. She had mourned
me dead; and though I was still among the living, I was,
and must ever remain dead to her.
On the following day I took the steamboat for New
York. Strange, indeed, were my reflections as I mingled
among the varied throng of passengers who crowded the
decks of the old Burlington. In my fate the natural order
of things seemed to be reversed. When others were con-
signed to their graves, they left their bodies to moulder in
the tomb, while their souls passed away to another, and it
was to be hoped, better world. I, who had been followed
to my grave by mourning friends, and over whom sad
tears of parting had been shed, had left my heart and soul
in Philadelphia, while my dull body was doomed to wan-
der alone and disconsolate through the world. As the
gallant boat glided rapidly up the Delaware, I sat upon
the taffrail and took a last, lingering look at the fast-reced-
ing city. No hat or handkerchief waved an adieu to me,
and my heart sank within me as the last faint outline of
the city of my birth faded from my sight.
In New York, the saddening sense of my isolated con-
dition only became more forcibly impressed upon my mind,


JOHN'S ALIVE.
51
as I looked on, an idle spectator of the bustle and commo-
·tion of the great commercial metropolis. I was alone amid
the busy throng, and as I sought a secluded spot upon the
wharf, and listened to the clamor of the draymen, or the en-
livening "oh-heavo!” of the sailors, I could not but think
that the broken cog-wheel upon which I was seated af-
forded a striking illustration of my own situation. Like
it I had lost my place in the great and complicated ma-
chinery of life, which was moving on with its ceaseless
hum before me.
One vessel was up for New Orleans, and was to sail with
the first wind, in which I secured my passage. On enter-
ing my name upon the books of the office, it occurred to
me that I should assume a new one to avoid detection, but
a moment's reflection assured me that no name could pos-
sibly be more anonymous than my own. So down went
Job Smith, as a cabin passenger for New Orleans.
It was a beautiful afternoon when our little brig dropped
down the North River, and with a favoring tide and a
light breeze, we passed out of the Narrows just as the set-
ting sup was gilding the gently undulating waves of the
broad Atlantic with his departing rays. There were seve-
ral passengers, among whom were some that had “ploughed
the wave" before, but most of our party, like myself, were
now for the first time on salt water. The sea seemed as
calm and quiet as a slumbering infant, and yet there was at
intervals of about half a minute a very unpleasant sensa-


52
MAJOR JONES.
a
tion experienced by most of the passengers, who still lin-
gered upon deck enjoying the beautiful prospect of the
scenery of Long Island and the Jersey shore. For a time
conversation passed freely, and all seemed filled with new
delight and animation by the sudden change which had
taken place in their condition. By and by the convivial
spirit evidently began to flag, and faces that had been all
life and animation an hour before, began to wear a serious
aspect as the shades of evening drew on. Some leaned
over the bulwarks in moody abstraction, while others made
but a feeble effort to be sociable. One, a huge old
,
grocer,
who would have answered to stand for Daniel Lambert,
had early withdrawn from the quarter-deck, and sought a
comfortable leaning-place, but where he seemed to be greatly
annoyed by the chattering of a cockney dandy, who kept
up a ceaseless strain of interrogations to the captain.
“ Capting,” said he, after a slight pause, during which
he looked uncommonly serious,"capting, what makes me
feel so; eh ?"
eb
“I don't know; leaving your ma, I suppose," replied
I
our merry old skipper.
“ Ain't you 'shamed, capting, I don't mean that,” re-
plied the dandy, gracefully placing his hand upon the pit
of his stomach, while his glassy eyes and colorless lips
plainly indicated the disturbed state of his craw,—“every
now and then, I feel sort o' bad right here.”
“Why, you're getting seasick, you d-d fool!” growled





Inn!
(54)
“Ain't this ship turning around, mister ?”


JOHN'S ALIVE.
55
the churlish old grocer, just as he made one ponderous
effort to heave the contents of his ample stomach into the
sea.
>
“That's it," nodded the captain.
“Well, I thought it was something remarkable; I never
I
felt so curious before !” replied the astonished dandy, as he .
essayed to cross to the other side of the deck, doubtless to
avoid his uncivil friend, the grocer. The first step seemed
as if he was about to ascend a pair of stairs; the next, as if he
were stepping down from an elevation in the deck, and, as
he ventured the third, the corner of his square-toed boot
caught in the seam of his pantaloons with such violence as
to split them to the knee, while he went lumbering to the
opposite side of the vessel, and only stopped in his impetu-
ous rush when he“ brought up” at full length against the
bulwarks. He was picked out of the scupper, and raised
to his feet by an old tar who came to his assistance.
Thunderation!” he exclaimed, raising his hand to his
head, which had come in rather violent contact with the
woodwork; “I didn't see that place before. Whew! I'm
so dizzy! An't the ship turning round, mister ?”
“Never mind, never mind,” replied the kind old sailor,
“it'll be as straight as a marlinspike when you get your
sea-legs on; but you'd better drink a little salt-water; it'll
help you.”
“ What! that 'ere nasty stuff? Ugh! it makes me gag
a


56
MAJOR JONES.
to look at it. I'm so sick-ob, I'll die! Where's the door?
I want to go to bed.” And with the assistance of the sailor,
the young gentleman with the torn trousers made his exit
into the cabin.
By this time the breeze had freshened a little, and its
gentle murmur, as it breathed through the cordage, was
broken only by the merry jests of the well, or the long-
drawn groans and heaves of the sick portion of our crew,
which latter class were ranged along in rows on either side,
paying reluctant tribute to the ocean god, occasionally giv-
ing vent to their splenetic tempers by quarrelling with the
others, who, instead of sympathizing with them, made their
sufferings a subject of mirth.
“E-e-eph !" groaned one, "ain't there nothing that'll
stop it?-e-e-eph !-Oh, I shall die !"
“E-e-eph !” in another tone, came from the opposite side
in reply.
E-e-eph !-Oh, Lord !-e-e-eph !-Oh! I can't stand
it!" groaned a little tallow-faced man, who threw up one leg
at each heave.
“Swallow a piece of fat pork,” said one," and it'll”.
“Oh, go to h-11 with your pork !—eeeph !" retorted
L
the old grocer.
“There goes my hat overboard !” whined a poor fellow,
who had just risen from a perfect paroxysm of vomiting.
“ That's nothing," replied the fat man.
had to throw up as much as me!—I've raised the waist-
“ 'Spose you


JOHN'S ALIVE.
57
-
bands of my breeches full three inches. There comes that
snipe again—the very sight of him is enough to-e-e-eph!
e-e-eph! Oh!”_
“I can't stay down there, capting, it smells so-ee-eph !
Oh dear, I shall die !” exclaimed the poor dandy, as he came
tumbling up the companion-way,—“e-eeph! Capting,
you must make me a bed up here, for I can't sleep down
there-e-e-eph! Oh, Lord—I know it will kill me. I
don't see how people can laugh when we're all so sick-
e-e-eph! Oh, dear Lordy!—e-e-eph !” Here the poor
fel-
low rolled on to the deck, and groaned and heaved at inter-
vals, affording, by his chatterings and contortions, a fit sub-
ject of mirth for all who had a stomach for a laugh. Even
the old grocer's ponderous sides shook with laughter when
be regarded his fellow-sufferer, notwithstanding that he had
considered his presence as an aggravation of his disease.
“Here," said one of the passengers, a lieutenant in the
navy,“ take this and swallow it, and it'll cure you,” hold-
ing before the prostrate dandy a piece of fat pork tied to
the end of a hempen string.
“Will it though ?” asked the sufferer, with an air of
credulity.
“To be sure it will, if you repeat it two or three times."
“ How ?
“Why, swaliow it and pull it up again by the string."
“Well, I'll try anything to save my life; but it's too
big, I can't swallow that."
a
»
5


58
MAJOR JONES.
a
“Yes, you can-down with it!"
By this time the eyes of the whole crew, sick and well,
were directed to the dandy. He made one desperate effort
to swallow the chunk of greasy pork, which had no sooner
entered his mouth than he was again seized with a violent
fit of vomiting
“E-e-eph! e-e-eph-oh lord ! lieutenant, I can't go that
-it's too fat-e-e-eph! Oh, I shall die; take it away, it
makes me worse-e-e-eph !"
A general laugh was enjoyed at the expense of the poor
dandy, who remonstrated against such conduct in a manner
that only excited the risibility of his hearers.
Though I had felt the effects of the “ground swell,”
which was all that produced the sickening motion of the
vessel, yet I had in a great measure escaped the effect of
the epidemic, which raged so violently among my fellow-
passengers, by adopting a remedy for sea-sickness which I
had heard of when a boy, and which I soon found to be
an admirable preventive. I would have recommended it
to my fellow-passengers but that I doubted its efficacy
until I had given it a trial. On the first slight sensation
of nausea, I procured from the steward a large piece of
raw cod-fish, and, taking my seat at the foot of the main-
mast, where of course the motion of the vessel was much
less to be felt than at either extremity, I kept myself as
quiet as possible, and gnawed my cod-fish with an excel-


JOHN'S ALIVE.
59
s
a
lent relish, while the others were suffering the severest
penalties of a first voyage at sea.
It was several days before all the seats at our captain's
table were filled, and, as often as the weather became a
little rough, our dandy passenger was missed from his ac-
customed seat. The novelty of nautical life afforded much
relief to my depressed spirits, and, before our arrival at
our place of destination, the exciting events incident to
our voyage—a recital of which I will spare the reader-
had served to dispel much of the gloomy despondency to
which I had so long been a victim.
a
CHAPTER IV.
John tries merchandising in New Orleans-Soon relapses into his for-
mer despondency-Seeks to “drown it in the bowl”--Gets into a .
fight on the levee-Is lodged in the Calaboose-With dificulty ob-
tains his release-Fortunes at a low ebb-Sans money, sans friends,
sans everything~Enlists in the army of General Gaines—Sails for
Florida-Improved state of feeling, the effect of hard marching~
Human nature with the bark off-Camp courtesy-Dade's battle-
ground—John's partiality for the General expressed.
a
AFTER idling about a few days among the various places
of public resort in the Crescent City, I applied for and ob-
tained a situation in a commercial house as bookkeeper.
Here I endeavored by close application to business to draw


60
MAJOR JONES.
my mind away from the contemplation of the past, in the
hope that it might once more regain its wonted sanity; for
I could only account for my rash conduct on the ground
that my reason had become impaired. For a time, while
everything was novel and strange, I was not without hope.
But ere six months had rolled off, my mind began to relapse
into its former channels of thought, and I again became
restless and miserable, despite my exertions to shake off
the gloomy despondency, which I was too sensible was
again stealing upon me.
Before the term of my engage
ment, which was one year, had expired, I relinquished my
very lucrative situation, from a consciousness that I was in-
competent in my present state of mind to fill so important
a trust; and in order to blunt the poignancy of my feelings,
;
abandoned myself to the worst excesses of dissipation. But
with me, as with Cassio, wine could not drown remorse,
and the inebriating cup only excited me to madness.
On one occasion, while brutally intoxicated, I encountered
some sailors on the levee, with whom I had a quarrel, and
by whom I was severely beaten and robbed of nearly every-
thing I had of value about me. I was carried almost frantic
to the calaboose, where I found myself on the following morn-
ing in a most deplorable condition, both of mind and body.
It was with much difficulty that I procured my release from
the authorities, who regarded me as a very suspicious per-
son, as I could give no satisfactory account of myself. On
my first examination, they insisted, in spite of all my re-


JOHN'S ALIVE.
61
monstrances and denials, on retaining me in custody as an
old offender, and read to me a long list of offences docketed
upon their records against John Smith, some of which
would have sent me to the gallows, or penitentiary for life,
bad I not succeeded ultimately in establishing my personal
identity by respectable witnesses, who had known me since
my arrival in New Orleans.
Once more at liberty, I found myself without money,
and, of course, without friends; and, worse than all, in-
capable of business by which to obtain a livelihood. I
began to look upon my fortunes as approaching to a des-
perate crisis, and seriously meditated an escape from ills
which I could not bear by a suicide in earnest.
Such was my condition, and such the tenor of my
thoughts, when that gallant old soldier, General Gaines—
whose name I ever loved to honor-arrived in the city
on his way to Florida to subdue the Seminoles, who
were then spreading havoc and destruction throughout
that devoted land. I felt that I was indeed “fit food for
the rifle's mouth.” With eagerness “I longed to follow
to the field some warlike lord,” and when the call was
made, through the city papers, for troops, John Smith's
name was among the first enrolled upon the list of gallant
Louisiana volunteers. A few days were spent in making
preparations, and on the morning of the 4th of February,
1836, I found myself on board the steamer “Watchman,"
a soldier, on my way to the theatre of war.
66


62
MAJOR JONES.
On our arrival at Tampa, General Gaines found himself
in command of about 1100 as good troops as ever entered
a battle-field, but almost entirely destitute of the muni-
tions of war, and the disparaging alternative presented
itself of either returning to New Orleans in our transports
or marching to meet the enemy without those necessaries
which we had so confidently expected would be at our
command on our arrival at Fort Brook—where indeed
we found large quantities of government stores, but no
means of transportation, so indispensable, and yet so
cumbrous, to an army in a country like Florida.
The latter expedient was insisted upon by the troops,
who were willing to bear their provisions for the march
to Fort King, a distance of more than one hundred miles,
upon
their backs, and to brave every danger and hardship
incident to such an expedition, inspired as they were by
the presence of a leader in whom they reposed such
unbounded confidence.
Those who are not prepared to concede the oft-repeated
dogma that a man is but the creature of circumstances,
have only to pass a few months in the camp to have their
skepticism on this point entirely removed. In ordinary
life we are artificial characters, and take our distinctive
shade or caste from the sphere in which we move. But
in the camp these artificial distinctions are soon lost. In
the rude vicissitudes of camp life each is thrown upon his
natural resources, and though the polish of refinement may


JOAN'S ALIVE.
63
for a time hold its gloss, the rugged contact in which it is
brought with the sternest necessities of animal life—which
as a comrade, now no more, used to remark-knocked the
very bark of his human nature—will soon remove its
restraints, and place prince and peasant upon a level for
the time. On our voyage to Tampa, and for some time
after our encampment, there was a courteous bearing, a sort
of chivalric deportment observable among the volunteers,
which induced me to believe that I had fallen into an
association of the élite of the South. The most formal
politeness was observed on all occasions. Every man was
a general in his bearing, and touched his chapeau as he
passed his fellows with the air of a French gen d'armes.
If anything was missed or mislaid the word was passed :
“Has any gentleman seen my tin cup?" or, “What gentle-
man's got our coffee-pot?”
And when the article was
discovered in the possession of another, there was a pro-
fusion of bowing and scraping—“I beg your pardon, sir.”
—“O, no matter, sir.”—“I'm much obliged.”—“You're
very welcome,” etc., etc. But a few days' short rations,
and a hard march or two, soon changed the tone of our
camp society.
Now the cry was: “What gentleman's
stole my coffee-pot?”. And this inconsistency was changed
to “What d-d rascal's stole our frying-pan?” or, “I
I
can whip the man that took my pork!” And it was not
unfrequently that a poor fellow's head came in contact
with a frying-pan or camp-kettle, if found in his possession
:
>


- 64
MAJOR JONES.
without his ear-marks. The word gentleman was soon
discarded from our vocabulary, and in its stead other
familiar titles were substituted, which would not look so
well in print. The kindly feelings were soon smothered,
selfishness became the order of the day, and he was to be
pitied, indeed, who did not adopt the maxim of the camp,
which was, “Every man for himself, and the Indians for
us all.”
The change in my life was a happy one. The camp,
with its bustle and excitement, its pageantry and parade,
was new to me, and the hardships and dangers to which we
were at all times exposed, as we marched over the arid sands,
or penetrated the gloomy forest in search of the foe, effec-
tually dispelled the ennui with which I had so long been
beset; and as I bent beneath my heavy burden in the day,
or stretched my weary limbs upon the ground at night, I
was far happier than I had been since I first awoke from
“ love's young dream."
Our march was exceedingly severe, and though nothing
occurred to test my nerve, my sinews were put to their trial
during our scout in search of the enemy upon the Alapia,
and our subsequent movements in the direction of Fort
Drane. But my first initiation into the frightful horrors of
war was afforded by the awful spectacle presented on our
arrival at the place where Major Dade and his gallant band
had been surrounded and cut to pieces on the 20th of the
previous December. The field of Waterloo, after that san-


JOHN'S ALIVE.
65
guinary conflict doubtless presented a much more imposing
spectacle, but certainly was incapable, with all its vast heca-
tomb of promiscuous dead, of harrowing up such emotions
as heaved the breast of every beholder of the melancholy
spectacle before us.
The loneliness of the spot—the deep
gloom of the trackless forest—the sonıbre shade and melan-
choly music of the sighing pines—all contributed to the
mournful solemnity of the scene. And then the ghastly,
mutilated forms that strewed the ground, the innumerable
evidences of the fierceness of the death-struggle of that little
band-away, then, in those lonely wilds, where the roar of
their artillery only startled the wolf from his den, as it
reverberated through the still depths of the forest, and their
battle-cry was drowned in the demoniac yell of their merci-
less foe-all were calculated to impress the mind with a sad
sympathy for the fallen braves. In the rude triangular
breastwork which marks the spot where the remnant of the
devoted band made their last stand against such over-
whelming odds, a grizzly wolf and a vulture lay prostrate
with the bodies, upon which, perhaps, they had over-gorged
their long-starved appetites. On every pine, the turpentine
was glistening in the sun, as it came seeping from innumer-
able ball-holes, and at a little distance from the inclosure
stood a cart, to which were still attached the skeletons of
two oxen and a horse, who lay as they had been shot down,
with the harness still upon them. The track of the little
column, from the spot where the attack first commenced,
5


66
MAJOR JONES.
.
back to where the death-struggle had ensued, was strewed
with the wreck of battle. Cartridge-boxes, shoes, coats,
and caps, lay strewed upon the ground, all perforated with
• balls, and not unfrequently still stained with blood. Even
the veteran Gaines could not disguise his émotion, as the
men were busied in their sad task of collecting the bodies
for burial. They were interred with all the solemnity of
military usage, in three graves, the men in two large ones,
and the officers, who were easily identified by their dress,
in another of smaller dimensions. · Planting their cannon
at the head of the latter, to mark the spot, we resumed our
march, leaving them to sleep—not upon “the field of
glory,” the soldier's last and proudest privilege, but like all
who fall by the savage foe, in the gloom of forgetfulness;
where the tall pines, that alone witnessed their valor and
prowess, shall cast their ever-green shade over their isolated
resting-place, and sigh, as they toss their aged arms to the
skies, their never-ceasing requiem.
On the following day we arrived at the pine pickets of
Fort King, where we were again disappointed in our ex-
pectation of obtaining provisions, baggage-wagons, ammu-
nition, etc. We were, however, speedily supplied by General
Clinch, from Fort Drane, so far as was in his power to
afford us assistance, and after a brief rest, again took up
our line of march, with five days' provisions upon our backs
and upon the backs of the few pack-horses which we were
2


JOHN'S ALIVE.
67
able to procure, for the point on the Withlacoochee where
it was supposed the enemy was in force.
It has been urged by those who have lamented the dis-
astrous result of this campaign, that General. Gaines was to
bė blamed for rashly entering the enemy's country without
the necessary preparations for a protracted campaign. I
have no objection that others should enjoy their own opin-
ions in regard to this matter; nevertheless, I am disposed.
to take a very different view of the conduct of that officer,
and so far from visiting him with censure, I feel that he
merits the esteem and gratitude of the country for his gal-
lant and soldier-like deportment in Florida. He was anx-
ious to give the people of that Territory relief, and promptly
placing himself at the head of an efficient force, and know-
ing well the Indian character, he hastened at once to the
field, as one who came to chastise not to frighten or entreat.
And had he been sustained with the resources then in the
country, and which could as well have been hastened to his
aid as consumed at Picolata, and on the way between that
post and Fort Drane, or had the gallant Clinch been per-
mitted to co-operate with him as he desired, and as the lat-
ter would cheerfully have done, the annals of our country
would never have been marred with the history of the pro-
tracted and disgraceful Indian war which has ensued, and
in which has been spilled some of the best blood of the na-
tion. But I may not digress, even to poise a lance in de-
fence of my old general.
·


68
MAJOR JONES.
CHAPTER V.
The Withlacoochee-The first fight-John's peculiar sensations on that
occasion—The second encounter-Attack in the breastworks The
music of a rifle-ball an exception to the rule-Seminole dentistry-
Battle at night-John is wounded-Short rations and hard fighting-
Desperate onset—The armistice-The council-A dainty morsel—The
surprise—The relief-Return to Camp Smith.
It was early on the second day after our departure from
Fort King, that our advance-guard reached the bank of the
Withlacoochee. As we approached to the bank of that
wild stream, whose tawny waters glide with a lazy current
amid cypress swamps and sleepy lagoons on to the ocean, as
still and calm as if its glassy surface had never been ruf-
fled by human power, suddenly the sharp crack of the rifle
pealed upon our startled ears, and from a thousand throats
came the terrific warwhoop of the savages, who lay con-
cealed upon the opposite bank. I felt a thrill of excitement
run through every nerve. It was the first time that I had
ever heard that blood-curdling.yell, and I was soon to par-
ticipate, for the first time, in mortal combat. I cannot de-
scribe my feelings at that moment. It was not fear; it
was
not anger made me tremble; but my mind was oppressed
with a strange compound of mingled emotions. There was
an indefinite, indescribable sense of imminent peril, a feel-
ing of suspense, the more painful because of its uncertain
a


JOAN'S ALIVE.
69
brevity. Perhaps, my last breath was in my nostrils! It
was but for a moment; but, in that brief moment, a life-
time of thought ran through my brain. All the unfinished
business of an ill-spent life pressed itself upon me. ....
One volley—a shout of defiance—and my agony was over ;
and the next moment, when a riderless horse came dashing
past, his flank all stained with blood, I felt at ease amid
the danger and din of battle, and snuffed the sulphury at-
mosphere with as much composure as a veteran.
A sharp
fire was kept up on both sides for near an hour, when, find-
ing it impossible to cross the stream at that point without
the aid of boats, the army fell back to a little distance from
the river, and passed the night in the breastworks thrown
up by General Clinch on the night previous to the battle
of the With lacoochee.
At sunrise, on the following morning, we were again in
line, and moved down the river a distance of about two
miles, where it was understood there were less natural obsta-
cles to prevent our crossing the stream. On again approach-
ing the bank, which we did about nine o'clock, we met with
a reception similar to our first greeting, which we returned
with a free good-will, and the spirited interchange of com-
pliments was kept up without intermission until near one
o'clock in the afternoon, when the red rascals, for reasons
best known to themselves, declined the sport. During this
spirited affair many of our men were killed or wounded.
Among those mortally wounded was the gallant Lieutenant


70
MAJOR JONES.
Izard, a gentleman and soldier deserving a better fate.
Retiring a short distance from the river, we threw up
breastworks, and passed the night without interruption.
About ten o'clock on the following morning, the enemy
paid us a call on our own side of the river, and for the
space of two hours their rifles kept up as enlivening a tête-
à-tête with our yagers and muskets" as one might wish to
hear.” For a time the rifle-balls whistled about us like
hail, and many of our men were obliged to acknowledge,
some with a groan, others with a curse, the receipt of those
“ leaden messengers of death." But to me there is no
“ charm to soothe,” in the music of a rifle-ball, and, in spite
of all my philosophy, I found it difficult to bear in mind,
at the moment, the well-attested fact that “they are harm-
less so long as one can hear them whistle.” Another name
or two were added to our list of killed and wounded. Among
the latter was that of our brave old general himself, who
was indebted to the enemy on this occasion for the perform-
ance of a novel dental operation—a rifle-ball having passed
through his nether lip, removing one of his front teeth. The
old general is not in command of more than a corporal's
guàrd of this class of troops, and so was rather vexed at the
rascal for thus depriving him of one of his veteran front
rank men.
It was night the many notes of the tattoo had but just
ceased to send back their joint echoes from the surrounding
gloom, when, as if by appointed signal, the whole woods,
.


JOHN'S ALIVE.
71
on every side, were lit up by the blaze of their rifles, while
the welkin rang with the rattling report, mingled with
that horrid Indian yell, to me more terrible than their
weapons. For a time the blaze of fire-arms almost il-
lumined the dark scene, while the solemn woods for miles
around reverberated with the deafening peals of our mus-
ketry, or the sullen roar of our single field-piece, which,
like the hoarse voice of the mastiff amid the yelping ken-
nel of lesser throats, towered above the din at intervals.
I was in the act of rising from my knee, in which posi-
tion we had been ordered to fire, when I felt a sudden
twinge in the left arm.
“I wish you'd keep your ramrod to yourself,” I re-
marked to my file-leader, who was loading as if he had a
covey of partridges in his eye.
“ Take that, and be d—d to ye,” said he, as he dis-
charged his piece and commenced reloading, too much en-
gaged to hear me. “I'II bet that cut some of your fur,
you d-d yelling panters, ye."
“ Zip,” exclaimed one, as a ball whistled past his head;
“a miss is as good as a mile"
“I wish I had a pair of cast-iron boots that came up to
my shoulders,” remarked the third man on my right, as he
bent upon his knees.
“Stand up to your rack, Bob, and never mind the
length of your boots,” replied his file-leader.
“Oh, my God!" groaned one, and the next moment two
>


72
MAJOX JUXES.
.
men were seen dragging a poor fellow towards the surgeon's
quarters.
“There's a man got an Indian's commission in his
pocket, Pat,” said a reckless fellow in my hearing.
“Come, boys—it's no time to be indulgin' in levity;
load and fire in quickest time's the order," replied our old
Irish corporal.
“ They're coming closer-see! the flash of that rifle was
not thirty paces off.”
“ Here goes the lead-colic in that fellow's neighborhood,"
said another, as he let fly the contents of his piece in that
direction.
I had paused for a moment, not seeing anything to
shoot at, but, as the enemy were evidently advancing, and
their fire seemed to take more effect, I attempted to seize
my gun, but my left arm refused to perform its office, and
my hand hung benumbed and useless at my side. Upon
examination, I found the blood streaming profusely from
a wound in the fleshy part of the arm just below the
elbow. It was a rifle-ball, instead of my friend's ramrod,
that had attracted my attention but a few moments before.
Though the wound was slight, it incapacitated me for ser-
vice, and I was ordered to the centre of the inclosure,
where I was compelled, much against my will, to remain
inactive amid surrounding strife and confusion. It was
late when the enemy retired. .
Daybreak was their signal for renewing the onset. Owing
1


JOAN'S ALIVE.
73
to the great disparity of force, and the scarcity of ammu-
nition, it was not deemed prudent to make a sortie, espe-
cially when it was evident that such an expedient could
only result in dispersing the enemy, who, we were too
well assured, were concentrated at this point, and whom it
was the object of our general to entertain and keep together
until reinforcements and a concerted action with General
Clinch would enable him to make a decisive movement.
An express had been dispatched to Fort Drane, and while
a part of our force kept the enemy at bay, numbers were
employed in constructing boats with which to cross the
river when we should receive the necessary supplies. But
no succor came, our provisions were soon exhausted, and,
after a few days, a more formidable enemy than the savage
foe stared us in the face. Famine, with its lean and hag-
gard aspect and sunken eye, stalked through the camp, dis-
piriting the brave, and unnerving the strong. Another
express was dispatched, and yet no relief. Still was Gaines
the same resolute and intrepid leader that he had been in
younger and more glorious days, and his noble example
cheered and encouraged his suffering soldiers when precept
would have failed. The wily savages were not ignorant of
our condition, and at the time when we were reduced to the
extremity of eating our poor horses, who reeled as they
walked, many of them suffering from wounds, and all per-
ishing for food, they renewed the fight with redoubled
energy, and the most determined desperation. They had
a


74
MAJOR JONES.
>
grown bolder; they set the tall grass and leaves on fire,
and while the volumes of flame and smoke curled over our
heads, they made one desperate effort, as if they would scale
our works, which we could not repel only in the last ex-
tremity, owing to the scarcity of our ammunition. When
they approached near enough, under cover of the smoke, to
bring them almost within pistol-shot, the Louisianians gave
them a reception that made them recoil like vipers from
the fire. During the night of the 5th of March, the seventh
since our encampment in the breastworks, a voice hailed
our sentinels from the opposite side of the river, and in-
formed us that (to use the speaker's own words) "de Injan
say him done tired fight, and want to make treaty," and on
the following morning, their delegates, under the protection
of a dirty white flag, made their appearance, and were met
by a corresponding number of our own officers at some dis-
tance from the breastworks, where a palaver ensued. While
this sage council was sitting cross-legged upon a log, en-
gaged in their efforts to effect a diplomatic adjustment of the
difficulties which had embroiled the two nations in war,
respectable showing of the bulwark of the red nation was
paraded in full view of the camp.
.
I sat upon a log with my wounded arm in a sling, de-
vouring a dog's heart, roasted, without salt, while the treaty
was going on. I was meditating upon the probable result
of the armistice, when I observed a sudden commotion
among the red gentry, and immediately a loud volley of
a


JOAN'S ALIVE.
75
musketry broke upon my ear. The next moment the
woods were red with flying Indians, shouting “ Clinch !
Clinch !" as they dashed headlong in the direction of the
river. The gentlemen of the council stood not upon the
order of their going, but went, abruptly deferring all further
deliberations until “to-morrow.” The whole camp was in
commotion, joy lit up the smoked and haggard counte-
nances of the men, and I dashed my dog's heart to the dogs,
and threw up my cap with joy, as I saw through the smoky
woods, the blue jacket of the gallant Clinch, approaching
at the head of his brave Georgians, and knew that relief
had come at last.
After delaying a few days, during which time it rained
incessantly—in order to give the Indians an opportunity of
renewing the negotiations which his van-guard had so sud-
denly interrupted, but which they did not do—General
Clinch, who no longer enjoyed supreme command in Florida,
obeyed the instructions of the commander-in-chief, by with-
drawing the army from the Withlacoochee to Fort Drane.
Arrived at his post, our own general, having resigned his
command into the hands of General Clinch, took his leave
of those who had been his associates in his brief but ar-
duous campaign.


