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As I Saw It 
 
 By 
 HARVEY APGYLC C]bs. 
 
 
 STORIES ILLUSTRATED 
 
 Home Publishing Company 
 
 San Trarvcisco ^ California 
 
COPYRIGHTED 1900 jflflW 
 
 BY JOHN JACKSON MC!NTIRE 
 
 PUBLISHED 1902 
 
 All rights in this book, including illustrations, the rights 
 
 of dramatization, recitation, translation, and the 
 
 publication of extracts, are strictly reserved. 
 
 niojts-jupp COMPAXT PRINT, 21-23 naaT T^ 8. B. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 I have no apologies to offer for writing this 
 book. Like Topsy, who "just grew," I wrote as 
 I saw it. 
 
 HARVEY ARGYLE 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Salt River bridge, where Old Uncle made his first appearance 
 
 in camp 32 
 
 The boy spy - - - - - - - - - -48 
 
 The dog that carried the despatch ... 58 
 
 Violin that was captured where Old Uncle made his last 
 charge ------- GO 
 
 The battle where Uncle made his last charge * 64 
 
 The Presidio at San Francisco where the blood-stained poem 
 
 was secured 74 
 
 Copy of blood-stained poem - ~ 76 
 
 Mountain village _---___ -80 
 
 My guides in the forest of tirr.ber 96 
 
 Old Campbell s place - 100 
 
 Sawmill 102 
 
 The mountain home of the "Forest Queen" - - - 108 
 
 Old abandoned mine - 110 
 
 The first camp in our new settlement ----- 120 
 The first homes in the settlement ----- 128 
 Settlement schoolhouse - -- - - - - 144 
 Painting on the wall of the schooihouse - - - 146 
 
 Sugar camp - - - - ... - . . 143 
 My first start on the road as a commercial traveler - - 160 
 
 "Old Laughing Billy Jones " place 176 
 
 The picture of Meyers that Marshall signed my name to - 202 
 
 Horses and riders ready for the race 252 
 
 The finish of the third heat - - - - - - 260 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 Incidents of the Civil War in Missouri - - - 9-72 
 
 The Story of a Blood-Stained Poem - 73-76 
 
 A Story of the Mines ..__... 77-115 
 My First Sweetheart and Scenes of My Childhood 116-155 
 
 The Commercial Traveler - - - - 156-210 
 
 A Horse-Race for a Wife in the Days of Slavery - 211-263 
 
INCIDENTS OF THE CIVIL WAR IN 
 MISSOURI 
 
 In reading over the personal memoirs of 
 U. S. Grant, in Vol. 1, page 252, some incidents 
 of the Civil War in Missouri, not touched upon 
 by him, except in a merely allusive way, were 
 brought to my mind, and as I am sure they have 
 never appeared in print, I will endeavor to relate 
 them as I saw them. 
 
 History tells us of battles fought and number 
 of men killed and wounded, but it does not tell 
 us of the camp life of the soldier nor the pathetic, 
 heroic and amusing incidents by which every battle 
 or skirmish is attended. 
 
 In the year 1861, some companies of raw recruits 
 were ordered from different localities to a little 
 town, less than fifty miles from Mexico, Missouri, 
 which had been designated as a military post, for 
 the purpose of receiving instructions in tactics and 
 drill 
 
10 * INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 The company to which I belonged was organized 
 from the boys of this village and the immediate 
 vicinity and our captain was selected from our 
 number. 
 
 Taken altogether, we were a motley crowd, as 
 may readily be imagined when it is understood 
 that we had no uniforms, that our clothing did not 
 match, and that we were almost totally ignorant 
 of the rudiments of military discipline. Our guns 
 were picked up from the neighboring villages and 
 the country around ; they were of all makes, sizes 
 and shapes. We had to have them, we had to be 
 drilled, and we could not drill without a gun, you 
 know. 
 
 I was at that time, like many others of my 
 comrades, very young. The ages of the men of 
 my company ranged from sixteen to twenty-four 
 years, I, myself, being seventeen years old. 
 
 We knew nothing of military discipline ; we 
 had grown up as wild and free as the jack rabbits 
 that roamed the broad unsettled prairies. 
 
 In order to make us useful the Department sent 
 some brand new officers to our little village to 
 drill us. They were young and handsome, wore 
 new blue suits of clothing, bright shining sabers 
 hanging at their sides, and pretty little straps on 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 11 
 
 their shoulders. It was not very long before 
 trouble began in a quiet way. 
 
 The new officers were invited out to suppers 
 and parties and entertained by the young ladies, 
 whom, previous to their advent on the scene, we 
 had claimed as our sweethearts. So we made up 
 our minds to hedge off that proposition. 
 
 Brass buttons and epaulets have always had an 
 unaccountable attraction for the feminine mind, 
 and thus it came about that we of the rank and 
 file were almost completely ostracized from dances 
 and all the social amusements. We could only 
 go to the young ladies homes when there was no 
 danger of encountering any of our superiors. 
 
 Finally, the officers decided to give a ball. 
 They rented a hall and issued invitations to all 
 the leading men of the town and their families. 
 In the meantime, however, we bought up all the 
 carriages in the place and all the local music, so 
 that our "dress parade soldiers," as we called 
 them, were obliged to send fifteen miles away 
 to order carriages to take our girls to that ball 
 and also to engage an imported string band. 
 Then thinking, no doubt, that some of the men 
 would succeed in obtruding their unwelcome 
 presence upon them, the doors of the hall were 
 
12 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 locked and the windows fastened down. We 
 could walk around the hall and hear the sweet 
 strains of music and the merry laughter of the 
 dancers. Get in? Oh, no! 
 
 The Southern boys were faring about the same 
 as ourselves with regard to their sweethearts, and 
 we had solicited their aid ; so, on the night of the 
 lock-out at the hall we held a consultation. 
 
 Our first move was to procure a lot of cayenne 
 pepper and goose quills, telescoping the quills 
 one upon the other until we had a hollow tube 
 six or eight inches long. We obtained as many 
 of these quills as there were apertures in the hall, 
 then loaded them with the cayenne pepper and 
 blew it in through the keyholes and under the 
 doors and windows. It was not long before all 
 avenues of exit were thrown wide open and a 
 number of very angry guests made their appear 
 ance. Of course we were nowhere to be found. 
 
 Instead of this escapade helping our case it 
 only made it worse. The girls began to tell 
 around what excellent warriors these officers 
 were; they were so thoroughly trained that they 
 could whip their weight in wildcats in fact to 
 attack them, except with well-trained soldiers and 
 in superior numbers, was useless. Such were the 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 13 
 
 exalted opinions that our sweetheart! had of 
 them. And the only possible way to change that 
 opinion was by conniving some kind of a demon 
 stration where no one would be hurt physically. 
 
 A good portion of our company and some of 
 the boys in the immediate neighborhood of the 
 Southerners, who were friends of ours, began to 
 have it noised through the country that our post 
 was to be attacked by the enemy. Reports to 
 this effect were sent in daily. The officers in 
 charge drilled their men harder and faster; the 
 ammunition and accoutrements were looked after 
 with a sharper eye; the big doors of the freight 
 depot were thrown wide open and barricaded 
 with freight of all description for breastworks; 
 and it. was decided that in the event of an attack 
 the troops should at once take refuge within the 
 improvised fort. 
 
 As these disturbing reports became more fre 
 quent we began to hear men of other companies 
 at the post tell what they would do in a fight ; 
 how they would annihilate the enemy, and how 
 they would shoot as long as life lasted. 
 
 This bold talk and the preparations for defense 
 made the young officers feel more secure, and 
 they became more reckless in their boasting. 
 
14 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 While this was going on the boys of our neigh 
 borhood who had been affected by the lock-out 
 were busily engaged gathering all the jacks, jen 
 nies, mules and old horses south of the village, 
 until they had accumulated one hundred and fifty 
 or two hundred head. During the time our 
 friends were thus engaged we procured from St. 
 Louis a number of packages of the largest fire 
 crackers obtainable. Watching our opportunity, 
 we managed to get those in the secret on picket 
 duty this particular night. 
 
 Warnings having been circulated so frequently 
 of a contemplated attack on the village, the offi 
 cers finally became indifferent and relaxed in a 
 measure their vigilance. That was just what we 
 wanted. 
 
 One night, after dark, our band of animals were 
 driven away around the town, right on the oppo 
 site side from where they had been reared, to a 
 corral which we had secured; and every jack and 
 Jennie, horse and mule, had firecrackers attached 
 to mane and tail in such a manner that by setting 
 off one they would keep bursting until all were 
 exploded. When each quadruped had his quota 
 of explosives properly attached we lined them up, 
 and about eleven o clock the men and boys who 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 15 
 
 were engaged for that purpose ignited the pyro 
 technics and turned the fiery steeds loose through 
 the village. The lights were extinguished, and 
 the terrible clatter of two hundred hoofs, added 
 to the flash and roar of the firecrackers, sounded 
 very much like a rifle battle. The only casualty, 
 however, was one of Stone s best jacks killed in 
 front of the depot. All the pickets on duty, 
 understanding the game, fired into the air and 
 ran for the depot to see the fun. 
 
 Those self-declared heroes had forgotten about 
 their avowed intentions to die as such, and more 
 of them ran under the depot than into it. It was 
 a dark night, and as they were only able to see 
 the flash and hear the noise of the infuriated 
 beasts and the explosions of the firecrackers, the 
 officers on watch lost no time in despatching to 
 an old lady s house, where the rest of the " dress 
 parade soldiers" were being entertained by our 
 sweethearts, to advise them that the town was 
 attacked by a large force ; that we were undoubt 
 edly all lost; and to save themselves if they 
 could. We did hear that some of them ran 
 under the bed, but we did not hear any more 
 of the bravery of those men from our sweet 
 hearts. 
 
16 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 In some way unknown to us this prank leaked 
 out, and as it was the men of our company who 
 were the principal instigators of it, we were sent 
 off into Galloway County near the enemy s lines, 
 to a place called Hickory Grove Schoolhouse, 
 our orders being to watch the enemy and report 
 their movements. But the real object in sending 
 us there was that it was hoped that we would 
 encounter our adversaries and be thrashed to a 
 finish. 
 
 With nothing but occasional drill and every 
 day camp duty for a lot of mischievous boys, 
 one can readily imagine how heavily time would 
 hang on our hands. Only a captain with all the 
 qualities of a perfect man could hold our love and 
 respect as ours did. He was brave and kind, at 
 the same time firm, but did not want to see 
 every little infraction of rules the boys might 
 commit. And in return for his consideration of 
 us we esteemed and honored him and would go 
 to any extent to grant his slightest wish. 
 
 There was a little village by the name of Con 
 cord, situated about a mile and a half from where 
 we were encamped at Hickory Grove School- 
 house. In some way or other the boys got word 
 there was to be a dance there one Saturday 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 17 
 
 night, and several of us concluded we would go 
 without permission, for we knew we could not 
 get off if we asked. 
 
 But how to get out of camp with our horses 
 was a hard problem for us to solve ; besides, I did 
 not see how I could go unless I succeeded in 
 borrowing a horse, as mine was so lame that he 
 almost went on three legs. One of my com 
 rades, by the name of Jenkins, said, M I can fix you 
 with a horse." I asked him "How?" "Well," 
 he replied, "your horse and the captain s are so 
 much alike you can hardly tell them apart in the 
 daytime. Now, I ll just take and tie your horse 
 to the tree where the captain s is, and tie the 
 captain s horse to your tree. (You must not 
 know this, of course.) You go and saddle up 
 your horse, and we will go through the pickets 
 one at a time." 
 
 So we saddled up, got away from camp, and on 
 arriving at our destination we were entertained 
 with a rifle volley that made our hair curl. It 
 came in such a way that we could not return by 
 the same route we had come, but were compelled 
 to take a trail through the woods. The path 
 we had taken came, at one point, to within one 
 hundred yards of the road leading to our camp, 
 
18 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 and we stopped there to take an inventory of 
 our casualties. 
 
 The captain s horse, being a spirited fellow, 
 had run away with me. I had lost one shoe, 
 a holster pistol and my hat. One or two of 
 the horses belonging to the others had slight 
 wounds. A fellow by the name of Roberson 
 had one ear nearly shot off. He was a pitiable 
 looking sight, but he jested about it a habit he 
 had of doing upon all occasions, it mattered not 
 how serious. 
 
 While in this secluded little spot we heard a 
 clatter of horses feet coming from the direction 
 of our encampment. We knew it was our boys, 
 and at once decided to keep quiet and let them 
 pass, and then slide back to our quarters before 
 they returned. For we were aware that rifle vol 
 ley had been heard by them, and that was what 
 brought them out. Just as they got opposite our 
 place they called a halt. We heard the captain 
 say, "Lieutenant, take the men and dash forward, 
 my horse is too lame." It must be remembered 
 that he had my horse. The captain returned with 
 two men. After the coast was clear we ventured 
 over into the road and followed close at their heels, 
 replaced the captain s horse, and went to our tents. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 19 
 
 The squad returned that night from Concord, 
 reporting that they were unable to find anyone 
 but peaceable citizens, and that the town appeared 
 to be asleep. 
 
 Next morning the captain was on hand to see 
 that all his men answered to the roll-call. Rob- 
 erson was almost the last to step into line, and, 
 being a natural comedian, the patches upon his 
 ear and on the side of his nose only added to his 
 comical expression. And as he responded to his 
 name in a kind of subdued tone, " I am here, Cap 
 tain," it brought forth such a peal of laughter from 
 the men as made the woods ring. The captain 
 tried to look austere and sternly called out, 
 "Attention!" at the same time turning his head. 
 
 There was no mention made of the incidents of 
 the preceding night ; nothing was said about shots 
 being fired or anybody being out. Roberson 
 was not even asked about the huge patch upon 
 his ear; not one word was uttered by the captain 
 with regard to his horse being lame, although he 
 went out with a reconnoitering party the next day. 
 We felt so much ashamed of treating him in such 
 a manner that we were good for a long time after 
 wards. However, it became awfully monotonous 
 staying at this little schoolhouse, and we began 
 
20 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 to look around for some loop-hole through which 
 to escape in an honorable way. 
 
 From what we heard we had formed a favorable 
 opinion of the new Commander in Mexico, 
 Missouri, then Colonel Grant, and we were 
 desirous to get under his wing if we could. The 
 captain had so expressed himself upon numerous 
 occasions, and as we wished to make amends for 
 the past we wanted his ambition gratified. 
 
 Therefore, a few of us were constantly on the 
 lookout for an opportunity to bring about this 
 longed for consummation. We determined not to 
 take too many into our confidence, as we had done 
 before, so only our mess of twelve men were in 
 the secret. 
 
 About half a mile from where we encamped we 
 had noticed that an old lady of the masculine type 
 had a very fine lot of turkeys. Our captain s 
 tent was adjoining ours and some of his men went 
 out and killed two wild turkeys. They didn t do 
 a thing but just cook and eat those turkeys in 
 front of our very eyes and never said turkey to us 
 once. 
 
 After this Roberson called a meeting in our tent 
 and said, "Boys, I have it. You know the 
 Commander at Mexico will never allow stealing." 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 21 
 
 Then he proceeded to lay his plan before us and 
 we gladly assented to it. So away we went, down 
 through a brushy canyon, about a quarter of a 
 mile from where the old lady s turkeys roosted, 
 appropriated rails from a fence near-by, and built 
 a narrow pen four or five feet high and covered it 
 over. The next night we carried corn from the 
 owner s crib and took all of her turkeys and placed 
 them in this pen. The enclosure having been 
 built over a little stream of water, they could 
 remain there for some time without receiving any 
 injury, as we had placed sufficient food there to 
 last several days. The next night, after the turkeys 
 had been safely penned, a couple of the boys went 
 around to the farm to buy some milk. 
 
 They took off their hats to the old lady and 
 were exceedingly polite, for they saw she had her 
 fighting clothes on. Having offered to pay for 
 anything they got, she finally cooled down and 
 invited them into the house, remarking as she did 
 so, " Do you know that you fellows are all a pack 
 of thieves?" Asking her to explain what she 
 meant, she told them that some twenty-five of 
 her turkeys had been stolen. They said they 
 could give her some information if she promised 
 never to tell, and to this she hastily agreed. Then 
 
22 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 they told her to go over to the camp directly 
 behind the captain s tent and she would see a pile 
 of feathers there and perhaps she would recognize 
 them as belonging to her turkeys; if so, the 
 fowls had probably all been eaten by this time. 
 The balance of the messes would not be so bold 
 as to leave the feathers around where they could 
 be seen. Before leaving they said to her, " Do 
 not go until we get back as they might suspect us 
 of telling you." 
 
 About four o clock that afternoon an irate 
 female made her appearance at the captain s tent, 
 inspected the feathers, pronounced them to be the 
 plumage that had belonged to her fowl, and abused 
 the captain in a disgraceful manner. Leaving in 
 great indignation, she went to Mexico and com 
 plained of the theft of her turkeys. The captain 
 was commanded to report at headquarters and 
 give an explanation of his conduct. Of course, 
 he could not go in safety with less than fifty men, 
 and a greater part of the mess, myself included, 
 were among the lucky ones detailed to escort him 
 to that place. 
 
 Upon our arrival we were lined up in front of 
 the Commander s tent. Our captain was repri 
 manded, the turkey racket smoothed over and the 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 23 
 
 captain and his little band sent back the next day 
 into seclusion to await further orders. 
 
 It was understood by the boys in the secret 
 that while we were away and before we returned 
 the turkeys were to be let loose. Upon the 
 captain s arrival at the camp the old woman 
 reappeared and on bended knees apologized for 
 the trouble she had caused him. She stated at 
 the same time that every one of the missing 
 poultry had returned, and said, "Captain, I ve 
 raised turkeys nigh unto forty years and never 
 had that happen to me before." Thereupon the 
 captain flew into a rage, ordered the old lady 
 under arrest, and there was another detail of fifty 
 men appointed to escort him back to Mexico to 
 have the stain of turkey stealing erased from his 
 name. 
 
 On arriving there the prisoner made her 
 explanation, and nearly all the men were closely 
 questioned to find out what they knew of this 
 turkey deal. They, of course, knew nothing. So 
 the captain was ordered to return and move his 
 camp without delay to Mexico, where his men 
 must be disciplined. 
 
 Reaching camp, we found those on guard there 
 in a turmoil of excitement. Reports had been 
 
"24 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 received that the rebels were in strong force 
 in the immediate neighborhood. The men had 
 worked all night digging trenches and building 
 a stockade, as they were hourly expecting an 
 attack. When the captain made enquiries of the 
 officer in charge as to the grounds upon which 
 he had based his surmise of an attack, he replied 
 that scouts had discovered a large number of 
 fresh tracks coming from the northwest, going 
 southeast to where there was a deep canyon, 
 heavily covered with timber, not more than three 
 miles distant, and he believed the enemy were 
 concentrating there for the purpose of attack 
 ing us. 
 
 I, being a sergeant, and the captain knowing 
 that I had been all through that country before 
 the war with hunters and surveyors, he ordered me 
 to detail ten men and proceed at once to investi 
 gate the cause of this alarm. At the same time 
 he despatched a courier on the fleetest-footed 
 horse in the company to Mexico for reinforce 
 ments. 
 
 I selected ten young men of about my own 
 age from the mess I belonged to and started out 
 to take the trail where they had discovered the 
 tracks. Those imprints we followed through 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 25 
 
 farms and over hills for some three miles; and 
 then the tracks appeared to increase in numbers, 
 there being all kinds, sizes and shapes repre 
 sented. 
 
 At length we arrived at the top of a high cliff. 
 Taking our field-glass and looking over this cliff 
 into a beautiful valley of about fifty acres, we dis 
 covered a cluster of trees surrounding a log cabin 
 enclosed with a post and rail fence. Here horses 
 and mules of all descriptions were tied as thick 
 as they could stand. There was not a man ir 
 sight, and I must say this looked suspicious. 
 Holding a consultation, we decided to go back 
 and take the road leading to the house, dash 
 by under full speed, lying flat on our horses 
 sides opposite from the house, and as we passed 
 by the dwelling to fire from the pummels of our 
 saddles, if necessary. Having practised this 
 horsemanship often, we were quite expert at it. 
 
 However, discovering that the owners of those 
 horses were darkies attending a funeral, we rode 
 up to the fence. I dismounted, wrote a brief 
 despatch and sent it to the captain by one of my 
 squad. It read as follows: 
 
 "DEAR SIR: Took up the trail as you sug 
 gested one mile northwesterly from our camp; 
 
26 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 followed tracks for four miles ; found them increas 
 ing as we advanced. Arrived at place of con 
 centration. Judge there are about one hundred 
 and twenty heart-broken darkies at a nigger 
 funeral. I remain awhile to question them and 
 see if we can get any clue to the enemy being in 
 this locality. Will report by roll-call this evening. 
 "Respectfully, 
 
 "HARVEY ARGYLE." 
 
 Leaving my men on guard, I proceeded to the 
 back door, where the darkies were huddled 
 together. This shanty was situated in a valley 
 which was part of a large tobacco plantation, and 
 had been given to an old colored man and his 
 blind wife by the owner for their faithful services 
 to him in their younger days. 
 
 Years before, the master of these old slaves 
 had bought a little darkey boy and given him into 
 their keeping. And he had grown up under their 
 care and had learned to love them as his own. 
 From his bewailihgs over "Uncle Joe," as he 
 called him, I then and there wrote the following 
 verses : 
 
 Oh, poor ole Joe is a dyin , Sam, 
 
 His life is ebbin away, 
 De days ob de coon an de possum, Sam, 
 Am gone from us dis day. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 27 
 
 Oh, de days we worked in de tobacco field, 
 
 Dem happy days are o er, 
 An poor ole Joe is a dyin now, 
 
 You ll neber see him more. 
 
 Oh, de ole log cabin I lub so well, 
 
 Which I built so long ago, 
 I se a gwine to leabe to ole Aunt Hanna; 
 
 She was good to poor ole Joe. 
 It will house an shelter de dear ole soul; 
 
 You know she s ole an blind, 
 An only a few short years are left 
 
 Dat she 11 remain behind. 
 
 Oh, de possum an coon we shall hunt no more, 
 
 But de skins on de cabin walls 
 Will remind you, Sam, ob our hunting days 
 
 Till de ole log cabin falls. 
 When you sit by de fire on de winter s night, 
 
 And de hickory embers glow, 
 You 11 think ob de Christmas fire we built, 
 
 And you ll not forget ole Joe. 
 
 Den take de ole banjo from de wall, 
 
 An* sing one last ole song, 
 It will cheer my last sad moments, Sam, 
 
 While death is comin along. 
 And when from yon ole churchyard, Sam, 
 
 You ll return to de cabin alone, 
 You ll comfort ole Aunt Hanna, Sam, 
 
 When poor ole Joe is gone. 
 
28 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 So he took de ole banjo from de wall, 
 
 An his eyes were rilled with tears, 
 As he sang de song de ole man lubed, 
 
 De song ob happier years; 
 An de darkies came from miles aroun , 
 
 An joined in de song ob woe, 
 An de tears fell down from ebery eye, 
 
 For dey dearly lubed ole Joe. 
 
 As the colored people always looked upon the 
 Union soldiers as their friends, our presence did 
 not disturb them in the least, and they went on 
 paying their last tribute of love to the white-haired 
 old man who had been for so many years their 
 adviser and leader in corn shuckings, coon and 
 possum hunts, as well as their prompter, in his 
 younger days, at many of the dances and hoe- 
 downs. He had also been a lover of the banjo, 
 and played it well in his day. After paying our 
 respects to the dead, we ourselves went away 
 saddened. 
 
 Returning to camp about dark, we received the 
 information that our company had been ordered 
 to move to Mexico, and quickly following in their 
 wake we overtook them ten miles out on the 
 road. 
 
 The messenger whom the captain had des 
 patched to Mexico for reinforcements was a new 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 29 
 
 recruit, an inveterate gossip, and he spread the 
 report broadcast that the enemy had undoubt 
 edly annihilated us by this time. 
 
 This news, of course, reached the camp from 
 which we had been banished for that horse and 
 firecracker racket. Overjoyed at the intelli 
 gence, they were getting ready to celebrate our 
 signal defeat; but their rejoicing was short-lived, 
 as they received a telegram from some of the 
 boys saying that we had met the enemy, four 
 times our number, had killed one hundred and 
 fifty and captured two hundred head of their 
 horses; that we were now safe in Mexico and 
 several of the boys had been promoted for their 
 bravery. In order to win we had recourse to a 
 little strategy, hence the telegram. 
 
 I think this telegram cost four dollars, but we 
 chipped in and paid it without a murmur. The 
 fellows who were preparing to rejoice felt very 
 much chagrined. Sweet revenge was ours, as 
 the girls now called them cowards and boobtes 
 and wrote us kindly letters. 
 
 A few days after our arrival at Salt River 
 bridge, Roberson, the comedian of the company, 
 received a note from one of the young officers 
 who took the leading part in our banishment 
 
30 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 from the home post, accusing him of being the 
 leader of all the deviltry our company got into. 
 The words used were so brief, cold and stiff that 
 the paper broke where he signed his name. 
 
 We camped at Salt River to guard the bridge 
 and to be instructed in cavalry and infantry tac 
 tics; and here we received our first initiation in 
 discipline. 
 
 We had not been there very long before we 
 discovered a fine watermelon patch some three 
 or four miles down the river. A few of us 
 arranged one night to go out and sample them. 
 The patch was situated right at the head of a 
 ravine in the center of a corn field. The corn 
 was well ripened and as high as a horse s back, 
 and around the head of this ravine, where the 
 watermelon patch was situated, there was a fine 
 plot of green grass where a cow and her young 
 calf had been picketed by a long rope. The field 
 was enclosed with an old-fashioned rail fence. 
 The owner of this property was a penurious and 
 grasping old bachelor, one who would feel the 
 loss of a watermelon more than some people 
 would a hundred dollars, and the boys hearing 
 this, naturally thought his watermelons would 
 taste sweeter than any one else s. One night 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 31 
 
 some ten or twelve of the boys stole out from 
 camp and made their way along the road until 
 they got opposite this patch. They tied their 
 horses to the fence, about a quarter of a mile 
 distant, and proceeded to the place without delay, 
 not being aware that the cow and calf had been 
 tied there. When they suddenly emerged from 
 the thick corn into the watermelon patch the 
 cow became frightened and gave vent to a bellow 
 that brought the old man from the house with a 
 double-barreled shotgun. Quickly dashing for 
 ward, he frightened the cow still more and she 
 tore loose from her moorings and rushed pell- 
 mell straight for the fence where the boys horses 
 were tied. In the meantime we had slipped off 
 to one side and lain down to await results. 
 
 It was not long before we knew them. The 
 old man had followed the rattle of the corn 
 ahead of him, never dreaming for one moment 
 but that it was the boys trying to escape from 
 him, and just as the cow was nearing the fence 
 where the horses had been left, he turned loose, 
 with both barrels of his gun, right down the 
 center of the two rows of corn, filling the cow 
 full of shot. With a bellow and a bound she 
 dashed headlone into the fence where our steeds 
 
32 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 were hitched, knocking off several of the rails and 
 causing the horses to break loose. With fright 
 ened snorts and flying tails our riderless mounts 
 made for camp, where their arrival created no 
 small sensation, and an hour or two after they 
 were followed by a dozen very crestfallen troop 
 ers, who were promptly gathered into the guard 
 house. 
 
 You should have seen the fun the boys had the 
 next day, marking time for two hours bareheaded 
 in the boiling hot sun. 
 
 One day after drill, while we boys were lying 
 on the grass resting and pleasantly idling an hour 
 away under the shade trees that skirted that beau 
 tiful little stream known as Salt River, an old man 
 was observed slowly approaching. 
 
 He had a sweet, kind face, and long, white, 
 curly locks of hair hanging down to his shoulders 
 (showing plainly he had been some fond mother s 
 curly-headed boy). 
 
 His form was small and slender and slightly 
 bent from at least seventy years of earthly 
 struggles. He was a study to me as he appealed 
 to different ones to get him some work, "Any 
 thing! just to live! just for some place to stay! " 
 
 One of our number said, "Join the army, my 
 bov." 
 
Salt River bridge, where Old Uncle made his first appearance in camp. 
 
OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 33 
 
 The old man replied, "They don t want me 
 now; I am too old. The army had my young 
 life." Then he produced a roll of paper bearing 
 out his assertion. 
 
 " You never carried a gun," vouchsafed another, 
 " I don t think you were large enough to carry one ; 
 besides, you were never in a fight when they fought 
 to kill, and did kill in other words a battle, a 
 charge. Would you stay in a case like that?" 
 
 The old man made no comment until the young 
 fellow had finished, then with his clear blue eyes 
 almost flashing sparks of fire, he answered, "My 
 dear boy, I did not apply for a fighting position. 
 I never said I would fight to kill, or that I ever 
 had, I only stated that I was in the army, as my 
 papers prove. I have done my duty when a 
 soldier under the stars and stripes to the best of 
 my ability, and would defend it to-day if necessary, 
 or if an opportunity offered. I may seem weak, 
 but I would give my strength, my life, if need be, 
 to that grand old banner. Now that I am old I 
 have no home ; no one wants me, and I am 
 hungry and tired. Can I rest here awhile, gentle 
 men?" giving an appealing glance down the line. 
 
 For an instant there was no reply. Then some 
 one suggested he had better move on. 
 
34 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 Quick as a flash our flag-bearer, Jack Richards, 
 sprang to his feet and exclaimed, "No, never!" 
 (He too had been studying the old man.) 
 
 Jack was a quiet unassuming youngster, but he 
 had a big heart, and it was generally understood 
 was possessed of some means outside of that which 
 he earned from Uncle Sam. 
 
 He approached the old man and said, "Uncle." 
 (The boys laughed and said, "Jack, found your 
 Uncle, eh?") 
 
 "Yes," Jack replied, "He shall be my Uncle 
 while here. Now, Uncle, what is it you wish?" 
 
 The old man said, "Some place to stay, to be 
 with somebody, and if in return for that kindness 
 there is anything I can do to prove my apprecia 
 tion just command me." 
 
 Jack took him by the hand, led him to the 
 mess tent and fed him, then to the sutler s tent, 
 fitted him from top to toe with clothing, and gave 
 him blankets, telling him to stop around there. 
 
 Our new companion was not very long in camp 
 until we all called him Uncle, and he won the 
 esteem and respect of every one in it. The 
 young man who had been so harsh with him 
 upon his arrival made ample apology for his 
 conduct. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 35 
 
 He was always on hand if anyone in camp was 
 sick. You did not have to send for him. He 
 appeared to know just what to do ; in fact, he was 
 mother and father both to the officers and boys. 
 Other companies associated with us would send 
 for him, but no one could wean him away from 
 the first friend he had found in camp. 
 
 Jack s slightest wish was law to him, and when 
 the flag-bearer was once on the sick list the poor 
 old man would sit by his side by the hour and 
 refused to touch a morsel of food except when Jack 
 could be induced to partake of some. 
 
 I never saw such devotion. He won the hearts 
 of all and his unostentatious self-sacrifices made 
 better men of us all. 
 
 The old man had but little to say regarding his 
 past. His whole aim and object in life seemed 
 to be to repay Jack for the kindness which had 
 been shown him when he first came among us. 
 Little did he think he would some day be called 
 upon to risk his life at Jack s request, but when 
 the occasion did come he was equal to it, thereby 
 according to him a niche of honor in our life-long 
 memories of the Civil War. 
 
 Roberson, the comedian of the company, fig 
 ured in a horse sale while we were at Salt Lake 
 
36 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 bridge, which was somewhat characteristic of the 
 horse sharp and which still further added to our 
 notoriety. 
 
 He formed the acquaintance of a banker in 
 Mexico by the name of Ringo, who was generally 
 liked by everybody for his genial, affable and 
 unaffected manner, and who was considered one 
 of the shrewdest men in a horse trade in that 
 locality, being one of several who bought horses 
 and sold them to the Government. 
 
 Mr. Ringo, while in conversation with Mr. 
 Roberson, asked him if he knew of anyone who 
 had some horses for sale. Roberson replied that 
 he had a friend down in Pike County who had a 
 couple of very fine horses. Ringo asked him to 
 write to his friend and tell him to bring them up. 
 
 In a few days Roberson s friend arrived with a 
 fine pair of sixteen-hand horses, and they pre 
 sented themselves, together with the horses, at 
 Mr. Ringo s place of business. 
 
 Mr. Ringo came out, looked the horses over 
 carefully, and stated that while the span was 
 very fine there was no demand at present for 
 them and he did not care to buy except at a very 
 low figure, which he named. Roberson and his 
 friend were chagrined at this unexpected tack of 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 37 
 
 the banker. As his friend needed money and 
 the other buyers being out of town, they decided 
 it was best to take Ringo s offer rather than lead 
 them back fifty or sixty miles and take the 
 chances of having them taken away from them by 
 the enemy. When the horses were turned over 
 to Ringo, Roberson noticed Ringo chuckling to 
 himself at his clever ruse in the deal and he 
 made up his mind to play even if an opportunity 
 ever offered. 
 
 One day, a few weeks after this, an old fellow 
 drove into camp with some forage. He had a 
 splendid-looking pair of sorrels before his wagon 
 and Roberson noticed that in pulling up the 
 steep river bank they were very badly wind 
 broken that is, an extra exertion of any kind 
 would cause them to throw their mouths wide 
 open and blow furiously. Roberson approached, 
 and after quickly examining the span said, "Old 
 man, do you want to sell those horses?" "Yep! 
 but they re no account." Roberson replied, 
 "That s the reason I want them." 
 
 "Well," the old man responded, "I have one 
 more load of corn to deliver before I can receive 
 my voucher, and if you like you may have those 
 horses for forty dollars a piece." Roberson sealed 
 
38 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 the bargain at once by paying him twenty dol 
 lars, promising that the balance would be ready 
 when the horses were delivered. 
 
 After Roberson received his steeds he procured 
 a couple of what are called halter bridles a strap 
 passing over the nose, well down toward the 
 nostrils, with a similar strap running underneath 
 the jaw with a buckle on it. After the bit was 
 placed in the horse s mouth this strap under the 
 jaw could be tightened up so that it would be 
 impossible for the horse to open his mouth and 
 display his poor qualities as to good wind, which 
 was one of the principal qualifications requisite 
 for a horse to pass Government inspection. 
 
 These horses made a very fine appearance. 
 They were about eight years old and had no 
 discernible blemishes. Roberson sent for his 
 friend to come up at once; then one afternoon he 
 took the two sorrels, put on the halter bridles and 
 rode leisurely past Ringo s place. 
 
