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UBRARY~OFCONGRESS. 
 
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 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
fMMuU i^Wvag- """" ""»' ^^J 
 
"Walks About Chicago;' 
 
 1871-1881 
 
 Army and Miscellaneous Sketches. 
 
 J* 
 
 B. WILKIE, 
 
 (Poliuto.) 
 
 
 CHICAGO : 
 
 BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 
 
 St. LOUIS: 
 
 BELFORD & CLARKE PUBLISHING CO., 
 
 MDCCCLXXXII. 
 

 COPYKIGHTED. 
 
 BELFORD, CLARKE & CO., 
 
 1880. 
 
 PRINTED AND BOUND 
 
 BY 
 
 DONOEUE & HENNEBERRY, 
 
 CHICAGO. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 No apology is needed for bringing out this issue of Walks 
 About Chicago, for the reason that it is done solely in re- 
 sponse to an urgent, demand to that effect on the part of the 
 public. The original book was issued in 1871, just before the 
 great fire; and what was left of it was destroyed when Chicago 
 was burned. The sale had been very large from the moment 
 of issue up to the time of the destruction of the city; and 
 ever since there has been a steady demand for the book. The 
 second part, which consisted of letters from various watering- 
 places, in the ante-fire edition, has been omitted from the pre- 
 sent work, and its place supplied with Walks About Chicago 
 in 1881. In all other respects the book is unchanged. 
 
 Chicago, 1883. 
 
 F. B. W. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO— 1871. 
 
 A Triangular Walk — Nord Seite— Southside— West- 
 side, - - - . - - - - 9 
 
 Water- Works and Water-Falls, - - - 22 
 
 Court-House Ghost, ----- 27 
 
 A Walk in the Fall, ----- 33 
 
 Orpheus in Hades, ------ 39 
 
 How to Quit Smoking, . - 46 
 
 Mill on the Prairie, ----- 52 
 
 Going to the Matinee, ] 60 
 
 The Old Man's Smoke, ----- 65 
 
 WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO— 1881. 
 A Walk with a Stranger, - 
 
 71 
 
 AKMY AND OTHER SKETCHES. 
 
 A Bohemian Among the Eebels, 
 
 Pap Fuller's Game of Poker, 
 
 Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele, - 
 
 Some People I have Met, 
 
 Some Remembered Faces, 
 
 A Reminiscence of the War, 
 
 A Desperado who would not Stay Killed, 
 
 Among the Guerrillas, - 
 
 97 
 112 
 120 
 129 
 135 
 141 
 149 
 159 
 
6 Contents. 
 
 Uncle James and the Bull, - - 166 
 
 Some Eecollections of Allatoona, - - 172 
 
 The Revelations of a Window, - - 181 
 
 A Revelation of Clairvoyance, - - - 190 
 A Leap- Year Romance, ----- 199 
 
 The Horrors of Masonry, - 204 
 
 A Dream, and How it was Fulfilled, - - 213 
 
 Getting a Drink under Difficulties, - - 226 
 
 A Moral Country Place and its People, - - 234 
 
 Bicycular Affection, - 245 
 
 All About a Woman, - 252 
 
 A Ride to Death, ----- 256 
 
 The Most Beautiful Woman I Have Known - 272 
 
asijr^-a- 
 
 WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO-1871 
 
 g_|. — >terf — 4-SJ. 
 
A TRIANGULAR WALK. 
 
 NORD SEITE. 
 
 I HE geography, customs, productions, people, 
 and so forth, of a new country, are always 
 ^ full of interest. 
 
 Once, when I was traveling about, I 
 
 reached a place known among its inhabitants 
 
 Nord Seite." I spent some time there. I 
 
 found much to interest a traveler. 
 
 Nord Seite is situated in about the same latitude 
 
 as Chicago, and is about 10J degrees of longitude 
 
 west of "Washington. Its population is about 
 
 60,000. 
 
 To reach it from Chicago, one can take rail to 
 New York; thence go by steamer to Alaska, via 
 Cape Horn; from Alaska south to about the 42nd 
 parallel; thence east by stage and rail, 2,000 miles, 
 to Nord Seite. 
 
 Nord Seite has an immense body of water en one 
 side, and a river whose main stream and one branch 
 inclose two of the remaining sides. Nord Seite is, 
 therefore, a sort of peninsula. 
 
 The river referred to is deep and sluggish. It can 
 not be forded. It can not be crossed in small boats 
 on account of its exhalations. These are a combi- 
 nation of sulphuretted hydrogen, the odor of decay- 
 ing rodents, and the stench of rotting brassica. In 
 
10 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 crossing this river a sort of contrivance is resorted 
 to, which is termed by the natives, Brucke. 
 
 This Brucke is not always reliable. Sometimes 
 one can get over the river by its means, of tener he 
 can't. The Brucke is built of wood and iron, 
 painted red, and at a distance looks not unlike a 
 stumpy sort of rainbow. 
 
 The inhabitants of Nord Seite consist of men, 
 women, children, dogs, billy-goats, pigs, cats, and 
 fleas. In estimating the proportion of each of these 
 classes, it is found that the fleas vastly outnumber 
 all the others. They are not only numerous, but 
 full-grown and vicious. 
 
 In the warm season a Nord-Seiter has a lively time 
 in flea-hunting. In hunting this game the Nord 
 Seiter shuts himself or herself in a tight room and 
 strips to the skin. Then the flea is pursued and 
 captured. 
 
 Most all the Nord Seite dogs are good flea hunt- 
 ers. They commence hunting fleas when young, 
 without any instruction. Pretty much all their 
 lives are spent in pursuit of this pastime. 
 
 The human population of Nord Seite is indus- 
 trious. In the flea and fly time especially. 
 
 The business of the inhabitants of Nord Seite con- 
 sists of a great variety of pursuits and occupations. 
 These pursuits and occupations divide themselves 
 naturally into two large classes. The first in- 
 cludes every other male resident of Nord Seite. 
 These are engaged in selling a liquid which tastes 
 something like a mixture of hops and rosin. It is 
 the color of amber, and is surmounted with a white, 
 yeasty, flaky coronal. The other class includes 
 every man, woman and child in Nord Seite. This 
 
A Triangular Walk. 11 
 
 class is engaged in drinking what the other class is 
 engaged in selling. 
 
 From the large admixture of hops in this univer- 
 sal beverage, it results that the residents of North 
 Seite are very fond of dancing. 
 
 The ladies of North Seite are usually feminine in 
 dress, and oftentimes so in fact and appearance. 
 They mostly wear their hair braided in small plaits, 
 which are again braided in larger plaits, which are 
 braided into still larger ones; and these are once 
 more braided into a large braid, which is twisted, 
 and coiled, and wound and intertwined in, and 
 around, and through, and about, and over, and under 
 itself, till it resembles a riddle tied in a GOrdian 
 knot, and the whole enveloped in a rebus which 
 nobody ever can guess. 
 
 When a Nord-Seite lady once gets her hair done 
 up in this complex and elaborate style, she never 
 takes it down. She couldn't if she would. The only 
 method of removing this style of coiffure is to shave 
 the head. 
 
 Intercommunication in Nord-Seite is carried on in 
 various ways. Many of the inhabitants go on foot. 
 Others have a small two-wheeled vehicle, to which 
 are harnessed a dog and a small boy, or a little girl. 
 
 They also have tracks upon which run vehicles 
 which they term Vagens. The Vagen is drawn by 
 two horses. 
 
 The Vagen is used principally for the conveyance 
 of passengers carrying goods. It will answer to 
 what would be an express-car in this country, in 
 which each man should ride carrying whatever ar- 
 ticle he wished expressed to any point. 
 
 I have been in a Vagen in which a woman, on 
 one side of me, carried on her lap a clothes-basket ; 
 
12 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 in which were four heads of cabbage ; six links of 
 imported sausage ; one bottle of goose-grease ; two 
 loaves of a brown, farinaceous product termed 
 Brodt; a calf's liver; some strips of what is known 
 as Schweinfleisch; a half peck of onions ; a string 
 of garlic ; and a large piece of a fragrant compound 
 known as Limburger Kase. 
 
 On the other side of me was a woman with a baby 
 in her arms ; a small child on each knee ; two other 
 children, a trifle larger, on their knees, on each side 
 of her, looking out of the windows of the Vagen ; 
 and five other children, of various sizes, pictur- 
 esquely grouped about her knees and on the floor. 
 The same sort of thing was seen all through the 
 Vagen. Each woman either had from four to nine 
 children, or a basket that filled half the vehicle. 
 Sometimes a woman would have the basket and the 
 children both. 
 
 A very common patroness of the Vagen was a 
 woman with two buckets of swill, carried by a yoke 
 from the neck. The woman with the swill buckets 
 was very common. She usually made her appear- 
 ance at every third square. She didn't generally 
 look very attractive. If possible, she smelt a trifle 
 worse than she looked. . 
 
 The* Nord-Seiter is economical. No matter if he 
 earn nothing per diem, he always has enough to 
 buy a mug of the amber fluid, and have five cents 
 over, which he puts away in the bottom of an old 
 stocking. 
 
 There is no newspaper published in Word Seite. 
 But there is a brewery there. So is there a distillery. 
 There is likewise a place where they sell a beverage 
 known as Lager Bier. 
 
A Tri'angular Walk. 13 
 
 When two or three Nord-Seiters are conversing 
 confidentially on a subject which they wish nobody 
 else to hear, their whisper is about as loud as the 
 tone in which a Chicago man would say, "Oh, Bill!" 
 to an acquaintance two blocks away. 
 
 When two or three Nord-Seiters converse in an 
 ordinary tone of voice, the result is a tremendous 
 roar. A stranger would think them engaged in a 
 hot, terrific altercation. 
 
 A Nord-Seite Vagen is an epitome of one hundred 
 and eight distinct odors, of which onions constitute 
 the dominant. 
 
 Some of the Nord-Seiters speak a little broken 
 English. 
 
 There are many other curious things about Nord 
 Seite and its population. Any body who has time 
 and money should visit the place. The people are 
 hospitable. Any one can visit them; reside with 
 them as long as necessary; study their customs, and 
 enjoy himself very thoroughly. 
 
 SOUTHSIDE. 
 
 Once I described a visit I made to a remote and 
 singular place known to the inhabitants as Nord 
 Seite. During the same traveling expedition, I 
 reached another city which contains many points of 
 interest. This other place is named, by those who 
 reside in it, Southside. 
 
 To get to Southside from Nord Seite, one takes a 
 steamer to Detroit, via Milwaukee, Mackinaw, and 
 Sarnia. Thence east through Canada to Montreal, 
 thence south via St. Albans, Rutland, Saratoga, and 
 Albany to New York. From here you go to Phila- 
 delphia, and thence west by rail to Southside. 
 
14 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 By this route one will either reach Southside, or 
 New Jerusalem, by being wrecked on the water or 
 smashed on the land. By this route it is two to one 
 in favor of your getting to New Jerusalem, rather 
 than to Southside. Few men have ever essayed the 
 trip and lived to tell the tale. 
 
 When you once get to Southside you will feel 
 amply repaid for the risking the perils of the jour- 
 ney. It is a large and thriving city, and has a pop- 
 ulation of less than 100.000. 
 
 Southside is laid out next to a large and flourish- 
 ing body of water on one side, and a deep and aro- 
 matic river on the other. In the matter of location 
 it is very exclusive. The river is impassable. Birds 
 which attempt to fly over it are intoxicated by its 
 exhilarating perfume, and fall into it and die. 
 
 Southside has but one street, which is known as 
 The Avenue. All the population of Southside live 
 upon The Avenue. If you meet a Southsider in 
 St. Petersburg, and ask him where he lives, he will 
 say he lives on The Avenue. Afterwards, if you ask 
 him, he will tell you in what city, state, and country 
 The Avenue is located. 
 
 Southside has street cars which are exclusively 
 for the benefit of strangers visiting the place. Some- 
 times a lady who lives on The Avenue gets on one 
 of these cars. Whenever she does, she opens a con- 
 versation with some one, and tells him in a loud 
 tone that both her carriages are at the shop to be 
 mended. She also is obliged to ask the conductor 
 how much the fare is. 
 
 Southside once had a fine opera-house in which 
 there used to sing grand artists. But now the opera- 
 house has got to be a combination of hippodrome, 
 gymnasium, and model-artist exhibitions. Where 
 
A Triangular Walk. 15 
 
 Casta Diva was once trilled sublimely, there is now 
 roared in a hoarse voice, " Captain Jinks of the 
 Horse Marines." Where Queen Elizabeth once 
 strode there now straddles some undressed nymph 
 — of the spectacular persuasion. 
 
 The Avenue in Southside is occupied by some of 
 the most aristocratic and wealthy families in exist- 
 ence. There are many of them whose descent goes 
 back to Noah and Adam. 
 
 The hospitality of many of the aristocratic and 
 wealthy families on The Avenue is remarkable. 
 They carry their hospitality to such an extent that 
 a family will often put notices in the newspapers 
 offering all the comforts of a home to a couple of 
 young gentlemen, or to a gentleman and his wife, 
 without children. 
 
 About one-half the hospitable residents on The 
 Avenue, in this manner, afford the comforts of a 
 home to a few guests. In return for the comforts 
 of a home thus generously afforded them, the guests 
 pay a small per capita tax. This little tax never 
 amounts to more than twice or three times the en- 
 tire expenses of the hospitable family with whom 
 the guests find the comforts of a home. 
 
 Sometimes a resident of The Avenue will take a 
 few guests for their companionship. The cost of 
 being a companion on The Avenue ranges from all 
 you have in the shape of income to all you can 
 borrow. 
 
 There are no boarding-houses on The Avenue. A 
 man who can not afford to be a companion in a re- 
 fined family, or whose assets do not permit his enjo} r - 
 ment of the comforts of a home, has to consult 
 economy and go to a hotel, where he can exist for 
 $50 per week. 
 
16 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 All the people who live on The Avenue keep their 
 own carriages. The gentlemen are good horsemen, 
 and always do their own driving. When a South- 
 sider drives himself out he usually wears a plug hat, 
 with the fur, just above the brim, brushed the wrong 
 way. The gentleman who thus drives himself is 
 generally a fine, healthy, fresh-looking man. The 
 coachman rides behind. He has thin legs, a weak 
 voice, and frequently wears eye-glasses. 
 
 The young ladies who live on The Avenue are the 
 most beautiful in the world. They always marry for 
 love. Especially if the husband be worth a couple 
 of hundred thousand dollars. Or says he is. 
 
 When these charming young ladies are married 
 they never get divorces — in less than three or six 
 months. If they do, the case is exceptional. The 
 rule is one year, unless the young man's money runs 
 out sooner, or the young woman gets a better offer. 
 
 There is one gambling house in Southside. There 
 is likewise a house occupied by young women who 
 are highly painted, and about the purity of whose 
 morals there is some doubt. 
 
 There is likewise an association of young Christ- 
 ians who pray for the poor, and needy, and the 
 starving. 
 
 Getting to heaven from Southside is an exclusive, 
 first-class, expensive operation. A reserved seat on 
 the Southside route costs from $1,500 to $5,000 per 
 annum. They run only drawing-room vehicles and 
 palace cars from the Southside depots. Grace, 
 Trinity and Messiah are some of the principal de- 
 pots from out which there run weekly lines of vel- 
 vet and mahogany coaches, in which every thing is 
 exclusive, first-class, tip-top, and warranted to run 
 through without change. 
 
A Triangular Walk. 17 
 
 A poor man in Southside whe wants to go to 
 heaven has to go afoot. There is only one man in 
 Southside who is footing it. There are some other 
 poor ones who are too weak to walk and too poor to 
 ride. They propose to go to the other place. It is 
 a good deal cheaper to go to h — 1 from Southside 
 than it is to go to heaven. 
 
 Southside has a fine park some where. Real 
 estate dealers know where it is. It will be a nice, 
 shady place as soon as some trees are set out. All 
 the little boys of Southside are going to take their 
 grandchildren down to the park to play, as soon as 
 the latter get large enough. 
 
 There is a velocipede school in Southside. Some 
 of the young men of Southside who ride the veloci- 
 pede have to stiffen their legs with splinters to keep 
 them from snapping off. Southside has also a peri- 
 odical published in the interest of woman. The in- 
 terest of woman means, the interest of the woman 
 that publishes it. There is also a man in the com- 
 mission business in Southside. He lives on The 
 Avenue. 
 
 There are a thousand other curious things con- 
 nected with Southside and its residents which must 
 be seen to be appreciated. It is a good place to go 
 to. 
 
 WESTSIDE. 
 
 Any person who has ever traveled much, or who 
 has studied physical geography, must have visited, 
 or must have seen a place known as Westside. It is 
 one of the largest places of its size, and the most 
 singular in respect to its singularity, in the world. 
 
 To get to Westside, the traveler provides himself 
 with a water-proof suit of clothing, an umbrella, a 
 life-preserver, and a box of troches. He then enters 
 
18 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 an immense hole under ground which leads mainly 
 westward in one direction, and eastward in another. 
 
 This subterranean entrance to Westside was con- 
 structed for a double purpose. One of these pur- 
 poses was to prevent anybody who lives on West- 
 side from leaving. The other was because there is 
 a river which nobody can cross, owing to its ex- 
 halations. This subterranean entrance runs under 
 this river. 
 
 Going through this hole is a work of immense 
 difficulty and danger. The best way to get through 
 in winter is to skate through. In summer, for a few 
 days, in dog-days, there is good boating. The innu- 
 merable cascades, cataracts, pitfalls, and the intense 
 darkness, make its navigation a work of great risk. 
 Like the entrance to Rasselas' Happy Valley, it is 
 constructed to keep people in, who are once in, and 
 to discourage the coming in of those who are out. 
 
 Once in Westside the traveler finds himself on an 
 enormous plain sparsely covered with houses. West- 
 side extends from the river to a park somewhere on 
 its limits to the westward. Just where this park is, 
 nobody knows. The boundaries of Westside are as 
 limitless and indefinite as the interval from the 
 Gulf of Mexico to the present time. 
 
 The architecture of Westside is fine aad peculiar. 
 A residence with a marble front always has a 
 butcher's shop on one side, and a beer saloon on the 
 other. The people who live in Westside are as di- 
 yersified as their architecture. 
 
 Westside has street-cars which are sometimes 
 visible when a rain has laid the dust. One conduc- 
 tor on one of these street-cars washed his hands one 
 spring. At least it was saicl that he did, Nobody 
 
A Triangular Walk. 19 
 
 was ever able to tell when the time was, or which 
 conductor it was that did it. 
 
 Whenever a man in Westside builds a house and 
 puts up a fence in front of it, he immediately calls 
 the space in front of his lot an avenue. Sometimes 
 a Westside avenue is as much as 200 or 300 feet 
 long. 
 
 Every other shop on Westside is owned by a 
 butcher, who has always a bloody and half-skinned 
 calf hanging up in his door for a cheerful sign. The 
 thing is so agreeable to Westsiders, that, on every 
 pleasant afternoon, the ladies take their knitting- 
 work, and go and sit in front of the butcher's shop. 
 
 Westside is the residence of a good many notable, 
 strong-minded women. These strong-minded wo- 
 men all have virtuous and docile husbands, who are 
 further characterized by their sweetness, and their 
 retiring dispositions. Whenever a Westside woman 
 gets to weigh 270 pounds, she immediately starts 
 out in favor of woman's rights. In this weigh, she 
 is able to afford great weight to the cause which 
 she advocates. 
 
 Every woman on Westside once lived on The 
 Avenue in a place known as Southside. Whenever 
 she goes down town, she goes to visit a friend on 
 The Avenue. Whenever she has been down town, 
 she has been to call on a friend who lives on The 
 Avenue. A good many ladies who live in Westside 
 carry the idea, in the cars, that they live in Southside, 
 on The Avenue, and are only in Westside for a visit. 
 The uncle, aunt, cousin, grand-mother, brother-in- 
 law, step-sister, half -uncle, and god-father of every 
 body in Westside lives on The Avenue in Southside. 
 No young lady in Westside will receive permanent 
 
20 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 attention from a young man unless he lives on The 
 Avenue in Southside. When a Westsider of the 
 female persuasion dies, her spirit immediately wings 
 its way to .the blissful and ecstatic realms of The 
 Avenue on Southside. 
 
 The railway companies in Westside never water 
 their track. They do their stock. The result, in 
 both cases, is to throw dirt in the eyes of the public. 
 
 There are no carriages in Westside. It is so dusty 
 there, that a vehicle which does not run on rails can 
 never find its way from one point to another. When 
 it is not dusty it is muddy. The dust has no top, 
 and the mud no bottom. In either case, locomotion, 
 except on tracks, is impossible. 
 
 Westside has no newspapers. It likewise has no 
 opera-house which is used as a circus. Its principal 
 local amusement consists, among the men, in chew- 
 ing tobacco, and among the women, in going to 
 church. Wherever there is a corner in Westside not 
 occupied as a drug store, it is occupied by a church. 
 
 All the churches in Westside have something 
 going on in them every evening, and seven after- 
 noons in every week, and four times every Sunday. 
 Whenever there is anything going on in any church, 
 they toll the bell for an hour and a quarter before it 
 commences, and at intervals during the perform- 
 ance. The result is, that every man in Westside 
 hears from one to eleven bells tolling cheerfully 
 three fifths of his time. 
 
 A stranger in Westside would conclude that the 
 whole town was dead, or that ten or fifteen melan- 
 choly funerals were in progress in every neighbor- 
 hood. There is one church, on the corner of Wash- 
 ington avenue and Robey avenue, that has been 
 tolling its bell without cessation for two years. When 
 
A Triangular Walk. 21 
 
 there isn't a prayer-meeting, or somebody dead, they 
 toll it for somebody who is going to die. They use 
 up a sexton there every thirteen days. When there 
 is no prayer-meeting, or any thing else, or any body 
 dead, or any body who is going to die, then the bell 
 tolls for the last deceased sexton. 
 
 Westside is immensely philanthropic. It has an 
 asylum for inebriates from Southside, and other 
 places. This asylum has often as many as from one 
 to two inebriates who are undergoing treatment. 
 The treatment consists in leaning against the fence, 
 when tight, and in stepping over the way to a saloon 
 and getting tight, when sober. The asylum is a very 
 cheerful building, with enormous windows of four 
 by six glass. Some of the rooms are fine and airy, 
 and would answer for dog-kennels if enlarged and 
 properly ventilated. 
 
 There are a good many other peculiar things in 
 Westside, which can be better understood by being 
 seen than by being heard of. Any body who dares 
 to face the dangers and darkness of the hole in the 
 ground by which one reaches Westside, will be well 
 repaid for his visit. 
 
WATER-WORKS AND WATER-FALLS. 
 
 HEN one lacks a theme 'upon which to 
 
 write, he can always fall back on Chicago. 
 
 Other subjects have a depth which is fath- 
 
 |P omable; Chicago, like its mud, is bottomless. 
 
 One can always write about Chicago with- 
 
 TT out wearying himself or his readers. He may 
 
 write of it as a whole, — a mud-hole, — if he 
 
 chooses, and never exhaust it. He may deal with 
 
 it in particulars, and never reach their end. 
 
 The great event of the past week was the great 
 tunnel. And speaking of water-works irresistibly 
 reminds one of our ladies. And this again necessi- 
 tates raptures. What is there more beautiful in 
 song or story, in romance or legend, in dreams or 
 in imagination, than the latest style of woman? 
 Her water-fall, tied on the top of her head, may be 
 said to be at high tide. There is nothing so charm- 
 ing as the present style. What can be more rakish 
 than the little flat hat, one end of which rests on a 
 delicate nose, and the other, reaching aspiringly up- 
 wards, upon the towering water-fall? The nose of 
 the ladies is out of joint. Once it had its own bridge; 
 now it serves as a pier for a bridge from nose to 
 chignon. 
 
 The part of the head thus bridged is that which 
 usually contaiDS the intellectual faculties. Bridges 
 are generally built over abysses. There is ordina- 
 rily nothing under a bridge. Is there any thing 
 
Water-Works and Water-Falls. 23 
 
 Under these hat-bridges? Are they constructed be- 
 cause there is emptiness, space, vacuity, an abysm 
 between nose and waterfall? 
 
 The elevated chignon now covers the organs of 
 amativeness and self-esteem. When women lack a 
 development jn any part, they usually supply it. 
 Why they should pad either of these phrenological 
 developments, one fails to see. It is like carrying 
 coals to Newcastle. The latter of these two organs 
 is always of full size in the sex. The other is never 
 deficient. It is the most beautiful development in 
 woman. With it she loves early and often. 
 
 From a water-fall to water- works the transforma- 
 tion is natural. In this connection, it is gratifying 
 to be able to state that the new water works well. 
 Not well-water, but lake-water is meant. 
 
 The new water which comes through the tunnel 
 is of the most remarkable purity. It is so perfectly 
 clear and transparent that, when frozen into ice, it 
 becomes invisible. When a goblet stands before 
 one at dinner, he has to thrust his finger in it to 
 know whether there is water there. In some 
 respects it is inconvenient. A pail left over night, 
 half-filled with water, will contain a half-dozen 
 drowned rats in the morning. They leap into the 
 pail thinking that there is nothing in it. It is dan- 
 gerous to leave water-tubs about that have water in 
 them; children get into them to play, under the 
 impression that they are empty. Small children are 
 very frequently found in a very wet condition. 
 
 The introduction of the new water, has ruined 
 filter manufacturers. Passing our water through a 
 filter has the effect to purify the filter and to foul the 
 water. Speaking of water-fowl leads to the inquiry 
 
24 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 as to whether there is any philological connection 
 between these birds and an aqua-duck? 
 
 Not only are filter dealers about to fail, but hotel 
 and boarding-house keepers are experiencing a 
 heavy loss. A pitcher of water, which once went a 
 great ways in house-keeping, is now of no account 
 save to quench thirst. Many families that, on Fri- 
 day, drank only Chicago water, now have to buy 
 their fish at the market. In fact, the expenses of 
 living in Chicago have increased. Where there was 
 once a surplus, there is now a defishency. Before 
 the tunnel was bored, board was a more profitable 
 affair than it now is. Then it was like the water, — 
 there was something in it; now. like the water, there 
 is nothing in it. 
 
 The cleansing properties of the new water are 
 wonderful. Children whose faces have been washed 
 in it have been lost and never found. Their mothers 
 can not recognize them. It is proposed to estab- 
 lish a place where lost children may be gathered, 
 and where only the old water will be used in their 
 ablutions. In time, it is expected that many young 
 children, whom nobody now knows, will be recog- 
 nized by their parents. 
 
 Long-married people who wash themselves in the 
 new water undergo all the satisfaction of a newly- 
 married pair. She seems some other woman. He 
 appears some other man. The jaded routine of 
 their old life disappears. There are the freshness, 
 the piquancy, of a new love. She is tender, believ- 
 ing him some gentle stranger. He is gallant, think- 
 ing her some beautiful young Thing. 
 
 Some queer results attend the invisibility which 
 characterizes the puritj^ of Chicago water. The 
 day that the water was let in, there was an alarm 
 
Water- Works and Water-Falls. 25 
 
 of fire. The engines proceeded to the conflagation. 
 It was that of $250 worth of cigars, insured in four 
 companies at $1,000 each. The hose was reeled off 
 and attached to the hydrants. The firemen directed 
 the nozzles towards the burning establishment. 
 There was a tremendous rush, as of air, but appa- 
 rently no water. The real state of the case was 
 not suspected until a passing dog, that happened to 
 go in a line of the stream, was stricken with hydro- 
 phobia. 
 
 The result of the occurrence is well known. The 
 owner of the cigar stock got his insurance, and went 
 back to his native clime south of the Baltic. When 
 last heard from, he was engaged in giving advice 
 to some poor countrymen. He told them to go 
 to America, and that their best policy would be to 
 insure something. He assured them that the risks 
 in this business were small, and the premium for a 
 virtuous adherence to the business lucrative. 
 
 Speaking of insurance suggests that competition 
 in this line grows more lively every day. A com- 
 pany has just been started that offers heavy induce- 
 ments. It will take small cigar stocks at a minimum 
 of four times their value; and it presents, along with 
 each policy, a barrel of shavings, a bottle of turpen- 
 tine, and a box of matches. 
 
 Insurance companies in Chicago are doing a fine 
 business. A good many men have latterly been able 
 to retire to private life. Nearly all of those who 
 have retired have large balances at the bank. These 
 balances appear on that side of the bank-ledger 
 known as " Dr." 
 
 Insurance, however, has no special connection 
 with Chicago water, unless it be marine insurance. 
 In this case there is some. Marine insurance is not 
 
26 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 the life assurance of marines. It refers to vessels 
 which cross that crystal reservoir from which Chi 
 cago now draws its water. 
 
 The purity of Chicago water is guaranteed from 
 the fact that it reaches us through a hole. Water 
 that comes to us through a hole must be wholly 
 water. It does not, however, follow that it is holy 
 water. It is simply good, pure water. It is good 
 enough to form the subject of a poem. The eau de 
 Chicago might be used as the theme of a cold water 
 ode. 
 
 Perhaps some future poet, struck by the gorgeous 
 spectacle of our grandeur, may attempt this ode. If 
 he does, he had better make it " owed." A century 
 hence, what Chicago owed in 1867, will be a greater 
 subject of reflection than its water- works. 
 
COURT-HOUSE GHOST. 
 
 HE writer was taking a walk around the 
 
 court house square. There is a nice prome- 
 
 ^^ * nade in the public square. Especially after 
 
 ,2 i - 
 
 <8> 
 
 night. The massive court house is piled up 
 like immense masses of darkness bordered, with 
 gray. It is a cool place. Whatever way one 
 goes, the fierce winds come howling around the 
 corners of the rectangle, meeting him square in the 
 face. If he turn and go the other way, the winds 
 hasten back, and are in waiting to meet him in the 
 face at the next corner. 
 
 If one is a little lonely, he need not lack for com- 
 panionship. He can get up a conversation at any 
 time with voices that issue through the grates. Not 
 a very select conversation, however; at least on the 
 part of the voices behind the grates. There is much 
 oath. There are allusions suggestive of moral rot- 
 tenness. Expletives odorous with blasphemy. Not 
 much will be said by the voices behind the grates to 
 excite the admiration of a healthy Christian. 
 
 It was a cloudy night on which the writer amused 
 himself by walking in the square. A mist had set- 
 tled over the street lamps, and their light seemed to 
 issue through long tubes, whose inner surface ap- 
 peared covered with grayish points, like long hairs. 
 Nothing was visible anywhere, save in dim outline. 
 No pedestrians anywhere were visible. There came 
 
28 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 indistinctly the click of billiard-balls from a half- 
 obscured mass of light in the Sherman House. 
 
 Suddenly, as the writer stood listening to the 
 voices behind the grate, there stood before him a 
 gigantic figure. He did not appear to have come 
 there. He appeared, as it were. There was no 
 sound of steps to announce his coming. He stood 
 there like a tree, as if he had always been there. 
 He was wrapped in a heavy overcoat. Tall boots 
 passed above his knees, and disappeared beneath 
 his coat. An immense cap was drawn down over 
 his ears and forehead. A large shawl inclosed his 
 neck and the lower portion of his face. No portion 
 of the countenance was exposed, save his eyes. 
 
 The writer was startled at the abrupt appearance 
 of the stranger, and his motionless attitude, At the 
 very moment that he appeared, the air seemed im- 
 pregnated with a foetid odor. 
 
 " Who are you ?" said the writer, as he involun- 
 tarily covered his nose with one hand, and with the 
 other felt for the butt of his revolver. 
 
 " Who am I?" said the stranger, in a strange, hol- 
 low voice. "Who am I?" he repeated slowly. "I 
 will tell you who I am. I am the incarnation of 
 stench. I am, in short, the Court-House Ghost." 
 
 "You don't tell me!" 
 
 " Truly, I am. If you doubt, use your olfactories." 
 
 " I'f aith, I can no longer doubt the former part of 
 your assertion. But the ghost part I am not so sure 
 of. I am inclined to suspect that you are a bone- 
 boiler just in from the South branch. Or a he-Naiad, 
 just arisen from the Chicago river." 
 
 "No. I am what I say. lam the Court-House 
 Ghost. It's me who has been groaning so dismally 
 
Court-House Ghost. 29 
 
 through the corridors of the jail. I was seeking an 
 outlet." 
 
 " Being a ghost, why need you make any extra 
 effort to get out?" 
 
 " Because, since the cold weather has come on, 
 every crack and orifice in the jail has been so stopped 
 up that there was no exit. Hence my groans. In 
 warm weather, I have no trouble to come and go 
 when I please." 
 
 " Exactly. Well, do you travel around much?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. I am fond of going around. I am 
 partial to amusements. I like Wood's Museum. I 
 go there often." 
 
 " Precisely. I think it likely. I may never nave 
 seen you there; but, if not mistaken, I have smelt 
 you." 
 
 "Undoubtedly. I go there almost every night./ 
 
 " And do you have no other resort?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, of course. Next to the Museum, I am 
 partial to McVicker's. On crowded nights, I can't 
 say but what I like the latter almost as well as the 
 former. I sometimes, on benefit or fashionable 
 nights, like to drop into the Opera-House. But, as 
 a general thing, I don't like that place. It is too 
 large and airy, and I become lost in its vastness." 
 
 "Do you do anything else when you come out- 
 side?" 
 
 "Yes, next to going to places of amusement, I 
 like the horse-cars. I spend a good deal of time on 
 the horse-cars. Latterly, however, the roads have 
 been torn up so much that my favorite routes have 
 been much interfered with. My preference is for 
 Archer road. That has been all right this summer, 
 I used to be very fond of the Halsted and Milwau- 
 kee lines. But, just to defeat or annoy me, those 
 
30 Walks About Chicvgo. 
 
 roads have been torn up all summer, and, in conse- 
 quence, I have been swindled out of a good many- 
 pleasant trips." 
 
 " Are you a member of any church? Do you 
 patronize the Sabbath services?" 
 
 " You take me for a heathen, sir?" 
 
 " No, sir. I take you for a son of old rancidity, 
 by a marriage with some member of the highly re- 
 spectable assafcetida family. That's all. Don't 
 take offence." 
 
 " No offence. Well, then, I do attend church very 
 regularly. Some of the churches in town are favor- 
 ites of mine. I am partial to all the services, but 
 especially to those held in the evening." 
 
 " I think I have recognized your presence in sev- 
 eral cases. As a general thing, you seem to be a 
 favorite. In my own case, I must say that I have 
 given more attention to you than to the sermon. 
 Usually, there is more of you. You appeal, so to 
 speak, more to one's senses." 
 
 ' 'Yes, I am rather a favorite among the religious 
 people. Somehow, folks have fallen into the way 
 of thinking that I am a necessary part of Divine 
 service. If I were not present, they would not think 
 the performance complete. I infer that I am much 
 liked from the fact that nearly all the churches are 
 built with special reference to my convenience. 
 They are so fearful, apparently, that I will not stay 
 with them, that they are careful to allow no avenue 
 of escape. I rather like it. Usually, the sisters are 
 charming. It pleases me to be with them. I nestle 
 among their furs and tresses. I brush their rosy 
 lips, and mingle myself with their breath. I am 
 very fond of women, I am," 
 
Court-House Ghost. 31 
 
 " Well, my sentimental extract of putrescence, 
 what else do you do to amuse yourself?" 
 
 " Not much of anything in particular, but a little 
 of every thing in general. Sometimes I visit a twin 
 brother of mine who resides at Bridgeport ; and I 
 linger, at times, over the bridges to inhale the in- 
 spiriting odor of that romantic stream, Chicago river. 
 Occasionally, late at night, I take a ride, on a scav- 
 enger's cart, into the country. Sometimes I go over 
 to the Armory, and I always attend the morning 
 sessions of the police court." 
 
 " Well, now, my amiable fetor, tell me what place 
 you like best, You seem to have been pretty much 
 all over Chicago, and are prepared to say what you 
 prefer. Have you a choice of residences — of loung- 
 ing places?" 
 