76
MAJOR JONES.
CHAPTER VI.
John becomes weary of camp life--Expedient for relieving its mo-
notony-The hunting party-Florida scenery-A mimic Eden-
The rural lounge-Thoughts of pastoral life-Influence of associa-
tion-Mankind an element-Pastoral recreation–The attack-The
escape-Night in the swamp-Search for the camp—The surprise-
The chase-John becomes amphibious.
A LIFE of inactivity was but illy suited to my peculiar
temperament, and I had remained in our snug quarters in
the vicinity of Fort Drane only a few days, during which
time my wound had become entirely healed, before I began
to feel restless and dissatisfied; and notwithstanding the
privations and hardships I had just endured, I was ex-
tremely anxious to exchange the dull tedium of the camp
for the excitement of the field. We were to remain in this
state of inactivity until General Scott should be enabled to
complete his arrangements, prior to a simultaneous move-
ment against the enemy from different points, by which
means that officer hoped to put an end to the war. The
time wore heavily off, and I determined to adopt some ex-
pedient to relieve the dull monotony of a life in camp.
Accordingly, one day I proposed to four others of my com-
panions to violate the standing order of the day by stealing
out into the woods and taking a hunt. My proposition was
agreed to, and we set out with our yagers, in search of the


JOHN'S ALIVE.
77
deer and wild turkeys which abound in almost every
thicket or swamp in Florida. Our departure was unob-
served by the guard, and we hastened away from Camp
Smith, as our new encampment was called, intending only
to go so far that the report of our guns might not reach the
camp.
We had strayed far away, amid the picturesque wilds of
that delightful country, ere we were aware of our remote-
ness from the army. The scenery was enchanting, and
even at that early season of the year, wore an aspect of
luxuriance and freshness that could not fail to inspire the
beholder with a love for the wild beauties of nature. Now
we strayed through open meadows of waving grass, start-
ling the herds of wild cattle from their browsing beside
meandering rivulets, or descending into the thick groves
of fragrant orange and magnolia, where the wild vines
wrought a network over our heads, and the rich drapery of
spring hung in graceful festoons from every bough. Then
perchance we stood beneath the widespreading shade of
the evergreen live-oak, whose goarled arms, laden with
long pendant moss, had battled with the storms of centu-
ries; or pressed with our feet the green-carpeted banks of
some beautiful lake, whose transparent waters mirrored
upon its placid surface the stately forms and dark-green
foliage of the lofty trees that skirted it on every side.
Occasionally pausing to examine the rarer wild flowers


78
MAJOR JONES.
that attracted our attention, or to quench our thirst in the
cool, gurgling springs that gushed from many a hillside,
we wandered on, forgetful of every danger, and even un-
mindful of the object of our pursuit, until, becoming weary,
we threw ourselves upon a mossy bank, close by a spring
of delightful water, to rest and partake of the scanty repast
we had brought with us. Though we had apprehended
little or no danger from Indians so close to Fort Drane,
yet we had no disposition to separate, and as we stalked
through the woods, generally in free conversation, we could
not expect to surprise much game. Indeed, we felt too
sensibly the calm influence of the mimic Eden through
which we had strayed, to think of the rude sports of the
chase, and the spot upon which we had accidentally paused
afforded a prospect too richly endowed with all the charms
of nature to admit of any other thoughts than those of ad-
miration and delight. There were no rugged mountains
nor frowning granite cliffs to give grandeur and sublimity
to the view, but the gently undulating hills, clothed with
the rich verdure of the spring, the placid lake, the mur-
muring rivulet, the richly tinted flowers, nodding to the
soft breath of the fragrant zephyr, and the sweet music of
the birds, lent an air of pastoral beauty to the scene, and
imparted a feeling of tranquillity and peace to the mind,
delightful to experience but impossible to describe. It
was indeed


JOHN'S ALIVE.
79
"A happy rural seat of various view;
Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm,
Others whose fruit burnished with golden rind
Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true,
If true, here only, and of delicious taste;
Betwist them lawns or level downs, and flocks
Grazing the tender herb, were interposed;
Or palmy hillock; or the flow'ry lap
Of some irregulous valley spread her store,
Flow'rs of all hues, and without thorn the rose;
Another side, umbrageous grots and caves
Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine
Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps
Luxuriant; meanwhile murnı'ring waters fall,
That the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd
Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams.
The birds their choir apply; airs, vernal airs,
Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune
The trembling leaves."
“Is not this a lovely spot?” said one of our party, in a
tone of enthusiastic admiration.
"“ It is, indeed !” replied my sentimental friend Sam,
surveying the enchanting scene as he spoke. “How will-
ingly would I end my days in such a place. Truly happy
indeed must have been the estate of those primitive people
who lived in the golden age; whose days were passed amid
such rural scenes as this, and whose sole employment was
to guard their grazing flocks. With hearts scarce less
simple and innocent than those of their lambs and kids,


80
MAJOR JONES.
/
a
they passed their days in dreams of love, equally contented
and happy. Unsophisticated in their manners, temperate
in their desires, and unrestrained by conventional forms,
they roved the green fields of earth in the full enjoyment
of natural liberty; while the pure felicity of their exist-
ence flowed on, uninterrupted by any of the thousand
vexatious cares, mortifications and disappointments which
embitter the cup of life.”
.
“By George!" exclaimed one, cocking up the brim of his
hat, and looking wildly about as he spoke, “if there is any
such a thing as the influence of association, a fellow would
soon turn to a witch-hazel or black-jack, if he were to make
his home in this wild region.'
“That's a fact,” said Crockett, as he stooped to dip a cup
of water, “my legs begin to feel sort o' woody a’ready."
“I have somewhere seen mankind," continues Sam, in a
serious tone, "called a vegetable; and though I am not pre-
pared to say that there are not some scions of father Adam's
stock that seem to warrant the comparison, yet I am more
inclined to class him with the elements. The element of
flesh is not unlike that of water, at least in one characteris-
tic. In small communities it is passive and harmless, but
in proportion to its immensity it becomes turbid, vicious,
and depraved. Yon glassy lake or this gurgling rill, like
man in his primeval state, is pure, tranquil, and beautiful;
but is not the turbulent ocean, carrying death and destruc-
tion in its restless surges, with its treacherous quicksands
1


JOAN'S ALIVE.
81
and hidden rocks, a fit emblem of our densely populated
cities, where every vice that can corrupt and debase the
species is practiced, and where treachery, sin, and misery
roll their dark waves over the moral sea of human rela-
tions ?”
All but the speaker enjoyed a hearty laugh at Sam's
strained philosophy.
“It's a fact,” said be; “show me a city, and I'll show
you vice and misery in all their various hues; a rural cot,
and if not exalted virtue, truth, and purity, at least sim-
plicity and happiness. Man, though an intelligent being,
formed for social life, is corrupting in his influence upon his
fellows, and, when viewed in the aggregate, resembles the
element of which I speak, in more ways than one."
“Well, Sam, you moralize first-rate, but you'd have to
preach a better stave than that, before you'd get me to agree
to run wild again, like they say them old chaps were. I
believe in civilization and good society, and thar an't no
place like Natchez, that ever I seed yet."
Sam made no reply to Crockett, but throwing himself
over upon his back, with his arms crossed under his head,
commenced,
>
“Oh, that the desert were my dwelling-place."
“Well, every fellow to his liking,” interrupted Crockett,
“ but I couldn't live where there wan't po gals, no how
God bless 'em."
6


82
MAJOR JONES.
The enraptured ruralizer continued :
“With one fair spirit for my minister,
That I might all forget the human race,
And hating no one, love but only her.”
a
"Ah, that might do; with a right pretty gal for a minis-
ter, I don't know but I might-
“Become an anchorite,” interrupted one.
“A whaterite ?” asked Crockett, with a stare.
“An anchorite--a recluse."
" What's them ?-sailors ?"
“Oh, hush, Crockett, you don't know what you're talk-
ing about,” replied Sam. Then, after gazing a moment
abstractedly into the thick canopy of overarching branches,
through which the declining sun scarce penetrated, he broke
forth with one of Pope's sweet pastorals:
“Hear how the birds, in every bloomy spray,
With joyous music wake the dawning day!
Why sit we mute when early linnets sing,
When warbling Philomel salutes the spring ?
Why sit we sad when Phæbus shines so clear,
Aud lavish nature paints the purple year ?"
To which, catching the inspiration of my friend, I replied:
‘Sing, then, and Damon shall attend the strain,
While yon slow oxen turn the furrow'd plain;
Here the bright crocus and blue violet glow,
Here western winds on breathing roses blow;
· I'll stake yon lamb that near the fountain plays
And from the brink his dancing shade surveys.”


JOHN'S ALIVE.
83
Sam continued, raising aloft his tin-cup, upon which his
name was carved, with many an odd device by way of orna-
ment:
:
“And I this bowl, where wanton ivy twines
And swelling clusters bend the curling vines;
Four figures rising from the work appear,
The various seasons of the rolling year;
And what is that"
“Ingins, boys! Ingins !”—exclaimed Crockett, as he
sprang towards his gun. Each seized his yager, but ere
we had risen to our feet, a volley of rifle-balls whistled over
our heads, slightly wounding Crockett in the cheek.
“Oh, boys, my beauty's sp’ilt,” blubbered poor Crockett.
The next moment a loud yell, that sent the blood curd-
ling to our hearts, resounded through the woods, and as
we hastily sprang behind the nearest trees, two more shots,
which had been kept in reserve, were directed towards us
from the adjacent thicket, which had served to screen our
lurking foe. We did not immediately return the fire, but
waiting until the Indians, in their attempt to reduce the
distance between us, became exposed to our aim, we gave
them a well-directed fire from our five yagers, three of
which took effect, which somewhat reduced the number of
our assailants. The Indians by this time had reloaded
their pieces, and still greatly superior in number, rushed
madly towards us, incensed to desperation, if such demons
needed incitement, by the loss they had sustained. In this
t
.


84
MAJOR JONES.
1
dilemma, flight was our only hope, and calling to my com-
rades to keep together, I led the way from our covert.
While thus exposed, the Indians fired, and two of our party
were seen to fall. Sam, exclaiming, “The devil was in
Paradise !” dashed down his yet unloaded gun to free him-
self from all incumbrance, but ere he had made a dozen
paces from the spot, he too fell groaning by my side.
Our party was now reduced to two, and my companion
and myself still retained our guns, and dashed through the
open wood with the reckless speed of men who fled from
death in its most horrid form. The Indians were not slow
in their pursuit, and it was long after their hideous yell
had died upon our ears, and not until we had reached the
midst of a dense and almost impenetrable swamp, that we
felt that we had eluded their search, and that we were for
a time free from danger. We passed the night in the dis-
mal swamp, which had afforded us concealment from our
pursuers, by climbing into the top of a large tree, where
we sat out the long gloomy hours, our ears only greeted by
the doleful howl of the hungry wolf, the fierce scream of
the prowling panther, or the startling hoot of the owl; all
of which tended little to relieve the sombre cast of our
reflections,
As the day was breaking in the east, on the following
morning, we clambered down from our hiding-place, and
set out in what we hoped to be the direction of our camp,
though we knew not whether each step carried us nearer


JOHN'S ALIVE.
85
to or farther from the point which we so anxiously wished to
gain. Keeping constantly a sharp lookout, that we might not
again be surprised, we travelled on with rapid strides, con-
stantly hoping that we might meet some familiar object
which would confirm us in our course. In the anxiety of
our minds, we had forgotten every other consideration but
that of our personal safety, and though we had neither
eaten nor slept since the previous day, yet we flagged not,
such is the elasticity and vigor imparted to the physical
frame by extreme exigency of circumstances operating upon
the mind. Onward we travelled, now in despondency,
and now with reviving hope, as some peculiar aspect of the
distant view, an apparent opening or a smoky horizon,
seemed to indicate our proximity to some place of human
abode. Once we thought we heard the report of firearms,
but at a distance so remote, that we could not distinguish
whether it was that of the musket or yager, or of the rifle
of our enemies; in which latter case there was, to us, cer-
tainly nothing very luring in the sound.
The sun was already half hidden among the tree-tops,
when we discovered far away in the direction in which we
supposed our camp to lie, a cloud of rising smoke, which
we hailed with as much joy and gratitude as did the Israel-
ites their cloud and pillar of fire in the wilderness. As
the shades of evening thickened around us, we hastened
on in the direction of the camp, whose blazing fires now
sent up their cheerful light, and by which we directed our


86
MAJOR JONES.
course, felicitating ourselves upon our fortunate escape,
fully resolved within our hearts, that if it was our evil
fortune again to encounter the Indians, it should not be
without our host. Such was our eagerness to join our
friends, that we did not even pause for the challenge of
the sentinels, but hastened forward in the direction of
the fires.
We had almost penetrated into the camp when, to my
utter horror and dismay, I discovered that we had rushed
into the very den of the enemy.
“ Hi-e-lah! este-had-
kah !” exclaimed a dusky form, springing up before us,
apparently not less terrified than ourselves. On the wings
of terror we rushed from the place; but we had been dis-
covered, and now a legion of yelling devils were in hot
pursuit of us through the open pine woods. It was a
cloudless night, and the moon, which had risen above the
trees, sent its calm, pale rays into the open woods, yielding
a light scarce less brilliant and clear than that of the sun,
affording our pursuers every advantage which daylight
could have given them. Shot after shot pealed through the
woods, and so close did they press upon us that we had no
time to elude them by dodging, and no thicket presented
itself as far as the eye could reach. A spent ball pene-
trated my thigh, but it only added fleetness to my gait
as I dashed impetuously on. Once I cast a look behind.
Two Indians were abreast, far in advance of the howling
pack. I turned behind the next pine, and taking deliberate


JOHN'S ALIVE.
87
aim, fired.
“Wah!” exclaimed one, as he fell forward
upon his face. I saw his companion stoop over him, while
the wood echoed with the yells of those in the rear. Re-
loading my piece as I dashed on, endeavoring to keep each
tree that I passed between myself and my pursuers, I again
began to increase the distance between us. Again I cor-
ered myself by a tree, and again the foremost Indian balted
from the chase. Reloading as before I hastened on, my
companion a little in my rear, when suddenly, to my con-
sternation and surprise, I found myself close on the margin
of a broad lake, extending far on either side. To alter my
course would only bring me nearer to the Indians. All
escape seemed hopeless. A heavy volley whistled past, as
the infuriated savages approached, yelling in hideous con-
cert. I turned to meet my fate at the moment my com-
panion fell to the ground. Half rising and calling to me
in the most piteous tones, he was grasped by the ruthless
savages, who clustered around him. Amid the shouts and
din I heard the tomahawk cleave his skull, and heard his
expiring groan. In their midst I fired, and dashing my
gun into the lake rushed into the thick tall weeds that grew
far out into the water, determined at least to escape the
ap-
palling fate of my companion. As I looked back I felt a
numbing sensation in my breast, and the warm blood gushed
upon my hand. I was falling from the stunning shock
when I grasped among the tall iron-weeds for support,
some of which broke off in my hand. They were hollow,


88
MAJOR JONES.
and placing one in my mouth I sank beneath the surface,
where, not without difficulty, I succeeded in drawing a
breath or two through the weed. After moving to some
distance from where I had first disappeared, and to where
the water was deeper, I was forced to raise my head to the
surface in order that I might enjoy a freer respiration. The
cold water soon coagulated the blood, and the severe wound
which I had received in my breast ceased to bleed, and
though I cannot say that I felt comfortable in my new ele-
ment, yet the sense of even temporary security from my
merciless pursuers was no small relief to my mind. Luckily
the position which I had attained was thickly grown with
tall weeds and pond lilies, so that while I had an opportu-
nity of observing the movements of the Indians, I re-
mained completely screened from their view. They were
nearly all gathered around some two or three whom I had
either killed or wounded by my last fire, while some three
or four of their number were prodding among the weeds
and water in search of my body.
I remained in my concealment until they gave over the
search, and departed, yelling like so many fiends from a
hellish carnival, to their camp.


JOHN'S ALIVE.
89
CHAPTER VII.
.
John emerges from his concealment—Fever-Delirium-Insensibility
-Recovery-Despondency–Reviving influence of the brightening
dawn-Morning repast-A new feeling-His wanderings-Second
night in the wilderness-Dreams—The evening gun-Arrival at
the St. Johns-Joyful emotions on first reaching the army-Sur-
gical operation-Rule for estimating degrees of pain-Recovery-
Reflections upon the past-Reformation resolved upon-- Return to
Philadelphia.
:
THE moon had risen high in the heavens ere I ventured
to emerge from my uncomfortable concealment. I was
chilled to the very vitals, and a cold shudder ran over my
whole frame as I attempted to drag my stiffened limbs along
the beach. Fearing that the Indians might possibly be
lurking in the vicinity I determined to lose no time in quit-
ting the place which had been the scene of so much horror,
and if possible to reach some spot of greater safety. But
my limbs refused to perform their office, and I sank down
upon the ground, shivering and cold, unable to proceed.
The wound in my breast commenced to bleed afresh, and
soon a burning fever seized me, and I crawled to the beach
to quench my parching thirst. A dimness came over my
eyes, accompanied by a dreadful nausea. My head became
dizzy, and lake, ground, trees and bushes wheeled round
and round till darkness shut them out from my view.


90
MAJOR JONES.
The tall pines threw their lengthened shadows far over
the moonlit lake, and their tops tossed to and fro in the
chill wind with a sullen roaring sound when I rose from
the cold earth. Ragged white clouds were passing swiftly
overhead, and occasional gusts of wind startled me as they
rustled the leaves and bushes at intervals. How long I
had lain there I could not tell, but it was evident from the
position of the moon that many hours had passed during
my unconscious slumber. With difficulty I regained my
feet, and binding my handkerchief as well as I could upon
the frightful wound in my breast I again essayed to leave
the spot. Slowly and stealthily I plodded my way along
the lonely beach until I reached the extremity of the lake,
then striking into the woods I travelled on, unconscious of
the course I was pursuing, until I reached a small thicket,
into which I turned and sat me down to rest.
I suffered excessively both from loss of blood and hun-
ger, and I sank back against the trunk of a tree, where I
hoped I might die in peace. Filled with the most despond-
ing thoughts I sat out the dark hour which preceded the
approaching day; but when the streaks of amber light
began to ascend the east, and shortly after, when the glo-
rious sun sent up his cheering rays, dispersing the gloomy
shadows of the night and tinging the dewy leaves with
gold, while the hymn of nature rose upon the morning
breeze from every glittering spray, imparting life and ani-
mation to the scene, my subdued and broken spirit seemed


JOHN'S ALIVE.
91
to take its hue from the brightening prospect, and I remem-
bered that " while there is life there is hope.”
My first business was to obtain something wherewith to
satisfy my craving appetite. With my large knife I was
enabled to procure an abundant supply of palmetto and
other nutritious roots, upon which, and a few crawfish, I
made a hearty meal. By this time my wounds began to be
very sore, and on examination I found I had received other
slight injuries besides those in my breast and thigh. But
having partaken of a hearty meal, I soon felt sensible of my
returning strength, and though but illy calculated in my
crippled condition to survive a journey through the wilder-
ness, much less to combat the foe which surrounded me on
every side, I was encouraged by the past to hope for the
future. I felt that my destiny was in the hands of an
overruling Providence, to whom I was alone indebted for
the preservation of my unprofitable life. What dangers
had I not passed, and what hand but that of Omnipotence
could have preserved me amid the perils of the past few
days ? A strange feeling sprang up in my breast, and, un-
worthy as I was, I breathed a fervent aspiration to Him,
who, in much mercy, had permitted me to live to repent of
the past, and who I trusted, with an abiding faith, would
again restore me to my pious mother, that I might repair in
some degree the wrong I had done her.
With slow and cautious steps I again resumed my
way, ever hoping that the next hour would bring me either


92
MAJOR JONES.
a
to the camp I had left, to some of the numerous military
posts, or to some settlement of the whites. But night
again closed around me in the lonely wilderness. By the
bright moonlight I wandered on, until I came to a public
road. Whither it led I knew not, but that it would direct
me to some settlement I was certain, and taking one end,
I determined to travel as long as my strength would per-
mit, or until I reached some place of safety. The moon
had nearly gone down ere I sought a place of rest. Turn-
ing into a thicket at some little distance from the road, I
gathered a pallet of moss and laid me down to rest, but
not to sleep, unless that condition when one is half sleeping
and half waking, startled at intervals by horrid visions,
might be called sleep.
Various and strange were the visions shadowed forth
upon my sleeping senses, as I lay on the moss-bed in the
dark and solemn woods. Now I stood by the gushing
fountains of Fairmount--the gardens were illuminated
with lamps of transcendent brightness—the gravelled
walks were filled with gay throngs of people—delicious
viands were spread around-soft music floated upon the
breeze—the song and dance were there, and joyous faces
greeted me on every side-but, oh, vision of loveliness!
Mary hung upon my arm, and the rich melody of her
voice poured its enchantment on my ear, in accents of
love.
The illusion passed. I stood beneath
the brilliant chandeliers of the gay saloon-my sisters, my


JOHN'S ALIVE.
93
friends were there—'twas a joyous company, but I was not
happy—there was one that looked coldly upon me-I
gazed upon her as she passed me with averted face-she
leaned upon the arm of Thaw, who bent upon me a smile
of triumph. I left the ball, and the gay assemblage to
meditate alone.
Again the scene was changed.
.. I was stretched upon a sick-bed-my mother's
soft, melancholy eyes were bent upon me-she called my
name, but I could not speak-a shroud lay upon the table,
and I knew that I was dying.
Then the din of
battle, the peal of arms and the shout of the foe burst upon
my ear—I had fallen, and I was crushed to the earth be-
neath horses' feet, but could not call for aid. .... The
battle ceased, and the vision passed from the magic mirror
of my fancy. I knew that I was upon my moss-bed
-it was bright moonlight, and I cast my eyes around upon
the leaves and bushes—a footfall attracted my attention-
I listened—it surely was no dream—low voices whispered
together, and then a swarthy Indian approached—behind
him were many more. With stealthy step he drew near-
his eyes glared with demoniacal fury--his hideous face was
besmeared with gore-a bloody knife was in his hand, and
clots of blood hung from his shaggy scalp-lock. I would
have fled but could not I would have plead for mercy but
my tongue was paralyzed. Brandishing his bloody knife,
he hovered over me, 'till, frozen with terror, I gasped for
breath. He bore me to the earth—his knee was upon my


94
MAJOR JONES.
breast with one fiendish yell he plunged his knife deep in
my side. . . . . I awoke—just as an owl, that had perched
:
itself upon a tree above my head, sent forth its wild, start-
ling hoot. I was lying upon my back, trembling in every
joint, while the cold perspiration stood in large drops upon
my face. I turned upon my side and drew the moss about
me, but when I again lost the sense of pain in sleep, it was
only to allow my mind still wilder vagaries in the world of
dreams.
At early dawn I resumed my journey. I had not pro-
ceeded far, however, when I discovered numerous moccasin
tracks in the sand, and several strange and uncouth figures,
which appeared freshly made. As these indicated the pres-
ence of Indians, I resolved to leave the road for fear they
might pursue my tracks, if they did not meet me on the
way. Striking again into the woods, I kept a constant
lookout for Indians as I travelled on, occasionally pausing
to rest, or to fill myself with the sparkle-berries and baws,
which I found in great abundance. Night again began to
close around me, still in the lonely wilderness. My wounds
had become exceedingly painful, and I began to fear that
I would be unable to proceed farther. As the sun was
sinking beneath the horizon, and the sombre shadows be-
gan to dissolve into darkness, I laid me down upon my
rude couch. My mind was oppressed with the awful thought
of the sad death that awaited me, alone, in that desolate
place, and my heart was full of melancholy forebodings,


JOHN'S ALIVE.
95
when the distant report of the evening gun broke joyfully
upon my ear. Words will not express the joyful emotions
of my breast, as I listened to the deep reverberating sound,
as it rolled along through the echoing valleys, until hushed
in the stillness of the solitude that reigned around. I was
overcome with joy-not wild, ecstatic joy-but a calm, holy
feeling of gratitude, such as I had never experienced before,
made me happy in the prospect of approaching relief and
safety; and a tear stole down my haggard cheek as I caught
the familiar notes of the tattoo, that came faintly upon
the breeze as if to assure my hope. . Marking well the direc-
tion of the sound, I soon sank into refreshing sleep, regard-
less of my physical pain, now that my mental agony was
in a measure abated.
With the early dawn I rose and pursued my journey.
My progress was necessarily slow, owing to my crippled
condition and exhausted strength, and it was towards even-
ing when I reached the margin of a large river, down which
I determined to proceed until I should intersect the road,
at which point I confidently expected to find the fort whose
gun I had heard the preceding evening. Au hour's walk
brought me in sight of the “flaunting stars and stripes,”
floating proudly over what I afterwards learned to the pine
pickets of Picolata, on the opposite side of the river. On
arriving at the junction of the road, I found a large body
of troops encamped, preparatory to their departure for Fort
Drane. I was too much overcome by the intensity of my
а


96
MAJOR JONES.
!
feelings to answer satisfactorily any of the many questions
that were eagerly pressed upon me by the deeply sympa-
thizing and astonished group that gathered around me. I
was soon conveyed to a tent, where I gave vent to my joy
and gratitude in a flood of tears, while from my inmost
heart went up the first offering of praise and thanks that I
had ever raised to the throne of mercy.
Such was the swollen and inflamed condition of my
wounds that I was immediately sent across the river to Pic-
olata, where I was put in care of the surgeon, who pro-
ceeded to dress them, and as well as his facilities would
allow, to administer to my relief and comfort.
On the following day, I was subjected to a painful sur-
gical operation, the pain of which exceeded all the suffering
of my past life. A rifle-ball had passed round from my
breast and lodged underneath my shoulder-blade, which it
became necessary to extract in order to heal the wound.
My whole arm was exceedingly swollen, and my shoulder
and back in the vicinity of the wound were inflamed to
such a degree that the slightest pressure upon the surface
caused the most acute pain.
I will not attempt to describe to the studer the excru-
ciating agony which I was compelled to undergo while un-
der the hands of the operator. Those whose stoical patience
has enabled them to suffer the pangs of a throbbing tooth,
day after day, until the whole face has become swollen and
inflamed, before they could summon courage enough to ap-
1
!
!


JOIN'S ALIVE.
, 97
ply “the rightful remedy”—the dentist's forceps—and
whose eyeballs have started from their sockets as they felt
the knife rattling over their gums with as much freedom as
if the operator were opening an oyster, can form a slight
idea, a faint conception of my suffering, by basing their
calculation upon a just scale of proportion; or, in other
words, by the rule of simple multiplication, taking the in-
flamed gum for the multiplicand, and my lacerated shoul-
der and back for the multiplier.
I will spare the reader the revolting scene of an army
hospital, and pass over the time of my sojourn at Pico-
lata as bastily as possible. For many long weeks I was
confined to my rude camp-bed, while my ears were filled
with the imprecations and groans of the miserable tenants
of that horrible abode, and not unfrequently were my eyes
greeted with the unsightly spectacle of some mutilated and
ghastly corpse as it was borne unco
ziously to its grave.
The conviction that I too wou n be conveyed to my
final resting-place had settled upon my mind, and such was
my desire to undeceive my family and friends that, had there
been any one a?
my attendants who seemed capable of
sympathy for ne or commiseration for my fault, I should
have made myself known to him, and have relieved my
conscience from the painful secret which had so long rankled
in my bosom.
.
At length my wounds began to beal, and the chills and
fever, with which I had been attacked since my arrival at
7


98
MAJOR JONES.
Picolata, began to yield to medical treatment. As I grad-
ually recovered my strength I resolved, let the consequences
be what they might, that so soon as I was able I would re-
turn to my home, where I might once more enjoy the friend-
ship and sympathy of my friends. Often, after I had suf-
ficiently recovered to leave my room, would I totter down
to the bank of the beautiful St. John's, and seated by the
water's edge, meditate upon the past and resolve for the
future. I found it impossible to trace my misfortunes to
any other source than to my own reckless, wayward, in-
domitable temper. My selfish jealousy had been the cause
of my original despondency, and my thoughtless impetu-
osity of temper, which had always urged me to extremities
in almost every act of my life, had plunged me into the
bitter deeps of misery which had succeeded. My spirit was
subdued. I ha : 'ong enough upon the husks of adver-
sity, and, like the
of old, was ready and willing
to direct my steps ho.. 3, where, if I had not a father
to meet and forgive me, 1 elt there were those who would
gladly welcome me back to life, and without whose forgive-
ness life was valueless and death tenfold more terrible.
The term had expired for which I had enlisted, and I.
was discharged from the service, with several other volun-
teers from Georgia and Carolina, with whom I left Pico-
lata for St. Augustine, in order to take the packet from that
place to Charleston. On my arrival at the latter place I
lcst no time in procuring a passage to Philadelphia. After
1
1
1
1


JOHN'S ALIVE.
99
a very short passage, during which nothing of interest
transpired, our good brig entered the capes, and passing up
the noble Delaware with a fair wind and favoring tide, we
met with no delay, and on the afternoon of the second day
Philadelphia with her lofty towers and steeples lay spread
out before us.
I cannot describe the sensation produced in my mind on
once more beholding the familiar objects of my youth. A
thousand joyous recollections were revived and a thousand
bright anticipations created as my eyes rested upon the
scenes of past pleasures. What would I not have given
could I have greeted the many familiar faces that met me
on the wharf? But I had resolved first to ascertain how
matters stood before I ventured to make myself knowr.
even to my own family. It was towards evening when I
sprang upon the wharf. Nearly all té
Jall pittance of a
soldier's three months' pay was gone. I had no baggage,
and with a light heart and yet lighter pocket I found my-
self once more upon my native soil, within a few days of
two years after my supposed suicide.