 Ringo was seated upon his porch, enjoying his 
 after-lunch cigar. The high-stepping sorrels at 
 once attracted his attention. They were a pair 
 of thoroughbreds ; there could be no mistake about 
 that. If he could only secure them at a reason 
 able figure. It was an opportunity not to be lost. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 39 
 
 He arose and went down to the gate. Roberson 
 rode on slowly, seemingly unconscious of the 
 horse-dealer s presence. 
 
 " Hello!" Ringo called. "Roberson, do you 
 want to sell those horses?" "Not to you," he 
 replied. Just at this opportune moment another 
 buyer approached Roberson on horseback and 
 they held a long consultation. (This meeting of 
 Roberson and the buyer at that particular time and 
 place was well understood between them.) When 
 Ringo s supposed opponent in this particular deal 
 had ridden away, he requested Roberson to ride 
 his horses up to the gate. Ringo looked them 
 over. 
 
 "Trot them down the road," he requested. 
 
 "What for?" Roberson asked. "To see if 
 their wind is all right," Ringo responded. 
 
 "What difference does that make to you? I 
 I wouldn t sell them to you, anyway; besides, 
 I wouldn t trot barefooted horses over the rough 
 cobbles on this street." 
 
 At that Roberson rode away. As he did so 
 Ringo called out if he would come back and 
 tie those two animals up and take off their 
 saddles, he would give him two hundred and fifty 
 dollars. The profitable deal in which he had 
 
40 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 figured with these two men was still fresh in his 
 mind, as it was also in Roberson s and his friend s. 
 They rode back, turned over the horses and 
 received the two hundred and fifty dollars. The 
 horses were sent to the corral, where there 
 were two or three carloads of horses in waiting to 
 be shipped to St. Louis the next day. This little 
 trick leaked out among all the dealers opposed to 
 Ringo in the horse market, and ail were watching 
 and waiting in readiness to take the train to St. 
 Louis, as soon as the shipment was made, to see 
 the fun at the inspection. 
 
 As a number of boys in camp had gotten wind 
 of this amusing incident they secured furloughs 
 and went along with Roberson and the other 
 horsemen, unknown to Ringo. 
 
 The inspection consisted of running the horses 
 from a quarter to half a mile under full speed, 
 then returning and jumping poles two feet high 
 from the ground, to test their wind and limbs. 
 
 We arrived on the spot in due time. Crowds 
 were lined up on either side of the testing-track 
 to watch the performance. 
 
 Up to this time Mr. Ringo had the credit of 
 selling the Government some of the finest cavalry 
 and artillery horses that ever led a charge. He 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 41 
 
 was proud of this distinction, and was always on 
 hand to witness the performance of his steeds. 
 So often had he been there and gone through 
 this that he became a familiar figure to the fre 
 quenters of the testing-track. This day quite 
 a number of his horses were brought out, and I 
 must say their performances were creditable to 
 the buyer. 
 
 We were watching, with no small amount of 
 anxiety, to see the two sorrels make their appear 
 ance. 
 
 We were sure they would bring them together, 
 for they were high-headed and made a splendid 
 appearance when standing still. Finally they 
 dashed from the stables, under whip and spur, 
 with their mouths wide open, blowing like two 
 sea-lions; the shouts that went up from the 
 crowd frightened the animals and they became 
 unmanageable. The inspectors signaled and 
 called for the riders to return, but they were pow 
 erless to do so; the horses continued to plunge 
 and blow, and the thousands of people along the 
 line were convulsed with laughter. 
 
 Ringo was dumbfounded, sending his men in 
 all directions to see if there was anyone present 
 from Mexico to witness his defeat. It was not 
 
42 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 long, however, before he discovered where the 
 boys were stopping who had played even with 
 him on the former horse deal. He had their hotel 
 bill arranged for, without their knowledge, and 
 on our return from Mexico, Roberson and a few 
 of his friends who were with him in St. Louis 
 were invited to Mr. Ringo s home and banqueted 
 in an up-to-date style. He said he had more fun 
 out of that horse deal than anything that had 
 occurred in all his life. 
 
 We drilled for a time at Salt River, and I 
 became restless and longed for adventure. My 
 thoughts wandered back to an old friend of mine 
 by the name of Foster, with whom I had roomed 
 for a year or two before the war. 
 
 He had at one time been a star actor and an 
 athlete as well. Having given up the histrionic 
 profession he came to our town to live on account 
 of his health. He had a trunkful of stage 
 paraphernalia, and we frequently had amateur 
 plays. He fixed me up for the occasion and I 
 generally made a hit when he did so. 
 
 My last appearance was in "Widow Bedott,"a 
 benefit given for the Sunday-school in the little 
 town where I lived. The village belle, Miss 
 Anna Bay, appeared as the Widow Bedott, and 
 I took the part of Elder Sniffles. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 43 
 
 Miss Bay was very retiring in her manners, and 
 had never been known to participate in anything 
 of the kind before, but as she was one of the 
 leaders in the Sunday-school she had to do her 
 part, although it required a great amount of 
 persuasion to obtain her consent. 
 
 The night the benefit came off the hall was 
 crowded to the door. Miss Bay was fair of face 
 and form, with a pretty little foot to match, and 
 she knew it. As I was sitting under the tree 
 listening to her part there was a house broom 
 standing near, and in moving it a large straw 
 happened to fall. As I glanced at the pretty 
 slipper showing off her foot and ankle to such an 
 advantage, I picked up that straw and stuck it 
 through the stocking just above the slipper. She 
 felt the sting of the straw, sprang forward, grabbed 
 the broom, and with the flat part struck me on 
 the top of my plug hat and drove it down over 
 my eyes, breaking my glasses and at the same 
 time nearly stunning me; she then ran off the 
 stage. Being unable to remove the hat, I was 
 blind, so to speak. Up to this time the play was 
 dry to me and the audience did not seem to 
 appreciate my position, but when that hat came 
 down over my ears the house rang with laughter 
 
44 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 and cheers. They had seen my little maneuver 
 and it met with overwhelming applause. 
 
 I got up and remained standing, wondering 
 what in the world to do. The prompter behind 
 the scenes, not knowing what had happened when 
 there was a lull, spoke so loudly that nearly all 
 the audience could hear him admonishing me thus : 
 
 "Bow your acknowledgments; bow your 
 acknowledgments! " The audience went wild, so 
 I bowed again and again, not knowing my back 
 was turned to the house. 
 
 The prompter discovered my position and took 
 me off the stage. Then and there the young 
 lady s sweetheart, Andy Wilson, challenged me 
 to a fist-fight for what I had done. 
 
 I thought of my friend Foster s gloves, and 
 wondered if he would train me. 
 
 So I told the infuriated youth I would lick him 
 to a finish in twenty-one days from that time. I 
 pleaded I was sick and was not well then, and it 
 would be no credit to him to lick a sick boy. He 
 assented to the twenty-one days. 
 
 This occurred behind the curtain, but the show 
 stopped then and there. 
 
 I went to my room, told my friend what had 
 happened, and asked him what I should do. 
 
CIVIL WAR IX MISSOURI 45 
 
 Give him a surprise party," he said. I asked 
 him what he meant by that, so he said he would 
 fix up an old pair of gloves he had, and train me 
 to make a punching-bag of him. "Give him the 
 gloves to put on the day of the fight, but don t tell 
 him you have been training," was Foster s advice. 
 
 We met, but called it off. Nevertheless, that 
 training assisted me in carrying out a most daring 
 scheme as a spy. Afterward we joined the same 
 military company and became good friends again. 
 Miss Anna Bay, his sweetheart, forgave me for 
 that little trick I played upon her on the night of 
 the amateur show. She often wrote to the boy 
 she loved, and we all looked forward to the day 
 when her letter would arrive, and we would hud 
 dle together to hear the home news dished up in 
 a most entertaining way. Her letters were full 
 of interest, as well as ready wit and humor, and 
 she never forgot to give his comrades words of 
 good cheer. 
 
 While lying around the camp I got to thinking 
 about my old friend Foster, and washing he was 
 in the land of the living. Poor fellow, he died 
 just before the war broke out. He left me a box 
 of his wigs and facial fixings, and had taught me 
 how to make up until I was fairly good at it. 
 
46 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 So I wrote to a friend of mine, telling him 
 where I had left this box and asking him to ship 
 it to me at Mexico. In due time the box arrived; 
 I became restless. 
 
 Now and then some of the companies from the 
 regiment would go out in the direction of the 
 Missouri River and have a brush with the enemy, 
 but almost invariably without satisfactory results, 
 as the wily foe generally disappeared before we 
 had an opportunity to strike. 
 
 My father was first lieutenant in another 
 regiment and I was allowed to visit him occasion 
 ally. One day, just after he had returned from a 
 reconnoitering trip, I went with him to Colonel 
 Grant s tent. 
 
 The colonel said to him, "If it was only possible 
 to get some one familiar with the country and 
 not known by the people to go in there, find out 
 their haunts and customs, and how they manage 
 to disperse so quickly and get together apparently 
 as readily, it would be of great advantage to us." 
 I spoke up and said, " I know the country and 
 some of the people, and I can do it." 
 
 The colonel smiled and my father looked very 
 much annoyed because I had spoken. I said 
 no more to them, but I made up my mind that I 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 47 
 
 would disguise myself and go ; but I must confide 
 in some one. I thought of Dobbins, the mail 
 agent on the North Missouri (now the Wabash), 
 and waited that night until his train came down. 
 I jumped on his car and said, " Dave, write my 
 father, just as soon as you get in, that I am in 
 St. Louis, came down with you, in order to reach 
 him by to-morrow night." Then I told Dave 
 briefly my plans. 
 
 I flew to camp, took all my belongings, and 
 went up town that night and got a room in a 
 lodging-house. - Then I went to a second-hand 
 clothing store and bought a pair of pants which 
 did not reach the tops of my shoes by four inches, 
 and in which there were numerous patches ; an 
 old pair of brogan shoes, both for the same foot ; 
 a vest, short and ragged ; a jacket coat which was 
 altogether too large ; and a dirty looking white 
 slouch hat, with a hole in the middle, completed 
 my outfit. 
 
 Then going back to my rooms, I donned the 
 clothes, hid my uniform in an old attic, fixed my 
 facial expression, and put on a well-fitting wig 
 with long, dirty looking hair. When I put on 
 that hat, with a lock pulled through the hole in 
 the crown, I really looked an object of pity. 
 
48 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 In order to get into the enemy s lines and make 
 a success of my undertaking I knew I must devise 
 some way to obtain access to the guardhouse with 
 the suspects they had confined there. I felt sure 
 I could accomplish it if my identity was not dis 
 covered before I got in, for they were arresting 
 everybody who looked the least bit suspicious. 
 The suspects were given their liberty if there was 
 nothing found against them, and my hopes were 
 that I was to be arrested and then turned loose 
 with some of the Rebel prisoners. 
 
 I secured an old abandoned mare from the 
 commons, a rope bridle, and a saddle to match. 
 This animal had been handsome in her younger 
 days, but that era of her life had long since 
 departed. Taking some small memorandum 
 books and pencil which I secreted in my shoes, 
 I presented myself at the colonel s tent about 
 dusk. 
 
 One of the staff officers came out and said, 
 "Well, my boy, what do you want?" 
 
 " I want work, sir." 
 
 "What kind of work?" 
 
 "Well, most anything; I d like to be a sol 
 dier." 
 
 "What! you a soldier?" 
 
The boy spy. 
 
- " ~- 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI to 
 
 In a moment a suspicious look came into his 
 eyes, and he proceeded to question me still further. 
 
 "What s your name?" 
 
 I answered, "Sammy Smith." 
 
 With a shrug of his shoulders, "Very uncom 
 mon name. Where do you live?" 
 
 "Everywhere." 
 
 He walked up close to me, and looking me 
 square in the face until my heart almost failed 
 me, said, " Say, my boy, where have you been the 
 last two or three months?" 
 
 The question nearly paralyzed me, but I thought 
 a moment. I must be equal to the occasion, or 
 the boys would guy me into the next world. 1 
 replied, " I have been sick for a long time." 
 
 "Where?" he quickly asked. 
 
 " In the county hospital, sir." 
 
 "What county?" 
 
 " I don t know, sir, and I ain t very well just 
 now, sir." 
 
 Quicker than a flash he replied, " If you are as 
 sick as you look, your funeral is over. Say, my 
 boy, where is your father?" 
 
 " Don t know, sir." 
 
 "Your mother?" 
 
 Don t know, sir; guess I ain t got any." 
 
50 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 He looked me all over for a few minutes, pulled 
 the old mare s tail, felt the bundle of rags tied on 
 the back of the saddle, and I expected every 
 moment he would look through my clothing, 
 especially as I was in a manner round-shouldered 
 from the wigs and things I had stored away 
 under my coat on my back to disguise myself 
 with when occasion required. 
 
 But he didn t. Instead, he hustled me off to 
 the guardhouse and the old mare to the corral. 
 
 I was placed with other prisoners, and they, 
 too, looked upon me with suspicion, imagining, 
 no doubt, that I was placed in there to hear what 
 they had to say. Now I knew I was in for it, 
 and had to make the best of it. I must work 
 myself into the good graces of the prisoners. 
 
 After I had been under guard for awhile I 
 began to debate in my mind whether that cuss 
 knew me or just wanted to see if I had the pluck, 
 sense and good judgment to carry out such a 
 dangerous and valuable project, or didn t he 
 really know me and merely suspected that I was 
 a spy for the Rebels? 
 
 Well, I thought, there is but one thing to do 
 and that is to play it out to the best of my ability. 
 My father had received a letter from Mr. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 51 
 
 Dobbins stating that I had gone to St. Louis, 
 and this becoming known in camp satisfactorily 
 explained my absence. Hearing this talked over 
 by the guards outside where I was imprisoned, I 
 resolved not to let the slightest opportunity pass 
 which would enable me to accomplish my object. 
 
 After being in the guardhouse all night and 
 the next day life became monotonous, and the 
 prisoners, some six in number, did not seem to 
 take kindly to me until after the second night, 
 when one of the prisoners, well advanced in years 
 and rather frail, was taken sick. I was fairly 
 good at nursing and went to work and heated 
 bricks and placed them around his limbs to keep 
 him warm. 
 
 It was a dark night and the only light we had 
 was that from the fireplace in the loghouse where 
 we were imprisoned. 
 
 About twelve o clock I heard a clink of dishes 
 at the door outside, where the guard was, so I 
 peeped through a crack and saw that he had 
 ordered from a near-by restaurant a most appetiz 
 ing little repast. I knew from the aroma that it 
 was accompanied by some real coffee, not army 
 mess beverage. As it was within easy reach of 
 the door, and the guard could only take a sip 
 
52 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 now and then (he was not allowed to stop on his 
 beat) as he walked to and fro, I concluded that 
 I would just take that lunch to the old man 
 when the sentry got to the further end of his 
 beat. 
 
 I called to the old man s son, " Cover over the 
 coals in the fireplace with ashes and dirt so that 
 the guard cannot see in." The fire was darkened 
 at once. I opened the door just the least bit, 
 poured the coffee into one of the tin cups, took 
 what chicken and other goodies I could get, and 
 placing them in a towel, put it under the old 
 man s blanket so that he could eat it without 
 being detected. 
 
 The old man had taken but a little when he 
 said to me, "God bless you honey, my poor little 
 unfortunate boy, you have helped me." In an 
 instant his son turned to me and extending his 
 hand, gave me a hearty shake. 
 
 By this time the guard outside had missed his 
 lunch and he was expressing, in loud tones, his 
 opinion of anyone who would do such a thing. 
 
 As I knew that he could not recognize my 
 voice I proceeded to have some fun at his 
 expense, so I said, "Keep still out there; we 
 can t sleep." 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI . 53 
 
 He replied, "Some one has stolen my supper 
 and if I knew who it was who did it I d put a 
 bayonet through him." 
 
 I told him to come in and try it for I had 
 stolen it. 
 
 He thought I was only teasing him, and I was 
 just as well pleased that he took it that way ; but 
 my bluff worked, for he said he knew who did it, 
 the same chap had done it once before. 
 
 My prison comrades felt relieved, for they 
 were sure I would be caught and punished ; but 
 I told them I did not care, for the officer who 
 ordered me under arrest said I would not live 
 very long anyway. This little episode placed me 
 in good favor with the prisoners and they began 
 to look upon me as the real thing, and as one 
 who could and would do a good turn for them. 
 
 After a couple of days they took five of us out, 
 gave us our horses and then, escorted by six 
 mounted men, all strangers to me, we were 
 sent outside the picket lines some five miles 
 distant. 
 
 One of the escort got very fresh with me and 
 annoyed me greatly by pulling my hair, as he 
 supposed (I was afraid he would pull my wig off 
 and expose the whole thing). He was about my 
 
54 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 size, but owing to my dress I looked much 
 smaller than he. 
 
 Finally, I got so exasperated I told him if he 
 was not armed I would give him a good punch 
 ing. In an instant he proposed to disarm and 
 fight. 
 
 The others of the guard were older men, and I 
 knew they would see fair play. After they had 
 promised to keep his gun till we were out of 
 reach I consented to fight him. 
 
 The soldiers were all eager for the fun. The 
 prisoners did not relish the proposition, for they 
 feared it might end in harm to me. 
 
 I knew that all I had to do in case the worst 
 came was to show them who I was and they 
 would not dare to do or say anything. 
 
 So we dismounted and stationed ourselves 
 some ten feet apart. He, as I expected, made a 
 wild rush, and when near me I dropped on my 
 knees with my head close to the ground and 
 butted him on the legs; he fell headlong over 
 me, bringing his face in contact with the ground 
 and stunning him. When he arose and faced 
 me I quickly placed one foot under his guard 
 against his chest and with a half push and a kick 
 sent him sprawling again on the ground. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 55 
 
 By this time all the on-lookers were convulsed 
 with laughter, and as he struck the ground the 
 second time I turned a somersault, caught the 
 horn of my saddle, sprang upon the old mare and 
 we started up the road. 
 
 The spectators were bursting their sides with 
 laughter at my opponent s defeat, and as he did 
 not care to be humiliated any more before them 
 for their amusement he did not offer to renew 
 the combat. 
 
 The escort came near taking me back to camp 
 as they felt sure I had been liberated by mistake, 
 but I told them they would be disobeying orders 
 to do that, so they let me go. 
 
 After we were released by the squad of soldiers 
 and told to move on we could hear them for some 
 distance laughing at their young comrade s 
 misfortune and saying, "No one can tell by the 
 looks of a toad how far it can jump." 
 
 We rode on some little distance in silence. At 
 last, the one who had had the least to say to me 
 and who evidently entertained some suspicions of 
 me broke the monotony by calling a halt under 
 some shade trees, and facing me squarely and 
 looking at me more carefully than before said 
 "My boy, you are not what you pretend to be, 
 
56 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 and you can go no further until I know more 
 of you." 
 
 His keen piercing eyes told me that he meant 
 it, and his actions clearly proved that he was a 
 man of importance in the enemy s ranks. 
 
 For an instant the fear that he had penetrated 
 my disguise staggered me, but I thought a 
 moment and then asked, "What do you want to 
 know about me ? I can only tell you what I know 
 about myself and I will gladly answer any and all 
 the questions you ask." 
 
 "Well, where do you live?" 
 
 " Anywhere," I replied. 
 
 "Who can you refer me to?" 
 
 "No one." 
 
 "What have you been doing for a living?" 
 
 "Oh! I have been with a circus ever since I 
 was a little boy," I answered. 
 
 That appeared to allay his suspicions for the 
 time being, for he said, "We ll take you along 
 and test your ability to convince us that you were 
 a circus boy. I almost believe that you have at 
 some time belonged to a circus since I saw you 
 lick that young Yankee." 
 
 So we proceeded on our journey. I noticed 
 that the sergeant s dog had followed us instead 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 57 
 
 of returning with the soldiers, so I got off my 
 horse and took part of my rope bridle and tied it 
 around his neck. My inquisitor noticed this in a 
 moment and asked me what I was going to do 
 with the dog. I told him, as he wanted me to 
 show my ability as a circus boy, I intended to 
 take the dog along to teach him some tricks. 
 
 We rode along until dark, when at a certain 
 point the company separated, my questioner 
 beckoning me to follow him. We went through 
 the woods, and every now and then he would 
 stop and examine the trees. I noticed there were 
 little knots tied to the limbs of the young trees, 
 and these he would carefully scrutinize. The 
 marks were just high enough to be easily seen by 
 one on horseback, indicating clearly that they 
 were intended as signs to guide those who under 
 stood them to some camp or rendezvous; this 
 afterward proved to be the case. This was the 
 secret of the rapid movement of the enemy. It 
 demonstrated how, when attacked, they would 
 scatter with no understanding to the place of 
 concentration; but the knots in those limbs, when 
 understood, told their own story. 
 
 We arrived at their place of rendezvous early 
 the next morning and I was placed under guard. 
 
rS INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 It soon got noised about that I was an 
 acrobat or circus boy of some kind, and they 
 were anxious to see me perform. 
 
 I told them as my dog would need training to 
 make the show interesting they must give me 
 more freedom in some secluded place where I 
 could put my canine assistant through his paces, 
 and that when he had been sufficiently instructed 
 I would entertain them to a finish, but that two 
 or three days time would be required to accom 
 plish this. The officers readily consented, for it 
 had become monotonous for the soldiers and 
 they were eager for fun. 
 
 So they put me and the dog in an old out 
 building, with permission to select any of the 
 boys to help me in the performance if I wished. 
 And I went to work in earnest. 
 
 In obtaining information as to the size of the 
 camp, the preparations made for its defense, 
 topography of the country surrounding it, and 
 other data, such as I desired, I was compelled to 
 use the utmost caution. A false step would have 
 been fatal; after many narrow escapes from 
 detection I thought I had sufficient information. 
 
 " Three thousand men, partly armed; plenty of 
 grit; not much food and little ammunition; no 
 
The dog that carried the despatch. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 59 
 
 regularity of arms; eight pieces of artillery made 
 from six-inch gas pipe from Mexico, banded with 
 wrought iron bands, all loaded and mounted on 
 two farm wagon wheels, and will blow up when 
 fired; breast-works across a wide flat canyon 
 made from dirt and trees, no underbrush in front. 
 Follow knots, freshly knotted, tied about twigs 
 in small limbs; leave road at a tall black snag; 
 noontime best time to attack; they are more off 
 their guard then than at night or morning. 
 
 " DOBBINS." 
 
 I returned to my quarters, wrote the facts I 
 had collected in a little note-book and tied it 
 securely around the dog s neck. I thought a 
 moment after tying it on, and I said to myself, 
 "No, I ll not send it. I ll never be the one to 
 bring our own flesh and blood in battle. They 
 are our very own, as brave and good as we 
 are and where have I met kinder and better 
 
 men." 
 
 Then the other side of the argument presented 
 itself to my mind, "Knowing the Southern 
 people as I do, should they find out who I really 
 was and that I had turned traitor to my own flag 
 by not sending the message I had vowed to send, 
 they would loathe and despise me." 
 
60 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 My duty in the matter appeared perfectly clear, 
 so after dark I took the dog and crept to the out 
 skirts of the camp, and after patting and talking 
 to him in the way dogs love, I told him to go. 
 The faithful animal seemed to comprehend what 
 was required of him and instantly disappeared in 
 the woods. Would he have sense enough to find 
 his master, the sergeant, or would he come back 
 to the camp seeking me and bearing the message 
 which, if intercepted, would mean my death? 
 Rest assured I passed an anxious night. 
 
 Owing to the change of guards the absence of 
 my dog was not noticed by them, but I -was 
 watched very closely. 
 
 The third day a lot of girls came to see me, 
 and they poked all sorts of fun at me. One ven 
 tured to ask me if I was a Yankee. I said, 
 "Yes." She said, "I thought Yankees had 
 horns." I replied/ "As a rule they have, but I 
 am a Muley." 
 
 The next night would be the night of the 
 fourth day, and I promised the show would come 
 off then. Therefore, by eleven o clock I was 
 turning handsprings and dancing to amuse them, 
 as they thought, but I had to keep up my cour 
 age, for I felt satisfied that the dog had landed 
 
i _ 
 
 Violin that was captured where Old Uncle made his 
 last charge. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 61 
 
 my note. My father would recognize my hand 
 writing, would understand the situation, and the 
 attack was liable to be made now, I thought, at 
 any moment. 
 
 I kept on dancing and now and then, for a 
 change, playing some sweet old melodies on an 
 old violin they had given me, my heart in my 
 throat, as it were. But I continued to keep up 
 my spirits, for I knew did I falter for one moment 
 and show my feelings or betray my anxiety watch 
 ing for the boys, or allow my nerves to give way, 
 my doom was sealed. But I must have amused 
 them, for the officer said, " My boy, when did 
 you ever have so much fun before?" I replied, 
 "When I had the measles." 
 
 One of them said, "Well, is your performance 
 about ready to come off?" I replied, " Not later 
 than this evening." Then noticing the absence 
 of my dog he asked where it was. I replied, 
 "That dog is a wonder; I have sent him on a 
 little run and when he returns the performance 
 will commence without delay." 
 
 I had hardly finished that sentence when, sure 
 enough, as I had anticipated (it being about 
 12:30) I heard shots from the Rebel pickets and 
 saw men running from every direction toward 
 
62 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 the fortification, and all who had been watching 
 me, including the guard, fled and left me alone. 
 
 At that instant I saw our men dash from the 
 woods directly in front of the breastworks, some 
 thousand yards distant from where I was. I at 
 once discovered them to be four companies of 
 cavalry that had been at Salt River bridge for a 
 long time, my company being one of the number. 
 
 The house in which I was quartered was almost 
 midway between the two opposing forces, just 
 off to one side, so that I could Took down the line 
 and plainly see all that was going on, as it was 
 open ground in front of the parapet. 
 
 As soon as they emerged from the woods the 
 force swung into line without a moment s delay. 
 The company I belonged to was on the right 
 and nearest to me. The first man I recognized 
 in the ranks was our old Uncle, on a black 
 charger, the finest horse in the regiment, side by 
 side with Jack, the flag-bearer. 
 
 Even at the distance which separated us I 
 could hear the shouts by the major in command, 
 " Dismount! Advance! Steady! Steady, men!" 
 It was no place for a cavalry charge, and the men 
 advanced some fifty feet ahead of their horses and 
 then halted, evidently thinking themselves well 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 63 
 
 out of rifle range of the enemy and apparently 
 awaiting reinforcements, when suddenly from the 
 protected position which the enemy held came 
 a thousands puffs of smoke and fire and the 
 deafening crash of rifle volley. 
 
 Our ranks swayed; men fell dead and wounded. 
 I sprang from my place of cover to do what I 
 could for those dear to me. 
 
 What I witnessed there in a few brief moments 
 seemed days and years of anxiety, and what I saw 
 I can only give a feeble description of in compar 
 ison to its reality. 
 
 Jack Richards, our flag-bearer, fell mortally 
 wounded. Old Uncle, hatless, with his long 
 white curly locks receding now and then from his 
 slender neck and shoulders, as the gentle breezes 
 kissed them, sprang forward like a maddened 
 tigress protecting her young, to Jack s side. Jack 
 raised his head and said, " Uncle, take my flag and 
 plant it on those breastworks." 
 
 With the fire of youth in his eyes the old man 
 grabbed the flagstaff and dashed forward. As he 
 did so he cried, Charge them, boys! Charge 
 them! The lines swayed forward. The offi 
 cers along the line sang out, " Steady men! 
 Steady!" Not a shot had as yet been fired from 
 our lines. 
 
61 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 All this time old Uncle was rushing forward, 
 under the bright noonday sun, toward the breast 
 works in front, alone, in plain view of all, every 
 man watching him with bated breath, when sud 
 denly he was seen to fall to his knees again and 
 again and then struggle to his feet with the blood 
 streaming over his long white hair; and as he 
 arose for the fourth time he made another appeal 
 to the boys for a charge. 
 
 Words are inadequate to describe what hap 
 pened when they saw one so dear to them all 
 covered with blood, pleading for a charge in lan 
 guage and tones that went straight to the heart. 
 
 A simultaneous shout went up from the officers 
 and men, "Charge! and hold your fire!" A 
 dash a cheer! and a rush of maddened men that 
 made the earth tremble. No power on earth 
 could have held them back. Onward they went, 
 dashing over the breastworks and pouring in a 
 deadly fire. 
 
 At the same instant the old man reached the 
 top of the breastworks, planted his flag, and fell 
 riddled with the enemy s bullets. 
 
 The enemy fell back badly defeated. When 
 the battle was over strong men knelt beside the 
 old man s body and wept. 
 
The battle where Uncle made his last charge. 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 65 
 
 The news that a battle was on and our com 
 pany was engaged in it spread rapidly by wire 
 and messenger and soon reached our own little 
 town, some twenty-five miles distant. 
 
 There was a flag of truce to allow both sides 
 to bury their dead. I turned my attention to a 
 boy who lay wounded a boy who had for a 
 sweetheart the loveliest and bravest girl I ever 
 knew a girl who held us in check by kind, sweet 
 words dropped from the point of her magnetic pen. 
 
 While I was in a stooping posture over our 
 poor wounded comrade I heard the clatter of 
 hoofs, and looking up I saw a horse, white with 
 foam, under full speed, coming straight toward 
 us, and a slender girl, unattended, his rider. I 
 instantly recognized her as the sweetheart of my 
 comrade, Andy Wilson. . She rendered us much 
 valuable assistance with the wounded, and the 
 next day she was furnished an escort to bear her 
 wounded charge to her home at the military post, 
 where she could nurse him back to health. 
 
 The remainder of our force took up the trail 
 of the enemy, and we tracked them by day and 
 by night when the blanket of darkness was 
 pinned up by the stars lighting Old Glory s path 
 way through the mountain forest. 
 
G6 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 On the afternoon of July 28, 1862, we fell in 
 with Lieut.-Colonel Odon Guitar, near Moore s 
 Mill, in command of 120 men, 10th Regiment 
 Missouri Militia Cavalry, and 306 men, Merrill s 
 Horse, and some of the 9th Missouri Cavalry and 
 133 men of the 3d Iowa Cavalry, under Major 
 Cadwell; also a detachment of 38 men from an 
 Independent Company of Red Rovers under 
 Captain Rice, and one section of the 3d Indiana 
 Battery with two six-pound guns and 32 men, 
 commanded by Lieutenant A. G. Armington. 
 
 We were informed by Lieut.-Colonel Odon 
 Guitar that there would be something doing very 
 soon, and to fall in line. We had scarcely gotten 
 into position when a terrific fire was poured into 
 our lines from the brush. Our men immediately 
 dismounted and returned the fire. The fierce 
 firing from the Rebel ranks swayed our lines, men 
 falling dead and wounded on all sides, and one 
 could see from the expression on the faces of the 
 officers and men that they had the gravest fears 
 of the final result. Our guns were quickly brought 
 forward and unlimbered, as the brush was too 
 thick for a cavalry charge or to permit the hand 
 ling of artillery with animals. Our guns belched 
 forth canister into the Rebel lines, checking their 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 67 
 
 fire for an instant. Then we plainly heard orders 
 given by the Rebel commander to charge our 
 guns and take them or die. Onward they came, 
 pouring volley after volley into our ranks, at the 
 same time sending forth a Rebel yell that under 
 ordinary circumstances would make the stoutest 
 heart quail. One of my comrades at my side 
 asked me at the time how many Rebels I thought 
 there were. I replied, "A million," and I spoke 
 as I felt. 
 
 To this charge, however, we shouted defiance 
 and returned volley after volley from our rifles, 
 our two guns decimating the ranks of the enemy 
 with grape and canister. Onward they came 
 with maddened frenzy. We drove them back, 
 killing fifty or sixty and wounding one hundred 
 and fifty, but not, however, until they had killed 
 and wounded a number of our gunners and many 
 of the men aiding them. At this juncture one of 
 the gunners fell, mortally wounded. A comrade 
 stooped to raise him in his arms, when he 
 shouted, " Stand by your gun my brave boy! 
 Save it or die, for here they come again. Give 
 them a double charge, my boys!" No quicker 
 said than his order was promptly obeyed. The 
 old man, raising himself to his knees, snatched 
 
G3 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 one of our flags from the ground that had been 
 trampled and torn in the former charge, and 
 waving it in the air, cheered the boys at the 
 guns. Men sprang forward from the ranks to fill 
 the places of those killed and wounded and to 
 help pull the guns through the woods. 
 
 The enemy was right upon us by this time and 
 the wounded gunner s action caused a cheer 
 around the guns which went down the line like a 
 high wind wafting fire through a dry grain field. 
 Then the old gunner begged to be carried to his 
 gun, and Lieutenant A. G. Armington, who was 
 in charge of the battery and who had noticed his 
 daring and the work he had done, gave an order 
 and he was raised by four stalwart men on an 
 improvised blanket litter and carried forward. 
 "Give them a double charge!" the old gunner 
 again called, as they raised him up. A simulta 
 neous shout went up from the officers and men 
 to charge, and the whole line dashed forward like 
 a shot from a gun and bore down on the enemy 
 in maddened fury. The gun that the wounded 
 man had charge of was pulled through the woods 
 by hand at such a rapid pace that the other piece 
 was distanced in the dash. The dying gunner 
 was carried forward on his litter, his life-blood 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 69 
 
 oozing through the blanket on which he was 
 carried. At every step he urged his com 
 rades forward ; he made them fighting demons. 
 They were stripped to the waist and bareheaded 
 and bent to their duty with the strength of 
 giants, and a cheer went up that rent the air 
 above the cannon s roar for this gallant little 
 Indiana Battery. The contagious cheer went 
 down the line like an electric current and we 
 drove the enemy, thrice our number, back like 
 chaff before the wind. The officers were even 
 more daring than the men and would have led 
 their troops through Hell. 
 
 On reaching the brow of the hill we discovered 
 that a portion of the enemy had made a stand in 
 an old tobacco barn. "Give them a solid shot," 
 the old gunner again cried out; but the shot fell 
 short. It was then the old hero breathed his 
 last, and while a few brave men stood with bowed 
 heads over the lifeless form of the brave old gun 
 ner, Pat Connolly (I do not remember the com 
 pany to which he belonged, but I think it was the 
 Red Rover), who had had some practice with 
 artillery, sprang forward and elevating the muzzle 
 of the six-pounder, sent a solid ball through the 
 top of the building, tearing away portions of the 
 
70 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 partly decayed roof timbers and shakes of the 
 barn and throwing them down on the heads of 
 the enemy, putting them to flight. As he saw 
 the effect of his shot he yelled, " Hurrah for old 
 Ireland!" This was another signal for a cheer 
 and a dash; the officers ordered another charge 
 and the boys rushed down the valley after them 
 in hot pursuit, firing charge upon charge after 
 the fleeing enemy. 
 