 "By all means, sir, in the language of the poet, 
 ' There is no place like home.' My home is the 
 basement of the court-house. There is no place like 
 it. I am as old as 3 or older than, the ' ancient, fish- 
 like smell ' of which you have doubtless heard. I am 
 the biggest old smell in Chicago. I was born in the 
 jail. I love it. None of my numerous relations 
 ever had a home like mine. It is so exactly adapted 
 to my convenience, that sometimes I think it was 
 built expressly for me. If so, blessings on the archi- 
 tect! In any case, benisons on the authorities who 
 are so careful to minister to my comfort!" 
 
 At this moment the spectre seemed to grow emo- 
 tional. It drew its sleeve rapidly across the abyss 
 between the bottom of its cap and the top of its 
 neck-handkerchief. 
 
 "Yes, sir," it continued, "it's very generous of 
 'em. I wouldn't 'a thought anybody would 'a done 
 it for a poor old stink like me. It must be on ac- 
 
32 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 count of my age. I am one of the oldest inhabi- 
 tants. I was born right here in Chicago, and I've 
 grown with the city. All the jail officials like me. 
 The jailor is an especial good friend. He spends 
 nearly all his time in my company. In fact, so 
 much are we together that any one would take us 
 for brothers. In a good many points you can't tell 
 us apart." 
 
 "Where are you going to-night?" asked the writer 
 as the bell in the Court House commenced striking 
 midnight. 
 
 " I came out to go to the limits on some of the 
 last cars. I generally go out with some of 'em 
 when the nights are cold. Good-bye, stranger." 
 
 Before the writer had time to respond to the salu- 
 tation, the ghost of the Court House had disap- 
 peared. Removing his hand cautiously from his 
 nose, the writer hurried from the vicinity. 
 
A WALK IN THE FALL. 
 
 HICAGO has entered the fall season under 
 very favorable auspices. Chicago always 
 Ip^* enters upon a change of season under 
 1^ favorable auspices. When it commences the 
 summer, it has a promise of its magnificent 
 summer climate. When it begins winter, there 
 are foreshadowings of skating, and sleighing, and 
 pretty ankles, and much else more or less elevating. 
 In the beginning of spring, it is very pleasant to re- 
 flect that only three months of mud and mean 
 weather separate us from summer. The autumn is 
 mainly pleasant as being only one remove from win- 
 ter. 
 
 The fall season in Chicago, like everything else 
 hereabouts, is a good thing. It is the bridge which 
 connects glorious summer with magnificent winter. 
 Its coolness begins to tell a little on the smells at 
 the Museum and the Theatre. Only a little, how- 
 ever. It takes a killing frost to effect either of 
 them to any appreciable extent. Even then no 
 great effect is produced. These smells have a good 
 many lives. They are frost-proof. One of them is 
 about four and the other is six years old. So to 
 speak, they are just in the prime of life, and give 
 promise of a long lease of existence. 
 
 There is a younger smell at the Opera-House. It 
 is what might be called a baby smell in comparison 
 
34 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 with the veterans at the other places. But it is 
 growing and thriving. In time it may be as stout 
 and healthy a smell as that on exhibition at either 
 of the other places. 
 
 There is no truth in the rumor that Wood and 
 McVicker are negotiating to trade smells. A trade 
 would be a good thing to the respective audiences, 
 by way of variety; but it would be a good deal of 
 trouble to make the transfer. Ne'ithei would it bear 
 transportation on a dray, owing to its size. There 
 isn't any truck in Chicago large enough to handle 
 either of them. 
 
 The fall season affords tourists a fine opportunity 
 to inspect Chicago in detail. One of the most fav- 
 ored localities now visited by travelers is the wilder- 
 ness known as Union Park. Several scientific par- 
 ties have lately been organized to visit the mound in 
 this park. It is a great curiosity. Last week a 
 party of savans, composed of the members of the 
 Chicago Academy of Sciences, went out to examine 
 the mound. Taking two days' provisions, ladders 
 and ropes to make an ascent with, and theodolytes 
 and quadrants to take observations with, and shov- 
 els and picks to dig with, they went to the park, 
 and went into camp at the foot of the wonderful 
 mound. 
 
 The following are extracts from notes of observa- 
 tions taken during a three days' visit to the celebra- 
 ted mound: 
 
 "The Committee appointed by the Chicago Acad- 
 emy of Sciences, having provided themselves with 
 abundant provisions and scientific instruments, pro- 
 ceeded at once to the examination of the mound 
 near West Lake Street, in what is known as Union 
 Park. 
 
A Walk in the Fall. 35 
 
 "This celebrated mound has hitherto been sup- 
 posed to be either a tumulus, or else a species of 
 lusus naturoe. 
 
 "It presents, at a short distance, the appearance 
 of an irregular hemisphere lying upon its flat side. 
 A closer view showed your committee that its color 
 is dark 'gray, not unlike that of the unctuous, tena- 
 cious mixture of alumina and silica known as clay, 
 and excavated everywhere in our streets. 
 
 " It is entirely destitute of vegetation; from which 
 fact, and the color of the mound, Dr. Andrews was 
 inclined to believe that the mound was of volcanic 
 origin, and that it was composed of lava worn into 
 its present shape by attrition from the receding 
 waters of Lake Michigan. 
 
 " There arose a discussion as to the origin — a por- 
 tion of the committee favoring the volcanic theory, 
 and another portion what may be termed the tumu- 
 lous explanation. It was finally agreed to postpone 
 a priori discussion and! proceed with an examina- 
 tion. 
 
 "Around the base of the mound were found small, 
 roundish stones, having veins, clouds and other vari- 
 ations, and evidently the result of simple concretion, 
 or incrustration around a central mucleus. They are 
 better known as pebbles. There were also frag- 
 ments of carboniferous rocks, which appeared as if 
 they had been broken from the parent mass by some 
 tremendous force. 
 
 "Dr. Reily thought they resembled a good deal 
 the pieces of rock taken from the limestone quarries 
 near the Artesian Well, and, being there broken by 
 machinery, are used for macadamizing streets. 
 
 "By the use of ladders and ropes, an ascent of the 
 mound was accomplished. Immediate preparations 
 
36 • Walks About Chicago. 
 
 were made for an excavation. The crust was dense 
 and almost as hard as a rock. This fact confirmed 
 Dr. Kennicott in a belief that the origin of the 
 mound would be found connected with the azoic- 
 period of formation. 
 
 "After the crust had been penetrated to the depth 
 of six or seven inches, the process of excavation 
 grew more easy. The entire absence of organic 
 remains at this point of penetration seemed to rather 
 strengthen the opinion of Dr. Kennicott as to the 
 azoic origin of the mound. 
 
 " Ten inches from the surface the committee found 
 a large leaf in a partial state of preservation, and 
 whose extent, color and odor, not unlike that of saur 
 kraut, were like those of the brassica oleracea, or 
 common cabbage. This remnant, being unmistaka- 
 bly vegetable in its character, at once overthrew the 
 theory of the reference of the mound to an azoic 
 period. 
 
 " About a foot below the vegetable, a tough, stiff, 
 leathery article, not unlike a boot sole, was found. 
 Eighteen inches below the latter, in a stratum of a 
 gravelly character, we found the body of a vertebrate 
 animal in a tolerable state of preservation. Its back- 
 bone ultimated caudately about fourteen inches. Its 
 head was rounded, face oval, jaws armed with long, 
 sharp teeth, and feet with keen claws. The entire" 
 body was covered with soft, short fur, and the ani- 
 mal belonged unmistakably to the genus felis. A 
 very powerful and unpleasant odor, like that which 
 accompanies animal decomposition, attended the 
 body found in the mound, and prevented that 
 examination which the committee were disposed to 
 
 0*1 ~\Tf* 1 "t" 
 
A Walk in the Fall. 37 
 
 "The committee would request further time in 
 making up their report. The presence of scoriae and 
 ashes in great abundance in the mound induces a 
 portion of the committee to adhere to the theory of 
 a volcanic origin. The only point upon which the 
 committee have agreed is, that the origin of the 
 mound can not be referred to the azoic period. 
 
 " The presence of the leaf of the brassica oleracea 
 would seem to warrant the conclusion that, at some 
 remote period, some members of the great Scandina- 
 vian family visited the continent; and it may be that 
 they erected this mound in order to celebrate some 
 religious or other rite. A common pine board, upon 
 which appeared the Runic inspiration 'kabbichplanz 
 fur sel ' would strengthen this idea; but upon this 
 point your committee are not yet agreed. 
 
 "The presence of a specimen of the genus felis 
 leads Dr. Andrew to argue that, at whatever period 
 the mound was formed, there must have existed 
 cotemporaneously rats and mice and political meet- 
 ings. The offensive odor surrounding the specimen 
 has prevented an exhaustive examination, such as 
 the committee would be glad to give. So soon as 
 this odor abates in its intensity, an examination will 
 be held, and further and more important informa- 
 tion will undoubtedly be elicited. • 
 
 "Conclusions with reference to the specimen re- 
 sembling the boot-sole are withheld, in order to give 
 the committee time for more extended observation. 
 
 "In submitting this fragmentary report, your 
 committee desire simply to gratify the intense curi- 
 osity of the public in regard to this remarkable 
 mound. We, therefore, present our labors up to the 
 present time, and ask the indulgence of your honor- 
 
38 
 
 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 able and learned body, and of the public, for a few 
 weeks. The committee are not without the hope 
 that further time will result in a cordial unanimity 
 of opinion, and of a complete explanation of the 
 phenomena attending the mound." 
 
ORPHEUS IN HADES, 
 
 EOPLE who take a trip around town any 
 where must have noticed a good many 
 
 W^ highly-colored bills, upon which is printed 
 1*} J the somewhat prof ane sentence: "Orpheus in 
 jt Hell." 
 
 It has also been rumored about town that 
 there is a mysterious secret connected with this 
 placarded profanity. Somebody has mentioned to 
 somebody else that Orpheus was a man of family, 
 and that his wife, by some means or other, got into 
 h— 11. 
 
 This slender information, bruiting about, has crea- 
 ted a good deal of inquiry among married men. 
 They are anxious to find out how Mrs. Orpheus was 
 sent there; and whether or not the same process is 
 available at the present day. 
 
 As to Orpheus' attempt to get the lady out of 
 limbo, there is no curiosity among these same mar- 
 ried men. None that I have heard of take the least 
 interest in this part of the story. All they want to 
 know is how she was gotten there. 
 
 What bearing this curiosity has upon the condi- 
 tion of the married men who entertain it, must be 
 imagined. 
 
 It may be well to state that no great amount of 
 sympathy is expressed by these married men when 
 they learn that the effort of Orpheus to get his wife 
 out of h — 11 was an ignominious failure. 
 
40 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 To gratify the curiosity of these married men in 
 regard to this affair, I will summarize its principal 
 points: 
 
 Orpheus was a young man who lived in Thrace, 
 a good many centuries ago. He was a sentimental 
 young man, who boarded with a widow, and who 
 used to amuse himself by playing on a flute every 
 night, after the rest of the boarders had retired. 
 
 In this way he used to give voice to his otherwise 
 unutterable melancholy,, and which he always ad- 
 dressed to the sweet stars. 
 
 One night when he was tooting, in the tenderest 
 manner, Le Sabre de Mon Pere — an air just then in- 
 troduced — he was heard by a young seminary girl 
 named Eurydice. She was just seventeen, and full 
 of gentle poesy. 
 
 She, too, was afflicted with a profound melan- 
 choly, which came, she knew not whence. She 
 often thought it would be so sweet to die, and be 
 buried somewhere, with flowers over her grave, 
 and have a nice young man come thither and weep 
 over her untimely end. 
 
 She read Byron, and went to all the matinees. 
 To her a young man seemed the most perfectly 
 splendid thing that ever was created. 
 
 She heard the plaintive strains of Le Sabre de 
 Mon Pere, as they stole gently through the starry 
 night. They struck a responsive chord in her 
 maiden heart. 
 
 Suffice it that these two, drawn by an irresistible 
 sympathy, were not long in meeting and loving. 
 An engagement followed, and then a wedding. 
 
 It was a grand affair, and was held in public, in a 
 church. A great many tickets were issued, and 
 everybody was invited. Hymen himself came over 
 
Orpheus in Hades. 41 
 
 to attend the nuptials. It was a very gorgeous ar- 
 rangement, and was fully reported at the time in 
 the daily newspapers. The names and dress of the 
 bridesmaids were all given; and the bridal presents, 
 which had been lent for the occasion by an accom- 
 modating jeweller, were minutely described. 
 
 In the way of a wedding it was a very big thing. 
 The nuptial night was one of the grandest and most 
 interesting known. 
 
 But, alas! while on their wedding tour, the lovely 
 bride went out shopping one afternoon, and was 
 bitten by a demnition snake. This afflicting event 
 is thus beautifully alluded to by Mr. Ovid, who was, 
 at that time, " doing " the Jenkins for a daily news- 
 paper: 
 
 — " Nam nupta per herbas 
 Dum nova Naiadum turba comitata vagatur, 
 Occidit, in talum serpentis, dente recepto." 
 
 Nothing more thrilling was ever written. 
 
 She died of the bite. What became of the snake 
 is not on record. She was " snaked" out of exist- 
 ence. As soon as she was dead she went to h — 11. 
 
 In ancient times all women went thither. 
 
 Is there any evidence that the modern custom, in 
 this respect, is any different from the ancient one? 
 
 Orpheus felt vexed about the matter. He was dis- 
 turbed. It made him uneasy* At length he made 
 up his mind to go after her. 
 
 Having a relative who was a Radical member of 
 Congress, he had no difficulty in getting letters of 
 introduction to Pluto, and to a good many intimate 
 friends and relatives of congressmen in the infernal 
 regions. Armed with these documents, Orpheus 
 put his flute in his pocket and started on his journey, 
 via Chicago, which was then, as it now is, the 
 shortest route. 
 
4£ Walks About Chicago. 
 
 His letter of introduction to Pluto secured him a 
 warm and cordial reception. Pluto gave him a pass- 
 port all through his dominions. He agreed that, if 
 Orpheus should find his wife, he might take her out, 
 on conditions. These conditions were, that she 
 should follow her husband at a reasonable distance 
 so as not to attract attention. Orpheus must not 
 look back towards her; because, if he did, everybody 
 would suspect what was taking place, and there 
 would result a row. Pluto was averse to trouble. 
 Since the Radicals were running things in the 
 United States, they were getting ,sl pretty strong 
 majority in this section; and they were liable to 
 raise the d — euce at the slightest provocation. They 
 were even talking, he observed, of impeaching him, 
 and kicking him out, just because he had not given 
 them all the brimstone contracts. 
 
 Orpheus went in. It was rather a queer place. 
 The first person he met asked him what in h — 11 he 
 wanted? 
 
 As he advanced farther and farther into the 
 murky recesses, he was solicited with strange cries. 
 
 " Mister, heouw will you swop jackknives?" 
 
 " Here's your Advance, only three cents!" 
 
 " Here's yer only regilar copy of Hatfield's speech 
 on the assassination!" 
 
 And thus saluted by the infernal clamor, blinded 
 by the smoke, and half -suffocated by the sulphurous 
 fumes, Orpheus penetrated the recesses of the Tar- 
 tarean regions in search of his beloved Eurydice. 
 
 Strange sights met his eyes; and a clamor like that 
 of Babel stunned his ears. 
 
 At every step he was solicited to participate in 
 some scheme — to share in some enterprise. Now he 
 was asked to enter a partnership for the manufac- 
 
Orpheus in Hades. 43 
 
 ture and sale of wooden nutmegs. Again, he was 
 invited by former members of the Chicago Board of 
 Trade to embark in " going long " on sulphur. 
 
 "Yer see," said one of the latter, "if the Bads 
 carry the fall elections, there will be a rise in brim- 
 stone, sure." 
 
 But the bereaved Orpheus passed on, heedless of 
 the voices, and always bending everywhere his mel- 
 ancholy glances in search of his beloved Eurydice. 
 
 At length he reached the female department. It 
 was in the nethermost depths of the dominions of 
 the Plutonian monarch. 
 
 Here he saw a singular spectacle. There were 
 long streets, upon which were located gorgeous 
 bazars. The spirits of women wandered in and 
 out incessantly, pricing goods, and buying every 
 thing that they desired. 
 
 The torture consisted in the fact that each woman 
 had to pay her own bills. 
 
 In a distant corner of a large shop he saw his own 
 Eurydice pricing some gorgeous silks. Her large 
 blue eyes were filled with tender melancholy ; her 
 soul was pervaded by a nameless terror. 
 
 What thus terrified her was the anticipation that 
 she alone must pay for the mountains of stuff which 
 she was selecting. 
 
 Placing his flute to his lips, he commenced play- 
 ing " I'll follow thee." As if caught by some invisi- 
 ble but powerful chain, Eurydice dropped a superb 
 watered silk and commenced to follow him who ad- 
 vanced before her playing upon his flute. 
 
 It was in vain that salesmen along the route 
 offered her the most magnificent stuffs at reduced 
 prices. Curiosity, the strongest motive in the hu- 
 man breast, impelled her forward. She wished to 
 
44 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 know who it was that preceded her — him of the ele- 
 gant carriage, the melancholy step, and the flute 
 that gave utterance to plaintive murmurings. 
 
 She never supposed that it was her own beloved 
 Orpheus ; but imagined that 'it was a young man, 
 with a heavenly moustache, who had once given her 
 a seat on a street-car. 
 
 Meanwhile, Orpheus proceeded on towards the 
 mouth of the infernal pit. His eyes, directed in 
 front of him, were fixed upon the far future. He 
 saw a beautiful cottage scene, in which Eurydice 
 and himself were the centre pieces, and around 
 which revolved and gamboled fair-haired, innocent 
 children. 
 
 Through the murky gloom there penetrated a ray 
 of light. It was of the outer world. Before him he 
 saw dimly the yawning gates of the sulphurous re- 
 gions. A burst of light poured through them, like 
 the rays of the sun between two black clouds. Al- 
 ready he felt himself free, and by his side, Eurydice. 
 Meanwhile his flute kept on: "Whistle and I'll 
 come to you my lad," " Old Dog Tray," and " Home, 
 Sweet Home." 
 
 Suddenly there rang above the clamor of voices, 
 and the roar of fires, a shriek. Orpheus recognized 
 the sweet tones of his Eurydice. Forgetful of his 
 promise not to turn his head, he looked back. 
 
 He had just time to see a Chicago lawyer offering 
 to procure a divorce for Eurydice in thirty days, 
 without publicity, when 
 
 He suddenly found himself impelled by some tre- 
 mendous power through the open gates, which closed 
 behind him with a fierce metallic clang. 
 
 He was flung through space like a cannon-ball. 
 
Orpheus in Hades. 45 
 
 When he recovered his full consciousness, he was 
 back in Thrace, a lonely widower. 
 
 And this is the story of Orpheus. It is a sad and 
 instructive recital. Let married men then study 
 and profit by its lessons. 
 
 Its moral is this: If your wife gets snake-bitten 
 
 and goes to the Plutonian domain don't follow 
 
 her. 
 
HOW TO QUIT SMOKING. 
 
 tf. 
 
 HERE is a very particular friend of mine 
 who lives on The Avenue. It does not make 
 
 jgpP^ any difference which avenue. Inquiry in 
 
 ^ this direction might prove damaging. 
 
 I may add that, last summer, in an extended 
 trip of several months, and over half the con- 
 tinent, I met everywhere people from Chicago. I 
 made the acquaintance of several hundred of them, 
 and found that every one of them lived " on The 
 Avenue." If anybody ever met anybody from Chi- 
 cago that did not live " on The Avenue," then some 
 one has a different experience from what I have. 
 
 Moreover, I never met anybody any where who 
 knew anybody in Chicago, without it happening that 
 the Chicago acquaintance lived " on The Avenue." 
 People whom one meets on the cars, in steamers, on 
 horseback, or on foot, in- any part of the globe, who 
 are coming on a visit to Chicago, are invariably 
 going to see somebody who lives " on The Avenue." 
 
 The Avenue of Chicago is enormously extensive, 
 and the number of people in Chicago who are on it, 
 is marvelous. 
 
 My friend who lives on the Avenue — it is neither 
 Blue Island nor Milwaukee Avenue — sent for me 
 last Monday night. He is a commission merchant 
 on Water Street, like almost every body else in Chi- 
 cago. He is a man of family — his own— and is aged 
 about forty years. 
 
Hoiv to Quit Smoking. 4< 
 
 His note asking me to come up was in haste, and 
 was very unlike the usual clear, business-like chirog- 
 raphy of my friend. The letters were stranded here 
 and there along the lines, as though they were a 
 large washing hung out to dry, and were agitated by 
 a high' wind. 
 
 I went up at once. Mrs. Brown admitted me, and 
 bore a solemnity upon her face like unto that of a 
 funeral. In response to my inquiries she groaned 
 portentously, and said nothing. She led me to 
 Brown's room opened the door and then went 
 away. 
 
 I was horrified at what met my vision. My hith- 
 erto staid and respected friend sat in an arm-chair, 
 in his shirt-sleeves, with his feet in a bucket of hot 
 water. One of his eyes was severely in mourning, 
 and shut tight. His nose had grown bulbous, like a 
 prize pear, and was of a mixed color, in which 
 patches of fiery red and deep purple alternated. One 
 of his ears had a patch over it; and several black- 
 ancl-blue places revealed themselves on his bald, and 
 once shiny, and benevolent pate. 
 
 His right arm was done up in bandages, and car- 
 ried in a sling. His lips were swollen out enor- 
 mously, and in a way that brought his mouth half 
 way around to his left ear. A long strip of court- 
 plaster extended across his cheek. 
 
 "For God's sake, Brown, what's the matter?" 
 I exclaimed, as I took in the fearful appearance of 
 one whom I knew to be high up in a lodge of 
 Good Templars that meets at the Washingtonian 
 Home. 
 
 " Matter ! " replied the bruised spectacle, in a 
 voice that seemed to percolate through tortuous 
 
48 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 labyrinths — " matter ! you're the matter ! That d — d 
 Sunday Bullpen is what's the matter !" 
 
 "The Sunday Bullpen! What! That Christianly 
 and poetic production the cause of such devastation 
 and ruin as this? No, sir ! Never ! Never !" 
 
 "Yes, The Sunday Bullpen, I tell you ! " 
 
 " But — impossible ! " 
 
 " Impossible, be d — d ! You just listen now, and 
 I'll tell you ! " 
 
 I seated myself, and thereupon Brown proceeded 
 to unfold the following astonishing tale : 
 
 "You know I'm a great smoker. We fellows 
 who supported Grant rather pride ourselves on imi- 
 tating that marvelous leader. So, in trying to imi- 
 tate that great man, I got into the habit of smoking 
 about twenty-five cigars a day. 
 
 " Mrs. Brown, of course, didn't like it. She turned 
 up her nose whenever I pulled out a cigar. Some- 
 times it made her sick, and then it made her faint. 
 But I noticed one thing, my boy, and that was, that 
 when Jinks or Jobbers came in with a cigar, she 
 always said she was so fond of cigars. 
 
 " Well, the old woman got sick, and faint, and 
 sniffed around the curtains, and said 'faugh !' every 
 time she came near me; and I made up my mind it 
 was no use. You can always do the same. When 
 a woman gets after you, you may just as well come 
 down. She'll fetch you in time, see if she don't. A 
 woman will just out worry the devil, when she gets 
 started after any thing. 
 
 "Last Sunday morning one of the boys read The 
 Sunday Bullpen— dern the infernal sheet ! Among 
 other things, he read an article on tobacco, by some 
 M. D. of the name of Johnson, or Jackson. Here's 
 the paper. You look along towards the last of that 
 
 
How to Quit Smoking. 49 
 
 tobacco article, and read what he says about an 
 antidote to smoking." 
 
 Looking through the article in question, I found 
 and read the following: 
 
 "I would suggest, however, to those desiring to break the 
 habit, the following prescription: Take, in the morning, about 
 three drachms of whisky, and smoke none; in the afternoon 
 repeat the dose; continue this three weeks: and if the habit of 
 smoking be not broken, I have missed my mark. You will, prob- 
 ably, always like the flavor of a good cigar; but, with some firm- 
 ness, you can easily overcome the desire. The tobacco being 
 withdrawn, the whisky substitutes itself and dissipates the desire 
 to smoke." 
 
 "Yes, that's it," said Brown. "The old woman 
 had been worryin' me, and I made up my mind I 
 might as well quit. The remedy didn't seem a bad 
 one to take. By and by I slipped out, went round 
 to a corner saloon, and took the prescription of three 
 drams, at intervals of about ten minutes. 
 
 " The thing worked beautiful. I didn't want to 
 smoke, but I did want another dram, and I took an- 
 other. This made me kind o' thirsty, and so I took 
 one more. By this time I felt very sorry for some 
 seedy chaps sittin' around the stove, and I invited 
 'em all to take a drink. I afterwards took a drink, 
 at my expense, with the bar-keeper, who seemed a 
 mighty nice sort of a man. 
 
 " I don't remember very clearly what happened 
 after this. I think I proposed to a chap with a big 
 moustache to go and take a buggy-ride up The Ave- 
 nue. I think somebody got a buggy, and we got in, 
 after taking another dram to keep me from wanting 
 to smoke in public. 
 
 1 'They say that I acted like one wild on The Avenue. 
 Every body was going to church, it seems, and I 
 
50 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 must have played the very thunder ! All I remem- 
 ber about it is, that last night, about seven o'clock, 
 I waked up and found myself in the sawdust in the 
 armory. My hat was gone ; my coat was torn in 
 two, up the back ; my shirt-front ripped into ribr 
 bons ; both pockets turned inside out ; my money 
 gone ; and myself the bruised and broken reed which 
 you see before you. 
 
 " I won't stop to tell you of my frightful horror 
 during the night. This morning I was thrust into a 
 hole called a ' bull-pen,' with about seventy-five of 
 the worst looking he and she loafers in Chicago. I 
 spare you my agony upon being called out in full 
 view of the justice, police, reporters, and public. I 
 was accused of disorderly conduct. Seven police- 
 men swore that they had chased me for over three 
 hours. They said I drove over four children, and dogs 
 without number ; that I lost my hat, and went bare- 
 headed, giving an Indian war-whoop every fifteen 
 seconds ; that several runaways occurred in conse- 
 quence of my furious driving and yelling ; and that, 
 when finally caught, I fought and kicked so that 
 they had to club me severely before I would submit 
 and go to the lock-up. 
 
 "I was fined $100, and was called a hardened rep- 
 robate by the corpulent old hypocrite who tried 
 me. I gave him a check for the amount, which a 
 policeman went out with, and when he came back, 
 I was released. 
 
 " You see, all this happened on account of that in- 
 fernal Sunday Bullpen. I want you to go to the office 
 and stop the cursed thing. If I ever can find that 
 fellow Johnson, or Jackson, I'll mellow his counten- 
 ance just as sure as my name's Timothy Brown — 
 
 
How to Quit Smoking. 51 
 
 see if I don't ! Dern his everlasting skin, teeth, 
 eyes, and toe-nails !" 
 
 "What did Mrs. Brown say when you returned?" 
 asked I, as Brown concluded his lugubrious narra- 
 tion with a ponderous sigh. 
 
 "What did she say? Ker-r-i-s-t ! Wh-e-e-w !" 
 And this was all I could get out of Brown as to what 
 was said by his martyred helpmeet. 
 
 I comforted poor old Brown as well as I could ; 
 but I did not tell him that there was a very material 
 difference between "three drachms" and "three 
 drams" of whisky. Some other time I shall tell 
 him ; and, meanwhile, I invoke the prayers of all 
 kindly souls in his behalf, and to shield him from 
 the righteous indignation of that deeply injured and 
 austere matron Mrs. Timothy Brown. 
 
MILL ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 MAN who was around town much during 
 a certain week, must have noticed that, 
 ^ during the fore part of the week, there was a 
 SJlf' good deal of talk about Duffy and Bussy; and 
 during the latter part of the week, a good deal 
 of talk about Bussy and Duffy. 
 Bussy and Duffy are nob names remarkable for 
 resonance, symmetry, or style. They are not the 
 kind that usually go down to posterity. They go 
 down the stream of time, it is true, but they will go 
 down, as some ships go down — that is, to the 
 bottom. 
 
 During the fore part of the week, Duffy was a 
 great man. There were odds in favor of the popular 
 notion that Mr. Duffy was a greater man than Mr. 
 Bussy. These odds took a tangible form — some- 
 what like $100 to $75. That is, stamps had it that 
 Duffy was the heavier sockdollager of the two sock- 
 dollagers. 
 
 It was observable that, after Wednesday, the 
 weathercocks of public opinion, which had hitherto 
 all set persistently Duffy wards, all pointed rigidly 
 Bussy- wards, as if they had never pointed otherwise 
 in all their lives. How the currents of general esti- 
 
Mill on the Prairie. 53 
 
 mation all thus reversed their direction, and set the 
 vanes to pointing contrariwise, is a matter worthy 
 of description — of speculation — of research. 
 
 II. 
 
 On a certain Wednesday morning of that notable 
 week — week ever notable as the Bussy-Duff y week — 
 many people came out of the mist and centred about 
 the grounds where a certain railroad has not yet 
 erected large and surpassing passenger and ticket 
 buildings. Variety was observable among this 
 crowd. Many looked as if fresh from the arms of 
 sleep. A diffused redness of eyes bore witness to 
 vigils, and mayhap of undue stimulant. There was 
 a noticeable prevalence of breadth of chest. There 
 was likewise a fashionable style of countenance, in 
 the which there were evidences of knuckle inunda- 
 tions that had carried away nose-bridges. Under- 
 jaw was there "in force. There was likewise much 
 large mouth, somewhat of an open carpet-sack 
 order. 
 
 One who looked over this crowd, that had trickled 
 from out the surrounding mist, could not but reflect 
 upon the vast amount of indignant, and deceived, 
 and outraged wifehood, that existed here and there 
 all over Chicago. What remonstrances must have 
 poured from wifely lips when masculine married- 
 ness timidly asserted its intention of going to the 
 prize-fight! What suspicions must have grown in 
 virtuous bosoms when pater familias arose at the 
 unseasonable hour of six A. M., and asserted that 
 urgent business required an early advent into town! 
 
 One prominent atom of social respectability told 
 his astounded partner that he was obliged to go out 
 
54 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 on an early train to " inspect a mill." Oh, woman! 
 even the question of Bussy versus Duffy could not 
 be discussed without exposing you to man's deceit 
 and machinations. 
 
 Large professional and otherwise respectability 
 had assembled in the crowd, and with its high noses 
 and soft, slender hands, toned down the tendency to 
 flatness in snouts, and to bony hugeness in -fists, of 
 the dominant majority, One moving among the 
 crowd, and familiar with the faces of noted charac- 
 ters, could readily discover Brothers Moody and 
 Farwell, Reverends Hatfield and Ryder, Judges Van 
 Buren and Wilson, and many other prominent phi- 
 lanthropists, clergymen and judges, as among the 
 more noted of those who, from motives of delicacy 
 or lack of time, had concluded not to be present. 
 
 Nearly all the crowd, being in no particular hurry, 
 determined to wait and ride out on the cars, in place 
 of going a-foot. 
 
 III. 
 
 And it came to happen that, about high twelve or 
 a little thereafter, some thousand or more people, on 
 this particular Wednesday, formed themselves into 
 a hollow square, which, by measurement with a 
 tape-line, from a reporter with a note-book, in one 
 corner, to a gentleman with a broken nose, in the 
 next corner, was four and twenty feet. Dense to 
 extreme were the living walls of this square. Look- 
 ing from the centre outwards, there seemed four 
 floors of human heads — floors which began some- 
 where in an inextricable jumble of legs and boots, 
 and rose gradually outward, like an inclined plane. 
 Somewhat resembled these four walls the approach- 
 ing sides of a hopper in a grist mill — hence, perhaps, 
 
Mill on the Prairie. 55 
 
 why the central operations of the former are called 
 a " mill." So evenly rose these walls or floors of 
 heads, and so dense were they, that, with but little 
 caulking, they would have shed water like a roof. 
 
 Close adjoining was a hay-stack. Sheltered under 
 its lee was an object at which a small crowd stared 
 curiously. It bore some resemblance to a man — a 
 sick man. Eyes of a dull, milky color; countenance 
 ashen; and bones of jaw and cheek seeming on the 
 point of bursting through the skin. As if agueish or 
 suffering, the figure lay with its knees drawn up to 
 its chin, and hugged an old overcoat about its form, 
 as if to accumulate a little warmth. A heavy fur 
 cap was drawn over its head; and it rested limp and 
 nerveless, chewing straws abstractedly, as if life 
 were an unwelcome reality. Poor devil! 
 
 A little later, and over the heads of the hollow 
 square there comes a-wobbling what looks on its 
 passage like a dead cat flung vigorously upward by 
 the tail. It is an old fur cap, as is seen when it 
 lights. An irregular commotion, cleaving its way 
 through a corner of the hollow square, like a slightly 
 submerged log being pushed up stream. Tremen- 
 dous hi-hi's, and there is evacuated centreward the 
 limping figure of the hay-stack. His head reveals 
 hair close-cropped, coming down to a triangular 
 point on his forehead, like a colossal saw-tooth. 
 Ears immense, mouth an enormous gash. He sham- 
 bles across to his corner in a gait which is a mixture 
 of limp in both feet and a dog-trot. Mainly dog- 
 trot, however; for his head bowing awkward ac- 
 knowledgments to chorused hi-hi's, his slouched 
 shoulders and thrust out arms make him resemble a 
 dog essaying a trot on his hind legs. He seats him- 
 self. It is the agueish invalid of the hay-stack. It 
 
56 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 is the then less renowned, but now the more re- 
 nowned Bussy. 
 
 More semblance of dead cat flopping into ring, 
 more convolutions and wriggles in human wall, 
 more hi-hi's, and the then more renowned, but now 
 less renowned, Duffy. Not a beauty is Mr. Duffy, 
 any more than his vis-a-vis, Mr. Bussy. But a dif- 
 ference, nevertheless. Less slouch, less mouth, less 
 ears. A long face, short upper lip, prominent nose, 
 some front teeth somewhere lost on some former 
 similarity, close-cropped hair, mild gray eyes, a 
 skin with a dash of color in it, and a semi-anxious, 
 semi-equable expression — such, Duffy. 
 
 Adjoining to and hovering about Mr. Duffy, a 
 Colossus, like an elephant reared to the perpendicu- 
 lar, and clad fashionably. In the vast shoulders, 
 bull-neck, little, cunning eyes, and small nose, one 
 recognizes the giant bruiser, McCoole. Diagonally 
 across, and doing the planetary about the invalid of 
 the hay-stack, is a good looking, medium sized gen- 
 tleman, in full suit of black, with plug hat and natty 
 cane. His black hair is elaborately parted; his chest 
 is round and full; his nose immense; his eyes small, 
 black, and piercing; his countenance full, pleasant, 
 and open. He looks like a foreman in a machine 
 shop. It is Joe Coburn, who supposes himself the 
 foremost mauler in existence. Some other lesser 
 lights in parti-colored shirts, and the outlines of the 
 picture are sufficiently complete. 
 
 IV. 
 
 They all feel sorry for poor Bussy. He looks like 
 an old man in feeble health. He sits bent forward, 
 with his clasped fingers holding his knees. Duffy 
 
Mill on the Prairie. 57 
 
 sits erect, calmly surveying the crowd, and curi- 
 ously his opponent. Bussy looks furtively at Duffy 
 and the crowd, like a penned dog reconnoitering 
 for a hole through which, with dropped tail, he may 
 escape imagined turpentine, tin kettles, and mal- 
 treatment. 
 
 There is a peeling of old coats. Then old pants 
 follow suit. Then knitted vests, ragged undershirts, 
 and multifarious underwear; and Bussy and Duffy 
 stand in spiked shoes and tight-fitting drawers. 
 Bussy still slouched, Duffy erect. 
 