100
MAJOR JONES.
CHAPTER VIII.
John determines to reconnoitre before venturing to make himself
known-Ascertains that his family are all still living—Visits
Mary's residence-Discovers his old rival in the act of pressing
his suit—The ghost acts an important part—Mr. Thaw's encounter
with the ghost-His discomfiture.
1
My first impulse was to ascertain whether my family
were still all living, and such was my anxiety to be assured
that my poor old mother had not fallen a victim to my
rash and wicked deception, that I was on the point of bas-
tening to her residence, and if she was still alive, to throw
myself at her feet, confess and explain all, and implore her
forgiveness. But she was a firm believer in the super-
natural, and entertained such a dread of ghosts and appa-
ritions, that I was sure that the reappearance of her own
dear son, unless previously prepared for it, would be a
greater trial for her than his sudden and melancholy exit.
Almost mechanically my feet carried me to the door of
my once happy home. But I dared not to enter. For
some time I paced up and down the sidewalk in front
of the house. A strange gentleman entered the house,
and shortly after reappeared with my two sisters;
a feeling of deepest contrition sent the blood to my
temples as I noticed that they were dressed in second
mourning, doubtless for me. The windows of the parlor


JOAN'S ALIVE.
101
were hoisted; and as my sisters stepped into the street, I
saw my mother's head thrust out.
“Take your shawls,
girls,” said she in a voice that harrowed up a flood of tender
recollections, “it will be chilly when you return.” I was too
much elated to hear the reply and hastened away, leaving
my sisters and their gallant in conversation with my
mother, happy in the assurance that death had not en-
tered my home during my absence; and now a new hope
revived within me that all might yet be well.
My next anxiety was to ascertain whether Mary, for
whom I now felt the tenderest regard springing up in my
bosom, still survived. I soon found myself in the vicinity
of her residence, and after passing to and fro before it for
some time, I ventured, when no one might observe my
movements, to steal a glance within. There was the little
parlor, the scene of so many pleasant recollections, where
I had passed so many happy hours with her whose every
smile had shed a ray of joy upon my soul, and whose every
tone was music to my ears; but it was desolate. Could it
be possible that she was dead? Or was she worse than
dead, --married to another? The thought was maddening,
--and though I felt that I deserved no better fate, yet the
uncontrolled grief which she had manifested at my funeral
encouraged me to hope that there were no grounds for my
latter suspicion, and that if she was still living, she would
forgive and yet be mine.
With these reflections I left the spot, with the determina-


102
MAJOR JONES.
!
1
tion of again returning at a later hour, to make further in-
vestigations. Occasionally passing the house to observe
whether there was yet a light in the parlor, I continued
my rambles through familiar scenes, until at length my
attention was arrested by a tall gentleman, who entered the
house over which I was keeping such faithful vigil. A
light soon shone from the parlor window, and I approached
with the hope of satisfying my curiosity on a subject which
increased in interest the longer I was kept in suspense.
Stepping lightly upon the little veranda which extended
along the whole front of the building, I cautiously ap-
proached the window and looked in. A tremor ran through
my whole frame, and I could almost hear the violent throbs
of my heart as I beheld, seated near the centre-table, my
own angelic Mary, lovelier far than ever, and, like my sis-
ters, still in her mourning weeds. The gentleman whom I
had seen enter sat with his back towards me, a little dis-
tance from her, with whom she was engaged in conversation.
“Will you never,” said he, "give over wasting your
thoughts upon that hair-brained fellow ?” "
My breath was suspended as I waited for her answer.
“I beg,” replied Mary, “ that you will drop the subject.
I have often intimated to you that my affections were not
in my power to bestow, which I should think would leave
you without motive for recurring to a matter which must
ever remain a source of sorrow to me."
My breath came free again.
!
>


JOAN'S ALIVE.
103
“Cruel girl !” exclaimed the exquisitely dressed spark, as
he sprang upon his knee in a real stage attitude, “will you
never relent? Will you not renounce one dead, who, when
living, was unworthy your love, and by bestowing your
affections upon one who can appreciate the inestimable
treasure, and whose love for you has no bounds—will you,
dearest Mary—"
“Say no more, and do get up, Mr. Thaw."
Thaw! I could hear no more. My first thought, when
I heard that hated name, was to massacre him upon the
spot. But my better judgment triumphed for once, and I
contented myself by compressing my clenched fists until
the blood started to the surface. I could not listen longer,
and I determined to break up the courtship for that night
at least. I resolved to bring supernatural power to my aid,
and if possible to bluff off my rival by haunting the prem-
ises. What horrible noise should I make that would
sound ghost-like was my next study. I recollected that
several years before, when quite young, as Mary and my-
self were passing down Arch Street, we discovered an old
sailor lying drunk in the gutter. As we approached him I
remarked to her that he was dead, and that the body-
spatchers would be apt to get him, on which the old fellow
raised his head as well as he could, and shouted, in a most
a
· ludicrous tone: “John's alive! John's alive!” as loud as
he could hollow until we were out of hearing. There was
nothing in the incident, but the exclamation afterwards be-


104
MAJOR JONES.
came a byword with us, and often, when I had stolen upon
her, I had startled her by a tap upon the shoulder, at the
same time that I exclaimed in her ear: “ John's alive!” I
was assured that she would at once recognize my voice and
our old byword, which she knew was only known to our-
selves, and which no doubt she had last heard from my lips.
Mr. Thaw still refused to rise, and persisted in doing the
impassioned lover before the mortified girl in a truly dra-
matic style, while she begged and entreated him not to
act so.
“I care not,” he continued,“ though you frown upon me
and repulse me a thousand times; I would not yield to such
a rival when living, much less when dead. I'll—”
“Do get up, Mr. Thaw, and do not act so foolish,” inter-
rupted Mary, endeavoring to withdraw her hand, which he
had grasped and was conveying to his lips.
“I will not rise from your feet. No power shall move
me hence until you promise me that,”
“ John's alive!” I exclaimed in a hollow voice.
“What's that ?” gasped the startled Thaw, springing to
his feet.
“It is he !—it's his ghost !” cried the fainting girl, as
she fell back in her chair with a frantic scream.
My object was attained, and I suddenly decamped, leav-
ing the frightened couple to their reflections, while I wended
my way to an obscure lodging, where I intended to remain
a


JOHN'S ALIVE.
105
until I could devise some plan of making myself known to
my friends.
On the following day the ghost story was current among
the gossips of the neighborhood. Various exaggerated ac-
counts of the affair were in circulation, but all the old ladies
agreed as to my identity, and pronounced it nothing more
than right that the cruel authors of my untimely death
should be visited by my spirit. I liked the turn the mat-
ter had taken, and hoped by keeping up my ghostly visits
to drive my hated rival from the field, though I was not
without some qualms of conscience when I thought of the
distress which my scheme would necessarily inflict upon
Mary, against whom I no longer felt any resentment, since
I was now well assured that she remained true to her plighted
faith. Indeed it required some effort to overcome my mis-
givings on this subject. But such was my implacable ha-
tred to Thaw, and so strong was my desire to consummate
my revenge for the suffering he had caused me that I could
not forego the opportunity afforded me of annoying him,
even at the severe cost of her for whom I now entertained
sentiments of regard equally devoted and sincere, if not so
ardent and intense, as my first fond delirium of love.
Accordingly, on the following night I determined to do
the ghost to perfection, and prepared to “ dress for the char-
acter,” by taking a sheet from my bed.
As I anticipated, I found Thaw in attendance, offering
his condolence to my poor terrified Mary, and endeavoring


106
MAJOR JONES.
1
to persuade her that it was all a hoax, attempted to be prac-
ticed upon him by some of his mischievous acquaintances.
After listening some time, I placed myself full before the
window, and when he asked her what reason she had for
thinking that it was my ghost, and she replied, “Because
it said,"
“ John's alive!” I exclaimed, in the same hollow tone,
as I strode past the window.
“There it is again !” in a faint voice from Mary, and a
loud “Ugh!" from Thaw, as he caught a glimpse of my re-
tiring form, was all I had time to hear.
Suddenly depositing the sheet out of sight, I hastened
from the place; but before I turned the corner, I noticed
that my example had been speedily followed by Mr. Thaw.
I had succeeded too well to abandon my project, and I
determined to watch my opportunity, and whenever I could
do so with safety, to give them a call.
On the following night I observed a light in the parlor
rather earlier than usual, and so soon as I conceived that I
would be free from interruption from persons passing in the
street, with my eyes and lips well smeared with burnt cork,
my face well powdered, and my sheet as before, I stepped
lightly upon the porch and stole a look in at the window.
Two or three of Mary's acquaintances were sitting with her,
and the idea occurred to me that they were watching for the
ghost. Though Thaw was not there, I did not like to dis-
appoint them, and passing slowly past the window, I ex-
a






“I grasped him by the ankles and ... tossed him
into the street."
(108)


JOHN'S ALIVE.
109
my usual
claimed as before, “John's alive!" One universal scream
came from the inmates of the parlor, and as I turned to
leave, a heavy missile whizzed past me, just grazing my side,
and passing through the railing in my rear, carried away
two or three pieces by its force. On raising my eyes in the
direction from which it came, I beheld my rival coming full
tilt to meet me.
What was to be done? If I attempted to
escape into the street, the hue-and-cry which he might raise
would certainly cause my detection. With
pres-
ence of mind, I stood motionless and still, until my assail-
ant was about to clutch me in his grasp, then dropping
suddenly down, I grasped him by the ankles and tossed
him, partly by main strength, and partly by aid of his own
impetus, far over my head into the street; and in less than
three seconds from the moment I first discovered him, was
again in the street. To remove all signs of the cork and
powder was but the work of a moment, and by the time a
crowd had been collected by Thaw's groans, and the screams
of the women, I was mingling with the astonished and in-
quisitive spectators.
“ Are you much hurt, sir?" inquired one, of the bewildered
Thaw.
Oh, it's a ghost!” gasped he, with his first breath, as
he rose from the pavement, against which his head and
shoulders had come in rather unpleasant contact.
“Yes, indeed,” said a little girl, who held a lamp in her
a
"


110
MAJOR JONES.
>
hand, "for we saw it, and it said 'John's alive,' as plain as
anything."
“Oh! yes, we all saw it, and heard it too,” exclaimed
several of those standing upon the porch.
“Did you see it, sir ?" I inquired very earnestly of Mr.
Thaw, who stood trembling in every joint and deadly pale.
“I was watching for it,” he replied, as the crowd gath-
ered round him," but did not see it until I heard it speak.
On hearing it I rose up and threw a brickbat at it, which
passed right through the shadow, but it never moved. Still
thinking it might be somebody I rushed towards it, and
just as I was about to take hold of it it vanished, and I
knew no more until I found myself on the bricks here,
dreadfully stunned.”
“They say it is werry dangerous to take hold of a spirit,"
said a little duck-legged man, with eyes like saucers.
“To be sure it is,” replied a tall, broken-nosed Irishman,
“for didn't Michael McCracken get four of his ribs broke
by thrying to lay hould iv one that was walking off wid
the only parr of throusers he had in the world ?”
"Is it possible!” exclaimed the little man, casting a most
credulous gaze into the speaker's face.
“ To be sure it is,” replied the other, “for didn't Mike til
me himself the nixt mornin' whin I wint to see him, and
the docther was puttin' things to rights wid him ?”
“ When did that happen ?” asked one. “ Was it this
same ghost ?”


JOHN'S ALIVE.
111
“Oh, no; this was a fortnight ago, come Sathurday
night, that Mike seed the ghost. It's abed he was, in his
own house, sleepin' as harmless as a suckin' peg, whin he
heard somethin' sneeze like. W o's thur?' sis he, and he
seed somethin' white at the fut iv his bed. I'll be betther
'
"
acquainted wid ye, my lark,' sis Mike, and wid that he
thurned out. "Who are ye?' sis he. “I'm a spirit, Michael
McCracken,' sis the ghost. "The divil ye are,' sis Mike,
,
not belaving a word iv it. "Whisht ! sis the ghost as it
jerked past him widout touchin' the floor. But Mike had
a dhrop in his head, and wasn't afeard of the divel, so he
wint to take hould iv the sperit, whin it vanished like a
snuff, and poor Mike knowed no more till he found him-
self on the floor in the mornin' wid four ov his ribs broke
and his throusers and the very shate off the bed was mis-
sin'."
Mercy on us !" groaned the little man.
There were some doubts expressed by the crowd as to the
genuineness of Michael's ghost; but there were too many
witnesses to testify to the appearance of the one which had
used Mr. Thaw so roughly to leave any doubt upon the
subject.
“It is now two years since the man drowned himself, I
believe ?" said one.
“ Yes, and this is the third time he has appeared since
Miss Carson came from the country.”
There must be something wrong, or his troubled spirit
1


112
MAJOR JONES.
a
would not walk the earth o' nights in this way,” said the
little man, who turned to each speaker, and seemed anxious
,
to hear every word that was uttered in relation to the affair.
“It's very singular-very singular, indeed,” said the
wondering crowd.
Mr. Thaw made a brief examination of his bruised cra-
nium, upon which he discovered several prominent devel-
opments that were not there before, adjusted his battered
beaver as well as he could, and went limping home, per-
fectly satisfied that he had encountered a spirit from the
other world.
"Well,” thought I, as I left the astonished crowd, still
pressing their inquiries concerning the mysterious appari-
tion, and discussing ghost stories in general, “if my dis-
comfited rival does not now raise the siege, then he is indeed
proof against ghosts."
92


JOHN'S ALIVE.
113
CHAPTER IX.
>
John begins to apprehend that he is carrying the joke too far-Seeks
an interview with an old friend—With difficulty establishes his
own identity, and engages him to prepare his family for his recep-
tion—The meeting-Convinces Mary that he is no ghost-Dis-
covers a new relative-The wedding day appointed-Two grooms
to one bride—The wedding-The ghost again—The astonished
parson—The explanation—The consummation-The end.
On the following morning the penny papers blazoned
forth the full details of the ghost story. The affair had
.
created a considerable sensation among the credulous and
marvel-loving portion of the community, and I began to
fear that I was again making Philadelphia too hot for me
to use a homely but very significant expression_should I
by any mischance be discovered. My vindictive spirit had
.
been somewhat appeased by the discomfiture of Mr. Thaw,
and upon reflection, I determined to discontinue my ghostly
visits, ere I should have fallen into my old error of carry-
ing my jokes too far, if I had not done so already.
I was now extremely anxious to make myself known to
Mary and my family, and seriously meditated how I should
again come to life without frightening them all out of their
wits. I resolved to seek an old friend and schoolmate,
who had in days past been my confidant, and make him
the mediator between the dead and living. I found him
8


114
MAJOR JONES.
at his law-office-he had married since he attended my
funeral, but was the same frank, courteous fellow that
I left two years before. I found it no easy matter to broach
the subject to him, notwithstanding. Requesting a pri-
vate conversation with him, I declared myself, but it
was not until I had narrated to him all the circum-
stances of my singular adventures, and recalled to his
mind several circumstances connected with our past lives,
that he seemed willing to acknowledge me; and though
the hearty grip of the band which I gave him when
I enjoined him to secrecy to all but my family and
Mary, could not bnt convince him that he was conversing
with flesh and blood, he seemed to recoil from me as if still
unconvinced, so long and firm had been bis conviction of
my death. After gently reproaching me for my conduct,
and being cordially assured of my full repentance, he took
a professional view of the matter, and consented without
fee to become my counsellor and attorney. I desired him
to prepare my mother and sisters for my reception on the
following day, and to have Mary one of the party. He
promised to do so, and we parted to meet at ten in the
morning
Agreeably to appointment, I found my friend at his
office, who informed me that my family were nearly frantic
with joy at the news of my return, and that Mary was so
exceedingly happy to learn that her John was indeed
alive, and that I was ready and willing to forgive her


JOAN'S ALIVE.
115
а.
a
for all the suffering she had caused me, that she had
been in a state of almost hysterical mirth ever since he had
broken the matter to her.
It was a joyous meeting when I embraced my foud old
mother and affectionate sisters--who all gave vent to their
overjoyed hearts in a flood of tears. Mary colored to the
temples as she approached in her turn. “John's alive!” I
exclaimed, as I sprang forward and impressed a kiss upon
her lips. “That's no ghost,” said she, as she turned blush-
ing away. Next came the strange gentleman whom I had
seen with my sisters on the first day of my arrival. He
was introduced to me as my brother-in-law. He had been
married to my eldest sister only a few weeks, and was
shortly to return to the South, his place of nativity.
After the first tumultuous greeting, I was compelled to
detail the events of my life since my mysterious departure,
which elicited many a tear, and many an exclamation of
wonder from the intensely interested and sympathizing
listeners. After dinner I drew Mary to the sofa, where, un-
interrupted, we recounted all that had passed, and con-
versed seriously and rationally of the future. I found her
all my heart could wish—fond, generous, and forgiving-
and I regarded her as a rich treasure, the possession of
which would abundantly compensate for all my past suf-
ferings.
From her I learned the sad history of her own sufferings
during my absence, and though the recital pained me, and


116
MAJOR JONES.
а
caused me to execrate my past conduct, yet I could not but
feel a degree of gratification at the evidence of her unalter-
able attachment. She had spent most of her time in the
country, and had returned with my youngest sister from
Northumberland only a few weeks previous to my arrival
in Philadelphia. Though Thaw had been importunate and
annoying to her at a time when she refused to see any com-
pany, he had lost sight of her shortly after my funeral, and
,
had only had an opportunity of forcing his society upon
her since her return from the country. “ And," she con-
cluded, with a smile, “I do hope the fall he got the other
night has effectually abated the ardor of his attachment.”
It was evident to all that it would be impossible for me
again to make Philadelphia my home, and that I would be
incurring a great risk by even permitting it to be generally
known that I was still living. I could not expect to make
reparation to the family, the sanctity of whose vault I had
violated, and should it be discovered that my suicide was
but a hoax, curiosity would be immediately excited to know
who had been taken from the river and buried in my stead.
Besides, the notoriety which my recent exploits were calcu-
lated to give me, when it should be found out that Mr.
Thaw's ghost was no other than myself, was calculated to
disturb my quiet, if not to derogate from my standing in
society.
My brother-in-law, who was a young physician, suggested
that I should accompany him to the South, which I con-


JOHN'S ALIVE.
117
a
sented to do, on condition that Mary would make one of
the party. This proposition met the approbation of my
mother and sisters, and to crown my wishes, Mary readily
yielded to my proposal of a speedy marriage; and all was
arranged for the consummation of our happiness. The day
was appointed for our wedding, which was to be conducted
with as much privacy as possible, on that day week, at
which time my brother-in-law would be ready for his de-
parture. In the meantime I kept within doors, only ven-
turing into the street at night, and then carefully avoiding
observation. I saw Mary frequently, who assured me that
her family were perfectly reconciled to our union, since the
explanations which I had given them of my past conduct,
and the assurances of my thorough reformation. During the
intervening week, Mary informed me, much to my surprise,
that Mr. Thaw had recovered from his fright, and had
again urged his pretensions to her hand. I still entertained
a desire to complete my revenge upon him, whose impor-
tunities it seemed no denial or entreaties could dissuade;
and now an idea occurred to me, which, if I could secure
the co-operation of Mary, would cap the climax of the
whole affair. After much persuasion, I succeeded in in-
ducing Mary to become an accomplice in the execution of
my design, which I urged would be a just retaliation for
the annoyance he had been to me, and a fit reward for his
pertinacity in thus pressing his suit against her known
wishes. It was accordingly arranged that she should accept
a


1
118
MAJOR JONES.
1
that gentleman's proffered hand, and appoint the following
Wednesday, the day designated for our own union, for the
wedding day, leaving the issue of the affair to me.
Matters being thus arranged there were now three of us
preparing for the wedding, Mr. Thaw, Mary, and myself.
The auspicious night approached. Thaw was in ecstasies,
and might be seen arm-in-arm with his groomsman, a fel-
low of his own kidney, sauntering up and down the street
as the dusk of evening approached and the gay company
began to assemble, almost incapable of suppressing his in-
effable delight. My sisters and brother-in-law were of
course invited. Early in the evening a considerable num-
ber of young persons were assembled, principally all the
personal friends of Mary and my sisters, who had invited
the company, Mr. Thaw being content only to bring his
groomsman. The parson had arrived, and everything was
in readiness, but before entering the parlor Mary assisted
me to dress the ghost in a superior style.
“There," said she, as she adjusted the bandage about my
jaws and smoothed down the folds of my long winding-
sheet, "you'll do for John's alive now.” Then shaking
her taper finger at me with an arch look, as she went to
join the company in the parlor, “Don't you fail to be there
in time. Remember, you must come when the parson says
"hoid their peace.
Never
you
fear. I'll be there. Tell sisters to scream
their best, and don't let the room be too light.”
"
66


JOHN'S ALIVE.
119
“My stars, John, how horrid you do look! I'm afraid
you'll scare the parson off too, and that'll spoil all.”
“No danger; he ain't afraid of ghosts. But if he goes
to run you must all catch hold of him."
Mary entered the parlor, and I took my post at the door,
where I might through the keyhole observe the movements
of the wedding party. The door was left slightly ajar, and
Mary took care that no one should be in the way to obstruct
its opening
Thaw was dressed in a long-tailed blue, with large metal
buttons, brimstone-colored pants and white satin vest, and
his long soap-locks, which had just then come into fashion,
were combed down over his lantern jaws, and glistened with
bear's oil and pomatum until they almost vied in lustre
with his glittering buttons. He sat in a fidget for some
time, devouring with his great sheep's eyes my modestly
attired Mary, whom he was about to lead before the parson.
Everything being in readiness the delighted groom led
forward his blushing bride. The good parson commenced
the ceremony of tying the matrimonial knot with all the
accustomed solemnity, while Thaw bent upon the assem-
blage a look of complacent satisfaction that spoke plainer
than words the joyous emotions of his heart on the eve of
such an auspicious event. There was a deathlike stillness
in the room.
The parson proceeded:
“If any have aught to say why this couple should not


120
MAJOR JONES.
be united in the holy bands of wedlock let them now speak,
or forever after hold their peace.”
"I forbid the bans !" I groaned in a solemn tone.
“Now, who's that ?” said Thaw in a voice that betrayed
at once his rage and trepidation, as he cast his eyes fearfully
over his shoulder, and amazement was depicted in every
face that met his view.
“ John's alive!” I exclaimed, as the door flew open as if
by magic, and I strode slowly into the room in my ghostly
attire.
A loud scream burst from the affrighted females. Mary
fell into my sister's arms, who screamed her prettiest.
Thaw, with the exclamation of “Lord preserve us !” in his
mouth, fell sprawling over his terrified groomsman, who
was endeavoring to make his way through the parson's legs
to the door. Even those who were in the secret shrunk in
the corners or hastened from the room, while the good par-
son stood with uplifted hands, the picture of astonishment
and wonder.
“I come to claim my bride!” I continued, as Thaw and
his man disappeared through the door. Then hastily di-
vesting myself of the white sheet in which I was envel-
oped, and removing the powder and cork from my face, I
commenced to apologize to the parson, who seemed even
more than ever amazed.
I beg your pardon, sir, for the interruption which my
strange and rather unceremonious appearance has occa-



를
​“ John's alive! I exclaimed, as the door flew open.” (121)


|


JOHN'S ALIVE.
123
sioned. I am very sorry that circumstances should have
rendered such a course necessary. I would be very loath,
indeed, to break up a wedding party, and rather than the
affair should prove a failure, with the lady's consent, I will
gladly supply the place of her absconded lover.”
The old gentleman started; but my sisters and Mary
coming to my aid, who were his personal acquaintances,
matters were soon adjusted, and the face of the good par-
son soon assumed its wonted calmness and benignity of ex-
pression.
“Well,” said he, with a long breath, “young people are
full of their tricks, but I never expected to be called upon
to marry a ghost."
Producing the license the ceremony proceeded without
further interruption, and John Smith and Mary Carson
were duly pronounced man and wife. Thaw left the city
in the night line for New York, having discovered that a
trick had been played off upon him, and with my happy
bride, in company with my brother and sister, I took my
departure on the following morning for the sunny South,
'where I am now settled, after all my hardships and adven-
tures, the happiest John alive !
>


1
H
1


GOING ASHORE.
Neat, trimly dress'd,
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin, new reap'd
Show'd like a stubble land at harvest-home;
He was perfumed like a milliner;
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held
A pouncet-box, which ever and anon
He gave his nose, and took 't away again.
KING HENRY IV.
Gon.-Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of
barren ground; long heath, brown furze, anything; the wills above be
done! but I would fain die a dry death.
TEMPEST.
READER, were you ever at sea ? If you were not, your
knowledge of the world, however extensive, is only partial.
A first voyage at sea is like an introduction into a new
world, which, in every respect, materially differs from that
we inhabit. The elements themselves are not more at va-
riance than are the customs, usages, and conventional forms
of maritime life, and those by which society is governed and
regulated on terra firma; and the dweller on dry land
finds himself not less at fault in his first intercourse with
(125)


126
MAJOR JONES.
a
the sons of Neptune, than would a finny inhabitant of the
world of waters, were be to find himself in the midst of a
reduction or commercial convention. It will be long ere I
forget the wonders that burst upon my astonished senses,
when, for the first time, I beheld the sun drowned in the
sea, and the broad arch of heaven resting upon its waters.
Perhaps they are rendered more vivid in my mind by the
recollection of an adventure which came nigh being the
closing scene of my career.
It was a bright, beautiful morning in the month of Sep-
tember, 1830, that our vessel neared the island of Key
West. Business of the most imperative nature demanded
that I should pay a visit to the island; and as the captain
had promised to touch at that port principally for my own
accommodation, and as the wind was unfavorable for mak-
ing the barbor, it was proposed that the jolly-boat be sent
ashore, while the vessel would “lie off and on," until our
return. Accordingly, the boat was got in readiness for the
.
voyage.
Among our passengers was a Mr. J. Theophilus Hill, of
New York, a Broadway exquisite of the first order. Mr.
J. Theophilus was about twenty-one years of age, of tall
,
stature, effeminate in appearance and manners, and possessed
about as small a stock of the commodity called common-
sense, as any other of the same kidney. From the lofty
proportions of his legs, and the almost total vacancy of his
garret story, one would have judged that he was born in


GOING ASHORE.
127
sense.
the “ decline of the moon,” which fact (if we may apply the
principle to the growth of such vegetables), would account
for his having run entirely to root. But it would be a waste
of time to attempt a particular description of Mr. Hill.
Suffice it to say, he was one of that class of petty aristocracy
s0 common in our large cities, and which are, of all
others, the most intolerable and disgusting to the man of
The aristocracy of Europe has something about it
to entitle it to the respect of those who have been reared
under those institutions, and whose national pride finds vent
in giving honor to the titled dignitaries of the land. The
aristocracy of learning and talent, in this or any other coun-
try, is justly entitled to and ever receives the deference of
those who are capable of appreciating the nobler attributes
of our nature. But the upstart clique, who style themselves
the first circle, and who lead the fashions and comprise the
ton of our large cities-springing as they have in many
instances, from a community of thrifty old tallow-chandlers
and soap-boilers, who, without education or refinement
themselves, knew not the importance of cultivating the
minds of their children-is, perhaps, the most contemptible
of all circles.
Mr. J. Theophilus was now, for the first time in his life,
absent from the city of his birth, and the circle of exquisite
fellows in whose society he had moved, and, as may
readily be supposed, manifested in his deportment all the
vanity and ignorance of a conceited coxcomb, which ren-
а.
-


128
MAJOR JONES.
dered him the butt not only of his fellow-passengers but
the crew.
The necessary arrangements were completed, and we
were about “coming in stays," as the sailors call it, in
order that the boat might be lowered from the davits,
when Mr. Theophilus issued from the cabin, dressed a la
bon ton, while the fumes of eau de Cologne, with which
his clothes were scented, -might have been "nosed” above
all the odors of tar and bilge-water.
“I say, capting! capting !” said he, in his shrill, small
voice, as he flourished a fine embroidered handkerchief -
about his countenance, “I believe I will make one of the
go-ashore party myself—eh, capting ?”
“ As you please, sir,” replied our courteous captain," but
I would advise you to remain, unless your business is
urgent. It's a long pull to that lighthouse, and the boat I
fear is leaky."
“Business !-my father retired from business five years
ago. I'm never bothered with business. I only wish to
see the natives. They must be rare creatures—eh, cap-
ting !-never seen New York, I s'pose—must be perfect
characters, split me!”
“If that is all," replied the captain, "you will be but
poorly paid for your trouble. The inhabitants of the isl-
and are civilized beings, and do not differ materially from
other citizens of the United States.”
1
1
1


GOING ASHORE.
129
“Eh, capting! what?—do you call them citizens of the
United States? Is Key West in the United States ?”
“It is an island belonging to our government."
“Is it?—well, if I hadn't forgot it, split me."
The lady passengers, of whom there were several, had
come on deck to see us off. Mr. Hill bowed and scraped,
and grinned for a moment, then resuming, he said:
“Besides, capting, I am dying for something good to
eat. I believe I shall perish before the end of our voyage.
I have not enjoyed a mouthful since I eat the last of the
preserves and cake which my dear ma put in my trunk, if
I have, split me. And, ladies”-continued he, running
his hand into his pocket and jingling some silver change
“I'll bring you something nice, depend upon it-some-
thing fit to eat, if it's to be had among the natives for
money, split me."
“I'm sorry, sir," said the captain, his face mantling as
he spoke, “I am sorry that my table”
“Ah, no apologies, capting—no apologies. No doubt
you have done your best, but, capting, you know it de-
pends a great deal how one's been raised. I have always
been accustomed to the very best, split me.
The ladies begged him not to expose his precious life for
their accommodation, assuring him that they were well sat-
isfied with the fare of our captain's table. To which Mr.
Hill replied :
“Oh, well, it's just as one's raised.”
>
»
>
>
9