 When the sun kissed the sky above us good- 
 day and settled down in the western horizon, and 
 night came on and began to shed her tears on 
 the beautiful foliage of the forest, our bugle called 
 us back to care for our dead and wounded. 
 
 The next morning, while the sun was drying 
 up the tears night had shed on the dimpled 
 cheeks of the wild rosebud, the fallen heroes, 
 both the blue and the gray, were laid to rest near 
 the spot where they made their last gallant 
 charge. Then we fell into line and turned our 
 faces toward our post quarters with a heavy heart, 
 carrying our wounded with us. 
 
 We took part in other skirmishes and battles 
 but none that presents the pathos of those I have 
 described; therefore I will pass to the close of the 
 historic struggle. When those whom Divine 
 
CIVIL WAR IN MISSOURI 71 
 
 Providence had saved gathered around their fire 
 sides with their loved ones their thoughts often 
 reverted to those who had been buried on the 
 field of battle. 
 
 We had many reunions of those near-by, one 
 of which I will long remember. It was on 
 Christmas Eve of 1865, w r hen the laughing full 
 moon shone brightly down on the snow-covered 
 earth and sleighs slipped over the white-crusted 
 ground, driven by horses prancing to the merry 
 jingle of the bells which encircled their necks, 
 and pulled up in a swift trot in front of a substan 
 tial, old-fashioned farmhouse nestled among a 
 little grove of native walnut and oak trees, where 
 we had all been requested to be present without 
 fail and told we would be informed on our 
 arrival the object of this reunion. Our company, 
 however, was pretty well scattered by this time, 
 some of them living many miles away, but none 
 of the officers we held most dear were within 
 reach that we knew of. 
 
 Myself and a few others being late and fearing 
 that we would miss some of the fun that might 
 be going on, as our gatherings were always very 
 jolly, we sprang from our sleighs and rushed into 
 the house. To our surprise the first to grasp our 
 
72 INCIDENTS OF THE 
 
 hands was our dear old brave captain, and the 
 next was Roberson, the cuss who gave us so 
 much notoriety over the horse deal he figured in 
 in Mexico. His hearty handshake carried me 
 back to other evenings around our camp-fire 
 where he often entertained us with his ready wit 
 and songs. This pleasant surprise suggested to 
 us at once the reason we were requested to come, 
 but it transpired a little later in the evening that 
 there was another and still greater surprise in 
 store for us. The secret had been zealously 
 guarded until the final moment, when Andy Wil 
 son, our wounded comrade, and the dear, brave 
 girl who took a wild ride of twenty-five miles on 
 horseback to the battle-field where old Uncle 
 made his last gallant charge, stepped to the cen 
 ter of the room and were joined in holy wedlock 
 by our army chaplain. The bride looked as sweet 
 and womanly as she did the day we saw her on 
 the battle-field caring for the wounded, and we 
 all stood with bowed heads in silent prayer for the 
 future of those two young people whom we all 
 loved and honored. 
 
THE STORY OF A BLOOD-STAINED 
 POEM 
 
 In the year 1899, in the city of San Francisco, 
 when a number of our Eastern regiments of Vol 
 unteers returned from Manila, everybody was on 
 the qui vive to welcome them because they were 
 j-.ist as dear to us as our California men who went 
 to the Philippines. 
 
 The arrival of a transport loaded with troops 
 was always heralded by the tooting of whistles 
 and firing of guns. By the time the vessel had 
 reached the dock the entire city had turned out 
 en masse to honor the returning heroes. The 
 soldiers marched through the streets with pale 
 and haggard faces, followed by their ambulances 
 loaded with the sick and wounded, their flag- 
 bearer holding on high the stars and stripes, 
 tattered and torn by coming in contact with the 
 shot and shell from the enemy s lines. 
 
 (73) 
 
74 THE STORY OF A 
 
 Many a pathetic scene was witnessed on that 
 line of march through the city to the Presidio 
 grounds, where they were to be encamped. 
 
 Mothers, sisters and sweethearts who had come 
 from the East to meet those dear to them waited 
 patiently on the sidewalks, watching for some 
 familiar face as the troops marched by, and now 
 and then one could see someone dart from the 
 sidewalk into the ranks and be clasped in the 
 arms of some marching soldier, as tender and gal 
 lant as he was brave and daring in the battles in 
 which he had fought, and the women marched 
 proudly side by side with their heroes. Some, 
 however, watched in vain and turned away with 
 a sigh as the last trooper had passed them by. 
 Some loved ones had been brought back on the 
 same steamer cold in death, others laid to rest on 
 the field of battle. 
 
 I frequently went out to the Presidio to see 
 the men and hear them talk of the Filipinos. 
 Many of the soldiers had boxes which they had 
 brought from Manila, filled with trinkets and war 
 mementoes of all kinds. Some gave them away 
 to friends. One day I came across a poor fellow 
 who said he had no friends to give his trinkets 
 to, and as he was sick and in need of money he 
 would like to sell his box. 
 
BLOOD-STAINED POEM 75 
 
 I did not look through it, but asked what he 
 would take for it. He named the price; I handed 
 him the money and went away with the little box 
 under my arm. 
 
 I doubt if he knew the contents ; I am sure I 
 did not. I never asked his name, and if I knew 
 his regiment or company I have forgotten it. 
 
 I was called away from the city the next morn 
 ing and did not return for several weeks, and my 
 recent purchase passed completely out of my 
 mind. 
 
 Upon my return I decided to change my place 
 of residence, when, in packing and unpacking, I 
 came across this box. I remembered that I had 
 never examined its contents, so I opened it and 
 took out several little trinkets of such small 
 value that I laid them aside. When I reached 
 the bottom of the box, I found a torn, dirty and 
 blood-stained poem, written in pencil, its condi 
 tion plainly indicating that it had been picked up 
 from some battle-field, tossed into the box and 
 forgotten. 
 
 I doubt if the one who had sold the box knew 
 of its existence. It may have been given to him 
 by some poor fellow who was never to see his 
 native land again. 
 
76 THE STORY OF A 
 
 It must have been written under fire, as it had 
 every appearance of being picked up out of the 
 dirt and been trampled upon by no one knows 
 how many feet. 
 
 I present you with a facsimile of the original, 
 except that it is reduced in size to conform with 
 the pages of this book. 
 
 Were these loving memories of home stained 
 with the blood of some gallant old Northern 
 veteran of the Civil War, or his son; or was it 
 some daring, brave old veteran of the South, or 
 his son? Both marched side by side with Old 
 Glory to Cuba and the Philippines, in answer to 
 our country s call in the war with Spain, carrying 
 everything before them, adding to our nation s 
 wealth in commerce and history, and at the same 
 time showing plainly that the wound of the Civil 
 War was healed over. Will not the people of this 
 great nation remove the scar by seeing that the 
 old white-haired Southern veterans of 61 to 65, 
 who helped to make history then as now, are 
 provided for in old age? 
 
. 
 ; fttfv^f vrn&h Ifc 
 
 Copy of blood-stained poei 
 
A STORY OF THE MINES 
 
 A few years ago I got the mining fever. I 
 knew nothing of mining, or did I know the best 
 place to go to become initiated in the business. 
 
 One day, while in conversation with one of my 
 business associates by the name of Mr. Garland, 
 he happened to mention incidentally that a friend 
 of his was in a mining camp on the southern 
 slope of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Cali 
 fornia. 
 
 "Why!" I said, "that is just what I have been 
 looking for. I m thinking about going mining 
 myself. Who is he?" 
 
 He said he was a Mr. West, and that if I 
 would .like to go into mining he d write a letter 
 to him and make inquiries for me, as Mr. West 
 was an experienced miner and a jolly good 
 fellow as well. 
 
 (77) 
 
78 A STORY OF 
 
 I was overjoyed at this piece of good news. 
 Mr. Garland wrote to his friend and in four or 
 five days I received a reply from him to come at 
 once; that he had read Mr. Garland s letter to 
 all the boys in town Saturday night, and they 
 would be delighted to have a newcomer in their 
 camp. He would expect me one week from that 
 time. He said, "We will have a rig in waiting 
 at the railroad station to meet the train arriving 
 at three o clock P. M. to drive you over a pretty 
 rough road, but the thing I shall send will land 
 you in our little camp by the time all the boys 
 get in and I ll introduce you to them. You see, 
 you must be one of them if you are after pointers, 
 as I understand, and we are willing to take a 
 tenderfoot under our wing and have the honor of 
 breaking, yes! b-r-e-a-k-i-n-g you in." 
 
 I arrived at the mountain station on time, and 
 darned if the fellow who was to drive me didn t 
 just walk right up and spot me in the 
 crowd. 
 
 I walked about one hundred yards to where 
 there were several teams tied, and being a little 
 ahead of my escort I went directly up to a 
 splendid double team of blacks and began to 
 deposit my luggage. 
 
THE MINES 79 
 
 "Hold on," my driver shouted, "that s not my 
 rig," and then, pointing so unsteadily as led me 
 to believe he had indulged in something stronger 
 than pure mountain water, and indicating a 
 dilapidated cart to which was attached a sleepy- 
 looking mule, said, "This is our turn-out." 
 "Why!" I exclaimed, "this looks like an old 
 blind mule that I met in the army in 1862." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "I knew he was an old 
 veteran of some kind." "But," I asked, "can 
 this old mule and cart take us over the rough 
 road Mr. West wrote me about?" 
 
 "Well," he drawled, "it will surely get there if 
 it doesn t go over the grade with us or nothing 
 else happens." 
 
 So we mounted the cart and started at once, 
 I somewhat doubtfully, it must be confessed, but 
 the driver apparently full of confidence in him 
 self and his antiquated rig. 
 
 The road was a typical mountain highway, in 
 many places cut into the solid rock and barely 
 wide enough to admit the passage of the cart, 
 while on the outside the face of the cliffs fell 
 away in sheer precipices of unknown depth. I 
 will not deny that on more than one occasion 
 after we had safely passed such a place I found 
 
80 A STORY OF 
 
 my hand convulsively clutching the side of the 
 cart seat, while the perspiration stood in beads 
 on my face. The cheerful driver punctuated the 
 journey with encouraging remarks as to the 
 probabilities of going over the edge and dilated 
 upon the number of accidents which had hap 
 pened, and how the remains looked when fished 
 out of the depths that is, those of the victims 
 who were ever found. 
 
 But as Mr. West had predicted, the thing he 
 sent took me through all right, and we arrived 
 at the hotel just about dark. It was a pleasant 
 old-fashioned inn, with a sign on the post to 
 direct the weary to a place of rest and refreshment. 
 
 The inn was managed by two old people, man 
 and wife, types of the sturdy stock that never 
 lost sight of a business point. The good wife 
 attended to the inn while the husband busied 
 himself in entertaining his guests. Mr. West 
 was standing on the porch and his cordial greeting 
 made me feel at home at once. 
 
 He was a large, well-proportioned man, genial 
 and affable, in a good old rough and ready way ; 
 his pleasant countenance and a merry twinkle in 
 his eye indicated plainly he was everything my 
 friend Garland said. 
 
Mountain village. 
 
THE MINES 81 
 
 After supper we strolled down a narrow street 
 with business houses on both sides, and at either 
 end of which, dotted here and there, were cabins 
 and cosy little cottages belonging to the miners 
 and their families. 
 
 These camps or little towns are very picturesque, 
 generally located near one or two good mines, 
 and are the basis of supplies for miners and 
 prospectors for a radius of from fifteen to twenty 
 miles around. After walking the length of the 
 short street we dropped into a saloon and billiard 
 hall, and there I was introduced to at least thirty 
 or forty miners. 
 
 Glancing over the little group I saw they were 
 all sturdy, strong, healthy looking men with good 
 honest faces. I was very favorably impressed by 
 the cordial greeting they gave me, their manners 
 indicating plainly they had more joy in their 
 mountain homes than sorrow. 
 
 This billiard hall was a very nice place of its 
 kind and appeared to be their favorite resort. 
 
 Mr. West and myself were leaning against the 
 counter of the bar. He had been telling what he 
 thought was a pretty good yarn, and after he had 
 finished I thought it was only proper for me to 
 tell one, so I proceeded and had hardly got 
 
 UNIVER, 
 
82 A STORY OF 
 
 into the story when I noticed a tall, mischievous 
 looking fellow go behind the counter and pour 
 out two large glasses of cold water, one of which 
 he placed in front of me and the other before 
 Mr. West. I picked up my glass and drank the 
 water, for I was thirsty. I noticed Mr. West s 
 countenance change and I asked him what was 
 the matter. He whispered to me that the boys 
 feared we would get dry and talk ourselves to 
 death. As I was not a drinking man I had not 
 set up the drinks, as they called it, so I took the 
 hint and called all hands up. They all drank, 
 took their seats again and requested me to go on 
 with my story. 
 
 I had not gone far when I looked around to 
 note the effect of my recital, and I saw they were 
 all sitting cross-legged and working their feet up 
 and down. Not knowing exactly what to think 
 of these strange actions I paused and asked, 
 "What on earth is the matter? 1 
 
 They replied, " Oh, nothing; go on, it s only a 
 habit we have." So I went on telling my yarn, 
 thinking they were interested, and I soon caught 
 them again at the same thing. 
 
 At this juncture my friend West, who had 
 excused himself a few minutes previously, came 
 
THE MINES 83 
 
 in and I whispered to him, " Say, West, are all 
 those fellows string-halt that makes them lift their 
 legs up and down?" " No," he replied. 
 
 "Then, what in the name of Heaven is the 
 matter?" West cast his eyes over the foot-swing 
 ing crowd, cleared his throat and said, " My dear 
 boy, that story was told here in 1849, and they 
 get so dry listening to those old yarns all these 
 years that they have to do that to make their 
 blood circulate." 
 
 I set them up again and charged eight dollars 
 and a half to expenses. 
 
 The next day was Sunday and the sun poured 
 its bright rays on the vine-covered porch of the 
 hotel. The landlord, a drummer and myself were 
 seated engaged in casual conversation. I had 
 already been informed that the landlord could and 
 would tell yarns, whenever he could get anybody 
 to listen, which were so vivid that you could 
 almost imagine bears or snakes were near you. 
 On this occasion it was a snake yarn. 
 
 He told the drummer that snakes always went 
 in pairs and when he first came there (not stating 
 how many years ago) he actually killed a snake 
 on that very spot eighteen inches in diameter and 
 thirty-six feet long, and he had been looking for 
 
84 A STORY OF 
 
 its mate ever since. The drummer moved his 
 chair uneasily and looked around. He was very 
 nervous, it evidently being his first trip to the 
 mountains. His movements showed plainly that 
 he wanted to get away; but the old man told him 
 to hold on, that he had only one more story to 
 tell. 
 
 I will confess I was somewhat shaky, because 
 a snake of such immense proportions eighteen 
 inches in diameter and thirty-six feet long was a 
 pretty good-sized snake, Eh? 
 
 I thought I d go down to the saloon where all 
 the men were and find out if any of them had 
 heard about old Young s snake yarn. If not I d 
 tell it. They all claimed not to have heard it so 
 I proceeded with the narration. My back was 
 turned toward the door. I said, "Boys, did you 
 know that Mr. Young had killed a snake right 
 where his house stands, thirty-six inches in diam 
 eter and seventy-two feet long, and expects its 
 mate at any time?" In a moment I was seized 
 from behind. I jumped, faced about, and there 
 stood Mr. Young. He said, " Here, you, you tell 
 an untruth." I said, "Beg pardon, Mr. Young, 
 what about?" "I listened to you just now lying 
 about me and I won t stand it. The snake, I 
 
THE MINES 85 
 
 said, was eighteen inches in diameter and thirty- 
 six feet long, and you lied about it when you 
 doubled it. You know the one I killed was fairly 
 good size, any way." 
 
 When he finished I said, " Mr. Young, I offer 
 you an apology for the offense, and will try in 
 future to quote more accurately in case I think 
 it safe to do so." 
 
 During the next two or three days I visited 
 some of the mines near-by, and was particularly 
 interested in a drift mine just about half a mile 
 east of the town, where my friend, Mr. West, was 
 superintendent. 
 
 A drift mine is a tunnel run into a hill where 
 there have been ancient channels. The gravel 
 beds in these channels are from ten to four hun 
 dred feet wide, and the depth of gravel varies 
 from six inches to twenty feet. Some channels 
 contain what is called free gravel, from the fact 
 that it is not cemented and the gold is easily sep 
 arated from it. 
 
 Gravel that is cemented is usually crushed in a 
 stamp mill using from thirty to forty mesh screen. 
 
 The hydraulic mining is very interesting, and 
 in this one claim I examined they had immense 
 giants throwing streams of water with terrific 
 
86 A STORY OF 
 
 force two or three hundred feet against the gravel 
 bank, washing it into the bed-rock sluices. 
 
 As I walked over some four or five acres of 
 bed-rock that had been washed off I saw about 
 forty or fifty men with picks and shovels picking 
 up the soft bed-rock and shoveling it into little 
 sluices running here and there. In this rock 
 large quantities of coarse gold were found every 
 day, which the men would lay in little piles here 
 and there on flat rock; and I have seen many 
 rough slugs one inch thick and two to eight 
 inches long, and the totals from this source alone 
 sometimes amounted to thousands of dollars per 
 day. 
 
 Every evening some one would go around with 
 a bucket to gather up the accumulations. 
 
 I think it was the fourth day after my arrival 
 in town that I was informed that they were in the 
 habit of having chicken suppers now and then at 
 the hotel or inn, intended for social affairs, each 
 man paying his share for everything except the 
 chickens. As nearly every one there had poultry 
 of their own they would take turns in donating 
 them. One of these suppers was to occur the 
 next evening. Early in the morning Mr. West 
 took me out some distance from the hotel and 
 
THE MINES 87 
 
 showed me a lot that was fenced in, with a large 
 number of chickens in it which he said belonged 
 to him, remarking that as the landlord and his 
 wife had some guests whom he was going to 
 show through his mines that afternoon he would 
 not have time to kill the fowls, so if I did not 
 object it would be conferring a great favor upon 
 him if I would kill them for him and have them 
 ready to cook upon the landlady s return. 
 
 They started out about two o clock p. M. for the 
 mine. I proceeded at once to kill the chickens 
 and when I had finished with twenty-four of the 
 finest fowl I ever saw I took them over to the 
 hotel and piled them up in the kitchen. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the party returned from 
 the mine. As by natural right, the landlady s 
 first move was to enter the sacred precincts of 
 the kitchen. Horror of horrors! two dozen of 
 her best Leghorns, cold in death, was the sight 
 which met her astonished gaze. To say there 
 was something doing right then and there would 
 be putting it very mildly. 
 
 She sent down town for me to come up at 
 once, and in a fury of indignation wanted to 
 know what I meant by killing her chickens. I 
 tried to explain matters, but my efforts were futile; 
 
88 A STORY OF 
 
 she would not listen, but demanded twenty-four 
 dollars without delay. I paid it, charged it up to 
 expenses, and told her to go ahead with her 
 supper and say nothing. 
 
 I wrote that evening to my friend Mr. Garland 
 in San Francisco, telling him how he had dis 
 tinguished himself in that locality at my expense. 
 Then I communed with myself about the unholy 
 things I could do to my good friend Mr. West. I 
 concluded to do nothing just then but to await my 
 opportunity. It came one day about two weeks 
 after. 
 
 It was the custom of the miners to congregate 
 in the village on Saturday afternoons for the 
 purpose of laying in a week s supplies, and 
 perhaps also to indulge in a little friendly gossip 
 with the neighbors, and upon this particular 
 day the main business street was, as usual, 
 crowded. 
 
 I was standing near the center of the street 
 talking to a couple of ladies when a double team, 
 whose occupants were two dust-covered men, 
 drove rapidly by and drew up before a livery 
 stable. As it passed one of the men shouted, 
 "Hello, Harvey! up to one of your old tricks? 
 Eh! 1 
 
THE MINES 
 
 The unexpected salutation was somewhat 
 embarrassing, and after a moment I excused 
 myself to the ladies and went over to the livery 
 stable to discover the identity of the individual 
 whose free and easy manners had placed me in a 
 slightly awkward position. Naturally I began 
 wondering what else I had run up against in the 
 way of practical jokes. 
 
 As I arrived at the stable door the gentlemen 
 met me ; one was a stranger and the other a dear 
 old friend of mine, a Mr. Wheaton. He was a 
 medium-sized man, full of ready wit and humor 
 and one who never lost an opportunity for 
 innocent fun and amusement, a general favorite 
 and a good business man. 
 
 I had not seen him for several years. In fact, 
 had lost track of him entirely. Our meeting in 
 this out-of-the-way place was a surprise to both 
 of us. My anger was at once mollified, as he was 
 one of those genial jolly fellows who had to have 
 his fun even at the expense of his friends. I 
 thought to myself I m going to have a pretty 
 hard time with Mr. Wheaton and Mr. West 
 together; but I made up my mind they would 
 not get me into any rackets and that I d keep 
 out of their way. Then I began to wonder if 
 
90 A STORY OF 
 
 Mr. Wheaton knew this man West and what 
 possible business could have brought him to this 
 mining camp, and that I must manage somehow 
 to even up the old scores upon them both. 
 
 As we walked along to the hotel Mr. Wheaton 
 said he would like to have a private room. He 
 remarked that he was glad to meet me there, as 
 he did not know anyone on the divide. (I said 
 to myself, "I m glad you don t.") When we 
 were comfortably settled in his room he grew 
 confidential and asked me if I was acquainted 
 with Mr. West. I told him I was. Then the 
 cause of his visit came out. "Now, see here, 
 he said, "I m superintendent of the North Bloom- 
 field Mines and we have struck cement ground. 
 I understand that this man West is superin 
 tendent of a mine that has the latest machinery 
 for working cement gravel, and I know if any 
 man can get me in to see that machinery you 
 can. At any rate you may be able to give me 
 pointers ; you know how they are about strangers 
 coming around." 
 
 I replied, "I know Mr. West; I can give you 
 pointers, but I cannot for obvious reasons intro 
 duce you. I had a little trouble a few days after 
 my arrival that I could have averted had I been 
 
THE MINES 91 
 
 as well posted as I am able to post you at the 
 present time." The possibilities of a great 
 scheme, whereby I might pay off my score to 
 both these worthies came over me and I waxed 
 eloquent. 
 
 " Now, look here, Wheaton, what I am about 
 to say to you must be strictly confidential. If it 
 gets out here it will ruin me, as I expect to stay, 
 while you ll be off in a few days and it can t affect 
 you in any way, shape or manner. 
 
 " In the first place, as you are superintendent 
 of the North Bloomfield Mines, he has probably 
 heard of you in some way and if you become 
 known to him as Mr. Wheaton your name will be 
 mud as far as getting into the mine is con 
 cerned. It would be better for you to go over 
 there under the name of Smith or Jones, looking 
 for work; but what will interest you most now, 
 Wheaton., is this: 
 
 " Mr. West is one of the best miners in this 
 section, but every month or two he has a little 
 crazy spell. It don t last long. Those who 
 know him well can handle him all right. I struck 
 him in one of these spells when I first came here. 
 There was no one to give me pointers, so I had 
 trouble. 
 
92 A STOkY OF 
 
 "You go over to the mines about three o clock 
 in the afternoon. You will be most likely to find 
 him around the mill at that time. If he has a 
 great meerschaum pipe in his mouth, and when 
 ever he takes it out one corner of his mouth tries 
 to go to his ear and his eyes roll around in a 
 manner not very inviting, that s a sure sign that 
 a spell is coming on. You may possibly come in 
 contact with him while in one of these moods, as 
 it is full moon and about time for him to have a 
 spell. But the moment that he shows these 
 symptoms place yourself directly in front of him, 
 close to him, and point your forefinger right 
 straight at him and look him right in the eyes, 
 holding your finger there until his mouth goes 
 back to its normal position. If the corner of his 
 mouth starts up again, or as many times as it 
 does, place your finger right close to his nose and 
 look him straight into the eyes until the spell is 
 broken. 
 
 " I have a fine field-glass, and by standing in 
 the telephone room of the drug store I can 
 plainly see everything going on around the mine, 
 and should you get into serious trouble you make 
 for town and I will have someone meet you who 
 can handle him." 
 
THE MINES 93 
 
 " By Jove ! " Wheaton remarked to his friend, 
 "that s a pretty risky thing, ain t it?" 
 
 His friend replied that managing cases of mild 
 insanity in a quiet way had been successful in 
 many institutions, and as it was a matter of great 
 importance to them to obtain the information 
 which they were seeking he was willing to risk it. 
 
 So, shortly before three o clock that afternoon 
 they started for the mine, while I posted myself 
 behind the field-glass to await developments. 
 
 Some thirty feet from the mill, at the mouth of 
 the tunnel, a large log, hewn flat, had been placed 
 as a foot-bridge across a stream of water. Just as 
 our friends had crossed on this foot-bridge they 
 met West face to face. Before they had time to 
 tell their names or their business there, out came 
 the meerschaum pipe, and up went the corner of 
 West s mouth, while his eyes commenced to roll 
 around as is sometimes the case with an inveter 
 ate smoker. In an instant two fingers were 
 placed almost against his nose, and two pairs of 
 eyes were staring at him like madmen s. West 
 was a quick-tempered man, and not believing 
 they were after any good he grabbed up a pick- 
 handle lying by, and advanced upon them in a 
 threatening manner. 
 
94 A STORY OF 
 
 Believing that they unquestionably had a luna 
 tic to deal with, they wheeled around and beat a 
 hasty retreat over the foot-bridge. Wheaton s 
 friend was in the lead and crossed safely over, 
 but Wheaton himself was not so fortunate. In 
 his haste his foot slipped and he went off into the 
 water, which at that place was about eight feet 
 deep and forty feet wide. West s hostile attitude 
 vanished when he found his enemy was likely to 
 drown, and fearing he would be blamed for it, he 
 promptly dropped his pick-handle and plunged in 
 after him. 
 
 At this, Wheaton s friend shouted at the top of 
 his voice, "Swim for your life, Wheaton, he s 
 after you." West managed to get the water out 
 of his mouth, and sputtered, "What! Is this 
 Wheaton of North Bloomfield?" 
 
 They both reached the bank about the same 
 time, pretty well water-logged, and standing in 
 their dripping garments, they proceeded to intro 
 duce themselves to each other. 
 
 West was the first to speak: "Are you Mr. 
 Wheaton, of the North Bloomfield Mine?" 
 
 Wheaton replied that he was. "Well, Mr. 
 Wheaton, what does this mean?" "Well, I want 
 to ask you what it means?" West shook his 
 
THE MINES 95 
 
 head sadly and said, "Well, Mr. Wheaton, do 
 you know anyone in our camp by the name of 
 Argyle ? Perhaps that acquaintance may account 
 for the present catastrophe." 
 
 Mr. Wheaton s reply was, "Yes, I m sorry to 
 say I do." All this time I was observing the 
 whole proceedings with my glass, and as I saw 
 them advance toward the office of the mine I 
 rang up the telephone. I could hear their laugh 
 ter as they opened the telephone, and Wheaton 
 remarked to West that he had better fix it up 
 with me in some way in order to keep the story 
 from leaking out. 
 
 I said, "Hello, West! anything doing down 
 there?" "Nothing now," he replied, "There 
 has been something doing; I suppose you saw 
 it all, confound you. Now, on what conditions 
 can we surrender and have this thing kept a 
 secret?" 
 
 "Well, I ll tell you, West; I have twenty-four 
 dollars charged up for chickens and eight dollars 
 and fifty cents for the drinks, and if you and 
 Wheaton will square that up and give a good lay 
 out to all the miners within fifteen miles of here 
 I ll say nothing for two years, otherwise I ll send 
 my report to the press to-morrow." 
 
96 A STORY OF 
 
 " Well," Wheaton said, "make out your bill and 
 order refreshments at once; two years secrecy 
 goes." It is not necessary to say that he saw the 
 mines. 
 
 I went to work at once, engaged the town hall 
 and a string band, ordered supper to be prepared 
 by the two hotels of the place for two hundred 
 guests and selected two well-known business 
 men of the camp to send out invitations for 
 the miners and their wives to attend a ball and 
 supper on the coming Saturday night. 
 
 This somewhat elaborate programme was duly 
 carried out and I got the credit for giving one 
 of the most enjoyable affairs they had had there 
 for a long time. During the course of the 
 evening I became acquainted with miners and 
 prospectors who had come in from the surrounding 
 country and with whom I had not before come 
 in contact. 
 
 Among the number was an interesting indi 
 vidual by the name of Campbell, who gave me a 
 cordial invitation to visit his place, some thirty 
 miles distant. He gave me full directions as to 
 the route, stating that I would pass a number 
 of mines, would go through a beautiful forest 
 of yellow and sugar pines, by a saw-mill where 
 
My guides in the forest of timber. 
 
THE MINES 97 
 
 lumber was cut for the miners, and that the 
 place next to that, some five miles beyond, was 
 his place. "You can t miss it; nobody ever did 
 miss Old Campbell s place, and I don t see why 
 you should with the directions I have given 
 you. Be sure to come, for you can t see much 
 around this camp and I want you to see our 
 Queen of the Forest." This last expression 
 piqued my curiosity but I had no time to ask him 
 to explain and dismissed the subject with the 
 impression that he must have referred to the 
 fine body of timber of which he had previously 
 spoken. I thanked him for his invitation and 
 telling him that I would surely come we set the 
 date of the proposed visit about thirty days hence. 
 
 It was now about mid-summer. Some four or 
 five days after receiving the invitation from Mr. 
 Campbell, allowing myself time to pay numerous 
 visits to other friends and also with the intention 
 of doing some prospecting on the journey, I pro 
 cured an expert, hired men and tools and started 
 for Mr. Campbell s place. 
 
 There were many interesting places to be seen 
 on the road and not the least among them were 
 some prosperous little mines of gravel and quartz, 
 the existence of which the public were totally 
 ignorant. 
 
98 A STORY OF 
 
 We derived great pleasure from visiting the 
 miners in their homes. For the most part the 
 houses were nothing to boast of, but they were 
 comfortably furnished, and evidently the seat of 
 happiness and contentment. They were generally 
 ensconced in a perfect bower of flower gardens, 
 and it was a great surprise to me to learn that 
 fruits and vegetables of the finest varieties were 
 raised at an elevation of from three to five thou 
 sand feet above sea level. 
 
 We stayed over night at two or three mountain 
 homes by invitation, and all the neighbors came 
 in to spend the evening. Their cordial greetings 
 and their solicitous attentions to each other car 
 ried me back to rural days when people lived 
 more for each other than they do at the present 
 time. The sturdy miners were there with their 
 violins, and their brawny hands wielded the bow 
 with such dexterity that an audience of any first- 
 class theatre would have encored them. 
 
 We prospected a number of big quartz and 
 prophyry ledges of low-grade ore that would yield 
 handsome profits if worked on a large scale with 
 the latest methods of working such ore. 
 
 We also crossed a number of lava-capped 
 ridges that held tightly in their grasp ancient 
 
THE MINES 99 
 
 river channels, defying the man with moderate 
 means to try to rob them of their golden treasure. 
 And yet the miners would be tempted by old 
 Dame Nature throwing out on the rim rock little 
 patches of gravel here and there from the depths 
 of old blue lead to lure them on, as one could see 
 from the numerous drifts and tunnels that have 
 been run into the mountains by men with more 
 ambition than money. The little pay streaks in 
 the rim gravel would play hide-and-seek with the 
 prospector by giving up to him now and then 
 some of its treasure and then darting back to the 
 bottom from where it came, out of his reach, 
 there to remain until the miner would be rein 
 forced with sufficient capital to penetrate its depths. 
 
 Many good claims lay yet undeveloped owing 
 to the fact that most of the rich old blue leads 
 require bed-rock tunnels run from two to ten 
 thousand yards long to reach the bottom of the 
 channel and have drainage for the water. 
 
 There is an old saying that "bad news travels 
 faster than good news"; that is the reason one 
 hears of many mines which have failed and ruined 
 all connected with them. Nevertheless there are 
 hundreds of paying mines where the owners have 
 good reasons for not telling what the output is. 
 
100 A STORY OF 
 
 In passing through the timber forest before 
 referred to I saw that sugir and yellow pine 
 largely predominated and that the trees were 
 very large and tall. It was a common sight to 
 see a mighty trunk rising straight up into the air 
 to a height of one hundred and fifty feet before 
 the first branch shot out from it. 
 
 We finally arrived at the saw-mill, and after 
 remaining there a day and night, left early on the 
 second morning and arrived at Campbell s place 
 promptly at the appointed time. 
 
 I found a good substantial loghouse which 
 many years before had been constructed as a 
 store and living-house by hunters and trappers. 
 I was greeted with a hearty welcome and pro 
 ceeded at once to make myself at home. I 
 noticed Mr. Campbell had just finished dressing 
 a good-sized deer and was cutting some off for 
 supper. 
 
 After the evening meal, in which the delicious 
 venison played a prominent part, we sat talking 
 about everything in general, and presently the 
 miners and prospectors began to drop in by twos 
 and threes to hear the news and discuss the 
 happenings of the day until ten or fifteen of them 
 were gathered beneath the hospitable roof. 
 
Old Campbell s place. 
 
THE MINES 101 
 
 I preferred to listen rather than talk, for I soon 
 observed that many of them were well-informed 
 men who had seen much of the glitter of the 
 outside world in their younger days. They were 
 interesting to me because they were so natural; 
 they seemed to live so near to Nature ; they were 
 ideals of real manhood. They asked of one 
 another if they had lately heard or seen anything 
 of this man or that man, calling them by name, 
 whom they knew to be alone in the mountains 
 prospecting, and it was suggested that if noth 
 ing was heard of them by the next day they 
 must get together and go out and see if anything 
 had happened to them. I thought how few 
 there are who have that whole-souled feeling for 
 their fellowmen. 
 
 I judge it was about nine o clock in the even 
 ing when I was startled by hearing a woman s 
 voice raised in song, accompanied by the gentle 
 touch of her finger-tips upon the strings of a 
 guitar. 
 
 The effect upon the men was electrical. Con 
 versation ceased at once; their hats, which for 
 the most part had remained upon their heads, 
 now found new resting-places, and many rose to 
 their feet. The door presently opened and a 
 
102 A STORY OF 
 
 beautiful woman entered. After cordially greet 
 ing the old miners and thanking them for their 
 many kindnesses and inquiring after the absent 
 ones, she was introduced to me as their "Forest 
 Queen." 
 
 After she bade us good -night I learned from 
 Mr. Campbell the story of an old abandoned 
 mine and of the girl who was now known far and 
 wide as the " Forest Queen." 
 