 Some body says, " Time." In a fraction of a sec- 
 ond two figures, naked to the hips, confront each 
 other in the centre of the four-cornered "ring," The 
 agueish figure of the invalid of the hay-stack has 
 suddenly become transformed. The slouch has left 
 his shoulders. Well balanced on his legs, he stands 
 with expanded chest, and head well thrown back. 
 All over his arms and breast appear knobs of muscle. 
 Poised like a statue, he seems to have suddenly 
 become the impersonation of power. A smile just 
 lifts his upper lip enough to disclose a row of white, 
 even teeth. Into his dull, milky eyes there seems 
 flowing a white, sinister light. 
 
 Duffy, the favorite, stands easily. His body is 
 round, his limbs slender. He seems more like a 
 grayhound than a bulldog — built more for the chase 
 than for conflict. With his longer arms and taller 
 form, he seems to possess an advantage over his 
 shorter opponent. 
 
 Their eyes are fastened each upon the other. The 
 naked arms work unceasingly, and the two bodies 
 move about as if seeking some vulnerable approach. 
 A moment later and two arms shoot forward like 
 lightning; then a clinch, a fierce tugging and inter- 
 
58 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 twining, and the two forms go down together. Two 
 men rush from each of two corners; two pick up 
 and carry one-half of the struggling mass to one cor- 
 ner, and two take the remainder to the other. Seated 
 each upon the knee of his second, the panting con- 
 testants gaze eagerly at each other. Two bright-red 
 spots have suddenly flashed upon the ashen forehead 
 of Bussy. Duffy sits unmarked and calmly compla- 
 cent. The battle is opened. In thirty seconds it 
 will be resumed. 
 
 Thirty minutes have passed. Upon Duffy there 
 are no marks save here and there upon his body red 
 spots, which look as if blistered. Bussy's left eye is 
 entirely closed. A dark, pulpy mass overhangs it 
 like a cliff. Blood trickles from his cheek bones, 
 his mouth, and neck. 
 
 Despite this, Bussy is not hideous — not even 
 repellant. As he faces his antagonist, his single 
 eye blazes with a determination that transfigures 
 him. He is no more a pummeled, unsightly bruiser, 
 but a hero. Amidst the foam and blood on his 
 swollen lips, there plays a smile, a reflex of endur- 
 ance, which lightens and softens his whole face 
 like a halo. 
 
 Hereabouts lies the savage fascination of the 
 scene. Curious as it may seem, there is just a touch 
 of the sublime about that battered, swollen face, 
 with its blazing eye, and lambent smile touching up 
 the distorted and foam-colored lips. 
 
 Absorbed in the antagonism of the contest, the 
 spectators feel no pity for the tremendous punish- 
 ment. It may even be believed that the men do not 
 
Mill on the Prairie. 59 
 
 feel it themselves at the moment. In the excite- 
 ment, the fierce struggles, the alternating hopes 
 and fears, pain is forgotten. 
 
 "While there was a dash of the sublime, there was 
 a touch of the pitiful. It was at the moment when, 
 torn from each other's grasp and seated upon the 
 knees of their seconds, each turned panting to see 
 how the other stood the battle; and one could read 
 the plainly expressed hope that the terrific struggle 
 which had just ended had also finished the endur- 
 ance of the other. Each time, before the veil of 
 blood was wiped away from the eye of Bussy, he 
 would interrogate the condition of his opponent for 
 signs of exhaustion. And now many times during 
 the hard struggle did Duffy scan with eager anxiety 
 the opposite corner for some evidence that the con- 
 test was about ended ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 All this is about a couple of unknown Celtic scala- 
 wags, who, a month before, were nameless, and 
 whom respectability, a fortnight after, had forgot- 
 ten. And yet these two Celtic nobodies were for an 
 hour transfigured into glowing heroes. To all of 
 which the many very respectable gentlemen present 
 — not the roughs, thieves, or bruisers — will bear 
 willing or unwilling witness. 
 
 P. S. — The writer wishes to add that an attempt 
 to get up a chicken-match, out of the fowls of the 
 above alluded to prize fight, was not a success. 
 
GOING TO THE MATINEE 
 
 ffi hwA . 
 
 TOOK a walk around, the other afternoon, 
 to a matinee, at one of the popular places of 
 amusement. It makes no particular differ- 
 ence which one. Two matinees are a good deal 
 like two peas. After you get in, you can't tell 
 them apart. 
 I went around early to get a seat. Found seve- 
 ral hundred young women and several men, who had 
 gone around early for the same reason. The en- 
 trance was densely packed with a crowd whose tail 
 extended out into the street. 
 
 I reached there just at the same moment that did 
 a sweet young girl with a very white-and-pink com- 
 plexion, a " folio w-me-fellers " over her shoulder, 
 and, on her lips, carnation. She gazed at the dense 
 crowd before her, and then remarked to a gentleman 
 with a dyed moustache, "Watch me go through 
 there, will you, hoss?" 
 
 The lovely creature . squared herself, lowered her 
 head, advanced her elbows — and went in. I availed 
 myself of the opportunity, and followed in her wake. 
 It was delightful, especially the remarks we heard. 
 One superb being proposed to mash the nose of my 
 conductress. Another exquisite thing announced 
 her intention to "go for " my leader. Another gen- 
 tle angel wanted to know, with a good deal of as- 
 perity, who the h — 11 she was crowding? 
 
Going to the Matinee. 61 
 
 As we progressed slowly ahead, all the women 
 who were at the rear of the crowd fell in behind us, 
 and pushed forward. The mass then presented the 
 singular spectacle of a solid body, through whose 
 centre there ran a current. So soon as the head of 
 this current reached the door, the sides of the mass 
 began to form currents towards the street. These 
 two currents, meeting at the street, joined, and began 
 to flow down the middle again, toward the door. 
 Three times did I find myself at the door, and as 
 often in the street. The currents were resistless; 
 the jam was tremendous. 
 
 By and by the door opened and we went in. Ther' 
 was some tall running. The exhibition afforded of 
 pedal extremities was like a picture in some modern 
 flash publication. They were quite as numerous, 
 and a good deal more of them were shown. Red 
 flannel under-skirts are still worn, but very short. 
 
 The agility and other things displayed by the 
 ladies in getting over the backs of seats, and locat- 
 ing themselves in the best places, were singularly 
 wonderful. 
 
 After awhile we got seats — that is, about half of 
 us. The other half of us stood up. Among those 
 who stood up were about thirty engaging gentlemen 
 with dyed moustaches and modest faces. These gen- 
 tlemen arranged themselves around the outer aisles 
 in a position fronting the ladies. 
 
 They appeared to be young men of great wealth. 
 They had immense diamonds, and watch-chains of 
 fabulous dimensions. Evidently they were, some of 
 them, from the Lake Superior mining country, for I 
 heard them talk about "coppering" something. 
 Another of the aristocratic vouths was evidently a. 
 
62 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 theological student, for he said something about 
 having had a " call." 
 
 It was about an hour and a half before the play 
 began. The interim was occupied by the ladies in 
 a discussion of their own little affairs, and in criti- 
 cisms upon each other. There was a tremendous 
 clatter, in which one could hear nothing distinctly, 
 unless addressed to him. I caught scraps of re- 
 marks, to-wit: 
 
 " Is them diamonds on " 
 
 :( You bet they ain't. Where- 
 
 " Where d'ye suppose she got her good clothes, 
 
 if she " 
 
 " Oh my! just look at that hat " 
 
 " Painted', of course " 
 
 "Lives on Fourth Avenue, with " 
 
 " Jim thinks I'm out on the West side- 
 
 " Went to the office and told John I was going out 
 to " 
 
 "Wouldn't have Mr. Johnson know I'm here 
 for " 
 
 " See that feller making signs to me with 
 
 "'Keeps a faro-bank on Dearborn " 
 
 "If you please, ma'am, just keep your elbow 
 out " 
 
 "The h— 11 you say " 
 
 " Couldn't meet you last night, because my hus- 
 band sus " 
 
 6 At eight o'clock to-morrow night, on the corner 
 of State and " 
 
 " My ! what singular ladies these Chicago " 
 
 " Ain't it jolly? Our folks don't suspect " 
 
 " Billy's gone back on " 
 
 ' i Come around to-morrow evening. John is going 
 to " 
 
Going to the Matinee. 63 
 
 And thus the concert went on, mingled with ten 
 thousand allusions to dry goods, laces, poplin, illu- 
 sion, and other things which were Greek or Chal- 
 daic to unsophisticated person, who, like myself, 
 had never served an apprenticeship in a dry -goods 
 establishment. 
 
 The aristocratic young men with dyed moustaches 
 were particularly modest. No one of them whom I 
 saw ever stared more than one woman out of coun- 
 tenance at a time. Some of the women didn't 
 
 stare out of countenance worth a cent. It was about 
 an even thing when some of the latter and the youths 
 with the dyed moustaches got to looking at each 
 other. Whichever yielded first, usually did so with 
 a modest wink at the other. 
 
 -Asa whole I was very much impressed with the 
 matinee. The ladies were remarkably beautiful. 
 They were dressed in a manner gorgeous beyond 
 all description. Their elbows were of a universal 
 •sharpness, of which I have patterns of one hundred 
 and eighteen different ones on my body. They were 
 as modest in their conversation as in their dress. 
 The bearing of many of them was as modest as their 
 conversation. They were calculated to impress a 
 beholder very highly. 4 
 
 The perfumery was elegant. I recognized twenty- 
 seven different kinds of French extracts ; eleven 
 varieties of old Bourbon \ ninety-four of Trix ; sixteen 
 of onions ; besides a variety of others, such as cloves, 
 sherry, cardamon, lager, tobacco, cheese ; and ex- 
 clusive of seventeen other species whose character 
 I could not recognize. 
 
 The matinees are fine things. There should be 
 more of them. They cultivate feminine muscle. They 
 develop woman's love of the drama, her powers of 
 
64 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 observation, and numerous other qualities too num- 
 erous to mention. I did not observe any husbands 
 present with their wives. Nor did I notice any 
 wives present with their husbands. 
 
 In fine, the matinee is a res magna. There should 
 be one every afternoon. It should be some time 
 after noon. The longer the better. 
 
THE OLD MAN'S SMOKE, ETC. 
 
 N a family up town there is an individual 
 known among his more intimate friends as 
 the "Old Man." The Old Man is "rising" 
 of seven years old, and is a regular old patri- 
 arch in the way of knowing things. The other 
 day Madame, who is the Old Man's maternal 
 relative, came down stairs. As Madame stepped 
 into the room, the Old Man had just lighted a cigar, 
 and was essaying his maiden smoke. He sat upon 
 the sofa, with his legs crossed like an old veteran. 
 His parental relative's broad-brimmed hat covered 
 his head, and he held his cigar gracefully between 
 his first and second fingers. 
 
 Madame, being sensible, did not faint, or "go for" 
 her slipper, but took a book and sat down to watch 
 operations. The Old Man had watched for her 
 appearance dubiously; but her unconcern reassured 
 him, and he queried, after a vast puff of smoke, and 
 with immense nonchalance, " What's your opinion 
 of rats?" 
 
 And the Old Man was happy. He discussed the 
 weather with Madame as if he were an old gentle- 
 man who had called in to chat over the affairs of the 
 neighborhood. Madame replied indifferently, as if 
 absorbed in her book, but all the while keeping the 
 corner of an eye upon the veteran on the sofa. 
 
 The Old Man progressed swimmingly. Pussy 
 was called up, and disgusted with the phenomenon 
 
66 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 of an unexpected quart of smoke in her eyes and 
 nostrils. "Bob," a female kitchen mechanic, was 
 invited in by the Old Man to witness how he could 
 "smoke through his nose." He hauled up a chair 
 and raised his ten-inch legs clear to the top of the 
 back, did this Old Man. And all the time he smoked 
 with the coolness of a Turk. 
 
 Life opened up roseately before the Old Man. A 
 future revealed itself through the smoke, which 
 was half cigar and half meerschaum. A cigar was 
 to be smoked every morning after breakfast. A 
 negotiation was effected with Madame wherewith 
 to buy a cigar at recess. In the evening a pipe. A 
 pipe which he was to color. A beautiful, white pipe, 
 which was to be purchased by the sale of a ball, two 
 colored buttons, and a kite-string. Never was there 
 such a future or such a pipe. 
 
 And in thus dreaming, and planning, and chatting, 
 the Old Man smoked — now sending a current from 
 his nostrils, now driving it out with a furious blast, 
 and anon puffing it forth in detached cloudlets. 
 
 The cigar was smoked to the very lip, and then 
 the Old Man thought he would try a pipe. Taking 
 down the meerschaum, he scraped it out scientific- 
 ally with his jackknife, filled it, and resumed his 
 seat on the sofa, and lifted his ten-inch legs to the 
 chair-back. During all this time the Old Man's face 
 was as serene, his smile as genial, and his talk as 
 agreeable, as if earth were affording its highest 
 enjoyments. 
 
 It was an ancient pipe, with much nicotine lurk- 
 ing in its tubular communications. Occasionally 
 some of the nicotine invaded the Old Man's tongue, 
 whereat he grimaced somewhat — nothing more. 
 
The Old Man's Smoke, Etc. 67 
 
 The meerschaum was half smoked out. Once or 
 twice, in the course of absorbing converse, it went 
 out, but was at once relighted with many a resonant 
 puff. The pipe was half smoked, and then there 
 came a single, pearly drop of perspiration creeping 
 out from the Old Man's hair upon his forehead. A 
 moment later another stole from some covert and 
 stood upon his chin. About this moment something 
 seemed suddenly to strike the Old Man. A cheer- 
 ful remark was abruptly broken off in the centre, 
 and the Old Man suddenly stopped as if to reflect 
 upon something unexpected — somewhat as if he had 
 just remembered that his note was over-due, or he 
 had suddenly recollected that his two children had 
 died five minutes before, or that he was to be hanged 
 in three minutes, and had entirely overlooked the 
 fact. 
 
 He took down his legs from the chair, laid aside 
 the broadbrim, and started to put up the pipe. 
 
 "Why don't you finish your smoke?" inquired the 
 Madame. 
 
 " I — b'lieve— I've— smoked — 'nuff," replied the Old 
 Man, as he walked with an uneven step to put up 
 the pipe. When he came back, the drops of per- 
 spiration upon the chin and forehead were rein- 
 forced by hosts of others. A waxy whiteness had 
 taken possession of the approaches to the Old Man's 
 mouth. He stared vaguely, as if looking through a 
 mist. 
 
 Two minutes later, all there was of the veteran 
 on the sofa was a limp figure, white as snow, with 
 head bound in wet towels, and an attendant with a 
 slop dish. A little later, and the Old Man lay white 
 and still, with fixed eyes, and a scarcely perceptible 
 breathing. It was hours before the Old Man left 
 
68 
 
 Walks About Chicvgo. 
 
 his bed, and when he did, he moved about as do all 
 very old men who find the weight of years a bur- 
 den. 
 
 The Old Man has not yet traded his ball, buttons 
 and kite-string for a meerschaum. 
 
^s^ 
 
 WALKS ABOUT CHICAGO-1881 
 
 $- > .C=3£d< < » 
 
 So 
 
A WALK WITH A STRANGER. 
 
 T was one of those charming days of sum- 
 mer which prevails in the metropolis of 
 Great Britain. The smoke from a million 
 chimneys came out upon the air, and, then, 
 intoxicated with the balmy environment, sank 
 languidly into the arms of the white fog that had 
 risen during the night like a white-robed Venus 
 from the sea. 
 
 There was falling a gentle rain. It was an 
 English summer rain; fierce in its rush, cold as an 
 iceberg, persevering and penetrating. It rained 
 down on an umbrella and up into it; it was in the 
 faces of the pedestrians whichever way they moved; 
 it rained from the interior of the busses outward; 
 and left no opening unsearched. 
 
 There came from out the rain into my office the 
 dripping figure of a man. He was tall, thin, some- 
 what stoop-shouldered, and dripping from his 
 ragged attire as if he had just been hoisted from a 
 horse-pond. His hat was slouch in style, venerable 
 as to age, worn, much battered, and running off 
 water like a roof. His hair was long and grizzled; 
 he had a heavy moustache of the same hue, a goat- 
 beard of great length; and on his cheeks a stubly 
 growth of hair, so stiff that it looked as if he had 
 piled his face preparatory to some building opera- 
 tions. 
 
72 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 " You are from the States? " he asked. 
 
 "Yes, I have the honor to hail from that locality. 
 How much do you want? " 
 
 I recognized him at once as one of the several 
 thousand Americans in London who are adrift in 
 the world; and who are always in search of funds 
 to return to the neighborhood of the setting sun. 
 
 "Whatever you please. I have been stopping 
 down at the country place of the Duke of Cork, and 
 I came up here expecting to find a remittance at my 
 bankers, but it was not there. Something's gone 
 wrong, sure. My agent advised me that he had just 
 concluded a sale at $2,000 a front foot for 500 lots in 
 Chicago." 
 
 " Oh, you are from Chicago, then? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, I'm from Chicago. Do you know Chi- 
 cago." 
 
 I answered cautiously that I was a little acquaint- 
 ed with that city, having once been through it some 
 years ago. Every one of these American wanderers 
 has a local habitation, which is usually one unknown 
 in detail to the person of whom he solicits assist- 
 ance. Thus I cunningly veiled my knowledge of 
 the Garden City. It was not a busy moment with 
 me just then. Bismarck was quiet. There were no 
 war-clouds on the horizon of the czar. Dillon was 
 in jail, and Parnell, for the instant, was not shak- 
 ing his shillelah under the nose of the British lion. 
 Having a little leisure, I determined to spend it in 
 unmasking this pretender. 
 
 " So you are from Chicago? " I continued. " Do 
 you know the place pretty well? " 
 
 " Know her! Mebbe I don't know Chicago! Why 
 I know that ere town as well as if I had been her 
 rather!" 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 73 
 
 " How long since you were there?" 
 
 " It's a matter of a dozen years or so since I left. 
 I was in command of a gunboat along with Farra- 
 gut and " 
 
 "Yes I know. All Americans like yourself who 
 are hard up, left the States in command of a gun- 
 boat or something of the sort ; but that doesn't mat- 
 ter just now." 
 
 "It's a fact stranger." 
 
 " All right ; I know it's a fact. But that is of no 
 account. Sit down over that tin boiler so you can 
 drip off without creating a flood on the floor. Now 
 tell me something about that wonderful city?" 
 
 " I lived a leetle out of town on the perrary, near 
 a tavern called the ' Bull's Head.' You know where 
 that is, don't you?" 
 
 "Can't say that I do." 
 
 "Don't know the < Bull's Head' tavern! Why 
 that's one of the fust taverns in Chicago !" 
 
 " Never heard of it. I know the Palmer House 
 and the Grand Pacific." 
 
 " The which?" 
 
 I repeated the names of these establishments. 
 
 " You've got me there, stranger ! I never heard 
 of them." 
 
 " Are you sure you have ever been in Chicago?" 
 
 "'Sure?' You becher your life ! I was born there, 
 and I know every inch of her !" 
 
 " All right, then. Tell me something more of the 
 town." 
 
 " I know the city like a knife. And besides that, 
 everybody there knows me. I was ticket collector 
 for Wood's Museum. You know Wood's Museum, 
 don't you?" 
 
 "Can't say that I do." 
 
?4 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 "Don't know Wood's Museum !" he said in a tone 
 of indignant astonishment. 
 
 "No sir, I don't positively." 
 
 "Of course you don't know Crosby's Opera 
 house !" 
 
 "No sir." 
 
 " Nor the court-house with the jail under it !" 
 
 "No sir." 
 
 " Nor Arlington's ministrels !" 
 
 " No sir." 
 
 " Nor Jim Robinson's circus !" 
 
 "No sir." 
 
 " Nor the two big skating rinks !" 
 
 "No sir." 
 
 " Nor the velocipede schools !" 
 
 " No sir." 
 
 " Nor the big church opposite the court-house !" 
 
 " Not much !" 
 
 And thus he continued for half an hour naming 
 places and men without limit. He was unmistakably 
 a fraud of the first water. I let him run on as he 
 spoke of a millionaire named Honore who owned 
 thousands of acres close to the city limits, of some- 
 body named Walker who was wealthier even than 
 Honore ; of vast lines of horse-car stables that stood 
 opposite the supposititious ' Bull's Head' tavern ; 
 and of a thousand other things, equally astonishing 
 and apochryphal. I was amused with his audacity, 
 his invention, his evident belief that I was a ninny 
 who could be taken in by his professions in regard 
 to a city of which he evidently knew not even a 
 brick or the color of its mud. 
 
 "One thing you must know," he said at length, 
 " and that is the beautiful, smooth, noiseless wooden 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 75 
 
 pavements which have been laid down in the city, 
 and which are the very best thing " 
 
 This was too much. This brazen lie was more 
 than I could stand. I arose, opened the door, and 
 said: 
 
 " There! that will do! Now you get out! You 
 are the biggest liar I ever met in all my travels. 
 Get right out; if you open your mouth ever so little 
 I will hand you over to that policeman. Git!" 
 
 He gazed at me with a furious look in his glaring 
 eyes; but the sight of the policeman was too much 
 for him, and he departed without a word. 
 
 I relate this incident for the benefit of those of 
 my countrymen who may be abroad, and who may 
 — as they will almost certainly — be exposed to the 
 solicitations of pertinacious mendicants claiming to 
 be Americans in need. It is not often that the 
 American visitor is in a situation, as I was, to ex- 
 pose the character of these people. Being a resi- 
 dent of Chicago, and knowing the city as thoroughly 
 as the farm on which I first saw the light, I was 
 able to convict this pretended resident of Chicago 
 of being a fraud without the smallest difficulty. 
 
 But my position was a^peculiar one, for the reason 
 that these beggars, in approaching an American 
 visitor, as a rule, take the pains to post themselves 
 in advance as to the residence of those whom they 
 propose to victimize, so that they are prepared to 
 locate their pretended residence in some other lo- 
 cality. * 
 
 We used to have great old times in this London 
 office. Occasionally an Englishman would drop in 
 
 *For the benefit of those not familiar with Chicago, or its early history, it 
 may he stated that all the places, persons and things mentioned by jthe caller 
 were noted in the„Chicago of a dozen or fifteen years ago. 
 
76 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 to get some information on American affairs; and 
 if there were any of the Chicago gang around he 
 was sure to get all the information he could carry 
 away — and generally a good deal more. 
 
 One day there happened to call in a staid old chap 
 who was in business in the city, and who had never 
 been out of London, or at least had never been so 
 far away but that he could get home to sleep the 
 same night. There was also in the office at the same 
 moment a young and robust liar connected with the 
 Board of Trade, in Chicago, and who had run in to 
 see a Chicago paper, and get the latest news in re- 
 gard to the latest " corner." 
 
 Two women called in one day and asked me if I 
 could tell them the whereabouts of the husband of 
 one of them who had eloped to America with some 
 other woman. He had changed his name, but to 
 what she did not know. She expected that I would 
 be able to recognize him from the description she 
 gave of his personal appearance. 
 
 " Would you kindly tell me," said the English 
 caller, " if you ever knew in the States a man 
 named Johnson?" 
 
 " What sort of a looking man was he?" broke in 
 Young Chicago. 
 
 " I cawn't say 'ow he would look at the present 
 time. I 'aven't seen 'im for twenty years. He was 
 my brother, and he went away to the States, and 
 we 'aven't 'eard from 'im since." 
 
 " Seems to me I knew a man named Johnson in 
 Chicago," said Young Chicago, in a in* sing sort of 
 a way. " Was he an Englishman?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the ether, in an interested tone. 
 
 " What was his first name?" 
 
 " Tummas." 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 77 
 
 " Tummas? Tummas? I'm not exactly sure, but 
 it seems to me that the Johnson I knew had that 
 sort of a handle to his name." 
 
 "I beg pardon!" 
 
 " I say that I think that the first name of the 
 Johnson I knew is Tummas. Do you think he had 
 a strawberry mark on his right arm ?" 
 
 " I beg pardon!" 
 
 " I mean did he have any mark that you would 
 know him by?" 
 
 " I fancy not." 
 
 And thus the conversation went on for a time, 
 until finally the Englishman said: 
 
 Do you live in Chicago?" pronouncing the "a" in 
 the name of the place so as to correspond with the 
 sound of "a" in at. 
 
 " Yes, sir; you bet your boots!" 
 
 " I beg pardon!" 
 
 " Yes, sir, I live in Chicago every time — that is to 
 say, I live in that wonderful city." 
 
 "And where is Chicago? Is it near New York?" 
 
 " Yes, it is near New York; that is to say, too 
 near for the comfort of New York." 
 
 " I beg pardon!" 
 
 " What I mean is, that Chicago, although a thou- 
 sand miles from New York, is still so near that city 
 that the trade of New York is gradually dropping 
 off, its streets are becoming pasturage for stray 
 cows and pigs, and the most of its once happy resi- 
 dents have become paupers. Why, they take up a 
 collection every Sabbath in the churches of our city 
 for the poor of New York, those who have been 
 made paupers owing to the rivalry of Chicago." 
 
 "Now, really!" 
 
78 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 " Fact, sir. Oh, Chicago is a buster, I tell you ! " 
 
 "I beg pardon!" 
 
 " Chicago is the greatest city in this world, or any 
 other one; that is what I'm trying to tell you. Why, 
 did you never hear of Chicago? " 
 
 "Well, now really, I cawn't say that I'ave. And 
 'ow large is it?" 
 
 "How large? That's something nobody knows. 
 It grows so fast that they can't take any census. 
 Four years ago they commenced to take the census. 
 They appointed four thousand men who had orders 
 to commence at the centre of the city and work out- 
 wards towards the suburbs in every direction. They 
 all went to work, but the city has grown so fast 
 that they have never been able to catch up with the 
 outskirts." 
 
 " God bless me ! How extraordinary ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir! Most of them are now so far from 
 home that they send in their returns by mail; sev- 
 eral have died, and not one of them has seen his 
 family for over two years. And then the rate at 
 which new buildings grow up is something astonish- 
 ing ! You have heard of the great fire, haven't 
 you?" 
 
 " The great fire in London, do you mean? " 
 
 "No: the great fire in Chicago." 
 
 "Keally, I cawn't say I 'ave." 
 
 "Well, sir, there was a fire there a few years ago, 
 and in one night it burned up every blessed building 
 in the city, and the wind blew all the ashes away, 
 so that when you looked over the ground the next 
 morning, you couldn't see anything but holes in the 
 ground where there had once been cellars. A good 
 many took these holes and inverted them, and used 
 
A Walk with a Stranger, 79 
 
 them for shops for business till they could get lum- 
 ber to build something else." 
 
 "Dear me! Really? And how did the people 
 live?" 
 
 "Well, sir, that is something quite providential. 
 There is a big lake close to the city, and the fire was 
 so tremendous hot that it converted the lake into 
 boiling water, which cooked all the fish, so that for 
 the next two months the people subsisted on boiled 
 trout and catfish." 
 
 ' * Really ? How very extraordinary ! " 
 
 " You can bet your pile on that ! " 
 
 "I beg pardon!" 
 
 " I mean that such is the fact. Well, sir, it was a 
 sight to see that city built up! There wasn't room 
 for all that wanted to build at the same time, so 
 that a good many built their basements, excavations 
 and all, out of town, on the prairie, and then moved 
 them into their places in town on rollers." 
 
 "Ow! Really?" 
 
 "Yes! Everything was favorable to building 
 operations that winter. The water in the lake kept 
 at the boiling point for two or three months, and the 
 masons used the hot water to mix the mortar with. 
 People utilized everything. Before the fire the 
 number of rats in Chicago was simply incredible, 
 and they had holes which ran under and through 
 the streets in every possible direction. The thor- 
 oughfares of the city were so crowded that it was 
 impossible to haul water for building operations. 
 Now, what do you think was done? They just drew 
 out these rat-holes, screwed them together, and used 
 them as pipes for bringing water from the lake to 
 the various points where it was needed." 
 
80 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 The Englishman endeavored to say something, 
 but the words froze in his throat. 
 
 "Ina couple of months," continued the board-of- 
 trade man, " all the burned city was rebuilt. You 
 never saw anything like it, nor any other man. 
 Everything was of the finest marble, with mansard 
 roofs, iron dogs on the front steps, and Steinway 
 grands in the parlors. All this was done before the 
 people had got the smell of the fire out of their 
 clothes." 
 
 The Englishman still said nothing, but sat with 
 bulging eyes and stared at the speaker. 
 
 " A curious thing about Chicago," said the veraci- 
 ous narrator, " is the way in which we have raised 
 the grade of the city. When the aborigenes, some 
 fifteen years ago, occupied the site of Chicago, it 
 was considerably below the level of the lake. This 
 sort of thing wouldn't do you know, because we 
 must have drainage. Well, sir, they didn't have 
 the least bit of trouble. They saw that the wagons 
 from the country were constantly bringing in mud, 
 and thus slowly raising the height of theastreets. 
 They have depended on that ever since. The streets 
 are never cleaned; and the consequence is that all 
 the time the site of the city has been growing 
 higher, and the surrounding country lower, until 
 now, when it is the fact that Chicago stands on a 
 hill some sixty feet above the lake. We now have 
 a natural drainage in every direction, so that city is 
 one of the best-drained, and the very cleanest city 
 in the world." 
 
 " The listener was still stolid and silent with his 
 eyes glued on the other. 
 
 "It's a great city, you can bet your boots! Why, 
 I've gone down town by a vacant lot, on some 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 81 
 
 street, in the morning, and when I went back at 
 night by the same route, there would be a marble- 
 front on the lot, and there would be lights in the 
 parlor, and people dancing to music as if they had 
 lived there half a century. We've got a fire depart- 
 ment which is so perfect that by means of electri- 
 city, an engine always gets notice of a fire some ten 
 minutes before it breaks out, and is thus able to get 
 on the ground, hitch to a plug, and have a couple of 
 axmen on the roof by the time the thing com- 
 mences! They have an ingenious way of keeping 
 a member of the fire department clean. There is a 
 pole down which they slide when they are called 
 from their beds for a fire. This pole is lubricated 
 with the very finest French toilette soap, which 
 is taken off on the hands and faces of the men as 
 they descend. When they get to the fire, they are 
 washed off by the hose, and in this way, they are 
 receiving constant and thorough ablutions. Over 
 there, the hotels are so large that guests who live 
 in one wing when they are in a hurry to communi- 
 cate with some one in another wing, always gain 
 time by sending their matter through the mails. In 
 every house, there is a small electrical apparatus 
 which communicates with everywhere. By touch- 
 ing the different buttons, you can order a horse and 
 buggy from the stable, a mustard plaster from the 
 druggist, a prescription from the doctor, a clean 
 shave, a bath and a shampoo from the barber." 
 
 Here there was a deep groan from the English- 
 man, and then he fell heavily to the floor. The 
 board-of -trade man loosened his necktie, and then 
 went off to hunt up the coroner. 
 
 I have not seen him since; and thus was obliged 
 to bury the Englishman at my own expense. 
 
82 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 It is just twenty-five years hence ; that is to say, 
 it is the year 1906. There have been some changes 
 in the map of the world since the date when Gar- 
 field was assassinated, and Ireland was in the throes 
 of land revolution. 
 
 Since that time, the land question has been settled 
 in Ireland by the removal en masse to the United 
 States, and the location of the greater portion of the 
 inhabitants in the city of Chicago. Germany, too, 
 has undergone a change. The Brandenburg dynasty 
 is still on the throne ; and the grandson of Bismarck 
 has just been appointed to a high position in the 
 diplomatic service after having run off with the 
 wife of the secretary of the interior. But Germany 
 is but sparsely settled, the majority of its people 
 having emigrated to the United States, and settled 
 in Chicago. 
 
 Chicago has sustained many very important 
 changes. It is, as it was a quarter of a century ago, 
 divided into three main parts ; or rather into two 
 parts and a fraction. One of the main parts is oc- 
 cupied by the Irish element, the other by the Ger- 
 mans, while in the fractional portion are to be found 
 a few of the original American contingent. The 
 Germans occupy all the North side out to, and be- 
 yond what was formerly known as Evanston. They 
 have also extended west and south till they now fill up 
 the region north of what was once known as Madison 
 street. South of what was known as. Madison street 
 lies the Irish section. The former residents of the 
 " Green Isle" and their descendants occupy all the 
 country to the west and south. The native elements 
 hold the narrow strip between the lake and the South 
 branch — such was its ancient name — an d after ieav- 
 ing the river at about what used to be Twenty-sec- 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 83 
 
 ond street, the west line dividing the Irish and the 
 Americans is along the old ground once occupied by 
 the Chicago and Rock Island railway. 
 
 That portion of the city occupied by the Germans 
 is now known as Teutonia ; that which is held by 
 the Irish is called Hibernia ; and that small section 
 pertaining to the American residents is designated 
 as the "First Ward." 
 
 What was Madison street has been widened into 
 a boulevard of great width, and, as said, forms the 
 dividing line between Teutonia and Hibernia. On 
 either side of this boulevard for a distance of one 
 thousand feet there are no houses. The vacant 
 space on the north side is planted, in season, with 
 cabbages; that on the south side with potatoes. In 
 the centre of this boulevard, and running its entire 
 length, is a wall of solid masonry sixty feet in 
 height for the purpose of preventing excursions 
 from one side, or country, into the other. 
 
 The form of the municipal government is now es- 
 sentially changed. It provides that there shall be 
 always two mayors and the one twenty-fifth of a 
 third one ; and that one of the whole mayors shall be 
 from Teutonia, and the other whole one from Hiber- 
 nia ; and the fractional one from First Ward. The 
 character of the common council is also very materi- 
 ally altered. There are two bodies and a fractional 
 one corresponding to the mayoral formation and 
 who legislate for the entire city. 
 
 A provision in the new Constitution parcels out 
 all the municipal offices between Hibernia and Teu- 
 tonia, it being arranged so that each side shall have 
 two-thirds of all the offices. To meet the demands 
 of a situation in which there are four thirds, the 
 bodies are allowed to create new offices ad libitum. 
 
84 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 It has also been decided that there shall be an 
 equitable division of the work of serving the coun- 
 try. Under this system, a citizen who gives his 
 time to his country as an official, is exempted from 
 the payment of all taxes. As a result, First Ward, 
 having no officials, has to pay for the support of the 
 municipal government. For the purposes of gov- 
 ernment, the city is divided into two parts, to-wit, 
 official and taxable. Hibernia and Teutonia consti- 
 tute the former, First Ward the latter. 
 
 The old form of public schools has been aban- 
 doned, except in First Ward. In Teutonia, there 
 are only gymnasiums and Kindergarten schools. In 
 Hibernia there are only parochial establishments for 
 the education of children, and grand colleges under 
 religious supervision, and which are supported by 
 public taxation — in First Ward. There are twelve 
 hundred cathedrals in Hibernia, and not a single, 
 church of any kind in Teutonia. 
 
 All the Jews have been run out of Teutonia, and 
 all the landlords out of Hibernia. 
 
 Every occupant of a house in Hibernia has it not 
 only rent free, but he receives a bonus for living in 
 it. Those who own property have formed a league 
 for the purpose of getting a reduction in the amount 
 of the bonus which they have to pay the occupants of 
 their houses. They have some representatives in 
 the legislative body who are known as " obstruct- 
 ives." Many of them are in prison, and there is a 
 determination on the part of the government of Hi- 
 bernia to put them down at any cost. 
 
 The chief industry among the Hibernians is in the 
 management of distilleries; that of the Teutonians ? 
 the manipulation of breweries. 
 
A Walk with a Stranger 85 
 
 North of the wall the German language only is 
 taught in all educational establishments; south of 
 it, the single language taught and spoken is the 
 Celtic. In First Ward, German and Celtic are 
 taught in the public schools — such being the law; 
 English may be used, but not in any of the official 
 transaction. All public documents are filed in du- 
 plicate, one in German and one in Celtic. There 
 are two newspapers outside of the First Ward; one 
 is The Green Banner, which is devoted to the sup- 
 port of the platform of more offices for the Hiber- 
 nians, and the other, The Yellow Standard, which 
 supports the platform of more offices for the Teu- 
 tonians. There are several newspapers in First 
 Ward devoted to the proposition that taxation for 
 municipal purposes should not exceed one-half the 
 current earnings of each taxpayer, and that a mu- 
 nicipal debt should not be in excess of five hundred 
 per cent of the actual value of all the real and per- 
 sonal property subject to taxation. 
 