130
MAJOR JONES.
a
!
1
1
The captain turned to him with a smile, and advised
him, if he desired to go, to change his clothes, reminding
him that his fine suit would suffer in such an expedition.
“What did you remark, capting ?” replied Mr. J. The-
ophilus, giving a look of pride at his “long-tail blue" and
shining broadcloth pants, which, as was the fashion in that
day, were tight at the knees and very wide at the bottom,
where they were neatly strapped down over a pair of fine
morocco boots.
“You had better put on some old clothes ; those will be
injured in that leaky boat.”
“Old clothes !” exclaimed Mr. J. Theophilus, with a
stare; "old clothes! Why, capting, I never had any old
clothes in my life.”
“Indeed !" replied the captain. “Do as you please, Mr.
Hill.”
“ All aboard !” said one of the sailors, as he dropped the
oars into the boat and prepared to “ lower away.”
“Good-by, ladies,” said Mr. Hill, as he crawled upon
the taffrail ; “don't be alarmed for my safety, my dear
creatures; there's no danger, and I'll bring you something
nice, if I don't, split me.”
A tip bucket was thrown into the boat. Two sailors, the
mate, myself, and Mr. Hill then took our places, and the
boat was lowered into the water. In the next moment we
were hid in the trough of the sea or setting lightly on the
curling caps of the waves, while the brig, with her sails


GOING ASHORE.
131
square set and right before the wind, was fast disappearing
from our view.
I took my station in the stern and grasped the tiller; the
mate took his post as pilot in the bow, and the sailors plied
the
oars,
while Mr. Hill occupied a middle seat. In the
confusion of getting our places we had not discovered the
leaky condition of the boat until we were nearly foundered
with water, which gushed in streams from every joint.
The oakum with which it had been caulked was forced out
in many places by the current, and such was the rapidity
with which the boat filled that even the mate became
alarmed and made signals of distress to the brig, which,
however, were unperceived by her crew. We were fast
sinking, and it became necessary to keep the boat in the
trough of the sea to prevent her going down imme-
diately.
“Oh, Lordy !” exclaimed Mr. H., “we're gone! Oh,
Lordy! What shall we do? I can't swim !”
“And if you could it would do you no good," said the
mate, as he gave over all hopes of attracting the attention
of the brig. “Our only chance is to keep the boat afloat
until her planks swell.”
“Dip, d-n it, dip!” said one of the sailors.
The bucket was floating between his legs. Mr. Hill
seized it with an “Oh, Lordy!" and essayed to bale out the
water.
“Dip, dandy, dip!” exclaimed the other, as he dropped


132
MAJOR JONES.
2
a
sea.
his oar, and prepared to do the same. “Dip, you dog, it's
neck or nothing now.”
“Oh, Lordy !" and the bucket flew faster and faster,
though scarce removing a pint of water at a time.
“ Hand it to me!" said the sailor.
“Oh, Lordy !" gasped Mr. Hill; then turning hastily
round to comply with the request, in a fit of nervous trepi-
dation he tumbled heels over head, bucket and all, into the
The rattle of the bucket as it struck the edge of the
boat, and a faint “Oh, Lordy!” from Mr. Hill, was suc-
ceeded by the cry of:
“ Man overboard !”
There was a slight bustle. In an instant the floating dandy
was fished
up,
but all efforts to recover the bucket were inef-
fectual. Mr. Hill looked like a wilted poppy as he seated
himself in the bottom of the boat, clinging convulsively to
the sides. His blooming ruffles were gone, his exquisitely
pointed shirt collar no longer maintained its erect position,
and his shining beaver, which had set so gracefully upon
the side of his head in the morning, was now the property
of covetous old Neptune. His face was pale, and his head
hung upon his shoulders. He was sick, and he heeded not
the dirty water as it swept fore and aft at every motion of
the sea, drenching him from head to foot. He had swal-
lowed a mouthful or two of sea-water, and such was the
refined sensibility of his stomach that it did not agree with
him. It was not wbat he had been “raised in.” For some
a
>



a
“A faint 'Oh Lordy!' from Mr. Hill was succeeded by
cry of man overboard !»»
(133)


1
1
1
1
|
1
1
.


GOING ASHORE.
135
time he sat in silence, and when he spoke his first question
was:
“Do you think it'll turn over again ?"
“ Take care you don't turn over again," was the reply.
“Oh, Lordy, if my dear ma only knew this,”
“What would she have done for you just now? I
think you'll stay aboard next time, and let the natives
alone.”
“Oh, Lordy! how sick I do feel !” said Mr. Hill, as the
salt water oozed from his thin, blue lips. “If ever I see
New York again I guess I'll not get into such another
scrape--if I do, split me !"
By this time the planks of the boat, which had been
rendered leaky by long exposure to the sun, had swollen
considerably, and we soon found, by the active application
of our hats, that we were gaining on the leak. So soon as
a sufficient quantity of water had been removed to render
the boat manageable, the sailors resumed their oars, and we
“ kept her away" for a reef of coral, which rose above the
water about a mile distant. Approaching the reef from the
leeward we ran the bow of the boat upon the crust of coral,
and having baled her as clear as possible, proceeded to caulk
the leaks with our handkerchiefs and such other articles of
clothing as might be spared. Mr. Hill was nearly crazed
at the prospect of escaping a watery grave. He chattered
like a magpie, and in the overflow of his zeal and magna-
nimity tore off a skirt of his “long-tail blue," and con-
a


136
MAJOR JONES.
1
1
tributed it to the common stock, declaring that if he was
in New York he could caulk the boat with bank bills.
Just as we were about to put to sea, we discovered a pilot-
boat bearing down for us under full sail. We were all
overjoyed at the prospect of relief, for we were much
fatigued, and Key West was still some eight or ten miles
distant.
While we were awaiting her approach, we were aroused
by a cry from Mr. Hill, who exclaimed, “Oh, Lordy!
I'm bit !—I'm poisoned ! Oh, Lordy!”
He had discovered a sea-egg, as they are called, lying
upon the coral, where the water was only a few inches
deep. Supposing it to be a soft substance, from the ap-
pearance given to it by the undulation of the waves, he
,
grasped it in his hand, when his fingers were severely
pierced by the sharp and spiral projections which sur-
rounded it, the points of which were polished and sharp
as needles. Several of the thorns had broken off in his
flesh, in order to extract which it became necessary that
Long Tom should perform a surgical operation, in which
he was not very expert, as his instruments were dull, and,
of course, gave his patient much pain.
“You mustn't try to rob old Nep's hen's-nest in that
way, Mr. Splice,” said Tom, as he wiped the blood from
his jack-knife, “ 'case you're sure to get cotch'd.”
"Oh, Lordy!”-roared Mr. Hill—“ if my dear ma only
knew-oh, how it aches!”
1
.
1
1


GOING ASHORE.
137
The pilot-boat took us aboard, and with our boat in tow,
soon landed us on the beach at Key West.
We need not remark that Mr. Hill was a subject of quite
as much curiosity to the natives, as he had supposed they
would be to him. As we made our way into the town, the
people stared at him; and his woebegone exterior, added
to his silly air and conceited bearing; made him still more
a subject of ridicule. Even the negroes turned to gaze as he
passed, and often were they heard to exclaim, “I reckon
dat man's done been racked.” But what most mortified
our hero was the fact that he did not find a man among the
natives that knew anything about the house of Vanderfelt
& Hill, though he found many who knew all about New
York.
It was towards evening when we set out for the brig,
which was now in sight, lying-to, to receive us. Our boat
had been thoroughly repaired, and as the men bent to the
oars, she skimmed through the waves with the velocity of
a bird. Our conversation naturally turned upon the events
of the day, and many a hearty laugh was enjoyed at the
expense of the unfortunate Mr. J. Theophilus, who took
no part in the hilarity of the hour, but sat sullen and mo-
rose, nursing his wounded hand, and, very probably,
weighing in his mind the value of the lesson he had
learned
It was a delightful evening. The fresh breeze fanned
our sunburnt faces, and the heavens displayed all the va-


138
MAJOR JONES.
riegated lights and colors of a southern sunset, as the fleecy
clouds, rolled up in interminable banks, like mountains of
snowy mist, caught and reflected in a thousand brilliant
hues the last rays of the declining orb of day. We soon
brought up alongside of our good brig, and shortly after I
sat upon her deck in the bright moonlight, listening to Mr.
Hill's account of the adventure, which he portrayed to the
ladies in the most thrilling detail. The sea-egg, in partic-
ular, was dwelt upon with especial emphasis. He had
never heard nor read of such eggs before, and he more
than once inquired of the sailors what kind of fowl they
belonged to. The trip ashore was a subject of amusement
for the crew during the remainder of the voyage.


RECOLLECTIONS
OF THE
FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
NUMBER ONE.
THE ALARM.
“ To arms! to arms !"
Gerald.-Why, the fellow's fears peopled every bush with lurking
foes, each rustling leaf sounded in his ear a dread alarm. No wonder
that he overrated thus his foe.
Burges.-Aye, but in the end his fright was turned to good account.
OLD PLAY.
It was on a bright, beautiful morning, such as is peculiar
to that romantic country, that the army of General Scott
lay encamped on the summit of an elevated piece of ground
in the vicinity of Fort Drane. Our forces had been con-
centrating for several days, preparatory to a decisive move-
ment against the enemy. Upwards of two thousand men
were busily engaged in burnishing up their arms, prepar-
ing provisions, and putting everything in readiness for the
march
(139)


140
MAJOR JONBS.
I was sitting in the shade of my tent, with some three
or four of my messmates, packing our knapsacks, and care-
fully dividing our rations of sugar and coffee, salt and pep-
per, which was to last us until our return from Tampa,
when the whole camp was suddenly aroused by the abrupt
appearance of a horseman, who came dashing up the hill,
shouting out: "Ingins ! Ingins !” at the top of his voice.
He was mounted upon a jaded nag, which, judging from
its bobbling gait and projecting ribs, had been on half-ra-
tions for the past month as well as ourselves, and as he
came galloping into camp, hat and coat off, hair flying, with
,
the harness and trace-chains dangling at his horse's feet, he
looked indeed the fit herald of approaching danger. None
who beheld him could doubt for a moment that he had seen
the Indians.
“Ingins ! Ingins !” he exclaimed, as his Rosinante
fetched up near the centre of the camp, "Ingins! Ingins!”
Then halting for breath he resumed : “Five hundred In-
gins right down here by my fence !"
“What?” “Where ?” inquired twenty voices.
“Why," said he, as the crowd gathered round in eager
anxiety, "I was ploughin' in my field, about a mile down
the road here, just now, and all at wonst I seed about fifty
Ingins in the edge of the bushes, close by the fence.”
“Oh, only fifty !” said one.
“I'll bet he only saw a bush shaken by the wind,” said
another.
a


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
141
“ Did they shoot at you ?"
“No; but they would a' kiln me no doubt if I'd let 'em
got close enough; but as soon as I seed em I unbitched
Darby and come here as hard as I could split.”
The officers, after a short consultation with the terrified
man, who still persisted in the assertion that there were at
least fifty Indians in the neighborhood of his field, ordered a
detachment of fifty men from the company of which I was
a member and about fifty regulars to be in readiness to
march in five minutes.
There was a hasty snatching of arms, and as we knew
that only fifty would be permitted to go, there was the
greatest competition to get into the line first. In less than
three minutes, the orderly commenced counting from the
right, and as he came to the fiftieth man in the line, he de-
sired the remainder to fall back.
“Oh! let me go, sergeant,” said half a dozen in the
most persuasive tone.
Only fifty is the order," replied the officer.
There were several disappointed faces on the left; but
the order was imperative. Some endeavored to exchange
places with those who had been more fortunate in getting
into the line; but not one could be induced to resign his
opportunity of getting "a pop at the Indians."
In less than ten minutes from the first alarm, the detach-
ment was on its way to the little plantation where the In-
dians were said to have been seen. The house was distant


142
MAJOR JONES.
1
.
from the fort about a mile, and was situated on the edge of
a small hummock, which extended to some distance on the
right and left of the little inclosure, in which our inform-
ant had been ploughing. After charging through and
scouring the hummock in the vicinity of the field, without
even discovering any signs of Indians, the detachment was
about to return, when it was proposed to examine another
part of the thicket some distance from the house. Accord-
ingly, leaving a small party of mounted men, who had ac-
companied us from the camp, to make farther investigation
upon the premises, we proceeded to the head of the hum-
mock. Our detail was divided into two detachments, one
of which--accompanied by the few friendly Indians who
bad been brought along as guides—moved up on the right
and the other upon the left of the hummock; while the
regulars, taking a circuit through the woods gained the
head of the thicket, and advanced into it, with a view of
routing the Indians, who, should they attempt escape, would
of a certainty come in contact with either one or the other
of our detachments, which were flanked out on either side,
so as not only to command the hummock, but the high
ground in the vicinity.
We had arrived at the designated point, formed in ex-
tended line, and were calmly awaiting the issue of events,
when, as I stood facing the hummock, I perceived some
object moving in the thicket. As I caught but a glimpse
of the body through the thick foliage, its color resembled
.


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
143
a
that of an Indian. A thrill of excitement ran through
every nerve, and just as I was about to raise my gun, the
object gave a sudden bound towards me, and the next mo-
ment my Indian was a deer, standing not twenty paces from
me, with head erect, presenting one of the fairest broadsides
that ever tempted the aim of the hunter. Davy Crockett!
what a fair shot! Who could have withstood the tempta-
tion! There it stood, perfectly unconscious of my presence
-spuffing the air with distended nostrils—while its body
stood out in bold relief from the trunk of a huge burnt live
oak in the rear Involuntarily, as if by instinct, my.
musket was brought to my face. Another moment and that
deer bad never left his tracks alive. But just as I was about
to pull the fatal trigger, a murmur broke upon my unwill-
ing ear,—“Don't fire! Pass the word not to fire!" was
uttered by fifty mouths. It came from the officer in com-
mand. Still I held my gun upon the deer, nor did I re-
move my finger from the trigger. In spite of orders, my
finger would pull; harder and harder it pressed upon the
trigger, till at length, taking alarm at the clamor
among
the men, who all seemed deeply interested in the fate of
the poor deer, and exceedingly fearful that I did not hear
the order, it bolted again into the thicket from whence it
had come.
“Goddess Diana !” thought I, as I brought my gun to
an order, “where were you then? Would that the antlers
of that deer were in the throat of the man who passed the


144
MAJOR JONES.
order not to fire.” But I was not permitted long to in-
dulge in this revery of disappointment and chagrin. A
minute had notelapsed before crack !-crack !-crack! came
the report of a dozen rifles from the centre of the thicket be-
fore us. Every eye was piercing into the thick hummock-
every man grasped closely his gun—while a deathlike still-
ness prevailed throughout the line. Every countenance
glowed with eager expectation, as they stood
a
“Like greyhounds in the slips,”
enemy was full
awaiting the onset. The next moment the
in view, and the terrific war-whoop!- did not burst upon
our ears; but the same buek, which had so tempted my
discipline but a minute before, with his white ensign flying,
came dashing from the thicket. Poor deer! he had found
the friendly Indians on the other side less formal than us,
and having received a broadside from them, had returned
to our side. As he reappeared, however, he met with a
far different reception. Coming out above me, the man
nearest him fired; the deer turned up the line, with his white
tail spread to the breeze; he darted like lightning past, under
the fire of the whole line. •Shot after shot missed, until,
near the head of the line, he encountered some who had
killed their buck before. These soon put an end to the
fün. A few bounds more, and the noble buck was num-
bered among the slain.
The firing had attracted the attention of the horsemen,


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
145
who came galloping up at full speed, eager to participate
in what they thought a real engagement.
“We've got one, major !” exclaimed our officer, as one
of them charged up to the spot.
“ Ab! eh! where?” ejaculated the major, in a single
breath, while his face glowed with excitement. “Where?
“
where?”
“There, he lies behind those palmettoes.”
Hastily reining his horse to the spot, and raising himself
in his stirrups, he gazed over. Seeing the prostrate deer,
he sat down in his saddle, and giving the officer a look,
half-disappointment and half-reproach, replied,
“Oh! is that all?”
The regulars, when they heard the firing, were not less
deceived; and expecting that we were engaged with the
Indians, they advanced cautiously, each man taking care to
cover himself by the trees. They were now in hearing, and
as the firing ceased, and they could hear the general shout
that we had “killed one,” they came on hastily, as if anx-
ious to be “in at the death,” though they had enjoyed but
a sorry chance in the chase.
“ Huzza! we've got him.'
" Where is he?" shouted the lieutenant, as he emerged
from the thicket.
“There he lies, dead as a herring,” answered our officer,
pointing to the clump of palmettoes.
The lieutenant rushed to the spot, but, like the major, he
$
10


146
MAJOR JOXES.
1
soon perceived the hoax, and turning away, discovered a
not less ludicrous change of countenance.
We were soon joined by the other detachments. The few
friendly Indians gathered round the deer, and gazed with
their hungry eyes as though they would have devoured it
on the spot.
“ Echoe inclis che !" said one,' as he turned grinning
away, at the same time unconsciously licking his tawny
lips.
Enca,” replied another quaint-looking fellow, who had
been examining the body in hopes of discovering a rifle-shot
among the wounds; enca, echoe! good too much ;" then
turning with an air of disappointment and slapping his
hand upon his gun,
he exclaimed : “holawagus cher no
6
good.'
Our detachment being now concentrated, all joined in a
hearty laugh at the adventure. We retraced our steps to .
the
camp. As we drew near we were encountered by nu-
merous stragglers, eager to learn the result of the battle. Of
course we told them that we had killed one, and, pointing
them to the horse in the rear on which the deer was borne,
they no sooner saw the blood than they bolted off to tell
the news. By the time we arrived in camp it was currently
reported that twenty Indians had been killed in the affray.
A meeting was soon convened of those who claimed to
have hit the deer. Fortunately there were but three ball-
holes in his hide, or there had not been a mouthful apiece


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
147
for the claimants. Matters had been adjusted, and the three
who seemed to have the best right were busied in butcher-
ing the venison. Two of them were my personal friends,
and I sat by them as they were engaged in dividing out the
meat. It was splendid venison, and as I watched the
.
butchering operations, and my mouth watered for some of
the steaks, I could not but think how easily I might have
killed the same deer.
“If it had not been for the orders of the officers," said
I," I could have saved the whole company the trouble of
firing at that deer. I never saw a prettier shot in my life.”
“That's a fact,” replied one; "it was a shame they did
not let you fire. You could not have missed."
.
“ It would have vexed me had I been in the same situa-
tion," said the second.
The other individual seemed not to heed what was being
said. He was one of those who in such cases sympathize
with no one, or, in other words, he was a complete No. 1.
“I say, gentlemen, suppose we give Micconopy* the
other quarter. One is as much as I want, and I do think
he has a right to a part of the venison, as he could, had he
been allowed the same privileges we were, easily have ob-
tained the whole."
* My nickname in camp. It was given to me by one whose familiar
cognomen was not more enviable, viz., Gopher. Mine, literally trans-
lated, signifies pond king (micco, king; nophy, pond). The other is a
species of land turtle found in Florida and some parts of Georgia.


148
MAJOR JONES.
“ Agreed," said the other; “I don't want more than a
quarter of fresh meat at a time.”
“Yes, but the Indians had not fired when he had the
chance to shoot, you know," said the third.
“Oh, well, devil the odds ; let's give him the other quar-
ter anyhow.”
The other looked a demurrer, but he was overruled, and
the fourth quarter was awarded to me. I gladly accepted
it, and I dare say Mess No. 7 have not yet forgotten the
delightful steaks it supplied, nor the fine soup which was
made from the bones on the following day.
NUMBER TWO.
RETURN FROM THE
PRAIRIE - MOONLIGHT
SCENE-
BURIAL OF THE DEAD.
The chase was done, and the bugle had sounded a halt.
Our straggling army, which had but an hour before been
squandered through the tangled wood and dense hummock,
in search of the flying enemy, was formed in order, and we
were about to retrace our steps to camp. We had heard
the shrill war-whoop, the sharp crack of the rifle, and the
peculiar, though not very agreeable, whistle of the enemy's


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
119
bullets as they came whizzing over our heads, or splashed
in the muddy water at our feet. But we were unharmed.
Not a man was touched, and we felt ourselves victors,
while in possession of the field, though we had not fired a
musket. True, our bayonets had “looked daggers' points”
at the enemy, and the lengthened scratches of the big-toe
nails in the mud afforded abundant evidence that they, not-
withstanding their vaunting yells and fierce onset, had pre-
ferred rather to evade than come to the point.
It was a hardfought battle, that battle of the “Spotted
Lake," if we take into consideration the racing and chasing,
wading and swimming, bogging and floundering, together
with the feats of "ground and loſty tumbling" performed,
though, like most subsequent Florida battles, it ended in
smoke. There was fighting enough done, but there were no
Indians caught; there was powder enough burned, but there
were more wounded pine trees discovered after the battle
than wounded Seminoles ; and I am strongly of opinion that
there was more turpentine than Indian blood spilled on that
occasion. Few of us by that day's exploit were covered
with glory, though every mother's son of us got well be-
spattered with mud. None were covered with scars, but
many had their garments torn most copiously.
“This minds me of Waterloo,” said a comrade, up to his
armpits in mud and water, as we were returning through
the lagoon.
“There! there goes the other flap of my coat-tail,” said


150
MAJOR JONES.
>
another, as he was endeavoring to extricate himself from a
web of briers with which he had become so completely
mixed, that it was difficult to distinguish himself among
the brambles.
Moses in the bulrushes, young as he was, stood a
better chance than we do of ever getting out."
"I don't see," said my file-leader, uttering a slight im-
precation between his teeth, as he rose from the ground upon
which he had just left a full-length impression of himself,
“I don't see how them infernal red-skins got out of the
way so quick. I couldn't run a mile a month in such a
swamp."
“ Look out behind there !"
“Thunder and lightning! what do you let the bush back
for? You've knocked my eye out!"
“It hung to my coat couldn't help it."
“Give me your hand, somebody !" called out a little
duck-legged fellow, whose head just stuck out of a quag-
mire, which the fallen leaves had hidden from his observa-
tion.
“Now, then! oh-he-o !" cried his friend as he drew him
forth; "it's well you spoke, for I was just going to pick
up your cap."
“ Are you amphibious ?” asked a rather quizzical mess-
mate.
“No," replied the man in black mud,“ but I expect t..
be before we get home."
in that way
>


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 18:36.
151
“There you go again,” cried a dozen, as down went one
over a palmetto root.
“ Come here and I'll help you up,” said another.
“ Just you mind your own business," was the reply, as
the stumbler gathered up his musket and fell into place.
Thus were we discoursing as we clambered through the
intervening thicket on our return to the prairie, where we
had on the morning “stripped for the fight.” On reaching
the open ground we found our drummers standing sentry
over our knapsacks, canteens, etc., which, when we had re-
covered, we resumed our march with the army. Till now
I had seen but one dead and one wounded man, and those
I had passed at a time when nearly the whole army except
our own company was engaged, and when the roar of mus-
ketry, the yell of the Indians, and the shout of “Hurrah
for Georgia !” which burst from our troops, drowned all
thoughts of either the dead or dying; and the sight of one
poor fellow, who lay beneath a shady live-oak, slowly
breathing his last, with no one to receive his dying word
but a stranger surgeon, at that moment excited no emotion
within my breast. But now the dead and wounded were
collected together, and the exciting scenes which had before
borne the mind away from the contemplation of such ob-
jects, were past and gone, and as I regarded the lengthened
train of white litters on which our unfortunate comrades
were borne, I could not divest my mind of the melancholy
reflections naturally suggested by such a spectacle. But


152
MAJOR JONES.
a
what has the soldier to do with sympathy ? His rugged
calling requires a heart tempered as his steel; and as I
thought of the stern nature of our duty, and the darker
hours which were, perhaps, yet in reserve for our own corps,
I inwardly struggled to suppress those feelings which I felt
under other circumstances it would have been a virtue to
indulge.
The camp was distant from the place where we had en-
gaged the Indians about two miles. To this place the killed
and wounded were conveyed upon litters constructed of
blankets, and borne upon the shoulders of the men. As
we moved forward through the thick hummocks and over
fallen trees, it was painful to hear the groans of the
wounded as at times they were dragged rudely over some
opposing obstacle or jostled against the trees. Though the
aggregate of killed and wounded was small, yet it was a
painful sight to sce even those few.thus borne from the field,
and many a manly breast burned with the spirit of re-
venge, as we recollected that they had fallen by so treach-
erous, so base a foe. It was nearly dusk when we reached
the camp. The place selected for the deposit of our bag-
gage wagons was situated upon an elevated piece of ground,
which had been inclosed by a rough breastwork, and left
in possession of about three hundred men, who had been
detailed from each corps in proportion to its size.
Those at the park could distinctly hear the firing, and as
a friend afterwards informed me, each discharge of our ar-
.
a


THE FLORIDA OAMPAIGN OF 1836.
153
:
tillery, as it was heard above the roar of the musketry,
seemed to produce an electric effect upon the entire camp.
Some cheered and shouted, some danced and jumped about
the inclosure, while others seized their muskets and leaping
astride the breastworks, seemed determined to participate
in the fray. Of course they felt the most intense anxiety
to learn the result, and as we approached within hearing
distance those of our own corps who had been left behind
pressed their inquiries with the most earnest solicitude:
“ Who's killed ?"
“Nobody!” from half a dozen.
“Who's wounded ?"
“Nobody!”
“Tom !”
“Here!" answered a voice from the ranks.
“Hurrah !" came from the breastworks in reply. “I
knew they couldn't shoot you, Tom."
,
As we marched in and formed our encampment each
corps was questioned in like manner by those who had been
left behind; but it was not the fortune of all to receive the
same cheering intelligence. Every company had not been
so fortunate, and it will be long ere I forget the deep ex-
pression of pain manifested by the changing countenance
and filling eye of a Louisianian, who asked:
" Where is Robertson ?*
* Mr. Robertson was a gallant young soldier belonging to the Lou-
isiana volunteers. He had distinguished himself on several occasions,
13


154
MAJOR JONES.
>
a
“He is killed," was the startling reply.
So soon as ws' were dismissed preparations were made for
satisfying our craving appetites. Rations were drawn, our
camp-fires lighted, and as we engaged in cooking and eat-
ing, the events of the past day, its dangers and its hard-
-ships, were soon forgotten in the enjoyment of our bacon
and biscuits.
In the midst of our enjoyment, however, and just as I
had snugly packed away the remnants of my scanty rations,
and located myself in a comfortable position for the night,
my back resting in a niche formed by the roots of a lofty
pine, it was announced that our corps were detailed for
picket guard. Without a murmur, we shouldered our
muskets and again formed in company. It fell to my lot
to be placed on the first relief.
Like most parts of Florida our encampment more resem-
bled a beautiful meadow, with here and there a lofty pine,
than ordinary uncultivated woodland, being as it was, clear
,
from underwood, and carpeted with a luxuriant growth of
long grass.
It was a lovely night. The moon shone brightly, cast-
ing a soft mellow light over the surrounding landscape,
and reflecting her pale disk on the still waters of the little
and his loss was deeply lamented by the army generally, but particu-
larly by the gallant volunteers from his own State. He was shot through
the head on the first fire of the enemy, and died after iingering several
days. His wound was at first considered mortal.