 " Many years ago," he said, " I was running a 
 kind of trading-post here at this very place for 
 a few miners, trappers and hunters on the creek. 
 I had some traps set away up in the mountains, 
 some fifteen miles from here over the ridge. 
 
 "You see in winter time, when there has been 
 a good hard snow, we think nothing of a fifteen 
 or twenty-mile run on snowshoes. I had not 
 been to my traps for a long time, on account of a 
 heavy storm, and the weather being good and the 
 snow settled, I provisioned myself for two or 
 three days and started out. On arriving at the 
 top of the ridge I noticed a bear making down 
 the other side toward a deep canyon, and I fol 
 lowed, pursuing him very closely. 
 
 " The snow being hard, he was able to evade 
 me by dodging here and there in the thick brush, 
 
Sawmill. 
 
,RAFTP% 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
THE MINES 103 
 
 so I was not able to get a good shot at him. You 
 see, it is necessary to be sure of a shot at a bear 
 when alone. I desired to get close to him and in 
 clear ground before I fired. On we went, down 
 the mountain, swifter and swifter, until I began 
 to imagine myself John Gilpin in real earnest. 
 That side of the mountain was unexplored, so far 
 as any of us knew, and I thought I was miles 
 from any human being on earth, when to my sur 
 prise, right in front of me, not fifty feet away, a 
 little blue smoke appeared to be rising right up 
 out of the snow under the edge of a steep cliff. 
 
 " I stopped in wonderment and said to myself, 
 This is surely a branch of Hades. Being alone, 
 some fifty feet above the place from whence the 
 smoke issued, I concluded to approach cautiously. 
 
 "The idea occurred to me that there might be 
 bandits and perhaps, for all I knew, there might 
 be a cave full of them. However, I approached 
 quietly so that I would not be perceived until I 
 could ascertain what it was. 
 
 "After reconnoitering for some time I noticed 
 a pile of fresh gravel and it looked fine looked 
 as though it was rich in gold, and as I swung 
 around a big boulder a sight met my gaze that I 
 shall never forget. 
 
104 A STORY OF 
 
 " A little cabin was situated near the mouth of 
 a tunnel and the passage-way between the two 
 had been timbered over, but was now partly 
 buried under the snow, and before the door of 
 the house, on bended knees, a frail little woman 
 was engaged in prayer. I listened. She was 
 praying for relief for one who had gone out in the 
 storm for assistance, and who had not returned; 
 she prayed for the life of her baby that it might 
 be saved from starvation. At that I could not 
 listen longer. I knew something must be done 
 at once so I approached. Seeing me she rose to 
 her feet, gasped out something what I could 
 not understand and then swooned away. 
 
 " Upon entering the cabin I found several men 
 prostrated by hunger and so exhausted they could 
 hardly articulate. 
 
 "I took in the whole situation at once and 
 went to work with a will. I rebuilt the fire, took 
 off my pack of provisions, such as I had, and 
 administered a stiff dose of whisky to all the 
 unfortunates, allowing them to partake of the 
 food but sparingly. After the little woman had 
 been comfortably seated by the fire she soon 
 revived sufficiently to tell her story. 
 
THE MINES 105 
 
 "She said her husband, brothers, baby and her 
 self had come across the mountains late in the 
 Fall. Heavy storms had overtaken them and they 
 concluded to camp where they were, as it seemed 
 a promising spot to tunnel in and see if they 
 could strike gold. They were running short of 
 provisions so one of the brothers started out in 
 the storm for help. Then she cautiously inquired, 
 Did he send you? 
 
 " I replied, I have not seen him/ Then she 
 exclaimed, He has lost his way in the storm and 
 we are starving! Just before you arrived my 
 poor dear husband brought out the last barrow of 
 dirt and I saw gold in it, so we can pay you, sir, 
 for assistance. Can you help us? 
 
 " The men have not eaten for several days so 
 as to save food for baby and me. Poor little 
 thing, she is so quiet now I fear the worst, and 
 only a few days ago she was lying here cooing 
 while I was out there with the poor men doing 
 what I could to encourage them to work, for I 
 felt they would strike it. They are so brave and 
 so kind, sir. 
 
 "One poor fellow who was more dead than 
 alive said, We will trust you! We know you 
 will help us. I proposed to them to leave what 
 
106 A STORY OF 
 
 provisions I had and to take the little one home 
 with me (it could not have been more than fifteen 
 miles away), to gather a few men as a rescue 
 party with whose assistance the entire family 
 could be conveyed to my camp. 
 
 "The mother at first demurred at parting with 
 her babe, but the men finally overcame her 
 objections, and when I looked at her pinched 
 and grief-stricken face I mentally resolved that 
 if the power were mine to do so, help should come 
 before another sunrise. Then I bundled the 
 little one upon my back, after having seen that 
 she was warmly wrapped up, and started upon 
 my journey. The mother watched us until we 
 had passed out of sight ; I turned once and called 
 out, Keep up your heart; I will be back by 
 morning at the very latest/ She appeared to 
 brighten up at that. 
 
 "It was four o clock p. M. when the race began 
 a race for life or death. As I zigzagged the 
 mountains on my snowshoes to reach the top, the 
 sad sight I had seen in the cabin appeared before 
 me every now and then, and I offered up a prayer 
 to Heaven as I had not done in years that God 
 would give me strength to withstand the ordeal 
 before me. 
 
THE MINES 107 
 
 " I was younger then than now, and the plead 
 ings of the unfortunates touched every chord in 
 my heart. The unselfish devotion of the little 
 woman who had stood by to encourage those 
 broken-hearted men, until she fell exhausted from 
 hunger, with no thought of herself, spurred me 
 on to save the babe she loved and to give succor 
 to the others as soon as possible. 
 
 " In passing the trappers and prospectors I gave 
 the alarm as I ran, telling them to follow me to 
 my place in haste. 
 
 "The baby was turned over to my wife s care, 
 and having gathered a few men and everything 
 necessary, the rescue party started soon after dark. 
 We arrived about midnight, and before another 
 day all the occupants of the cabin had been 
 transferred to a place of comfort and safety. 
 But the deprivation proved too great for the 
 little mother and she survived but a short time. 
 The father lingered many months, then he, too, 
 died. The body of the poor fellow who had 
 started out to obtain relief was discovered the 
 next Spring when the snow had melted. The 
 baby, however, grew and throve. 
 
 "The mine proved to be one of the richest that 
 had been discovered here in many years, and as 
 
108 A STORY OF 
 
 they happened to strike the end of a channel 
 running south a beautiful little town sprang up. 
 A very contented lot of miners lived there, but it 
 has been abandoned now for years. The pay all 
 went out in one night. 
 
 "Well, you see, I saved the child, and she has 
 been our sunshine from that day to this. She 
 has always been an angel of mercy and she 
 earned the name of Forest Queen from the old 
 miners and has never know any other. 
 
 "In the prosperous days of the mine she 
 received a fair education. Her every want was 
 supplied by the old miners, all of whom claimed 
 an interest in her and why not? Nothing 
 could prevent her from going to the bedside of a 
 sick and crippled neighbor, and her lovable nature 
 endeared her to all. 
 
 " She and a little fair-haired boy of one of the 
 miners were the only children in camp, and they 
 roamed the mountains hand in hand from child 
 hood to womanhood and manhood." 
 
 " Many asked her hand in marriage, but she 
 would always tell them to get the consent of her 
 fathers of the forest, meaning us old miners who 
 loved her as our own. You can imagine how hard 
 it would be for a newcomer to get that consent. 
 
THE MINES 109 
 
 Finally, her ever-faithful playmate asked her 
 to be his wife, and the young couple received 
 our sanction and blessing. They were married, 
 and their home is over there across the creek. 
 They both are just as dear to us as ever, and she 
 is still our Forest Queen ." 
 
 " I think the old abandoned mine would inter 
 est you," continued Mr. Campbell, "and we will 
 start up there to-morrow morning, if you like. I 
 promised to show you something if you came. * 
 
 The next morning, well provisioned, we started 
 out. The sun was shining brightly from a clear, 
 blue sky, and the gentle murmur of the zephyrs 
 through the beautiful foliage of the large pines 
 was in itself inspiring. About dark we approached 
 the little old desolate village where at one time 
 lights had twinkled from many cabin windows; 
 now not a single lamp shed its solitary ray upon 
 the passer-by. Upon entering its narrow streets, 
 with the houses leaning or fallen from age and 
 neglect, it impressed one as being a city of the 
 dead. 
 
 Mr. Campbell rode up near a big tree at the 
 mouth of a tunnel, and dismounting said, "We 
 will camp here." " Why not take one of those 
 old houses?" I asked. 
 
110 A STORY OF 
 
 "What! we camp in one of those cabins? 
 Never! That place (pointing to the little village) 
 is as sacred to us old miners as your own bury- 
 ing-ground where your loved ones are laid to 
 rest. I will show you the cabins to-morrow, not 
 now. We ll go into the tunnel to-night if you 
 like." 
 
 "How far?" I asked. "A mile and a half," he 
 replied. I shuddered at that, but being aware 
 that he was an old miner I knew he would not go 
 into unnecessary danger. 
 
 So after supper we lighted our candles and 
 started into the tunnel. As we did so he 
 remarked, " Many a day I have worked in this 
 mine, and I often come to see it, for the days I 
 worked here when it was in full blast were the 
 happiest of my life." 
 
 We picked our way over timbers and piles of 
 debris where the walls had caved in, with 
 torrents of water running everywhere. As we 
 neared the end the roar of the water, constantly 
 growing louder, became deafening, and before I 
 had time to inquire the cause of the noise we 
 came to where there was a cavity cut out of the 
 solid cement some fifty feet wide and about as 
 high, and there were two huge thirty-six-foot 
 
Old abandoned mine. 
 
OF 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 4dL/FORt^fl 
 
THE MINES 111 
 
 water-wheels now badly fallen to decay, while 
 two or three hundred inches of water were pour 
 ing out of the cement above them as though in 
 noisy protestation of their inability to revolve. 
 
 The sound of the water so far underground 
 made a certain feeling of dread come over me, 
 and yet the charm of the place was indescribable. 
 
 We were then about a thousand feet from the 
 top of the mountain. That channel had paid 
 from where it was first struck for one and a 
 half miles running south, when one night, all of a 
 sudden, they ran into solid cement. Word v/rnt 
 to the little village from the night shift that the 
 channel was lost. It sent a gloom over the once 
 happy camp, but they would not be daunted by 
 that, so they ran four hundred feet into the 
 cement and sank down sixty feet, where they 
 found a channel much larger running at right 
 angles which had cut the former one in two. 
 This was much richer, consisting of an altogether 
 different kind of gravel from the one they had lost. 
 
 Once more their hopes were at a high pitch 
 but they had still a great obstacle to contend 
 with, and that was the water in the lower 
 channel, which they fully realized might be diffi 
 cult to overcome. 
 
112 A STORY OF 
 
 So they conceived the idea of putting in a big 
 water-wheel and running a tunnel above in the 
 cement for water to propel it. They succeeded 
 in getting plenty of water in the cement, but as 
 they sank to the bed-rock in the new channel and 
 began to breast out, the water increased and then 
 they placed another water-wheel beside the first. 
 This long struggle had disheartened many; some 
 sickened and died from exposure in fighting the 
 water and others left their homes and everything 
 in them, as it was easier to get things in than out 
 of the camp. Finally the power of the two 
 immense pumps driven by the water-wheels was 
 insufficient to overcome the water, and as the 
 sad tidings reached the village from the workers 
 it sent such a gloom over the miners that every 
 thing they were doing at the time of receiving 
 the news stopped like a clock with a broken 
 mainspring. 
 
 In our wanderings through the tunnel and 
 numerous drifts Mr. Campbell would point out 
 this and that place where it had been rich and 
 where this one and that one of his friends had 
 worked, giving their names. 
 
 The next morning he beckoned me to follow 
 and we started to go thorugh the deserted village, 
 some four hundred yards distant. 
 
THE MINES 113 
 
 The old man led the way with bowed head to a 
 little old cabin, leaning with age, and as he entered 
 he took off his hat and remarked, "You can look 
 around, but you must not touch anything." The 
 cabin was as the owner left it, except for age 
 and dust. The bed he had slept on; a few half- 
 burned sticks in the fire-place; the old "cupboard 
 on the wall, with pans and dishes; a pair of 
 musty boots peeping out from under the bed; an 
 old hat hanging on a nail upon the wall ; a 
 little rude table, with pen and ink, some opened 
 and some unopened letters lying there. I ventured 
 to speak, but my friend raised his hand. I knew 
 he was deeply affected, and we walked away. 
 When we were outside he said, "The miner 
 who lived in this cabin, poor fellow, was so 
 brave and good. He was drowned in the mine 
 the night we had to abandon it. He fought the 
 water to the last. He did not care, he said, 
 for himself, but there were so many depending 
 upon the success of the mine. He was buried up 
 there on the mountain side/ 1 pointing to a little 
 graveyard. 
 
 He next led me to a row of once prosperous 
 business houses, built from round logs, with 
 porches in front. The first one we entered was 
 
114 A STORY OF 
 
 a store and post-office. The dust-covered shelves 
 around the walls here and there still held remnants 
 of wares undisturbed for many years; a desk 
 with a day-book and ledger, which I was allowed 
 to look through, upon a promise of careful 
 handling. There were unopened letters in the 
 post-office, many of them being addressed to those 
 who were resting in the little graveyard on the 
 mountain side. He next took me into an 
 adjoining billiard hall and saloon. There were 
 the bar and fixtures, the billiard-table in the 
 center of the hall, with the cues and balls lying 
 on the table, and but for the dust and decayed 
 condition of the building you would think a game 
 had just been finished. 
 
 Mr. Campbell walked over to the opposite side 
 of the table to where I stood, and pointing to a 
 cue, stated that he had played the last game and 
 with that cue he had made the last shot, when 
 the news came that the mine was flooded and the 
 men all driven out and one of their number 
 drowned, while hundreds of inches of water were 
 following them out of the tunnel. " You may 
 know, sir, from what you have seen here, that 
 everything stopped short in this place on receiv 
 ing those tidings." 
 
THE MINES 115 
 
 After showing me many other relics of the 
 camp we walked up the mountain side to the vil 
 lage of the dead. 
 
 I sat down on a stump in the graveyard of the 
 old abandoned mine and looked down on the 
 little deserted village below in that almost inac 
 cessible spot. It looked both romantic and 
 pathetic to me, and what still added to the pathos, 
 the wind moaned a gentle lullaby through the tall 
 pines on the mountain tops above me. The 
 crudely cut names on the rough rock headstones 
 of the graves before me were the same I had 
 seen on the uncalled-for and unopened letters in 
 the village post-office. 
 
MY ERST SWEETHEART AND 
 SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 
 
 In the month of April, 1853, near a beautiful 
 little river known as the Miami, running through 
 a fertile portion of the grand old State of Ohio, 
 two sturdy sons of toil settled, with their families, 
 to build homes for themselves and loved ones. 
 
 This particular section of the country at that 
 time was as the master hand of Nature had left 
 it with immense groves of virgin timber, of 
 walnut, hickory, oak, ash and sugar maple. 
 
 Along the clear running streams tributary to 
 the Miami were patches here and there barren of 
 timber, which looked as though they had been 
 ordained for the grain fields of future generations. 
 
 These pioneers had but one yoke of oxen each, 
 a wagon, a plow and very few of the most com 
 mon farming utensils. Under similar conditions 
 
 (116) 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD H7 
 
 the task of subduing the wilderness would to us 
 at this day seem impossible, yet our ancestors did 
 not hesitate at its magnitude. 
 
 Spring was fast disappearing before our set 
 tlers had selected their land, and it became 
 necessary to form some plan of co-operation as 
 there was much to be accomplished before the 
 next Winter should come on; and woe betide the 
 unfortunate found unprepared for its rigors. 
 
 It was decided to call together the two families 
 (which consisted of my father, mother and myself, 
 our new friend, Mr. Summers, and his wife and 
 their little fair-haired, blue-eyed daughter, about 
 the same age as myself) to arrange as to the 
 duties to be performed by each, in order to bring 
 about the object so greatly desired. 
 
 First, it was decided to live in the wagons 
 during Summer, to camp close to the creek on 
 account of the wood and water and to select the 
 places barren of timber for the fields. 
 
 Second, Mrs. Summers would do the cooking 
 for all; my mother s part was to put in a little 
 early garden and tend the chickens. The heaviest 
 portion of the work, of course, fell to my father 
 and Mr. Summers, who were to plow and plant 
 the grain and then fence in the fields with rails, 
 split from the trees. 
 
118 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 After all the above details had been thoroughly 
 discussed and satisfactorily settled a silence came 
 upon the little group for a few moments, when a 
 sweet childish voice rang out on the still night 
 air, "Papa, dear, you have forgotten to give me 
 something to do; won t it be my home, too? 
 Can t I help make it?" 
 
 Mr. Summers took his little girl in his arms 
 and kissed her, exclaiming, " Dear little one, 
 what can you do?" 
 
 "Oh! I can do lots; on warm days you must 
 have good cool water to drink, and I heard you 
 say there was none up at the field, so I can bring 
 you water every day." 
 
 The little girl charmed me by her kind offer 
 and sweet manners, but somehow at the time I 
 would rather she had not made such a proposi 
 tion, for I had from that moment a kind of 
 foreboding that my father would intimate that he 
 had something of a like nature for me to do. 
 
 As it was growing late I suddenly got awfully 
 sleepy and did not hear. 
 
 The little girl ventured to ask my father if I 
 was a good boy. He replied that I was the best 
 boy he had. "Yes," she said, "but you have 
 only one." 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 119 
 
 I awakened a little later, as my father had a 
 knack of rousing me that never failed. 
 
 So ended the first night under the new regime. 
 
 The next morning we awoke to find a clear 
 blue sky above us, with the warm bright rays 
 of the sun peeping through the fast-budding 
 branches and the birds flitting from tree to tree, 
 singing their sweet songs as Nature had taught 
 them. 
 
 Never shall I forget that dimple-faced child 
 watching and pointing out the different kinds of 
 birds and commenting on their qualities as song 
 sters, catching now and then a note and warbling 
 with them in their matin lay. 
 
 We knew but little of the Summers family at 
 this time; we had met them journeying on the 
 road with the same object in view as our own and 
 the community of interests drew us together at 
 once. 
 
 As we found them in every way pleasant and 
 agreeable our friendship grew stronger day by 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Summers was a man of about the same 
 age as my father thirty-five years. He was a 
 short, well-set man with a pleasing face and 
 manners and open, honest countenance; he wore 
 
120 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 his hat on the back of his head, and was brimful 
 of ready wit and humor; he could crack a joke 
 and take one with equal readiness. 
 
 Mrs. Summers was short of stature, with a 
 sweet, kind, motherly face, modest and retiring, 
 and rather inclined to dry wit. 
 
 My father was tall, well proportioned, stately 
 and courteous in manner, and would enjoy a joke 
 the next day after its occurrence that is, if he 
 saw the point. 
 
 My mother was of medium size and graceful 
 in form and manners; her hair had just the least 
 tinge of the golden hue, and her disposition was 
 as sunny as her face. 
 
 Our covered wagons stood close together, 
 about two hundred feet from the stream, on a 
 beautiful little flat where there was no under 
 brush, but which was covered with large sugar 
 maples. The short, green, carpet-like grass and 
 the towering trees surrounding it made it alto 
 gether a lovely spot, and under these trees Sarah 
 and I had our swing and teeter-board and there 
 we spent the hours allotted to us for play, while 
 the beautiful wild birds of the forest entertained 
 us with their songs. 
 
The first camp in our new settlement. 
 
v \b"RA 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF 
 
 ^LIFOR^i 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 121 
 
 During the months of April and May we 
 plowed, planted and gardened. By the end of 
 May we had seeded fifteen acres of corn, ten 
 acres of wheat and much garden-stuff. By the 
 end of September we had a five-rail fence around 
 the twenty-five acres planted, and the corn laid 
 by, as they call it that is, corn after it comes 
 up is usually plowed four times and then left to 
 grow and ripen. 
 
 Everything had run smoothly with me up to 
 this time, when unfortunately I violated some rule 
 of the camp, or did something else not to my 
 father s liking, and received a thrashing for the 
 infraction. It almost broke my heart for Sarah 
 to see me licked, and the whipping was laid on 
 all the harder because I would not squeal while 
 she was looking on. My father thought I had 
 some protection under my clothing, as had hap 
 pened once before upon a similar occasion, and 
 he continued to punish me until my little playmate 
 begged him to desist. 
 
 But my troubles did not end there. Up to this 
 time I had had lots of fun with Mr. Summers, 
 whom I admired immensely, but he now began 
 to tease me before Sarah, in a sly way at different 
 times about my being licked, so that I fully 
 
122 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 resolved to get even with him if possible. I could 
 not sass him, nor could I stop him, for he teased 
 everybody, more or less, with his jokes and 
 pranks. After much cogitation I concluded the 
 only way to do would be to stir up trouble 
 between him and my father, thinking that my 
 father would deal out to him some of the same 
 medicine which he had so lavishly bestowed on me. 
 What to do or how to do it I did not know, but I 
 made up my mind to watch my chance; and it 
 came. 
 
 I noticed that on a number of occasions after 
 my father had gone to bed in the wagon he would 
 put his feet out under the curtains at the end, and 
 just as sure as Mr. Summers would discover his 
 feet protruding, which was often the case, he 
 would take a twig and tickle my father s feet. 
 Naturally this would awaken my paternal ances 
 tor and he would call out, "You Summers! if you 
 don t stop your pranks I will play one on you." 
 Then Mr. Summers would chuckle at the idea of 
 my father playing a prank on him. So one night 
 I thought if I could carry out my plan without 
 being detected I would get even with my tormen 
 tor. I ll just get some charcoal and mash it up, 
 make a solution and paint my father s feet black 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 123 
 
 and he ll think Mr. Summers did it sure, and he ll 
 just annihilate him. 
 
 I mixed my solution and waited for the oppor 
 tunity. 
 
 It came one warm moonlight night. My 
 father had worked very hard that day and 
 naturally slept very soundly. He managed to 
 work his feet further out the wagon than usual, 
 so I took my charcoal solution and some feathers 
 from a brush and, creeping softly up, proceeded 
 to paint his feet. I finished my job in good 
 shape, unperceived, as I thought, by anybody, 
 and went to bed in great glee. 
 
 The following morning was beautiful and 
 bright and Mr. Summers arose earlier than usual. 
 I heard him approach the wagon; then there was 
 an interval of silence, during which I suppose he 
 was examining the strange objects protruding 
 from the cover. Then arose peal after peal of 
 laughter which quickly awakened the entire camp. 
 
 I lay in my bed in the wagon, one moment 
 trembling with fear, the next ejaculating to 
 myself, "Old fellow, your time has come! " 
 
 My father, hearing this unusual racket, knew 
 that something out of the common had happened 
 and was not averse to having his share of the fun 
 if there was any on hand. 
 
124 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 Upon springing from the wagon he discovered 
 the occasion of Mr. Summers hilarity. That 
 gentleman was lying on the ground gasping for 
 breath. 
 
 My father, being quick-tempered, approached 
 the supposed malefactor with uplifted hand. 
 Mr. Summers begged him to desist until he felt 
 better. Father finally thought better of his rash 
 move and walked toward the creek. As he did 
 so Mr. Summers hollered after him that he knew 
 it was a rather bad case, but he did not think it 
 had gone so far as that. I ventured to peep from 
 under the blankets in time to see my father turn 
 and shake his finger at Mr. Summers. "Mind 
 you, Summers, this is only borrowed ; I will pay 
 you back if I live." It is not necessary for me 
 to say that I felt easier, never dreaming for a 
 moment that that smooth man Summers had his 
 head sticking out from under his wagon-cover 
 and was watching me all the time I was perform 
 ing my hazardous task ; nor was I apprised of his 
 knowledge of the affair for a year and a half 
 afterward, and the predicament I was placed in 
 was embarrassing in the extreme. 
 
 During October Mr. Summers and my father 
 devoted all their time to cutti ng and hewing logs 
 to build their houses. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 125 
 
 In those days there was no difference of 
 opinion as to what constituted a home, nor to 
 the duties to be performed by each and every 
 member of the family, for they knew equal toil 
 and equal responsibility brought equal happiness. 
 
 I will endeavor to describe to you those old 
 homes and their charms. 
 
 The houses in those days were usually con 
 structed upon the following plan : There were two 
 rooms, each twenty by thirty feet, with a passage 
 way about twelve feet wide between them ; both 
 rooms and passage-way were covered by one 
 roof. This passage-way was called an entry. 
 
 The boards for the floor were split from white 
 ash trees, called punchings, laid down and adzed 
 off on top after being placed in their proper 
 position. The logs for the walls were hewn flat 
 on .both sides ; the cracks chinked and daubed. 
 Anyone mechanically inclined could build a 
 comfortable house and make a very nice job of it 
 in this way. 
 
 There was a porch, running the full length of 
 the house, twelve feet wide. 
 
 All houses were built facing the rising sun. 
 Large fire-places were constructed out of rock, at 
 each end of the building, when fire-proof rock 
 
126 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 could be found; otherwise they were made from 
 what we called split sticks plastered thoroughly 
 inside and out with clay. They would usually 
 accommodate sticks of wood five or six feet long, 
 and were sufficiently deep to take in a back log 
 two feet in diameter. 
 
 The roof and ceilings were of shaved shingles, 
 made from oak or walnut trees. 
 
 About the time that my father and Mr. Sum 
 mers had each sufficient material cut for a house 
 of the kind above mentioned, emigrants had 
 commenced to pour in from different sections of 
 the country. It was customary in all new settle 
 ments to give a man a day to raise his house or 
 barn as the case might be, and any work done for 
 the owner of the house after that would be paid 
 for in corn, fodder or potatoes. So, as our crop 
 was about ripened and would yield more than 
 sufficient for our requirements, we got up big 
 dinners and invited the emigrants to the house- 
 raising, and kept all hands busy at work until 
 Mr. Summers and my father s houses were 
 entirely completed. 
 
 As the newcomers had little or no money, and 
 were in need of fodder for their stock and corn 
 and wheat for breadstuff, my father and Mr. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 127 
 
 Summers decided to build themselves barns from 
 hewed logs, and by the new year each was in his 
 new house and the barns were completed. 
 
 The latter were built in a pen-like fashion, 
 about forty feet square, the logs laid close 
 together, and each pen about forty feet apart. 
 The whole thing was roofed over, leaving 
 between the two buildings a space about forty 
 feet with a shed on each side the full length of 
 the building, sixteen feet wide and one hundred 
 and twenty feet long. This space between the 
 two buildings was used as a threshing floor. 
 The first threshing was done with what they call 
 flails, made from a green hickory stick three 
 inches in diameter at the butt and six or seven 
 feet long; about three feet from the butt it was 
 mashed with an ax for a space of about twelve 
 inches, to make it limber. The barn floor was of 
 hard packed clay. Sheaves of wheat would be 
 cut open and spread around in a ring about thirty 
 feet in diameter; these wide projecting roofs 
 protected the threshing floor from storms. Each 
 neighbor would have what they called threshing 
 bees; all hands would go with their flails and 
 flay wheat. The flailing custom was soon 
 abolished and horses used instead. Two or 
 
128 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 three riders and as many horses as they could 
 lead tramped round and round on the grain; one 
 man stood in the center to keep the horses on 
 the grain and to turn it over until finished. 
 
 My father and Mr. Summers located their houses 
 some three hundred yards apart. The township 
 line ran between them and it was hoped that at 
 no distant day the country highway would be 
 surveyed and laid out near-by, which would 
 materially add to the value of the land. 
 
 At those house and barn-raisings they usually 
 took two hours for dinner at noon, and the time 
 not devoted to eating was occupied in resting and 
 story-telling. I remember one story more partic 
 ularly than any other, relative to a dog that our 
 friend Mr. Summers owned. The conversation 
 upon this particular day drifted upon coon- 
 hunting. 
 
 Our friend Summers remarked, " Now, gentle 
 men, when you come to talk about coon-hunting 
 and your coon dogs, I say I have a dog that can 
 kill more coons in a shorter space of time than 
 any other two dogs in this settlement." 
 
 Mrs. Summers interposed, "Why, Mr. Sum 
 mers, that dog is too lazy to kill coons. He is 
 too lazy to stand up to eat; he lies down when he 
 
The first homes in the settlement. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 129 
 
 eats. He is even too lazy to bark; I don t think 
 I ve heard that dog bark since you owned him. 
 I ve even tried to give him away. I presume the 
 reason I failed to do so was that my proffered 
 gift happened to be always to some one who was 
 a good judge of a dog." 
 
 Summers replied that he was the largest and 
 finest looking dog in the settlement. Mrs. Sum 
 mers said that was no criterion to go by, for there 
 are many beautiful things that are worthless. 
 But Mr Summers was stubborn and maintained 
 his point. " Now, gentlemen, in order to prove 
 to you that Mrs. Summers slander on my dog is 
 not true we ll just go out coon-hunting some fine 
 night, and I ll guarantee after that coon hunt 
 Mrs. Summers will have no trouble about dispos 
 ing of my beautiful dog, if she still desires to 
 do so." 
 
 Not very long after that, one afternoon about 
 three o clock, some of the boys reported that they 
 had found two big hollow trees plumb full of 
 coons; that they were guarding the trees so that 
 the coons could not get away until the neighbors 
 were told, so as to share in the sport of catching 
 them, and all who could spare the time were soon 
 on hand with their dogs and axes. 
 
130 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 Mr. Summers, with his big dog, was the main 
 feature of the occasion. They discovered in one 
 tree a small young coon, and decided they would 
 hold Mr. Summers dog until the tree with the 
 young coon in it had fallen, allowing the other 
 dogs to finish him. Having seen one very large 
 coon in the second tree, they decided that was 
 the coon which Mr Summers famous dog should 
 be permitted to annihilate. 
 
 When the first tree was felled, and while the 
 dog which had to fight the young coon was 
 making his advances, Summers dog reared and 
 foamed and howled to be released from his 
 master s grasp to sail into the affray. It was not 
 long, however, before the young coon was no 
 more. 
 
 Now all eyes centered upon the other tree 
 with the big old coon in it, which was now just 
 tottering and ready to fall. When it struck the 
 ground and the dust caused by the fall had cleared 
 away everyone stood anxiously watching for the 
 big old coon s appearance, lest he should slip out 
 and steal away. 
 
 Summers was more anxious than all the rest 
 (for he wanted Mrs. Summers to see his dog s 
 coon-killing qualities); this was a new country and 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 131 
 
 coons were a great pest in the grain fields and 
 chicken roosts. A dog that had the ability to 
 kill them by the drove was not to be sneered at. 
 The old coon finally made his appearance, 
 deliberately walked out from the hollow of the 
 tree, stretched himself up and took a good look 
 at each member of the crowd as unconcerned as 
 though there was not a coon-killer in the place. 
 At the sight of that coon Summers dog sat down 
 and whined. Summers let go of him and tried to 
 urge him on. Mrs. Summers, who had followed 
 her husband to see the performance of his canine 
 prodigy was convulsed with laughter. By this 
 time the coon had spied that big dog near the 
 stump of the tree; instead of beating a hasty 
 retreat, as everybody expected, he showed a fine 
 set of teeth about an inch long and started down 
 the tree on a canter in the direction of the dog, 
 and when within ten feet he sprang upon the 
 dog s back and fastened his teeth in his neck. 
 With a series of yelps that might have been heard 
 a mile away the dog took to the woods toward 
 his home, with the coon still clinging to him. 
 This took Summers so completely by surprise 
 that for once in his life his ready wit failed him. 
 When he recovered he politely informed his 
 
182 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 neighbors that his dog always took his coons 
 home to kill them. However, Mr. Summers lost 
 no time when he got home to write to the friend 
 who had given him the dog and had recommended 
 him as one of the finest coon dogs on earth, that 
 the dog had ruined his reputation in the neigh 
 borhood. 
 
 Summers soon received a reply from his friend 
 stating that he was very sorry that the dog had 
 not turned out to be a good coon dog. For he 
 had been taught from childhood that the Almighty 
 created everything for some purpose, and as he 
 had tried this dog for everything under the 
 heavens except coon-hunting and found him 
 worthless upon every other occasion, he thought, 
 of course, he would be a good coon dog. 
 
 Many a time Summers related this, which he 
 considered was a good joke on his friend. 
 
 As Autumn drew near, the hickory nuts and 
 walnuts ripened and fell to the ground and Sarah 
 and I busied ourselves gathering them for the 
 Winter. By the time the snow fell we had quite 
 a stock on hand. 
 
 Mr. Summers and my father had made a 
 number of baskets out of splits from white oak 
 trees, and we alternately had a corn shelling, first 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 133 
 
 at Mr. Summers and then at our house. The 
 corn would be carried into the large kitchen in 
 big baskets and be shelled by my father and 
 Mr. Summers before the big log fires, while 
 Mrs. Summers and my mother busied themselves 
 with their knitting. Sarah and myself in the 
 meantime picked out the bright red ears of 
 corn and cracked nuts with a hammer upon the 
 hearth. 
 
 The next day, weather permitting, the sacks of 
 corn would be loaded upon the wagon either by 
 my father or Mr. Summers, who took turns in 
 going to the mill to get the corn ground into 
 breadstuff. 
 
 So the many long winter evenings in the new 
 settlement were passed in shelling corn, making 
 baskets and cracking nuts, while certain hours of 
 the evening were allotted to Sarah and myself for 
 studying. 
 
 The next Summer my father and Mr. Summers 
 planted about two or three acres of orchards in a 
 variety of fruits. We had the lady-blush in those 
 days. 
 
 A year and a half from the time of our arrival 
 in the new settlement about twenty families had 
 established their homes as near to us as the lines 
 
134 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 of the land permitted. Additions were built to 
 these homes from time to time as necessity 
 required, making little nooks here and there with 
 porches; and the old-fashioned morning glories, 
 planted and trained by our mothers will long be 
 remembered. Then there began to be some talk 
 of the need of a schoolhouse. All this time my 
 father had not mentioned the cause of Mr. Sum 
 mers hilarity that bright Summer morning by the 
 creek and I began to wonder if he had forgotten 
 it; neither did Mr. Summers ever allude to it. 
 Finally a meeting of the neighbors was called at 
 our house for the purpose of arranging the details 
 for building a settlement schoolhouse. 
 
 There was a big fire burning brightly in the 
 fire-place and benches were placed to seat all who 
 came. The heads of all the families in the 
 community were present. 
 
 This first meeting in the new settlement was 
 of great importance in the minds of some of those 
 present; their grave faces, caused by the anxiety 
 of the final result, amused me, and, boy-like, I 
 proceeded to have a little fun. 
 