 First Ward contains the main business portion of 
 the city, and constitutes, as already said, the tax- 
 able department of the municipality. Every resi- 
 dent of this part is taxed on what business he does 
 do; and rather more on what he doesn't do. When 
 a street needs paving, or repaving, in Teutonia or 
 Hibernia, an estimate is made of the cost, and then 
 the amount is assessed against the street frontage 
 of First Ward. Everything is subject to taxation 
 in this portion of the city. A building is taxed so 
 much for its height, so much for its depth and 
 breadth, so much for the distance it goes into the 
 ground, and so much for the distance it sticks out. 
 There is an extra assessment if a building is above 
 a certain size, and something extra if it falls below. 
 
86 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 There is a tax on some dogs, and one on no dogs. A 
 man with a large family pays a certain amount; and 
 a man without any family is assessed according to 
 the size of the family which the assessor thinks he 
 should have. A man pays a tax on his property; 
 then he mortgages it to raise money to pay his 
 taxes, and then he is assessed on the original value 
 of his property, and likewise on the amount of the 
 mortgage. 
 
 Assessments for taxation are made by two assess- 
 ors, one from Hibernia, and one from Teutonia. 
 The highest assessment is the one which is adopted. 
 In order to stimulate the assessors, it is enacted that 
 the one who makes the lowest assessment gets no 
 pay for his labor, while the one who makes the 
 highest returns receives a bonus of ten per cent, on 
 the valuation which he brings in, and which is 
 added to the tax and collected by the same process. 
 
 Every resident of First Ward, and being tainted 
 with a descent from a family which has lived in the 
 United States more than thirty years, is, together 
 with his descendants, forever debarred from hold- 
 ing any office to which there is attached any profit 
 or emolument. If he have an ancestry of less, than 
 thirty years' residence in the country, and cannot 
 speak English well, and is perfect in German, or 
 Celtic, then, if he reside in First Ward, he is al- 
 lowed a rebate of one per cent, in his assessments 
 both on taxable property and for campaign pur- 
 poses. 
 
 It would be of great interest to go more into de- 
 tails as to the Chicago of 1906, or twenty-five years 
 hence. Enough has been said to give people an 
 idea of the growth of our great city, and to what a 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 87 
 
 glorious future it will reach within this very limited 
 period. 
 
 I met an old settler the other night, in a beer sa- 
 loon, on the West side. The veteran was vis a vis 
 with a glass of lager. There was an expression of 
 ennui in his face. He seemed as he were wearied, 
 digusted about something ; and had not quite made 
 up his mind what to do about it. 
 
 "Hello, Brown, old boy. What is the matter 
 with you? You look as if you had a fit of the dumps, 
 and didn't care if the world does come to an end on 
 the fifteenth proximo." 
 
 He looked at me with a sort of a faded, lack-lus- 
 tre expression that was painful. I had known him 
 for years as one of the very liveliest of the old boys 
 within the city limits ; one who was on hand on all 
 occasions irrespective of the hour of the day or 
 night, whether in midsummer or midwinter, regard- 
 less of whether the thermometer was ambitiously 
 climbing among the hundreds or skulking down be- 
 low the nothings. Besides all that, he is well 
 fixed ; he has a fine stone-front on the South side ; 
 he had a large and accomplished family, and is 
 reputed to have a bank account of no mean dimen- 
 sions. What could be the matter with a man hav- 
 ing all these attachments, a good constitution, and 
 a head which no amount of all-night business could 
 swell beyond its natural dimensions ? 
 
 "Well, that's just what's the matter," said the 
 old boy as he languidly motioned me to take a seat 
 by the table. " Here, you ! twzei lager ! The fact 
 of it is that I am sick. I'm going to emigrate !" 
 
 "' Going to emigrate?' What in the name of 
 blazes do you mean by that ?" 
 
88 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 "Just what I say. I'm going to pull out o' this 
 town just as sure as my name is Brown, and that 
 mighty soon, too, I tell you that !" 
 
 " Well, now go ahead and unload. Something is 
 up when you begin to talk in that sort of style. Let 
 us have it. What is it ?" 
 
 "Well, then, the fact is that I'm tired of Chicago." 
 
 "What! you tired of Chicago! You, the man 
 that has been here since the Pottowatomies vacated, 
 who are one of the foundations of the city, who has 
 done more to build it up than half the rest of the 
 people here, who has got plenty of money and all 
 that sort of thing ! What, you of all the others?" 
 
 "Yes sir, it's me that's talking in that strain. 
 The fact is Chicago isn't any more any place for 
 me." 
 
 " What do you mean?" 
 
 " Well, as a matter of fact, the town has out- 
 grown me ; it's gone so fast that I haven't been able 
 to keep up with it. I'm just as much out of place 
 here as a lobster in boiling water." 
 
 " Well, now old horse, consider that this is a hall, 
 and that you have hired it, are behind the desk, and 
 that you have the floor all to yourself. Let us hear 
 from you." 
 
 " What I complain of, is that it isn't the old town. 
 It used to be a place where you. could have some 
 rational amusement. Now what can you do? Noth- 
 ing ! Don't you remember when we used to get the 
 boys together and start out with a couple of good 
 rat dogs, and then take the town from midnight till 
 sunrise, takin' a drink every time the dogs caught a 
 rat? Of course you remember." 
 
 " It seems to me," said I, "that you are going a 
 little back of my time." 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 89 
 
 "O, bother ! You were there the same as I was ! 
 Where can you find any more of that kind of fun? 
 There are no rats, and no saloons open if there were 
 any rats. They are changing everything. Where, for 
 instance, is the old gang that used to get together 
 under the old Tremont afore they raised her out of 
 the mud, and discuss Chicago, swapping lies and 
 corner lots, until broad day light, and then every man 
 going off home a couple of thousand dollars richer 
 — in real estate — than he was when they came 
 together? No more of that now. You can't set 
 around with a jackknife, and a piece of board, and 
 whittle, and lie, and take in a greeny from the east 
 with a couple of acres of unimproved real estate. 
 No, sir; you can't ! Why all our industries are 
 gone ! " 
 
 "What industries do you mean?" 
 
 " Why all the industries which we used to follow. 
 There is no more of them industries, and there is no 
 money to be made in a legitimate way. Why, I tell 
 you, it was a mighty poor day, fifteen or twenty 
 years ago, when a smart man couldn't make from 
 five to fifty thousand dollars a day ! There's many 
 a forenoon when I have whittled out more money 
 than you can shake a stick at, just by swapping a 
 lot down town for one the other side of the street a 
 little further up, and when me and the other fellow 
 made a small fortune by the exchange. That was 
 a business that ivas a business ! All the capital 
 needed was a corner lot somewhere, and a credit at 
 the nearest bar. Business ! Why, with such a cap- 
 ital a man was independently rich. It may not have 
 been the case that his actual, available assets were 
 so very enormous, providing he had been sold out by 
 the sheriff; but there were all the possibilities of the 
 
90 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 situation, all the benefits dreamed of and hoped for, 
 and these were always up among the millions. 
 There's many a time I've gone to bed on an empty 
 stomach; but I was a millionaire all the same, or at 
 least was to be the next day. 
 
 "Wow, what are people doing for a living? Just 
 downright slavery; that's it, and nothing else ! The 
 old business is busted higher than a kite ! The time 
 has come when a corner lot excites no speculation or 
 curiosity, except on the part of the tax assessor. 
 You can't do any more with a corner lot now, than 
 you can fly by gumming a goose quill under your 
 arm. Unimproved real estate is dropped down until 
 an acre of it is hardly a good collateral for a cock- 
 tail. To do business in these times, you have got to 
 have something besides a jackknife, a strip of shin- 
 gle, and sixty front feet of dirt on some future bou- 
 levard. You have got to have a big balance at some 
 of the marble-front banks; you have got to have 
 your name in one of the books of some of these spy^ 
 ing commercial agencies, with a lot of figgers and 
 letters after it; you have got to work sixteen hours 
 a day for a year to get ten per cent, on your money, 
 and then you don't get it ! " 
 
 " Don't you think Chicago, with its present won- 
 derful business and improvements is an advance on 
 the old Chicago?" 
 
 " Indeed I don't ! I'm sick of the present condi- 
 tion of things. Where can you go now, and drop 
 into a cosy lunch-house, where you can put your 
 feet up on a chair, spit all over the floor, and feel as 
 much at home as though you were the proprietor of 
 the shebang? What fun do I have down at that 
 fancy stone dungeon where I live? Not a bit! 
 When I was rich only in prospective increase in 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 91 
 
 real estate, I lived in a one story cottage, two rooms 
 deep, with the old woman — I beg her pardon, with 
 Mrs. De Jimson Brown — and the four brats, we 
 was happy, I can tell you! There wasn't one tooth- 
 brush to the dozen of us; we just saved napkins by 
 not having any, and by wiping our mouths off on our 
 sleeves; and when we had any slops we didn't have 
 to pile 'em up in a dry-goods box in the alley, but we 
 just dumped them out back on the prairie. We 
 weren't troubled with sewer-gas, or any such non- 
 sense. The latch-string always hung outside, and 
 there was almost always somebody a pullin' at it, 
 too, you bet! The boys used to drop in whenever 
 they had a mind to. They'd just walk in without 
 knocking, help themselves to a chair, or turn over a 
 bucket if there wasn't a chair handy, and make 
 themselves at home. We'd light up some pipes, put 
 our feet on the window-sills, and be comfortable. 
 In them days the old girl was around with a quarter 
 section of her hair flying one way, mebbe with an old 
 slipper on one foot and a broken down shoe, or, as 
 like as not, nothing on the other. She didn't mind 
 pipes in them days, indeed she didn't! She'd sit 
 around with the rest of us and talk hoss and real 
 estate as glib as though she was in the business. 
 And every once in a while she'd let up for a minit 
 or two to spank a youngun, or swab off its nose with 
 the skirt of her dress, or something of the sort, and 
 then go right on with the hoss talk as if nothing had 
 happened. Now, you know Mrs. De Jimpson Brown 
 pretty near as well as I do. Is it your conscientious 
 opinion that one of them old chums, with his breeches 
 in his boots, the yaller mud all over him up to his 
 eyebrows, and his coat slung over his arm, could 
 walk into the front room down there on the avenue, 
 
92 Walks About Chicago. 
 
 put his feet up on the window-sill, pull out a black 
 pipe, light it by scratching a match on the seat of his 
 trousers, and then ' get away with it ' if Mrs. Be J. 
 B. was in that neighborhood?" 
 
 Had I been disposed to interfere in a family mat- 
 ter, I might have very conscientiously responded in 
 the negative. But I said nothing, merely trying to 
 put on a look which might be construed to mean 
 sympathy, acquiescence, or almost anything else. I 
 knew too much of that awful matron to say any- 
 thing which might possibly at sometime be repeated 
 to her; hence I preserved a diplomatic silence. 
 
 "Oh, but I am just sick of the whole business! 
 My gals have been to Yurroop, and since they've 
 come back, I'm too vulgar for anything, I am! 
 Instead of havin' her hair a-flying over one shoulder 
 or the other, as she used to, the old woman now 
 wears it in semibreves over her f orred, and close 
 down to her eyes, and then at night she takes it off 
 and lays it away in a box. She is whitewashed like 
 a new town-pump, and washes her face with a dry 
 rag. When I want to pull a pipe, I've got to go out 
 in the back yard. We don't have any more social 
 games of draw in the front room, or in any other 
 room, for the matter of that. There's always a lot 
 of thin-legged galoots hanging around the house 
 evenings, and I've no more show there than a sick 
 rat among a half acre of tarriers. Oh, I'm used up 
 with this new-fangled city! Marble fronts every- 
 where! Silk curtains, mahogany furniture, and not 
 a single circus, where you can go and have some 
 fun with the boys! I want some of the old times. 
 I want to go out agin after midnight and hoop up 
 the rats for drinks! I want to fall off a sidewalk, 
 muddy my clothes, and go home a-howlin', and have 
 
A Walk with a Stranger. 
 
 93 
 
 Mrs. De Jimpson Brown pull off my boots, and 
 put me in my little bed! That's what I want! " 
 
 "And that's just the sort of thing you hadn't bet- 
 ter harness on to at the present time." I responded 
 warningly. 
 
 "Don't I know that? Don't I? Oh, no! Mebbe I 
 don't!'" 
 
 And then he went out, and very soon I followed 
 both him and his example. 
 

 ARMY AND OTHER SKETCHES. 
 
 £ ^ C=^< 4 3 
 
 OS 
 
A BOHEMIAN AMONG THE REBELS, 
 
 £ NE sunny afternoon in September of 1861, I 
 was sauntering by the Planters' Hotel, in 
 St. Louis, when I suddenly found myself 
 face to face with a short, broad-shouldered 
 officer, wearing the uniform of a brigadier- 
 general, and moving .forward at a tremendous 
 gait. 
 
 " Hallo, General!" 
 " Hallo, W— !" 
 
 "Where you falling back to at this pace? This 
 beats the time you made getting out of Wilson's 
 creek." 
 
 "Fremont's just ordered me up the country. I'll 
 be off in five minutes. Come along with us. Train 
 leaves at 3:30. Just time for a little toddy." 
 
 We went inside, had a " little toddy " mixed, and 
 then the general touched my glass and said: 
 "How!" 
 
 And, at the same time, I touched his glass and re- 
 marked: 
 "How!" 
 
 And then the toddy was transferred. 
 I went down to Barnum's, packed up a blanket, a 
 clean collar, a bottle of whisky, a tooth-brush, and, 
 just a moment before train time, was deposited at 
 the depot of the North Missouri railroad. 
 
98 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 General Sturgis was already there. Two Ohio 
 regiments of infantry were embarked on freight 
 cars. 
 
 Sturgis introduced me to such of the staff as I did 
 not know. We all took seats in an aristocratic 
 caboose, and in a little while were whirling toward 
 St. Charles, on the Missouri river. 
 . And thus began a journey of whose termination 
 I then had as little knowledge as I now have of the 
 state of the weather on the next anniversary of our 
 glorious independence. 
 
 We stopped at Mexico awhile, a week, maybe. 
 Then we went up to Macon City. We were after 
 some bushwhackers whom we didn't catch. Price 
 was closing in on Mulligan at Lexington, and 
 Sturgis had gone up from St. Louis to try and keep 
 the bushwhackers of north-eastern Missouri from 
 going to Price's assistance. 
 
 The gentlemanly cut-throat whom we were after 
 got off one night, and when the fact was discovered 
 he was miles away, heading for Lexington. As we 
 were infantry and he was mounted, it was not 
 deemed advisable to chase him. 
 
 Courier with news to Fremont. 
 
 Courier back in a day or two with orders to go to 
 Mulligan's relief. 
 
 And then we incontinently started for Lexington. 
 
 We took the cars to Utica, on the Hannibal and 
 St. Joe railroad. There we left the road and started 
 across the country to Lexington. The distance was 
 about 50 miles. 
 
 We left at Utica Colonel John Groesbeck, with one- 
 half of his regiment to guard our rear. With the 
 Other half of his regiment, and the whole of tha 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 99 
 
 other regiment, we started to relieve Mulligan, be- 
 sieged by something over 20,000 men. 
 
 To accomplish all this, we had 1,200 men who had 
 never heard anything more warlike than a Chinese 
 firecracker. We had of six and twelve pounders,none; 
 or any other kind of cannon We had of light and 
 heavy cavalry, dragoons, and other mounted men, 
 none. Sturgis had a horse, and I had a mule. We 
 were the only mounted men in an expedition having 
 for its object the penetration of an unknown and hos- 
 tile country, and the rout or capture of 20,000 rebels. 
 
 But Fremont so ordered, and on we went. 
 
 We pushed on like a drove of calves. The Buck- 
 eyes were spoiling for a fight the first day. One or 
 two of them got a fight. They upset a bee-gum and 
 stole the honey, and got stung. Sturgis halted the 
 column long enough to cane a couple of the bee 
 thieves, to put their officers under arrest, and to 
 
 d — n vigorously all thieving sons of , Dutch or 
 
 otherwise. And then we moved on. 
 
 That night, when all was still, there came through 
 the air, from the south, a slight pulsation. It was 
 like a faint tapping in the distance. In the bustle 
 of starting in the morning, the pulsation was no 
 longer heard. An hour after starting it was again 
 heard faintly. It grew from a pulsation into a faint 
 sound. Then it grew distinguishable. It finally 
 resolved itself into the roar of a gun. 
 
 We were 35 miles from Lexington, and yet the 
 sound of the gun came across the prairie, at inter- 
 vals of ten or fifteen minutes, with startling clear- 
 ness. 
 
 Sturgis brightened up. " So long as we hear that 
 gun," said he, "it's a sign that Mulligan holds 
 out." 
 
100 . Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Some of the Buckeyes heard it, and were not so 
 near spoiling for a fight as on the day previous. 
 
 It was on Tuesday, September 17th, that we thus 
 pushed on within sound of the heavy gun. Nothing 
 of particular import happened. Occasionally a 
 butternut, on a lean horse, met us. He was always 
 a Union man. Was always looking for stray horses. 
 The first one or two of these gentlemen were per- 
 mitted to depart. The rest were invited to stay. To 
 secure their compliance, they were dismounted and 
 requested to fall into the ranks. 
 
 That night, no occurrence of note. The next 
 morning, we were up and away at dawn. The heavy 
 detonations of the gun still continued to time our 
 march and our anticipations. Soon after daylight, 
 we saw before us, across the prairie, a dense 
 line of timber. It marked, as our involuntary pris- 
 oners told us, the "bottom" lands of the Missouri 
 river. 
 
 On that Wednesday morning I had eaten only a 
 moderate breakfast. I had reason afterward to re- 
 gret that I had not eaten a heartier one. 
 
 Just before we reached the line of timber, we saw 
 a man watching us from the road in advance. Two 
 or three men mounted on the horses of our prisoners, 
 quietly made a detour, headed the gentleman off 
 and, soon after, brought him back. He said he 
 lived at a little town named Richmond, just in 
 advance of us. He took General Sturgis aside, and 
 communicated something to him. Then the man was 
 ordered to follow us, and we went on. 
 
 "See here," said the general. "We are in a 
 pocket. This man tells me that from Richmond 
 to Lexington it is seven miles, and all the way 
 through the bottom. He says the rebels know of our 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 101 
 
 coming, and some 5,000 men are in ambush along 
 the road. If we can fight our way through 5,000 
 men with 1.200 green troops, we shall reach the 
 river. The rebels have all the boats, and have 
 cannon. We can't get across if we ever get to the 
 bank." 
 
 Just about then the head of the column entered 
 the timber. As it did so, the tinkle of a cow-bell 
 broke the stillness to our left, and a little way in the 
 wood. Another was almost instantly heard from 
 some point beyond it, and then a third coming 
 faintly from the same direction. This direction was 
 toward Lexington. Our approach was evidently 
 being signaled to the party in ambush. The hollow 
 clamor of these bells seemed to have in them some- 
 thing inexpressibly portentous of evil. 
 
 We soon reached Richmond. A halt was ordered, 
 and the citizens shortly before captured, invited 
 Sturgis to his house to take some champagne. He 
 went, and so did I. Two or three other good fellows 
 joined the procession. The champagne was excel- 
 lent for that section, and plenty of it. Very soon we 
 had from one to two quarts each snugly put away 
 under our waistbands. 
 
 About this time Sturgis concluded he could not 
 whip 5,000 veterans with 1,200 green volunteers, and 
 cross a wide river without boats whose passage was 
 disputed by cannon. Thereupon he concluded to 
 take his little force, march to the right, and go up 
 to Kansas City. 
 
 Meanwhile I had held some interesting converse 
 with our entertainer, the result whereof became 
 soon evident. I approached the general : 
 
 " General, I believe, if you don't object. I will go 
 on to Lexington." 
 
102 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 "On to Lexington? On to h — 1, you mean!" 
 
 " No, Sir; not h — 1, but Lexington, I'm a news- 
 paper correspondent, — a non-combatant you know. 
 I want to see the fight." 
 
 " Well, old Price'll hang you for a spy in twenty 
 minutes." 
 
 But I would not listen to the sage advice of the 
 somewhat offended cavalryman. Finally, telling 
 me to go to the devil, if I was determined to, he bade 
 me a gruff farewell. He marched up the river 
 toward Kansas City. 
 
 Accompanied by my friend of the champagne 
 bottles, I pushed toward Lexington. 
 
 My hospitable friend had kindly exchanged my 
 mule for a horse. We were both well mounted, and 
 we went down the " bottom " road " howling." 
 
 Nearly or quite two quarts of champagne were 
 boiling through my brain, whose result was a desire 
 to gallop like the wind, and to yell "like the d — 1" 
 at intervals of about ten seconds. 
 
 We soon reached a butternut picket, at a little 
 doggery or grocery by the roadside. The rate at 
 which we were riding, the direction of our route, 
 and the amount of yelling which we were perpe- 
 trating would have passed us through any rebel 
 picket from Bull Run to Fort Smith. 
 
 With a wild cheer for the Plutonian regions, we 
 dashed through the picket and on toward Lexington. 
 Despite the excitement and the rate of speed, I had 
 time to notice that every tree and fallen log, along 
 the road, was occupied by a butternut, with a shot- 
 gun or a squirrel-rifle. Sturgis would have had as 
 much " show " among these gentlemen as a rat-ter- 
 rier in a hornet's nest. 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 103 
 
 The rapidity of the ride cooled me somewhat, and 
 when we reached the river I was in a condition to 
 take observations. Opposite, on high bluffs, was 
 Lexington. There seemed a vigorous Fourth of 
 July celebration in operation. There was a frequent 
 explosion of cannon, and an incessant rattle of small 
 arms. 
 
 The ferry-boat, with steam up, was waiting at the 
 bank. We went aboard, and soon after steamed to 
 the other shore. 
 
 The streets were full of people. They were almost 
 without exception, sunburnt, butternnt men, who 
 carried double-barrelled shot-guns, or a rifle, and 
 had revolvers, or horse-pistols, and bowie-knives 
 buckled on their waists. 
 
 My companion and myself pushed through the 
 crowd to the headquarters of Price. They were up 
 stairs, in a building on the main street. A single 
 sentinel, armed with a United States musket and a 
 cavalry sabre, stood at the street entrance. 
 
 Bidding me wait his return, my companion, upon 
 mentioning that he wished to see General Price, was 
 permitted to pass in without difficulty. In a few 
 minutes he returned, and we ascended the stairs in 
 company. Entering a door at the left, I found my- 
 self in a spacious room, near the street, and in which 
 was seated an elderly gentleman in his shirt-sleeves, 
 and with gray vest and pantaloons. About him 
 were grouped a half-dozen men, most of whom wore 
 sabres and revolvers, and some sort of gray or brown 
 uniform. 
 
 My companion led me up to the elderly gentle- 
 man, and said: 
 
 "General Price, this is the prisoner I spoke 
 about." 
 
104 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 The old man looked at me keenly, and said: 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 "Well, general, I am not, as I suppose, a pris- 
 oner. I came here of my free will. I am the cor- 
 respondent of the . I have come voluntarily to 
 
 your camp, trusting to your well-known chivalry, 
 and relying upon my character as the member of a 
 non-combatant profession." 
 
 " What is your name?" 
 
 I gave it. 
 
 "Your residence?" 
 
 I told him. 
 
 " You came with General Sturgis from St. Louis?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " How many men has he?" 
 
 " Pardon me if I decline to answer." 
 
 " Which way is he going?" 
 
 "You'll excuse me, General, but I can give you 
 no information whatever as to General Sturgis." 
 
 "Ah! Now are you sure that you are not sent 
 here by General Sturgis to find out my forces?" 
 
 "I can only assure you, sir, upon my honor, that 
 I have come simply as a correspondent, and that I 
 have no intention whatever of playing the spy, 
 either in your favor or that of the Federals." 
 
 There was something in the looks of Price that 
 satisfied me that he did not believe me. He was 
 about to speak again, when one of his staff inquired: 
 
 "You say your name is ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Were you at the battle of Wilson's Creek?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Did you write the account of the battle which 
 was copied afterward in the St. Louis Bepublican?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. i05 
 
 The speaker turned to General Price. 
 
 " General," said he, " I will say this much for the 
 gentleman. That account was a particularly fair 
 one, and seemed to be written by a man disposed to 
 do justice to both sides." 
 
 General Price reflected a few moments, and then 
 whispered aside with some of his officers. Finally 
 he said: 
 
 " Major Savery, you will take charge of this man, 
 and be careful to treat him like a gentleman." 
 
 He bowed courteously and moved to another part 
 of the room. Major Savery, a man with a huge 
 crimson sash worn from his shoulder, a revolver, 
 and a cavalry sabre, led me into the street. I found 
 that he was the provost marshal. He led me across 
 the street, and then up stairs, into a front room. 
 The door was guarded by a man with a crimson 
 sash, a revolver, a carbine, a sabre. 
 
 " There," said the major, "you can look out of 
 the window and see the fight. Make yourself com- 
 fortable. I must look around. 
 
 He went out. 
 
 I went to the window. The college, the boarding 
 house and grounds occupied by Mulligan were all 
 visible. I could see the smoke of the batteries, hear 
 the crack of small arms, and see the Confederates 
 swarming in the ravines and the timber. I could 
 see the hospital with its yellow flag, and could, in 
 fine, overlook the fight very much as if it were a 
 picture. 
 
 Mulligan had already been cut off from water for 
 two days. I thought he must be terribly thirsty, 
 which reminded me of the fact that I was in the 
 same condition. It was close upon night, and I had 
 had nothing to eat since daylight, or to drink save 
 
106 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 feverish champagne. I appealed to the guard to get 
 me something. He could not leave his post. 
 
 Darkness came, and with it some members of the 
 provost guard. They had heard my story from 
 Savery, and they regarded me very favorably. 
 
 I think that, in those days, I could swear, and talk 
 horse equal to the average. Therefore, despite my 
 aristocratic paper collar of four days' age, I "took" 
 with these "boys." They surrounded me. We told 
 rough stories, played seven-up, discussed the poli- 
 tical situation, and I was unanimously voted a " h — 1 
 of a fellow," as somebody worded it. 
 
 My popularity was at high tide, when the door 
 was opened, and a lusty nigger shot in like a batter- 
 ing ram. He was evidently moving under the pro- 
 pulsive suasion of a powerful kick. He picked him- 
 self up with a howl of terror, looked wildly around, 
 and saw me. His black face lightened with a gleam 
 of satisfaction, and he said : 
 
 " Hullo, cap'en, is you here too?" 
 
 I stared vacantly at the grinning face. To me it 
 had no more elements which I could recognize than 
 the sooty bottom of a potato-skillet. 
 
 "Whar you from, boy?" asked one of the guards. 
 
 " Pse from de fort." 
 
 "Captured?" 
 
 "Yis." 
 
 " Do you know this man?" continued the ques- 
 tioner, pointing to me. 
 
 " Know him? Of course I does. He's capin of 
 <de ban'." 
 
 My late admirers understood it. After all, I was 
 one of Mulligan's men, had got out some way, com- 
 municated with Sturgis, and was on my way back. 
 My popularity was ruined. They began to look 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 10T 
 
 angrily at me. I was a d — d Yankee, as one man 
 expressed it. They left me. 
 
 As for me, I took a good look at the grinning nig- 
 ner, got my right foot ready for a kick, which I cal- 
 culated should be the most tremendous kick of mod- 
 dern or ancient times ; hesitated a moment whether 
 I should plant it on the shins, or a broader part of 
 the imbecile African, and then — I walked away, 
 feeling the utter impossibility of any kick propelled 
 by a human leg being able to do justice to the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 The night was anything but pleasant. It was the 
 time of year when the days, in that latitude, are 
 pleasant, but the nights nipping and uncomfortable. 
 While I was en rapport with the swart brigands of 
 the provost-guard, and before the irrepressible Afri- 
 can had interrupted my understanding with my 
 rebel friends, one of them had borrowed my coat 
 wherewith to make himself a pillow. He had for- 
 gotten to return it. And thus, in my shirt-sleeves, 
 I shivered in the tireless room the weary hours of 
 the interminable night. 
 
 There was a dirty quilt in one corner. Upon this 
 the African curled himself like a huge ball of ink, 
 and snored like a wheezy locomotive. At intervals 
 of half an hour or so, the windows of the room rat- 
 tled, and the air was shattered by the heavy roar of 
 the rebel gun — the same that we heard in approach- 
 ing the city. 
 
 I was hungry, frozen and discouraged. I could 
 get nothing to eat. The only drink attainable was 
 an atrocious compound of hell-fire and stench, known 
 as peach brandy. I had tasted it, and it scorched 
 along its passage like a rivulet of molten lead. 
 
108 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 When the negro had announced me as captain of 
 the band, the guards seemed to think me a desperate 
 character. The next man who was put on guard 
 inside the door was a butternut, who had an im- 
 mense sabre, with a steel scabbard, a home-made 
 bowie-knife, a pair of revolvers, and a double-bar- 
 reled shot-gun. He kept his eyes constantly upon 
 me, and his finger on the trigger of his gun. 
 
 A little before midnight the door opened, and 
 there entered a man six feet four, mainly legs, 
 bearded, sun-browned, with a torn, slouch hat, and 
 fingers with long, dirty talons. He glared savagely 
 at me for a moment, and then said: 
 
 " Stranger, d'ye want a little draw poker?" 
 
 I informed him in the blandest of tones that I 
 would be delighted, but I was "strapped," and that 
 I couldn't play if the bet was limited to a single 
 shirt-button. He went away muttering. 
 
 A little later the door opened, and there staggered 
 in a heavy-set ruffian, in an advanced state of intox- 
 ication. He carried in his right hand an immense 
 horse-pistol, upon whose nipple I caught the red 
 gleam of the cap. He lurched into the room and 
 fixed, or tried to fix, his bloodshot eyes upon my 
 figure. 
 
 "Lemme guard these Yankee sonabishes," said 
 he, "I want to shoot Yankee sonabish, by G — d." 
 
 He stood swaying upon his feet, and trying to 
 cover me with his pistol. The guard made no re- 
 mark, but as the pistol was not cocked, I felt no im- 
 mediate alarm. 
 
 The room had been a barber's shop, and there re- 
 mained a single chair, into which, after vainly try- 
 ing to get a bead on me, he staggered. He almost 
 instantly fell into a drunken slumber, during which 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. 109 
 
 he muttered in broken sentences, and gave utterance 
 to half articulate oaths and blasphemies. 
 
 He slept but a few moments, and then roused into 
 wakefulness. He stared wildly at the wall, then his 
 lowering, bloody eyes slowly wandered about the 
 room till they fell on me. 
 
 "Yankee son-of-a-bish — shoot you, by G — d." 
 
 This time he fumbled with the hammer of his pis- 
 tol, and succeeded in cocking it. Again he essayed 
 to cover me with its muzzle, which looked larger to 
 me than the opening of a barrel. But his nerveless 
 hand could not obey the demands of the ruffianly 
 soul, and again he gave up the attempt, and elapsed 
 into a partial insensibility. 
 
 A half-dozen times during the night did he awake, 
 and menance me with his pistol. He was on the 
 verge of delirium tremens. When asleep, his mut- 
 terings, his imprecations, his savage blasphemies, 
 were inexpressibly terrible. Toward morning some 
 of his comrades entered, gave him a tin dipper full 
 of brandy, and a moment later he fell into a stupor 
 from which he did not recover till after daylight. 
 
 There were no other interruptions of note during 
 the night, save that occasionally some swart skeleton 
 in butternut would open the door, gaze in curiously 
 for a moment or two, and, after paying me the inev- 
 itable compliment of calling me a " Yankee son of a 
 — ," would go away. 
 
 Daylight came after a month or six weeks, or some 
 similarly approximate eternal period. Soon after 
 reappeared Major Savery. With him came one of 
 his lieutenants, Charles Martin. 
 
 I related my experiences of the night. Savery was 
 sympathetic. The African, having slept over it, 
 
110 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 took another look at me by daylight, and concluded 
 I was not " Cap'en of de ban'." 
 
 I cultivated Martin assiduously. I was rewarded 
 at noon by being released on parole, and by being 
 invited around by Martin, who was a native of the 
 place, to dinner. 
 
 He had a charming home, a beautiful and intelli- 
 gent wife, and was himself the biggest desperado 
 on the Missouri river. He was not over five feet two 
 in height, and yet, as I have since learned, he killed 
 before the war, a half-dozen men in broils and sin- 
 gle-handed fights. 
 
 He took a fancy to me, for some reason, and we 
 were inseperable during my stay in the Confederate 
 lines. He professed, and I believe entertained, a 
 liking for me, and yet he tried, in a quiet way, to 
 kill me, on two occasions. I occupied a bed at his 
 house, and he slept in an adjoining room. The sec- 
 ond night we came in late, and both retired. I had 
 been in bed a half hour or so, when feeling feverish, 
 I rose quietly and went to the wash-stand to bathe 
 my face. The stand sat against the wall next to his 
 room; and, in moving the pitcher, I made a slight 
 noise. Instantly it flashed over me that he might 
 think I was listening against the wall; and the next 
 moment, in swift silence, I hurried back to the bed, 
 noislessly entered, and drew up the clothes. I had 
 but just done so, when the door of Martin's room 
 opened without sound, and I saw him thrust out his 
 head and his right arm, in the hand of which was a 
 revolver. He turned quickly to the place where I 
 had made a noise a moment before, but there was 
 nobody there. He glanced at the bed. I was there, 
 and snoring. 
 
A Bohemian Among the Rebels. Ill 
 
 The next night we fell to discussing the battle of 
 Wilson's Creek. He said the federal force was 
 20,000. I said that it was less than 6,000. 
 
 " Then I lie, do I?" he remarked in the quietest 
 way imaginable. At the same moment he was stab- 
 bing with the point of his sabre into the sill of a 
 window; but, as he asked the question I saw him 
 "gather himself." 
 
 Had I said yes, the next stab with his sabre would 
 have been directly into my breast. Despite his non- 
 chalance and calmness there were a dozen murders 
 in a glance which I caught of his eye, as he uncon- 
 cernedly asked me the question. 
 
 I am not writing now an account of the defence 
 made by the gallant Mulligan. I have done this 
 before, and the affair has become a matter of history. 
 Suffice it that I remained till the Sunday after the 
 surrender, which took place on Friday. In com- 
 pany with Martin, during the progress of the fight, 
 I visited the rebel lines, and for once was in front, 
 in place of behind, federal bullets. 
 
 I will only acid, in relation to my further experi- 
 ence, that, during my stay, I received only the most 
 courteous treatment, after the first night of my cap- 
 ture. I was afforded every facility for writing up 
 my accounts, and when I left, on Sunday, I was 
 bidden a cordial good-bye by General Price, and 
 was presented with a horse by my courteous little 
 friend, Charley Martin. I recrossed to Utica, took 
 the cars to St. Louis, and was the first to announce 
 to the public the details of the siege of Lexington. 
 
PAP FULLER'S GAME OF POKER. 
 
 'HEN the present President, U. S. Grant, of 
 the United States was engaged in the task 
 of trying to capture Vicksburg, there was 
 j> a good deal of spare time for almost any 
 thing. The particular time of which I speak 
 was in February of 1863, when the Federal 
 army, or armies, lay on the river above and 
 opposite the Confederate city. 
 
 General Grant did not, apparently, know what to 
 do, and all the rest of the army was pretty much in 
 the same nonplussed condition. Having nothing to 
 do except to do nothing, every one resorted to some 
 means to kill time. To capture the man with the 
 hour-glass was as much a subject of planning and 
 campaigning as the capture of the rebel city. 
 
 Accordingly, there sprang into existence no end 
 of pastimes. When the weather permitted, there 
 was base ball, quoits, and horse racing. Occasion- 
 ally somebody got drunk by way of variety. 
 