THB FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OP 1836.
155
lake that slumbered at the base of the gently sloping hill
apon which our army was encamped. Upon its brink, where
a tall pine threw its lengthened shadow far over its silver
surface, had been assigned my post. It was light as day,
and I could see from one extremity of our encampment to
the other, and could distinguish many sentinels as they stood
at their posts. Like myself they were weary, and they
rested upon their arms, or leaned against some friendly pine,
apparently meditating upon the events of the day which had
just closed. The scene was one calculated to inspire the
contemplative mind with sober thoughts, and to chasten the
feelings by its calm and influence:
“The birch trees wept in fragrant balm,
The aspens slept beneath the calm;
The silver light, with quivering glance,
Played on the water's still expanse;
Wild was the heart whose passion's sway
Could rage beneath the sober ray;"
and doubtless many a grateful heart, in that still hour, was
paying its orisons to Him who had preserved us unharmed
amid the perils of savage warfare. The great mass of the
army were already stretched upon the ground. Hundreds
of gallant spirits, whose breasts on the morning of that day
had glowed with intensest excitement, were now steeped in
silent forgetfulness; perhaps reviewing in their dreams the
thrilling incidents that had passed; or perhaps, borne on
wings of fancy, were enjoying the blessed presence of friends


156
MAJOR JONES.
a
and relatives at home. All was still. Not a breeze or
sound broke the unruffled calm of nature, save at intervals
might be heard the faint and plaintive yell of some lone
savage in the gloom of the far-off hummock, where, not un-
likely, he was searching for some one of his tribe, who had
not been found since the battle.
While leaning upon my gun, enjoying the calmness of
the scene, and indulging in my own fugitive reflections, I
,
observed a slight movement in the vicinity of the Louis-
iana line, at the opposite extreme of the encampment. In
the dim distance I could observe a small body of men, and
as the rays of the moon caught upon their bayonets, I could
perceive that their arms were reversed. It was a corps of
Louisianians preparing to bury an unfortunate comrade, who
had fallen in the battle. It was a melancholy spectacle,
.
such as was calculated to excite emotions of no ordinary
character; and as the shrili but harmonious tones of some
ten or fifteen fifes broke suddenly forth upon the stillness
of the night, accompanied by the solemn, monotonous beat
of a single muffled drum, the plaintive music touched a
chord of feeling which vibrated with the keenest sensibility.
Never before did the notes of that beautiful hymn breathe
such sweet, such plaintive melody, as when they rose amid
that wild scene and were echoed back from the gloomy
depths of the trackless forest. Slowly the iittle group move,
with measured tread, to the spot appointed for the last rest-
ing-place of their deceased friend. Wrapped in his blanket,


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
157
they laid him upon his lowly pillow, then returning the turf
upon
the grave, they left him there, to slumber,
“On a spot without a name,
Far hidden from the search of fame,”
and, in silence, retraced their steps.
Thus, thought I, terminates man’s aspirations after glory.
Doubtless the inmate of that rude grave had been actuated
by the same sentiroent of patriotism, the same love of glory,
which glows so brightly in the bosom of every citizen-
soldier. A noble spirit of devotion to his country had
impelled him to leave his home, and to encounter the pri-
vations and perils of savage warfare. Doubtless he had
anticipated his reward in the smiles of an approving coun-
try, the gratulations of admiring friends, and, above all,
the inward consciousness of having done his duty, than
which the patriot soldier has no richer recompense. But,
.
I said to myself, what were all those bright and glorious
day-dreams to him now? With him "life's fitful fever”
is over, and to him the world's applause is but idle breath.
“No more upon his ear will come
The war-beat of the gathering drum,
Or the trumpet's roaring blast,"
but all forgotten by the chronicles of fame, he will sleep
on until the morning of the final reveille, when, if he
have the countersign of an upright life, he will rise to be
marshalled in the ranks of the blessed, and to participate


158
MAJOB JONES.
in the rewards of the just, which are worth ten thousand
lives of earthly fame and glory.
*
*
Just before sunrise the funeral dirge again breathed
forth its solemn strain. Two more were consigned to the
grave. At early dawn the bugle sounded for the march,
the line was formed, and we were soon compelled to
“Leave them where breezes play
'Mid palm trees waving high,
And flowers exert such pleasing sway,
That death itself aside might stray,
Forgetting where they lie.”
NUMBER THREE.
PICKET GUARD STORMY NIGHT_SNUG QUARTERS-
PATRICK FAGAN AND THE GEORGIA STAG.
READER, did you never, when some dire mischance has
befallen you, in the course of the vicissitudes of life, enter-
,
tain for a moment the impious thought, that of all other
mortals you had been singled out as the victim of relent-
less fate? Have you not at such times felt a murmuring
spirit within you, which almost ventured to reproach the
Great Dispenser of good and evil with injustice? You have.


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
159
Well, it was with just such instigations of the devil in
my heart, that I shouldered my musket, and repaired to the
guard tent to take the place of a member of the company
who had reported himself sick. I say it was with just
such feelings that I shouldered my musket. Do not think,
most amiable reader, that I harbored such a thought for
more than a minute, or longer than merely to allow time
for reflection. And when you learn the circumstances,
though you cannot find it in your pious heart to sanction,
either in yourself or me, so wicked a thought, yet I doubt
not that the peculiar nature of my grievance will excite
your sympathies in my favor, and in some degree palliate
the momentary impulse of frail human nature.
Guard duty is at any time the veriest drudgery of a
soldier's life, and in inclement weather, but for mere opin-
ion's sake, I had about as leave be under guard as on
guard, particularly when the prisoners are accommodated
with a shelter. I had been on guard only a day or two
previous, and was the first on the list to be detailed on the
following day. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and the fast-gathering clouds and drizzling rain gave token
of an approaching storm. I was snugly nestled in my tent
with my messmates, congratulating myself with the reflec-
tion that I had escaped a stormy night on picket guard,
and really sympathizing with those poor fellows whose fate
it was to keep their vigils on such a night, when I heard
my name called by the orderly. I looked out at a small


160
MAJOR JONES.
aperture in the tent which had been left open, not being
disposed to get wet unnecessarily. “What's wanting ?” I
inquired.
“Get your gun (a tremor ran through my whole frame);
get your gun, sir, and report yourself to the officer of the
guard as substitute for —, who has reported himself un-
able to do duty. You must be in haste," he added, as he
»
turned away.
“But, sergeant, sergeant, I'm—"
“You're next on the list," was the stern reply.
The thing was settled. There was no appeal, no hope of
release, and, what was worse, no sympathy, for as I picked
up my musket and prepared to depart from the crowded
tent, one remarked in reply to my grumbling: “We'll
have more room, boys," and I thought, as I gave them a
parting look, that their countenances expressed something
more than mere gratification at their own escape.
On my arrival at the guard-tent I was incorporated in
the third relief, which chanced to be entirely composed of
members of my own company. The picket guard and
supernumerary guard were standing huddled round a large
blazing log-fire in sullen silence, with their necks bowed in
stubborn defiance to the drizzling shower, which, as the
night approached, increased to a drenching storm, while
some ten or a dozen drunken regulars lay sprawled upon
the ground in what was called the guard house, in glorious
unconsciousness of the rain that descended into their


TRE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
161
.
weather-beaten faces. I elbowed my way to the fire, and
stood in sad contemplation of my misfortune.
A few hours elapsed and it was night-and such a night!
'Twas black as Stygian darkness; not a star ventured to
;
peep through the impenetrable gloom, nor a single brighter
spot in the sable canopy above to indicate an approaching
calm. There was one in the crowd assembled round that
fire, and only one, the temperature of whose mind did not
seem to harmonize with the scene. He was the same eccen-
tric, jovial, good-humored, devilish, mischievous fellow in
sunshine or in storm, on the march or in camp; "he was
indeed a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy,"
and so far from allowing adverse circumstances to affect his
humor, it was his wont to indulge most in his merry wit
when the contrast was greatest with the sullen humor of
those around. Thus we stood grouped round the fire until
the order: "Fall in, third relief !” summoned us to depart.
We were soon distributed upon our respective posts, much
to the gratification of the poor fellows whom it was our duty
to relieve. Shortly after we were posted the storm in-
creased, the rain descended in torrents, and the wind roared
in the tops of the lofty pipes. In spite of my good peter-
sham and blanket to boot, I was soon drenched to the skin.
I felt the cold water trickling down my back as I stood by a
tree hugging my musket, which in spite of all my efforts, was
as wet as myself. I could have crawled under an oyster-
shell to escape the pelting storm, but there was no shelter
11


162
MAJOR JONES.
for me, not so much as a dry knot-hole, and I was obliged
to weather it out. Two long hours, and like Florida miles,
they seemed the longest I had ever experienced, at length
elapsed, and my heart leaped with joy when I heard the sen-
tinel next to me call out: “Who goes there ” In a few
?
minutes more I heard the tramp of feet approaching. Judg-
ing from the sound, for it was as dark as Egypt, when they
had approached within challenging distance, I hailed :
“Who goes there ?"
“Relief,” was the reply of a well-known voice.
“Stand, relief; advance, sergeant, and give the counter-
sign."
“Clinch," whispered the sergeant.
Countersign's correct; advance, relief.”
“Forward, relief; halt! Advance, number seven;
,
report."
After giving the sentinel the proper charge, I took my
place in the rear, and we moved off. Several other senti-
nels were relieved in like manner, and we had nearly com-
pleted the round of the picket, when the sergeant, who was
a regular and a strict old disciplinarian, ordered a halt.
“ Where's number 'leven ?" said he; "his post must be
near here, but he has not challenged.” He then groped
about in the bushes for a minute or two, and returned.
“I think it was at this tree number 'leven was posted.”
Perhaps we've passed his post,” remarked one of the
relief.


THB FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
163
The old sergeant again made diligent search among the
logs and bushes, but without effect. The line occupied by
the picket guard was on the brow of a hill, so that it
difficult even in the dark to miss the post so wide as to be
out of challenging distance.
“May-be he's asleep?" remarked the sergeant.
“May-be he's dead, you mean; none but a dead man
could sleep on post, such a night as this."
“I'll call him," said the sergeant. “Sentinel ! sentinel
number 'leven !"
No answer.
“Who was posted on this post, fellows?” asked one.
The Ruga Dick, the big buck of the water, the Georgia
stag,” replied a hoarse sepulchral voice, which seemed to
come from underneath the ground.
“Oh, it's that rascal Tom,” remarked several in the
same breath; and then there was a general laugh among the
men. But the old sergeant was bewildered.
“Where did that voice come from ?” he inquired in
evident surprise.
Before he could be answered, the same voice broke forth
in the same unearthly tones :
“Oh, young man, come and take me, and marry me,
And call me your own,
For I swear and declare, I am tired
Aliving alone.”
The song led us to the spot, but still no one could be seen.
" Here he is !” exclaimed one, at the same time he gave
.


164
MAJOR JONES.
a
a kick against a flour-barrel in which the songster was en-
sconced. The kick had the effect to slue the barrel round,
and another sent it rattling down the hill.
“Hello—quit that-stop-stop-it !" came from the
barrel, as it went rattle-te-clink down the hill, till it was
stopped by a log, and the next moment a form, whose
snowy whiteness was even discernible in the blackness of
the night, came crawling out of the open end of the barrel.
“Who goes there?” said the man in white.
The old sergeant knew not what to say; he endeavored
to mutter some words of reproof, but Tom was too clever
a fellow to get mad with, and as the whole relief joined to
extenuate his fault, the old fellow, considering it was a
“ rainy night, anyhow," consented to laugh at the joke, and
say nothing about it. The truth of the matter was, Tom,
not being disposed to stand two hours in a pelting storm,
had, after having been placed upon his post, strayed up
into the camp, where he found an empty flour-barrel, which
he carried, as near as he could guess in the dark, back to his
post, into which he crawled with his musket, and where he
might have remained “as snug as a bug in a rug” till
morning, but for our intrusion.
On our arrival at the guard-tent, there had been quite an
accession to the list of prisoners. Among the rest was a little
Irishman, by the name of Patrick, who having indulged
most too freely in the “crayther," was now as merry and
profane as a madman. He was lying sprawled out on the


ZIN
.
con
14
“A form, whose snowy whiteness was even discernible in the
darkness of the night, came crawling out at
the open end of the barrel."
(165)


|


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
167
ground, face upwards, railing away against the officers to his
heart's content. He attracted the attention of the Georgia
Stag, who coiled himself near bim, and watched his oppor-
tunity for a quarrel. Patrick was complaining of the regu-
lations of the camp.
“It's these d-d ponies that's made all the bother,"
said he.
“Whom do you call ponies ?” demanded Tom, rising
erect as he spoke. “You Irish rascal, if you call me a
pony, I'll take your scalp in the twinkling of an eye.”
Patrick was taken by surprise, and commenced at once
to explain.
“Oh, it wasn't the likes o’ye that I meant, at all at all;
it's these d—d rigʻlar officers that I mane—they're what I
call ponies.”
Tom accepted the explanation, and lay down; but just
as Patrick felt himself at liberty to rave against the ponies
as much as he pleased, he was again interrupted by Tom,
who, flourishing a large bowie-kniſe over the head of the
prostrate Irishman, declared that he was a pony, and that
he would cut his throat from ear to ear, if he said another
word against them.
“You don't know," said he, with a boasting air, “whom
you are dealing with. I am Ruga Dick, the big buck of
the water, the Georgia Stag. Tie my leg to a swinging
limb, and I'll whip all the Irish in Ireland.”
Patrick stared for a moment as if confused in his under-
>


168
MAJOR JONES.
standing, and again begged off; but, perhaps perceiving
his antagonist rather too ready to accept his apology, he
.in turn rose to a sitting posture and bullied Tom.
“It'll not do for the likes o'ye to thry to scare me. By
the powers, man,
do
you
know who you're talking to ? If
ye don't, make yerself aisy I'll break ivery bone in the d-d
dirty skin iv ye.”
Tom in turn affected to be dreadfully alarmed, and made
every apology. Patrick lay down again, but continued:
“Yer a pony, are ye? hut, the divil ye are! Well, ye
better not come any iv yer blarney about Patrick Fagan or
he'll be the death iv ye. Don't thry to stop me from
spakin' me mind, if ye are Georgia's bull or stag, or what-
iver ye are. Me tongue's me own if I am a riglar, and no
man shall stop my~"
Just here Tom deliberately raised his leg and dropped it,
mud, boot, and all, plump into Patrick's mouth. As if
thunderstruck Patrick lay for a moment with the boot in
his mouth, then with both hands he gave the leg a shove
over his head, severely scraping his face and nose by the
operation. Then rising to a sitting posture, with his mouth
and eyes half-filled with mud, he demanded in a voice that
spoke his rage :
“By the howly Saint Patrick, what do ye mane ?”
“Mean?” says Tom, quite unconcerned.
“ Yis, what do ye mane by putting yer dirty fut in me
mouth ?”
i


?


(170)
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Fagan.”


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
171
a
“Oh, was that your mouth ? I beg your pardon, Mr.
Fagan, I didn't mean to do it. I beg your pardon, my
darling; just let me wipe off the injury, Mr. Fagan,” and
be drew his coat-sleeve across his face.
“Stop, stop,” said Patrick, "yer makin' it worse nor it
was.' "
“How-what?” inquired Tom.
Why, ye've plasthered me eye up wid dough,” replied
Fagan, as he scraped away at his half-whitewashed coun-
tenance.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Fagan," said Tom, as he gath-
ered up a handful of pine straw and leaves, and offered to
polish him off as clean as a whistle.
“Niver mind, niver mind,” replied Patrick, as he con-
tinued to spit and brush away at his mouth and eyes.
Fagan becoming satisfied that the sudden blockading of
his port of entry was the result of accident, manifested no
further disposition of hostility, and again stretched himself
upon the ground, and presently resumed his tirade against
the officers. But what was his surprise, when, in the midst
of his eloquence, the same muddy boot was again thrust in
his mouth. This could be no accident, and Patrick whirled
up in a fury.
“Now, Mr. Georgia Stag, what the divil do ye mane ?”
“Now, Mr. Fagan, what do you mean by biting me like
a dog when I'm asleep?"
“Is it biting ye, ye dirty bla guard ye? Didn't ye put


172
MAJOR JONES.
a
yer dirty fat in me mouth, and may the divil burn ye for
it, ye white-whiskered liar, ye.”
“You try to bite me again, you Irish bull-dog, and I'll
kick your teeth down your throat.”
Patrick was stumped, and as in all probability a similar
misunderstanding would occur if he remained where he was,
he resolved to get rid of a bad acquaintance the best way
he
could, so he staggered off to the officer of the guard.
“Lieutinant,” said he, “I can't sthop under that shanty
ony longer."
Why not?” demanded the officer.
“ Bekase there's a chap there that's all the time putting
his d-d dirty fut in me mouth.”
“Well, keep your mouth shut then," was all the satisfac-
tion poor Patrick received, and he walked off in search of
a spot where he might rest secure from the intrusions of the
Georgia Stag, a character entirely beyond his comprehen-
sion.
After the desertion of Mr. Fagan Tom also withdrew
from the guard-tent and joined the party around the fire.
He was covered with dough, and he found no difficulty in
obtaining a place in the crowd, for each avoided coming in
contact with him, as they would avoid having their ward-
robes starched to excess.
When he had taken a survey of the dejected counte-
nances assembled round the fire, he uttered a hoarse laugh,
and commenced his favorite song:
a


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
173
“Oh, young man, come and take me,” etc.
A half-drowned fellow who stood near him, with the
visor of his cap behind, to turn the water from his shoul-
ders, and his blanket gathered tightly round his shrivelled
form, asked in a plaintive tone of voice,
“ Tom, how do you stand it? don't you think this a little
too tough ?”
“Pooh, man, this is the glory of the camp; you are now
enjoying the pleasures of a soldier's life," and slapping the
interrogator upon the shoulder, he sang,
“Ah, the delights that a soldier knows,” etc.
“Delight, indeed; well, they're welcome to it for me.
I'd rather be a negro on a rice-plantation for life, than a
soldier for twenty-four hours."
“What's that you say, 'red horse ?' If you say anything
against the life of us soldiers, I'll pull one of your bushy
whiskers off. Ha! ha! boys, you don't appreciate the bless-
ings you enjoy."
“How happy's the soldier who lives on his pay,
Spends half a crown out of a sixpence a day;
He fears neither devil, nor bailiffs, nor bombs,
But pays all his debts with the roll of his drums.
With his row—with his row de dow, dow,” etc.
The merry humor of the singer was irresistible, and
though the storm raged and the smoke streamed into our
faces, the reckless spirit of our comrade soon became infec-


174
MAJOR JONES.
tious, and when he came to the chorus, several voices
joined in
“With his row-with his row de dow, dow,” etc.
The rain continued to descend without intermission; to
sleep was impossible; there was no refuge from the storm,
and our only alternative was to cluster round the fire, and
endeavor to keep warm if we could not keep dry. The
warm steam rose from one side while the cold stream ran
down the other. It was a borrible night, and horribly did
some of the old soldiers curse their stars that they should
be on guard on such a night; and I must confess that I
could scarce refrain from wishing that —'s toothache
might last a thousand years, just because he had chosen to
indulge it on that particular night.
After the expiration of four hours, we were again sum-
moned to resume our posts. Towards morning the clouds
cleared away, the rain ceased, and the glorious sun rose in
all its splendor, imparting a cheering and a genial warmth
to all. The lively notes of the morning reveillé banished
all recollections of past suffering, and as the parade and
pageant of military usage brought us into action, and ex-
cited in us a spirit of emulation, the breast of the patriot
soldier experienced an emotion of pleasure which richly re-
paid him for all the privations and hardships which his
duty to his country required that he should suffer.


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
175
NUMBER FOUR.
FORT DRANE-NIGHT IN CAMP-PATRICK FAGAN ANT)
PHELIM O'BRIEN-JOHNNY HOGAN AND THE GHOST.
How often in my moments of retrospection does memory
revert to the pleasant sojourn of our corps in the encamp-
ment at Fort Drane, previous to our march with General
Scott to Tampa. Beloved Lang Syne !-how many are
the thrilling associations connected with the recollection of
our adopted home.* With the remembrance of thy tented
field and rude defence, thy sultry plain and shady groves,
are associated,
“The neighing steed, and the shrill trump,
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fifc,
The royal banner, and all quality,
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war.”
To those who participated in those trying scenes, that
once familiar spot will be stamped on the tablets of their
memory as a bright oasis in the wilderness; nor will it be
less dear to the recollection of Georgians as the homestead
of him who was their friend in the hour of privation and
peril,—the brave and generous Clinch.
* During the marches and counter-marches performed by the corps
while in Florida, Fort Drane, or Lang Syne, was always spoken of as
our adopted home.


176
MAJOR JONES.
>
For some three or four weeks after our arrival at the fort
we were obliged to remain inactive, with little other duty
to perform than what pertained to the security and comfort
of our camp. When not on guard or engaged in drilling,
the time was spent in sauntering about the parade-ground, or
lying in the shade of our tents, discussing the “camp news"
of the day, and in exchanging ideas upon topics connected
with the approaching campaign. After tattoo, it was cus-
.
tomary to assemble round our camp-fires, where the hours
pássed merrily off, till the dying embers and our heavy
eyelids admonished us to retire to our tents. Not unfre-
quently were we entertained at our nightly conversaziones
by a straggling regular or so, whom we always welcomed
to a seat, with a cordiality proportioned to their convivial
powers, and many, indeed, were the strange stories and
quaint jests with which they “did beguile us of our ears,"
not unfrequently “setting the whole camp-fire in a roar.”
One dark night we were seated round a cheerful, blazing
fire; the little barber, who boasted his English nativity,
had just concluded his favorite song,
"The
sea,
the
sea,
the hopen, hopen sea,”
in the execution of which he imagined hiniself not a jot
behind Braham, when Patrick Fagan came staggering up,
and seated himself upon the slab which had been raised to
the dignity of a bench by the insertion of two wooden legs
at each end.


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
177
>
“The top is the mornin' til ye, gintlemen,” said Patrick,
as he seated himself.
“You're mistaken, Patrick, it's not morning yet,” re-
plied one in answer to what was meant as a most courteous
salutation.
“Well, well, it's all wan betwixt friends,” replied Pat,
evidently bothered at the blunder he had committed. “It's
all wan betwixt friends. I know what grammar is as well
as the next, but ye see, the fact is, gintlemen, I'm a little
beside mesilf, jist at this present writin', for I seed a nagur
the night wid a heart as white as the best of yees.”
“How do you know his heart was white, Patrick?”
“Why, ye see, I happened to come across the chap jist
as he was comin' out iv a petate-hole wid a bag iv the
petates. 'Look here, blacky,' sez I. 'Stop,' sez he, don't
say a word,' sez be; and wid that he pulled out a bottle,
and shuck it. 'It's rum,' sez he; and I hadn't more nor put
it till me head afore he was out o' sight.”
“Give me your hand, Patrick Fagan,” cried a dozen in
a breath.
“I knew your people in Ireland,” said one.
“ You're a gentleman of the first liquor," said another.
“I'll stand to your back, and see your brains knocked
out,” exclaimed a third.
“I'm your friend in prosperity," said the fourth.
Sthop! sthop!” cried Patrick, as they all rushed round
12


178
MAJOR JONES.
him in their pretended eagerness to participate in his good
fortune. “Sthop! sthop! gintlemen, it's all gone; divil
the dhrop's left in the world."
“Gone !” exclaimed one, in a desponding voice.
"All gone!” cried another; “out, you guzzler !” .
"Ain't you ashamed of yourself, Patrick Fagan, to swill
down a whole bottle, without treating your particular
friends!”
Patrick felt the sudden “haul of the wind,” and would
have given the coat on his back if he had not mentioned
the circumstance.
« Oh, it's divil the dhrop there was more nor a good
dhram in the bottle, and there's Phelim O'Brien that drunk
the best part o' that.”
“Don't lie about it, Pat.'
“By my troth, it's the truth that I'm spakin'-here's
Phelim comin', and you can ax him."
Phelim O'Brien was a tall, robust fellow, rather above
the middle stature, with a good-humored Irish face; and
being a man of some intelligence, his society at the camp-
fire was as much relished for his better qualities, as was
that of little Patrick for his ignorance and stupidity. As
Phelim approached, Patrick called out:
“Didn't I trate you to the best part iv the bottle, Phe-
lim O'Brien?”
Phelim stopped short, and throwing all the contempt


اہ
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tilr
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مررره
“Sthop, gintlemen, its all gone; divil the drop's left
in the world."
(179)


.


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
181
into his face which his features were capable of expressing,
replied:
“If the looking into an empty stable is stalin' the horse
that's gone, then I drunk your liquor. Divil the drop
,
above what would wet the tip iv my tongue did ye
lave me.”
Patrick raised both hands as well as he could, and ex-
claimed: “Oh, murther! at the ungrateful blackguard.”
As Phelim took his seat on the opposite side of the fire,
the general laugh excited by Patrick's discomfiture quite
drowned the execrations which followed his exclamation.
The conversation then took a change, and Phelim, whose
left arm was in a sling from a wound received at the battle
of the Withlacoochie, gave us many interesting particulars
connected with that gallant affair, not, however, without
frequent interruption from Patrick, who swore that “Phe-
lim O'Brien could bate the divil himself at a lie."
“ It's very dark to-night,” remarked one, as we heard
'
the picket-guard challenging the relief.
“ You may say that,” replied Patrick, who seemed anx-
ious to have a share in the conversation, “and if I was as
vy a liar as Phelim O'Brien, I'd keep a sharper lookout
: :)-night for the divil nor iver I did for Indians.”
Phelim cast a look around the fire expressive of his con-
tempt for the speaker, but deigned no reply.
“I should not like to be on picket-guard to-night,”
said one, as he gave the burning chunks a stir.
»
a
a


182
MAJOR JONES.
>
-
"
"
а
>
“Nor I, especially if I had the post by the tree in rear
of the pickets,” said a fellow in a half-gape and half-yawn.
“That ghost that came so nigh frightening W- to
death will be there to-night, for certain. Poor fellow, I
fear he'll never recover his wits ; he don't know the buit
from the muzzle of his musket, ever since he fired it that
night.”
“That was the ghost of ould Hicks," replied Patrick.
It's no wonder he comes afther
yees,
whin
ye
wint an
pulled the ould body out iv his grave. But I'll tell
ye
what," continued he with a drunken leer, “ I'd like to capti-
wate another black ghost wid a bag o'porates and another
bottle o' rum, any time.”
“ Did you ever see a ghost, Pat?” inquired one in a seri-
ous tone of voice.
“To be sure; there's plinty o’them in the ould counthry,
but they hates the smell of whusky as the divil hates houly
wather.”
“That accounts for your escape then, Pat; your breath
was always too strong for them.”
“That's a fact, for didn't I always take a dhrop when-
iver I wint to a wake, or wheriver they were ?”
"Well, boys, it's near bed-time; let us have a ghost story
and adjourn. Come, Phelim, you are from the old country,
tell us of the ghosts."
“I'll tell you about Johnny Hogan's ghost, but that's
no story, for it's thrue as preachin'."
>


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
183
a
“Well, huzza for Johnny Hogan's ghost !—silence, boys,
for Johnny Hogan's ghost.
“I'll warrant Phelim's as good at a lie as the next,"
muttered Patrick.
“Silence, silence ! for Johnny Hogan's ghost !”
When the whole company had relapsed into profound
silence, Phelim resumed in a serious tone of voice :
“It was whin I belonged to the 23d Infantry, and we
were stationed near a small town in the south iv Ireland,
that the matter which I'm goin to tell yees happened.
Johnny Hogan was a messmate o’mine, and a clever fellow,
too, in his way, but the whole regiment couldn't perduce
his equal for blusterin' and braggin'. Take his word for it,
an he wasn't afeard iv witches, fairies, ghosts, hobgobblings,
nor even the divil himself, and when the men who bad
seed evil spirits prowlin' about when they were on post
tould him about thim, he always laughed at them for
cowards, and swore by the Houly Saint Patrick, he would
shoot the first wan iv thim that tuck it into his head to pay
him a visit. One dark night, jist such a night
a .
as this, it
happened to be Johnny's time to be on picket-guard.
Johạny Hogan had bin on post about an hour, whin the
church-bell of the village struck twelve, and just as the
last stroke died away, he heard a deep groan, proceedin' out
o'the ground close to where he was standin', and whin he
turned to look, what should he see but a tall white figure
risin' slowly out o' the ground. Johnny's hair stood up


184
MAJOR JONES.
like bristles, and he gasped for breath, but he was deter-
mined to challenge the awful tall figure, if it was ghost or
divil. So he brought his gun to his shoulder and called
out in a faint voice, 'Who goes there ?' for he didn't
know but it was somebody thrying to fool him. The tall
figure niver spoke a word, but seemed to get taller and
taller, and stretched out his long arm towards Johnny, and
beckoned to him as if he wanted to say something private
wid him. But Johnny stood his ground like a man, and
axed him again like a true souldier, 'Who goes there?
Speak,'sez he, or I'll fire! and wid that he cocked his gun;
but the tall figure niver minded the click o' the lock, no
more nor it had been a pop-gun. That kind iv scared
Johnny worse, for he knowed nothin' but a ghost could
hear the click iv his musket vidout speakin'. His knees
begun to feel weak, but he was determined not to back out,
and was jist going to pull the thrigger, when the tall figure
said in a hollow woice:
“I've come for ye, Johnny Hogan, and you must go wid
me to the cowld, cowld grave,' and thin he guv an awful
groan, and stretched out his arms wide enough to grasp
the whole regiment.
“I can't lave mc post widout orders,' sez Johnny.
" Follow me,' sez the ghost.
"
Niver,' sez Johnny.
". Then I'll take ye wid me,' sez the ghost.
“I'll see ye d—d first !' sez Johnny, pluckin' up cour-
a
2
666


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OP 1836.
185
age, seein' the ghost talked the same brogue wid himself.
Wid that the tall figure walked towards Johnny wid his
arms reached out to take hould iv him.
«« Stand and give the countersign !' sez Johnny.
“The grave,' sez the ghost.
« Not correct,'sez Johnny, and wid that he fired; but
;
the ghost niver stopped at all, though he wasn't more nor
a foot from the muzzle. The nixt moment he had Johnny
around the waist.
Sargeant o' the guard! Sargeant o'the guard !-mur-
ther !-Houly Saint Patrick pertect me!' shouted Johnny,
as he felt the cowld arms o'the ghost around him. He
heard a deep groan 'To the grave,' thin the ghost guv him
a squeeze, and Johnny niver know'd anything more till he
found himself in the guard-tint, where he had been carried
by the relief."
“ Then it wasn't a ghost after all ?” inquired several,
who had sat in breathless silence during the whole narra-
tion.
“No, it was all a trick played on Johnny by a mess-
mate, to cure him iv his braggin' purpiosities.”
“But wasn't he afraid Johnny would shoot him ?”
“Not wid no ball in his gun; he tuck care to draw the
ball before Johnny wint on post. He got the sheet and a
little flour from the drummer's wife, and afther he guv
Johnny the squeeze, and left him sinseless upon theground,
he ran into his tent, brushed the flour from his face, and
>


186
MAJOR JONES.
was among the first to hear the awful account of the whole
matther from Johnny, who liked never to recover from the
fright, and couldn't spake a word till he'd swallowed a pint
iv the crathur.”
Patrick, who had become envious of the popularity which
Phelim had acquired at the fire, now became very insolent
and quarrelsome with his rival.
“It's a big lie from beginning to ind,” said he, with a
contemptuous sneer at the narrator, who sat on the end of
a log, smoking a short pipe which he held in his teeth.
“Now jist keep yer tongue to yerself, ye little spalpeen,"
replied Phelim, kindling at the insolence of one whom he
considered so far his inferior. “If the gintlemen hadn't
.
more perliteness nor you have breedin', they'd ordher ye
away from the fire."
“ I'm as welcome here as yerself, ye lying thief o' the
world; didn't ye stale the captain's rations, ye bla’guard ?”
“Yer a liar !" replied Phelim.
The next moment the pipe which he was smoking was
broken into twenty pieces by Patrick, who sprang like a
cat across the fire, and dealt him a blow full in the mouth.
In another moment the dexter arm of the wounded Phelim
was raised, and descended upon the head of poor Patrick
with the force of a sledge-hammer, which sent him with
such velocity to the ground, that his heels few up, and he
actually made two distinct kicks heavenward before his
lower extremities again reached the earth. Phelim then
>
a
1


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
187
picked up a barrel-stave and addressed the prostrate Pat-
rick:
“Now gather yerself up, and take yerself off from here,
or I'll break ivery bone in the d—d dirty hide iv ye.”
After a moment Patrick Fagan did gather himself up
and take himself away, casting a subdued look at the com-
pany about the fire, as he took his departure, but without
uttering a word.
It had now grown late; the smouldering chunks were
nearly extinguished, and we retired to our tents to dream
of Johnny Hogan and the ghost.
NUMBER FIVE.
THE GENERAL'S HORSE.
DURING the whole campaign I do not believe that there
was a single court-martial convened in the wing of the
army to which our corps belonged, and I am certain that
there was not a single individual in the company who was
either officially arrested, tried or punished. The greatest
penalty inflicted upon any of our members was, on one or
two occasions, when a rather turbulent fellow was required
to keep in his tent for a few hours, by our own officers. The
very judicious remarks of Colonel Lindsay, on mustering
а.