 I took a pin and bent it like a horseshoe, then 
 turned the point up so that when it was laid down 
 on a bench the point would stand upright. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 135 
 
 A rude table was placed at one end of the room 
 for the chairman s use, and my father ordered me 
 to place a short bench behind it, and in so doing 
 I laid my horseshoe pin down on the bench unob 
 served by any one. 
 
 Mr Patrick Moon, a dignified old gentleman, 
 was then selected to govern the meeting. He 
 took his seat, but to my surprise he made no 
 move nor outcry as I expected he would when 
 coming in contact with the pin-point; in some 
 way he sat down a little to one side of it. The 
 meeting was called to order and the business pro 
 ceeded with. 
 
 It was not very long before there was a heated 
 debate as to the location of the schoolhouse, and 
 two or three men jumped to their feet at once, all 
 trying to talk at the same time. 
 
 The chairman rapped for order and moved 
 restlessly on his bench, and in one of his moves 
 my fullest expectations were realized ; he sprang 
 to his feet with his eyes protruding, and struck 
 the top of the table a terrible blow with his cane, 
 bringing those excited in debate to their senses. 
 I knew what had happened; they didn t; and I 
 almost fell off my bench laughing. My father 
 gave me one of those cold, stern looks which 
 
 -o, T 
 
 UNIWPDCIT-V 
 
 
136 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 meant business, and asked me what I meant. 
 I replied, I wasn t laughing; my face just 
 slipped." 
 
 The chairman suggested to my father he had 
 better take the splinters off the top of his benches 
 before another gathering of the kind was held. 
 I drew a sigh of relief when he uttered those 
 words. There was no serious damage done and 
 the pin was not discovered, but Mr. Summers 
 gave me a look which plainly indicated he under 
 stood what had caused the chairman s boisterous 
 demonstration. Order was soon restored, how 
 ever, and they proceeded with the business before 
 them without further interruption. 
 
 After considering the matter thoroughly, suffi 
 cient labor was donated to build the schoolhouse, 
 and it was understood the work should commence 
 at once. 
 
 After the details had all been settled and the 
 chairman was in the act of announcing an 
 adjournment, my father arose and addressed the 
 assemblage in his usual stately manner: 
 
 "Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen: Inasmuch as 
 Mr. Summers and myself were the first settlers 
 in this beautiful valley we having enjoyed two 
 years of successful harvest and having received 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 137 
 
 your valuable and appreciated services in assist 
 ing us to erect our pleasant homes, I feel it now 
 may work some hardship upon you to grant the 
 request that I am about to make. I will state it 
 is my desire to have the inside walls of our new 
 schoolhouse hewed and planed to a perfect 
 smoothness and artistic designs painted thereon 
 to make it attractive to our little ones. Should 
 this request be granted, I will meet that extra 
 expense myself. I will pay for the labor for 
 planing and adzing the walls to a perfect smooth 
 ness, ready for the painter, giving three bushels 
 of corn a day. I will further ask, knowing as I 
 do my friend Mr. Summers artistic ability and 
 his readiness with the brush, that he be employed 
 to paint on those walls such designs as in his 
 judgment would be most appropriate, and for this 
 I am willing to allow him ten bushels of corn 
 a day for each and every day he is occupied in 
 this work, providing he is not over fifty days 
 doing it. 
 
 "It is also my wish, upon the completion of 
 this schoolhouse, that the keys be turned over to 
 the artist, my friend Mr. Summers. Now, 
 gentlemen, I think I have shown my confidence 
 in Mr. Summers ability to execute this work to 
 
138 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 the entire satisfaction of the community by offer 
 ing to foot the bills." 
 
 My father s object was to embarrass Mr. Sum 
 mers before the settlement, aiming, of course, to 
 play even on him for the little artistic work 
 supposed to have been done by Mr. Summers 
 upon my father s feet, but little did he dream that 
 he was dealing with a man of no mean artistic 
 ability, who had in his youth studied under the 
 masters of the old world. 
 
 It is needless to say my father s request was 
 granted without a single protest, not even from 
 Mr. Summers himself. 
 
 The next day after the meeting the committee 
 went out in the woods to select and measure off 
 the ground. They chose two acres on a beau 
 tiful little plateau on a section corner. 
 
 The land was covered with a fine grove of 
 trees; a portion of it was donated by Mr. Sum 
 mers, my father, Mr. Moon, chairman of the 
 committee, and a Mr. Shylock (by name but not 
 by nature). 
 
 Now every available man and boy stood with 
 ax and saw in hand awaiting the decision of the 
 schoolhouse committee, and as soon as it was 
 rendered the two acres were blazed out and the 
 entire force was intelligently put to work. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 139 
 
 Some felled the trees; some hewed and others 
 dragged them with their cattle to the building 
 site; several with skids and yoke of oxen com 
 menced to raise the building, and by the end of 
 the following week the schoolhouse was ready for 
 the artist. 
 
 The proposition of painting the walls had 
 wrought the settlement up to a high state of 
 excitement and many were the speculations 
 indulged in as to the subjects of the designs. 
 
 Mr. Summers, in the meantime, had arranged 
 to take the next grist to the mill, some forty 
 miles away, and while there he quietly secured 
 and brought home unobserved all the necessary 
 materials for the work. It was understood that 
 everybody was to be excluded from the school- 
 house until the artist had finished. 
 
 When his task was completed the colony would 
 be notified and a grand social gathering would 
 take place to dedicate the building. The walls 
 were to be hung with sheeting behind which no 
 curious eye might penetrate until the hour when 
 the paintings should be dramatically unveiled. 
 
 I began to feel some foreboding lest, before 
 that painting was finished some misfortune should 
 befall me, in the way of the cat getting out of the 
 
140 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 bag. I was somewhat older than when I first 
 met Mr. Summers and began to study that 
 individual very carefully. 
 
 I considered my father a very clever man 
 although a little slow of perception. 
 
 As regards Mr. Summers nationality I can t 
 say, but from his ready wit and humor I imagine 
 he must have been of the good old Irish stock. 
 He was so genial and clever and good in all 
 emergencies; he was judge and jury, and had 
 endeared himself to everybody in the colony. 
 He appeared to like me and always invited me to 
 his home, and would let Sarah come over to our 
 house. In that way we were almost constant 
 companions. 
 
 One evening after supper I was about to step 
 upon their porch when I heard her singing " My 
 Old Kentucky Home," while her father accom 
 panied her on the violin. I had often heard her 
 humming little snatches of some of the old-time 
 melodies during our hours of play, but the way 
 she sang that time-honored piece was a revela 
 tion to me: 
 
 The sun shines bright in the old Kentucky home, 
 
 Tis Summer, the darkies are gay, 
 The corn tops ripe and the meadow s in the bloom 
 While the birds make music all the day. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 141 
 
 The young folks roll on the little cabin floor, 
 
 All merry, all happy and bright, 
 By and by hard times come a knocking at the door 
 
 Then my old Kentucky home, good-night. 
 
 There was a silence; I rapped on the door. 
 The response came in Mr. Summers hearty tones, 
 "Come in, my little victim." I could not even 
 guess what he meant, but I knew there was some 
 practical joke in store for me. The only thing I 
 could do was to await results. I entered and 
 found a large log fire burning brightly, and its 
 light was caught up and reflected by the polished 
 white ash punching floor. 
 
 Mr. Summers was sitting on one side of the 
 fire-place with his violin in his hand, Mrs. Sum 
 mers opposite running the spinning-wheel; Sarah 
 was standing erect in front of the fire-place, ready 
 to take the next note. Mr. Summers, however, 
 preferred to tease rather than play on his violin. 
 After sitting for some time I ventured to ask him 
 what he meant by calling me "his little victim." 
 He jocularly said, "Oh! I ve made you lots of 
 trouble." Not being entirely satisfied with his 
 answer I said, "As it is about time, Mr. Sum 
 mers, you were painting the inside of the school- 
 house I would like to know something about the 
 designs you are going to paint." 
 
142 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 He replied, "Oh! it will be interesting; it will 
 interest you; in fact the whole settlement will 
 probably enjoy it very much more than myself." 
 I saw a look of dejection upon his face and felt 
 sorry for him. 
 
 Everybody had now stored their crops and 
 Christmas and New Year were close at hand. 
 
 Mr. Summers had locked himself up in the 
 new schoolhouse and was busily engaged in com 
 pleting the task he had undertaken. 
 
 The men folks of the settlement were busily 
 preparing wood and large back-logs, as was 
 customary in those days, for their Christmas fires, 
 while the women were actively engaged in mak 
 ing pumpkin pies and crullers. 
 
 They would visit alternately from house to 
 house during the Christmas and New Year week, 
 which was devoted to social amusements the 
 latter consisting largely of candy-pullings, dancing 
 popping corn, and the old-time kissing games. 
 
 So the festivities of 1854 passed and the New 
 Year dawned, and then the settlement became 
 anxious to know the result of the backwoodsman s 
 painting on the inside of the schoolhouse. 
 
 They began to realize by this time that there 
 was something between Mr. Summers and my 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 143 
 
 father which had brought this about. However, 
 they knew there was no appearance of ill-feeling 
 and everything pointed to fun over the matter at 
 somebody s expense. Just what the fun would 
 be, of course, could only be determined on the 
 night when the schoolhouse would be thrown 
 open to the inspection of the settlement. 
 
 On the 28th day of January, 1855, in the 
 following brief and formal invitation, Mr. Sum 
 mers notified the residents that his task was 
 accomplished : 
 
 "Mr. You and family are requested to be 
 
 present at the settlement schoolhouse on the 
 evening of January 29th, at eight p. M. sharp, at 
 the formal opening of our new schoolhouse and 
 the unveiling of the designs painted therein, 
 "Very truly yours, 
 
 "Summers." 
 
 In the meantime Mr. Summers had filled the 
 large eight-foot fire-place in the schoolhouse with 
 hickory wood, ready to be ignited with coals 
 brought from a near-by house. The schoolhouse 
 was provided with a large number of candles and 
 when all were lighted and the big log fire in full 
 blast, with its crackling hickory wood, it was 
 altogether very attractive in appearance. 
 
144 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 Mr. Summers had been complaining for several 
 days to his wife of not feeling very well. She 
 believed in his sincerity, of course, and was quite 
 alarmed about it. But he told her and Sarah that 
 he would feel better after awhile, and for them to 
 go and participate in the evening s pleasure and 
 to give Mr. Moon a letter that he would send. 
 The sly rogue was purposely indisposed upon 
 this particular occasion. The note addressed to 
 Mr. Moon was as follows: 
 
 "Please open letter marked number one first 
 and read the same to the audience before unveil 
 ing the right-hand side." 
 
 The people had all gathered promptly at the 
 appointed time, and the fire and candles were 
 burning brightly. Sheets were suspended from 
 the ceiling half way to the floor on both sides of 
 the room, covering the work, indicating plainly 
 there was a surprise in store for someone. 
 
 Mr. Moon arose and called the house to order. 
 Then, adjusting his horn spectacles, he read the 
 contents of letter number one as requested by 
 Mr. Summers. It read: 
 
 "Dear Neighbors and Friends: I have com 
 pleted my task to the best of my ability. The 
 delineation on the right-hand side of the wall 
 
Settlement schoolhouse. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 145 
 
 represents, as you will see, our first settlement 
 schoolhouse, in a beautiful forest of trees and the 
 children at play around it. 
 
 " I trust it will please you, and I regret very 
 much that I cannot be with you to-night, owing 
 to illness. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 " Summers." 
 
 So Mr. Moon ordered the unveiling of the 
 walls on the right-hand side. As the sheet was 
 removed the audience gazed, spellbound. Mrs. 
 Summers nearly wept with delight, this being the 
 first intimation she had ever received that her 
 husband was an artist. My father was so sur 
 prised that he stood dumbfounded, the work was 
 so beautiful and artistic. 
 
 Mr. Summers was eulogized and lauded to the 
 skies; cheer after cheer went up for this clever, 
 noble-hearted man. When my father could get 
 his breath he paid a tribute to his neighbor that 
 was unexcelled in those days. 
 
 The unveiling of the first picture with its beau 
 tiful workmanship had completely overshadowed 
 for the time being the unveiling of the other side. 
 
 Mr. Moon called them to order and announced 
 that he would read letter number two. 
 
146 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 You could have heard a hazel-nut drop on the 
 floor, so intense was the silence which prevailed 
 as he read: 
 
 " Friends and Neighbors: The left-hand side 
 represents the two first settlers in camp in this 
 beautiful little valley, and a clever ruse by a boy 
 to get me thrashed by his father, for teasing 
 him. Please spare the boy and send me my 
 shroud. 
 
 "Yours, 
 
 " Summers." 
 
 When the left-hand side was unveiled the pic 
 ture was so vivid and real my father gasped for 
 breath. The audience roared; Mrs. Summers 
 alternately laughed and cried. 
 
 When order was once more restored my father 
 arose and addressed the little assemblage as 
 follows : 
 
 "Ladies and Gentlemen! I wish to state that I 
 have been honestly and fairly defeated in an 
 intended joke by the cleverest, most genial gen 
 tleman the sun ever shone on. I have no words 
 at my command to express my admiration for this 
 genius, and I would say if he were allowed to 
 draw the least bit upon his imagination my breath 
 surely would have left me." 
 
Painting on the wall of the schoolhouse. 
 
OF THU 
 
 { UNIVERSITY ) 
 ^dUFORt4\|v 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 147 
 
 This greatly relieved Mrs. Summers, but as for 
 myself you can imagine my position, for that was 
 the first intimation my father ever had that it was 
 I who had done the little artistic work upon his 
 feet for which he had nearly chastised Mr. Sum 
 mers. 
 
 Nevertheless, Mr. Summers request to spare 
 the boy was respected. That primitive school- 
 house was afterward the scene of many a pleasant 
 gathering, and the occasion of the unveiling of 
 the paintings was long remembered. 
 
 The whole settlement had by this time arranged 
 for their maple sugar camps, which were most 
 profitable and enjoyable. 
 
 The maple trees grew in little clusters here 
 and there among the other timber on the different 
 tracts of land taken up by the settlers throughout 
 that section. 
 
 The sugar maple tree has a smooth bark and 
 usually grows quite tall; there are no low-hang 
 ing limbs, and I have seen them as large as 
 three and a half feet in diameter. But the best 
 juice-producing trees are those ranging from 
 eighteen inches to two feet at the stump. 
 
 Spiles are made from alders about an inch and 
 a half in diameter and eighteen inches long. 
 
148 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 The pith which lies at the core was punched 
 out, and the result was a hollow tube. 
 
 The trees were tapped just through the sap, 
 which is usually two or three inches thick, with 
 an auger about an inch and a half in diameter; 
 and into these the spiles were driven tightly, one 
 to four spiles to a tree in proportion to its size. 
 
 The trees were tapped during the season when 
 the sap was running, and they had to be retapped 
 every Spring and new spiles put in. 
 
 Wooden troughs were placed under these spiles 
 to catch the juice and these were usually emptied 
 at night. The boiling buildings were ordinarily 
 constructed about twenty feet wide and forty feet 
 long, out of round poles six to ten inches in 
 diameter, with shakes nailed over the cracks on 
 the outside. The door was high enough for a 
 tall man to walk into. 
 
 On each side the shake roof extended up to 
 within eighteen inches of the ridge-pole, leaving 
 an opening in the ridge of the roof from two to 
 three feet wide and about ten feet long. Right 
 in the center of the building, and under this 
 opening in the roof, two large wooden forks, 
 about ten inches in diameter, with four-inch 
 prongs, were firmly set in the ground with an 
 
Sugar camp. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 149 
 
 eight-inch pole laid across. On this pole hung a 
 series of kettles for boiling down the juice from 
 the trees and the smoke from the fire under the 
 kettles found its way out through the opening in 
 the roof. 
 
 This little loghouse gave sufficient protection 
 from the chilly winds and afforded a pleasant 
 place for those whose duty it was to watch the 
 kettles. 
 
 There was an opening on one side of this 
 building, with ample space to admit a man pass 
 ing in with two buckets. 
 
 They usually prepared wood in the daytime to 
 burn at night under the kettles, and also to build 
 bonfires here and there through the timber to 
 guide their steps in the darkness from one cluster 
 of trees to another. 
 
 These camps were never shut down from the 
 time they were opened until the close of what was 
 termed the season of the sugar-making. 
 
 The whole settlement looked forward every 
 year to the pleasure of the camping season and 
 great preparations were made for it. 
 
 Everyone vied with his neighbor in having the 
 neatest punching seats and tables within their 
 cabins. The young people would visit alternately 
 
150 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 from camp to camp, the young men carrying the 
 juice from the trees to the place of boiling down, 
 while the young ladies who accompanied them 
 occasionally sang some of the old-time melodies, 
 thereby making their labors pleasant instead of 
 irksome. 
 
 Sometimes on moonlight nights the young 
 folks attended to the kettles while the old people 
 strolled over to their neighbors places to see if 
 the juices there were sweeter than their own, and 
 to inquire if their trees produced more to the 
 diameter of the tree, and to comment upon the 
 best methods of making their sugar Frequently 
 they had the most enjoyable dances at these camps. 
 
 Mr. Summers, being mechanically inclined and 
 artistic as well, had constructed one of the most 
 beautiful and commodious camps in the settle 
 ment, and he was having too much fun over there 
 to suit my father; besides, there were more offers 
 from the young men to carry Mr. Summers swc ^t 
 juices from his trees than he had juice to carry. 
 
 Owing to our friend s genial, jovial nature and 
 his little Sarah s sweet songs and pleasant man 
 ners, and Mrs. Summers also being a ready 
 entertainer, their camp became the most noted 
 for social enjoyment in the settlement. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 151 
 
 Story-telling in the evenings at their homes or 
 sugar-camp gatherings were of common occur 
 rence. Some would tell stories on themselves 
 and others would relate jokes they had heard, 
 leaving the main point out, and would then look 
 surprised when no one laughed. 
 
 People were superstitious in those days and 
 Summers, recognizing the fact, took great delight 
 in telling blood-curdling ghost stories; he would 
 then look around in a sly way to see what effect 
 the story had upon his listeners. 
 
 Summers with his ghost stories was like some 
 people telling a lie the first and second time of 
 telling it they knew it to be one; after telling it 
 several times they begin to believe it really true. 
 
 My father had taken note of Summers yarns, 
 and having in mind the five hundred bushels of 
 corn he was out on the schoolhouse paintings, he 
 proceeded to get partly even. 
 
 About two hundred yards distant from the 
 Summers camp, along the road leading to our 
 house, there was a very large, pronged, bushy- 
 topped oak tree, with a hollow on one side 
 running from the ground up through the main 
 body. This hollow, being back from the road 
 and partly hanging over an abrupt embankment, 
 
152 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 was not easy of access on a dark night. My 
 father had quietly prepared a dummy, one side 
 jet black and the other side white; then he con 
 structed a light ladder, and these he hid securely 
 in the barn, which was not a very great distance 
 from the huge old tree. 
 
 This evening Summers called upon his different 
 neighbors asking them to come to his camp. 
 Upon his return, about eight o clock, he entered 
 the cabin in a dazed condition and staggered to 
 a seat. His face was drawn, his eyes had lost 
 their mischievous luster and the sweat stood in 
 beads upon his brow. 
 
 Mrs. Summers and her friends were frantic to 
 know what had caused him to be in such a state 
 of collapse. 
 
 As father entered the house Mrs. Summers 
 told him that her husband had received a fright 
 of some kind and asked him to find out if he 
 could what had caused it. Mr. Summers pointed 
 with his finger up the road toward the school- 
 house. 
 
 My father glanced at him and said, "Summers 
 your long confinement in the schoolhouse on 
 those paintings has brought on the painter s 
 cramps. I will go home and get something for 
 you." 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 153 
 
 The expression on his face caused Summers to 
 assume a more tranquil aspect. Presently shouts 
 were heard from the neighbors and the tramping 
 of feet coming toward the camp, each one trying 
 to relate what they had seen. 
 
 Father, instead of going for the medicine, 
 returned to the tree and frightened the neighbors 
 as they passed to the camp. This particular 
 night being dark my father climbed into the tree f 
 hung his dummy on some pulleys and cords, the 
 latter running down through the hollow of the 
 tree into the cavity, where he ensconced himself 
 out of sight and where he was well protected. 
 As the visitors proceeded to Mr. Summers camp 
 this hideous thing was swung to and fro, while 
 unearthly noises, seemingly coming from the 
 bowels of the earth, saluted their ears. 
 
 The dummy every now and then disappeared, 
 only to reappear again more mystifying than 
 ever. The whole settlement was in a furor of 
 excitement. Every time the terrifying object 
 made its appearance shots were fired into it; 
 but with a screech and a bound it would retreat 
 into the thick branches of the tree and disap 
 pear, only to make its appearance again in a few 
 minutes. 
 
154 MY FIRST SWEETHEART AND 
 
 Finally a chance shot cut the cord by which 
 it was suspended. It came crashing down through 
 the branches of the tree, frightening the crowd, 
 and they scattered in all directions. 
 
 Thereupon there uprose a hearty laugh near 
 the tree. They investigated, and found my 
 father roaring with laughter and the tears stream 
 ing down his cheeks, as Summers had laughed 
 that morning by the creek ; only father enjoyed 
 it more because the people now saw Mr. Sum 
 mers in his vanquished condition, as he had been 
 seen upon the night of the unveiling of the 
 paintings. 
 
 The dummy ghost taught both young and old 
 that the return of the departed in such a manner 
 was more of a fiction than a reality. 
 
 All returned to Summers camp where the big 
 bonfires were glowing, and the evening was spent 
 in their usual social way, the children playing 
 "puss-in-the-corner" and " hide-and-go-seek." 
 
 The rosy-cheeked maidens and young men 
 were gathered in groups talking about a certain 
 event which they thought was soon to take place, 
 while the old folks were whispering and nodding 
 to each other as though there was a surprise in 
 store for someone. 
 
SCENES OF MY CHILDHOOD 155 
 
 One rosy-cheeked damsel was blushing and 
 looking about anxiously as though waiting for 
 someone, when in came Mr. Shylock s son. 
 Walking up to her he said, "Sarah, it is all settled; 
 I have just come back from Little Blue, where 
 I have located a piece of land, and now (taking 
 her by the hand), good friends we want your 
 blessing and invite you all to the house-raising." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Summers were congratulated and 
 
 o 
 
 all the friends promised to lend their services to 
 the house-raising the next day. 
 
 The following morning both the young and old 
 men of the settlement were seen going cheerfully 
 along to erect the new home for the young 
 couple, and each member of the little com 
 munity contributed to the furnishings. In a 
 week s time their s was the happiest of weddings. 
 All the settlement, as one big family, joined in 
 heart-felt wishes for the new couple, and one 
 more home was added to the settlement. 
 
 Is there a pen capable of describing those old 
 homes, their pleasures and their charms, their 
 maple-sugar making, the orchards producing the 
 sweetest of fruits, the gardens, the loveliest old- 
 fashioned flowers, the song of the birds amid the 
 clearing of the fields? Has it ever been described 
 as it really was? 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I was reared in a rural way, but the ambition 
 of my life, when a boy, was to become a commer 
 cial traveler. I had often hung around the hotels 
 in the village near where I lived and listened to 
 the yarns and discussions of the gentlemen of the 
 road of money expended, and how they disposed 
 of the same in their expense accounts; the 
 rebukes they had received from their employers ; 
 of the interesting people who had touched them 
 by their geniality, cleverness and sociability; and 
 of the fun they had had at this or that place. 
 
 I was just freezing to get on the road and find 
 the funny spot. 
 
 I had noticed that, as a rule, the commercial 
 man was young, handsome and dressy. As 
 regards myself I was not exactly prepossessing 
 in appearance. I thought I could improve my 
 manners, but my form I could not. How true it 
 
 156) 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 157 
 
 is that some people dress to improve their appear 
 ance, but instead often become caricatures! 
 
 Did you ever see a certain type of man with a 
 plug hat on, or an old lady wearing a girl s bon 
 net? Ah! it is perhaps as well that we cannot 
 see ourselves as others see us. 
 
 However, I tired of doing the same thing over 
 and over again every year plowing, planting and 
 mowing ; listening to the low of the cows upon 
 their home-coming in the evening; the neigh of 
 the horse in the pasture ; the bark of the old farm 
 dog at the passer-by; and the crow of the rooster 
 in the tree opposite my window at the break of 
 day. All of these had become inexpressibly irk 
 some to me, and I wished to hear them no more. 
 I wanted to get out into the world; I longed for 
 what I considered a larger sphere of action ; and 
 I resolved to get a position on the road if I 
 could. But how to obtain one without having 
 some experience in that line was more than I 
 could tell. 
 
 One day, while glancing over a New York 
 paper, an advertisement caught my eye. It read 
 as follows: "Wanted A young man to go on the 
 road ; experience not necessary. Address Foxey 
 & Co., New York." 
 
158 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I thought of that funny spot in the commercial 
 man s life and I wrote at once to the address 
 given, stating that I had been reared in a rural 
 way without any experience of city or commercial 
 life, but if they would give me a trial I would 
 start for New York without delay. 
 
 In a few days I received a reply to come on 
 and if they did not employ me they would pay 
 my fare both ways. My small preparations 
 required but little time and I soon arrived at the 
 office of Foxey & Co. 
 
 It was a very large store; the floor space looked 
 almost as big as one of Dad s ten-acre fields. 
 They had all kinds of goods and things to sell; 
 but the stuff did not look very new; it had every 
 appearance of having been on hand for a long time. 
 
 I thought, "By Jove! it will be a pretty hard 
 job for a new beginner to sell old goods; how 
 ever, I will hear what they have to say." 
 
 I went into the office. Here were old Foxey 
 and his partner, both men well along in years, 
 but who, nevertheless, appeared to be of the 
 shrewd, genial business type. They pumped me 
 dry and with a nod and a sly wink to his partner, 
 Foxey remarked that I " would do," and he 
 thereupon employed me. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 159 
 
 I could not believe my own ears. I could not 
 understand then why they wanted a green young 
 man; there was every probability that I would 
 make more mistakes in one month than it would 
 cost to employ a man of experience. But, I 
 thought, some people are constituted that way, 
 and it is not for me to tell them whom they 
 should employ. 
 
 They told me to come the next morning pre 
 pared to take the road, and they would give me 
 all necessary instructions before I started. I was 
 on hand bright and early and somewhat dubiously 
 inspected my outfit, which consisted of one of 
 those old square, slick, black valises for my cloth 
 ing, and another of the same kind filled with the 
 company s cards. My instructions were to keep 
 my pockets well filled with the cards, never to 
 lose an opportunity of presenting one, and to 
 make myself agreeable to everyone upon all 
 occasions. When my supply of pasteboards ran 
 short they would send me more with instructions 
 what town to make next. I asked if they were 
 not going to give me a trunk of samples (as I 
 had noticed drummers displayed their samples, as 
 they called them) But the reply was, "You 
 must become acquainted first, afterward we will 
 
160 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 consider trunks and samples, if we think it 
 becomes necessary." So with my two square 
 black valises and a plug hat, with which they had 
 presented me, I accepted and started out on my 
 travels. I considered that I made quite a stun 
 ning appearance and I resolved I must not make 
 a failure of this trip or I would never reach the 
 funny spot in the commercial man s life. 
 
 You ask, did I find it? Yes! for the other 
 fellow. You see, he laughed easier than I did. 
 I will tell you all about it. 
 
 On boarding the train I felt somewhat nervous 
 and knew there would be no enjoyment for 
 me until after I had made a few presentations 
 of my cards and had become, as it were, 
 broken in. 
 
 I piled into a seat with my luggage. I had 
 not been there long before the conductor 
 approached with -his usual, " Ticket, please." 
 With one hand I presented my ticket and with 
 the other my card. He looked at my card, then 
 at me, smiled, shoved the card in his pocket and 
 walked on. I said to myself, "By Jove! that s 
 easy ; that fellow was kind of struck on my appear 
 ance." The clever smile he gave me braced 
 me up. 
 
My first start on the road as a commercial traveler. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 161 
 
 It was only a short run to the next station 
 where I was to get off and "work the town," as 
 it is called. 
 
 Upon alighting from the train the porter got 
 my baggage and me mixed up with the troupe of 
 a vaudeville show and shoved me into a private 
 coach which they had telegraphed ahead for, no 
 doubt taking me for the funny man of the show. 
 
 When we arrived at the hotel a lady and 
 gentleman approached me and asked if I were 
 not minister so-and-so. That so nearly paralyzed 
 me that one foot slipped off the curb into the 
 gutter with a sudden jerk. I righted myself as 
 soon as possible and replied that I was not, at the 
 same time presenting each with my card. They 
 looked at me and then at my card, and with a 
 pleasant smile bowed themselves away. I then 
 walked up to the hotel counter and picked up the 
 pen to register. As I did so the clerk said, 
 "Are you not the justice of peace from Coon 
 Hollow?" I replied that I was not, and pre 
 sented him with my card. He looked at my 
 card, then at me and suddenly got red in the 
 face. I suppose he did not dare laugh. 
 
 I tell you they treated me royally in that town. 
 Everybody appeared to enjoy my society. I 
 
162 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 presented my card upon every occasion and it 
 was always received with a smile. Even the 
 reporter of the Boston Despatch called at the 
 hotel where I stopped, took my picture and gave 
 me a bully write-up. I thought my clothes were 
 getting a little tight for me by this time and 
 I felt I was getting nearer the funny spot in the 
 commercial man s life. I began to imagine my 
 success as a commercial traveler would be of the 
 cyclone order. 
 
 As I had remained two days in this place and 
 was now off for the next, which was a city of some 
 importance, I began to wonder if everything 
 would work as smoothly with me there as it 
 had hitherto done and I felt I had left more 
 smiles behind me than frowns. 
 
 As the train pulled into the next station I 
 alighted and saw a large number of hotel runners 
 lined up beside a rope which separated them from 
 the crowd, calling out the names of their various 
 hotels. 
 
 As I sauntered down the line with my plug hat 
 on the back of my head, carrying my two valises, 
 the uproar that came from those runners who, 
 with outstretched hands, appealed to me for my 
 patronage, led me further to believe that my 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 163 
 
 appearance was that of an individual of some 
 importance. They were a jolly lot of fellows 
 and appeared to be laughing very heartily at 
 some little occurrence, I knew not what. Their 
 hilarity amused me, however. I walked slowly 
 down the line, making a careful study of each 
 one s face, as from my impression of the runner 
 I would select my hotel. I had scanned them 
 all very carefully till I reached the end of the 
 line, where a man of immense proportions was 
 calling out in a deep barytone voice the name of 
 his house. I said to myself, "If that fellow s 
 house is as substantial as he looks, that s the 
 place I ll hang out." So I gave him my baggage 
 and my card and boarded the bus with the 
 driver. Before I had time to get fairly seated 
 we were surrounded by a mob of hotel runners 
 calling out, "What house are you running for?" 
 I said to myself, " By Jove ! this is pretty good ; 
 they recognize me as a drummer already," and I 
 began to distribute my cards among them till I had 
 emptied my pockets, when the driver whipped up 
 and we drove off. By the time we had reached 
 the hotel I had refilled my pockets with cards. 
 The hotel office was a large place and the 
 floor v.-as made of tiles such as I had heard the 
 
164 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 drummers tell about, while the walls and ceiling 
 were beautifully frescoed. A string band was 
 playing the latest selections, but the piece which 
 pleased me more than all the rest was "Home 
 Sweet Home." 
 
 The landlord of this hotel had a natural, 
 genial way about him which drew one to him; 
 it was not that forced geniality that many people 
 have, so raw that it is perceptible to the most 
 inexperienced. He appeared to enjoy himself 
 in the business he was in, owing to the fact, I 
 presume, that he was gifted with keen perceptive 
 faculties and the everlasting panorama of human 
 characters floating daily before him was one 
 continuous source of amusement. 
 
 Well, I suppose I must have played my part in 
 entertaining him, for when he got throngh with 
 the greetings of the other arrivals he walked 
 across the floor to me with outstretched hands. 
 I drew myself up until my pantaloons got too 
 short for me, and presented him with my card. 
 He looked at it, then at me, and his soft blue 
 eyes twinkled with merriment as he took me by 
 the hand and led me from one group of gentle 
 men to another, introducing me to all, and to each 
 gentleman as I was presented I followed the 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 165 
 
 instructions of my house by handing out my 
 pasteboard. 
 
 It was not very long before the office was ring 
 ing with laughter. "By Jove ! they are a jolly lot 
 of fellows," I thought. They said to the landlord 
 that he was one of the finest entertainers that 
 they had met on the road, and I remarked to an 
 old gentleman standing near me (thinking I had 
 to say something) that the string band played 
 beautifully that last piece was especially well 
 executed, it being a well-known Strauss waltz. 
 He looked at me for a minute with a peculiar 
 smile and a merry twinkle in his eye, and said, 
 "Yes, they played that well; they did it as well as 
 you could." 
 
 The look, more than the remark which accom 
 panied it, nettled me, and I replied to him that I 
 did not claim to be a musician of equal talent with 
 the performers; then, as my resentment rose 
 higher and higher at the slur on my right to criti 
 cize, I said to him that he should not make a 
 remark of that kind unless he had some ability in 
 the musical line himself. He replied that he had, 
 and that he would wager the drinks for the house 
 that he could beat me playing the violin. I took 
 a look around the house, sizing the thing up, as it 
 
166 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 were, and did not think it would amount to very 
 much, as there were not many present at that 
 moment. 
 
 I formally accepted his challenge, never dream 
 ing for a moment that by communicating with 
 the clubs and other hotels that there was a musi 
 cal contest on hand worth seeing the house 
 would be filled to overflowing in a short time. 
 We arranged for a violin. An old gentleman was 
 selected by the crowd to act as judge, and we 
 drew straws to see which should play first. He 
 drew the longest straw and had to begin the per 
 formance. We were placed on chairs facing the 
 wall, with the judge between and directly behind 
 us. My opponent struck off at a pretty lively 
 gait, but in my judgment his playing was far 
 below the average of the poorest that I had ever 
 done, and I was so elated that I slapped one hand 
 on my knee, with a wave to the crowd with the 
 other, signifying that I had him. 
 
 By this time people had commenced to arrive 
 in large numbers. The hotel lobby was crowded 
 and they were standing on chairs and benches in 
 an uproar of laughter at the apparent defeat of 
 my opponent, as I thought. Just then the judge 
 tapped me on the shoulder to take the violin, as 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 167 
 
 it was my turn. I had been so taken up with 
 the increasing crowd and their hilarity that I had 
 not thought of the selection which would be most 
 appropriate for the occasion and bring the audi 
 ence to tears, which was my real object. So I 
 began with a prelude ( in order to get accustomed 
 to the violin curve on the finger-board and its 
 tone) before launching out on those beautiful 
 strains I had pictured in my mind. The audi 
 ence was by this time in an uproar. 
 