 I think that a gentleman, Frank Blair, who ran 
 for Vice President of the United States, last fall, 
 could afford some statistics of high interest with 
 reference to this class of pastimes. 
 
 But out-door amusement was not to be depended 
 on. When it did not rain, which it did nearly all 
 the time, it was so muddy that land locomotion was 
 largely of the wading style of progress, Therefore, 
 
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 113 
 
 everybody staid in his tent, or on the boats, and got 
 rid of time after the most available process. 
 
 A fine little amusement, and a favorite one, was 
 one known as draw-poker — called, for short, among 
 its more familiar friends, "draw." Everybody 
 6i drawed " who had $5 of his own money, or who 
 could negotiate a loan to that amount from an ac- 
 commodating friend. But there were a few capital- 
 ists who hung about the steamboats. They were 
 chiefly cotton-buyers, who were excluded by Grant's 
 rigid orders from going beyond the lines. They had 
 money in plenty, and were always regarded as a 
 valuable accession to a "little game of draw, just for 
 amusement, you know." 
 
 Other valuable adjucts to the same beautiful little 
 game were the higher officers, who always seemed 
 to have plenty of greenbacks ; quartermasters, whose 
 resources, considering their small salaries, were 
 amazing; paymasters, who were always plethoric; 
 and some Kentuckians, who were down there watch- 
 ing the progress of events, and passionately fond of 
 whiskey, "draw," and moderately non-committal 
 on the question of the negro. 
 
 On the steamer Thomas E. Tutt, which lay four 
 or five miles above Vicksburg, poker was the fash- 
 ionable amusement. It was the supply-boat of Gen. 
 Steele's command, and was often the headquarters 
 of the general himself. One of his quartermasters 
 was Captain, otherwise and familiarly known as 
 "Pap" Fuller. "Pap" was from Illinois; and if 
 the old gentleman loved anything in the world it 
 was a " nice little game of draw, just to kill time." 
 When I went to my state-room, at three A. M. , I left 
 him indulging in draw. When I got up next morn- 
 ing I found him in the same business, and trying to 
 
114 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 " raise " somebody " out" " before the draw," " on 
 two little pair." 
 
 The captain had accompanied Curtis in his march 
 through Arkansas, and, it was said, he had played 
 draw the entire trip. In any case, he reached 
 Helena several thousands ahead; and this substantial 
 capital was being increased before Yicksburg, until 
 there occurred the incident I am about to relate. 
 
 One day an arrival from Memphis discharged, 
 among other things, a couple of travelers who 
 announced themselves as cotton-dealers. They got 
 on board the Tutt, and very soon, by their plausible 
 manners, made the acquaintance of the regular 
 habitues of that dilapidated old steamer. 
 
 They had plenty of money, and knew nothing of 
 any game of cards. The former was proved by 
 their depositing, in the safe of the boat, some bulky 
 packages of greenbacks; and the latter was estab- 
 lished by their own assertions. Nevertheless, they 
 took a decided interest in the game of " draw." 
 They sat about the tables, looked into the players' 
 hands, congratulated the winners, and sympathized 
 with the losers. 
 
 A man who can learn anything can learn poker, 
 after having seen it played for a week or two. No- 
 body was very much surprised, therefore, to discover, 
 after a fortnight, that both of the new-comers had 
 become participants in the game. 
 
 Both were cautious awkward, and small players. 
 A " five-cent" game was most to their liking, and 
 anyone could "run them off" with a two-dollar bet. 
 But they improved slowly, although they lost con- 
 stantly. Gradually they progressed from a five-cent 
 game up to the regular game of a dollar "blind." 
 
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 115 
 
 Both seemed to like to play at the same table with 
 Pap Fuller. They lost their money with a good 
 grace, and just the proper amount of chagrin over 
 their bad luck and their lack of knowledge of so 
 beautiful a game. 
 
 Quite unexpectedly, one night, their luck began 
 to change. They had astounding luck. They won, 
 between them, something like $250. It was very 
 singular, as Pap Fuller observed. He was the prin- 
 cipal loser. 
 
 " It's d— d singular," remarked that usually lucky 
 veteran. " I never held such hands in my life ! 
 Curse me if they didn't scoop me every time !" 
 
 The next night it was the same, only more so. 
 The two greenhorns were fearfully lucky. The 
 game broke up at breakfast. Pap Fuller was some 
 $300 out. 
 
 I found the old gentleman, a couple of hours later, 
 sitting dejectedly in his state-room. A tumbler of 
 whisky cheered his solitude. 
 
 " See here," said the captain, with a most lugubri- 
 ous shake of the head, " I'm cussed if I see into this 
 'ere little arrangement. Nobody ever beat old Pap 
 Fuller in that style afore, especially two green uns 
 never done it. The old man is playin' out, I 
 reckon." And he concluded his oration with a pro- 
 found sigh. 
 
 All that day Pap was invisible, save to one or two. 
 I called at his state-room once or twice. He occu- 
 pied precisely the same position. He muttered to 
 himself constantly. " Every time I had ' threes' 
 one on 'em or the tother had a ' flush.' Ef I had two 
 little pair, one or tother of 'em was sure to lay over 
 me — especially one or tother on 'em had the deal ! 
 
116 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Green are they ? Well, now, p'r'aps, and then again, 
 p'r'aps not. Pap, you're a cussed old idiot." 
 
 In this sort of way the captain delivered himself, 
 talking sometimes to me and sometimes to himself. 
 
 And so the day wore away. Night came, and 
 with it, poker. Then, and not till then, did Pap 
 emerge from his den. 
 
 I looked curiously at the old man. He seemed 
 somewhat subdued and humiliated. He took his 
 seat at the table. The two strangers were already 
 in place. 
 
 The game began, and the captain lost. At mid- 
 night he had lost $400. The two cotton-buyers were 
 the " big" winners. 
 
 "See here, boys," said Pap, "I'm losing a good 
 deal of money. Let's change the ante and see if it 
 will change the luck." 
 
 "How much?" queried one of the cotton-buyers. 
 
 "Well, let's make the < blind' $25." 
 
 I was astounded. The cotton-buyers objected, but 
 I detected a gleam of satisfaction in the eyes of both, 
 despite their objections. I feared they would yield 
 — and they did. 
 
 My first impression was that old Pap had become 
 insane, or utterly reckless. Nevertheless, there was 
 a tightening of his lips that indicated something. I 
 placed myself behind him to watch his hand. I ex- 
 pected something, I knew not what. 
 
 His manner of discarding surprised me. Every 
 time the deal was with one of the cotton buyers, Ful- 
 ler would get a small pair. When the hands were 
 " helped" there came to him " threes." Instead of 
 keeping the pair, he began to discard it, keeping an 
 ace and king whenever he had them. 
 
Pap Fuller'® Game of Poker, 117 
 
 Several times he could have made a "full" had he 
 kept his " pair." I began to think he was mad. He 
 lost, but not much. Occasionally he would " call" 
 a hand, but generally, with an anathema on his 
 luck, he threw up his cards. I only saw that he was 
 holding an ace and king when he could get them, 
 and throwing away good pairs. 
 
 By-and-by it happened that he got a pair of jacks, 
 an ace, king, and another. He discarded the jacks, 
 held the ace and king, and called for three cards. 
 To my unbounded astonishment, when the hands 
 were helped, he received three kings. 
 
 He now held four kings, with an ace, the highest 
 hand in the game! In a moment the whole policy 
 of the wary old rat flashed over me. 
 
 He led off by betting $10. The next man " went 
 out." The next was one of the cotton dealers. He 
 raised the captain $25. The next man was the other 
 dealer, and he, after some pretended anxiety, "went 
 $50 better." The next man passed out. To his left 
 was Pap. 
 
 The veteran's face seemed to express infinite dis- 
 satisfaction over the heavy betting. He hesitated, 
 and then " saw " the $50 " better." 
 
 The first cotton man deliberated awile, and then 
 raised the pile $100. No. 2 was astounded at such 
 heavy betting, thought of laying down, but finally 
 " went over " his friend. Again Pap called the man 
 on his right. 
 
 In this way the betting went on. Fuller always 
 called the last man, and the other going a little 
 higher each time. In a few minutes the amount on 
 the table reached the respectable sum of $1,700. 
 
 Up to this point the bets had been by fifties and 
 hundreds. At this juncture the captain reached in- 
 
118 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 to his inside vest pocket, and pulled out an enormous 
 roll of bills. 
 
 "Gentlemen/' said he, "I'm going to make a 
 spoon or spoil a horn. I raise that last $2,000;" so 
 saying he laid four $500 bills on the piles. 
 
 The cotton dealers seemed suddenly taken aback. 
 They shot suspicious glances at the cast-iron visage 
 of old Pap, but it was as void of expression as the 
 face of an anvil. They studied, hesitated, and 
 shifted about uneasily. Finally one of them went 
 up to the safe of the boat and brought out their 
 pile. It was just large enough for one of them to 
 call. He " called " Fuller, and the other" went out." 
 
 The cotton dealer had four tens. The captain ex- 
 hibited his four kings and raked down the enor- 
 mous pile of greenbacks. 
 
 The cotton-dealers turned decidedly pale, and sat 
 speechless and stupefied. Soon after, without a 
 word, they withdrew to their state-rooms. 
 
 "You see, my boy," said Pap, as he poured me 
 out a little "commissary," "I made up my mind 
 them fellows were sharp. Nobody ever beat me in 
 a square ' game ' as they've beat me for the last 
 week." 
 
 " That is so." 
 
 " So I studied the thing out. I wasn't going to 
 squeal. You seen how I worked it. I just held on 
 to an ace and king, knowing that bimeby the rest 
 would come along. Bimeby they did come. Them 
 cussed fools had put up the keards, and they thought 
 I had a king ' full ' with jacks. But you see I didn't. 
 Oh, no, I guess not." 
 
 And the captain proceeded to arrange, and lay 
 away, in an iron chest, his winnings, which amount- 
 ed to something over $5,000. 
 
 
Pap Fuller's Game of Poker. 119 
 
 "I'mmore'n even with 'em, I reckon," said the 
 veteran, with a satisfactory shake of his grizzly 
 head. 
 
 The next day, the two sharpers borrowed enough 
 of old Pap to pay their fare to St. Louis. They left 
 in the next boat, and were never again seen in the 
 vicinity of the Tutt or Pap Fuller. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS OF GEN. FRED. 
 STEELE. 
 
 Blpr was in 1861 that I became acquainted with 
 jP the gallant gentleman whose name heads 
 these recollections. It was in July. At 
 that time, Lyon, at the head of a small force, 
 composed of three-months' volunteers — some 
 "Missouri Dutchmen," as they were popularly 
 termed — was crossing Missouri^ from Booneville to 
 Springfield. 
 
 One night, just before dark, Lyon's little command 
 reached the Osage Crossing, where we met another 
 force, consisting of some Kansas cavalry and a bat- 
 talion of regular infantry, under command of Major 
 Sturgis. To our eyes there was nothing ever half 
 so warlike and redoubtable as this squadron of Kan- 
 sas cavalry, as it was drawn up in line to receive us. 
 With their carbines slung over their shoulders, and 
 their long steel sabres, the men seemed, to our un- 
 sophisticated vision to be invincible. A sentiment 
 akin to pity percolated through my thoughts as I 
 thought of the rebels who should be doomed to meet 
 these heroes. 
 
 That evening was occupied, after the camp had 
 been established, in visiting the new-comers. Being 
 a member of that gallant band known as "Bohe- 
 mians," I had the privilege of going where and doing 
 about as I pleased. Therefore, when the colonel, 
 
Recollections of Gen. Fred, Steele. 121 
 
 who did me the honor to share with me his tent, 
 mess, and bottle, went over to pay his respects to 
 Major Sturgis, I was invited to grace the occasion. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was there a more representative 
 military crowd than was embodied in the majority 
 of those gathered that evening in Major Sturgis' 
 tent. There were the genial "Sam. Sturgis," — so 
 termed by his familiars of the regular army, — Capt. 
 Gordon Granger, Capt. Dan. Heuston, Capt. Totten, 
 Capt. Fred. Steele, Lieuts. Sokalski, Sullivan, and 
 others, — many of whom have since achieved a world- 
 wide reputation; and of whom some, alas ! have 
 passed forever beyond the domain of convivial 
 gatherings. 
 
 At that time, as every one knows, a regular army 
 officer was something for the mass to look up to. I 
 well remember the momentary daze which came 
 over me as I was introduced to so many luminaries 
 that had risen in the orient of West Point. It speaks 
 volumes, likewise, for the suavity of these gentle- 
 men, to state that, although ununif ormed and intro- 
 
 dvced as plain Mr. , and without any allusion 
 
 being made to my profession, not one of these men, 
 during the evening, forgot or mispronounced my 
 name, or ignored my presence, in the lively and 
 prolonged conversation which ensued. Such an 
 example of politeness, let me add, is not uncommon 
 among the older army officers, although it is unfre- 
 quent among no small number of their successors. 
 
 I met, on that evening, two events — if I may so 
 term them — which I had never met before, and 
 which I am certain never to forget. One of these 
 "events" — may his shade pardon me! — was Capt. 
 Fred. Steele; and the other "event" was the 
 
122 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 elixir vitce, the nectar of the regular army, — whisky 
 toddy. 
 
 Introductions were no more than ended when 
 Sturgis remarked: 
 
 "Orderly, get out the materials. Gentlemen, I 
 want you to taste some of Steele's toddy. He is the 
 best toddy-maker in the world ! " 
 
 The delicate, slender, light-featured Capt. Steele 
 came modestly forward, and, almost blushing under 
 the encomiums of his chief, went to work. How 
 carefully and artistically he labored ! So much of 
 the pure sugar, so much water, so much rye; a drop 
 more or less, a grain too many or little, were ruin — 
 were a catastrophe worse than a daub of house-paint 
 in the face of Correggio's Magdalene. The ingre- 
 dients mixed with a precision greater than that of a 
 druggist who puts up a prescription wherein a sin- 
 gle additional grain makes the whole a deadly 
 poison, — then came the quaffing. The small, white 
 hand of Steele passed around the tin cups, and then, 
 with a gutteral "How!" each man inverted his 
 measure just above his lower lip. 
 
 Ye gods ! io triumphe ! — I shall never forget the 
 delicious sensation which stole through my system, 
 like slow- moving, electric flashes, as the concoction 
 ran down my throat. The brew of Steele is abso- 
 lutely indescribable. 
 
 Accedant capiti cornua, Bacchus eris, 
 
 But, in that tent on the Osage, one needed not to 
 put on horns to become Bacchus; he, the rather, 
 swallowed a "horn" of Steele's concoction, and 
 straightway became a god. 
 
 Such are my first recollections of Steele. He 
 struck me then for his finished elegance of manner. 
 
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 123 
 
 As toddy succeeded toddy, voices grew louder, and 
 bursts of laughter rang out wide through the forest. 
 Steele alone did not become boisterous. His pale 
 cheeks simply became delicately tinted, as if from a 
 touch of rouge; his blue eyes lighted up, as if from 
 inspiration; and his thin voice became stronger, but 
 not louder, as the wassail grew fast and furious. 
 
 Steele was never demonstrative. And so the cool- 
 ness with which he faced the iron and leaden storm 
 at Wilson's Creek was not recognized as a trait 
 requiring universal panegyric or immediate promo- 
 tion. 
 
 The next time I saw him was at Helena, in No- 
 vember of 1862. He was in command of the post. 
 Wishing facilities for getting about, I called at his 
 headquarters. I wrote my request on a card, and 
 sent it in by an orderly. He returned almost instantly 
 with a request to come in. A shaking of hands, 
 and then an adjournment to a small room adjoining, 
 in which was a sideboard, and on which was a row 
 of gleaming decanters. Close by was sugar; and 
 soon there came water! Steele, although then a 
 major-general, had not forgotten his cunning. He 
 mixed as dextrously as when a captain; and I could 
 not taste the slightest depreciation in the character of 
 his production. 
 
 It was but a little later that Sherman's force 
 decencled the Mississippi river and debarked on the 
 Yazoo bottom. I accompanied General Steele on 
 the steamer " Continental " We overtook Christ- 
 mas, or Christmas overtook us, on our way down. 
 The grand old anniversary was celebrated in due 
 form. I retired soon after dark to escape what I knew 
 would prove an all-night symposium. For hours, 
 sleep was chased away by a jollity that found vent 
 
124 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 in song, anecdote, and laughter. The next morning 
 saw a humbled crowd among those who, toward 
 noon, crept painfully from their berths. Steele 
 alone was an exception. Up betimes in the morn- 
 ing, his eye was as clear, his voice as free from 
 huskiness, and his hand as firm as though the pre- 
 ceding night had been one of profound repose. 
 
 And here, as I approached the battle of Chickasaw 
 Bayou, let me diverge to state something which I do 
 not think was ever before published. On the night 
 that we reached Johnson's Landing, on the Yazoo, a 
 party of us gathered in the " texas " of a steamer, to 
 while away the evening with a game of cards. One 
 of the players was Colonel John B. Wyman, whose 
 name will meet with universal recognition. Who 
 the other players were, does not matter. 
 
 All that evening Wyman was abstracted and un- 
 easy. When playing, he played badly and care 
 lessly, as if his mind were on some other subject. 
 Between the deals he would rise and pace the nar- 
 row room, with bowed head and preoccupied air. 
 
 "What is it, colonel?" I asked. 
 
 " I don't know, myself. I think I shall fight to- 
 morrow. My boys have never had a brush yet. I 
 want them to do well." 
 
 "They will, of course ! " 
 
 "Oh, yes, I'll bet they will! But, Christ! how 
 uneasy I am. I wish I could hear from home. My 
 
 wife " and here his voice sank into a mutter 
 
 which was indistinguishable. 
 
 And so till midnight. As we were about to part 
 for the night, I said: 
 
 " Colonel, if you take your boys on the bluff to- 
 morrow, it will give you a star." 
 
Recollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 125 
 
 "Yes, I know; but something will happen, I am 
 
 sure." 
 
 And then, with a preoccupied air, he added, as if 
 to himself, " If I could only hear from home — from 
 my wife " 
 
 And I heard no more. The next morning, in a 
 preliminary movement, he was shot through the 
 lungs. In less than twenty-four hours after we 
 parted, I saw him again — this time a corpse. 
 
 Just before dark Steele moved his command, on 
 the extreme federal left, into position, in front of 
 the rebel lines. We pushed out along a high levee, 
 and then the command deployed off to the left and 
 lay down. It was as dark as Erebus, and cold as 
 the lowermost of Dante's hells. An assault had been 
 ordered at daylight next morning. As we were 
 under the rebel guns, no fires could be lighted. 
 
 Just before daybreak, Steele's orderly built a little 
 fire behind the gnarled roots of an immense cedar, 
 and proceeded to boil some coffee. Around the tiny 
 blaze were gathered General Steele; Hovey, of the 
 Illinois Normal School; Thayer, of Nebraska; and 
 myself. 
 
 A day or two before I had picked up a copy of 
 Andrew's Ovid, near some deserted house. As we 
 gathered about the fire, Steele noticed the end of the 
 book protruding from my haversack. He pulled it 
 out and opened it. Turning by chance to the ac- 
 count of the nuptials of Perseus and Andromeda, he 
 read aloud, giving a line in Latin, and then render- 
 ing it in English. At length he came to the passage: 
 
 " pennisque fugacem 
 Pegason et fratrem, matris de sanguine." 
 
 Here he seemed to have some doubt as to the pre- 
 cise meaning of a word. Then occurred a discussion 
 
126 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 which was classical and profound, and might have 
 continued indefinitely had not Hovey given an opin- 
 ion, which, owing to his Normal School precedents, 
 was acquiesced in as being beyond appeal. 
 
 I relate this little incident simply to show Steele's 
 complete indifference to danger. Not half a mile 
 away lay a line of rebel rifle pits which were to be 
 stormed. Just beyond them rose heights bristling 
 with heavy guns, every one of which commanded 
 our camp. An attack was expected to be made 
 within a few minutes, and which everybody knew 
 must be a failure. And yet, at this precise moment, 
 Steele was as cool and unruffled as if the next move 
 were to be to breakfast instead of battle. When the 
 moment came for attack, Steele moved forward 
 along a road swept by rebel guns as coolly as if he 
 were leading his company at dress parade. 
 
 I might relate any number of instances of Steele's 
 behavior in battle, every one of which would prove 
 him a man who, if not absolutely insensible to fear, 
 never allowed the shadow of apprehension to dwell 
 upon his face. Once, on the march from Jackson, to 
 Vicksburg, I saw him enter a store alone which was 
 filled with a maddened crowd of Federal soldiers, 
 who were drunk to desperation, and who presented 
 their loaded muskets at the breasts of their own 
 officers. With only a small revolver in his hand, he 
 dashed into the centre of the howling mass, and in 
 three minutes he had driven every ruffian into the 
 street. There was a murderous glare in his eye, 
 and a compression of his lips, which carried a mean- 
 ing that no one of the plundering horde could mis- 
 understand. 
 
 Of his charges on the 19th of May, at Vicksburg, 
 and his subsequent military career, I need not speak. 
 
Eecollections of Gen. Fred. Steele. 127 
 
 In every instance he showed himself impervious to 
 danger. 
 
 As a commander, Steele was better calculated to 
 lead a corps under somebody else, than he was to 
 have charge of an independent department. He 
 preferred to execute rather than to plan. It left 
 him a leisure on his hands which he could devote 
 to social intercourse and intellectual cultivation. 
 
 I believe he was not married at the time of his 
 death. He was always an ardent admirer of wo- 
 men, but mainly in the old, chivalrous way. Full 
 of anecdote and reminiscence, he yet never made 
 the frailities of woman the theme of such relation. 
 In all his acts he treated the sex with a courtly, re- 
 spectful tenderness. 
 
 His hospitality was unbounded, providing his 
 guests possessed geniality. His mess was always a 
 crowded one, most of whom were invited partici- 
 pants. Any man who was cultivated was always 
 sure of finding himself welcome. 
 
 The intelligence of his death will cause a wide 
 and profound sorrow. Those who know him well 
 entertain a respect for his memory second to that 
 felt for no illustrious man whom the country has 
 lost since the beginning of the rebellion. 
 
 I will close these recollections with a sketch which 
 I once made of the appearance of Gen. Steele, at a 
 time, in 1863, when I was in daily intercourse with 
 him. 
 
 * * * Like a Geneva watch, he presents but 
 little surface. His merits, the fine machinery and 
 exquisite balance, are all within. A small and well- 
 knit man of 38 ; with a hand delicate and white as 
 a lady's ; light complexion, only preserved from 
 effeminacy by a flowing beard ; eyes of light .blue, 
 
128 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 and a full, compact forehead ; dress neat, elegant, 
 with a touch of velvet about the cuff and collar ; 
 always free from dust, and as clean as if stepping 
 out for a dress-parade at his alma mater — West 
 Point — such are the outer peculiarities of General 
 Steele. Without ever being over-dressed, he is, I 
 think, the best dressed and best mounted man in the 
 army. His prevailing trait is quietness,— a gentle- 
 manly sort of repose, — which he carries with him 
 undisturbed, whether doing the honors of the table 
 to his friends, or directing the movements of a storm- 
 ing party, amidst the roar of fiercest battle. Few 
 soldiers among volunteers love, but all respect him. 
 As a strict, unyielding disciplinarian, he frequently 
 excites their dislike; but his unruffled calmness 
 when surrounded by the surging waves of battle; 
 his pre-eminent skill in guiding their movements; 
 and the lightning-like rapidity with which he adapts 
 himself to the new combinations created in a con- 
 flict — compel their admiration, and have won their 
 highest respect. 
 
 He chats with you unconcernedly up to the very 
 moment he enters a battle; and, the instant it is 
 over, resumes his sociability, and discourses upon 
 general subjects as if the affair through which he 
 had passed were of as little account as washing his 
 hands for dinner. 
 
SOME PEOPLE I HAVE MET. 
 
 £& 
 
 H^ N the latter part of 1862, for several months, 
 f I was in Washington. At that time almost 
 everybody of note was at the front; but now 
 and then the capital was enlivened by the 
 M presence of some one who was worth taking a 
 ^ second look at. 
 
 I was standing one day in front of the Metropoli- 
 tan, in company with a son of Dr. Tom Edwards. 
 
 '• Do you see that little cuss coming along yon- 
 der?" inquired my companion, as he pointed up the 
 avenue. 
 
 Following the line of his index finger, there ap- 
 peared what I, at first, took to be a boy. It was an 
 individual scarcely more than four feet nine, and 
 slender in proportion. He approached us at a tear- 
 ing gait for such an infant. His slender legs were 
 alternately planting a delicate patent leather boot 
 on the sidewalk in what was the double-quick of 
 going on a walk. A little cane kept time, like a pen- 
 dulum made of astraw, to the swift movement of his 
 extremities. A little eye-glass bestrode a rather 
 large nose; a low-crowned hat was on a small head. 
 
 All this I took in as he approached us. The next 
 moment he shot by us like an infant hurricane. 
 I had but just time to notice that he had the Fed- 
 eral eagles on his shoulders, that he was, although 
 
130 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 whiskerless, wrinkled up to about forty-five, and 
 that he marched with the upper portion of his body 
 bent forward, while his eyes were fixed immovably 
 upon the ground, at the regulation distance of fif- 
 teen paces to the front, as if he were deeply preoc- 
 cupied: 
 
 " Can't say I do know him. I should say he is a 
 very old young man, or a very young old man. 
 Who is he, any how?" 
 
 "That's Prince Salm Salm." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Yes. A fighter, too, he is ! I saw him at Bull 
 Eun. I was running away one way on foot, when I 
 met him running away the other way on a horse. I 
 just ketched his bridle, and says I, ' Look here, cap- 
 ten, we want that horse for the artillery!' He 
 jumped off without a word and struck out on exactly 
 the same gait that I had just been falling back on. 
 I slid into his saddle and kept on falling back till I 
 got to Washington." 
 
 The next time I saw the noble infant, he was 
 gorgeous in Federal uniform. On his right arm, and 
 towering a full head above him, was a royal dame, 
 who, although not really tall, rose to a Juno-like 
 stature, when contrasted with her slender protector. 
 Her eyes were large, liquid, and filled with a sort of 
 oriental languor. They were a blue-black, and 
 seemed to express infinite tranquillity and self-pos- 
 session. Her hair was very heavy, of a very dark 
 brown, and was carried back in bands after a style 
 which I can not describe, but which gave force to 
 the character of her head without detracting from 
 the womanly softness of her face. Her lips were 
 full, her mouth handsomely cut, her complexion a 
 mixture, as if it were the results of combining the 
 
Some People I Have Met. 131 
 
 more delicate light and shadow of the blonde and 
 brunette with the least possible predominance of 
 the latter. Her dress was very rich, and yet in 
 no respect gaudy. Her movement was erect and 
 elastic, her bearing a compromise between haughti- 
 ness and gentleness, with a perceptible dash of 
 both. 
 
 In age, she was about twenty-four; and in appear- 
 ance, she was a woman whom a man would first 
 glance at wonderingly, and then turn to look at 
 admiringly. Such was the Princess Salm Salm, as 
 I then, and frequently after, saw her, arm in arm, 
 on Pennsylvania Avenue, with her diminutive hus- 
 band. 
 
 One night, Washington was ablaze with excite- 
 ment. General Corcoran had returned from a South- 
 ern prison, and there was to be a reception, a sere- 
 nade, and speeches, at Willard's. At the appointed 
 time, I sauntered down to the hotel, in front of a 
 balcony, from whence the speaking was expected. 
 I placed my back against a vacant tree, and, thus 
 luxuriously situated, I awaited the coming of events. 
 I had barely arranged myself when I was staggered 
 by a tremendous blow on my shoulder. My first 
 idea was that I had been struck by a falling chim- 
 ney, and then, upon looking around, I saw a quasi 
 acquaintance, an office-seeking Goliath, named Cap- 
 tain Payson, withdrawing a hand, the shape and 
 size of a ham, from my shoulder. 
 
 It was a way Payson had of attracting one's atten- 
 tion. He was a man who would awaken a sleeping 
 child by firing a 200-pound cannon near its ear, or 
 knock a man's brain s out in attempting to brush a 
 fly from his forehead. 
 
132 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 " I want to introduce a friend," said he. I glanced 
 up. By his side stood a gentleman of about forty- 
 five years of age, tall, elegantly formed, with light 
 hair, a complexion evidently once fresh, but now 
 approaching somewhat the color of sole-leather, and 
 seamed with a thousand infinitesimal wrinkles, as 
 if they had been ploughed with the point of a cam- 
 bric needle. His eyes were a mild gray, his features, 
 regular and mobile, and his bearing erect and digni- 
 fied. 
 
 ' ' Gentlemen, know each other, Mr. Blank, Colonel 
 Charles Edward Lester," and Payson drew out this 
 name till it seemed as long as an average clothes- 
 line. 
 
 " Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold," said the 
 stranger in a sonorous, musical voice, and with an 
 unmoved countenance; " all the titles of good fel- 
 lowship come to you ! What, shall we be merry? 
 Shall we have a drink extempore?" 
 
 Piloted equally by the captain and the colonel, I 
 crossed the street, and threaded a devious route to 
 some secluded retreat, where prohibitory liquor law 
 was supposed to have no jurisdiction. We " smiled" 
 and "smiled again," and then commenced my ac- 
 quaintance with the author of the " Glory and 
 Shame of England," and who proved one of the most 
 remarkable, in many respects, men whom I have 
 ever known. 
 
 We returned to the sidewalk in front of Willard's. 
 Just then, Colonel Mulligan came forward on the 
 balcony and began to speak. 
 
 Lester listened a few moments, and then remarked: 
 
 "By heavens! There's more electricity in that 
 man's oratory than in that of any other man I have 
 ever listened to." 
 
Some People I Have Met. 133 
 
 A little later, I had the pleasure of making these 
 two men acquainted. Mulligan was a warm ad- 
 mirer of Lester's principal work. They fraternized 
 at once ; and one of the most brilliant interchanges 
 of thought I ever listened to followed, but which 
 Came to an abrupt termination, in about five min- 
 utes, by the sudden recollection of the author that it 
 had been as much as ten minutes since he had taken 
 a drink. 
 
 Mulligan would not go ; Lester would. And so 
 they parted — mutually pleased, and mutually disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 Lester was, or is, the finest conversationalist 
 whom I have ever heard, and, if he will pardon the 
 additional compliment, the most incorrigible bummer. 
 For three months, I impoverished myself in paying 
 for his whisky, simply to hear him talk. He was 
 equally firm on two points ; one of these was, to 
 never refuse an invitation to a drink, and the other 
 was never to pay for one. 
 
 The latter reason was founded upon adequate pe- 
 cuniary premises. 
 
 No subject was foreign to his abilities. Once Con- 
 sul at Genoa, and an extensive traveler, he appeared 
 to know all men and all places. He seemed as fa- 
 miliar with authors as ordinary men are with the 
 alphabet. 
 
 It was a custom of mine, on Sunday morning, if 
 the day promised to be fair, to purchase a quart of 
 whisky, hire a carriage, find the colonel, and drive 
 somewhere in the charming vicinity of Kalorama. 
 Some green and shady spot would be selected, the 
 hack turned loose, the bottle conveniently arranged, 
 so as to lie equally within "striking distance" of 
 
134 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 both, and then would begin an entertainment which 
 I shall never forget. 
 
 My part was little more than to listen, to some- 
 times suggest a topic, to oftener repress emotions 
 which sprang into active life under his influence. 
 
 His style varied with the subject of his conversa- 
 tion. Now, he was calm, equable, dignified; again, 
 his words rushed forth, a torrent of fiery enthusi- 
 asm; or he spoke in a low voice, broken with sobs, 
 while his face was bathed with tears. 
 
 Where or how he lived in Washington, I never 
 knew or inquired. He was to be found at certain 
 hours about Williard's, awaiting an invitation to 
 drink. He spoke often of his family with pride, 
 and never of his wife save with a profound respect. 
 He rarely mentioned the latter unless it was to 
 couple her with some apropos poetical quotation, in 
 which the tender utterances of Milton's Adam to 
 Eve always bore a prominent part. 
 
 One day I suddenly left Washington. The last I 
 saw of my friend, the author, the diplomat, the poet, 
 philosopher, statesman, gentleman, and (then) bum- 
 mer, he was sitting in the reading-room at Willard's, 
 with an expression on his face of intellectual grand- 
 eur, of dignity, of benevolence, and of — unquench- 
 able thirst. 
 
SOME REMEMBERED FACES. 
 
 OOKING backward, through an experience 
 SH L53 E °^ a <l uar t er °f a century or more, I discover 
 *^i> here and there faces which, framed in di- 
 verse events, stand out with the distinctness 
 of fresh and well-executed pictures. 
 
 I suppose that my experience, in this respect, 
 is not singular; and that others, as well as my- 
 self, can, with a retrospective glance, discover these 
 marked faces, which, in some instances, are 
 wholly dissociated from time or events. 
 
 One sees them as he might a portrait suspended 
 in air, or in a vacuum, and entirely bereft of sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 At other times, these faces are inseparably inter- 
 woven or framed with incidents. Now, it is the 
 smoke of a battle; again, it appears in the green of 
 a prairie; in the white surroundings of a tent; in an 
 illuminated border of angry countenances and flash- 
 ing eyes. Sometimes, as I have said, the face alone 
 remains; and I know neither, when, where, nor un- 
 der what circumstances I saw it. 
 
 Let me try to present copies of two or three of 
 these portraits. I can not answer for the fidelity of 
 these presentations. To embody and reproduce what 
 is but an attenuated memory is a work which is per- 
 plexing, unsubstantial, and, in its results, unsatis- 
 factory. 
 
136 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Once, during the war, I was in the wheel-house of 
 an iron-clad gun-boat, on the Cumberland river, 
 About six hundred yards in front of us was a Con- 
 federate battery. Looking through the small orifice 
 in the cuirassed wheel-house, I could see only a 
 dense white smoke which lay in banks about the 
 square prow of our vessel. At short intervals I could 
 see a broad flash of red flame rive its way through 
 this white surrounding like a vast sheet of lightning 
 shattering some mass of clouds. 
 
 A rumbling and massive roar accompanied these 
 flashes, and the clumsy iron boat shuddered under 
 the recoil of the guns. 
 
 Incessantly from out the mass of vapor that en- 
 veloped us there came fierce hissings which passed 
 and left upon the air a vibration like an echo. At 
 times, this hiss would suddenly terminate, and the 
 depths of the drifting masses, about us, for a brief 
 instant, would become suddenly roseate, as if illu- 
 minated by a flash of red fire. 
 
 My companion, the pilot, seemed little moved by 
 these surroundings. He listened to the signals from 
 below, and labored to hold the boat immovable 
 against the current. He was a tall man, with an 
 ordinary, pleasant face, upon which there rested 
 only an expression of sober earnestness. 
 
 Suddenly there was a savage hiss from out the 
 smoke, then the turret in which we stood seemed 
 shattered as by the fall upon it of a thousand tons of 
 rock. There was an explosion that rent my ear 
 with deafening violence, and I was dashed violently 
 backward. At the same moment, a jet of some 
 warm fluid struck me across the face. 
 
 Involuntarily, I turned to my companion, and then 
 
Some Remembered Faces. 137 
 
 I saw framed one of those faces which I have never 
 forgotten. 
 
 His hands still grasped the wheel, and he stood 
 bare-headed and erect. His lips were just parted, as 
 if he was about to speak; his heavy hair seemed 
 dashed away from his brow, and his gray eyes looked 
 straight into mine, with a sad, wondering expres- 
 sion. There was in his glance something infinitely 
 solemn, and yet expectant — a mingling of what 
 seemed surprise and appeal. 
 
 For three or four seconds I looked at this face, 
 over which there was moving something that was 
 like the shadow of rigidity. His lips parted more 
 and more, his jaw began to settle slowly down, and 
 then he sank like a mass of gelatine to the floor. 
 
 A splinter had torn open his breast, and he was 
 dead before his hands were unclasped from the 
 wheel. 
 