188
MAJOR JONES.
us into service were not made in vain; and I shall always
consider that the brief address delivered to us on that occa-
sion produced much of that spirit of subordination and sol-
dier-like bearing for which our corps were so highly com-
plimented by our commanding generals, Scott and Clinch.
But the same cannot be said of other branches of the
Florida army. Indeed quite the reverse was the case in
some of the volunteer battalions belonging to the left wing,
or Colonel Lindsay's command. Speaking of these troops,
one of their commanding officers remarked that “one might
storm h–II with such men, if he could but command them,"
which would seem to imply that want of discipline was their
greatest fault. Courts-martial with them were as common
as reveille.
While our wing was encamped on the beach, at Tampa,
a friend who belonged to Colonel Lindsay's command, which
was then encamped in the vicinity of Fort Brooks, on the
opposite bank of the Hillsborough, invited me to dine with
him. Accordingly, after procuring permission to leave the
camp, I accompanied my friend to his quarters. He was
admirably well skilled in the cuisine of the camp, and was
au fait in the science of frying fritters, in which particular
lie excelled to such an eminent degree as to render it the
common boast of his mess, that when he was cook,
“Every paunch, till it can hold no more,
Is fritter filled as well as heart can wish."


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
189
a
And then he was a perfect Ude in the art of boiling peas,
to cook which I have often tried, but always failed, until
initiated by him into the culinary mystery. In return for
his kindness I showed him how to make a Withlacoochee
Razee, * and by our united skill a dinner was produced such
as had not greeted my palate for many a day; and with a
canteen of sour wine, wbich we procured from the sutler,
we were enabled to make a sumptuous meal.
We had completed our repast, and were sitting beneath
the shade of my friend's tent, talking of events in either
army; he telling me the “fortunes, sieges he had passed,"
and I recounted mine to him, when our attention was at-
tracted by a dialogue something like the following:
“I don't care a d-n! I didn't come here to build brick
ovens for other folks to bake bread in. I came here to
hunt Indians.”
“Yes, but you know that's the general's orders, and you
must take your turn with the rest.”
“I tell you I'm no brick mason, and I'm not agoing to
do
any
such thing."
* The Withlacoochee Razee was a very popular dish with the Blues,
and takes its name from having been invented by them at a time when
their rations were very short, while encamped on the banks of the With-
lacoochee. On that occasion the haversacks were emptied of the crumbs
of bread which were left, which, being put into a tin-cup with a few
small pieces of bacon or fat pork, were stewed to what was called "
perfect razee.” It afterwards became a popular dish, and whole biscuits
were often broken up and stewed in like manner.
a


190
MAJOR JONES.
“Yes, but you must!"
“No, but I won't !”
“Then you'll have to ride the general's horse again, as
sure as fate.”
Well, I'd rather do that than tote brick and mortar.”
“Then I must report you."
“Well, report and be d-d, for what I care. Let them
build the oven who want biscuits baked in it-I bake my
bread in the ashes."
“ Very good; I shall report you,” was the reply, and
the dialogue ceased.
“What's all that about ?” I inquired of my friend, who
had been laughing heartily all the while.
Why,” says he," they had us building a large oven here,
to bake army bread in; for which purpose a detail of three
men from each company is regularly taken every day. They
had me there yesterday, making mortar all day. But
they've detailed Bill Jenkins to-day, I see, who would
rather fight than work at any time, and would rather ride
the general's horse, as they call it, than either.”
“I wonder who wouldn't," I replied; “I'd take that
job off Bill's hands myself, for the remainder of the cam-
paign.”
“ You would, eh !" smiled my friend ;“I fear you'd rue
it if you did. I rather expect our general's horse is not the
. I
nag you take him to be.”
“No? What, is he skittish ?”
>


THE FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
191
a
“Oh, no; gentle as a lamb.”
“ Bad gait then, I suppose ?"
“Not at all, wouldn't know that he was moving in a
day's ride.”
“What are his objectionable qualities, then ?" I inquired
with some curiosity.
“ Nothing that you have hinted at,” replied my friend
laughingly; "if you'll step out here upon the parade-ground
I'll show him to you.'
We took a few steps from the tent and my friend pointed
to a large rough pine log which was supported by three
legs raised about ten feet from the ground.
“There,” said he," there is our general's horse; if you are
anxious to mount, he is at present at your service, though
I think, from what the corporal said, Bill Jenkins will
take an airing on him this evening.”
Of course I declined the honor.
“Then this is the way you punish delinquents, is it?”
“Yes, we either mark time, or ride the horse; some
prefer walking, others like to ride. Bill's sure to take the
horse.”
I had some little curiosity to see the termination of Bill's
case; the more so as my friend had described him to be a
droll genius, and one who generally took such matters very
coolly, and bore their affliction with the resignation of a
soldier.
Bill's contempt of orders was inmediately laid before the


192
MAJOR JONES.
court-martial then in session, and the corporal returned to
see judgment executed upon him.
“I told you so, Bill," said the corporal approaching,
"you are to mount the horse."
“Well, I always said if ever I volunteered to hunt In-
dians again, that I should prefer belonging to a horse-com-
pany,” said Bill; “I'm ready; where's the hostler ?”
The corporal posted off after the supernumerary guard,
whose duty it is on such occasions to guard the prisoner,
but who, when there is no special duty of this kind to per-
form, generally lies in the shade and sleeps, while he whose
luck it is to belong to the regular guard is doing duty. The
corporal approached a large, lazy-looking fellow, who lay
snoring in the shade of an orange tree, and shaking him by
the leg,
"
" I say, Johnson, Johnson, wake up and get your gun;
you must go and do duty at the horse.”
Johnson rolled over on his back and rubbed his eyes.
“ What—eh–I don't belong to that relief—I'm su-per-
nu-mer-ray-ry-oh”— and went to sleep again.
“Pshaw !-pshaw !-wake up,” said the corporal, giving
a harder shake than before.
“Hello! hello!" grunted Johnson, rubbing his eyes as if
he would rub them out," what do you want ?”
The corporal explained, and Johnson got upon his feet,
stretching, gaping, and grumbling. The corporal marched
his prisoner off to his horse. Johnson was as mad as ven-


THE FLORIDA OAMPAIGN OF 1836.
193
geance at Bill, who only laughed at the ill-humor of his
hostler, as he called him, reminding him that such little jobs
were common to folks concerned in livery stables. After
coaxing his charger to be gentle, and complaining of the
manner in which he had been curried and fed, for all which
neglect he blamed Johnson, Bill asked the corporal for a “leg
up," and mounted. As soon as fairly settled in his seat, he
commenced urging him forward, as if he were backing
horse flesh “ for true.”
“Get up-get up, you lazy tacky!” said Bill. “I say,
Mr. Hostler, give me a switch; this is a doukey'vot von't
yo,' as the song says.”
“I wouldn't be such a fool,” said Johnson, as he paced
to and fro by the side of the horse, looking sulkily at the
ground without raising his head.
“Hut-tut!” said Bill,“ don't be crusty, my old boy; I
know you feel a little chagrined to see me so well mounted,
while you are on foot, but who knows but it may be your
turn next?”
Not by a jugful,” said Johnson, tartly, “I don't make
such a fool of myself.”
“Well, Johnson, perhaps you would make a fool of your-
self; 'taint every one can bear promotion, you know.”
“Oh, you're a fool, and I wish you was out of the com-
pany, for you're eternally putting some one to trouble. I
needn't done a turn to-day, but for you; now I've got to
a
13


194
MAJOR JONES.
>
walk up and down here all day in the sun, just because you
are too d-d lazy to do your share of the work."
“Don't take it so hard, my dear fellow; my Rozinante
can carry double, and if you'll just stir him up with your
frog-sticker there, till we come to a stump, you may get
on behind.”
“How smart! I wish you wouldn't talk to me."
Well, now,
I didn't mean to offend. I've seen the time
I'd be glad to get a seat behind.”
Thus Bill Jenkins continued to bore and gibe the surly
supernumerary, until he wrought upon his choler to such
a degree that he even threatened to pull him off the horse
and beat him. When Johnson was relieved, “the new
body-guard,” as Bill called him, was harassed in like
manner.
Presently the officer of the day and one or two of the
commanding general's staff passed near the horse. On seeing
them approach, Bill commenced patting his Rozinante on
the side.
“Who-a-who-a! gentle, my bonny nag,-who-a—
who-a!" said Bill, as with his left hand he raised his cap to
salute them.
The officers, endeavoring not to notice bim, altered their
course so as to avoid approaching nearer.
“Don't be alarmed, gentlemen, he'll not kick!-who-a-
who-a, gentle now! He's very tractable, even the thunder of


TAB FLORIDA CAMPAIGN OF 1836.
195
the Withlacoochee couldn't startle him-who-a, bonny! I
would recommend him to the general himself.”
The officers laughed outright and passed on.
Thus Bill Jenkins sat upon his horse like the bronze statue
at Charing Cross, regardless of the penetrating rays of the
sun, or the gibes and jeers of his fellow-soldiers, until even-
ing parade, when he was released; and though I did not
envy him his ride, I could not but admire the waggish
sang froid which he exhibited in turning into sport, even
the infliction of a ride, before the whole army, upon the
“General's Horse."





WHAT HAPPENED IN THE SUGAR-
CAMPS
OF THE MAHONING VALLEY.
а
"
a
6
“MAPLE-SUGAR! what's maple-sugar ?" asked my little
grandson, whose attention had been attracted by a placard
in a shop-window bearing these words.
“It is a kind of sugar," said I, "made from the sap of
the maple-tree.”
“Trees, grandpa! How can the people grind the trees ?”
They don't grind the trees, as we do the cane," I. re-
plied; "they tap them."
“Tap them!” he repeated. “How tap them, grandpa ?
What for ?"
“To obtain the sap from which the sugar is made.”
But this explanation did not satisfy the curiosity which
the placard had excited, and, after I had procured for him
a few small cakes of the “maple-sugar,” which he declared
was “as sweet as candy,” I was compelled to go into a long
explanation of the manner in which maple-sugar is obtained
(197)


198
MAJOR JONES.
from the sap of the maple-tree, so different from the process
by which cane-sugar is made.
And this explanation carried me back half a century to
the days of my boyhood, and brought up recollections of
some of the happiest hours of my life spent in the sugar-
camps near my native village in Ohio. How strange that
a trivial circumstance should have awakened in my mind
the recollection of scenes and occurrences of early childhood,
as vividly as if they were of yesterday! But so it is. As
we advance in life, daily passing events fade from our rec-
ollection almost with their occurrence, seemingly crowding
each other from our thoughts, while the impressions of our
youthful days remain indelibly impressed upon the tablets
of our memory. While I write, the scenes, incidents, and
pleasures of my experience in the sugar-camps of the
Mahoning Valley, more than fifty years ago, are fresher in
my recollection than many of the most important events of
my life that have occurred within the few years past.
“Sugar-making time !” How many pleasant memories
are associated in my mind with these words-memories of
boyhood, of parents, family, home, in the wild West, long,
long ago! But I must not indulge the reflections which
these memories inspire. I have something to say about
maple-sugar making, and a little story, a true story, con-
nected therewith, to relate; and to this task I address my-
self, before my thoughts are driven into another, perhaps a
neutralizing, channel.


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY. 199
a
What is now the flourishing city of Ravenna, at the time
of which I write, about the year 1816, might have been
very appropriately called a Western “white-oak opening."
It was, however, called a town, and, though comprising
only some twenty or thirty families, with as many hewn
log and frame houses, two taverns, three or four stores, a
school-house, blacksmith's shop, two doctors' and two or
three lawyers' offices, shoemaker and tailor shops, claimed
some importance in the new world of the Western Reserve
as the county-seat of Portage County. As such, of course,
it had a court-house and a jail—the former a rather preten-
tious, two-story, frame building, which served also for a
church; the latter a substantial structure of hewn logs.
The town occupied the crown of a gentle eminence, the
main streets or roads leading away from the public square
in the centre at right angles, in strict conformity with the
points of the compass—the court-house being in the centre
of the square, and so exactly upon the summit that the water
which fell from the eaves on the south side flowed, through
varions channels, into the Atlantic Ocean, while that which
fell from the north side found its way into the Gulf of
Mexico. This is a notorious and not uninteresting fact,
and, if the levels have not changed with everything else
since that day, the rains of summer and the dissolving
snows of winter take the same directions from the roof of
the grander edifice which now occupies the site of the old
court-house of my boyhood days.


200
MAJOR JONES,
This portion of the Western Reserve, or the "New Eng-
land Western Reserve," as it was called, had received its
pioneer settlers only a year or two before the breaking out
of the War of 1812. Up to within a very short period
before the war, the country had been occupied almost ex-
clusively by the Indians (the name of the tribe I forget),
who had, however, entirely disappeared after the close of
the war, in which they had been engaged as allies of the
British. The surrounding forests still contained traces of
them, such as ruined huts, mounds, and graves, and the
nursery was entertained with stories of their savage cruelty,
while the walls of the taverns and other public places, and
some private houses, were adorned with rudely drawn and
gaudily painted pictures, representing scenes of the fearful
massacres which they had perpetrated in the vicinity.
Small farms had been laid out for the distance of a mile
or two around the town, but beyond, the country was almost
an unbroken wilderness. The land was of the richest
quality, and the timber extremely heavy, so that the open-
ing of farms by the settlers, most of whom were poor and
obliged to rely upon their own labor, was a slow and tedious
operation. But, already the hardy pioneer bad made his
mark upon the primeval forest, and had begun that system
of persevering, self-reliant industry, frugality, and enter-
prise, which was not long in converting the idle wilderness
into fruitful fields, and which has since built towns and
large cities, railroads, canals, and manufactories, and made
а


THE BUGAR-CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY. 201
>
Ohio one of the wealthiest and most populous States of the
Union.
In the northeasterly direction, some three or four miles
from the Ravenna settlement, lay the valley of the Mahon-
ing. This valley was densely and heavily timbered, so
densely that the sunlight was scarcely ever reflected from
the bosom of the small stream which gave it its name, and
which, fed by numerous tributary brooklets, pursued its
tortuous course to unite its crystal waters with those of the
Beaver River, which flows into the Ohio. The forests of
the valley comprised the usual variety of trees peculiar to
this portion of the West—various species of the oak, beech,
ash, hickory, walnut, poplar, birch, and maple—the sugar-
maple largely predominating. Hence the valley might have
been called one vast sugar-camp. As such it had been used
by the Indians, traces of whose rude system of sugar-culture
were still to be seen, the only visible evidences that these
trackless solitudes had ever been invaded by man. There
was a solemn grandeur and beauty in the wild, unbroken
forest, where the thick-standing trees reared their stately
trunks far above, and the interlacing branches, even when
stripped of their foliage, afforded but glimpses of the blue
canopy overhead. No path save the faded trail of the now
departed Indian, or the dim trackway of the wild deer,
traversed this vast solitude. No sound but the cry of the
panther, the howl of the wolf, or the hoot of the owl, at
night, or the call of the wild turkey, and the drum of the


202
MAJOR JONES.
a
pheasant, in the daytime, waked the echoes of those sylvan
depths. Even the hunter scarcely ever penetrated the dark
and trackless woods in search of game, which at that time
he found in abundance nearer the settlements.
Only in the spring was the valley invaded, and then only
during “sugar-making time.” This occurred about the
middle of March, and continued generally about three
weeks, extending sometimes into April, according to the
backwardness or forwardness of the season.
At this season
it was customary to locate what were called sugar-camps in
the Mahoning Valley, and those who worked them not only
made sugar enough to supply their families for the year,
but a considerable surplus for sale. “Sugar-making time”
was looked forward to with great interest, especially by the
young, not only because it brought that most delicious of
all sweet things-hot maple-sugar—but because it afforded
an opportunity for the enjoyment of the novelty and free-
dom of camp-life in the woods. It was fashionable, too,
among the families of the settlement, to go "a-sugar-
making ;” and the children whose fathers had no sugar-
camp were esteemed especially unfortunate. The labor of
sugar-making was very rough and arduous, but there was
sometbing so attractive in camp-life, that young men, who
had no special fondness for hard work, were always on
hand at “sugar-making time.”
My father was the fortunate lessee of a very large sugar-
camp, comprising about one thousand of the finest sugar-


THE SUGAR-CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY.
203
maple trees. This camp had in former years been worked
by the Indians. A tragedy had occurred there, and more
than one wild legend had invested the place with a fearful
interest in the minds of the ignorant and superstitious.
*
*
*
In the care of a hired man, a young German by the
name of Muttinger, in whom my mother placed every con-
fidence, I had been permitted to go to the camp, to remain
till the close of the season, which was nearly spent. The
camp was worked by three young men, including Mut-
tinger, under the direction of my father, who paid it fre-
quent visits, but rarely remained in camp over night. I
staid in camp some two weeks, all of which time, until the
last night, was to me one uninterrupted experience of en-
joyment. I was a favorite with the young men, especially
with Mr. Muttinger, who allowed me the largest liberty,
and did everything in his power to make my time pass
happily. He permitted me to ride on the sledge with him
when he went to gather sap, showed me how to broil bacon
on the end of a stick, and how to bake hoe-cakes; let
me eat as much sugar as I could, made sugar-eggs and
sweethearts and other sugar toys for me, allowing me occa-
sionally to have a “stirring off” of my own, for which
purpose he fixed me up a miniature boiling-place for my
kettle, and took care that I had a snug place in the straw
and blankets at night. Every day had its pleasures and
excitements. A deer or a turkey was killed—there was


204
MAJOR JONES.
lots of sugar, lots of good eating, and lots of fun-and,
surfeited with enjoyment, I went nightly to my straw and
I
blankets to enjoy sound sleep and pleasant dreams. The
only drawback to my perfect happiness was the conscious-
ness that each day drew nearer the time for breaking up
the camp.
The red buds were beginning to tip the spray of the
maple trees, showing that the sugar-making season was
near its close. The flow of sap had already begun to
diminish, and some of the smaller camps in the valley
were breaking up. The close of the season was a period of
visiting and merry-making among the sugar-makers, many
of whom were Germans, who had their families, wives and
daughters with them, and every night there was a frolic
in some one of the camps. Occasionally we had friendly
visits from our neighbors, but, as a general thing, our camp
was avoided, especially by the young boys and girls, in
consequence of certain superstitious associations connected
with its history.
I have before alluded to the fact that a mysterious
tragedy had occurred in our camp. An old squaw, the
wife of a noted Indian chief, who had been left alone in the
camp for a short time—so the story ran—was, on the re-
turn of her friends, found dead, her head and shoulders
resting in a kettle of boiling syrup. By some it was sup-
posed that she had fallen into the kettle. But there were
also suspicions of foul play, and a white man, a trapper, of
a


THE SUGAR-CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY.
205
notorious bad character, between whom and the chief there
existed an old feud, was strongly suspected of having mur-
dered his wife in revenge. Shortly after the death of the
squaw, the trapper mysteriously disappeared, and it was
uncertain whether he had fled or had been disposed of by
the Indians. The grave of the squaw, marked by a mound
of earth and logs, was situated only a short distance from
our boiling-place, and was passed by the sugar-makers in
the twilight, or later in the night, with feelings of super-
stitious dread, while it was strictly maintained by many
that the old squaw's ghost did not rest quietly, but roamed
through the camps, especially in dark and stormy nights.
Several had seen her apparition, and the stories that were
related of her appearance were of the most frightful and
harrowing character.
One evening two or three young men from the adjoining
camps paid us a visit. After supper, while they were seated
before the fire on the rough puncheon benches, enjoying their
pipes and the contents of a stone jug, conversation turned
on the mysterious death of the old squaw, and the strange
stories that were in circulation about her spirit-wanderings
through the camps. None of the party present had ever
seen her ghost with their own eyes, but other persons,
friends of theirs, in whose assertions they placed the fullest
reliance, had seen her more than once, on dark stormy
nights, riding at full speed through the thick woods, on
the white horse which she rode in her lifetime, and which,


206
MAJOR JONES.
>
it was said, was killed and buried with her. The descrip-
tions which they gave of her frightful appearance, and the
shrieks which she uttered, as, on her phantom steed, she
dashed through the dark forest, her long, grizzly hair
streaming out, and her garments flapping in the wind,
made my hair stand on end, and the blood chill in my
veins.
It was said that the family to which the old squaw be-
longed were rich, and as it was the custom of the Indians
to bury the personal property of their dead with them, it
was generally believed that her grave contained a large
amount of treasure.
“It would be a good thing," said one, “to dig up the
old squaw, and get the money that they buried with her.”
,
“And the silver bands and rings, and brooches as big
as a pewter plate, that she used to wear,” remarked another.
"Yes, that would be very nice; and all that silver is no
good in the old woman's grave. But I'd like to see the
chap that would run the risk of being haunted all the rest
of his life, by digging her up!"
“Pooh! nonsense !” exclaimed Muttinger, knocking the
ashes from his pipe. “Dat ish all nonsense, all fool-talk.
“
If I be sure dere vas money in de old voman's grafe, I
wouldn't mind to go for it, no more dan shmokin' mine
bipe.”
“But suppose her ghost was to come after you, Muttin-
ger, what then?"


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY. 207
a
“Ghost der tuyfel ! I ain'd afraid of no old voman spooks,
vat scare leetle childrens in de night-time.”
Muttinger had been a soldier in the war, and had, accord-
ing to his account, been in many battles, and one of his weak-
nesses was to boast of his bravery.
A long and rather excited discussion was closed with a
wager of a jug of whiskey that Muttinger would not dare,
on the following day, to dig up and bring away the relics
of the old squaw. This bet, having been duly ratified and
attested by a general shaking of hands, the young men left
for their respective camps.
On the following day, Muttinger was evidently reluc-
tant to perform what he had undertaken, but, impelled by
his bet and the hope of plunder, after vainly endeavoring
to persuade others to accompany him, he braced his waver-
ing courage with a stiff drink of whiskey, and set out alone
on his sacrilegious enterprise.
An hour afterwards he returned to camp with his plun-
der, which consisted of an old, battered, brass kettle, a rusty
rifle-barrel, some brass mountings, a tomahawk, several
clay pipes, a pair of silverarmlets, a number of silver rings,
brooches, and other trinkets, with the jaw-bone of the old
squaw, which latter he exhibited in a spirit of triumphant
bravado.
The news of the robbery of the old squaw's grave soon
spread among the camps, and, during the afternoon, many
came to view the relics. All reproached Muttinger for


208
MAJOR JONES.
66
what he had done, but especially for bringing away the
jawbone, which they urged him to replace in the grave.
But Muttinger seemed to grow reckless under the remon-
strances of his friends, and exercised his wit in ridiculing
their sensibility.
“Take it back, Muttinger, if you don't want to see the
old squaw's ghost this very night,” said one.
“ Der tuyfel!” exclaimed Muttinger; "what the old
voman want mit her jawbone? She can do mitout that,
just like she don't vant no more her brass kettle."
“ Lookout if she don't come after it before to-morrow
morning."
Vel, maybe," said Muttinger. “Den I vill put it vere
she can see it, and she don't get it if she don't climb for it.”
So saying, he climbed up one of the forks of the boiling-
place, and fastened the jawbone conspicuously on the top.
Coming down, he laughed heartily at the idea of the old
squaw's ghost climbing for the missing portion of her
anatomy.
As evening approached, the visitors departed, each with
a solemn warning to Muttinger to be on the lookout for a
visit from the old squaw's ghost. But Muttinger was too
full of whiskey to feel any apprehension of any other spirits,
,
and only laughed at their admonitions.
That night there was to be, in the settlement, some three
miles distant, a grand wedding; a wedding of the good old
frontier fashion-with a ball and a supper—to which every-


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY.
209
a
body was invited. One of our sugar-makers had gone home
with a sledge-load of sugar and molasses, leaving in camp
only Muttinger, a young man named Wolf, and myself.
Wolf was extremely anxious to go to Captain Smith's wed-
ding, but, before he could do so, it was necessary for him
to get Muttinger's consent for him to be absent for the
night. To obtain this, he offered to cut all the wood nec-
essary for the night, and made many strong appeals and
tempting promises, all without effect. Muttinger was un-
willing to be left alone to do all the work of the camp.
Wolf, however, accidentally struck him in a tender place,
and, by what he meant for reproach, accomplished what he
failed to gain by persuasion.
“ I see,” said he, "you are afraid to stay here alone. You
are afraid the old
squaw
will
come after
you.”
“ 'Fraid, der tuyfel !” exclaimed Muttinger, starting up.
“Me, a soldier who has fight enough times mit tousands
live Indians! Me 'fraid of old squaw! Chop all de wood,
und go und dance mit the gals, like you please. If the
old squaw comes here, Villiam und me vil dance mit her.”
Wolf took Muttinger at his word. He soon cut and
piled, near the boiling-place, enough wood to keep the ket-
tles boiling during the night. Then mounting the only
horse left in camp, he was soon on his way to Captain
Smith's wedding, not even waiting for supper, which Mut-
tinger set about preparing.
I was very hungry, and enjoyed with a relish a slice of
14


210
MAJOR JONES.
bacon broiled before the fire on the end of a sharpened
stick, a piece of corn hoe-cake, and a bowl of milk.' Mut-
tinger ate ravenously, and was in an unusually good humor.
As the shades of night drew on, the stars peeped out
overhead, and the fire sent forth a soft, mellow radiance
upon surrounding objects, lighting up the foreground of the
wild scene, as it deepened the shadows beyond; while the
blue smoke, mingled with the paler vapor of the boiling-
kettles, and illumined with bright, red sparks, curled up-
ward to the midnight sky. Muttinger, who seemed rest-
less, was unusually busy about the kettles, spilling the sap
which he attempted to dip from one kettle to another, and
piling on the wood with unwonted prodigality. As he
moved around he endeavored to keep me engaged in conver-
sation, and, when I failed him, he whistled or sang his
favorite German airs.
Fatigued with the day's exercise and enjoyment, and
drowsy from the effects of a heavy supper, I was not in a
talkative mood, and as I sat upon my puncheon stool, looking
into the fire, watching the fantastic figures which my fancy
pictured in the eddying smoke, it was with difficulty that I
could keep awake. Muttinger tried every expedient to
As he was taking a drink from his brown jug,
he insisted on making a toddy for me, which he said would
keep me “bright avake all de vile.” The sugar in it com-
mended the prescription to my taste, and I tested its virtues
pretty liberally.
arouse me.