 The judge at my elbow had been very quiet. 
 I concluded I would turn around and ascertain 
 the cause, when I discovered him with both of 
 his forefingers shoved into his ears up to the first 
 joint. I said in an undertone, "Judge, how am I 
 getting on; don t you think I ll win?" He sprang 
 to his feet and ordered me to stop that excruciat 
 ing noise at once, as he had fully made up his 
 mind what his decision would be. He had hardly 
 got through when a table on rollers was moved 
 to the center of the room and he was lifted upon 
 it bodily by the crowd and requested to render 
 his judgment from this improvised platform so 
 that he could be heard by all. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said, " I was selected by you 
 to act as judge of this musical contest. My 
 
168 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 decision is that they both treat the house for 
 imposing upon this crowd such hideous strains, 
 and calling it music." These words actually took 
 my breath away. Two or three hundred people 
 at ten cents a drink. My mind wandered back 
 to a little village near where I lived and where I 
 had heard the drummers discuss the money 
 charged in their expense account. I wondered 
 to myself how the deuce I would explain to my 
 house thirty dollars worth of drinks in one night. 
 Was this one of those funny spots in the com 
 mercial man s life I had been looking for? My 
 pantaloons had been too short for me all the 
 evening, but they were long enough now. The 
 glasses were clinking merrily over the bar at my 
 expense and as the vast crowd drank to my health 
 and success, I would step forward with a sub 
 dued bow and present each one with my card. I 
 noticed that every individual when receiving it 
 would look first at me and then at the card. Those 
 more bold would laugh outright, while those who 
 were modest and retiring would swell up, get red 
 in the face and smile. I began to understand 
 that there was something wrong somewhere, and 
 meant to ascertain, if possible, what there was 
 about me and that infernal card which caused 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 169 
 
 such merriment. After the crowd in the lobby 
 had been served with drinks and cigars I was 
 informed by the bartender that I owed him just 
 $32.20 for the part I had taken in that little 
 musical contest. I paid it, and at the same time 
 I thought of the presentiment I had when start 
 ing out on the road that I would in some way 
 receive a shock to my nervous system before I 
 returned. The shock had come with a ven 
 geance, and I said to myself that the next man 
 who offered to bet he could beat me playing on 
 the violin or any other instrument would be 
 immediately and emphatically informed of the 
 fact that there was not a solitary musical chord 
 in my whole anatomy. But how the deuce was I 
 to explain the expenditure of $32.20 in one night 
 for whisky in my expense account? Foxey 
 would be simply paralyzed, and that meant dis 
 missal and disgrace for me. 
 
 By twelve o clock that night the crowd had 
 pretty well dispersed, and knowing that a number 
 of old experienced drummers had been present 
 and witnessed my defeat, I decided to invite a 
 few of them up to my room to take counsel 
 how best to make out my expense account. 
 They readily consented to help me. We went 
 
170 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 upstairs, pulled a table to the center of the room 
 and gathered around it. I was informed by one 
 that my opponent in the musical contest was an 
 old veteran of the road from Louisville, Ken 
 tucky, and one of the shrewdest as well as one of 
 the jolliest men who ever drummed the trades. 
 
 Finally one suggested, "Charge it up to enter 
 taining the trade." Another replied, "That s an 
 old gag; he has no trade." "Then why not 
 charge it up to incidentals?" Another said, "The 
 incidental business is played out." A third old 
 fellow sitting there apparently half asleep, inter 
 posed, "Young man, charge it up to experience." 
 
 At this juncture there was a loud rap upon the 
 door, and who should walk in but my opponent 
 in the musical contest. Without even a word of 
 salutation he said, "Youngster, charge it up to 
 painting the town red." That did seem to me 
 the most appropriate suggestion yet made. He 
 then apologized very nicely for intruding, and 
 stated that he had taken the liberty of bringing a 
 few of his friends, whom he knew it would be 
 well for me to meet, and he thereupon bade them 
 enter and introduced me. They proved to be 
 eight or ten of the leading commercial men of the 
 town, and following closely behind them were two 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 171 
 
 or three waiters with large metal trays loaded 
 down with the finest drinks and cigars. 
 
 This broke up the discussion on the expense 
 business, as I did not care to go into it any fur 
 ther under the circumstances, and I did not 
 approve of any of the suggestions the drummers 
 had made. 
 
 After spending an hour of hilarity the com 
 pany left me in my solitude to ponder over the 
 events of the evening. 
 
 My room faced the main street; the rattle of 
 milk wagons, drays and buses over the cobble 
 stones, and the clink of glasses at the bar, 
 directly under me, were not sounds of the lullaby 
 order conducive to sleep. The atmosphere of the 
 room smelt like a crowded street car on a rainy 
 day. 
 
 I slept but little that night. I somehow felt 
 that I was not through with that mob yet or 
 rather, that they were not through with me. 
 
 I arose early next morning and went down to 
 the lobby of the hotel. I was met by the head 
 bartender, who presented me with a bill of $10.50 
 for cigars and drinks ordered for the consulting 
 board which had met in my room the night 
 before. I meekly paid it. 
 
172 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I then sat down and wrote my house all the 
 facts in connection with the trip, stating in my 
 expense account that I had got into a musical 
 contest with a ruffian from Louisville, one who I 
 believed, by the way, was an old knight of the 
 road. By him and through him it cost me (or 
 rather you, if you please) $42.70 for whisky and 
 cigars in one night. Then a realizing sense of 
 their injustice in sending out an inexperienced 
 boy to cope with men who had spent years in the 
 business overcame me. I spunked up and talked 
 to Mr. Foxey as probably no salesman had ever 
 done before, in conclusion informing him that if 
 my services were not needed any longer he could 
 wire me at once, and I would await his reply at 
 this place. 
 
 After I had mailed my letter I concluded to go 
 to my room and ascertain, if possible, the cause 
 my attractiveness. I placed myself in front of 
 the mirror with my head bared; I could not see 
 anything wrong with my appearance. Then 
 suddenly I thought of that infernal card, which I 
 had never even taken the trouble to read, 
 although I had given thousands of them away. 
 I took one from my pocket. It read as follows: 
 "Second-hand goods of all descriptions, and any 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 173 
 
 old things. For full particulars address Foxey 
 & Co., No. Street, New York." 
 
 I just took that card, set it on the shelf along 
 side the glass, donned my plug hat, picked up my 
 two valises and presented myself in front of the 
 mirror so that I could see myself as others had 
 seen me. 
 
 It is not necessary to say that I now discovered 
 the reason for the hilarity of everyone whom 
 I met. 
 
 I awaited a reply from my house with some 
 foreboding, you may be assured. 
 
 In a few days I received it. I took that letter 
 and hid myself away in my room where no mortal 
 eye could see me. Opening it I read: 
 
 "Dear Sir: Your letter duly received. Your 
 expense account is allowed. (At that I sprang to 
 my feet and my pantaloons again became too 
 short for me.) Your salary is raised $25.00 per 
 month (I swelled up until the buttons almost 
 burst from my vest and I threw my hat to the 
 ceiling). We have heard good reports from you 
 all along the route. We got the paper at your 
 first stop-off wherein they gave you an amusing 
 write-up. We have had numerous inquiries from 
 along your route requesting catalogues and prices, 
 
174 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 and we have sold a number of cases of damaged 
 goods, second-hand wagons, buggies, harness, 
 etc., and we send you money and cards by 
 express. Cards are same as last, excepting that 
 we have added new as well as second-hand goods. 
 Take stage to country villages and to Sunnyside 
 and we ll write you more fully at that place." 
 
 At this juncture I sprang over the table, 
 grabbed the door-knob, and with a jerk threw 
 the door wide open, jumped astride the stair-rail 
 and slid down into the sitting-room below, land 
 ing in a heap with a thud on the floor. Two 
 strangers sitting near where I landed ran to 
 assist me to my feet. As they neared me I 
 thrust my card to each one. They proved to be 
 newspapermen of the city looking for news. 
 
 You ask, "Did they get it?" All that I can 
 say is, if they didn t it was not my fault. 
 
 I was dubbed at that place "Any Old Thing." 
 
 I had to wait two or three days for money and 
 cards at the hotel where I had met my Waterloo 
 in the musical contest, and in the meantime I 
 outlined my route to Sunnyside and other coun 
 try villages. 
 
 The first stop, I was informed, would be at 
 noon of the first day at "Old Laughing Billy 
 Jones " place. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 175 
 
 I noticed in the papers the next morning that 
 those two infernal reporters had published my 
 card with my picture alongside of it, stating that 
 I was to arrive by stage at "Old Laughing Billy 
 Jones " about noontime, on a certain day, and 
 the meeting of "Old Laughing Billy Jones" and 
 "Any Old Thing" would be interesting, and 
 those near-by should not miss the occasion. 
 
 Those papers, of course, were sent broadcast 
 through the country before me, and I began to 
 wonder now if old Foxey & Co. had anything to 
 do with my notoriety. Was it possible that they 
 had been feeing these reporters to make a guy 
 out of me just to advertise their business? 
 "Well," I thought, "they pay me well; let them 
 go it if they like, and I ll see it out and find that 
 funny point in the commercial man s life, if there 
 is one, before I stop." 
 
 In two or three days my money and cards 
 arrived, and I boarded the next stage for Sunny- 
 side and other country villages as instructed. 
 
 I was informed by the driver that our first 
 stop would be for dinner at " Old Laughing Billy 
 Jones ." I was the only passenger on the stage 
 that day and the driver would have liked to talk 
 my left arm off. I had not slept much since I 
 
176 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 started on the road on account of the noises 
 characteristic of city life. As we got well out 
 into the country the air and the gentle rocking 
 of the coach soon lulled me to sleep, and as I 
 dozed off the last I remember of the driver s 
 incessant chatter was that Miss Sally Jones, 
 "Old Laughing Billy s" daughter, had been fool 
 ing around a drummer and there was talk of 
 their getting married; but they didn t and there 
 was a row and "Old Laughing Billy" wasn t 
 stuck on drummers any more. 
 
 I was dead to the world in sleep for how long 
 I don t know. I can t tell you anything about 
 the country I passed through here, for I didn t 
 see it. All of a sudden ! was awakened by the 
 cling-clang-cling-clang of a bell. I looked out of 
 the stage and saw that we had arrived at "Old 
 Laughing Billy Jones " country inn. 
 
 The proprietor was sitting on a bench upon 
 the porch pulling on a bale rope attached to a 
 bell fastened on the top of a tall pole. Beside 
 him lay a gaunt, hungry-looking hog basking in 
 the sunshine and a dog standing in the doorway 
 appeared as though he longed for someone s cow 
 to die with a hollow horn. 
 
i I 
 
 "Old Laughing Billy Jones " place. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 177 
 
 As I alighted from the stage with my plug hat 
 on the back of my head and the two valises which 
 played such an important part in my make-up, 
 "Laughing Billy" just turned loose with a whirl 
 wind of "Haw! haw! haw! haw! haw!" then 
 caught his breath in a different key "Ho! ho! 
 ho! ho! ho!" and when he had run down he 
 called to his wife, "Mother, come here, it s 
 come!" 
 
 The old lady, hearing the uproar, ran to the 
 door, and as she did so she inquired, "What s 
 come?" Billy Jones replied, "Any Old Thing, 
 Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" At that moment an old 
 billy-goat made his appearance around the corner 
 of the house, through a half-tumbled-down garden 
 gate, and began at once to make free with me 
 and my baggage, rearing up on his hind feet and 
 coming sidewise, with his chin and his whiskers 
 tucked slightly under. I realized something had 
 to be done at once, as :< Old Laughing Billy" and 
 the crowd which had gathered at the inn were 
 convulsed with laughter. I did not have any 
 nails or old tin cans to give that infernal goat so 
 I just shoved one of my cards into his face. He 
 took it and scampered away. As he did so a 
 gentle e mile rippled over his mouth and whiskers. 
 
178 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 When the goat had got through greeting me 
 and "Old Laughing Billy" had subsided, I had 
 an opportunity to notice that extraordinary man. 
 He was a tall, lean, lank individual, with a few 
 long, stiff, straggling hairs on his slick bald head, 
 and with such a mischievous looking eye that it was 
 no wonder they called him " Laughing Billy 
 Jones." 
 
 Mrs. Jones soon informed us that dinner was 
 ready. There were about ten or twelve persons 
 seated around the table. The one who interested 
 me most was a worldly looking man past middle 
 age, and I made up my mind when dinner was 
 over I d find out who he was if he did not die 
 before I got the opportunity of making his 
 acquaintance; and this is no jest either, for he 
 was devoting himself most assiduously to a large 
 platter of sickly looking green cucumbers which 
 had been placed before him. 
 
 "Old Laughing Billy" proceeded to tell us 
 about his short crop this year. He did not have 
 the time to attend to it as he should, he was so 
 fully occupied in managing the hotel and enter 
 taining his guests. As he said this he looked 
 over toward me and let go another "Haw! haw! 
 haw! haw! haw!" Just then a hog walked 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 179 
 
 through the dining-room where we were eating. 
 "Old Billy" said, "Mother, drive the hog out." 
 
 Then the man in whom I had become so inter 
 ested arose and left the table; it was quite evi 
 dent that the simple manners of the country 
 people did not comport with his city-bred ideas. 
 I feared he might get away without my finding 
 out who he was, so I followed him. 
 
 On entering the sitting-room I thought, " Now 
 I ll present him with my card, and if he has a 
 card, that will make him show his hand." I 
 walked up to him and handed him my omnipres 
 ent credential, and he accepted it with a polite 
 bow, at the same time drawing forth his own from 
 a neat case. Upon it was printed, "Boston Des 
 patch I ve forgotten his name, but I could not 
 help wishing that the pestiferous goat had butted 
 that reporter co death before I arrived. 
 
 However, he was very pleasant, and as we 
 walked out upon the porch in front of the house 
 he complained of not feeling well. I suggested 
 it might be the green cucumbers he ate that made 
 him sick. He replied, with an insinuating look, 
 that "he never could resist the temptation of tak 
 ing in everything green that he came across." I 
 retorted, " Do you always find it the best thing 
 to do?" 
 
180 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 The driver had now changed horses, and being 
 impatient to start, shouted out, "All aboard for 
 Sunnyside!" As we rolled away I noticed the 
 poverty-stricken appearance of the place the 
 corn was about waist-high, and had a pale, sickly 
 look ; the wheat and oats were short in straw and 
 head; and the fences around "Old Billy s" neigh 
 borhood were generally in a dilapidated condition. 
 It looked as though they did more farming around 
 " Old Jones and the blacksmith-shop, store and 
 post-office, whittling on boxes and fences, than 
 they did in the fields. 
 
 "Old Billy" and his troubles soon passed from 
 our view, and as we drove over the brow of the 
 hill a beautiful landscape of rolling country lay 
 before us. Here and there were streams of clear 
 running water, the banks of which were fringed 
 with timber. 
 
 Meadows of timothy hay, wheat, oats and corn 
 alternating with their different hues, in the midst 
 of which could sometimes be seen a good 
 substantial old brick house, with broad porches, 
 standing back from the road, surrounded by 
 fruits and vines of every variety made a scene 
 most pleasing to the eye. As we passed the 
 suburban homes nearing Sunnyside the air came 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 181 
 
 to us permeated with sweet odors from the fast 
 ripening fruit upon the trees and from the flowers 
 in the gardens. Strains of music, frequently 
 accompanied by voices, floated out to us at 
 intervals upon the still evening air. The cows 
 were sauntering leisurely from the pastures, with 
 an occasional low to notify their masters of their 
 home-coming and the faithful old watchdog 
 greeted us now and then with a friendly bark. 
 
 On arriving at Sunnyside we found it to be a 
 beautiful little town lying along the banks of a 
 river. 
 
 After supper the reporter and myself took a 
 stroll through the village. The air was soft and 
 balmy and the young ladies were walking arm 
 in arm with their sweethearts, while the stars in 
 the dark blue sky above winked at their love- 
 making. This made me lonesome and homesick. 
 We noticed that everybody appeared to be going 
 in the same direction, which plainly indicated a 
 gathering of some kind ; so we allowed ourselves 
 to be led by the crowd. The stream of humanity 
 at last turned into a broad walk, both sides of 
 which were lined with walnut and locust trees. 
 This led us to a little old-fashioned church, set 
 well back from the road. We walked in and 
 took our seats. 
 
182 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I remember during the sermon the minister 
 remarked that "Some people had a head on their 
 shoulders, while others had only a knot on the 
 end of the spinal column." At this that infernal 
 reporter looked at me and smiled. When the 
 sermon was over they passed around the mis 
 sionary box, which appeared to be their usual 
 custom. As it was presented to an old gentleman 
 of rather pleasing appearance sitting in front of 
 us, I noticed that he contributed two pieces of 
 money and as they jingled into the box it 
 reminded me of a story I once heard of a man 
 whose contribution was always in a dual form. 
 Some uncharitable people said it was done so 
 that others might hear the money rattle. Finally 
 the usher whose business it was to attend to 
 that particular aisle, becoming curious, one day 
 after service proceeded to pump him. " Doctor," 
 he said, " I have noticed that upon a number of 
 occasions you have contributed to the missionary 
 cause a dollar and a ten-cent piece ; now, Doctor, 
 this must have some significance and we wish 
 to know its meaning." The doctor replied, 
 " Every individual has his own peculiar idea of 
 things and this is one of mine." But the usher 
 was not going to let him off so easily and said, 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 183 
 
 "That explanation is not satisfactory," insisting 
 upon knowing the reason. The doctor replied, 
 " I contribute the ten-cent piece to the missionary 
 cause and the dollar to defray its expenses." 
 
 The reporter, when I told him this, remarked, 
 "That s a good one; next time I get sick I ll send 
 for that old fellow." "Do you think that will be 
 before I leave this town?" I asked. 
 
 I remained in Sunnyside for several days and 
 made some very pleasant acquaintances. It 
 seemed to me more like the pleasurable spot in 
 the commercial man s life than any place I had 
 hitherto seen. 
 
 I received a letter while here from old Foxey 
 & Co., telling me to come back to New York 
 without delay. When I read it I said to myself, 
 " Guess there is something wrong with my expense 
 account." Opportunity not having presented itself 
 to allow of my distributing many of my company s 
 cards, and as I was to leave the next morning over 
 a different route from that which I had come, I 
 decided to avail myself of the chance of playing a 
 practical joke upon the reporter, so I wrote on 
 two or three hundred of the cards, " Represented 
 by the Boston Despatch" and just before daylight 
 I went and threw these cards into all the yards 
 
184 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 and doorways of business houses in the town. I 
 left on the next stage for New York City, but 
 with a heavy heart. 
 
 I disliked to leave the soft, balmy air of the 
 country, where freedom and happiness reigned and 
 where for several days I had heard the familiar 
 sounds which had once tired me, but which now 
 became inexpressibly dear to me again. What a 
 contrast between the life here and that of the 
 city, with its little stuffy hotel rooms, where the 
 rattle of milk wagons, drays and buses would be 
 mingled with one s dreams, and the foul odors of 
 the sewers would float into one s window on the 
 still night air ! It was the reverse of the funny 
 spot in the commercial man s life. 
 
 Father had sold his farm since I had left, and 
 I could not now retrace my steps and go back to 
 the old place, as I should certainly have done had 
 it been possible. 
 
 On arriving in New York City I immediately 
 made my way to the store of Foxey & Co. I 
 was called into the private office, and somehow I 
 felt there was trouble in store for me, for the same 
 two men who had nodded and winked to each 
 other that I "would do," appeared grave and 
 stern, and I wondered if those reporters had had 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 185 
 
 anything to do with it. Then I thought of the 
 cards I had cast abroad in the little town of Sim- 
 nyside, and straightway jumped to the conclusion 
 that the Boston Despatch man WPS at the bottom 
 of my troubles. Still, I thought, most reporters 
 are a good jolly lot of fellows and he has no reason 
 to do me harm. It is only now and then that 
 you find one who is soured on the cob and strikes 
 in all directions like a blind rattler in dog days. 
 
 However, I was soon relieved of my anxiety, 
 for they told me they were well pleased with my 
 trip, and the numerous inquiries they had received 
 from along my route had led them to place in my 
 hands a deal of great importance to them, a deal 
 of thousands of dollars. They gave me the 
 name of a gentleman and the hotel at which he 
 was stopping and told me to call upon him at 
 once. I replied that I did not think I could 
 meet with their expectations. "Call upon him 
 at once," was their reply. 
 
 I called at the hotel, as I had been requested, 
 sought out the gentleman and presented my card. 
 
 He looked at the card, then at me, smiled, and 
 asked me to be seated. 
 
 He was a short, thick-set man, with a pleasing 
 face and manners. I soon ascertained that he 
 
186 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 was not only at the head of a large manufactur 
 ing plant in one of Ohio s busiest cities, but was 
 a United States senator as well, so hereafter I 
 will call him the Senator. 
 
 After I was seated he looked at my card again 
 and smiled. I thought, " I m darned glad I have 
 not got those two square black valises with me." 
 "Well," he said, kind of chuckling to himself, 
 " What have you got to sell ? " I thought, "What 
 in the deuce will I say?" I did not want to make 
 a break before a United States senator, but to 
 save my life I could not think of a thing we had 
 to sell. He still chuckled and said, "What did 
 you say that you had to sell?" Before I 
 thought I replied, "Any old thing." "What s 
 the price?" he inquired. At that I was almost 
 bewildered, when a messenger boy marched in 
 and coming straight up to me handed me a 
 message from Foxey & Co. It read: 
 
 "We have just purchased a bankrupt stock of 
 railroad iron supplies, steel boiler plates, etc. 
 We have an almost unlimited quantity of this 
 stock and should you find a buyer will make 
 figures for you that will interest him. The 
 quantity that we supply will cut some figure in 
 the price." 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 187 
 
 I read the despatch and passed it to the Sena 
 tor. He looked it over, appeared to study its 
 contents closely and then handed it back. At 
 that moment a tall, handsome, dark-eyed man 
 walked in, approached the Senator and said, 
 "Well, Senator, I have arranged to entertain you 
 this evening." 
 
 The Senator bowed and introduced me to a 
 Mr. Marshall of Chicago, and I soon ascertained 
 that he was in the same business as myself. 
 Fearing that the new arrival would get the Sena 
 tor away from me I ventured to say, " Senator, I 
 was just about to ask you to accompany me to 
 the theater this evening when Mr. Marshall 
 appeared." 
 
 With a sly wink at the Senator, Marshall 
 replied, "You join us; we will be glad to have 
 you. It won t cost you a cent." At this junc 
 ture a gentleman of medium size, of the blonde 
 type, with sea-blue eyes, and somewhat effemi 
 nate in his manner, walked up and shook hands 
 with the Senator and Marshall, and from their 
 conversation I discovered that his mission was 
 also the same as Marshall s and my own. He 
 was introduced to me as Mr. Meyers of New 
 York. The brisk Chicago man seemed to have 
 
188 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 constituted himself the host of the evening, and 
 he promptly extended an invitation to Meyers to 
 consider himself a member of our party. 
 
 The messenger who had brought the note from 
 Foxey still lingered around as though he had 
 received instructions from the firm to make him 
 self useful, so I excused myself for a few moments 
 and wrote back as follows : 
 
 " Foxey & Co., Dear Sirs: Mr. Marshall of 
 Chicago is with the Senator, also a Mr. Meyers of 
 this city, both upon the same mission as myself, 
 and both old-timers on the road. Send up your 
 best and most ready entertainer if you expect the 
 results to benefit you. 
 
 " This mission you have sent me on has the 
 flavor of another musical contest or something 
 similar, and its magnitude I cannot even venture 
 to guess." 
 
 The reply came promptly: "Dear Sir: We 
 know of no one who has found fault with you as 
 an entertainer. (My hat fell off.) We send you 
 by messenger one thousand dollars to use in the 
 contest for that man s trade. More in waiting if 
 you need it. Foxey & Co." 
 
 I sprang to my feet and said, "By Jove! old 
 Foxey is blooded, and I ll make that deal if I get 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 189 
 
 into jail for my expense account. I guess the 
 boss has been on the road himself, but how in the 
 deuce am I to spend the money to help the matter 
 along?" For we were all Marshall s guests, 
 and the Senator was not a man to be trifled 
 with. 
 
 The more I thought of the thing the more 
 bewildering it became. One thousand dollars in 
 crisp new greenbacks, and a contest of wits to be 
 fought out that would baffle the most experienced! 
 I could not understand either, why Marshall had 
 been so ready with his invitation to me; however, 
 I concluded to accept the situation philosophically; 
 probably they were taking me along to have 
 some fun with me, and while they were doing 
 that old Foxey undoubtedly thought I might find 
 out something to his advantage. 
 
 The afternoon was wearing away and I wanted 
 to be alone to think out my plans. So, after 
 promising to meet the party about half past seven, 
 I excused myself and went to my room in a 
 decidedly dejected frame of mind. 
 
 A few familiar trinkets which I had brought 
 from the old farm were upon the center-table, and 
 in my aimless ramblings around the room I 
 mechanically picked up from among the lot a 
 
190 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 whistle made from a hazel bush, in the manu 
 facture of which, as a boy, I had taken special 
 pride. I blew it and it had the same vibrant 
 tone which I had been so proud of the day I 
 made it down by the creek with the boys. Just 
 then a loud rap came on the door. I called, 
 "Come in." A keen wiry-looking man appeared 
 before me and introduced himself as the head of 
 the detective bureau. I asked him what in the 
 deuce he wanted with me. Without one word of 
 reply he handed me this message: 
 
 "Should you need assistance in your contest 
 for trade, which we realize will probably be one 
 of some magnitude, we recommend the bearer of 
 this note and his associates. 
 
 to Foxey & Co." 
 
 I asked him to be seated. How could I make 
 use of detectives? Then I thought of my whistle, 
 and associated detectives and whistle together. 
 I said, " Captain, I have a matter of great impor 
 tance intrusted to me." I then explained to him 
 the nature of the case, the experienced men with 
 whom I had to deal, and that I was a green boy 
 from the country. I told him I had been invited 
 to be the guest of these gentlemen for the even 
 ing, but that I wished it to be so arranged that 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 191 
 
 they should pay nothing except where it was to 
 my interest for them to do so ; that I desired him 
 to take a sufficient force of men and shadow our 
 every move ; that when he heard the whistle there 
 should be no money received from those who had 
 invited me out. Should the whistle not be blown, 
 then those who gave the order must foot the bill. 
 He would have to change his men alternately so 
 they would not be discovered when following us. 
 
 The captain replied that he understood, and 
 that he could carry out the programme with per 
 fect ease; that his men would anticipate our 
 every move, and would appear as hack-drivers, 
 waiters, policemen, theater clerks and social busi 
 ness men, so that I could communicate with them 
 when necessary. I told him to be on hand at a 
 certain hotel at 7:30 sharp, supplied him with the 
 money necessary and arranged a code of signals. 
 
 I returned to the hotel at the appointed time, 
 and found my friends and a carriage in waiting. 
 The programme was a drive through the park 
 and a box in a Broadway theater. 
 
 We soon took our seats in the carriage and 
 were off down through the Bowery. As we 
 passed one of those numerous places character 
 istic of that thoroughfare, 1 heard a childish voice 
 
192 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 pleading in piteous tones with someone, for what, 
 I could not tell. I threw the carriage door open, 
 and springing out made my way to a low saloon 
 from whence the sound proceeded. 
 
 The pathos of the scene cannot be described. 
 A tough looking man stood behind the bar; 
 another, whose once pleasing features were now 
 distorted with drink, was leaning against the 
 counter, in one hand clutching a few pieces of 
 paper money of small denomination. The bar 
 keeper was urging him to release his grasp upon 
 it. Beside the wretch who held the money was 
 a little flaxen-haired girl, with her long unkempt 
 hair hanging down her back, her dress in tatters 
 and shreds, her feet and limbs bare, and her 
 sweet face and soft musical voice pleading with 
 her father not to spend his last cent for drink. 
 It was most touching as she clung to his hand, 
 entreating the man behind the bar not to take 
 the last cent from her father; as her mother was 
 sick and had earned that money with her needle. 
 She said her father was so good and kind when 
 he was sober. The man behind the bar made 
 another effort to release the drunken man s grasp 
 upon the money. "Oh! please, Mr. Barkeeper," 
 the little child cried, "don t take the money, we 
 are starving!" 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 193 
 
 My blood was fast reaching the boiling pitch, 
 but I was perfectly helpless to aid the child, as I 
 thought. The room contained a number of men, 
 who, I felt convinced, would not tolerate any 
 interference with what they considered a legiti 
 mate business. I must have looked the indigna 
 tion I felt, for a big man, clad in a long ulster, 
 and himself a seeming devotee of Bacchus, 
 unsteadily approached me. He managed to lurch 
 heavily against me and I turned away in disgust; 
 but while doing so, amid his profuse and drunken 
 apologies, I caught a whisper that electrified me. 
 He said, "Blow your whistle." My whistle! I 
 had forgotten all about it in the excitement of 
 the moment. I drew it forth and blew it. The 
 effect was something unexpected. The big man 
 instantly sobered up, and stepping up to the bar 
 picked up the child as though she were a feather, 
 and leading the father away said, "We ll take 
 em home, away from this den of vice." 
 
 You ask me why I blew my whistle? Were 
 not the police there? No, they were not. Why 
 should they be? Did not the power of a great 
 city give the pirate license to sell his poison on 
 that street at that number ? Had not the little 
 girl a right to plead with her drunken father not 
 
194 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 to spend the money earned by her sick mother? 
 There is a higher law than that made by man 
 which we are sometimes compelled to obey, and 
 I took the chance of interfering with a business 
 which the officials of a great city had licensed to rob 
 weak men and women of their faculties and money. 
 
 I reentered the carriage and we proceeded on 
 our way toward the park. The Senator was 
 quick and observing; his long experience of the 
 world had taught him to read invisible hand 
 writing on the walls, and he showed by his 
 actions that he believed I had something to do 
 with the dash of that stalwart man to the little 
 girl s rescue. But he said nothing. He was 
 most kind and considerate toward me, however, 
 and several times, when he thought I was not 
 observing him, I caught his eye upon me while a 
 perplexed expression crossed his countenance. 
 He knew I was a green country fellow and a 
 stranger to city ways. He was sure of that, or 
 he might have guessed my secret. 
 
 We made two or three halts on the way for 
 refreshments, -but I thought it best at these 
 places to allow the whistle to remain silent. On 
 our return from the park we stopped for dinner. 
 I blew my whistle. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 195 
 
 The cashier, with a courteous bow, told Mr. 
 Marshall there was no charge. The expression 
 upon that fellow s jovial face brought forth a 
 peal of laughter from the Senator and Meyers. 
 Marshall said nothing but looked as though he 
 was thinking about something. We walked out, 
 took the carriage to the theater and on arriving 
 there I got off to one side and blew the whistle. 
 Marshall approached the driver and asked him 
 what the bill was. " No charge," the driver replied. 
 
 Mr. Marshall turned to us all, and with some 
 thing which sounded very like profanity said, 
 "My friends are trying to play a practical joke 
 upon me, but whoever it is it won t last long. I ll 
 tire them out." 
 
 He walked up to the box-office in the theater 
 and called for the most expensive box in the 
 house. Just ahead of him, however, another 
 man was purchasing a ticket. He seemed to 
 have some trouble in making his selection; at 
 any rate, he thrust his long body half way into 
 the window and appeared to be on the best of 
 terms with the ticket man. Immediately after 
 him came Marshall. He laid the money down. 
 A little trill on the whistle his money was 
 shoved back. He was told it was no good. 
 
196 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed, savagely, "do you 
 mean to say I m a counterfeiter?" Oh, no!" 
 the clerk replied, "there is no charge." The 
 Senator and Meyers almost went into spasms as 
 the bewildered Marshall pocketed the tickets 
 and his money, and we all went into the 
 theater. 
 
 But Marshall was uneasy; something was 
 troubling him, and presently he suggested that 
 as the play was dry we should go to the Casino 
 Theater, where we could sit in the garden among 
 the palms and look down on the stage, and 
 have refreshments, if we so desired. 
 
 As we were his guests, we all readily consented. 
 We took a hack and soon arrived at the door of 
 the Casino, and as we alighted Marshall passed 
 the driver a piece of money. The whistle was 
 silent. Marshall looked around surprised, then 
 he walked to the theater box-office and ordered 
 four tickets. I blew the whistle. His money 
 was returned with the announcement that there 
 was no charge. I kept that fellow so busy with 
 his accounts with that whistle of mine that he did 
 not have much time to talk to the Senator on 
 business. I knew the Senator intended to leave 
 the next morning on the four A. M. train. If I could 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 197 
 
 just manage to keep this man Marshall from dis 
 covering my little racket I thought I d be all right. 
 
 We took seats around a table and Marshall 
 ordered wines and cigars. By this time, how 
 ever, he had made up his mind that either 
 Meyers or myself was the instigator of the mis 
 chief and he watched us so closely that I had no 
 opportunity to even get at the whistle, not to 
 mention blowing it. A large painting hung on 
 the wall at a slight distance from us. I excused 
 myself and went to inspect it and while so 
 engaged blew the signal. But as I turned 
 around to rejoin my friends there stood the 
 Senator at my very elbow. He had seen the 
 little maneuver. 
 
 I smiled and put the whistle in my pocket and 
 we were soon reseated at the table. When 
 Marshall offered to pay, his money was refused. 
 He tried to tip the waiters; they smiled, shook 
 their heads and walked away. 
 
 Then Marshall waxed wroth and accused Mr. 
 Meyers of putting up some joke on him. Mr. 
 Meyers was a man who enjoyed a joke when 
 played upon anybody else, but could not take 
 one himself; some hot words passed between 
 them in reference to it. 
 
198 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I sat there like a good boy in Sunday-school, 
 and the Senator whispered to me that he would 
 give me five dollars for the whistle. I imagined 
 he felt sorry for Mr. Marshall, and thought if he 
 could get the whistle the thing would stop. 
 
 I replied the whistle was one I had made 
 when a boy and there was a charm about it, and 
 I could not think of disposing of it. 
 
 They soon tired of the Casino and the Senator 
 proposed to take a drive down to the famous 
 Hoffman saloon. 
 
 On alighting from the hack at the saloon the 
 Senator begged me to let him blow it. He did 
 so just as Mr. Marshall was in the act of hand 
 ing the driver his money. The reply was, " No 
 charge." 
 
 While Mr. Marshall was chagrined the Senator 
 and Mr. Meyers were convulsed with laughter. 
 I, of course, kept quiet. I thought this really 
 appeared to be one of the funny spots in the 
 commercial man s life. 
 