 The hair thrown back, the pleading and wonder- 
 ing interrogation of his glance, the awful shadow of 
 fixedness that stole across his face, and the slow 
 dropping of his jaw, form one of the portraits which 
 I see and contemplate even yet with a chill of hor- 
 ror, as I review these memorable faces of the past. 
 
 Shortly after the battle of Shiloh, in wandering 
 from point to point within the federal lines, I found 
 myself belated, at dark, at the little town of Monte- 
 rey, a few miles west of Corinth. In questioning a 
 surgeon as to the location of a point I wished to find, 
 there resulted a quasi-acquaintance, which ended in 
 my being cordially invited to spend the night at his 
 quarters. We remained in a sort of field-dispensary 
 until long after taps, and then I was shown a place 
 to sleep, in a tent a short distance away. 
 
138 Army and Other Sketches. 1 
 
 The night was calm, and the regiments were bur- 
 ied in profound repose. Not a sound broke the still- 
 ness as I wrapped myself in a blanket and composed 
 myself to slumber. I was lingering in that delight- 
 ful region which divides the domain of wakefulness 
 from that of sleep, when there came through the 
 still air a voice which said: " Oh, Lord !" It was 
 apparently a thin, childish tone, weakened as if by 
 suffering, and yet penetrating in its clearness. 
 
 At intervals of ten minutes, perhaps, the same 
 voice rang out the same " Oh, Lord ! " upon the still- 
 ness. Sleep seemed to follow it away through the 
 darkness. Hour after hour passed, and still I lay 
 awake, listening to this monotonous cry. It did not 
 seem one of terror. It appeared rather one inspired 
 by loneliness, by suffering, and by the absence of 
 hope. It was suggestive of the tired moan of a 
 weary child, which wishes for, yet suffers, and is 
 too exhausted to rest. 
 
 There was a tone in it as if pleading for relief, and 
 which, so thin, so weak, so boyish, it suggested only 
 the relief to be found on the bosom of a mother. 
 And thus, pleading, calling, with a hint of queru- 
 lousness, the plaint was heard until the darkness 
 began to dissolve into the misty gray of dawn. 
 
 Fainter came the voice as the hours moved on, 
 until, at daybreak, it had passed into an incoherent 
 utterance, and then ceased altogether. 
 
 Soon after, I arose, passed out, and found myself 
 just opposite a large hospital tent, which lay in the 
 direction of the voice which had timed so sadly the 
 weary hours of the night. 
 
 Crossing over, I pushed aside the flap, and entered. 
 Rows of cots were upon either side, some occupied 
 
Some 'Remembered Faces. 139 
 
 and some empty. In response to my inquiry, a sol- 
 dier directed me to a cot on the further side. 
 
 "He's gone," said my sententious informant. 
 
 And here, upon this cot, I found another of those 
 faces which I see yet with the same distinctness 
 that I saw it then. 
 
 A slender form was outlined from beneath the 
 blanket. The shoulders and head were only visible. 
 It was not a poetical face. The hair was unkempt, 
 the forehead low, and the contour of the head not 
 striking. But the face was small, wasted, and boy- 
 ish. The lids were half unclosed, and revealed blue 
 eyes that were fixed and staring. The cheeks were 
 small and childish, the mouth delicate, while over 
 the forehead, cheeks, and chin had fastened itself 
 that awful rigidity which so completely effaces the 
 elastic expressions of life. 
 
 The characteristic of the face that most interested 
 me, was its youthfulness. It was so little, so weak. 
 It seemed to belong to one who should have been 
 pillowed in a cradle, rather than to have been 
 sent out into the great world to grapple alone with 
 death. 
 
 Whose child it was that thus met death face to face, 
 and, unassisted, and unsupported, carried on the ter- 
 rible struggle, and was vanquished, I never knew. I 
 have only a knowledge of a pale, thin young face, 
 that lay with its blue eyes staring unmeaningly into 
 vacancy. 
 
 Other faces present themselves to this retrospect. 
 There is an ineffably sad face, womanly, pale, with 
 dark eyes that look without seeing, masses of heavy 
 black hair carefully arranged, compressed lips, with 
 a settled expression of despair, which I have seen, 
 but when and where I know not. It is not the face 
 
140 Army and Other Sketches* 
 
 of a picture, but of a woman whom I have some- 
 where met, whose sorrow has always commanded 
 my profound- sympathy, and whose rare, sad beauty 
 yet preserves for itself a warm admiration. 
 
 There are other faces, fixed and intensified as they 
 are when in the presence of mortal peril. Here is 
 one of a blue-eyed baby, and there another of a lout- 
 ish boy, or some laughing girl, or the corrugated 
 front of some paralytic octogenarian. 
 
 He who recalls these portraits, who studies their 
 traits, will be surprised to find how much more last- 
 ing are sorrowful than sunny faces. He will find 
 that there are a dozen faces in his mental gallery 
 that scowl, are suffering, are flushed with painful 
 emotions, are staring in death, that sadden, where 
 there is one that smiles, and to recall which, and 
 examine, is a task of pleasure. 
 

 A REMINISCENCE OF THE WAR. 
 
 HE incident I am about to relate is one 
 which, during the sublime convulsions of a 
 great war, would escape notice. It is a lit- 
 tle occurrence; and yet it contains volumes of 
 meaning with reference to one of the most gal- 
 lant men who, during the late war, drew his 
 sword in the cause of the government. 
 It was in the month of April, 1863, that I was con- 
 nected with a metropolitan newspaper as its west- 
 ern correspondent. At the precise time of which I 
 am about to write, Grant had run the Vicksburg 
 batteries, and had crossed a portion of his army just 
 below Grand Gulf. The advance, under Osterhaus, 
 had repulsed the confederates in front of Port Gib- 
 son, and had reached Black river on its northward 
 march. Here Osterhaus had been joined by Gen- 
 eral Grant; and a halt of two or three days was de- 
 termined upon, in order to allow a concentration of 
 the Federal forces, who reached all the way from 
 Richmond, nearly opposite Vicksburg, around by 
 Perkins' plantation, Grand Gulf, Bruinsburg and 
 Porfc Gibson, to Grant's headquarters at Black river. 
 When these forces were concentrated, it was in- 
 tended to resume the march around Vicksburg via 
 Jackson, the capital of Mississippi. 
 
142 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 I accompanied the advance, and reached Black 
 river at the same time as did the commander-in- 
 chief. Upon arrival there, I found myself wofully 
 in need of a change of clothing. My baggage was 
 all upon the boat at the Federal landing opposite 
 Yicksburg. When the expedition had started to 
 move below Yicksburg, there was a universal disbe- 
 lief in its success. I shared this opinion ; and, antici- 
 pating a defeat, and possibly the necessity of a hasty 
 retreat, I had moved in light marching order ; that 
 is, I limited myself to the single suit of clothes which 
 I wore, and the necessary paraphernalia of a Bo- 
 hemian. The march to Black river occupied some 
 time ; the route was dirty ; it had rained frequently; 
 and, there being but few tents with the advance, 
 — the baggage being left at the river, — I found my- 
 self looking more like a chimney-sweep than a re- 
 spectable journalist. Having learned that the army 
 would remain certainly as many as three days at 
 its position on Black river, I determined to return 
 to the landing opposite Vicksburg, and rehabilitate 
 myself in a shape conducive, at least, to cleanliness. 
 
 These particulars are unimportant, save as they 
 may serve to recall the Federal movements, likewise 
 as they may indirectly bear upon the position in 
 which I soon after found myself. 
 
 To reach the Vicksburg landing, I had a ride of 
 forty miles to Grand Gulf ; then a trip by steamer 
 to the other side of the Mississippi, at Perkins' plan- 
 tation; and then r a ride of thirty miles more to the 
 landing. I calculated thas the trip would occupy a 
 day and a half each way ; and I should, therefore, 
 be able to return to headquarters on Black river 
 within three days, or before the Federal army re-, 
 commenced its advance. 
 
A Reminiscence of the War. 143 
 
 The weather had been rainy ; after which there 
 followed a close, oppressive heat. I made the forty 
 miles a little after noon of the morning of my de- 
 parture ; caught the tug at Grand Gulf ; and leav- 
 ing the landing at the other side long before day- 
 light the next clay, I reached the Federal boats op- 
 posite Vicksburg about ten o'clock in the morning. 
 I made the necessary changes ; and, mounted upon 
 a fresh horse, which was supplied me by a friendly 
 quartermaster, I commenced my return soon after 
 noon. The roads were in excellent order, my beast 
 a superior animal, and I had no fears as to my 
 ability to regain Perkins' plantation in time to catch 
 the down-boat in the evening. 
 
 As I have said, the weather was oppressively 
 warm. There was not a breath of air stirring, and 
 everything seemed weighed down by the heat, as if 
 it were possessed of enormous gravity. My ride of 
 the day before and of the morning of my return, 
 was, considering the heat, of extraordinary length. 
 I was somewhat fatigued when I started back ; and 
 this feeling soon after was succeeded by one of a 
 serious and most unpleasant nature. I found that, 
 upon the slightest turning of my head from one side 
 to the other, I would lose the power to balance my- 
 self, and could only prevent myself from falling 
 from my horse by instinctively grasping the pom- 
 mel of the saddle. 
 
 I had passed through Richmond when these symp- 
 toms attacked me, and I was too far on my journey 
 to think of returning to the Vicksburg landing. An 
 oppressive premonition seized me, and I feared that, 
 in a little while, I would become totally blind and 
 helpless, 
 
144 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 The route over which I moved was that which 
 had been taken by the Federal forces; but it was en- 
 tirely deserted. The rear of our army had passed; 
 and the few houses which presented themselves at 
 long intervals were as silent as graves. The cotton- 
 gins were heaps of smouldering ruins; and the negro 
 cabins and the plantation houses stood with opened 
 doors and shattered windows. There was nowhere 
 a sign of life, save here and there a broken-down 
 mule, and an alligator sunning itself upon some log 
 in the bayous. The paunches and horned-skulls of 
 beeves, the skins and entrails of swine, broken 
 cracker-boxes, dead camp-fires, innumerable foot- 
 paths, and deep ruts cut by the loaded wagons, 
 marked the route of the passing army. But all life 
 had disappeared with it. There was not even the 
 defiant bark of the usually omnipresent dogs of the 
 negroes. No cattle lowed from the ricks; no horses 
 or mules cropped the springing grass. Everywhere 
 were only desolation, solitude, destruction. Dead 
 mules, bloated enormously, and with legs thrust out 
 rigidly outward, appeared at intervals. Intolerable 
 stenches from decaying animal matter poisoned the 
 air, and loaded each breath with a deadly nausea. 
 There was nothing beautiful, save the clear sun- 
 light, and the long hedges decorated with an infinite 
 variety of gorgeous flowers. 
 
 As may easily be understood, the absence of all 
 life, the constant presence of death, the decay, the 
 ruin and desolation, the sickening odors, all con- 
 sipired to add strength to the illness which possessed 
 me. The death about me constantly suggested 
 death ; and the odors of rottenness the decay which 
 seemed destined to make me its prey. I grew worse 
 each instant. The air seemed to come from a blast 
 
A Reminiscence of the War. 145 
 
 furnace, — a combination of parching heat and nause- 
 ating stench. My tendency to fall from my horse 
 became each moment greater, and my eyes were 
 filled with millions of black, elongated specks, which 
 impeded my vision, and which, increasing constantly 
 in size, promised soon to become an unbroken veil 
 of darkness. I felt that I was rapidly becoming 
 blind; and my mind, fast losing coherence, reasoned 
 scarcely at all, but instead, became the abode of 
 numberless dire apprehensions. I had, however, 
 sense enough to know that my safety, if existing 
 anywhere, lay in advance. I therefore clung ten- 
 aciously to the mane of my horse, and spurred des- 
 perately forward. Racking pains run along my 
 spine, an immense weight seemed to lie upon my 
 brain. 
 
 It was some hours after I left Richmond; and the 
 bayou, whose course I was following, and its levees, 
 seemed interminable. I was fast verging upon a 
 state of complete unconsciousness, when I saw dimly 
 a house, at whose front was a score of horses. A 
 few orderlies in blue moved among them, and some 
 cavalrymen were warming coffee over a fire kindled 
 among the shrubbery. On the long piazza, which 
 ran around the house, was seated a group of Federal 
 officers. My horse, of its own accord, turned in 
 through a gap in the hedge, and, coming up to the 
 portico, stopped. My head swam for an instant, as 
 if whirled by machinery, and then I fell forward 
 insensible. 
 
 My next recollection is, that I was seated on my 
 horse and moving forward. Upon each side of me 
 rode an orderly, by whom I was sustained in my 
 saddle. From behind came the clanking of sabres, 
 as if from an escort. In front of me rode three or 
 
146 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 four officers, one of whom I recognized, by his star, 
 to be a general. I noticed that he was slightly built, 
 with light hair, and a smooth, boyish face. I had 
 an opportunity to observe these particulars, for the 
 reason that, at short intervals, he turned towards me 
 with a compassionate air, as if to satisfy himself of 
 my condition. Once or twice he addressed me; but 
 I was so dizzy, confused and pained that I evidently 
 could not answer him satisfactorily. 
 
 For what seemed an age, this slow journey con- 
 tinued. After a while we crossed the bayou to our 
 left, and, after a long time spent in floundering 
 through some low grounds across which the road 
 led, we came into a clearing, and just before us ran 
 the broad, sluggish Mississippi. I had a dim con- 
 sciousness, from the charred ruins of what had once 
 been a house, and from other features, that we were 
 at Perkins' plantation. 
 
 Some blankets were spread under a tree, and I was 
 assisted from my horse and laid upon them. The 
 officer with the star on his shoulder seated himself 
 in a camp chair close by me, and found time, when 
 not giving directions about encamping, to inquire as 
 to my condition, my name and destination. The 
 first of these required no answer. As to the others, 
 I could tell nothing, except to give utterance to 
 incoherent utterings. My thoughts possessed some 
 little clearness, but my tongue refused to interpret 
 them. 
 
 Soon after, a small, white tent was raised near me. 
 I was offered some coffee; but the mere oder nause- 
 ated me, and it was taken away; and then I was 
 supported into the tent. In one end was a cot, upon 
 which were blankets, and clean, white sheets. I was 
 assisted to undress, and placed in the bed; and, in a 
 
A Reminiscence of the War, 147 
 
 little while, between slumber and illness, I sank into 
 unconsciousness. 
 
 The quiet, the rest, with perhaps the fact that my 
 attack had culminated and spent its force, restored 
 me. I awoke at dawn without a particle of the feel- 
 ing which possessed me the day before. It required 
 some time to recall my wandering thoughts so as to 
 take in the seemingly interminable events of the pre- 
 vious day, and to explain the unwonted comforts of 
 my position and surroundings. Slowly I gathered 
 up the raveled, broken, knotted threads of remem- 
 brance; and then, hastily dressings I went into the 
 open air. 
 
 There was just sufficient light to render objects 
 indistinctly visible. All over the clearing were camp- 
 fires, some of which yet flickered feebly, while others 
 were smouldering beds of white ashes. All around 
 these fires lay soldiers in their blankets, and near 
 them were long lines of stacked muskets. Close by 
 the tent was a score or more of horses, some lying 
 down, and some standing with drooping heads, as 
 if asleep. Near them lay saddles and blankets, and 
 among them, here and there, were sabres whose 
 steel scabbards reflected a gleam from some adja- 
 cent camp-fire. Directly in front of the tent, and 
 beneath a group of trees, slumbered four or five 
 men, whose uniforms, revealed from beneath their 
 blankets, showed them to be officers. With his 
 head pillowed upon his saddle, I recognized the ten- 
 der, compassionate, boyish face of my conductor of 
 the day before. His countenance lay upturned, and, 
 while its predominant expression was that of se- 
 renity, there yet seemed to rest upon it a shadow, as 
 if of a coming fate, 
 
148 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 I have but little more to relate. A half an hour 
 after, a bugle near the tent sounded revelle, and the 
 sleeping hosts awoke to life and activity. Soon af- 
 ter, and not till then, did I know to whom I was in- 
 debted for what I must always believe to be a care 
 which preserved my life, nor did he know who was the 
 suffering civilian whom he had found alone, friend- 
 less, and almost dying. The former was General T. 
 E. G. Ransom. He had cared for me without know- 
 ing anything save that I was suffering and needed 
 assistance. He had delayed his march to accommo- 
 date my weakness; and he had given up his own 
 bed, and slept on the ground, without shelter, that 
 he might administer to the comfort of an unknown 
 sufferer. 
 
 I never met that boyish face and slight form 
 again in life. Once after, I joined a cortege which 
 moved to a cemetery of the Garden City; and the 
 wailing dirges of the band were but a faint reflex of 
 the sorrow that filled my soul at the thought that 
 the most gallant, tender, chivalrous soul of the age 
 had taken forever its leave of earth. 
 
A DESPARADO WHO WOULD NOT 
 STAY KILLED. 
 
 N" the early part of 1862, there was a jolly and 
 eager crowd gathered in room 45, St. Char- 
 les Hotel, Cairo, Illinois. All, or nearly all, 
 of them were Bohemians, who represented the 
 majority of the newspapers of prominence in the 
 North. There were the sedate and puritanical- 
 looking Richardson, of the New York Tribune; the 
 foppish exquisite, Carroll, of the Louisville Journal; 
 the grave-visaged Matteson, of the Chicago Post; the 
 precise and somewhat elegant Whitlaw Reid, of the 
 Cincinnati Gazette; the acidulated and undersized 
 " Mack," of the Cincinnati Commercial; the bluff 
 and rotund Bodman, of the Chicago Tribune; the 
 saintly-looking Nathan Shepherd, of the New York 
 World; the jaundiced, but gentlemanly Coffin, of 
 the Boston Journal; the tall and slender Lovie, of 
 Frank Leslie; Meissner, of the Chicago Times; 
 " Galway," of the New York Times; Simplot, of 
 Harper's; and some others whose names do not oc- 
 cur to me. 
 
 Whenever a newspaper man registered at the St. 
 Charles, he was assigned to 45, regardless of the 
 number already there. As there was but two beds 
 in the room ; and as the beds, by the utmost stretch, 
 would never accommodate more than three respect- 
 ively ; and as there were always from ten to twenty 
 
150 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 in the room, — it ever happened that there was a 
 margin of Bohemians who slept on the tables, or 
 sought the comforts of such slumber as could be 
 wooed from a bed of flooring and a pillow construct- 
 ed of a carpet-bag, or the hollow of a saddle. But 
 it was all right. He who slept on the floor the last 
 night would retire early the next night, taking the 
 middle of whichever bed was vacant ; for among the 
 rules of the fraternity was one that all things except 
 tooth-brushes were in common, and he who first 
 gained possession of anything held it, for the time, 
 by an inalienable right. 
 
 I recall these things, not because they are precisely 
 pertinent to what I am about to relate, but because 
 one who dates a ay occurrence from Room 45 can not 
 resist going over the whole ground. All about the 
 room has a more or less intimate relation with the 
 history of the rebellion, and is full of personal inter- 
 est, whether one recalls the immaculate Reid, dilat- 
 ing upon his intimacy with the family of one who 
 has since risen to the highest judicial honors in the 
 gift of the Republic ; or Richardson, gravely ex- 
 pounding Buckle's History of Civilization ; or 
 Meissner, .going to bed at midday with his boots on ; 
 or Carroll^ arraying himself, at two o' clock in the 
 morning, in faultless linen, and stimulating him- 
 self with a cup of hot tea, in order to write a letter ; 
 or little " Mack," swearing like a seven-foot pirate. 
 
 There was another character there, — a slender, 
 wiry, handsome, fresh-cheeked young man, known 
 as Carson. He was from Chicago, was a scout in 
 the service of Grant, and a correspondent of a news- 
 paper. He was one of the finest-looking and brav- 
 est young fellows that I ever knew. 
 
A Desperado ivho would not stay Killed. 151 
 
 When news was scarce, the Bohemians would 
 sometimes accompany Carson on his scouting expe- 
 ditions. At first he had no trouble about volunteers; 
 but later there grew apace an unwillingness to scout 
 with the young dare-devil, as it was found that 
 scouting, under his lead, meant hard riding, hard 
 knocks, and no account of odds in numbers. Hence, 
 the eagerness to escape the tedium of no war news, 
 finally resulted in recreations at billiards, economical 
 draw-poker, and universal growling. 
 
 One afternoon Carson burst into the room with 
 a haste that promised somet'hing of unusual import- 
 ance. 
 
 "Now, boys," said he, in a cheery voice, " who's 
 in for a little fun?" 
 
 "Fun, h — 11!" growled the little gentleman from 
 Cincinnati, as he rubbed carefully that portion of the 
 human frame which usually comes in contact with 
 the saddle. "I've had enough of your d — d fun to 
 last me till after Lent!" 
 
 Carson proceeded to buckle on his sabre, to 
 sling a carbine over his shoulder, and to examine the 
 caps of his navy revolver. "Come, boys, it's only 
 a little scout over into Missouri, — a short ride, not 
 much danger, and plenty of fun. Come, now, 
 who'll go?" 
 
 " Not any for me!" 
 
 " I've had a piece of that!" 
 
 " I'll see you about it in the fall!" 
 
 " Go to thunder with your plenty of fun!" 
 
 " One charge of buckshot in my blanket now!" 
 
 Such were the remarks that greeted Carson's invi- 
 tation, with a score of others that I have forgotten. 
 The only one who said nothing was myself. I had 
 but lately reached Cairo, and having never been out 
 
152 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 with him, I had a strong desire to go. Accordingly, 
 I announced my intention. It was greeted with a 
 roar of laughter and ironical sympathy and con- 
 gratulation. 
 
 "Bully youth!" 
 
 " Good-bye, old fellow! Where do you want your 
 remains sent?" 
 
 "Don't get ahead of Carson in a charge, will 
 you?" 
 
 And so on. Nevertheless, I persisted in my deter- 
 mination, and, an hour later, we had been ferried 
 over to Bird's Point, had passed through Dick 
 Oglesby's command, and were hurrying on our way, 
 at a gallop, through the mud and water of an ex- 
 ecrable road that led through the timber across 
 the Mississippi " bottom." Besides Carson and my- 
 self, there were two soldiers. All of us were well 
 mounted, and, save myself, all were armed with 
 sabre, revolver, and carbine. The mud soon grew 
 so deep that a gallop became impossible. We there- 
 fore fell into a walk, and it was now, for the first 
 time, that I was put in possession of the object of 
 the expedition. I will give the substance of what 
 Carson told me, using my own, instead of his vigor- 
 ous language. 
 
 The vast, swampy region opposite Cairo, in Mis- 
 souri, was occupied by Jeff Thompson. He was no- 
 where when sought for, and everywhere when not 
 wanted. He committed no great amount of dam- 
 age, save that he kept Cairo, the base of our future 
 operations down the Mississippi and up the Cumber- 
 land and Tennessee rivers, infested with spies, who 
 accurately informed the rebel commanders at Colum- 
 bus, and in eastern Kentucky, of Grant's probable 
 intentions. 
 
A Desperado ivho would not stay Killed. 153 
 
 On that morning a noted bushwhacker, whose 
 person and habits were well known in Cairo, had 
 been seen near Grant's headquarters. A search had 
 been made for him, but he had suddenly disappeared. 
 Some information of his haunts had been communi- 
 cated to Grant, and Carson had been started across 
 the river, with the hope that he might be intercepted 
 at a certain point, a settlement some twelve miles 
 from Bird's Point. 
 
 As I was further informed, this man was a noted 
 desperado, and was the hero of a hundred personal 
 fights, in which he was generally the victor. He 
 had killed a half-dozen men outright, and had 
 maimed and mortally injured many others, until 
 he had become the terror of the region which he in- 
 habited. Several attempts had been made to kill 
 him, but, in nearly every case, with a disatrous re- 
 sult to those attempting it. He seemed to bear a 
 charmed life. He had been " cut to pieces" in a 
 half-dozen fights, and yet, in a week or two, he was 
 around again, as well, as quarrelsome, and as dang- 
 erous as ever. 
 
 It was related that a man whom he had a quarrel 
 with, had waylaid him one night, and had discharg- 
 ed a heavy load of buckshot into him. The assassin 
 fled as he saw his opponent fall heavily from his 
 horse. His horror may be imagined when, the next 
 time he ventured into town and into the village gro- 
 cery, he found his enemy at the bar, and taking a 
 drink with the gusto of a man uninjured by buck- 
 shot or bullets. At another time, he was found 
 dead drunk upon an immense hollow log, a short 
 distance into the country. The opportunity was too 
 good to be lost, and so a fire was kindled in the log, 
 just beneath him, and he was left fco his fate. He 
 
154 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 lay there and broiled until, as was asserted, one. 
 whole side of him "was burnt to a cinder;" and 
 yet, a few weeks afterwards, he was around, appa- 
 rently as hearty as ever. 
 
 These and a dozen similar incidents were related 
 by Carson, and the effect was very far from mak- 
 ing me pleased with the prospect. Nevertheless, it 
 was too late to retreat, and I kept on hoping the 
 best, yet fearing the worst. 
 
 The settlement which we were approaching, was 
 the one in which resided this desperado. It was 
 supposed that he had gone home to spend the night, 
 and that we should find him there at any time be- 
 fore daylight the next morning, when he would 
 probably leave for the headquarters of Thompson. 
 
 By Carson's orders, we made a wide detour, and 
 thereby avoided the little town where our prey was 
 waiting. Carson was thoroughly acquainted with 
 the country ; and so well did he conduct us that, 
 without meeting a human being, or passing a house, 
 we reached, about nine o'clock, a road that led into 
 the town, and which road was exactly opposite the 
 one by which we had left Bird's Point. In other 
 words, the town was between us and Cairo, and we 
 were upon the road that led from the town to the 
 point supposed to be occupied by Jeff. Thompson. 
 Our man would approach along this road, and hence 
 we were sure of meeting him, if the supposition 
 were correct that he would spend the night with his 
 family. 
 
 We moved up to within a mile of the settlement, 
 and then halted at a deserted log-house. The horses 
 were hitched behind the building, without having 
 their bridles or saddles taken off; and every disposi- 
 tion was made for instant movement. We took 
 

 A Desperado who would not stay Killed. 155 
 
 turns in watching the road, while the ones not on 
 duty wrapped themselves in blankets and slept. 
 
 Daylight came without there having occurred any 
 thing of note. We waited until sunrise, and then 
 mounted and moved toward the town. Carson 
 swore savagely under the impression that our man 
 had taken some other route. 
 
 The road led up a gentle ascent to a broad table- 
 land, upon which the little settlement was located. 
 We proceeded at a walk until we reached the brow 
 of the ascent, and the place became visible. 
 
 It was a collection of a dozen or so rough houses, 
 built around a square. Three horses were hitched 
 in front of a small building. The moment Carson 
 caught sight of the animals, he exclaimed: 
 
 " There's his horse, by G — !" 
 
 At the same instant, he drove his spurs into his 
 beast, and shot forward like an arrow. Just then, 
 three men issued from the building, and, attracted 
 by the clatter of hoofs, they turned towards us, and 
 then, with incredible quickness, they threw the reins 
 over their horses' necks, and leaped into the saddles. 
 One of them swerved to the left, another to the right, 
 and the third went like the wind on the road to 
 Cairo. 
 
 Carson seemed to only see this man, and followed 
 directly after him. I followed Carson. 
 
 I happened to be well-mounted, and had no diffi- 
 culty in keeping within sight of the chase. The ani- 
 mal ridden by the man whom we were pursuing was 
 a splendid beast; but its muddy appearance and 
 rough coat indicated a long journey. However, 
 both Carson and myself gained on the rider, slowly, 
 but perceptibly. 
 
156 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 The road ran across a table-land, and then de- 
 scended gently for a long distance, till it reached the 
 muddy tk bottom." 
 
 We had not descended more than half the road to 
 the bottom, when Carson had gained upon the pur- 
 sued until he was within thirty paces. At this in- 
 stant he called in a resolute voice: 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 For a reply, the man wheeled in his saddle, and 
 fired a shot from a revolver. I heard the whiz of 
 of the bullet as it went over my head. 
 
 The next moment, I saw a puff of smoke from 
 Carson's pistol. There was a sharp report, and, 
 at the same instant, I saw the butternut coat of 
 the pursued give a sudden flap in the centre of 
 his back, accompanied by the rise of a little cloud of 
 dust. 
 
 But the bushwacker rode on. Carson was closing 
 with him rapidly, and I was some ten or fifteen 
 paces in the rear of the latter. 
 
 I saw Carson return his revolver to his belt, and 
 draw his sabre. His horse's head now lapped the 
 flanks of the other. He brought his sabre to a 
 charge. 
 
 " Halt ! will you?" he thundered. 
 
 The man rode on. In an instant Carson drove his 
 sabre forward. It entered somewhere near the 
 right shoulder-blade, and passed completely through 
 the body. The next moment, the man reeled wildly, 
 and then, with a vain effort to grasp the mane of 
 his horse, he tumbled heavily to the ground. 
 
 A minute later, we had checked our horses, and 
 had reined up beside the fallen man. He lay on his 
 face ; blood reddened his lips ; his eyes rolled fear- 
 
A Desperado who ivould not stay Killed. 157 
 
 fully ; and he gasped as if throttled by a strong 
 hand. 
 
 "It's all up with him this time," said Carson, as 
 he dismounted. " However, I'll make sure, and put 
 him out of his misery." He pulled out his revolver, 
 and, holding it a couple of inches away from, and 
 directly over, the prostrate man's heart, he fired. 
 There was a quick convulsion of the frame, and the 
 bearded, fierce-looking spy, with his long, unkempt 
 hair, lay motionless. 
 
 Carson searched the body, and found a paper con- 
 cealed in the lining of his slouch-hat. Upon it was 
 some highly important information concerning our 
 forces, and contemplated movements. 
 
 Leaving the still rebel where he had fallen, we 
 continued our route to Cairo, knowing that the body 
 would be attended to by friends who would follow 
 to learn the result of the pursuit. 
 
 About five weeks later, I was at the landing when 
 the ferry-boat came over from Bird's Point. Some 
 butternut suits attracted my attention, and, upon 
 looking closer, I saw a squad of a half-dozen bush- 
 whackers, who were marched ashore, under guard 
 of some Federal soldiers. I looked curiously at 
 them as they passed. One of them was a burly, un- 
 couth-looking ruffian. His face was deadly pale, 
 and his eyes bloodshot ; but, despite this, I recog- 
 nized in an instant, in the peculiar countenance, the 
 bushy beard, and long hair, the desperado whom 
 Carson had sabred, and twice shot through the 
 body. He appeared but little the worse for his treat- 
 ment ; and, so far as I know, he is yet alive, and as 
 impervious as ever to steel, fire or revolver. 
 
158 
 
 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 I have only to add that this account is substan- 
 tially a true one, as may be proved by scores who 
 were in Cairo in 1862. 
 
AMONG THE GUERRILLAS. 
 
 HERE were a good many very respectable 
 men who took a deep interest in the late 
 
 \§p6 J & war. Among them were some — in fact, no 
 
 eP small number — who demonstrated their inter- 
 est not by shouldering a musket, or buckling 
 on a sabre, but by gathering up such articles of 
 value as were scattered in the crash of things, and 
 the universal spilling, overflowing, and confusion 
 that prevailed wherever there were any operations. 
 
 Among these there was a class who may be termed 
 gleaners. They followed in the track of the oppos- 
 ing forces, and carefully raked up any little thing 
 which might prove to be of value. Those gentle- 
 men who charged themselves with the pleasing task 
 of gathering up abandoned plantations, were among 
 those gleaners. Some of them got rich by it. A 
 good many of them did not. 
 
 Messrs. John Marsh, and George McLeland re- 
 solved some time during the closing years of the 
 war, to go into the gleaning business. Both were 
 and are Illinoisans. The former is fat and a little 
 lame. The other is immensely thin and a good deal 
 deaf. Both were rich, but both wanted more. 
 Thereupon each of them had their respective checks 
 cashed for a few thousand dollars. Putting a clean 
 shirt apiece in their carpet-sacks, they bade adieu 
 
160 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 to their weeping families and embarked on a 
 steamer at Rock Island, and started southward. 
 
 Of the tremendous perils which these two glean- 
 ers experienced in getting to Helena, it would be 
 harrowing to speak in detail. The number of times 
 they weren't shot at by prowling bushwhackers, se- 
 creted behind wood-piles, on the levees, was beyond 
 computation. Probably several hundred would be a 
 very low estimate. 
 
 Both laid low, and were prepared for vigorous 
 dodging in case of an attack. McLeland usually 
 occupied a horizontal position, with his head point- 
 ing to one shore, and his feet to the other, under the 
 belief that he thus presented the smallest possible 
 mark for a rebel rifleman. Mr. John Marsh, who 
 was about as thick when lying as when standing, 
 was unpleasantly situated. He proposed to his com- 
 panions that he (Marsh) ought to have two-thirds of 
 the profits, as he, owing to his size, ran two-thirds of 
 the danger. 
 
 To which McLeland, being stingy as well as thin, 
 declined to accede. And thereupon arose a slight 
 coolness between the whilom friends. 
 
 Beautiful Helena was at length reached, and soon 
 after, a corpulent traveler, with a carpet-sack and a 
 slight limp, and an enormously tall man with a car- 
 pet-sack and a sole-leather countenance, might have 
 been seen ascending the romantic levee in search of 
 quarters. 
 
 A week later, the same two individuals were in- 
 stalled as lessees of a thriving, productive, and ad- 
 mirably situated plantation. 
 
 And now began the business. Contrabands by the 
 score were obtained from the depot, in the propor- 
 tion of three obese negresses, eleven children, clad 
 
Among the Guerillas. 161 
 
 at the rate of one shirt to the dozen, five dogs, and 
 one lame mule, to each able-bodied negro. Thus, 
 the getting together say twenty able-bodied Africans 
 involved the assembling of almost a thousand other 
 things, including old negroes and pickaninies, 
 feather-beds and dodger kettles, and other traps 
 and paraphernalia without limit, and sufficient to 
 start a good-sized city. 
 
 Messrs. Marsh and McLeland being philanthropic, 
 were kindly disposed to all these arrivals. They 
 opened primary schools, in which the young nig- 
 gers were taught not to chew tobacco, and en- 
 couraged to stand on their heads, or to execute a 
 break-down. 
 
 All the old aunties of the settlement came in for 
 much good instruction from these kindly old men. 
 They were put under a gentle course of instruction, 
 whose main feature was their duty to get back to 
 Helena by the first conveyance, in order not to pro- 
 duce a scarcity in the provender of bacon and meal 
 laid in by Messrs. Marsh and McLeland. With the 
 delightful tractability of the docile African, the 
 good old aunties heard and concluded to — stay, 
 which they did. 
 
 And thus things went on under the new rule. The 
 crop was put in. Save an occasional accident, in 
 which the bulky Marsh sat down on a young darkey, 
 to the great discomfort of the latter, or the lengthy 
 McLeland broke his head in trying to get into a 
 negro shanty, the world went well with them. The 
 cotton came in green beauty, and already had the 
 gleaners figured up the number of bales, the profits 
 thereon, and the pecuniary results, which were divi- 
 ded m imagination. 
 
162 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 But a crisis was approaching these two good men 
 with the swift noiselessness of a prowling tiger. 
 
 Their plantations were outside the lines. With 
 infinite difficulty had each of them broken himself 
 to riding a mule. McLeland had the best luck in 
 the operation. His length of legs enabled him to 
 stand over a mule as the Colossus of Khodes bestrode 
 the passing ships. When he wished to ride he 
 widened his lower extremities and the mule was 
 backed under by a nigger ; then he lowered himself 
 a trifle, drew up his knees to his chin, and was 
 mounted. When the mule was refractory and be- 
 gan to plunge, then the rider simply lowered his 
 feet till they touched the ground. And then the 
 mule walked off. 
 