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OP MAHONING VALLEY.
211
"
Muttinger lighted his pipe and seated himself to enjoy a
smoke, at the same time to entertain me with one of his
stories of the war, which he knew I so much loved to hear.
“ Vil you keep bright avake, now ?” he asked.
Ob, yes," I replied, “if you will tell me about the
battle of Brady's Lake, where you killed so many In-
dians.”
“Vel,” said Muttinger, "you don't go to sleep, und I
vil tell you all about de big fight vat ve had mit the In-
dians dat time. Vel, it was a bright, sthar-like night, just
like to-night"- As he spoke, he raised his eyes-his pipe
dropped from his hand, and his gaze seemed riveted upon
the top of the boiler-pot, where the old squaw's jawbone
shone in the firelight.
“Look! look!” he exclaimed, in a husky, tremulous voice.
It was either the effect of the whiskey on my imagina-
tion, or of the flickering firelight, that made the jawbone
appear to me as if it were in motion.
“Oh!” said I, “it's biting at us,” and I ran to our
camp-bed and covered my head in the blankets.
I could hear Muttinger talking to himself, but whether
in English or in his native tongue I could not tell.
The next moment he seized me by the arm and raised me
to my feet.
Don't you be a little fool cowart like dat,” said he. “No
old deat squaw's jawbone don't hurt you, Billy. Come,
sthay mit me.”
a
"


212
MAJOR JONES.'
“I'm afraid," I replied. “I don't want to look at it
any more.”
>
“ Vel,” said he, “I vil put it vere it don't scare nobody.”
He climbed up the post, and, seizing the jawbone, threw
it in the midst of the fire under the kettles. Then, taking
me in his lap, he endeavored to banish my foolish fears, by
assuring me that when the old jawbone was burned
up
it
could hurt nobody
“But,” said I, “Mr. Stough says the old squaw's ghost
rides all over these woods on a white horse, and I'm afraid
she'll come after her jawbone. It was wicked to take it
from her grave, and worse to burn it up."
By this time the sky, which in the early part of the
night had been clear, began to be overcast with drifting
clouds, and a strong wind swept in fitful gusts among the
tree-tops.
Muttinger seemed very restless and disturbed in his mind.
He tried to dissipate my fears, but it was very evident that
he was himself not entirely free from apprehensions of evil.
He talked incoherently, took another heavy drink, and
whistled and sang terribly out of tune. He relit his pipe, and
made me sit by him on the bench, near the mouth of the
cabin. He grew more and more restless, large drops of per-
spiration stood on his forehead, and at every gust of wind
or strange noise, he would start almost to his feet, exclaim-
ing, “ Vat's dat?”
?
For myself, my superstitious fears had been wrought up


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY.
213
I
to a fearful pitch, pot less by the events of the night than
by the recollection of the frightful stories I had heard of
the old squaw's ghost, and my only refuge was the cover
of the blankets or in clinging close to Muttinger.
Muttinger, who by this time had become fearfully demor-
alized, sought to brace his courage by frequent draughts
from his jug, and insisted on my taking another toddy.
After I had recovered from the coughing-fit which a
drop the wrong way bad occasioned, he slapped me en-
couragingly on the back, and said:
“Dat's right, Billy! Spunk up, spunk up, now, and
don't never be 'fraid of spooks nor nothing. I tell you
dere never vas no such tings in all de world.”
Whether it was the effect of the double dose of toddy or
the reassuring speech of my companion I cannot say, but I
did feel a little more at ease, and was gradually becoming
oblivious of the frightful imaginings that had oppressed
my
mind, when a shrill, unearthly scream, seemingly from the
depths of the dark forest, broke upon our ears.
“Gott in himmel! vat’s dat?” shouted Muttinger,
springing to his feet and grasping me by the arm.
I felt each separate hair rise on end, and my heart, after
a sudden bound, ceased to beat. Muttinger stood with open
mouth and suspended breath, his eyes glaring wildly in
the direction whence the unearthly sound came.
Another wild, blood-curdling scream, nearer than the
first, caused Muttinger to spring forward, still holding to
a


214
MAJOR JONES.
my arm. As we reached the space between the mouth of
the hut and the boiling-place, there dashed suddenly past
us, in the rear of the blazing fire, a white borse bearing a
gigantic female form, with flowing garments, and long
white hair streaming on the wind.
I was speechless and fixed to the spot. Muttinger gave
one agonized yell and bounded from me, as the phantom-
horse wheeled round the camp-fire toward us, and another
wild scream pierced the night. I only remember that
Muttinger disappeared. I reeled to the puncheon bunk,
falling upon which I plunged my head under the straw and
blankets.
Whether I became suddenly insensible from fright, or
the liquor I had drunk stupefied my senses, I never was
able satisfactorily to determine. But in that moment ended
my experiences of that fearful night. When I awoke to
consciousness, it was to feel the strong grasp of some one
who was endeavoring to draw me from my hiding-place,
and from whom, with screams of terror, I struggled to
escape.
“Why, what in the name of creation is the matter with
you, Willy? Who's been here? Where's Muttinger ?”
were the first words I comprehended. Looking up, I found
myself in the hands of John Wolf, who regarded me with
utter astonishment.
Rubbing my eyes and looking round for a moment, I
began to comprehend the situation. It was bright daylight.


TAB 80G AR-CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY.
215
Mr. Wolf had returned, and I was safe. The fire was
out, and only the half-burned logs and chunks remained,
from which the thin, blue smoke curled up into the bright
morning sunlight. There was a strong smell of burnt sugar
in the air, and the kettles were cold and black, some of
them half-full of charred sugar. As Mr. Wolf surveyed
the scene in utter dismay, he repeated his question:
“Why, what upon earth has happened? What has be-
come of Muttinger ?”
“He's carried off by the old squaw's ghost!” was the
only solution I could give to the mystery; and, having by
this time become wide awake, I related to Mr. Wolf the
frightful events of the night as they occurred.
I had hardly finished my narrative before several per-
sons from the adjoining camps arrived. Each had a mar-
vellous story to relate of strange noises heard and strange
sights seen in the valley during the night. One had heard
the most unearthly screams; another had seen the ghost of
the old squaw careering madly through the woods, on
her white horse; while another told that, as he and two or
three more were playing cards by their camp-fire, the
phantom steed and its ghostly rider dashed almost over
them, frightening the party nearly out of their senses.
Others from different parts of the valley came in, each
with some fearful tale of the ghostly doings of the night.
“But what has become of Muttinger ?” was the general
inquiry, and I was obliged to rehearse my story, as afford-


216
MAJOR JONES.
a
ing the only explanation of his mysterious disappearance.
The fearful anxiety on that individual's account was finally
relieved by the arrival of one of the Stough boys, from his
father's camp on the opposite side of the Mahoning, about
half a mile distant. From him we learned that about mid-
night Muttinger came running into his father's camp, so
paralyzed with fear that he could scarcely articulate, his
eyes glaring wildly, his face pale, and his clothes torn and
dripping wet. In answer to their questions, he only ground
out something about the old squaw's ghost, and soon fell to
the ground in a hard convulsion. They forced some whiskey
down his throat, rolled aņd rubbed him, and sent for the
nearest doctor, who had been with him since daylight, but
who had little hopes of his recovery.
All this not only corroborated my story, but, in the
minds of the superstitious sugar-makers, confirmed the
ghostly legends which had been previously current among
them; and the excitement throughout the valley became
intense. Fortunately, it was about the breaking up of the
sugar-making season, or much loss would have been sus-
tained by the immediate abandonment of the camps which
took place. Many could not be prevailed upon to remain
another night, but packed up and left that day, while
those who were unable to leave so precipitately took good
care not to be alone after nightfall.
Muttinger, partially restored from the effects of his fright,
was sent home, but for several days was in a very precari-


THE SUGAR -CAMPS OF MAHONING VALLEY. 217
1
.
ous condition. It was many weeks before he was consid-
ered to have recovered his right mind. His account of the
appearance of the ghost, its pursuit of him through the
woods, and his narrow escape by crossing a running stream
-which he did by plunging into the half-frozen Mahon-
ing, nearly up to his neck—was truly thrilling, and was as
religiously believed by most of his hearers as by himself.
There were some incredulous persons, however, who
laughed at the story of the old squaw's ghost, and gave a
different explanation of the thrilling events of that memora-
ble night. For Graves, who made the bet of a jug of whis-
key with the boasting Muttinger, was known to be a most
incorrigible wag and practical joker. It had been ascer-
tained that farmer Sap's white filly was missing from the
stable on that night; and it was rumored that the farmer's
daughters, one of whom was Joe's sweetheart, had assisted
him in getting up a ghostly costume, similar in every par-
ticular to that in which the ola squaw's ghost made its
night-ride through the sugar camps of the Mahoning
Valley.
Joe Graves stoutly denied any knowledge of that night's
doings; but this was accounted for by the fact that it would
have been dangerous for him to have done otherwise-at
least while Muttinger was about.





TAE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
A FRONTIER SKETCH.
CHAPTER I.
It was a sultry afternoon in June. The Governor had
given a small dinner party, and a select company were
seated around the table, in the dining hall of the old Execu-
tive Mapsion, an airy, but not very imposing structure,
pleasantly situated on an elevation, embowered in shrub-
bery, distant about a mile east from Tallahassee. Ample
justice had been done to the bountiful repast, and the gen-
tlemen were sipping their sherry, and the ladies mincing
the confections, while they listened to a rather prosy story
from one of the guests.
Suddenly, a suppressed cry from one of the ladies startled
the company. Following the gaze of the terrified lady, all
.
,
eyes were directed towards the door leading from the rear
porch into the dining-room, where stood still and statue-
like a tall, gaunt, bare-legged Indian, his shoulders inclining
forward with a slight stoop, and his elfin locks hanging
(219)


220
MAJOR JONES.
.
over, and partly obscuring the view of his face. Imme-
diately in his rear, in the shadow of the vines that clam-
bered over the trellis, stood another tawny balf-naked form,
motionless and statue-like as his companion.
Bidding the ladies not to be alarmed, the Governor rose
from his seat, and turned towards the Indians in the door.
As be did so, the nearest drew from his bosom a small roll
of dirty brown paper, and seemingly without moving a
muscle of his face, or changing the stolid expression of his
countenance, said:
“ Gublerner ?”
“I am the Governor," said his Excellency.
( What
brings you here?”
“Snezer make talk me, Yohoto, fetch 'em," at the same
time extending the hand in which he held the package.
The Governor received it, and, removing the brown
wrapper, took from it an unsealed and rudely folded let-
ter, which he hastily perused, while the company kept per-
fect silence.
The Indians proved to be runners from the Apalachicolas,
a small tribe, who resided on the river of that name, dis-
tant about one hundred miles from Tallahassee, and the
paper which they bore was a communication from a sutler,
or storekeeper, a white man who resided among them. So
soon as the Governor had mastered the rather difficult
chirography, and acquainted himself with the contents of
the document, he communicated the same to the company,


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
221
»
the purport of which was that Colonel Blount, as he was
called, the chief of the tribe, had been robbed by thieves.
“Here's a job for you, sir," said his Excellency to me.
“This business must be attended to immediately. Colonel
Blount's house was broken open night before last, and rob-
bed of a considerable sum of money and other property.
The thieves are known to be lurking in the nation, and
steps must be taken for their arrest and punishment imme-
diately.”
I could not exactly see where my duty lay in the matter,
and what job for me could grow out of the circumstance.
As the company rose from the table, and adjourned to
the veranda to enjoy the evening breeze, the Governor
directed Old Ned, the butler, to conduct the Indians
to the kitchen and see that their wants were bountifully
provided for, as it was evident they were both tired and
hungry.
After some time spent in conversation, during which the
rights and the wrongs of the Indians were freely discussed,
and much sympathy expressed for the poor old chief, and
execrations of the robbers, especially by the ladies, the
guests took their leave, and, entering their carriages, de-
parted for the city.
The Governor, summoning me to his office, at once set
about arranging his plans. After some deliberation it was
determined that I should be dispatched to the Natioil,
armed with a proclamation from the Governor, offering a


222
MAJOR JONES.
reward for the apprehension of the robbers, a letter to the
marshal of the Ocheese District, in which the reserve of
the Apalachicolas was situated, instructing him to summon
the civil officers and a posse of citizens, if necessary, and
use all diligence for the capture of the burglars, and the
recovery of the stolen property. The papers were to be got
ready for me at once, and I was to take my departure early
in the morning. For the journey as far as Aspalaga, on
the Apalachicola river, I was to be furnished with a horse
and light Jersey wagon, in which to take with me the Indian
a
runners.
From Aspalaga I was to make my way to Ocheese and
Iola, the Indian town, by steamer, if I was lucky enough
to meet one of the river boats on her downward passage to
Apalachicola, or, if I missed the boat, by canoe.
The enterprise, or adventure, was exactly to my liking,
and I promptly accepted the commission, and at once set
about making the necessary preparations for the trip. The
balance of the evening was occupied by the Governor in
preparing his proclamation, letters, and the written instruc-
tions by which my proceedings were to be governed. I set
old Uncle Ned to rigging up the harness and putting the
wagon in order, while I busied myself in cleaning my dou-
ble-barrelled gun and pistols, preparing ammunition and
rations for myself and the two Indians. I retired early to
bed that I might make an early start in the morning, but
so thoroughly was my mind occupied with the adventure


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
223
before me, that it was far in the night before sleep visited
my eyes.
Early in the morning everything was in readiness for
my
departure. The horse selected for the service was a fine
animal, but unfortunately rather large, both for my harness
and the shafts of my wagon. My equipment consisted of
a valise containing my papers and a change or two of under-
clothing, a double-barrelled gun, a couple of blankets, and
a wooden chest, in which were contained provisions for my-
self and my hardy. companions, the Indians, and which, oc-
cupying a position in the rear of the spring-seat of the
vehicle, served as a seat for them. The Governor accom-
panied me to town, where I was to receive the proclamation,
which had been printed during the night, and receive my
final instructions. On our way to town, as we made the
gentle descent to the Cascade branch, I observed that the
horse held hard and seemed inclined to get away from the
wagon, but as we ascended the elevation on the other side,
all seemed to be right, and the matter passed from my
thoughts.
At the old Planters' Hotel I found several friends, who
were curious to know the purpose of my journey, and dur-
ing the few minutes I had to wait on the Governor's move-
ments, a considerable crowd gathered, attracted by my out-
fit and the Indians, who sat bolt upright, silent and motion-
less as statues, on the chest. My arrangements being com-
pleted, I bade good-bye to the crowd, and set out on my


224
MAJOR JONES.
а
journey. Taking the Quincy road, a hundred yards brought
me to the brow of the hill, down which the rough uneven
road, with deep ditches on either side, descended for a dis-
tance of some four hundred yards. As we commenced the
descent, I noticed the same disposition on the part of my
horse to keep away from the wagon, which he had before
manifested, and which I endeavored to restrain. But all
my efforts were in vain. His speed increased in spite of
the exertion of my utmost strength. Rising from my seat
I I threw my entire weight upon the lines, but without the
least effect. The horse was now in a full canter, the bright
shoes of his hind feet flashing above the swingle-tree at.
every leap, and the little Jersey almost rising from the
ground in its fearful velocity. Leaning back upon the
lines, and turning my head, even in the imminent peril of the
moment, I was almost forced to laugh at the ludicrous appear-
ance of
he Indians, who were evidently for the first time
enjoying a ride in a wagon. Their usually stolid counte-
nances beamed with delight. “ Chilocco incles chi !” ex-
claimed one to the other, who responded with a hearty ·
Eoca !” I could but think that if they knew the “chi-
locco” was running away, and the imminent danger which
threatened them, they would not be so contented with their
situation, nor so decided in their good opinion of the horse.
Faster and faster we sped. Bracing my feet against the
front of the wagon, I made one last desperate effort to check
the horse's headlong speed, when the left rein snapped and


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
225
looked up,
the next moment he leaped the ditch and the fore-wheels of
the wagon came in violent collision with the low bank on
the opposite side. I was sensible of a terrific shock; in an
instant all was chaos, confusion and darkness.
With returning consciousness, I found myself attempting
to rise from the ground. A sudden and deadly pain in my
breast stopped my breath, and I again sank down on the
ground in the most intense agony. The pain left me as
suddenly as it came, and as I drew a deep breath and
I beheld my two travelling companions stand-
ing over me, regarding me with countenances so ludicrously
anxious that I was forced to smile, to which they instantly
responded with demonstrations of joy. First, in their half-
Indian, half-English gibberish they congratuluated me on
my safety, and then began to relate their own experiences.
One had a severe cut in the temple, the other a large gash
in his leg, and both of them had received severe scratches
and bruises. They were evidently much surprised at the
catastrophe, and were as unsparing of their abuse of the
horse as they had been warm in his praise. "Chilocco ho-
lanagos chi!" grunted one; “Enea—dam loscohicpus chi!
too much !” grunted the other, as they examined their hurts.
Rising to my feet I surveyed the wreck, which strewed
the ground in every direction. In the road were the hind
wheels of the wagon, 'entirely detached from the body,
pieces of which were scattered around. A little distance
off were fragments of my camp-chest-here a ham, there a
а.
15


226
MAJOR JONES.
cold chicken or a loaf of bread-tin-plates, tin-cups, spoons,
knives and forks were scattered about promiscuously. My
fine double-barrelled gun lay in the ditch, broken off at
the stock, and near it a little whiskey bottle, almost the
only thing that had not shared the general smash. Some
thirty yards from the road, near a large log, were the fore-
wheels of the wagon, and a portion of the shafts, but no
horse was to be seen. A faintness came over me, and I sat
down upon a log to compose myself, while the Indians
groped about among the debris after the provisions. Their
eyes soon spied out the bottle of whiskey, which they
brought to me. I recommended them to bathe their
wounds with it. But after they had succeeded in drawing
the cork, they gave me to understand that they preferred
to take an internal application of it, and both helped
themselves to good long drinks from the bottle.
How long I had remained insensible on the ground, I
had no means of knowing. Some time must have elapsed
during my unconsciousness, for no horse was to be seen in
the open woods. The last I had seen of him was his flash-
ing heels as he leaped the ditch. Looking up the road
towards town, I saw several persons burrying in my direc-
tion. They proved to be friends, who seeing the horse
dashing through the streets with a portion of the harness
hanging to him, concluded that some accident had hap-
pened, and had bastened to my assistance. With them I
returned to town.


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
227
I discovered that I was pretty severely bruised, but I
concealed my injuries as much as possible from the Gov-
ernor, for fear he might determine to send some one to the
Nation in my stead. It was concluded, however, to defer
my journey until the next day, and to dispatch the Indians
back to the Nation with copies of the printed proclama-
tion and information that a messenger from the Governor
would be there as soon as possible.
The next day, after the departure of the Indians, it so
happened that Mr. Bacon, the sub-agent, came to town on
some matter of business. The Governor insisted that he
should accompany me to the Nation, as he was in duty
bound by virtue of his office, to use his best endeavors
to discover and arrest the man who had committed the
robbery.
Mr. Bacon was a largé, red-faced man, very fat, and
without doubt one of the laziest men that ever lived. He
was rheumatic and suffered from a chronic inflammation of
the eyes, which he aggravated by the habitual use of whis-
key. Mr. Bacon met the Governor's proposition with com-
plaints of his bodily infirmities, which unfitted him for the
exposure which he would necessarily have to endure on
such a mission, and pleaded earnestly to be excused. But
the Governor would take no refusal, and as it was by favor
of his Excellency that the sub-agent held his sinecure, he
was compelled to yield his objections.
Another small wagon, similar to the one in which I had
a


228
MAJOR JONES.
first set out, having been provided, Mr. Bacon and my-
self started the next morning on our journey, the old man
in anything but a pleasant humor. His horse, which, with
its owner, had been pressed into service, was a fine animal
and worked well, but in the very bad condition of the
road, owing to recent heavy rains, with such a dead weight
of Bacon and accompanying baggage, the stoutest horse in
Christendom would have stalled, and so did he at every
hill and every boggy place, when “I, being the youngest,"
he said, “ought to get out and walk.” Sometimes his
horse, Butler, as he called him, would come to a dead balt.
On such occasions I was more than compensated for the in-
convenience to myself, by the amusement afforded by the
unloading and reloading of Bacon which necessarily took
place, accompanied as that operation invariably was with
volleys of imprecations and groans, and ludicrous lamenta-
tions from my ponderous companion, who declared that he
expected nothing else than to be laid up with the rheu-
matism for a month, for getting his feet wet. In his par-
oxysms he abused the Governor for sending him on “sich
a cussed business," and uttered the bitterest maledictions on
the heads of the infernal red-skins, who were the innocent
cause of his trouble.
We got on, however, without any serious impediments,
until we arrived at Aspalaga, on the Apalachicola, which
we reached on the evening of the following day. Here we
were to leave our conveyance and proceed by water to Lola.


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
229
Much to our discouragement, we learned that the boat in
which we had anticipated going that distance, had rather
anticipated us, and had passed down the river but a few
minutes previous to our arrival. Our only alternative then
was to make the best of our way down the river in a canoe,
and, in the hope that we might overtake the boat, which
would probably be detained at Ocheese, an intermediate
town, distant about twenty miles from Aspalaga, until the
following morning, we resolved to set forth immediately.
Accordingly after supper, and after Mr. Bacon had re-
galed himself with a little gin and sugar, which he recom-
mended as an excellent antifogmatic, and in which indul-
gence he justified himself on the ground that there was a
heavy fog on the river, we procured a canoe and pushed
off. I shall never forget that night. It was just dark as
we launched our little tottering barque into the broad, deep
waters of the Apalachicola, which was then unusually high
and rapid. As Mr. Bacon wedged his ponderous weight
into one end of the canoe, my end rose out of the water like
the bowsprit of a seventy-four, and though I had seated
myself in the stern, I soon found my end of the canoe con-
verted into the bow.
Steady-steady, Mr. Secretary,” said Mr. Bacon. “I
don't half like this 'ere craft."
True," said I, “it is a rather gincumbob sort of a thing,
as Tom Tafrail would say, but I think with our ballast it
is quite safe.”
"
a


230
MAJOR JONES.
you chew
Humph-safe, eh ?—why, it would turn bottom-up
with an ager shake; you can't trim such a thing as this
'ere, unless
your
tobacco in the middle of your
mouth."
We had but one paddle, and Mr. Bacon objected even to
use that; first, because he was too lazy to use it himself; and
secondly, because he feared if I attempted to propel the boat
with it, I might by my efforts upset it. We therefore con-
,
tented ourselves by gliding along with the current, which,
to tell the truth, was not very slow travelling. We had
not, however, proceeded far, before it became so dark that
we could see neither shore, and scarcely could we distin-
guish each other as we sat in the opposite ends of the boat.
It was by no means pleasant. Dark and cheerless, with
nothing to break the silence of the night save now and then
the hoarse bellow of an alligator, the faint rippling of the
little whirlpools, or the more rapid dashing of the water as
it broke over some sawyer or snag in the middle of the
current. Mr. Bacon was as “dumb as the town-clock of
-
Killarney,” save when some uncommon rustling of the
water denoted that a breaker was in the vicinity, when he
would grunt forth with an effort: “Lookout ahead there,
Mr. Secretary, or the next thing we'll be split from stem
to stern by some of these 'ere d-d dancing sawyers.
I took a cigar from my pocket, and, by the assistance of
a locofoco, lighted it and commenced smoking.


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
231
"
“Have you any more of them 'ere cigars ?" asked my
companion.
“ I have," I replied, “ best Vanillas—will you smoke ?”
“ Yes, thank you, if for nothing but to keep the mus-
keeters off.”
“But you must meet me half way; if I go to your end of
'
the boat, we'll certainly founder.”
“I reckon not,” said he.
But I was determined to give him some trouble, and in-
sisted that it would not be safe to approach to his end of
He hesitated; I gave my cigar a puff, and the
spicy fumes of the fragrant Vanilla rolled aft and passed his
olfactories. He shrugged, gaped, then grunted, and finally
made a move towards me with both hands firmly grappled
to the sides of the canoe. We approached each other; the
boat rocked like a cradle. “Cautious, cautious," murmured
he. I passed the cigar to him; he groped for it, took it, and
I gave him a light. After assuring himself that his cigar was
fairly lit, he passed back my lighted cigar and commenced
his retreat. In turning to go to my end, I half accidentally
and half on purpose stumbled, so as to somewhat disturb
the equilibrium of our boat. Mr. Bacon became terrified,
tottered and fell over back, in his hurry to regain his seat,
when, unfortunately, his hat became dislodged from his
head, and of course tumbled into the river. Mr. Bacon's
affection for his hat was so strong that he was induced to
make one desperate effort to regain it, in which he nearly
the canoe.
>


232
MAJOR JONES.
а
upset the canoe. Fortunately, however, we only dipped a
few quarts of water, and Mr. Bacon sat down in his place,
cursing the cigars and lamenting the loss of his beaver.
What was a little remarkable, however, he had, amidst all
his terror, retained his cigar, which, in a few minutes after
he regained his seat, lighted up his countenance at intervals,
as he puffed, grunted, and cursed by turns. He soon be-
came pacified, however, and tying up his head with his
pocket-handkerchief, resumed his former gravity and non-
communicativeness. Though I could not help but laugh
whenever I saw his sullen visage and turbaned head by the
light of his cigar, it was quite plain that the agent did not
enjoy the joke.
We glided on. After Mr. Bacon's cigar gave out, I en-
deavored to induce him to accept another. But no, he
was as fixed as the rudder-post of a schooner. He would
not run such another risk for all the cigars in Florida. It
was past midnight, and we had not yet reached Ocheese.
“Keep her to the right bank, now," said Mr. Bacon,
“we might pass the town in the dark.”
Accordingly I veered the course of the canoe until we
could hear the water rippling among the driftwood on the
right bank of the river. I became most intolerably sleepy,
as well as Mr. Bacon, who now began to yawn and gape
more and more. I endeavored to enter into conversation,
but then I had all the talking to do myself. On no subject
would be converse, and the only topic that could elicit an


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
233
observation from him was the hapless circumstance of losing
his hat, which he said was entirely my fault.
We floated onward without anything remarkable occur-
ring until about two o'clock in the morning, when we ar-
rived at Ocheese, which place we would most probably
have passed in the dark but for the barking of the dogs.
As the bow of our canoe touched the shore, Mr. Bacon gave
a long, deep-drawn groan, which probably he had been
saving up for the last mile. We got on shore, dragged the
bow of our canoe on to the beach, and after a little search,
succeeded in finding lodgings. Much to our gratification
we learned that the steamboat would not leave until the
following day.
а
CHAPTER II.
On the following morning we took our passage in the
steamboat for Iola, in company with an officer of the
Ocheese district. We arrived at the Indian town, which
is beautifully situated on the bank of the river, early in the
day, from whence we went in company with the sutler and
interpreter to the house of the old chief, who resided about
a mile from the shore. The old man was heartily glad to
see us, and, although much indisposed from fever, com-
menced, as soon as we had seated ourselves on the slabs be-
fore his door, to narrate the circumstances of the robbery.


234
MAJOR JONES.
A few days previous to the night on which the robbery
was committed, Colonel John Blount had received a large
sum of money from the government, in compliance with the
terms of the treaty which had been made with his tribe for
their removal to Texas. Of this fact his white neighbors
had gained intelligence by some means, and they deter-
mined to possess themselves of the treasure at all hazards.
Luckily for the life of the old chief, business had called him
from home that night, for it was evidently the intention of
the robbers to murder him. They broke down the door of
his lodge with an axe, entered the house, and rushing to the
bed, cut and stabbed it in every direction, until satisfied of
the absence of their intended victim; then seizing the two
trunks' which they were aware contained the treasure, as
well as everything else of value which the old chief pos-
sessed, they departed. There were three robbers concerned
in the transaction,-Oaks, Rawls, and Strafford; the latter
of whom was a thief of some considerable notoriety on the
frontiers of Georgia, previous to his removal to Florida,
where he was not less renowned for his many acts of daring
villany.
The wife of Colonel Blount, who happened to be the only
person in the house, except two children, who slept under
the bed, saved her life by springing from the bed before the
robbers entered, and secreting herself between it and the
wall, where she remained until they departed. She knew
the individuals well, and could not be mistaken as to their


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
235
»
identity, for it was not their first intrusion. After learning
the details of the affair from the old chief himself, we ex-
amined the door and bed. The door had been split from
its hinges, and the mosquito-bar bore evident marks of
violence.
“This is too bad !” remarked the officer to the sutler, a
rather hard-favored man, who resided in the Nation, and
who had married an Indian wife. “This is too bad! The
perpetrators of this outrage should be brought to justice.
But I fear our chance is but a poor one, for if we catch
them, which is very doubtful, unless we find the property
in their possession, there is no evidence to convict them."
“They ought to be hung on suspicion, then,” said he,
“ for a set of more audacious rascals never went at large."
“You know them, then,” said I?
"To be sure I do," replied the sutler; “ didn't I save
one of the d-d rascal's lives night before last!”
“Night before last ?” inquired the officer; "then you
have seen them since they committed the robbery?”
“Ob, yes, and it is only since they got wind of your
coming that the other two devils have disappeared from
the settlement."
“What!" I replied, “have they the effrontery to show
themselves in the Nation even after the perpetration of
such an outrage ?”
“ Yes; Strafford was at my store the morning after the
robbery was committed, and swore that he would take the


236
MAJOR JONES.
life of the first Indian or any one else who dared to assert
that he had a hand in it. But, I reckon he'll not bully
about this tan-yard in a while again.”
“Then, you think he has filed for good, do you ?” said
Mr. Bacon, and his countenance brightened up with hope.
“I think he's bled for good. If he ain't out of trouble
by this time, then I'm no surgeon.'
“What do you mean, Mr. Sutler?” I inquired; “I don't
comprehend you.”
“Well, I see you haven't heard all the particulars of the
business, so I'll tell you all about it. You must know the
.
next morning after the robbery, Strafford came down to the
store and bullied about there all day. A great many In-
dians were there also, and every one of them was satisfied
that Strafford had been concerned in the robbery of Colonel
Blount, but none dared to say so in his hearing. Strafford
knew they suspected him, and was mighty quarrelsome all
day. Towards night he got into a quarrel with an Indian
nigger, and struck him. The nigger ran, and Strafford
after him, until the nigger drew his knife and cut Strafford
twice in his left arm; then Strafford ran, and the bigger
gave chase and cut him again in the back, rather severe for
his comfort. Strafford ran into my store, and was so badly.
hurt that he begged me to give him a bed, and send for
his wife. Well, I couldn't turn the fellow out of doors,
though he had threatened to cut my throat not an hour be-
fore, so I let him lay down in the back room, and sent for


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
237
his wife, as he requested. It was now pretty near dark.
“For God's sake,” said Strafford, “tie up these 'ere cuts, or
I shall bleed to death.” I wouldn't be very sorry for that,
thought I; but still I couldn't help feeling a little sorry for
him, seeing he was so tamed, so I got some bandages and
commenced binding up his wounds while the Indians were
yelling and talking very loud outside the house. While I
was stooping over him, bang comes a pistol-shot through
the chinks of the wall. “My God!” groaned Strafford,
“they've shot me. Where's my wife ?” He wasn't mis-
taken about it. The ball struck him in the left shoulder,
but unfortunately took but little effect. Although I had
hoped my trouble was at an end, I had to bind up his new
wound, and while I was doing it he fell to begging me to
keep the Indians off, for he was hurt to death. I went to
the door, as he requested, but I hadn't left him a second,
before crack comes a rifle-shot through the window. I
heard Strafford groan. “Oh, they've killed me,” said he,
and I was really in hopes that he had told the truth for
once in his life. I told the Indians to go away, that they
had killed him, and they went away satisfied. I then re-
turned to Strafford and found the devil still alive, though
the last shot had been well aimed, and had struck him in
the breast. Shortly after his wife came in, and commenced
dressing his last wound. She staid all night with him, and
I sat up all night to keep her from stealing. In the morn-
ing his brother came down with some more of the gang,


238
MAJOR JONES.
>
and carried him home, where he is at this time, if he is not
dead, which is more than probable."
“Poor devil,” said Mr. Jones, the officer, “pity, but he
has come to the end of his rope."
“Yes,” grunted Mr. Bacon, “it will save a deal of trou-
ble and expense if he is dead.”
I listened to the statement of the sutler with no common
feelings. Although I knew Strafford to be a consummate vil-
lain, I could not but feel sorry for him, just because no one
else pitied him. That he had committed the robbery I had
not a doubt, but then to be hunted and shot like a dog, and
to have even his surgeon hope for his death, I could not but
pity his situation.
" What are the latest accounts from the other thieves ?”
I inquired.
« On the return of the runners from Tallahassee, they
took the hint, and are among the missing,” said the sutler.
“It is rumored that Rawls has gone down the river on one
of the steamboats, and that Oaks is still skulking about the
Nation. Immediately after the robbery intelligence was
sent to the marshal of the district below, and he is expected
up in to-day's boat. If he comes we shall probably hear
from Rawls."
As the boat was hourly expected, it was proposed to go
down to the store and await its arrival. We had not waited
long before the boat arrived, and with it the marshal. As
we anticipated, Rawls had been arrested and sent to Apa-
lachicola.