 The Senator was the only one of the three 
 who had discovered the existence of the whistle, 
 but I knew by his actions that he was sorely 
 puzzled how the signal was so instantly under 
 stood and implicitly obeyed. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 199 
 
 As we entered the saloon Mr. Marshall said 
 that he knew half of the people in that saloon, 
 and as some of his friends were trying to play a 
 practical joke upon him he would make it expen 
 sive for them before he stopped. 
 
 At that the Senator passed the whistle back to 
 me. 
 
 The place was furnished with the utmost ele 
 gance; great mirrors lined the walls from floor 
 to ceiling. I came very near walking through 
 one, thinking it was an opening into another 
 room. 
 
 My bumping against the mirror brought forth 
 peals of laughter from the crowd, and Mr. Mar 
 shall asked the Senator where he got me. The 
 Senator anxiously inquired whether I had broken 
 anything. I soon saw that both Marshall and 
 Meyers were favorite clubmen, and the former 
 told his friends that some one that evening had 
 tried to play a practical joke upon him. Meyers 
 quickly retorted, "They hadn t tried they 
 simply did." 
 
 This remark nettled Marshall again, and he 
 told Meyers he d get even with him for the part 
 he had taken in it. Marshall believed that 
 Meyers was responsible for the whole thing. 
 
200 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 That was too much for me. I chuckled and the 
 Senator gave me a sly wink. 
 
 Neither Meyers nor Marshall had seen my 
 card; they knew nothing of my mission with the 
 Senator, although they knew the Senator was in 
 some way interested in me, and it annoyed them 
 because they could not fathom its meaning. 
 
 Had they seen the message I had shown the 
 Senator at the hotel from Foxey & Co. before 
 their arrival they probably would not have asked 
 me to be their guest. 
 
 Marshall, in his generous, off-hand way, invited 
 all present to have refreshments with him, at the 
 same time watching every movement that Meyers 
 made. 
 
 The crowd, however, had not forgotten what 
 they thought was a drummer s fish story about 
 some one paying all of Marshall s bills that even 
 ing, and the outcome of this treat was anxiously 
 watched. 
 
 When all had been served Marshall laid a roll 
 of bills upon the counter and the cashier told him 
 with a polite bow there would be no charge. 
 That gave his friends an opportunity of having a 
 little fun at his expense. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 201 
 
 I wondered to myself if this was one of the 
 funny spots in a drummer s life for Marshall and 
 Meyers. 
 
 It was now twelve o clock and the Senator 
 excused himself, saying he would be compelled 
 to retire, as he had to take the four A. M. train 
 for home, and he thanked Marshall for the 
 pleasant evening he had enjoyed. 
 
 The veiled sarcasm of the Senator s courteously 
 expressed gratitude made Marshall wince; I 
 giggled. Then the guest of the evening turned 
 to me, shook hands most cordially and said he 
 hoped to see me soon again. ( I said to myself, 
 "If you don t I m liable to go to jail for this 
 night s racket.") Marshall was allowed to secure 
 the hack to take the Senator home. As the 
 Senator had now gone and suspicion lay upon 
 Mr. Meyers, the whistle remained silent. 
 
 We all left soon after for our hotels, and I did 
 not go down to Foxey & Co. s for two or three 
 days. In the meantime I discovered that Meyers 
 had left New York City for the Senator s Ohio 
 town where his immense manufacturing plant was 
 located. That piece of news I thought meant my 
 doom upon that deal. 
 
202 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 I went down to see Foxey at once and resolved 
 to make a clean breast of the whole affair, and to 
 tell them plainly that I had on their behalf 
 painted the town red, and was almost out of 
 paint. 
 
 I entered the office with a subdued look and a 
 heavy heart. Their greeting was all that could 
 be desired, and just as I was about to tell them of 
 my defeat they handed me a letter which they 
 had received that very day. It was from the 
 Senator, with a list of his wants enclosed, request 
 ing prices, and with instructions to send the 
 answer down at once by "Any Old Thing." 
 
 "The letter is very satisfactory very, indeed/ 
 Mr. Foxey said, complaisantly rubbing his hands 
 together. "There is only one point about it 
 which will admit of explanation, and that is, what 
 can the gentleman mean by the extraordinary 
 expression, Any Old Thing? 1 
 
 I blurted out, "Why, your infernal card gave 
 me that name wherever I went." "Well, Any 
 Old Thing, take the train at once, and don t you 
 come back until you get that order." "But," I 
 protested, " couldn t you send some of your other 
 Any Old Things to finish up that job?" He 
 replied, "That card was gotten up for your special 
 
The picture of Meyers that Marshall signed my name to. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 203 
 
 benefit." For a few minutes I felt as though I 
 wanted to kill somebody, but I didn t. 
 
 After making a few arrangements I boarded 
 the train and arrived at the Senator s office about 
 ten A. M. next morning. As I walked in who 
 should I meet but Mr. Meyers with the Senator. 
 
 My competitor was in a dejected frame of mind 
 and would not speak to me. Evidently some 
 thing had happened; the Senator was leaning 
 back in his chair and laughing heartily. 
 
 I did not know what to think of this odd 
 reception until my eye happened to rest on a pen 
 drawing hanging above the desk. It was the 
 representation of a hack being drawn through 
 one of New York s toughest streets. An indi 
 vidual in the last stages of intoxication was 
 leaning out of the carriage. His clothes were in 
 disorder, his head was bandaged, but the features 
 which were visible bore a most striking resem 
 blance to my friend Meyers, and on the bottom 
 of the picture was written : 
 
 "This is the way Meyers looked the next 
 morning when we sent him home in a cab," and 
 my name was signed to it in big bold letters. 
 
 I tried to explain that I did not do it, but that 
 only increased the Senator s hilarity and Mr, 
 
204 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 Meyers indignation, and I was holding forth 
 eloquently in my own defense, when I was 
 interrupted by a gentle tap on the office door 
 and in walked Mr. Marshall with one arm in a 
 sling, one eye bandaged, and numerous patches of 
 court-plaster adorning his face and head. 
 
 The Senator gave him a quizzical look, and 
 then glanced significantly at the picture on the 
 wall, while Marshall graphically narrated the 
 story of a dreadful train wreck which he had just 
 experienced. We were all prompt with our 
 condolences, but no accounts of that smash-up 
 ever appeared in the papers. 
 
 I made up my mind that this versatile drummer 
 had executed that bit of artistic work, as I had 
 overheard a remark passed by one of the guests 
 at the Hoffman House that Mr. Marshall made 
 beautiful pen sketches ; but I was unable to con 
 vince anybody of the fact, and the charge of 
 cartooning Mr. Meyers on a drunk rested upon 
 me. 
 
 The Senator said that he had received the 
 drawing by mail about an hour previous to 
 Meyers arrival. 
 
 It was now nearing the hour of noon and the 
 Senator invited us to lunch with him at his club- 
 rooms. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 205 
 
 He informed Marshall that he was a pretty 
 hard looking case, but he d tell them at the club 
 that he was all right and would pass. 
 
 When we were seated in a private apartment 
 the Senator threw out some insinuations about 
 my whistle, and wanted to know if it would work 
 as well here as it did in New York. 
 
 Mr. Meyers and Marshall looked at each other. 
 This was the first they had heard of the whistle. 
 I avoided making any reply and went straight at 
 the Senator about the goods in question, finally 
 presenting my figures sealed up. The others, 
 perceiving that it was necessary for them to act, 
 followed suit. 
 
 The Senator scanned the prices carefully and 
 then said that while I was a few dollars lower 
 yet he did not feel justified in giving me the 
 order, because he had been buying goods of 
 Meyers and Marshall for a long time and had 
 always found them satisfactory in their dealings. 
 
 This was discouraging enough, and my oppo 
 nents were correspondingly elated and were not 
 slow in showing it ; but I still had a trump card 
 left and I resolved to play it. I excused myself 
 for a moment and when I returned said, "Well, 
 Senator, if I don t get the order I can have the 
 
206 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 picture, can t I?" "I don t know about that; I 
 had intended to preserve it as a very choice 
 specimen of art/ he replied. "But," I persisted, 
 "suppose I can, without getting up from this 
 table, hand you that picture here, in this room, 
 inside of thirty ninutes, will you give it to me 
 then?" The Senator looked me over thoroughly, 
 then glanced under the table and around the 
 room as though he thought I might have had 
 the thing hidden somewhere about me. But no, 
 the picture was evidently where he had left it 
 hanging in his office. It could not by any possi 
 bility have been purloined. Having made up his 
 mind on this point he leaned over toward me, 
 and speaking very deliberately and tapping the 
 table with his pencil between every word as if to 
 give emphasis to it, he said, "Young man, if you 
 can deliver me that picture here in this room 
 within thirty minutes, without leaving the table 
 or holding verbal or written discourse with any 
 one on the subject, you shall have not only the 
 picture, but the order as well." 
 
 Eureka! I almost fell out of my chair in my 
 excitement, but I managed to draw forth the 
 whistle and give a very mild toot, knowing well 
 that it would carry the short distance I wished. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 207 
 
 Marshall muttered something about "that 
 
 whistle again," but the Senator merely looked at 
 his watch and remarked that I had probably for 
 gotten that we were not in New York, and that 
 many things which might be accomplished there 
 were impossible in a smaller city. 
 
 " You are disposed to hedge, are you, Senator?" 
 I asked. "Not at all not at all," was the reply. 
 "You fulfill your part of the agreement and I 
 certainly shall mine." 
 
 The conversation turned to other matters and 
 we proceeded with the meal. Twenty minutes 
 dragged along I own I thought it was an hour 
 when the Senator drew out his watch again 
 and looked at it while an incredulous smile lit up 
 his face. Silence fell on the group. 
 
 After a moment someone said (I think it was 
 Marshall), "It ll have to get here pretty quick if 
 you are going to win." The words were hardly 
 out of his mouth when the head waiter appeared, 
 closely followed by a tall well-dressed man. The 
 latter with great deliberation apologized for his 
 intrusion and then asked which of the dis 
 tinguished company before him responded to the 
 name of Mr. Harvey Argyle. Almost bursting 
 with impatience I gasped out that I was that 
 
208 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 individual. " In that event," he responded, 
 speaking slowly and in somewhat drawling 
 accents, " I am commissioned to give you this 
 package," and with a low bow he withdrew. 
 
 I seized the precious parcel, tore off the 
 v/rappings and there, sure enough, was the 
 picture. If ever there was a dazed man it was 
 the Senator. However he was as good as his 
 word and signed the bid at once. And if ever 
 there were two angry men they were Meyers and 
 Marshall; but they presently got over it and 
 demanded to be told how it was done. I was 
 just on the point of enlightening them when a 
 loud voice, in unmistakably Hibernian accents, 
 demanding to see the "Guv nor," attracted our 
 attention, and a moment after a highly excited 
 individual who proved to be the Senator s special 
 attendant at his office, was ushered in. He was 
 hatless and coatless and likewise breathless from 
 a long run, but with much gasping and panting 
 he managed to get out his story. It was about 
 as follows: 
 
 "Guv nor, I wuz eatin me dinner me an 
 Flaherty when I heard a racket down the 
 strate, an before you could say Patsy Bolliver, a 
 team drew on to the sidewalk like mad, an four 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 209 
 
 ruffians jumped out an wan stood at the horses 
 hids, an thray cum into the offus, an two sat on 
 me an Flaherty on the hids of us, moind ye 
 an held us down ; an the other felly just took 
 an ransacked the whole place. I think you re 
 robbed, sor, but all we can find gone is that pic 
 ture a hangin over the disk." 
 
 The Senator drew a long breath. "So that s 
 how it happened. Bless me! And I took you 
 for a green country boy!" 
 
 Then Mr. Marshall and Mr. Meyers congratu 
 lated me upon my success. 
 
 I telegraphed Foxey & Co. that I had secured 
 the order, and would arrive home the following 
 day. 
 
 We took the train that evening for New York 
 City, and I entered the office of Foxey & Co. 
 about 2:30 on the following day. I showed 
 them the order signed for $107,000. The two 
 old men embraced each other and danced around 
 the room in a gleeful, boyish way. In the midst 
 of their hilarity two familiar figures stepped into 
 the office and joined them in the dance. On 
 looking at them closely I discovered one was the 
 man whom I had called the ruffian from Louis 
 ville, Kentucky, the hero of the musical contest; 
 
210 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER 
 
 the other was the reporter for the Boston Des 
 patch whom I had left at Sunnyside. 
 
 In the height of the dance I got excited and 
 thought of the times that I had called for country 
 dances, and I yelled, "Honors to your partner 
 and balance all! " They began to do some double 
 shuffle on the corners, and I called out, " First 
 gent to the right!" but instead they sashayed and 
 did some high kicking. When they recovered 
 from their joyous mood they informed me that 
 they had been friends from boyhood and old 
 "knights of the road " together. This accounted 
 for their interest in me. 
 
 Well, I ve been off the road for several years, 
 but I see that the boys are still figuring upon 
 their expense accounts and how they will manage 
 to get the trade at the next town. 
 
A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE IN THE 
 DAYS OF SLAVERY 
 
 The fastest horse does not always win in a 
 race where there is money at stake, but when the 
 hand of a beautiful woman is the prize and men 
 are in deadly earnest as to the result, that is 
 different. 
 
 Away down in the blue hills of old Virginia, 
 nestling among the woods which lined the coun 
 try road, and separated by a distance of several 
 miles, three Southern mansions stood. 
 
 The Parks, Strongs and Sharps, who occupied 
 respectively the three places, had long been 
 recognized as among the first families of the 
 State. 
 
 Dotted here and there on the plantations were 
 the usual negro quarters, and many of the old 
 plantation melodies sung by the darkies living 
 there are still pleasant memories. 
 
 (211) 
 
212 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 I remember one little darkey more particularly 
 than the others, and I will tell you all about him. 
 
 He was a frail coal-black little nigger, slightly 
 deformed, who went by the name of Hunch in 
 fact he never knew any other. He had a sweet, 
 pathetic voice and was the acknowledged leader 
 in the plantation songs and a great favorite with 
 all the darkies as well as with many of the 
 whites, and especially so with his young master, 
 Charley Sharp. 
 
 He did little chores around the house and 
 barns, but was scarcely strong enough for the 
 heavier work of the fields. All the old planta 
 tions had large stables well filled with the finest 
 and fastest horses obtainable, as it was the custom 
 in those days to have races at the County and 
 State Fairs for purses of no small amount, for 
 single-mile dashes, the two best in three to win. 
 The love of the sport was universal and genuine, 
 and each vied with his neighbor in owning and 
 rearing the finest and swiftest strains. 
 
 One of the old planters had a beautiful 
 daughter; the other two each had a son. These 
 three had grown up together to womanhood and 
 manhood just under the lea of those grand old 
 Virginia mountains. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 213 
 
 Helen Strong was the belle of the region, and 
 her hand was sought in marriage by many of the 
 eligible young men in the neighborhood. But to 
 all, excepting Charley Sharp and Allen Parks, 
 the two planters sons, she turned a deaf ear. 
 
 Between these it was a difficult matter to 
 decide ; she admired them both. She longed for 
 some solution of the matter without being respon 
 sible for the decision ; she knew that great rivalry 
 and jealousy existed between them for they 
 avoided meeting each other at her home. Finally, 
 one night there was a chance encounter out on 
 the road and the two young men then and there 
 decided to settle their differences by fighting a 
 duel. 
 
 In some unaccountable way Helen heard of 
 this, and she knew the time had arrived when her 
 choice must be quickly made or the odium of the 
 unhappy affair would rest upon her. 
 
 She thought Allen Parks was the brighter and 
 more interesting of the two. He was tall and 
 handsome, with a somewhat haughty mien, and 
 he made a finer appearance in society than 
 Charley Sharp. Then her thoughts dwelt on 
 Charley s quiet manners, kindly face and loving, 
 tender eyes. She knew he was the^Jaer&et- liked 
 
 /^S***^\ 
 
 ( UNIVERSITY | 
 
214 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 by every one. But Allen Parks showy manners 
 had their attractions, nevertheless, and between 
 these two fires the conscientious girl became 
 almost distracted ; she did not know what to do. 
 In desperation she wrote each one a note, saying 
 that she would never marry a man whose hands 
 were stained with a drop of human blood shed in 
 such a cause, but that she would marry the one 
 who owned the horse which should win the race 
 at the next Fall State Fair. In her simplicity 
 she never dreamed for one moment that the 
 matter would become public. 
 
 The offer proved agreeable to Allen Parks 
 the most aggressive lover of the two for he 
 believed, and it was generally conceded, that he 
 had the fastest horse in the country. 
 
 Helen was aware of this, but thought that per 
 haps was an easier way for her to do than to 
 pain either by a direct refusal from which it may 
 be gathered that the young lady was as yet mis 
 tress of her own affections. 
 
 At first she wanted Allen Parks to win; but 
 when he held her promise in writing to marry the 
 one who should be successful in the race, he felt 
 so sure of her that his natural arrogance began to 
 assert itself, and among other things he demanded 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 215 
 
 that she should not receive Charley Sharp s atten 
 tions. She coolly replied to him, "When you 
 have won the race I will grant your request, not 
 before." 
 
 "I shall win," he responded, "and then you 
 will pay for your insult to me, Mademoiselle!" 
 
 This was too much for Helen, and a spirit of 
 resentment rose high within her. "What right 
 had he to speak so?" she asked herself over and 
 over. Then her thoughts wandered, in spite of 
 herself, to Charley Sharp. Might it not be pos 
 sible for his horse to be trained to win the race? 
 Would she he glad if it should win ? Something 
 whispered, "Yes! a thousand times his, rather 
 than the other s ! " As the days wore on and she 
 realized the difference between the two men she 
 became excited and nervous. She began to under 
 stand the mistake she had made. 
 
 There was no one in whom she could confide, 
 and as the time drew nearer she seemed to be so 
 consumed with anxiety that one evening when 
 Charley Sharp called he took her by the hand 
 and said, " Helen, I have been watching you 
 lately, and you do not seem to be like yourself. 
 Are you worrying over the matter?" Helen s 
 color came and went, but she managed to say, 
 
216 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 "No, Charley." She could not tell him, of all 
 men; but his kind consideration, and perhaps 
 something else showing in his honest eyes, only 
 made her the more anxious for him to win. 
 
 Both suitors had training-tracks upon their 
 plantations. It was now Mid-Summer and the 
 training of their horses began in earnest, as the 
 race was to take place in the Fall. 
 
 Allen Parks horse, "Starlight," was tall, high- 
 headed, nervous and mettlesome, and generally 
 thought to be the fastest horse in the State. 
 
 Charley Sharp s horse, "Mobile," was con 
 sidered the most beautiful horse in all that section. 
 
 Both men had engaged expert white trainers 
 in the hope of getting more speed out of their 
 animals than ever before. 
 
 Little Hunch had heard of the race and of the 
 prize that was to go to the winner, and when he 
 saw the "white trash," as he called the trainer, 
 come along to ride Mobile he felt almost 
 broken-hearted, for he dearly loved his young 
 master and had always ridden his races. Some 
 times he won and sometimes he lost. He was 
 as sharp as a tack and he said to himself, " Marse 
 Sharp fraid to risk me, but I ll jes show im an 
 dat white trash dah ain t no flies on dis nigger, 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 217 
 
 an I ll win dis race, To Gord I will! Marse 
 Charley lubs Missy Helen, an I ll show white 
 trash what dis nigger can do!" 
 
 He was a faithful little darkey and he felt grieved 
 to have his master turn him down in the most 
 important race of his life. 
 
 Some years prior to the events we have been 
 narrating old planter Sharp had attended a horse 
 sale. He had the misfortune, as he at that time 
 thought, of having knocked down to him a 
 homely looking colt. He just bid on the colt to 
 help a friend out, never dreaming for a moment 
 that he would get it, especially at such a low 
 figure. But he did, and he never liked the colt 
 because he was compelled to take him, and so 
 he put him in the plow younger than was his 
 usual custom with horses of his own raising. 
 When the new acquisition was first brought to 
 the plantation little Hunch took charge of him; 
 it appeared to be a case of love at first sight 
 between the darkey and the colt. Hunch named 
 him " Little Ben," and he would steal and lie 
 for the colt while, as far as other things were 
 concerned, he was generally honest and truthful. 
 He would take the cleanest straw for his bedding 
 and the best hay and grain to feed him. 
 
218 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 Little Ben was a quiet, intelligent colt dark 
 bay in color, with large, sad looking eyes set wide 
 apart in his broad forehead, long bodied, with 
 legs flat and strong and straight as a tightly 
 drawn line, and with well formed hips and 
 shoulders to match. His head was large, neck 
 short and thick, but what he lacked in beauty he 
 fully made up in intelligence. All Hunch s spare 
 time was spent with his pet colt. 
 
 Many a time he was heard holding a one-sided 
 conversation with Little Ben out in the stable. 
 They had been together so much that the colt 
 appeared to understand him. He was often seen 
 fishing out of his ragged pants pockets with his 
 black monkey-like hands dirty crusts of bread, or 
 an apple, which he gave to the little horse; and 
 many a time when his master was not around he 
 would steal out to the training-track and put his 
 pet through his paces. 
 
 When the horse was about four years old the 
 old master ordered him to be put in the plow. 
 This nearly broke the poor little darkey s heart. 
 He would follow him to the fields and pull grass 
 from the fence corners, bringing it to him, and 
 would carry him water from the brook. Little 
 Ben always welcomed his friend with a peculiar 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 219 
 
 whinney, as though expecting some tempting 
 morsel. He was a willing colt and the darkies 
 noticed that his single-tree in the plow was 
 always a little ahead of any horse he worked 
 with, and he soon became a general favorite with 
 all the negroes on the plantation. 
 
 Little Ben was now six years old, and the hard 
 straw collar had worn the mane off of his neck 
 where it rested, and the rough iron plow chains 
 had see-sawed on his sides till there was no hair 
 where they rubbed. 
 
 One night Charley Sharp happened to be in 
 the barn late, brooding over the matter which 
 rested so heavily on his heart, when he heard a 
 voice. It appeared to come from Ben s stall, so 
 he crept noiselessly in that direction, and sure 
 enough, the little darkey was holding communion 
 with his equine friend. 
 
 " I jes guess yo done plow bout nuff; yo 
 doan do dat no mo . We gwine fix dis race so 
 dat po gal doan cry her heart out no mo ; an po 
 Marse Charley looks if he neber smile gin. 
 Fo long I jes has to tell him bout suffin we 
 knows bout." 
 
 The peroration ended with a low command, 
 accompanied by the rattle of a plow chain, and 
 
220 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 the sound of what appeared to be the horse s feet 
 executing some kind of a double shuffle. 
 
 The young man s curiosity was aroused. What 
 in the very mischief could the little darkey be 
 doing? He moved so as to get a better view. 
 Hunch heard his step, and the exhibition or 
 whatever it was came to an abrupt termination. 
 
 Now Charley Sharp had made up his mind that 
 the prospect of winning his bride, if it depended 
 upon Mobile, was gloomy in the extreme. His 
 greatest efforts and those of his trainer had failed 
 to develop the speed he expected, while from 
 time to time rumors were circulated of the almost 
 miraculous performances of Starlight. It was 
 small wonder if despondency and hopelessness 
 seized him in a grasp it was impossible to shake 
 off. 
 
 He approached the stall and looked over. 
 Nothing unusual was to be seen. He spoke to 
 Hunch and then patted the animal. What was 
 this? The horse s sleek coat was covered with 
 a profuse perspiration. 
 
 "What have you been doing to Ben, Hunch?" 
 he asked. 
 
 But Hunch s plans were not quite ready yet to 
 be revealed, so he answered readily enough: 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 221 
 
 "Nuffin , sah, nuffin ; Ben got little cramp; I 
 rubbin him down," and he briskly suited the 
 action to the word. 
 
 Charley turned away, but Hunch followed him; 
 there was evidently something on his mind, and 
 he didn t know exactly how to set about unbur 
 dening himself. Finally he spoke : 
 
 " Marse Charley, dat hoss ob yours, he ain t no 
 account." 
 
 This was so palpably the truth, if he was refer 
 ring to Mobile, that Charley thought it useless to 
 answer. 
 
 After a moment the darkey summoned up cour 
 age and again returned to the attack : 
 
 "Marse Char ley, I say dat hoss Mobile he ain t 
 no account nohow!" 
 
 "What makes you think so?" 
 
 " Kase I done watch im watch im close. He 
 no good gainst Starlight." Then, getting closer 
 to his master and looking up into his face, " Marse 
 Charley, tell Hunch one ting yo want win dis 
 race? Yo want im so bad de sun he dark fo 
 eber mo yo lose?" 
 
 Good Heavens! what was the boy driving at? 
 The question, simple at it was, had pierced a fes 
 tering sore in his heart, and his only response was 
 
222 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 a groan, but it was sufficient answer for Hunch, 
 who proceeded : 
 
 "Fo Gord, Marse Charley, fo Gord, sah, yo 
 shall win im; yo shall fo shuah!" 
 
 The man turned almost fiercely on the boy. 
 
 "What do you mean? What do you know 
 about it anyhow?" 
 
 " Nuffin , sah, nuffin ; I doan know nuffin . 
 Missy Helen she bin mighty good to some po 
 darkies; I like do suffin fo her." 
 
 "You say, Hunch, Miss Helen was kind to 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, sah; I rode ole Tom, de big team hoss, 
 ober dar to borrow a bridle fo ole Marse Sharp, 
 an ole Tom step on my byah foot an mash it 
 awful bad, an Missy Helen come right out her 
 self an put suffin on it an tied im up. She 
 awful good to me, Marse Charley, an I fou t 
 mebbe sometime I could do suffin fo hur." 
 
 This kindness to the little darkey showed 
 another side of Helen s character to him and he 
 loved her more than ever. 
 
 Hunch had now found out all he wanted to 
 know from his young master; his next move was 
 to take Little Ben from the plow as he had 
 promised the horse he d do. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 223 
 
 That night Hunch was seen to go to the door 
 of his old master s house. He placed his hand 
 upon the latch and then withdrew it, as though 
 undecided whether to enter or not. The master, 
 hearing someone outside, called, "Who s there?" 
 
 " Little Hunch, Massa Sharp," was the reply. 
 
 "Well, Hunch, what do you want?" the master 
 inquired. 
 
 "Massa Sharp, I wants to tell you suffin awful 
 bad." Hunch all this time was opening the door 
 very slowly and getting a little nearer to the lie 
 he was going to tell. 
 
 "Why don t you come in, you black rascal? 
 Come in, I say!" 
 
 "Well, Massa, I se a comin an I wants to tell 
 you suffin awful bad." 
 
 "Well, what is it, Hunch? Out with it." 
 
 "Well, Massa Sharp, fo Gord! Little Ben is 
 de lamest hoss you eber se, an I fou t you d like 
 to know it." 
 
 "Oh, blast that infernal plug!" the old man 
 shouted, walking up and down. "I ll sell him 
 to-morrow before the sun goes down!" 
 
 This was an unexpected termination of his 
 well-laid plans, and the little darkey almost turned 
 white. He left the old man s room with a heavy 
 
224 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 heart and skulked off down the walk, " Little 
 Ben s no plug; he got more sense dis bery min 
 ute den ole Massa Sharp has an I ll show some 
 ob dem high-toned plugs yet he can outrun dem, 
 wid de po white trash on dey back. Let im 
 sen a hoss buyer out here to buy Little Ben and 
 he ll be de lamest hoss dey eber seen." 
 
 Sure enough, old planter Sharp went to town 
 the next day and sent out a horse buyer to look 
 at Little Ben. He told the buyer the horse was 
 slightly lame but otherwise he was all right, and 
 if he wanted to buy him he could have him for 
 fifty dollars. 
 
 Hunch did not know that any definite proposi 
 tion had been made to anyone for the sale of the 
 horse, but he proposed that, if any would-be pur 
 chaser did arrive, Hunch, and no one else should 
 be the one to show the animal. Accordingly, he 
 watched every avenue of approach to the house, 
 and waylaying the unsuspecting man before he 
 had an opportunity to see the overseer, or any 
 other authorized person, conducted him to the 
 stables. 
 
 The buyer came and when he was nearing the 
 barn he spied little Hunch and called to him to 
 come and show him the lame horse that his old 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 225 
 
 master had sent him out to buy for fifty dollars. 
 Little Hunch approached the stable with unsteady 
 steps for fear Little Ben would fail to perform 
 his part of the programme, as he had planned. 
 
 As the young schemer opened the stable door 
 he walked directly behind Ben to where there 
 was a chain plow harness hanging on a pin. 
 
 Hunch said to the buyer, "Dis is de harness 
 wot de hoss use to work in fo he got too lame," 
 and so saying he grasped the plow chains and 
 gave them a resounding rattle. At the same 
 time he passed quickly into the stall and released 
 the halter strap ; then in backing out he managed 
 to forcibly collide with the chains again, and 
 sent them banging against the wall. 
 
 Sure enough Little Ben came limping out of 
 the stall as if he were the most decrepit old horse 
 on earth. Hunch chuckled gleefully. 
 
 "Which leg is he lame in?" the buyer inquired. 
 
 "In boff of dem," Hunch quickly responded, 
 at the same time giving the chains another rattle. 
 True to his training Little Ben changed his tac 
 tics and began hobbling around on another foot. 
 
 The man looked the horse over, then pulled out 
 a piece of money and gave it to the boy. " Now, 
 my lad, you know all about this horse?" 
 
226 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 "Yes sah," Hunch replied. 
 
 "Then tell me exactly what is the matter with 
 him." The buyer evidently had a kind of sus 
 picion that the old planter was trying to cheat 
 him. 
 
 " If I tells yo an Massa Sharp foun it out 
 dere would be a nigger fun ral on dis plantation, 
 and dis ere nigger would be at de head ob de 
 procession to de grabe." 
 
 "Then you mean to tell me the horse is of no 
 use?" "No sah," Hunch replied, at the same 
 time looking anxiously around to see if Ben had 
 noticed what was being said of him. Then Hunch 
 went to the door, glanced up and down to be sure 
 no one was within hearing, and then beckoned 
 the buyer away back to a secluded spot in the 
 barn. 
 
 When they had reached a place which Hunch 
 thought safe from other ears he said, "Massa! 
 dis nigger am de biggest liar on dis plantation if 
 dat hoss doan hab fits." 
 
 The buyer gave the darkey another piece of 
 money, for he thought that he had saved him from 
 being swindled, and with a promise to Hunch not 
 to tell anyone, he went away, saying uncompli 
 mentary things about one who would try to sell a 
 horse that had fits. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 
 
 Now the intense earnestness of the darkey 
 when he assured his master that he should win 
 the race had deeply impressed the young man. 
 He could not fathom the negro s meaning, but 
 he resolved to watch his performances with the 
 horse in the hopes that perhaps something might 
 transpire to brighten his prospects. It so happened 
 that the disappointed buyer had hardly ridden 
 away when young Sharp entered the stable. 
 Hunch and his four-footed friend were indulging 
 in manifestations of joy at least Hunch was, 
 and we will have to suppose, from his actions, that 
 the horse was equally interested. Neither per 
 ceived the presence of the third party. Hunch, 
 armed with a pair of old plow chains, was walking 
 proudly back and forth, the horse at his heels. 
 Suddenly there would be a sharp rattle of the 
 chains the horse would limp as though a leg 
 were broken; another rattle the limp would be 
 changed to some other foot ; a swing of the arm 
 the horse went on his knees, or perhaps up in 
 the air pirouetting on his hind feet. Then there 
 would be a period of rest, during which Hunch 
 would embrace the animal in an ecstasy of delight 
 and Little Ben s nose would inevitably search out 
 the reward lying hidden within the ragged depths 
 of Hunch s pockets. 
 
228 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 To say that Sharp was astonished at what he 
 saw would but mildly express his feelings. Was 
 it possible that the negro had some secret in 
 connection with the horse? It was at best but 
 the proverbial straw. Still, the darkey might 
 know of something important, and as he had 
 vowed that he should win the race, Sharp resolved 
 to await developments with what patience he 
 might. 
 
 As the horse buyer did not purchase Little 
 Ben, and as the old planter was to be away for 
 several days, Hunch thought that he had better 
 improve the opportunity. He had succeeded in 
 scaring one buyer off but he might not be so 
 successful with the next, and he knew he must 
 do something at once. 
 
 To tell his young master that he had stolen his 
 horse out one moonlight night and run him 
 against Little Ben, and that Little Ben had 
 beaten him would have been the height of folly. 
 He knew his young master s pride would not 
 admit of his either listening to or believing it for 
 one moment. He knew he must confide in some 
 one, but not in his master. Then he thought of 
 Miss Helen, of how kind she had been to him. 
 If she loved his young master he would find it 
 out and then tell her his plans. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 220 
 
 So one evening he slipped away over to Miss 
 Helen s, muttering as he went, "Little Ben a 
 plug! fifty dollars fo a hoss dats got mo sense 
 dan ole Massa Sharp has!" When he arrived at 
 the Strong plantation Helen was standing on 
 the porch; she seemed to be lost in gloomy 
 thoughts. 
 
 At the approach of little Hunch she went down 
 to the gate to meet him, for she thought that 
 possibly he had a note for her or some word from 
 Charley Sharp at least she hoped so. 
 
 Hunch felt guilty of doing something wrong 
 and he approached very slowly, hardly knowing 
 how to open the conversation or to lead up to the 
 point he had in view. Finally Helen called to 
 him, "Hurry up, Hunch!" 
 
 " She finks I done got a note fo her, I guess," 
 thought Hunch. He had upon more than one 
 occasion been the bearer of missives between the 
 two. 
 
 "She mus lub im o she wouldn t want me to 
 hurry up wid de note; or mebbe dat Starlight 
 feller is in dar an she wants to git de note out 
 here." 
 
230 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 " Hunch, got a note for me?" she asked, just 
 a little impatiently. 
 
 "No, Missy Helen." 
 
 "Anything happened, Hunch? 
 
 "No, Missy Helen." 
 
 "Then what do you want here?" 
 
 "I wants to tell you suffin , Missy Helen." 
 
 There was something so disconsolate about the 
 tone of Hunch s voice that the young lady 
 immediately jumped to the conclusion that it 
 must concern the only person in whom she was 
 interested. Stepping quickly up to him she 
 said: 
 
 "Hunch, tell me at once what it is." 
 
 With his coal-black eyes fixed on her face in 
 solemn gaze, Hunch asked, "Does you lub Marse 
 Charley, Missy Helen?" 
 
 "Oh! yes, Hunch, I do. What has happened 
 to him?" she moaned. 
 
 "Well, den if yo lub him doan yo cry, Missy 
 Helen; he ll win the race." 
 
 " How do you know he will ? Did he send you?" 
 