 Mr. John Marsh had more difficulty. No small 
 mule could carry him, and no large mule would 
 carry him. Thereupon he was reduced to an ancient 
 animal which was too stiff to rear, and too old to 
 kick. Him he mounted, after many attempts. In 
 time, by holding tight to the mane, he could retain 
 his position. Experience made him bold, and he 
 finally became a most daring rider. If the mule did 
 not lower his head and stop suddenly, he would ride 
 from Helena to the plantation without once falling 
 off. 
 
 One gentle afternoon the two companions mount- 
 ed their prancing steeds and started for the planta- 
 tion. They passed the pickets at a tremendous rate., 
 and entered the open country. 
 
 Each had in his belt some thousands of dollars in 
 greenbacks. 
 
 They were armed to the teeth. McLeland had a 
 formidable jack-knife, while about the waist of 
 Marsh was buckled a revolver, three inches in length, 
 
Among the Guerillas. 163 
 
 and which had been loaded only some two years pre- 
 vious. Thus armed, what cared they for the fact 
 that a force of guerrillas had been seen, the day be- 
 fore, but a few miles away? Marsh wouldn't have 
 given a cent over a thousand dollars to have been 
 safe in his Illinois home. McLeland wouldn't have 
 raised the amount over 100 per cent, to have been in 
 the same place. 
 
 And thus darkly musing, they rode valorously on, 
 keeping a vigilant out-look over their shoulders. 
 
 And now the crisis was upon them. 
 
 It took the shape of a squad of butternuts who 
 suddenly reined up before them and menaced them 
 with huge horse-pistols and colossal shot-guns. 
 
 McLeland saw them, lowered his feet to the 
 ground, backed from off his mule, and prepared for 
 instantaneous fight. Marsh tried to get off his mule 
 in order to flee into Hepsidam, or anywhere else, 
 but there being no nigger handy, he was unable to 
 dismount without assistance. A butternut planted 
 himself before McLeland, and cut off his retreat. 
 
 They were penned ! 
 
 " Hand over !" came in stern accents from the ruf- 
 fianly leader. 
 
 After much searching in various pockets, Marsh 
 found a plug of tobacco, which he sorrowfully passed 
 to the brigand. Then he sought long and earnestly, 
 and fished out a pocket-comb. " Take it," said he, 
 in a sad tone, " 'tis all I have. I am now a broken, 
 ruined old man !" 
 
 'You be d — d !" roared the ruffian. "Come, out 
 with yer stamps !" 
 
 Again did the sorrowing Marsh investigate his 
 clothes. Infinite search produced a shirt-button, a 
 dirty collar, and a hymn-book. "There, unfeeling 
 
164 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 wretch, is me all ! Take them, and let me go away 
 and die !" 
 
 " Look here, old hoss, if you don't shell out some 
 greenbacks, I'll " 
 
 Just then there was heard the clank of sabres and 
 the clatter of horses' feet. 
 
 "Yanks, by G — ! Skedaddle, boys;" and so say- 
 ing the butternuts drove the spurs into their horses, 
 and, in a twinkling, had disappeared in the timber. 
 
 "What's the matter?" inquired McLeland, whose 
 deaf ears had not taken in a word of the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 Robbers," was the reply roared into his organ of 
 hearing. 
 
 "Robbers! Oh Lord! Robbers!" and just then he 
 caught sight of an approaching dust, in which could 
 be seen the outlines of horses and riders. " Rob- 
 bers," he roared; "there they come again! Oh 
 dear !" He looked wildly about for a refuge. A 
 little way off he saw a shanty about which were 
 grouped some Africans. Hope awoke in his breast. 
 Fiercely he tugged at his clothing. He tore open 
 his vest, he unbuckled his money belt, he flew to the 
 negroes, and throwing them the belt, he said: 
 
 "Men and brethren, keep this for me till the rob- 
 bers pass." They seized upon it and said, "Thanks, 
 masser." 
 
 And then he strode back, and awaited with calm 
 resignation the approach of the robbers. They came 
 up. 
 
 They were a company of Federal scouts in search 
 of guerrillas. Their leader was the friend of Mr. 
 Marsh and Mr. McLeland. They were rejoiced to 
 see him. They told him their heart-rending adven- 
 ture. 
 
Among the Guerrillas. 165 
 
 And then the Federals pushed on the trail of the 
 guerrillas. And then Mr. McLeland went and 
 claimed his money belt from the faithful Africans. 
 
 The faithful Africans were not where he left 
 them. 
 
 Nor at any other place which he has been able to 
 discover from that day to the present time. 
 
 A broken-hearted old man, named McLeland, or 
 something like it, now passes a sad existence at the 
 lovely village of Geneseo, in this State. 
 
 He has a mournful experience to relate of cotton 
 worms, of failure in cotton planting, and of the loss 
 of $10,000 which he had in a money-belt. 
 
 Mr. John Marsh has country quarters at Elgin. 
 He is still portly, a little lame, and given to relating 
 the miraculous adventures which* he once passed 
 through in cotton planting below Helena. 
 
 
UNCLE TAMES AND THE BULL. 
 
 n f a-g, tf 
 
 ecX 
 
 ^AVING successfully exhibed all the various 
 suits of clothing in my family party, and 
 finding my finances getting low, in conse- 
 quence of responding to the appeals for pecun- 
 iary aid of the gentlemanly landlord with 
 whom I resided, I concluded to hunt a cheaper 
 locality. When one leaves Magara or Saratoga, 
 after a lengthened sojourn, his most natural destin- 
 ation is a poor-house. 
 
 But it was not in search of a poor-house that I 
 came hitherward. I am not disposed to slander 
 Vermont hospitality with any such remark. 
 
 If a man who has been stopping a few weeks at 
 Magara or Saratoga can not get admittance to a 
 poor-house, the next best thing he can do is to 
 "take" the bankrupt act. A receipted hotel-bill 
 from either of these places will be accepted by any 
 bankrupt-commissioner as final evidence of remedi- 
 less poverty. It ought to procure his discharge with- 
 out further difficulty. 
 
 To get to Vermont from Saratoga, one goes to 
 Whitehall, and thence to Rutland. Between the 
 two places, the Vermont line is crossed. I knew we 
 had crossed it by the coming on the train of a 
 stranger who sat down by me, and commenced an 
 acquaintance by inquiring where I was going, how 
 long I was going to stay, where I came from, what 
 

Uncle James and the Bull, 167 
 
 the price of butter was when I left, and whether I 
 knew Deacon Doggett, who lived out in Illinois. 
 
 From Rutland to Burlington, one passes a few 
 handsome villages and some rocks. There is a great 
 variety of the latter. They are piled up to immense 
 heights. A little timber is scattered over them, and 
 some grass grows here and there among the crevices. 
 Here these crevices are fenced in, and are called 
 pastures. All the cattle that pasture on these crevi- 
 ces are rigged out with brakes, without which they 
 could not get down the hills. 
 
 My present stopping- place is at the foot of the 
 Green Mountains, a few miles east of Burlington. 
 The country is primitive, and there are some rocks 
 here. The inhabitants are distinguished for longev- 
 ity, hospitality, radicalism, asthma, the use of pat- 
 ent medicines, and for being pervaded with an in^ 
 sane idea that this portion of Vermont is the loca- 
 tion of the original Eden. 
 
 A man of note in this vicinity has from 50 to 100 
 cows, 600 acres of land, a span of No. 1 horses, two 
 fancy sheep, and a sugar-orchard. A man who has 
 all these may run for the Assembly if he pleases, or 
 be a deacon in the Church. 
 
 Real estate hereabouts is mostly rocks set up on 
 edge, with grassy crevices for the cows. A Ver- 
 mont cow understands herself. She can climb rocks 
 like a squirrel, and she gets fat and gives twelve 
 quarts of milk from feed that is not visible to any 
 thing less than a microscope of forty diameters. 
 
 Uncle James, with whom I am stopping, has a 
 bull and the phthisic. Yesterday the bull got in the 
 orchard, and Uncle James, accompanied by his 
 phthisic and a big gad, went down to drive the 
 bull out. 
 
168 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Now, what I am about to demonstrate is, that, in 
 a race, it depends a good deal upon who is ahead. 
 
 I sat at the window and timed the little dash. At 
 the send-off, the bull led Uncle James and the gad 
 about two lengths. Up to the first quarter, the gait 
 was moderate. Uncle James steadily gained on the 
 bull, until, at the first quarter, the gad just lapped 
 the bull from head to tail. 
 
 At this precise point, they disappeared behind the 
 rise of ground, the bull just neck and neck with the 
 gad, Uncle James one length behind the bull. 
 
 The second and third quarters of the track were 
 hidden behind the rise of ground. The fourth quar- 
 ter, or home-stretch, was plainly visible from where 
 I sat; and I awaited their appearance with thrilling 
 anxiety. 
 
 In about five minutes, they rounded the turn and 
 emerged on the home-stretch. Uncle James was 
 ahead. The bull was about eighteen inches behind, 
 and gaining. The gad was nowhere visible. 
 
 The gait was terriffic. Uncle James had his head 
 over one shoulder. The bull had his head close to 
 the ground. Uncle James' gait was a mixture of 
 trot, lope, and stumble. The bull was on a clean 
 gallop, with his tail as straight up as a liberty pole. 
 
 It was a beautiful burst of speed. Nothing like it 
 was ever seen. They neared the come-out at a three- 
 minute gait. It was almost a dead heat. As Uncle 
 James went over the wire — a stone wall — the bull's 
 horns were neatly interwoven with his coat-tails. 
 Uncle James won by a bare length, which he meas- 
 ured on the other side of the fence. In comparing 
 the merits of the two, I should state that, while the 
 bull has the most wind, Uncle James has the most 
 bottom. 
 
Uncle James and the Bull. 169 
 
 Summary. — Race around the orchard; single-dash, — best one in 
 two: 
 
 Uncle James, ----- 1 
 
 Bull, 2 
 
 Gad, - Distanced 
 
 First quarter, -------- 3^ minutes 
 
 Second and third quarters, ------ Unknown 
 
 Fourth quarter, 1 min. 28 sec. 
 
 You see we have our little amusements here as 
 well as you do in Chicago. 
 
 The other day a party of us went up on Mansfield 
 mountain. This mountain is a swelling in the Green 
 Mountains, and is a place of fashionable resort from 
 Boston. Almost every young lady whom I saw up 
 in the mountain wore spectacles, and quoted Emer- 
 son when she was about to ask a servant for some 
 more beans. 
 
 To go up Mansfield mountain, you take a vehi- 
 cle as far as you can, and then ride a horse the re- 
 mainder of the way. The vehicular part of the route 
 is pleasant, especially if you have good company. 
 Good company as I understand it, means somebody 
 of the opposite sex. 
 
 The horse part of the journey is not so pleasant. 
 An equestrian riding up the outside of the walls of 
 the court-house in Chicago, would be somewhat like 
 riding a horse up Mansfield mountain — only less so. 
 Of the two, the mountain is the steeper, and the as- 
 cent more dangerous and difficult. 
 
 A man who rides up, and doesn't anathematize 
 himself for being a jackass for undertaking the trip, 
 has no proper appreciation of himself or his sur- 
 roundings. 
 
 After what seems a couple of weeks or so, one gets 
 to the top. Then, if one has an overcoat and a fur 
 collar, the affair becomes pleasant. Seated by a 
 
170 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 good fire, in the cozy hotel at the summit, with a 
 good cigar and a bottle of ale, one can enjoy him- 
 self as well as though he were at home. 
 
 If one admires them, he can go out, stand in the 
 wind, and catch cold and views of the surrounding 
 country. The view one gets is fine, but imperfect 
 owing to the fact that Chicago is not visible. 
 
 There was a good deal of Boston company at the 
 hotel. The ladies wore spectacles and thick shoes, 
 and spent their time, when in-doors, in disputing 
 over woman's mission, and, when out-doors, in chip- 
 ping the rocks for geological specimens. Sometimes 
 they varied these occupations by grim metaphysical 
 flirtations with attendant gentlemen. 
 
 Coming down the mountain is the same as going 
 up, except that you see a bottomless abyss over your 
 horse's head, whereas in going up you saw it over 
 his tail. A fall either way would amount to the 
 same thing in the end. 
 
 People who' live at a distance, and can not go up 
 Mansfield mountain, can experience the same sensa- 
 tion by riding a horse along a narrow gutter on a 
 six-story house. There is no more danger in the 
 effort, and it is less expensive. 
 
 Vermont is a fine state in the way of rocks, cheese 
 factories, pretty girls, and antique old gentlemen of 
 ninety. One house where I visited had four gen- 
 erations living in it. Some other houses have five. 
 As near as I can learn, they don't die in this vicinity. 
 When a man gets to be a hundred or so, they bury 
 him alive. 
 
 The productions of the state are various. Blooded 
 sheep, costing originally $2 per head, are sold often 
 for $2,500. The maple-sugar here is different from 
 what we get in Chicago. So are the milk, and the 
 

 Uncle James and the Bull. 171 
 
 butter, and the cheese. Making cheese is a staple 
 business. There is usually a cheese-factory at every 
 four corners, with a pretty woman or two slopping 
 around in the whey. 
 
 Occasionally one sees some rocks. Upon these 
 rocks there are some more rocks, and some others 
 upon them, Upon the whole of them, there are, 
 usually, some rocks. Sometimes one finds upon the 
 top of all this pile some more rocks. 
 
 They have a breed of animals here known as 
 kaows. The kaow has horns and a tail, and gives 
 milk without water in it. The kaow is a very useful 
 animal. 
 
 Almost all the old people hereabouts have a sec- 
 ond growth of hair and a third set of teeth. They 
 are experimenting upon two or three specimens, to 
 see how long they will live. Two of them are yet 
 hale and active, but they are so old that every body 
 has forgotten how old they are. One of them lost a 
 beloved grandchild of 101, who went West on a 
 pleasure trip, and got snapped up by a western fever. 
 
 There are a good many other things that I would 
 like to describe. None of the girls chew gum. They 
 give a man more at a meal here than one gets in a 
 week at a first-class hotel any where else. A square 
 meal here includes warm biscuits, cold bread, pork 
 and beans, butter, cheese, four kinds of sauce, three 
 kinds of cake, "punkin"pie, apple pie, "punkin" 
 pie, grape pie, "punkin" pie, and "punkin" pie. 
 Their " punkin " pie beats the world. Besides these 
 articles, there are half a dozen others, all equally 
 good. 
 
SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF ALLA- 
 TOONA. 
 
 HE battle of Allatoona has never been 
 written up as it deserves. The few histo- 
 (cpf^ rians who have arisen since the close of the 
 <Vj3^ war have dished it in a paragraph, in which 
 were contained a few statistics as to forces, 
 the length and result of the battle, and a com- 
 pliment to the endurance and pluck of the Fed- 
 eral commander. And yet, this battle of Allatoona, 
 considered with reference to the numbers engaged, 
 its duration, and the interest involved, was one of 
 the most— if not the most — desperate, bloody, and 
 gallant conflicts of the whole war. 
 
 It is not my intention to write an extended account 
 of the battle; it is merely proposed, in the present 
 article, to embody a few salient recollections of some 
 of the men and the incidents of that terrific fight. 
 
 The soul, the inspiration, of Allatoona, was Gen- 
 eral Corse. On that occasion, he shot upward to an 
 altitude which, for many generations, will permit 
 his being a conspicuous figure among the heroes of 
 the war. 
 
 When I first became acquainted with Corse, there 
 was little or nothing in his appearance, position, or 
 surroundings, to indicate that he would attain dis- 
 tinction. He was a major of the 6th Iowa, of which 
 regiment John A. McDowell, brother of General 
 
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 173 
 
 McDowell, was colonel. The regiment was some- 
 where in central Missouri, engaged in guarding 
 some insignificant bridge. There was no glory in 
 present duties, and no brighter outlook in the direc- 
 tion of the future. 
 
 Corse struck me then as being dissatisfied. Lately 
 defeated as a candidate for a prominent political 
 position in Iowa, he had gone into the field to relieve 
 the pain of defeat. And now, guarding a railway 
 bridge, and subject to the dilatory policy and ineffi- 
 ciency of Fremont, there seemed little prospect of 
 bettering his fortunes. 
 
 Chafing, and discontented, he was driven back 
 upon himself. The result was a species of religious 
 outbreak. Corse, McDowell, and other officers, 
 formed themselves into a sort of Calvinistic organi- 
 zation. The chaplain prayed night and morning. 
 McDowell prayed at the table. If Corse did not 
 pray in public, he possibly did in secret. 
 
 I remained with the regiment a while, but, finally, 
 tired of its forced inaction, and not suited with the 
 austerity that took possession of every face, and in- 
 disposed to listen to McDowell's homilies on temper- 
 ance and morality, I left. 
 
 The next time I saw Corse was a week or two 
 later, at Jefferson City. A steady diet of prayer, 
 preaching, and Puritanical observances had been 
 too much for him. He was going home on sick 
 leave. I accompanied him to St. Louis, and thence 
 up the railway that led to Burlington. His trouble 
 seemed as much mental as physical. He suffered 
 intense pain, and was so worn out and racked that, 
 when I parted with him at Galesburg, I thought it 
 scarcely probable that he would live to reach home. 
 
174 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 And yet the slight figure possessed more vitality 
 than I supposed. When I next saw him, it was in 
 April of the following year, 1862. He had then been 
 assigned to staff duty, and was inspector general, I 
 believe, with Pope, a little above Pittsburg Landing. 
 He had lost his austerity, was bright, active, and 
 elastic. He had secured something to do, and his 
 vast ambition was gratified with the prospect of a 
 promotion. 
 
 From this period until the taking of Vicksburg, I 
 saw him at intervals. He became attached to Sher- 
 man, and being intrusted with some independent 
 military operations connected with the disposition of 
 Johnston, in the rear of Vicksburg, he so acquitted 
 himself that Sherman recommended him for promo- 
 tion, and he was made a brigadier-general. 
 
 When Hood marched around Sherman's flank, at 
 Atlanta, he meant mischief. He threw himself at 
 once upon the latter's communications, and cut the 
 railroad between Kenesaw and Allatoona. At the 
 latter place were a million rations. To have de- 
 stroyed these would have annihilated Sherman. 
 From station to station, was signaled the news of 
 Hood's movement, and Corse, who was at Rome, 
 was ordered to Allatoona with all his disposable 
 force. Cars were broken and unavailable, so that 
 he was able to embark but 700 men. With these, 
 and a plentiful supply of ammunition, he threw 
 himself into Allatoona. And then the Confederate 
 forces closed in upon him from every side. With 
 less than 1,500 men, he occupied an insecure position, 
 attacked by ten times his own number, and know- 
 ing that upon his efforts depended the safety of 
 Sherman's whole army, and the entire value of the 
 campaign from Chattanooga to Atlanta, 
 
Some Recollections of Allcdoona. 175 
 
 Every thing conspired to his isolation. The ab- 
 sence of cars from Rome prevented his bringing up 
 but a portion of his division. After his arrival, he 
 attempted to signal to Sherman, who was on Kene- 
 saw, twenty miles distant, his strength. He ordered 
 the message : " Corse is here with a portion of 
 his brigade, and must have reinforcements," to 
 be sent. The flagman had gotten as far as: "Corse 
 is here with — ," when a rebel shell cut his flagstaff! 
 in pieces, and then he ingloriously fled. Sherman 
 interpreted this as meaning, " Corse is here with 
 his division." Therefore, he regarded the situation 
 of Allatoona as comparatively safe, although he 
 pushed forward Cox to menace Hood, and to assist 
 in the defence. 
 
 It was at one o'clock in the morning that the Con- 
 federates commenced their attack. There was a 
 cessation a little after daylight, for the sending in of 
 a demand for a surrender, whose tenor and whose 
 gallant reply have become historical. And then the 
 battle was renewed. Allatoona was a small island, 
 against which dashed overwhelming and angry 
 tides. In a little time, the heavy, surging columns 
 of grey, had gradually driven in the advanced and 
 slender forces of Corse, until there remained to him 
 only a small work, near the summit, which com- 
 manded the supplies, and against which the mad- 
 dened enemy now bent all his energies to capture. 
 
 The little earth- work, with its outlying ditch, be- 
 came a red-hot volcano, and a slaughter-pen. It 
 commanded the approaches of an assaulting party, 
 and it was commanded by Confederate artillery. It 
 was red with the flashes of its guns, and the blood 
 of its defenders. It rained death like some vast and 
 infernal engine j and it was a huge furnace which 
 
176 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 roasted to cinders its contents. It was deadly alike 
 to friend and enemy. 
 
 Extending southwest of this fort was a ridge, from 
 which projected numerous wooden spurs. Forming 
 behind these spurs, the columns of the Confederate 
 Young would deploy on the ridge, and hurl them- 
 selves against the defences. It was the most acces- 
 ible, and yet the most defensible, position. 
 
 On the north and east sides of the fort the precip- 
 itous, broken country rendered an assault in great 
 force impossible. Hence, the key of the position 
 was the point of the works facing the ridge on the 
 southwest. At this point were the main assaults ; 
 and here were exerted the most strenuous efforts of 
 the defenders. 
 
 A short distance in front of the fort, and across 
 the brow of this ridge, was a ditch, waist-deep, per- 
 haps. Into this ditch were thrown as many men as 
 could be spared without weakening the other posi- 
 tions. 
 
 From one o'clock in the morning, save the half 
 hour or so occupied in delivering and returning the 
 demand for a surrender, the enemy deluged the 
 heights with shot and shell. When the smoke lifted 
 during the advance ot the flag of truce, the grey col- 
 umns could be seen at every point of the compass, 
 moving into position, and closing up their cordon 
 about the hill. 
 
 If the sparse few who saw these hosts, grew dis- 
 couraged, and concluded that defense was useless, 
 they were scarcely to be blamed. They were out- 
 numbered, ten to one, and many believed that a re- 
 sistance would only provoke exasperation, and re- 
 sult in a massacre. 
 
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 177 
 
 The commander had therefore, to struggle not 
 only against numerical superiority, but against a 
 feeling of discouragement, that took possession of 
 many of the men. As noon approached, and the at- 
 tacks of the Confederates had reduced the Federal 
 force to less than a single regiment, the discourage- 
 ment of his men changed into despair, and Corse 
 found the position beset by new difficulties. He 
 feared that there might be soldiers who would regard 
 surrender as a righteous alternative to a continued 
 defense, which promised no more than speedy cap- 
 ture and massacre by the men whom the tenacity of 
 the defence had driven to madness. To guard 
 against any such attempt as to run up a white flag, 
 he made himself omnipresent. He encouraged with 
 electric words those who clung to their positions; he 
 drove laggards into the ditches with savage impre- 
 cations; and he menaced with a cocked revolver 
 any one who ventured to hint that further resistance 
 was useless. He moved ceaselessly from point to 
 point, and was the genius who ruled the whirlwind 
 that raged around the crests of Allatoona. 
 
 In a little ditch facing the ridge to the southwest, 
 lay a portion of the 39th Iowa infantry, under com- 
 mand of Lieutenant-Colonel James Eedfield. He 
 was a good man to whom to intrust the key of the 
 fortress. He had long courted a fight. He was 
 anxious for distinction, and had often requested an 
 opportunity to display his merits. He was gratified 
 at Allatoona. He was given the post of danger and 
 of honor. And gallantly did this other son of the 
 Hawkeye State perform his task. Scorning the pro- 
 tection of the ditch, he placed himself on the rise of 
 ground behind it, whence he could overlook his 
 men. It was in full view of the assaulting forces, 
 
178 Army and Other Sketches/ 
 
 and he became the target of a thousand muzzles. 
 He moved about in the iron tempest, and amidst 
 the scorching flashes of shell and gun, like an in- 
 carnation of invulnerability and command. When 
 the serried masses of grey came up the crest, he was 
 a grand central figure in the background. His 
 waving sword, fierce oaths, and blazing eye rallied 
 the energies of his men, and stimulated them to 
 fresh exertions. His leg was broken, so that it dragged 
 like some foreign body, and yet he refused to leave. 
 They brought him a chair, and he planted himself 
 squarely in his old position. Bullet after bullet 
 struck him, but he never left his post. His words 
 of cheer grew fainter, his oaths less forcible, his 
 command less imperative. When the smoke from 
 one of the terrible assaults rolled up, he was dead. 
 
 A new danger now menaced the Federal com- 
 mander. The muskets of his men began to burst at 
 the muzzle, and there was danger that, in a little 
 time, further defence would become impossible. In 
 this emergency, he gathered all the wounded who 
 were able to lift a gun, and, selecting those rifles 
 which had burst, he placed them in the hands of the 
 wounded, with the bayonets pointing outward. 
 Here was an abattis of steel, feeble, it is true, but 
 one which enabled him to utilize every element of 
 strength in the command. 
 
 About noon a bullet ploughed along Corse's tem- 
 ple, and stretched him senseless. Had it passed the 
 hundredth part of an inch more to the left, it would 
 have ended the attack on Allatoona. But even while 
 senseless, the indomitable spirit still controlled the 
 prostrate body. An order, " Cease firing," awoke 
 him to sufficient consciousness to fear that surrender 
 was intended, and to fiercely countermand it. 
 
Some Recollections of Allatoona. 179 
 
 A little later, with head swathed in bandages, cov- 
 ered with blood, bare-headed, and blackened with 
 powder, he was moving among the feeble remnants 
 of his force, cursing, commanding, imploring a re- 
 sistance to death. 
 
 The men fought doggedly and despairingly on. 
 There was not a man of them that expected any 
 thing but death. The ditches became filled with 
 dead, whose pale faces, rigid features, and ghastly 
 wounds tended to fill the souls of the survivors with 
 fresh despair. The Confederates charged up to the 
 very brink of the rifle-pits, and their dead, as well 
 as those of the Federals, began to choke the slender 
 excavation, and make its occupation a matter of 
 more and more difficulty. 
 
 Seeing that the defenders of the southwest ridge 
 were becoming weakened to an extent that would 
 certainly prevent the repulse of another assault in 
 force, Corse made preparations to assist them. A 
 gun was dragged to an embrasure of the fort that 
 commanded the ridge. The dead of the fort clogged 
 his progress, and Corse removed them back, and 
 piled them like a heap of cordwood, to make room 
 for his single gun. Then the powder was cut 
 loose from some fixed ammunition, and poured into 
 the piece. A blanket was torn into square strips and 
 wrapped around a quantity of minie balls. This 
 improvised grape-shot was rammed home, and the 
 gun sighted down the crest. With hand on lan- 
 yard, a sergeant named Croxton, who was badly 
 wounded, knelt beside the piece awaiting the criti- 
 cal moment. 
 
 It was about four o'clock, when solid masses of 
 grey once more came from behind a protecting spur 
 of the ridge, and formed across it. In a moment 
 
180 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 they were in order, and then, with shrill yells, they 
 started toward the fort. It was the turning moment 
 of the day. They were coming in force, and with a 
 momentum that would have carried them over the 
 slender obstructions of the ditch, and up to and into 
 the fort. 
 
 It was just at this instant that the gun prepared 
 by Corse, was discharged. Its deadly contents tore 
 through the deep ranks like wind through chaff. 
 They melted before the hot blast, and disappeared. 
 
 It was the last assault. The day was won. 
 
 In this battle Corse lost over fifty per cent, of his 
 forces. Nearly one-half were killed outright, and 
 but few remained unwounded. He killed, wounded, 
 and captured more of the enemy than he had men 
 in his own command. 
 
 For these reasons do I think the battle of Allatoona 
 the most bloody, desperate, and gallant of the 
 whole war. 
 
IE REVELATIONS OF A WINDOW. 
 
 OR three or four years I lived in a certain 
 part of a certain city, whose name or loca- 
 tion is unimportant to che purpose of this 
 sketch. It does not matter to the philosophic 
 observer where a thing occurred. He knows 
 that human nature is so alike in its phenom- 
 ena, that something which takes place among 
 the Kamtschatkans is subject to the same laws and 
 deductions that is a similar affair developed among 
 the citizens of Chicago. 
 
 My place of business lay in one part of the city, 
 and my residence at another; and so far apart were 
 they that, in going from one to the other, I usually 
 availed myself of a regular public conveyance. 
 Owing to my confinement in the office, I invariably, 
 when the weather permitted, rode outside. In this 
 way, I always had plenty of fresh air, and an oppor- 
 tunity to engage in my favorite pursuit of studying 
 faces. 
 
 At a certain part of the route, over which I passed 
 every day, stood a two-story house. It was a struct- 
 ure of moderate pretensions, with blinds, and a pi- 
 azza, which, in summer, was clambered over by 
 luxurious vines. There were two windows below, 
 and three above. Of these three in the second story, 
 one was, I suspect, a ".blind," for, during my three 
 years' observation of the house, I never saw the 
 
182 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 shutters of this particular window unclosed. There, 
 then, remained four windows — two above and two 
 below; and it is to what I saw in, about and through 
 these windows that I wish to invite the attention 
 and judgment of the reader. 
 
 The piazza was roofed over just above the first 
 floor windows. In the summer time this piazza, to- 
 wards evening, became a pleasant place in which to 
 sit. The leafy vine shut out the heat, and the too 
 curious observation of the public; and there were 
 apertures between its branches, through which one, 
 in passing, could obtain glimpses of those who might 
 be sitting outside, or of the comfortable and well- 
 furnished parlor within, when the shutters were 
 open and the inside curtain not drawn down. 
 
 My observation of this house began one spring, 
 soon after a new family had moved into it. What 
 particularly attracted my attention was the fact 
 that, among other members of a family, which in- 
 cluded a deformed brother and an old lady who ap- 
 peared to be the mother, were two young women, 
 whose ages might have been respectively between 
 eighteen and twenty -two years. Neither was re- 
 markable for either beauty or plainness. They were 
 both tall, slender; with rather fine eyes, regular 
 features, and very heavy masses of dark, wavy 
 hair. Of course these peculiarities only revealed 
 themselves by degrees. It took some months for 
 me to be able to distinguish them apart, and to be- 
 come familiar with their features, form and other 
 traits. 
 
 Sometimes I saw them seated on the portico, when 
 I went up in the evening; but usually I saw them 
 seated at the lower or upper windows. They were 
 not always there when I passed, nor were they al- 
 

 The Revelations of a Window. 183 
 
 ways together. Sometimes I would not see either 
 for several days. At times one would be seated in 
 the parlor below, or one or the other would be stand- 
 ing at the window above. In any case, I rarely ever 
 had a view of them which lasted beyond a single 
 glance, or, at most, for more than two or three sec- 
 onds. The vehicle upon which I rode always moved 
 rapidly, and hence there was but little time allowed 
 for observation of any object along our route. 
 
 The reader now has before him the book from 
 which he is about to read. This book consists of 
 two young ladies, neither ugly nor handsome, of me- 
 dium intelligence, and who, together or singly, once 
 in two or three days, were visible at the window for 
 a space which varied from one to three seconds. It 
 is a very small volume from which to attempt to 
 read much; but it will, perhaps, be found that there 
 is a good deal more in it than there seems to be. 
 Eeading lives from faces is a species of short-hand 
 process. It is full of delicate characters, each one 
 of which expresses frequently a word, and often a 
 whole sentence. 
 
 The first thing that attracted my attention was, 
 that neither of the two young women appeared at 
 the windows except when she was, so to speak, in 
 full costume. They were never visible in the morn- 
 ing. Then the shutters were all closed. In the 
 afternoon some of the lower shutters were usually 
 open ; and, seated in full view of the street, was 
 one or the other, or sometimes both. At such times, 
 their toilets were elaborate. Their abundant hair 
 was artistically arranged, and their position such as 
 to show to the best advantage both hair and dress. 
 
 There was something in the careful toilette and 
 studied carelessness of their positions, which led to 
 
184 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 the conclusion that they had arranged them to at- 
 attract attention. That they were unmarried, was 
 evident from a hundred things, but chieflly that I 
 never detected them in deshabille or gloved for 
 household service. They were evidently unmarried, 
 and were waiting and watching. 
 
 The object for which they thus waited and watched 
 was apparent. Something in their positions and 
 faces revealed the secret. The former was always 
 suggestive of what I may term "adhesiveness." 
 When together they seemed to incline towards each 
 other with a movement that appeared full of affec- 
 tion, and which seemed to suggest the want of sup- 
 port. They seemed like two vines which had com- 
 menced twining about each other, and which by 
 the very operation suggested the necessity of a 
 stronger object upon which to twine. In short, there 
 was something in their position with relation to each 
 other which, while always attractive and interesting, 
 unavoidably left the inference that there was want- 
 ing the element of strength to complete the group. 
 The void which thus always appeared was one which 
 only could be filled by the strength of manhood. 
 No young man could gaze upon the picture without 
 seeing in it something which powerfully suggested 
 to him that he should become a part of it. 
 
 There was the same element of strength lacking 
 in the positions assumed by either of them when she 
 occupied the window alone. Of course, there was 
 variety in her attitudes; but they all showed the 
 same general character, and indicated the same re- 
 sult. She would sit, for instance, as if waiting. Her 
 body would be thrown forward ; her lips slightly 
 parted, as if to welcome the comer, her head turned 
 a little to one side, as if to catch the first foot-fall of 
 
The Revelations of a Window. 185 
 
 the expected one. Her eyes had, apparently, a lan- 
 guid, tender expression, as if the one who was com- 
 ing were one who would be met with rapture. At 
 other times, her attitude assumed the despondent. 
 Her bowed head would rest in her hand ; her half- 
 closed eyes would gaze pensively into vacuity; and 
 her whole expression would be that of profound de- 
 jection. 
 
 If the one position was suggestive of welcoming 
 some one, the other was equally suggestive of disap- 
 pointment at the arrival of no one. The latter 
 seemed to possess an expression of infinite loneliness, 
 Its inference was, that someone was lacking, — 
 somebody was wanted to chase away the loneliness, 
 to afford the bowed head a support other than the 
 slender hands, and to win the melting eyes from the 
 waste of tenderness which they were softly flashing 
 into vacancy. 
 
 Was this nature or art? I will not undertake to 
 say for the present. Suffice it, that in all their group- 
 ings, attitudes and expression, they suggested invari- 
 ably that there was an absent element. That element 
 was not that of woman. They seemed to develop 
 all that was womanly. The missing, the completing 
 element, suggested itself as one of strength, of man- 
 hood; of something which was the natural complete- 
 ment, and yet the exact opposite, of the various 
 qualities which they so constantly developed. 
 
 It is probable that every young woman naturally 
 expresses the same peculiar ideas that I gathered 
 from these groups in the window; but, ordinarily, 
 this is true only to a limited degree. In the case of 
 the average of young woman, these suggestions are 
 often scarcely understood by others; they are mys- 
 terious, tormenting, uncertain; but in the case of the 
 
186 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 two of whom I write, the inference from their efforts 
 was as plain as if written in a book. 
 
 As I have said, I have concluded that they were 
 waiting and watching. Deftly and patiently they 
 wove a shining web across the sashes. Now one 
 labored at it, now the other, and then both. Its 
 threads sparkled in the sunlight, and were reflected 
 with a shimmer which was sometimes that of silver, 
 or again one which was iridescent in the variety of 
 its coloring. It was a parti-colored and altogether 
 attractive web. One day a masculine fly fell into it; 
 and the labor was rewarded. 
 
 I knew the fly was caught, because the labor at 
 the web was discontinued; and I knew that nothing 
 save 'death would turn a woman from her course 
 when in pursuit of a husband. That they were not 
 dead, I knew, for I continued to see them through 
 the window. 
 
 It was some weeks before I caught sight of a slen- 
 der, weak-eyed youth, with a large head, and whom 
 I knew to be the fly that had ventured into the Cir- 
 cean web. But I knew that he — that is, some he — 
 had become entangled. I discovered it through the 
 window as easily as I had understood the process 
 and objects of weaving the web. I knew it because 
 the labor of weaving was discontinued. They came 
 to the window as often as before; but the spirit 
 which inspired the old groupings had gone. They 
 now came and sat down the same as ordinary peo- 
 ple. Neither expressed the action of waiting or ex- 
 pectation in the turn of her head or the poise of 
 her body. They sat down carelessly. They stared 
 through the windows at the passers-by precisely the 
 same as they would had the people been so many 
 cattle. 
 