THE BURGLARS OP IOLA.
239
The marsbal, whom I shall call Mr. Jordan, was a mar-
shal to all intents and purposes, and was just the man we
stood in need of. He was a short, thick, stout, hard-visaged,
thorough-going sort of man, and one who feared nothing
buman. He was a terror to all land pirates, few of whom
ever escaped him, if once he got upon their track. Mr.
Bacon was delighted at his arrival, and hailed him with a
cordial shake of the hand.
“Ah,” said he, “ I'm right glad you've come, Mr. Jordan,
we'll bave little more to do now."
“Oh, bo!” said Mr. Jordan, “you're here, are yon, old
stick-in-the-mud! Why, I didn't expect to see you here in
a fortnight, at least.”
“Oh, you know it was my duty to come and do all I
could to catch these 'ere robbers."
“Exactly; well, what have you done?”
;
Why we haven't done much yet; we only got here this
66
morning.”
a
“Well, Mr. Sutler, what's the latest news respecting
those housebreakers ?”
So soon as the marshal learned Strafford's condition, he
said he would pay him a professional visit immediately.
“S’pose we wait till morning, Mr. Jordan," said Mr.
Bacon. “It's some ways to Strafford's house."
This delay would not suit the marshal. He was deter-
mined to see Strafford immediately. The sutler furnished
.
three ponies, and in company with the marshal and my-


240
MAJOR JONES.
a
self, rode out to see Strafford. We found him at the house
of his brother-in-law. He lay upon a miserable bed, and
as much resembled a dead as a living man. Mr. Jordan
went up to the bed and, touching him upon the shoulder,
informed him that he was his prisoner. Strafford was too
far gone to notice us. A faint groan was his only reply.
“I think you might let him die in peace,” said a miser-
able, half-clad, squalid-looking creature, who claimed to be
his “sister dear,” and who now approached the bed, and
attempted to cry.
“Don't be alarmed, good woman, I'll not hurt him,"
said Mr. Jordan.
“Oh, I know you,” she replied; "you've come here to
carry my poor brother to jail, 'cause some of them infernal
red-skins has been telling a pack o' lies on him, so they
but he's as innocent as I is, so he is. But he'll soon
be out of their reach, so he will."
" Don't get into a passion, gentle creature ; it don't be
come you,” said Mr. Jordan, with a look that spoke how
little he regarded her eloquence.
“That's jist like you,” sobbed the woman; "a body
"
couldn't expect no better from the likes o' you. You ought to
be ashamed of yourself, so you ought, to be mislisten a poor
man on his dying bed."
After examining Strafford minutely, Mr. Jordan con-
sented to allow him to remain where he was, on the assur-
ance of his brother-in-law and sister, that they would sur-
has;
a
"


TRE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
241
render him up so soon as he was able to leave his bed, and
we departed.
“Do you think he'll live, Mr. Jordan ?” inquired I,
soon after we left the house.
“ Live ! to be sure he will; nothing but a hemp cravat
will ever kill that devil. Shooting is nothing for him; he's
had as many ball-holes in his skin as he's got fingers and
toes.”
“Those wounds are severe,” said the sutler, “but he's
an alligator, every inch of him.”
“He looked like a corpse,” said I, “and I noticed that,
when he breathed, bloody froth came from that wound
in his breast.”
“I saw that too,” said Mr. Jordan, “but notwithstanding,
I wouldn't be much surprised if he made his escape before
this time to-morrow."
“We'd better set old Bacon to watch him,” remarked
the sutler.
“Set him to watch !-set a toad to watch a hoe-cake,"
said Mr. Jordan.
We arrived at the store about sundown, where the sut-
ler's Indian wife served us up a pretty good supper, after
which we listened to a rehearsal of the robbery, and the
transactions subsequent to it. Mr. Bacon had found lodg-
ings with the interpreter, and Mr. Jones at the house of
the old chief, and lucky was it for him that he had, for
16


242
MAJOR JONES.
he would have had business on his hands had he remained
at the store.
CHAPTER III.
WE were seated on the porch before the door of the store
smoking our cigars, when an Indian negro came to inform
us that Oaks, with his mother and Strafford's sister, were
quartered for the night at Strafford's bouse, distant from the
store about three miles.
“Are you certain it was Oaks you saw ?” inquired Mr.
Jordan of the negro.
“Yes, massa ; me see 'm mysef.”
“Let me have a horse, Mr. Sutler,” said Mr. Jordan; “if
he is not caught to-night, he'll not be found to-morrow.”
The sutler did not like to leave his store at night, and
recommended that the marshal should call on those at
Colonel Blount's to accompany him. But Mr. Jordan was
not inclined to ride three or four miles out of his way to get
assistance to take one man.
“Never mind,” said he, “if this boy will go along for
company's sake, I'd rather old Bacon should not be dis-
turbed in his sleep, for all the service he'd be.”
Boy,” thought I; “but I'll go to convince him that


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
243
I'm not the boy he takes me for. Let me bave a pony,
too, Mr. Sutler,” said I, “and I'll go with Mr. Jordan,
with pleasure.”
“That's right,” said Jordan. “But you must tote a pair
of pistols, youngster, and if you have occasion to shoot,
don't shut both eyes."
I felt rather squeamish at this, for I was aware that we
were to deal with a gang of desperate outlaws; but I con-
a
trived not to betray my fears, and since I had volunteered
to go, determined to go resolutely.
A few moments were spent in preparation, and Mr. Jor-
dan and myself took our departure fully armed and equipped.
There was no moon, and by the time we reached Straf-
ford's house it was quite dark, so that our approach could
not have been discovered until we were within hearing dis-
The house stood in a small inclosure and was built
of hewed logs. We dismounted, tied our horses to the
fence, and then approached the house. All was still-no
light was to be seen, nor a sound to be heard. Mr. Jordan,
after cautioning me not to speak, approached the door and
knocked. Thump, thump, thump, went his fist against the
door, but no one answered.
“Holloa the house !-holloa !" called out Mr. Jordan at
the top of his voice.
Still no reply.
“Holloa, I say, open the door," said Mr. Jordan; then
listening a few seconds with his ear close to the door, he
"


244
MAJOR JONES.
a
turned to me and said he thought he heard footsteps on the
floor.
“Go round to the other. side of the house," whispered
Mr. Jordan, “and see if there is a door on that side. Step
lightly, and return and let me know.”
After ascertaining that there were two doors to the house,
I returned for further orders.
“Go back," said he, "and take your station near the
door, and do as I direct you, but do not speak until I ad-
dress myself to you."
“Do you think he's in there ?" I asked. .
“I'm certain some one's there, and I'm inclined to think
Oaks is there, or they would open the door. There may
be half a dozen, and I do not wish to let them know our
force until I ascertain something farther about them.”
Accordingly I took my station at the door.
“Come, come, now, open the door and give me a bed by
the fire,” resumed Mr. Jordan. “I'll pay well for my
night's lodging."
“Who are you?” squalled a female voice, which, from
its cracked tone, we took to be that of old Hecate herself.
“I'm a lone chap who has got lost in the woods.”
Well, you must keep on,” replied the voice," there's
no one here but me and my daughter, and I'll warrant you
I'm not gwain to let a strange man in the house."
Mr. Jordan pleaded strongly for admission, but without
effect.
a
>
a


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
245
>
a
a
“Well,” said he, “if you won't let me in, you certainly
can't object to my sleeping on your porch.”
“Yes, but I will, though,” replied the voice. “You'd
better be off, now, I tell you,
'cause if
my
husband comes
home and finds you here, it's a chance if you ever go away
alive."
" I'll risk that,” said the marshal; “I'll warrant your
husband's a cleverer fellow than you are. So, since you
won't act like a Christian and open the door, I'll knock no
more, but make the best I can of the soft side of a puncheon
till morning.”
The old woman raved at a tremendous rate; she swore
if he did not go away, she would shoot, scald, burn, and
play the mischief with him. The marshal endeavored to
pacify her, then aggravated her, then laughed at her, and
finally quarrelled with her because she would not let him
sleep. The old woman became more and more uneasy; it
was plain that she suspected us, and unfortunately for our
scheme, I was, at just about this stage of the game, seized
with an irresistible desire to sneeze, which in spite of all I
could do betrayed my presence to the inmates of the house.
The sneeze did not escape the notice of the old woman,
and, though the marshal swore it was nothing but a cat,
which like him, being shut out of doors, had taken cold,
she was not to be deceived.
“I know you, you sneakin', skulkin' scoundrels. There's
a gang of you now prowlin' about a lone woman's house.
>


246
MAJOR JONES.
But I've found you out. You've come here after my son,
but thank God, he's out of your reach, so he is. You'd
better go home.” ”
“Well, old woman, you're about half-right,” said Mr.
Jordan, “so just unbar your door and let us be satisfied that
he's not with you, and we'll go home.”
,
“Now, I'll stick you up with opening the door, won't I!
Go home, I tell you! If you was any kin to decent white
folks you'd be ashamed to disturb anybody so. But you
may stand there and bawl till you're tired. I'll not let you
under my roof, that's what I won't."
The old woman now pretended to go to sleep. Mr. Jor-
dan couldn't get a word from her. The novelty of the
adventure kept me wide awake, but the marshal, who was
something of a vocalist, either for his own amusement, or
for the annoyance of the old woman, indulged in singing
songs :
>
“There's meetin's of pleasure, and partin's of grief,
But an inconstant lovyer is worse nor a thief:
A thief he will rob you, and steal all you have,
But an inconstant lovyer 'll take you to the grave.”
“I know what you're hintin' up, you old screech-owl,
you; but I reckon if the truth was known, you're as big a
thief as anybody," interrupted the old woman.
Mr. Jordau resumed :
“O, let me in this aye night,
O, let me in this aye night," etc.


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
247
The old woman acted 'possum for some time, but finally
her temper got the better of her, and she broke forth :
“You mean, stinkin', white Ingin devils, you, go home!"
“We won't go home till morning,
We won't go home till morning,
We won't go home, till morning,
Till daylight doth appear."
This was not to be borne; the old woman broke forth in
a torrent of abuse, by far excelling anything I ever heard
before or since, to which Mr. Jordan replied by singing:
“Pray, Goody, please to moderate the rancor of your tongue,
Why flash those sparks of fury from your eyes ?
Remember when the judgment's weak, the prejudice is strong,
A stranger why will you despise ?
Ply me, try me,
Prove ere you deny me," etc., etc.
Finally, finding that the marshal paid no regard to her,
the old woman became silent, and Mr. Jordan continued
his medley until his attention was arrested by the noise of
footsteps within the house. He listened for a few moments
and all was still, but when he resumed his song the noise
was heard again. He hummed a tune for awhile in an
undertone, and after a short pause, called out to me:
“Look out there, gentlemen, on the other side. He's
trying to crawl out at the chimney-top. The moment you
see his head against the sky, pull trigger on it!”
a


248
MAJOR JONES.
>
a
66
The next moment I could distinctly hear some one clam-
bering down the chimney.
“ That's right,” said Mr. Jordan, “you'd stand a bad
chance coming out at the chimney-top. A whiter man
A
than
you would show against the sky.”
“I reckon a body can make up a fire in their own house,"
said the old woman,“ without being shot for it."
“Go to bed, old Meg,” said the marshal," it's not time
to make a fire yet these two hours.”
“I'll not ax you, you drotted thief !” replied the old
dame. “You won't let a body sleep, so I'm gwain to sit
up till morning.”
I was now satisfied that the object of our pursuit was
within, and of course “opened my eyes tight,” and listened
attentively to every noise within the house. The old woman
continued thumping about the house, apparently endeav-
oring to make all the noise she could, as if she wished to
engross our entire attention. But Mr. Jordan was too wide
awake for her. He heard in spite of all her clatter a slab
of the floor raised.
“ Look out there, gentlemen, they're letting him out un-
der the floor. Keep a sharp lookout, and shoot him if he
attempts to escape.”
“Never fear us," I replied. “We heard the plank move,
and are on the lookout for him.'
“ Stand a one side," said Mr. Jordan, after a short pause,


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
249
a
I think I see his stilts sticking through the floor, and I'd
like to sprinkle them with a few buck-shot.”
“My God !” squalled old Meg, “don't shoot under
there, you'll kill all my geese !"
And the next moment a noise like that of a man spring-
ing on the floor was distinctly heard.
“Well, don't let your geese stick their legs through the
floor," said Mr. Jordan, "for of a dark night like this, it is
not easy to tell a goose from any other two-legged animal.”
Daylight was now fast approaching, and it was evident
to all concerned, that the game was about to be blocked.
The old woman raved for a while, but finding that all she
could say could not dislodge the marshal from his post,
she became quiet, and we could hear nothing but a low
whispering and a slight rustling within the house. It was
evident that some new scheme was about to be adopted,
but what it was was not easy to divine. The east was al-
ready gray, and I felt that the important crisis was about
approaching. My contemplations were of a serious character.
It might be that there were more than one in the house,
and when daylight should discover to them our meagre
force, might they not overpower the marshal; and then the
old woman might eat me alive, or her son might shoot
me with my own pistols. I awaited the next move of the
marshal with some little agitation, and was not sorry that
the house was between, so that he could not detect me.
а


250
MAJOR JONES.
But a few minutes more elapsed and it was quite light.
The old woman now commenced to unbar the door.
“I reckon,” said she, "you'll not shoot me if I go to get
some wood for my fire.”
“You can't go yet," said Mr. Jordan in a very stern
tone. “You'll catch your death if you go out in the dew
so early.”
“And what's that to you, you oudacious varmit!" said
old Meg, as she was about to step out on the porch, at the
same time pulling the door shut after her.
“Go in, you old hellian !" said the marshal in an angry
tone.
“Did you ever see such insurance !" squalled old Meg.
She paused for a moment, then muttering curses between
her toothless gums, she sprang for an axe which lay upon
the porch. The marshal set one foot upon the handle of the
axe, then drawing a pistol from bis belt pointed it with a
grim look at her head,
“Do you see that, you old hag? Go in and be quiet
until I permit you to go after wood, or I'll spatter your
brains against the door-sill.”
There was something in the manner of the marshal that
awed even old Meg, and she went into the house muttering.
Next came the girl, who likewise wanted to go after wood.
A look from the marshal, however, was a poser for her, and
she shrank from the door.
It was by this time quite daylight. Mr. Jordan beckoned
>





(252)
“Good morning, to your night-cap."


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
253
a
me to come round, and we opened the door and walked
in, pistols in hand, when, not at all to our surprise, we
found the gentleman over whom we had kept such faithful
watch the whole night seated on the side of a miserable-
looking bed, dressed in woman's clothes.
“Good morning to your nightcap," said Mr. Jordan,
approaching him and laying his hand upon his shoulder.
“As I have a little business with you, I'll trouble you to
accompany me to the store this morning.” Then turning
to old Meg, who was calling us all the hard names in her vo-
cabulary, and out of whose reach I took good care to keep,
“Ah ha! old Meg, I've caught your goose at last; you
couldn't get him out of the chimney-top, through the floor,
nor in petticoats. Well, I've always heard you were a
tartar to come up to; but, Meg, to say the truth, I don't
think you're the woman you're cracked up to be."
I need not say that old Meg retorted in a style becoming
a woman of her character. She cursed the marshal for
everything she could think of. Then turning to me she
said I was a pretty little bantam, to be strutting about with
pistols in my belt, and swore she could run a regiment of
such things with her broomstick. The marshal laughed
at her, and for my part, so she kept her hands off, I little
regarded her raillery.
The old woman wanted to put her son down the plank
in the floor and to change his clothes, but the marshal would
not wait; so tying his prisoner's hands behind his back,


254
MAJOR JONES.
we mounted our horses and set off for the store with
Mr. Oaks between us in his mother's best frock and cap.
On our arrival at the store, the Indians pressed around to
see the este hoketucky, and many were the jokes in which
they indulged at the expense of our prisoner.
CHAPTER IV.
SHORTLY after our arrival at the store, we were joined
by Mr. Bacon, and those who had found quarters for the
night at the house of the old chief. As the morning ad-
vanced, several of the settlers in the vicinity of the In-
dian town, who had been attracted by the Governor's pro-
clamation, also came to our assistance. Mr. Bacon was
delighted with our success, and expressed his regret that we
did not afford him an opportunity of participating in the
adventure. . Our prisoner was exceedingly chopfallen, and
assuming an air of frankness, quite at variance with his
calling, confessed his guilt. He persisted in representing
himself as an injured innocent, or as he expressed it, a
"deluded young man," who had been inveigled from the
path of rectitude by the infamous Strafford, who he aver-
red had not only almost forced him to become his accom-
plice, but what was still more infamous in his eyes, had


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA..
255
a
cheated him in the division of the plunder. He gave us
all the particulars of the robbery, and offered to surrender
his share of the money and goods if we would send an
escort with him to his home, which was distant from the
store some six or eight miles. It was finally arranged that
Mr. Bacon, with four of the young men who had volunteered
their services, should go with Oaks to his house and obtain
the property, while a second party were to visit Strafford to
inquire after his health, leaving the marshal and me to
snatch a little sleep on the sutler's cot. Horses were soon
in readiness, and Mr. Bacon, with his prisoner well pinione
set off at the head of his escort, certainly manifesting more
life and animation than he had since he left Tallahassee.
Old Meg, who had in the meantime made her appearance
at the store, mounted on her pony, now joined the caval-
cade, much to the annoyance of Mr. Bacon, who seemed
very desirous of avoiding any collision with a woman of
her well-known prowess. The marshal laughed as he saw
the fat old gentleman cut his suspicious eye at the withered
old hag.
“See how Mr. Bacon rides round old Meg,” said he, as
they moved off. “I wouldn't be surprised if the old woman
outgeneralled him yet.”
We had perhaps slept a couple of hours, and I was
dreaming of a grand combat with old Meg in a black cave,
in a gloomy forest! I had fired two pistols at her, still
she did not fall! I attempted to escape, but the door was
>
a


256
MAJOR JONES.
.
barred. With one skinny hand she grasped me by the hair,
with the other she brandished a ponderous knife all covered
with blood! Her red eyes gleamed upon me, and her
cracked voice screeched in my ear, “I've got ye now!"
In another moment she would sever my head from my
shoulders! I tried to call for help, but my breath was
gone-I could not speak! What would have been the
result of the horrible encounter I have yet to dream, for
just at this painful crisis Mr. Jordan came to my assistance,
and slapping me beartily upon the shoulder, exclaimed,
“Get up, my little bully! here's more work for us.”
On recovering my bewildered senses I learned that the
party who had been sent to ascertain if Strafford was yet
alive, had returned and reported “non est inventus," as the
sheriff would say. On arriving at the house where we had
left him the evening previous, they found the place entirely
abandoned. Not a soul remained, and they were obliged
to return without being able to give us the slightest intelli-
gence respecting the object of their search. From a man
who had come to the store that morning on business, we
learned that he had met Strafford on his way, mounted on a
horse, and armed with a gun and pistols, and that he told
our informant in reply to his inquiries, that there was a
party after him, to take him for a robbery which he never
committed, and that he was determined not to be taken
alive.
2


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
257
.
“He said he wouldn't be taken alive, eh ?” inquired the
marshal.
“Yes," replied the stranger, “he said he had been cut
and shot all to pieces by the Indians, and that he'd be
dd if he didn't shoot the first man that attempted to
put hands on him.”
“Well, we'll give the fellow a chance to try his pluck.
It's immaterial to me whether I take him to Tallahassee
as a live pork or a dead hog."
Mr. Jordan then questioned the stranger, with a view of
ascertaining where it was most likely Strafford had gone.
No intelligence, however, of a satisfactory nature could be
drawn from him, and as no time was to be lost, the marshal,
after formally summoning the new-comer to make one of
the party, prepared to start in search of his absconded
prisoner.
With a view of instituting a thorough search for Strafford,
the marshal divided his force, which now consisted of some
ten or twelve men, each armed with a gun and well mounted,
into two parties; one of which, under the direction of the
interpreter, proceeded to search the woods and swamps
below the town, where it was known that Strafford had some
friends among the settlers, while the other, under the guid-
ance of the marshal, set off in the direction of the place
where he had been seen that morning by our informant.
My eagerness for adventure would not permit me to remain
behind, although the fatigues and exposure of the past night
a
17


258
MAJOR JONES.
had rendered me much better qualified for the bed than the
saddle. On our way to the lagoon, near which there were
some old deserted cabins, in which it was supposed Strafford
would take refuge, we had to pass near to Colonel Blounts
house. On arriving opposite the old chief's wigwam, the
marshal desired the party to halt until he should procure
three or four Indians to accompany us, to serve in trailing
out the object of our search. I rode with Mr. Jordan to
the shanties, which stood but a few hundred yards from the
road, where we soon obtained three Indians, and returned.
On reaching our party we missed the stranger, who we were
informed had desired to ride on in advance until he reached
his home for the purpose of bathing his eyes, which he said
were sore, promising to be ready to accompany us to the
lagoon place, on our overtaking him. The marshal shook
his head.
“My suspicions are confirmed,” said he, "and our chance
of taking Strafford is now but a sorry one."
“Why so ?” inquired one of the party.
“Why, the fellow whom you have let escape you, I am
quite sure, is no better than Strafford. He will gain suffi-
cient time by his rise to inform Strafford of our approach,
who, if he once escapes into the lagoon, will be out of our
reach, and we might as well waste our time looking for a
needle in a haystack.”
“ I think he's hardly as mean as that,” said one.
“I had my suspicions before,” replied the marshal,
>


TAR BURGLARS OF IOLA.
259
>
"and now I am quite sure his business to the store this
morning was only that of a spy. But there is no time to
be lost; put whip to your horses and follow me, and he
shall have but little time to put his designs into execution,
if he is as treacherous as I suspect him to be."
So saying, the marshal dashed off at full gallop, and we
all followed, leaving the Indians, who were on foot, to ply
their shanks' horses as best they might.
Half an hour's ride brought us to the man's house, where
we found him all alone, sitting in his porch. He stated that
he felt too unwell to accompany us, but directed us to the
old houses, which were only about a mile distant. Mr.
Jordan spent no time in words, though his eye flashed as
he regarded the individual, of whom his worst suspicions
were now confirmed.
“All haste, men!" said he, and off we started in the di-
rection of the lagoon, with the Indians, who had overtaken
us, close at our heels. The dilapidated old buildings were
soon in sight. A halt was ordered, and the men disposed
in such manner as to cut off all retreat from the buildings.
At an appointed signal we all approached, riding up from
every direction to the spot, when we dismounted, fastened
our horses and entered the ruins. But the bird had flown.
Abundant signs of recent occupancy were discernible, the
character of which left no doubt on our minds that Strafford
had been there. In one building was a bed of moss, and
strewed around upon the floor were several bloody bandages.


260
MAJOR JONES.
In another was a bag of corn, and the recent tracks of a
horse, which might be traced to some distance in the direc-
tion of the lagoon. The Indians were present, and evinced
much of their native cunning and skill, in tracing out facts
from signs and appearances, developing in one instance a
method of chronological calculation, quite novel in its char-
acter, and certainly peculiar to themselves. Upon the floor
were several marks of tobacco-spittle; these attracted the
attention of the Indians, and after examining them minute
ly, and observing the rays or sharp projections of ambia
which usually shoot forth from the main body as it falls
upon an even surface, and carefully noting the degree in
which they were absorbed by the wood, they were enabled
to compute the time to a fraction since the last spittle had
fallen upon the floor. They asserted with great confidence
that Strafford had not been gone more than fifteen minutes
before our arrival. The Indians found no difficulty in
tracing the tracks of the horse in one direction, and those
of men in another, until the latter reached the lagoon.
Further it was impossible to follow, without the aid of a
canoe, as the water, which inundated a cypress swamp of
several miles in extent, was in places very deep. A canoe
had doubtless been brought up from the river by some of
Strafford's
in which he had effected his escape.
With a rueful countenance the marshal abandoned the
pursuit, and we directed our course towards the Indian
town. As we passed the house of the man who doubtless
gang,


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
261
:
a
had thwarted our efforts to recover our prisoner, we found
it vacant; the guilty scamp had secreted himself, doubtless
fearing to meet the indignant marshal. And it was well
for him that he was not found, for Mr. Jordan held that
lynch law was an excellent remedy “in certain cases made
and provided,” and was as ready to execute a writ from
that as a higher court.
It was late in the evening before we reached the store.
Mr. Bacon came running out to meet us as we dismounted.
“Whar's Strafford ?" he eagerly inquired.
“Gone to " replied Mr. Jordan, in a crabbed voice.
“Did you get the money ?”
“Em-eh-no," stammered Mr. Bacon.
“The devil you didn't! Where's Oaks ?”
“ Why he's gone too."
“Gone !-gone where? You certainly didn't let him get
away when you had his arms tied behind his back, did you ?”
“Why, that old woman—"
“I thought so," interrupted Mr. Jordan,“the old woman
was too much for you. Just what I expected.”
“But, Mr. Jordan, don't you know"
“ Yes, I do know you're not the man to be trusted with
a prisoner and a woman like"
“That 'ere old she-devil. You don't think, Mr. Jordan,
that I could be”
“Bamboozled out of your prisoner," interrupted Mr.
Jordan in return.


262
MAJOR JONES.
Mr. Bacon assumed a very indignant attitude, and run-
ning both hands into his pockets, fastened his oyster eye
upon the marshal.
“Now, Mr. Jordan, you don't mean to insinewate any-
thing injurious to my character, because”
“Well, how was it, then, Mr. Bacon,-how did it hap-
pen ?”
“Why, I'll tell you. Arter we started from here this
morning, we all rode along quiet enough until we got’most
there. Oaks said his arm hurt him, and wanted us to let
him loose. Well, he talked so good I thought we mought
.
as well do so, and we untied his hands. When we got
near the house, the old woman rode on ahead a little, and
got in the house before we got there. Oaks was before the
rest, and was walking up to the house just as I was getting
off my horse. The boys were tying their horses, when
what should we see, but the old woman jump out of the door
with a double-barrelled gun and give it to her son, who
,
broke like a quarter-horse for the swamp, which was close
by. As soon as she gave Oaks the gun she run back into
the house and hollered out, 'Fire on the d-d rascals !' and
I'll swar I saw three guns sticking through the chinks.”
“ Bah !” exclaimed the marshal.
“The boys,"continued Mr. Bacon, not minding the in-
terruption, "all took after Oaks, as I thought, and just as I
was puttin' my leg over my horse to follow, out comes the
old woman with a big stick, and tuck me a pelt aside of


THE BURGLARS OF IOLA.
263
my head that knocked me clean over t'other side, and be
fore I could get out of the tanglements, she give me two or
three licks that liked to knock the breath out of me, and
then run off.”
“ You let her whip you, then, and you had a gun!”
exclaimed the marshal, unable any longer to repress his
laughter.
“I had sot my gun down by a tree, and while I was catch-
ing my horse, the old critter must have stole it.”
“And you lost your gun in the bargain !”
“Why, arter I got out of the old vixen's clutches, I looked
about and the boys were all gone, so I didn't go back.”
Only one of the party who had accompanied Mr. Bacon
was present, who' excused his own conduct on the ground
that the balance of the party all ran for life as soon as they
saw the old woman with the gun. He stated that he en-
deavored to rally them, but when they heard old Bacon
shouting murder, they hurried off, leaving him for dead.
The marshal was exceedingly vexed at the fortunes of the
day, but when he heard the poor old man's tale, and beheld
his scratched countenance and torn coat, which was split
up to the collar, he could not but laugh at all that had
passed.
Another day was passed in useless search for Strafford
and Oaks, and on the following morning I took my depar-
ture in the steamboat for Aspalaga. On my arrival home
I gave his Excellency a detailed account of all that had
I


264
MAJOR JONES.
transpired. After hearing me patiently to the end he
exclaimed :
“Well, I must say you have made a pretty mess of it,
indeed! Pity but you had drowned old Bacon when you
had him in the canoe.”
Thus ended our crusade against the Burglars of Iola,
neither of whom was ever taken, though one of them was
afterwards shot, somewhere in Georgia, while in the act of
stealing a horse. A representation of the affair was made
to the government, and I believe Colonel Blount was fully
indemnified previous to his removal to Texas, where he
died a few years since.


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