 "No, Missy Helen, he doan know I come; 
 I wants to tell yo suffin , Missy Helen." 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 231 
 
 By this time Helen had worked herself up to 
 a high pitch of excitement and she demanded to 
 know his mission at once. But it was not until 
 she had promised that she would in no event 
 reveal the secret to Master Charley until Hunch 
 should give his consent, that this worthy pro 
 ceeded, "Well, Missy Helen, I wants to borrow 
 fifty dollars." This so surprised Helen that she 
 laughed outright. 
 
 "I loan you fifty dollars?" 
 
 Hunch replied, "I will pay yo back fo de Fair 
 come off shuh, its not fo long." 
 
 Helen thought a moment and she came to the 
 conclusion that the darkey must know of some 
 thing favorable to her and his young master or 
 he would not have made such an extraordinary 
 request. She knew Hunch was as faithful as he 
 was black. Perhaps the laugh grated on the 
 negro s tender susceptibilities; at any rate he took 
 it as a denial and turned away. As he did so he 
 suddenly seemed to realize all the loan meant to 
 him ; he would lose his pet horse and his young 
 master something of far greater value. It 
 was too much for poor Hunch, and he burst into 
 
232 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 tears. Helen called to him, "Hunch if I loan you 
 the fifty dollars, will you pay me back sure ? " 
 
 "Shuh, Missy Helen, To de Fair comes off. " 
 
 " If I let you have it, will you tell me what you 
 are going to do with it ?" 
 
 Hunch, his face beaming with delight at the 
 change in his fortunes, said that he would. She 
 went into the house and soon returned with the 
 money, saying as she gave it to him, "Now, 
 Hunch, you hold some kind of a secret, and I 
 believe it interests me." 
 
 "Yes, Missy, it does. You see, Missy Helen, 
 ole Massa Sharp want to sell Little Ben fo fifty 
 dollars, an he had a hoss buyer ober dar an 
 I tole im de hoss was lame an he didn t took im, 
 an I wants to gib de money to ole Massa Sharp 
 an tell im de man will come fo de hoss after 
 de Fair am ober." 
 
 "Hunch, what on earth are you going to do 
 with that plug at the State Fair, where all the 
 fastest and most beautiful horses will be?" 
 
 "Missy Helen, please doan call Little Ben a 
 plug. Missy Helen, I jes wants to ax yo a 
 question do yo lub young Marse Charley?" 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 233 
 
 "Yes, Hunch, with all my heart; but what is 
 that to you, Hunch?" 
 
 "Well, if yo lubs im I wants yo to hab im, 
 an dat high-toned plug ob his will neber win yo 
 at de race." 
 
 "You think not? 1 
 
 " I know he can t." 
 
 "Well, Hunch, what has the fifty dollars and 
 Little Ben got to do with me and your young 
 master?" 
 
 "Missy Helen, fo Gord! Little Ben can beat 
 Starlight." 
 
 "What!" she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, he can." 
 
 "How do you know?" Helen inquired, and as 
 she thought of all it might mean to her she began 
 to tremble and her voice choked. 
 
 "Doan cry, Missy Helen, Little Ben can win 
 de race, fo Gord he can." 
 
 "Tell me, how do you know this?" 
 
 "Listen, den, doan tell anyone now, will yo ?" 
 
 " No, I won t, Hunch," Helen promised. She 
 was willing enough to make any promise, for she 
 knew from what Charley Sharp had told her that 
 
234 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 his horse had not developed the speed he 
 expected he would have done under a professional 
 trainer and rider. 
 
 "Well, Missy Helen, I know d Marse Sharp s 
 horse was slo on de track, fo I watched im, an 
 one moonlight night when Marse Sharp was ober 
 har I stole de high-toned plug out, and I rode im 
 an anudder nigger rode Little Ben. We took 
 dem out on de track an got an eben start, an 
 jes laid de whip on de high-toned plug, but de 
 nigger on Little Ben he jes said, Hur y up, Little 
 Ben, hur y up ! and yo ought to see Little Ben 
 run way from dat fine trained hoss jes like he 
 was standin still." 
 
 This was bad news for Helen, for she knew 
 Starlight was a very fast horse, and the thought 
 of a plug horse beating him never crossed her 
 mind. Suppose that Little Ben had beaten 
 Mobile, it would not prove that he could beat 
 Starlight. 
 
 "Now, Missy Helen," Hunch continued, "please 
 doan tell my Marse Charley, fo he s too proud 
 to let Little Ben run in dat race. Don say nuffin 
 till I shows im dat Little Ben has de speed." 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 235 
 
 Helen concluded to let the little darkey have 
 his way and see what the result would be. 
 Hunch returned home light-hearted enough, for 
 he felt sure now he could save his pet horse from 
 being sold and was equally sure that his young 
 master, when he knew of Little Ben s speed, 
 would refund the fifty dollars to Miss Helen, as 
 he had promised should be done before the Fair. 
 It was necessary that Charley Sharp should own 
 the horse which he entered in the race. He felt 
 sure that Little Ben would be the winner, but he 
 feared he would have some trouble with his old 
 master over the horse. 
 
 The next morning Hunch was up bright and 
 early and watching for his old master in the 
 yard for he had returned the night before. 
 Sure enough, as Mr. Sharp saw Hunch he said, 
 "Well, Hunch, did that horse buyer take that 
 lame plug?" 
 
 "No, Massa," Hunch quickly replied, "he did 
 not, but anudder man did an he left fifty dollars 
 wid me to gib yo an he said he d call in a week 
 or two an tek im way." Then Hunch handed 
 over the money. The old man looked at it, then 
 
236 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 at Hunch, in a suspicious manner, which made 
 the darkey feel that his ruse was discovered. 
 
 His master said, "What kind of a looking man 
 was it who bought the horse?" 
 
 The question stunned Hunch for a minute, but 
 he recovered quickly and replied, "Dat man 
 didn t look like de man dat come furst fo* de 
 hoss." 
 
 "Well, then, who did he look like?" 
 
 " I doan know, Massa; he look like he wanted 
 de hoss, or he wouldn t leff de money fo yo ." 
 
 "Was he a horse buyer?" 
 
 "Well, he bought dat one, but he didn t ax if 
 yo had any mo to sell." 
 
 "Well, I m really glad that plug is sold off my 
 hands, and here s a dollar, Hunch, for you making 
 the sale, but see that the plug is here no longer 
 than two weeks on this plantation." 
 
 " I will, Massa Sharp," and Hunch skipped off 
 to the barn to tell Little Ben all about it. He 
 fully believed the horse understood all that he 
 said to him, for he possessed almost human intel 
 ligence, and Hunch had been with him every 
 moment that he could for four years. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 237 
 
 Charley Sharp happened to be in the stable as 
 Hunch entered, and in the expectation that 
 perhaps another trick performance would occur, 
 secreted himself to await developments. 
 
 Little Hunch entered the barn with a half 
 cakewalk and a shuffle, saying, "I ll show dem 
 po white trash dey can t come down in ole Vir- 
 ginny an tell us niggers nuffin bout hoss-racin ; 
 an if I can get Marse Charley to leab me go on 
 de track wid Little Ben an run wid dat high- 
 tone plug o his we ll make soup grease out ob 
 dat po white trash dat rides de hoss fo im. 
 If I beat im den I runs de race fo Marse 
 Charley an wins Miss Helen fo im. He bin 
 mighty good to me an I ll win dat race o dar ll 
 be one ob de biggest nigger fun rals dat eber 
 was in ole Virginny." 
 
 Little Hunch by this time had got to where 
 Little Ben stood, and as the horse whinnied his 
 delight at his approach and nosed his frowsy 
 head when he got up to him, Hunch stroked his 
 mane and said, " Little Ben, yo jes longs to me 
 now; ole Massa Sharp has got de money fo yo 
 and yo plows no mo , an if I takes you on de 
 
238 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 track wid any high-tone plug an tells yo to 
 Hur y up, Little Ben, hur y up! yo must hur y up 
 quick an win de race or yo ll go in de plow agin." 
 
 What young Sharp had heard puzzled him. 
 " Hunch bought the horse and paid for him ? 
 Where in the deuce did he get the money? And 
 he wants to run that old scrub against my beauti 
 ful horse? Well, he seems so positive I think 
 the nigger must have a secret of some kind and 
 I ll find it out. I won t let him know I m here. 
 I ll slip out, and take him out on the track with 
 me to-day when I go, and see what there is in 
 that old plug." Charley was something like 
 Helen he was willing enough to try anything 
 now to win the race. So that afternoon when 
 Hunch met his young master at the stable the 
 latter said, "Well, Hunch, father tells me that 
 plug you claim was sold." 
 
 "Yissah; he is." 
 
 "Who bought him?" 
 
 "Marse Charley, if yo ll lemme run ober de 
 track to-day wid yo , I ll tell yo ." 
 
 "Do you think that old plug can run?" This 
 nettled Hunch. Drawing himself up with all the 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 239 
 
 dignity of which he was capable, he replied, 
 "Marse Charley, fo Gord he can beat yo hoss, 
 for shuh he can!" 
 
 "Preposterous! What makes you think so?" 
 
 "Will yo lemme run wid you?" 
 
 "Yes, Hunch, get ready and we ll be off for the 
 track." 
 
 "Hunch," his young master asked after they 
 had mounted, "where were you last night?" 
 
 Hunch thought a moment : " I went coon- 
 huntin wid de Strong niggers." 
 
 "Did you see Miss Helen?" 
 
 "Yis sah." 
 
 "Did she ask about me?" 
 
 "Yis sah. She axed did I hab a note fo hur 
 from yo . I tole her no. Marse Charley, she 
 looked so good stanin dar in de moonlight, an 
 de man in de moon look like he felt so ry fo hur, 
 an hur eyes jes look like two stars in de sky wid 
 little white clouds flo tin befo dem, lettin 
 down little drops ob rain, when she axed me 
 bout yo ." 
 
 Young Sharp turned his head so that the little 
 darkey could not see his moistened eyes. 
 
240 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 The two had now arrived at the training-track, 
 and Sharp said, "To-day I shall lash my horse, 
 and that means I ll put on the whip to get all the 
 speed he has in him," and then laughingly added, 
 "You can run over the track and see how close 
 you can keep to us, but I won t agree to wait 
 anywhere for you to catch up." 
 
 "Marse Charley," Hunch replied, "if Little 
 Ben can t beat dat high-tone plug ob yo rs wid- 
 out layin on de whip, den de man won t take 
 
 im." 
 
 "Hunch, what do you mean? You seem to be 
 very confident Little Ben can beat Mobile." 
 
 "Well, I m not sartin, but I jes wants to see." 
 
 As they toed the mark for a start his young 
 master said, " Hunch, wake that plug up before I 
 fire the shot for the start." 
 
 "Neber mind dat, Marse Charley, he ain t 
 sleep, he jes makes b lieve he s sleep. Yo ll fin 
 im wake nuf to beat yo r high-toned hoss wid 
 dat po white trash on his back." 
 
 Charley fired the shot and off they went. Little 
 Ben, apparently without exertion, took the lead 
 from the start. To Charley Sharp s great 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 241 
 
 surprise, his horse was distanced in the mile 
 dash. As the riders returned Charley said, 
 " Well, Hunch, you must tell me how you knew 
 that you could outrun my horse." 
 
 "Marse Charley, I jes 1 took yo hoss out one 
 moonlight night an run im on de track wid 
 Little Ben, an I rode im, an he done better n he 
 do to-day." 
 
 " Hunch, who owns that horse ? " 
 
 "I do," was the quick reply. 
 
 Now Hunch, where did you get the money 
 to pay for him ? " 
 
 Hunch thought for a moment, " Mebbe de 
 party doan want yo to know. Marse Charley, 
 you go an see Missy Helen to-night; she knows 
 who lent me de money." 
 
 "Hunch, did Helen Strong lend you the 
 money?" 
 
 " Yis sah, when I tole her I stole yo hoss out 
 an Little Ben beat im she loaned me de money. 
 She doan want to marry dat highflier; he s so 
 stiff he d break in two if anybody hit im wid a 
 snowball, an I tink he s bin mean to Missy 
 Helen." 
 
242 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 The fact that Helen had advanced the money 
 to buy the horse upon the faint hope that by some 
 chance he might possibly win showed so plainly 
 where her wishes lay that for a minute young 
 Sharp was speechless. He turned his back on 
 Hunch and walked away. Hunch was undecided 
 as to whether he was angry or not. But presently 
 after having mastered his emotion, he returned 
 and simply said: 
 
 " Well Hunch, what do you want me to do now? * 
 
 " I wants yo to go ober an pay Missy Helen 
 dat fifty dollars to-night, den yo will own de hoss 
 an I will win de race fo yo shuh, Marse Charley. 
 
 That night Charley went over to see Helen. 
 There was much he wanted to say to her. It 
 must be remembered that the episode of the fifty 
 dollars was the first real intimation he had ever 
 received of the actual state of that young lady s 
 feelings, and this had transpired in such a way 
 that it was evidently intended that he should have 
 no knowledge of it until after the race was over. 
 With a wisdom born of his regard for both, 
 Hunch, however, had let out the secret, and 
 Charley s whole soul longed for the meeting. He 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 243 
 
 knew there could be no reservation between them 
 after the act that spoke more plainly than 
 words. 
 
 The fine old house nestling among the trees 
 never looked more beautiful to the young man 
 than on that evening. The glory of the moon 
 light seemed to bathe the world in splendor, and 
 deep down in his heart something was singing in 
 unison with it all something that made him a 
 happier and a better man. 
 
 A long shaft of mellow light pierced the trees 
 just by the gate as he rode up, and rested upon a 
 slight form waiting patiently there. Charley knew 
 intuitively who it was. The words he had intended 
 to say flew to the four winds. He sprang from 
 his horse and took her in his arms, and Helen 
 forgot the days and nights of harrowing anxiety ; 
 forgot the ordeal that was yet to come; forgot, 
 in fact, everything in the world, except the strong 
 arms which were around her. 
 
 After a time they came back to mundane 
 things. Charley was the first to speak. 
 
 "Sweetheart," he said, " I found out about that 
 fifty dollars." 
 
244 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 " You big goosey ! I knew you had by the way 
 you jumped off your horse." 
 
 "And I want to thank you. I don t think I 
 shall ever forget what lay behind the act. Here 
 is the money, and I am going to pay an interest 
 on the loan which may seem out of all propor 
 tion." And he proceeded to do so. 
 
 " But Charley, what do you think of Hunch s 
 plan? Is it at all probable that Little Ben has 
 the speed he claims for him?" 
 
 "Well," the young man said, "of course it is 
 uncertain; but the little horse is a wonder to me; 
 he shows great speed and superior intelligence as 
 well. I raced him to-day with my horse and he 
 distanced Mobile without an effort, I will admit, 
 and I fully believe he can beat Starlight/ 
 
 At that Helen clapped her hands for joy and 
 said, "Are you sure you want him to win?" 
 She looked so pleading and so beautiful that 
 Charley had recourse to his former tactics, which 
 had been so successful in sealing her lips; then 
 after a time, looking more serious, he said, "I 
 would give the world to have him win you for 
 me. But, Helen, shall I ask you to be won by a 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 245 
 
 plow horse, and a homely one at that, with the 
 mane worn off his neck where the old straw 
 collar has rested, and with his sides chafed bare 
 where he has worn the plow chains? It does not 
 seem right; I am ashamed to enter him in the 
 race against such a beauty as Starlight, with 
 Parks splendid equipment for his horse and 
 rider. I don t believe Little Ben would win with 
 anyone riding him but Hunch, and Hunch will 
 not change his own garb or put anything on the 
 horse except what he has been training him in 
 a flimsy bridle and an old, dirty surcingle which 
 I discarded long ago; Hunch is afraid if he puts 
 on airs, as he calls it, he might lose the race." 
 
 Helen sweetly asked, "Charley, do you care 
 enough for me to enter a horse and rider which 
 can win regardless of looks?" 
 
 "Of course I do, but I don t want to humiliate 
 you." 
 
 " It will not humiliate me," she said, " I shall 
 be proud to sit in the grand stand and watch the 
 race. Would you not rather lose trying than lose 
 not trying? If you win you will save me from a 
 tyrant s clutches. Little Hunch loves you, Charley; 
 
246 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 he tells me you have been so kind to him, and he 
 will win, I feel sure. He is a faithful little fellow, 
 and if he and Little Ben win they must be cared 
 for all the rest of their days." 
 
 So it was agreed that the little darkey was to 
 have full charge of the race, to win or to lose. 
 
 As there was only one more week before the 
 momentous event it was decided between Helen 
 and Charley that this would be the last time they 
 would meet until after the race. That evening 
 their parting was one which neither ever forgot. 
 Only the great oak under which they stood and 
 the bright soft moonlight peeping through its 
 branches witnessed the mortal agony which 
 wrung these two loyal hearts, for the future was 
 dark before them. 
 
 The next day preparations began in earnest for 
 the race. Sharp, of course, kept secret the horse 
 he was going to enter, as he thought it best not 
 to let it be known until the animal was led upon 
 the track. 
 
 Finally the great day arrived. Thousands 
 gathered from far and near to witness the most 
 novel way ever known to decide a love affair 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 247 
 
 and at the same time to see one of the most 
 hotly contested races ever witnessed, as in this 
 case the fastest horse was sure to win, and it had 
 been decided by the judges to permit but two 
 entries in the race. 
 
 There were many comments made by the 
 people before the horses made their appearance 
 relative to their speed and beauty. All freely 
 admitted that they were both beautiful, but there 
 could be but one conclusion as to the result of the 
 race, and that was that Starlight, Allen Parks 
 horse, would win, unless Mobile had increased 
 very much in speed since the last race. 
 
 The track was just a mile around, and a horse 
 to win must run three times around, or three 
 miles, with a rest after each mile, winning two 
 heats out of the three. 
 
 The grand stand was placed some three hun 
 dred feet back toward the circle of the track, and 
 the large amphitheater was packed to overflow 
 ing. 
 
 A few moments before the-time announced for 
 starting the horses Helen Strong, the belle of 
 old Virginia, was escorted to the grand stand by 
 
248 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 her father, where she could see the whole per 
 formance. She was a tall, golden-haired girl; 
 her large eyes were serious, with those strange 
 dark spots in them which really made them beau 
 tiful. Ordinarily she was a trifle pale, but her 
 face had a trick of lighting up with a rare smile 
 which made her wonderfully attractive. To-day 
 her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her 
 lips had a pathetic curve of fear that had never 
 rested on them before. 
 
 Allen Parks was the first of the participants to 
 arrive and he was followed by Starlight, his 
 rider and a suite of attendants. 
 
 Then after a few moments had elapsed people 
 naturally began to look around for the other 
 entry. Where was Charley Sharp? Where was 
 Mobile? Neither had as yet appeared and the 
 waiting crowd grew impatient. At this instant 
 Hunch walked out on the track and took his 
 place before the judges stand. An old grain 
 sack was thrown over his shoulders; behind him 
 meekly followed Little Ben. 
 
 Hunch was a familiar figure to almost every 
 one there, and when he paused expectantly before 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 249 
 
 the judges, yells went up from the near-by crowd : 
 " Hello, Hunch ! what are you going to do with 
 that plug?" The darkey turned and faced the 
 packed audience, and with a look on his face no 
 one had ever seen before, his black eyes gleam 
 ing, said, " I se gwine to win de race." A 
 cyclone roar went up from the crowd and some 
 one called to him, " Better have the thing weather- 
 boarded." " Where did you get that cow?" came 
 from another, while jeers and hoots were hurled 
 from all directions. But they might as well have 
 been thrown at a stone wall as at Hunch, who 
 turned again to the judges stand, laid down the 
 old sack he was carrying and remarked that he 
 was ready. 
 
 "Ready for what?" one of the judges asked. 
 
 "Fo 1 de race." 
 
 "Well, where is your horse?" 
 
 " Here s de hoss." 
 
 "What, that thing to run against Star 
 light?" 
 
 "Dis, gen lemen, is de hoss dats to beat de 
 high-tone plug wid de po white trash on his 
 back." 
 
250 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 That was the first intimation Allen Parks had 
 that Mobile was not to run in the race, and he at 
 once formally protested against the entry of Little 
 Ben, declaring that it was an intentional insult to 
 him, and that, in any event, Sharp must appear 
 and stand sponsor for his horse. The judges 
 recognized the force of the argument and sent for 
 Charley. When he stepped out before them to 
 acknowledge the entry there was something about 
 his pale face and determined bearing which awed 
 the crowd ; the hoots and catcalls ceased. Parks 
 had no alternative but to accept the issue, yet, as 
 he turned to his followers he said, in a sufficiently 
 loud tone to be overheard in the grand stand, " I 
 shall soon be in a position to make young Sharp 
 regret this insult." And she for whose ear it was 
 intended shuddered. 
 
 Comparing the appearance of the two horses, 
 their riders and equipments, it did seem very 
 much like an intentional affront to Allen Parks. 
 His horse was a beautiful light chestnut sorrel, 
 high-headed and a lofty-looking fellow. His 
 bridle and saddle were of the latest improved 
 racing pattern, and his rider was dressed in all 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 251 
 
 the colors of the rainbow; taking it altogether 
 they made a handsome picture with their score of 
 attendants. 
 
 Little Ben had, as previously described, only a 
 common bridle on his head and an old surcingle 
 around his body, just back of his forelegs, with a 
 handloop on each side of the center of his back. 
 Hunch stood there looking as he had for many 
 months past on the plantation barefooted and 
 bareheaded, with the same old ragged pants with 
 the deep pockets that he had worn many a day 
 while training his faithful horse. No amount of 
 persuasion could induce him to change, for he 
 said Little Ben knew him best that way, and if 
 he fixed up and put on a new bridle and saddle, 
 "he may scar an not min me, an I wants to 
 win de race. I doan care what folks say, I on y 
 wants to win for Missy Helen and Marse Char 
 ley, an den Little Ben will plow no mo ." 
 
 All this time remarks could be heard from the 
 crowd in the amphitheater and along the fence 
 that separated them from the track, such as: 
 
 "That is the kind of a horse I d get if I was 
 going to run a race for a wife," speaking of 
 
252 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 Starlight. "Well, you d never win her," another 
 would reply; "some one is going to be fooled on 
 that little horse, you mind if they don t." 
 
 An old man, apparently a stranger, standing 
 there listening to the comments, but with his eyes 
 intently fixed on Little Ben, turned to a disputative 
 neighbor and said: 
 
 " The horse the darkey has is built for running; 
 look at his length and his straight flat strong legs ; 
 look at his shoulders and hips," and then turning 
 his glasses upon the horse he scrutinized him 
 more closely, and moving about nervously said in 
 an excited tone, " He ll win! he ll win!" 
 
 "The darkey don t look much alongside the 
 other rider," said one, on whom the gaudy trap 
 pings had had the desired effect. Another 
 remarked, "Never mind about that nigger, he ll 
 win the race." " Never ! " came from a third 
 party. 
 
 All this time Hunch, utterly oblivious to 
 the opinion of friend or foe, was holding a 
 conversation with Little Ben. He seemed to be 
 giving him instructions just as one would do with 
 a man, and the little horse seemed to understand 
 
Horses and riders ready for the race. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 253 
 
 him too, and pulled at the deep pockets in the 
 darkey s pants and rubbed his nose on his 
 bare head, as if to assure him that his injunc 
 tions would be faithfully obeyed. True to the 
 characteristics of the Southern women, Helen sat 
 there in plain view of the great throng brave and 
 determined, yet her every breath was a prayer for 
 the success of her ragged protege. 
 
 "All in readiness for the first heat!" the 
 judge called. 
 
 Starlight s rider was assisted to mount, with 
 two stalwart men holding on to the mettlesome 
 horse, prancing with impatience to be away. 
 
 Little Hunch saw this move and crossing the 
 track sprang upon a bench which stood beside 
 the grand stand. Here he stood for an instant 
 calmly and deliberately surveying his opponent s 
 actions, and then, placing his fingers to his lips, 
 uttered a shrill whistle. Ben instantly wheeled 
 over to the bench, allowed the negro to scramble 
 on his back, which he did with the agility of a 
 monkey, and then made for the starting line, 
 where he stopped. This clever maneuver created 
 some concern in the mind of Allen Parks and he 
 
254 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 cautioned his rider not to be caught napping by 
 the darkey, as the horse was a total stranger and 
 might give him more trouble than he anticipated. 
 The darkey s coolness brought forth cheers from 
 the crowd which somewhat comforted Helen. 
 
 "First heat!" shouted the judge, "Ready 
 one, two, three!" The pistol cracked and the 
 horses were off. 
 
 "Away they go, Starlight in the lead!" Helen 
 exclaimed, as she leaned breathlessly forward over 
 the rail with her glasses to her eyes. "All is 
 lost!" she cried, "Little Ben is no match for the 
 sorrel," and unable to endure the sight she turned 
 her head away. 
 
 A great hush fell on the crowd. Eager 
 and expectant, every eye followed the flying 
 animals. Suddenly a shout rent the air it grew 
 into a roar. "The little horse is gaining. See! 
 See! He is a beautiful runner!" Helen threw 
 her glasses upon the horses again just as they 
 passed the half-mile post, in time to see Little 
 Ben leap forward and come up neck and neck, 
 while Starlight s rider plied his whip vigor 
 ously. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 255 
 
 "Oh!" she exclaimed, "see the dear little horse 
 dash forward at the last quarter; Starlight is 
 crowding him to the fence. Why don t Hunch 
 use the whip? Two hundred yards, nose and 
 nose! He can t win! He can t win! A hundred 
 yards Oh!" she exclaimed. Then those who 
 were within ear-shot of the horses thundering 
 down the home-stretch heard Hunch call aloud 
 just once, "Little Ben!" and the gallant little horse 
 responded with a spurt which sent him under the 
 wire half a neck ahead of Starlight, while the 
 pent-up feelings of the multitude burst forth in 
 mighty and prolonged cheering for the little horse 
 and his coal-black rider. 
 
 The strange old planter who had predicted 
 Ben s victory was wild with excitement and 
 enthusiasm. Regardless of rules he sprang over 
 the fence and went to the grand stand, looked 
 the horse over very carefully, and held a few 
 minutes conversation with the little darkey. 
 
 The crowd cheered Helen, and she bowed a 
 sweet acknowledgment of the honor. 
 
 Parks was simply dumbfounded. He had noth 
 ing more to say about the insult offered him by 
 
256 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 putting such a looking plug in the race, but going 
 to the judges told them his horse had not let his 
 speed out, but would in the next heat. Miss 
 Helen heard this and so did Hunch; and they 
 also heard Starlight s rider instructed to win the 
 next race or kill the horse. 
 
 Hunch said in an undertone, " Better kill de 
 plug now, fo he neber win de race." 
 
 Then the sable jockey retired to the friendly 
 bench, while his steed, closely following him, 
 began to nose in his pockets for his customary 
 reward. 
 
 There were no spurs, whips or attendants for 
 Little Ben, for the jealous little darkey would not 
 allow anyone to touch him. 
 
 Allen Parks arrogance in front of the grand 
 stand added still more to Helen s disgust of him, 
 and she realized more than ever before that the 
 day was a turning-point in her life. 
 
 Charley stayed out of sight, as Helen had 
 requested, but every little while he would send 
 her missives of encouragement, which she read 
 with apparent delight. He told her she was as 
 brave as she was good, and the sympathy of the 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 257 
 
 multitude was with her; that the little horse was 
 a wonder, and he was sure he would win. 
 
 "Second heat!" the judges called. The con 
 testants toed the mark. "One, two, three!" the 
 pistol cracked, and the horses are off again. Star 
 light leads from the start ; as they go, Little Ben 
 is a length behind. Now they reach the half-mile 
 stake, Ben s nose to the girt ; now they swing on 
 the home-stretch, but Hunch was either purposely 
 holding him back or was unable to get the speed 
 he had obtained in the first heat. 
 
 "Little Ben will lose! he will lose!" Helen 
 exclaimed in dismay. And so he did, for the 
 horses passed under the wire with Little Ben one 
 length behind. Hunch sprang from his back and 
 fished out of the old sack, with his black, monkey- 
 like hands, a piece of plow-chain about two feet 
 long ; this he held up before the horse and rattled 
 it sharply. Little Ben went lame in an instant. 
 
 Then the unsympathetic crowd, forgetful of the 
 triumph of the first heat, yelled, " The plug is 
 gone in ; now he s done for, the race is too long 
 for him," accompanying their remarks with howls 
 of derision, hoots and jeers. 
 
258 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 Some one asked Hunch what he was going to 
 do with that chain. " Oh ! I se gwine to hang 
 myself if I doan win de nex race." 
 
 Poor Helen cried bitterly, and little Hunch ran 
 to the grand stand and making his way to 
 where she sat, with his eyes luminous with 
 seriousness and his hands clasped, thus pleaded 
 with her: 
 
 " Doan cry, Missy Helen, doan cry; Little Ben 
 will win de race, fo Gord ! Missy Helen, Little 
 Ben will win." 
 
 Helen said, " Oh, no, he can t, Hunch, he s 
 lame." 
 
 Hunch approached closer and said in an under 
 tone, " No, Missy Helen, he no lame, he only 
 mek b lieve." 
 
 " Well then, why did he not win this heat ?" "I 
 didn t tell Little Ben to hur y up, if I tells im to 
 hur y up he hur y up, shuh he will. Doan cry ? 
 Missy Helen, he ll win o dis nigger 11 neber 
 come in alibe." 
 
 The old man who had taken so much interest 
 in the horse now appeared, and taking Hunch 
 aside, held a few minutes conversation with him. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 259 
 
 Hunch was heard to say, " He doan get started 
 under a mile." The kind-hearted planter went 
 back to where Helen sat and said to her, "About 
 four years ago I sold off all the stock on my old 
 Kentucky plantation, and among the horses was 
 a little runty, two-year-old colt that brought only 
 twelve dollars. His sire was a full-blooded 
 Arabian racer and his mother a Morgan; she was 
 killed by a falling tree when the colt was about 
 two weeks old. That little colt had a hard time 
 all through his life, but he seems to have survived 
 it, for that horse now on the track is he," point 
 ing to Little Ben. "I ll wager a thousand dollars 
 he wins in the next heat." 
 
 The smile which broke over Helen s tear- 
 stained face amply repaid the old gentleman s 
 kindly efforts, while the little darkey who had 
 heard the conversation made faces at the crowd 
 and gave a few steps of a cake-walk that brought 
 forth rapturous applause. 
 
 Just as they toed the mark for the third and 
 last heat, Allen Parks stepped up to Starlight s 
 rider and said, in his usual domineering manner, 
 "Mind you, you must win this heat in any 
 
260 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 manner or at any cost." He was beside himself 
 with rage at the unexpected speed and staying 
 qualities of Little Ben, and sorely puzzled at his 
 sudden lameness and its equally quick cure. 
 
 "Third heat!" the judges roared. The horses 
 toed the mark. "One, two, three!" the pistol 
 cracked, and they were off again. Neck and 
 neck they pressed onward, while up rose a cloud 
 of old Virginia dust that almost hid them from 
 the sight of the anxious onlookers. Helen 
 leaned forward over the rail, her fingers convul 
 sively clutching her field-glasses, every nerve 
 strained to its utmost tension in her efforts to 
 discern which was in the lead and to catch any 
 word the gentle breeze might float back to her. 
 The two riders urged their horses on ; the clank 
 of steel-shod hoofs beat out clear and rapid. 
 Starlight s rider laid on the whip from the start, 
 and was almost a length ahead of Little Ben at 
 the first quarter stake. 
 
 Then Hunch leaned forward as though he was 
 saying something to Little Ben, and with a spurt 
 he came up with his nose to Starlight s girt. 
 "See! See! They are neck and neck! Little 
 
:I 
 
 The finish of the third heat. 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 261 
 
 Ben is flying there, they turn the three-quarter 
 point! Oh!" exclaimed Helen. The crowd 
 shouted, "Starlight s rider has hit Little Ben on 
 the head with his whip. See! " 
 
 The horses rear and plunge against each other. 
 Another shriek from the crowd. Starlight s rider 
 pulled the frail bridle off Little Ben and threw 
 it to the ground. "See! See! Little Hunch 
 has lost his balance!" shrieked Helen. "He will 
 fall! He will fall! There," she cried, "he has 
 caught both hands in the surcingle loop and is 
 lying flat on Little Ben s back." 
 
 Helen turned her head away with a sigh. 
 Young Sharp buried his face in his hands, and 
 Allen Parks walked to and fro in a haughty man 
 ner. The multitude in the amphitheater silently 
 settled back in their seats chagrined and disap 
 pointed, as their sympathies were with Helen. 
 
 " Here they come again like mad ! " was shouted 
 from thousands of throats, as they thundered 
 down the home-stretch. Three hundred yards 
 two hundred yards now nose to nose. "Can 
 Little Hunch hold out?" Helen exclaimed as he 
 seemed about to fall from the horse s back. It 
 
262 A HORSE-RACE FOR A WIFE 
 
 was then the gentle breeze of old Virginia tossed 
 back to Helen, in Hunch s pathetic tone of voice, 
 "Hur y up, Little Ben! hur yiip!" At those words 
 the little horse dashed forward like a shot from a 
 gun and passed under the wire, half a length ahead 
 of Starlight, with eyes and nostrils dilated and 
 red as blood, and little Hunch fell to the ground 
 stunned. 
 
 Little Ben turned and trotted back to where 
 his rider s prostrate form lay, and rubbed his lips 
 all over his dust-covered face and nosed in his 
 deep, ragged pockets. And now the crowd 
 yelled itself hoarse with cheers and applause as 
 they saw a slim girl dart from her seat in the 
 grand stand, run rapidly down the stairs and out 
 on the track, where tender hands raised little 
 Hunch and cared for him. As his faculties slowly 
 returned the first words he uttered were, "Hur y 
 up, Little Ben! hur y up!" Helen and Charley, 
 both of whom were with him, told him the result 
 of the race, and he sank back satisfied, saying, 
 " Oh, Marse Charley, Missy Helen, I se glad! I 
 don tol yo Little Ben d win im. Fo Gord, he 
 would, shuh." Then young Sharp and Helen, 
 
IN THE DAYS OF SLAVERY 263 
 
 hand in hand, led Little Ben from the track 
 amidst the wildest cheers ever heard in old 
 Virginia. 
 
 The rough, iron plow-chains chafed Little 
 Ben s sides no more ; instead, he drew a beautiful 
 carriage for those for whom he had made the race 
 of his life, and little Hunch looked after him until 
 old age called them both to the great Hereafter, 
 and they were tenderly laid away in those grand 
 old Virginia mountains. 
 

 MTURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. 
 
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 - subject to immediate n 
 

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