The Revelations of a Window. 187 
 
 I readily discerned to whose share the victim had 
 fallen. It was she who suddenly passed from a con- 
 dition of pensive watching into one of common-place 
 indifference. Hitherto she had always appeared as 
 if expecting some one from the vacuity into which 
 she gazed. All at once, she was found gazing 
 straight into the street, or looking at her sister, as 
 if the question of twining had become obsolete. Her 
 hair lost its elaborate arrangement; her dress was 
 now as often calico as silk, — as often thrown on 
 loosely as it once had been fitted with the nicest 
 care. 
 
 It was some time before the victim was visible. I 
 first noticed him leaning disconsolately against the 
 window, and looking abstractedly at nothing. He 
 was always alone. He never seemed to form a part 
 of the tableau which had once so suggestively invited 
 his presence. Sometimes he was sitting in a chair, 
 and leaning very much forward. He appeared to 
 be possessed of a sort of married look, which ex- 
 pressed itself in a sort of general settling down of 
 his body towards his boots. He seemed to be grad- 
 ually passing from a solid to a gelatinous condition. 
 His abstracted air, his lonely look, his general ap- 
 pearance of " settling down," told the whole history 
 of his experience. He had ventured in to make the 
 third in the picture in the window. He had desired 
 to supply its needed complement.. He had offered 
 himself as the oak about which the clinging vines 
 might twine. He had presented himself as the ele- 
 ment of strength which only seemed lacking in the 
 grouping behind the sashes. As a third, as a com- 
 plement, as an oak, as an element of strength, he 
 was evidently a failure. 
 
188 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Some months rolled away, and, after a while, the 
 abstracted, lonely face disappeared from the window. 
 An interval occurred, and then there were some 
 strips of crape hung on the door-knob. Somebody 
 was evidently dead ; but the closed shutters gave no 
 opportunity to discover who was missing. 
 
 A week or so later, there was another picture at 
 the window. It was composed of the same old fig- 
 ures as the one which had been there long before. 
 But this time, one was robed in deepest black, and I 
 saw that she was a widow. 
 
 My last observations in that direction revealed that 
 the grouping at the window was still continued. 
 This time, it was the same, only more effective than 
 before. The frail, stricken form in black seemed 
 the very impersonation of weakness. There was a 
 suggestion, in every fold of the black robe, of a lone- 
 liness that needed companionship ; a weakness that 
 needed support ; a drooping that required the assist- 
 ance of a strong arm. There was the same vine 
 mutely appealing for something whereon to twine. 
 There was the same picture, suggesting the lack only 
 of masculine strength to secure its perfection. 
 
 And then the two were so admirably arranged, — 
 the one to contrast, to serve as a foil to, a suggestion 
 for the other. The supreme weakness and woe 
 revealed in the attitude and habiliments of the one, 
 suggested the need of a companionship more vigor- 
 ous, more strong, than were afforded by the other. 
 Ever the expression of the unwidowed one appeared 
 to be: "Come, strong arms, and aid me to sustain 
 this pitiful woe which now leans against weak me, 
 and overpowers my slender strength!" 
 
 And thus the glimpses through the window re- 
 vealed themselves; and thus the glimpses at the 
 
The Revelations of a Window. 189 
 
 window may be revealing themselves at the very 
 hour in which I write. The deft web-weavers may 
 be still at their labors of stretching the woof of their 
 enchantment across the sashes. The threads of the 
 web may still shimmer in the sunlight, — may still 
 reflect the rainbow in their coloring. 
 
 There are just such windows all over the world, 
 behind which are being woven just such webs. 
 There are thousands of silly masculine flies which 
 will become entangled in them, and, after a while, 
 will be tumbled out, the mere skin of their former 
 selves. Wherever there are artful women, and weak 
 young men, there are such groupings, such pictures, 
 such suggestions and invitations, and such results. 
 
A REVELATION OF CLAIRVOYANCE, 
 
 HE writer hereof is a clairvoyant. He can 
 see ahead of him, or behind him, when 
 ^ there is nothing to obstruct his vision. 
 
 The other day, after a discussion with a 
 young woman on progress, social science, nurs- 
 ing babies, Anna Dickinson, woman's rights, 
 and a few other matters, such as usually form the 
 staple of chit-chat between a young woman and a 
 young man, he fell into a reverie on the vast progress 
 being made by men and women. From a reverie he 
 passed into a clairvoyant condition, in which he 
 saw many things. Here is what he saw: 
 
 It was a century later than the great American 
 rebellion. Social science had developed with enor- 
 mous rapidity. Vast changes had occurred every- 
 where, but chiefly in the relations of the sexes. In 
 short, the conditions which existed in the nineteenth 
 century had become exactly reversed in the case of 
 men and women. The former had stopped growth ; 
 the latter had progressed. At the exact moment 
 when the writer, a fair-haired blond of twenty, ap- 
 peared among these reverse social conditions, women 
 and men had just exactly changed the positions 
 which they formerly occupied. 
 
 Woman had progressed to the ballot, and had con- 
 tinued on until she had usurped the rights of govern- 
 ing. As she seized upon the right, she had deprived 
 
A Revelation of Clairvoyance. . 191 
 
 man of it, and had gradually forced him downward, 
 and repressed him, until he was confined exclusively 
 to the family. Man had grown timid and modest; 
 woman bold and outspoken. She occupied the 
 counting-rooms ; attended the saloons ; ran the 
 billiard-rooms, edited the newspapers, filled the 
 public offices, and thronged the hall of the Chamber 
 of Commerce. He attended the boarding-schools; was 
 the domestic in the kitchen; nursed and reared the 
 children; filled the subordinate departments in the 
 public schools; opened and owned millinery shops; 
 danced in the ballet, and in short, felt and acted like 
 the women of the century before. 
 
 It was a pleasant summer day in July, 1971, that 
 this story begins. The golden-haired blond of 
 twenty who is writing this article found himself on 
 that particular day in the city of Chicago. He 
 seemed to know that he belonged to a previous age; 
 but yet he seemed to belong to the period and the 
 society of 1971. He lived at home with his parents. 
 His father was a gentle, amiable man, who was pos- 
 sessed of every quiet grace and accomplishment. 
 His mother was likewise remarkable. He was for- 
 tunate in his mother. She was a woman of wonder- 
 ful vigor of body and intellect. She was a lawyer, 
 and a rising woman of massive judgment, prodigi- 
 ous energy, and untiring perseverance. She com- 
 manded universal respect, and was in a fair way to 
 be elevated to the bench. 
 
 The golden-haired young hero of this tale found 
 himself sitting upon the shaded verandah of a pala- 
 tial house on an avenue on the West Side. Green 
 vines clambered over the piazza, and fluttered trem- 
 ulously, as touched by a cool breeze. Half con- 
 cealed by these umbrageous vines sat our sweet 
 
192 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 young hero. Near him sat his gentle father, en- 
 gaged in hemming a pocket handkerchief. Upon 
 the lap of the son lay a book. Near him was a 
 guitar. Through the open window was seen his 
 piano, and attached to one of its legs a gold medal, 
 and to another a cross of the Legion of Honor. It 
 was a superb Chickering-Steinway, and had taken 
 two prizes at the World's Fair. 
 
 In the eyes of our sweet young hero was a dreamy, 
 far-away look. His glance seemed to be turned up- 
 on something immeasurably distant — some scene 
 peopled with glorious visions. Anon,]a smile bright- 
 ened upon his pouting, cherry lips. Suddenly his 
 charming reverie was broken by the voice of his 
 father. 
 
 " My son," said the latter, " of what are you think- 
 ing so intently?" 
 
 A deep blush suffused the face of the golden- 
 haired, and it was with downcast eyes and a trem- 
 bling voice, which he vainly tried to render indiffer- 
 ent, that he answered: 
 
 "Oh, nothing, papa!" 
 
 An arch smile stole over the kindly face of the 
 father, as he noted these evidences of emotion. 
 
 "Ah, my sweet child! you can not deceive your 
 father. Come, now, confess: you were thinking of 
 Barbara, the law student!" 
 
 Carnation stole over his cheeks, and it was with 
 downcast eyes and averted face that he replied: 
 
 " Oh, papa! how can you?" 
 
 A moment later, and the blushing youth had flung 
 his arms about his father's neck, and his face was 
 hidden in his father's bosom. The low-breathed con- 
 fession then whispered in the father's ear by the 
 clinging, kneeling son, is too sacred for revelation. 
 
A 'Revelation of Clairvoyance. 193 
 
 Suffice it that it was. the confession of love's first 
 young dream. The father heard it all, and then, 
 pressing a kiss upon the brow of his clinging child, 
 he whispered: 
 
 " Have courage, my Jakie; all shall yet be well !" 
 
 With one strong, almost convulsive embrace, the 
 young boy released his hold, and fled with the speed 
 of an antelope to the quiet of his room. The old 
 gentleman gazed a moment at his retiring form, 
 and then, brushing a tear from his eye, murmured: 
 
 "Ah! sweet child! How like what I was once 
 myself, in years agone !" 
 
 It was night. The mother of our blond hero had 
 returned from her legal labors. 
 
 The family was gathered in the comfortable draw- 
 ing room. The mother sat with her feet on the 
 mantel, smoking a cigar, and perusing the twelfth 
 evening edition of a Chicago paper. The father 
 and son sat by the centre-table, engaged in em- 
 broidery. 
 
 " How does your suit succeed, my dear?" said the 
 father, breaking a prolonged silence. 
 
 "Oh, badly," said the head of the family, as she 
 threw down the paper with a gesture of vexation. 
 " You see," she continued, "the sympathies of juries 
 now-a-days are all with a man. If he applies for 
 divorce, or sues for breach of promise, a feminine 
 jury will always give him their verdict. Times are 
 not what they were." 
 
 "Well, never mind," said the affectionate father. 
 " Don't think of it. Read us the news in that de- 
 lightful, moral and poetical family paper, the Sun- 
 day Bulldozer." 
 
 The mother complied. Taking up the newspaper, 
 she read as follows: 
 
194 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 "Unusual Cruelty to a Husband.— Bridget Stapleton was 
 yesterday morning, at the police court, fined $50, and required 
 to give bonds of $500, to keep the peace toward her husband.. 
 The latter testified that he had passed through a siege of abuse 
 and cruelty, which had continued for nine years." 
 
 "The Case of Alleged Rape. — Mary Ann Lind, the young 
 woman accused of having committed a rape upon the person of 
 Jeremiah Elliott, a deaf mute, was arraigned at the police court 
 yesterday morning. No evidence was taken, and the case was 
 continued until Friday, in bail of $1,000." 
 
 "A Triple Sentence. — Delilah Guyton, a habitual drunkard, 
 and chronic husband-whipper, was yesterday morning sentenced 
 by Justice Sturtevant to pay a fine of $10, to be imprisoned 
 in the bridewell ten days, and to give $200 bail to keep the 
 peace." 
 
 " Women are becoming sadly demoralized," said 
 the mother of our golden-haired hero, as she folded 
 up the paper. "Nothing now-a-days but husband- 
 beating on the part of women, and applications for 
 divorce on the part of suffering men. It is terrible ! 
 something should be done to elevate man, and 
 make him less dependent upon woman. By-the-way, 
 my dear, you are one of the directors of the 
 Erring Man's Refuge; how does that institution 
 prosper?" 
 
 " Not so well as we could wish," replied the father, 
 with a sigh. " To be sure we are effecting some- 
 thing; but prosti " 
 
 A shriek from his son arrested the father's re- 
 marks. Turning toward the golden-haired youth, 
 he was seen to be in hysterics. 
 
 " It was your remark, sir," ejaculated the mother 
 sternly to the weeping father. " You do not seem 
 to consider his sensitive nature. Why will you use 
 such terms as pro—?" 
 
A Revelation of Clairvoyance, 195 
 
 Another and a louder shriek from the son inter- 
 rupted her remarks. Burnt feathers and hartshorn 
 were applied, and in a little while the youth opened 
 his beautiful blue eyes. 
 
 " Where am I, father?" 
 
 66 Here, darling, in your father's arms," said the 
 latter, as he chafed the palid brow of his golden 
 haired son. He was soon after removed, sobbing, 
 but quieted, to his bed; and then, returning to the 
 parlor, the parents resumed the conversation. 
 
 "We can do but little," continued the father, as 
 he took up his embroidery, " because our sex seem 
 mad beyond remedy. For every fallen man that we 
 take from the bagnio, there are a dozen who take his 
 place. Abandoned men boldly walk the streets, 
 haunt our places of amusement, and every where 
 jostle decency and virtue. The love of display in 
 men; their vanity; their confidence in women, — 
 these are what lead men to ruin. I am sure I do 
 not know where to look for the remedy." 
 
 And thus for hours the conversation flowed apace. 
 
 Another night passed, and another day came. It 
 was towards sunset. The boulevards, avenues and 
 promenades of Chicago were thronged with its mul- 
 tifarious populations. Fair men and brave women 
 crowded the thoroughfares, fanned by the breezes 
 that fluttered inland after dipping their wings in the 
 cool waters of the lake. • 
 
 It was a motley crowd that flowed along the chan- 
 nels of the city. Abandoned men, gorgeous in dress, 
 bold in looks, and painted like tiger-lilies, thronged 
 the streets. At the crossings, and gathered in knots 
 here and there, were women, who expectorated to- 
 bacco juice, puffed out volumes of cigar smoke, in- 
 
196 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 dulged in ribald conversation, and commented upon 
 the faces and ankles of the passing gentlemen. 
 
 Adown a principal thoroughfare came a beautiful, 
 golden-haired young man, dressed with exquisite 
 taste. His countenance seemed the home of purity 
 and modesty. He saw the bold glances of the wo- 
 men lounging at the street-corners, but he under- 
 stood them not, save that they filled him with an 
 indefinable terror and loathing. 
 
 As his resplendent figure passed, men turned en- 
 viously, and women admiringly, to notice him. 
 
 At a distance, dogging his footsteps like sleuth- 
 hounds, came two ill-favored, female ruffians. Ever 
 at such a distance behind the golden-haired vision 
 of loveliness, came the two. 
 
 Twilight melted into night, and the beautiful young 
 man seemed, suddenly to awake from a delicious 
 reverie, and to become aware that night had fallen. 
 Looking about him with a glance of terror, he saw 
 that he was standing upon Rush street bridge. Be- 
 yond him was the lake, and beneath him Chicago 
 river. He turned to retrace his steps, when suddenly 
 he felt himself clasped by rough, strong arms. A wild 
 shriek for help rang out upon the startled air; and 
 then he became enshrouded with blissful uncon- 
 sciousness. 
 
 " Look alive, Semantha!" said one of the ruffians; 
 "that yell'll bring the perlice. Ef Mother Kennedy 
 gets after us, we're a goner." 
 
 So saying, they they lifted the inanimate form of 
 the unconscious youth, and bore it rapidly towards 
 a hack which had constantly followed them. 
 
 At the moment that the ruffianly-looking female 
 driver stood holding the door, and as the two she- 
 
A Revelation of Clairvoyance 197 
 
 wretches were about to thrust in the pallid victim, 
 there came an interruption. There was a rush of 
 swift footsteps and, a moment later, a stalwart 
 young woman, with eyes blazing with wrath, stood 
 upon the scene. 
 
 ' ' Unhand him, scoundrels!" and, as she uttered 
 this in thunder tones, she launched out from the 
 shoulder with both hands, and the she-ruffians rolled 
 in the dust. Lifting the inanimate body of the 
 youth, she sprang into the carriage. 
 
 "Now, woman, devil! drive us to my father's. 
 You know me! Woe be on your accursed head if 
 you do not obey." 
 
 Cowed by her eye of fire, the driver climbed upon 
 her seat, and drove rapidly away. 
 
 " It is I, Jakie darling. Do you not know me?" 
 
 Jakie unclosed his beautiful eyes. The glare of a 
 passing street lamp flashed in the carriage window, 
 and he saw that he was in the arms of his own 
 Barbara ! 
 
 We draw a veil over the scene that followed. Suf- 
 fice it that, moved by gratitude for his escape, and 
 the passionate appeals of Barbara, the beautiful 
 youth consented to name the happy day. It was 
 fixed for that day fortnight. The maternal blessing 
 was given, and gorgeous preparations were made 
 for the bridal. Time rolled away, and, on the morn- 
 ing of the appointed day, the golden-haired young 
 thing was arrayed in his bridal garments and sur- 
 rounded by sympathetic bridesmen. 
 
 A stately woman advanced, hands were clasped, 
 and the solemn words uttered which united indisso- 
 lubly the lives of this strong woman and this beau- 
 tiful, virtuous man. 
 
198' 
 
 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 The writer regrets being unable to state what fol- 
 lowed, owing to his being recalled early the same 
 evening from his clairvoyant condition. The last he 
 remembers was being shown to the nuptial chamber 
 by his benevolent father. 
 
A LEAP YEAR ROMANCE. 
 
 H O'ST love me, sweet one?" 
 
 The hot blood rushed tumultuously into 
 my burning cheeks as I heard this impas- 
 sioned inquiry. My long lashes involuntarily 
 sank upon my cheeks. My heart drummed a 
 fierce tattoo against my breast. My long, taper 
 fingers worked convulsively with my watch- 
 guard. My voice sank back into my throat, and my 
 reply came like the low murmur of waters, as they 
 flow modestly from the fountain-head into the garish 
 light of day. And the reply? It was: 
 "You bet!" 
 
 She clasped me convulsively to her bosom. My 
 head fell upon her shoulder. The next moment she 
 tenderly lifted my averted face, and our lips met in 
 a long, clinging kiss. 
 
 This was on the evening of February 5. 1868, in a 
 house on the West Side. I was just nineteen. Born 
 in wedlock, I had already entertained a veneration 
 for that institution. 
 
 I was just nineteen. My soul was pervaded with 
 new and bewitching sensations. Mysterious, and 
 yet delicious, flushes wandered through my being, 
 coming and going I knew not whither. They were 
 like aromatic breezes in search of flowers to breathe 
 upon, and finding them not. These flowers which 
 
200 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 my soul lacked were the young buds of passion, — 
 of love. The germs — both plumule and radical — 
 were there, but undeveloped. Hence, nothing for 
 the mysterious breezes to breathe upon, — to dally 
 with, — to caress. 
 
 But, on that evening, these germs suddenly ex- 
 panded. They budded into modest tenderness, and 
 then blossomed. 
 
 She who spoke to me — whose magic awoke these 
 sleeping forms, and covered my whole interior life 
 with young and gorgeous blossoms — was a lady of 
 twenty-one summers. She was a magnificent crea- 
 ture. Her luxurious chestnut hair was ruffled in 
 front like a wave touched by a disturbing breeze. A 
 magnificent water-fall rose from, and intensified the 
 expression of, her organ of philoprogenitiveness. 
 Her eyes were dark as night, and seemed to float in 
 a humid tenderness. Her teeth were diaphanous 
 pearls. Her mouth was wide, with voluptuous lips 
 that unfolded like a scarlet revelation. They were 
 lips as suggestive of what was within as is the red 
 flag of the auctioneer. 
 
 Her shoulders were of an exquisite roundness. 
 They were like ivory injected with rich, red blood. 
 Her white bosom rose and fell, not with the angular 
 regularity of a pair of bellows, but with graceful 
 and wave-like undulations. Her slender waist might 
 
 be clasped with one's interlocked fingers. Her , 
 
 but I forbear, lest I become tedious. 
 
 We sat side by side on the sofa. Her arm had 
 stolen about my waist, and had drawn me close — 
 very close — to her. Her other hand wandered, like 
 an ethereal and shapely materiality, caressingly 
 through my young moustache. My head reclined 
 upon her marble shoulder; my nostrils drank in an 
 
A Leap Year Romance. 201 
 
 almost imperceptible, but intoxicating perfume, that 
 emanated from the warm pillow of alabaster. My 
 senses were rocked with the undulations of the 
 bosom. The perfume bewildered; the almost im- 
 palpable motion lulled; the touch of her fingers gave 
 forth electric discharges that thrilled through my 
 sensuous centres with a result that was half scorch- 
 ing and half ecstatic. I seemed sinking into an 
 abyss, which yet, while an abyss, was pervaded 
 with delicious intoxication. I did not appear to be 
 falling, but rather, as it were, floating gently down 
 toward something, I knew not what, and which 
 half -invited and half -terrified me. 
 
 But suddenly something seemed to call me to my- 
 self, — to life, — to reality. With a superhuman effort 
 I lifted myself from out the abyss into which I was 
 was falling, — falling. I lifted myself up, as a man 
 who, standing in a basket, should, to escape some 
 deadly peril, suddenly put forth a giant's strength, 
 and lift himself over a protecting wall. 
 
 I came back to life from some nameless terror, 
 whose outlines I saw beyond me. I saw but out- 
 lines. What menaced me I knew not. 
 
 Raising my eyes suddenly to hers, I saw that their 
 blaze was toned down with an ineffable tenderness. 
 The richest of carnation glowed all over her -cheeks 
 and bosom. I was seized with a nameless terror. 
 
 Bidding my wildly-throbbing heart be still, I sum- 
 moned steadiness to my voice, and said: 
 
 " Now that you have wrung a confession of love 
 from my lips, when will you marry me?" 
 
 The soft light rolled away from her eyes, as mists 
 disappear from the face of the sun. The blood fled 
 from her cheeks. Her eyes dropped confusedly. 
 
 ".Marry — you?" she stammered. 
 
£02 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 "Yes, my own, marry me. Let us, in this mo- 
 ment of bliss, name the happy day, as men who 
 slightly drunken with strong tea, agree upon a time 
 when they shall meet for an intoxication upon the 
 fiery wines of France." 
 
 "Nay, but, love," she said, "let us not now dis- 
 cuss this. To-morrow, or next week, we will ar- 
 range definitely our future. Let us not, with base 
 dates, derange the spell of love's first, young dream. 
 What is time to us? " 
 
 "Miss," I replied, "this minute, — this fractional 
 portion of the present second! Not to-morrow for 
 me!" 
 
 "Ah, you distrust me!" she exclaimed in a re- 
 proachful voice. 
 
 "Not distrust," I said, "but — safety." 
 
 "You have no confidence in me, my love! Be- 
 lieve in me, — confide in me, — trust me! Let us 
 defer what you speak of till another meeting." 
 
 Suddenly I tore myself from her grasp, and sprang 
 into the centre of the room. All the dark perfidy of 
 the woman rose before me ; her sinister intentions 
 flashed over me, like a revelation come by light- 
 ning. 
 
 "Fiend! monster!" I exclaimed, as I menaced her 
 with uplifted finger, — "I know you! Begone from 
 this abode of purity! Such as you have no place 
 here ! Avaunt ! Quit my sight, ere I call upon 
 heaven's thunderbolts to annihilate you in the midst 
 of your wicked purpose ! " 
 
 Paralyzed by my vehemence, she arose, and, with- 
 out one look or word of farewell, left the house. I 
 stood erect and flashing with haughty anger, till she 
 had disappeared, and then I sank helpless and 
 senseless to the floor. 
 
A Leap Year Romance. 203 
 
 It was hours before I recovered consciousness. 
 Since that hour, I have been weak and stricken, but, 
 nevertheless, grateful, like one who has faced, and 
 then escaped, a deadly peril. 
 
 I write this for the benefit of my brethren. This 
 year is one that menaces us with mortal wrongs. 
 Only those who are warned may escape. Even 
 those who are warned will need far more than ordi- 
 nary resolution to secure their safety. 
 
 Ah! my brethren, let us be vigilant. For twelve 
 months will we be exposed to the attacks of a foe, 
 than which there is none more subtle, seductive, and 
 dangerous. Let each man who listens to my words 
 take warning, and prepare himself for a struggle 
 whose issues involve more than death. 
 
THE HORRORS OF MASONRY* 
 
 a* 
 
 HE noble enterprising, and moral Christians 
 
 who met in Chicago for the purpose of kick- 
 
 |pn^ ing over Masonry, have my profound sym- 
 pathies. Why I thus sympathize with their 
 efforts, I shall proceed to relate. 
 
 Out in a smiling little railway town there 
 can be seen, to-day, the remnants of a man. He 
 now, in his reduced condition, weighs only 220. Had 
 not there happened to him the fearful event which 
 I am about to narrate, he might now weigh as much 
 as a ton, or as the editress of The Agitator. 
 
 It was two years ago that this citizen became pos- 
 sessed with the righteous idea that Masonry is a 
 blight, a wilt, a blast. After carefully examining 
 the matter, he felt himself called upon to undertake 
 a crusade against the afflicting organization. After 
 consulting with several of his friends, he concluded 
 to join the order, get its secrets, and then annihilate 
 it by revealing them. 
 
 Bidding a tearful farewell to his loving wife, and 
 clasping her in a fond, it might be a last, embrace, 
 he started on his pilgrimage. 
 
 Going boldly to a lodge-room, he knocked loudly 
 at the door, and was bidden to enter. He went in. 
 
 At that precise moment, the air was rent, and the 
 earth shaken by a terrific burst of thunder. His 
 knees smote together, as this menacing roar tore 
 
The Horrors of Masonry, 205 
 
 through his ear; but he pressed forward, nerved by 
 a high sense of duty. 
 
 It was noon of the following day. The single 
 street of the little village was lined with anxious 
 faces. Every man, woman and child had turned 
 out to discuss the fate of him who had gone the night 
 before to discover and reveal the secrets of Masonry. 
 His frenzied wife, clasping an infant in either arm, 
 tearing her disheveled hair with her hands, ran 
 hither and thither, like a maniac, in search of her 
 loved and lost. 
 
 Since the time of his departure, he had not been 
 seen or heard of. It was believed that he had fallen 
 a victim to the fury of the conspirators whom he 
 had undertaken to expose. 
 
 Gradually the women, and the children, and the 
 men, gathered in front of the gloomy pile which was 
 believed to contain the penetralia in which met the 
 dread Masonic order. With upturned faces, and 
 anxious hearts, they gazed at its closed shutters, 
 each of which seemed the repository of some awful 
 secret. 
 
 Suddenly the front doors opened, and then, pro- 
 pelled by a tremendous kick, there shot into the 
 street a horrid form! 
 
 It was that of the lost husband; but, oh! how 
 changed! He was neither naked nor clad, for upon 
 his left foot was a slipper; upon his right, a stock- 
 ing; around his neck, a noose with a dangling cord! 
 
 He came down the steps at a headlong pace. His 
 eyes were bloodshot, and were lighted with a glance 
 of mortal terror. As he reached the sidewalk he 
 recovered himself, and looked wildly around. 
 
 Thus he stood for five minutes, and then a woman 
 
206 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 covered her face with her apron, and the other 
 women, a few minutes later, followed her example. 
 
 Then he gave a demoniacal yell, and charged 
 through the crowd. Up the street he tore like a 
 maddened bull, yelling at every jump, as though 
 punched with a red-hot iron. 
 
 The entire population started in pursuit. He kept 
 on for three days, and then run himself into the 
 ground, and was captured. He was found to be an 
 idiot. He asserted that his name was Solomon 
 Abiff, and he wanted an acacia set out in his ear. 
 
 To-day this victim of Masonic cruelty wanders 
 about, aimless and hopeless. He often mistakes 
 some body else's wife for his own, and can not rec- 
 ognize his own children. He is a melancholy wreck, 
 and his friends have determined, as a last resort, to 
 secure him a consulship to some foreign nation. 
 
 Does not this affecting incident prove the nefari- 
 ous character of Masonry, beyond all dispute? 
 
 Some years ago I knew of a most foul murder 
 being committed. A Mason was arrested for the 
 crime. He was not convicted. 
 
 It was proved that he was 500 miles away at the 
 time, and that the murdered man was killed by some 
 body else. But what of that? Who doubts that he 
 escaped because he was a Mason? 
 
 I know another case which shows the devilish dis- 
 position of Masons. A prominent married man 
 applied to a friend whom he supposed to be a 
 Mason, for the degrees. The latter got together six 
 others, and organized a plan to receive the appli- 
 cant. 
 
 The latter was received on the night in question, 
 in the" lodge" room. Blue lights burned, and sol- 
 
 
The Horrors of Masonry. 207 
 
 emn gongs roared, while the seven conspirators 
 groaned portentously in chorus. 
 
 And then the applicant was blindfolded and led 
 over one turned-up table, across twelve inverted 
 chairs, tripped over seven extended legs, soused in 
 four tubs of water, slid down one soaped board, 
 against the grain, and was then brought up to be 
 examined. 
 
 Sworn on an authenticated copy of Munchausen, 
 to tell the truth, he was interrogated by the G. R. J. , 
 who was the village physician. 
 
 " Confess," said the latter, il all your sins. If there 
 be one crime on your conscience, you must reveal it. 
 On your honor, on your solemn oath, have you ever 
 done aught to wrong the marital relations of any 
 citizen of this village?" 
 
 "Must I answer this question? " said the shrinking 
 candidate. 
 
 "You must, would you ever pass beneath the 
 Royal Arch," solemnly responded Dr. R. " Answer, 
 now, upon your fearful oath." 
 
 "No one, then, except — except — in the case of — 
 Doctor R. ! " reluctantly confessed the candidate. 
 
 Suddenly Dr. R. launched out his right hand, and 
 "handed" the candidate "one" on his smeller. 
 Then the latter tore off his bandage, and, being 
 game, he responded with his left. Then the two 
 clinched, and fought all over the one table and 
 twelve chairs; four times up and down the soaped 
 board, and in and out every tub of water, for four 
 hours and thirty-eight minutes. Both were licked 
 so badly that they had to be carried home on 
 blankets. 
 
 A suit for divorce followed, and Dr. R. and Mrs. 
 R. took separate lodgings, 
 
208 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 This heart-rending occurrence exemplifies, further, 
 the atrocious character of Masonry. It is seen that 
 Masonry is a convenient garb in which men not 
 Masons may perpetrate inhumanities and nameless 
 crimes. I charge upon Masonry the breaking up of 
 the happy family of Dr. P. , by separating him from 
 a wife, who loved wisely, and two well. 
 
 As a further proof of the infamous character of 
 these Morgan-killers, I will expose some of their 
 orgies which occurred at Haas's Park, near the city 
 of Chicago. 
 
 St. John's day is observed by those people who 
 killed Morgan. Morgan is a man who was killed in 
 time to carry an election. His initials are G. E. , — 
 Good Enough Morgan. 
 
 The men who killed Morgan had red plumes in 
 their hats, at Haas's Park, which indicated their 
 bloody character. They also had swords. They 
 are the same kind of swords with which G. E. 
 Morgan was slaughtered. They also carried several 
 immense poles, which are pointed at one end. These 
 poles are employed for the purpose of marking spots 
 to be used for the graves of those whom the order 
 slaughters. 
 
 A good many of the men had engravings of skulls 
 on their breasts. These are accurate likenesses of 
 the skulls of men who have been murdered by the 
 Masons. When a Mason has killed three men he is 
 entitled to wear a likeness of his victims' heads, 
 and to take the degree known as Golgotha. 
 
 This is the true explanation of these skull badges. 
 Of course the Masons do not own it. They pre- 
 tended that they wore these skulls on account of the 
 wet weather. They said a flood might come up, 
 
The Horrors of Masonry. 209 
 
 and they wanted to be ready to skull themselves to 
 dry land. 
 
 Each of them had the number 32 among his en- 
 signa. This is the number that each of them is 
 sworn to kill. 
 
 The Masonic performances at Haas's Park were 
 of a sinister character. How many men and women 
 were slaughtered during the orgies of the day, and 
 buried among the shadows, no one, unless a member 
 of the anti-Masonic societies will ever know. One 
 man not a Mason was discovered among the crowd. 
 An hour later, he was found lying on his back be- 
 hind a tent. He was dead, yes, dead— drunk. 
 
 Some of the ceremonies of the saturnalia were hor- 
 rifying. One Druidical looking Mason, with a 
 long, gray beard, and lurid spectacles, read some- 
 thing from a roll of manuscript. As he did so he was 
 surrounded by an auditory that occupied itself with 
 weird and fantastic ceremonials. His words seemed 
 to fill them with a strange power. Unearthly sounds 
 filled the building, in which one could distinguish 
 gurgliDgs like that of blood from gashed throats, or 
 the flow of champagne from bottles. The air was 
 filled with whizzing pellets the size of corks. Bursts 
 of demoniacal laughter tore through the din. The 
 further the speaker with the lurid spectacles pro- 
 ceeded, the louder grew the clamor. 
 
 It was a fine address — probably. It was a cere- 
 monial said to be illustrative of the condition of the 
 Masons who built the tower of Babel. 
 
 Some of the Masonic rites are peculiar. As every 
 thing about the craft has some mathematical con- 
 nection, the triangle, the square, the pentagon, etc., 
 were symbolized. The circle was represented by 
 six small rings about the size of a silver dollar. A 
 
210 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Masonic candidate would take these six rings and 
 attempt to throw them, one at a time, over spikes 
 driven in a board. To take one of these degrees 
 cost twenty-five cents. If the candidate threw one 
 of the rings around one of the spikes, he was ad- 
 judged worthy and well qualified. 
 
 Another degree, which was conferred upon a good 
 many, was one in which the candidates stood' in 
 rows, and poured an amber-colored fluid, with a 
 creamy surface, into their opened mouths. These 
 degrees cost five cents each. One man took forty- 
 two of these during the afternoon. He was then 
 the highest Mason on the ground, except a ther- 
 mometer. There was a thermometer on the ground 
 that had reached the 85th degree. 
 
 Every once in a while would be heard a loud ex- 
 clamation. It came from somebody who was being 
 murdered. In several cases of which I was a wit- 
 ness, these fell victims of Masonic vengeance were 
 outsiders, who were disposed of by being shot in the 
 neck. 
 
 Lovely women were there, who mingled with the 
 descendants of men who killed Morgan as freely as 
 if they had been pious members of the Young Men's 
 Christian Association. A woman is a mystery. Her 
 liking for Masonry can only be explained on the 
 ground that it is composed exclusively of men.. In 
 loving Masonry, she is engaged in a sort of whole- 
 sale business of the affections. 
 
 The sexton of the order is a man named Berry. 
 He has charge of the Berry-al services. It has its 
 Bailey, which will hold more than any other insti- 
 tution of the kind in existence. 
 
 And all this time the killing was going on about 
 the encampment. Just how many were slaughtered 
 
The Horrors of Masonry. 211 
 
 will not be known with certainty until the next 
 meeting of the anti-Masonic Convention. 
 
 Mrs. Liyermore is not a member. She stated in a 
 late speech that when she was born she turned her 
 face to the wall and wept because she was a girl, 
 and was, therefore, forever debarred from being a 
 Mason and obtaining her rites. 
 
 There were several cases of missing men, which 
 shows the true character of Masonry. One woman 
 missed her husband. They had been long married, 
 and she had learned to like him. And now he was 
 gone. She commenced a frantic search. She found 
 him in a tent, conversing in low, impassioned tones 
 with a woman younger and better looking than her- 
 self. Her heart was broken at the sight! Such are 
 the doings of Masonry! 
 
 They had what was called an encampment. A 
 Mason in camp meant one who was engaged in 
 something horrible, as can be proved by the pro- 
 ceedings of the anti-secret national convention. The 
 latter had some camps. These scamps at Farwell 
 Hall differed from those camps at Haas's Park. 
 
 Toward night, when the Masons grew tired of 
 slaughter, they simply selected their victims, and 
 left them bound. I saw scores of them bound— for 
 home. It was a thrilling spectacle. One's heart 
 bled as he contemplated their woe-begone faces. 
 
 There were two Masons there who seemed to ap- 
 preciate the true character of the order to which 
 they belong. Their names are W. A. Stevens and 
 J. Ward Ellis, dentists. Both of them are in the 
 habit of looking down in the mouth. 
 
 Enough has been said, in this article, to show up 
 the true character of Masonry. Their orgies, at 
 
212 Army and Other Sketches, 
 
 Haas's Park, among the trees, show their treas- 
 onable nature. The number of knights among them 
 prove the darkness of their proceedings. Unless 
 everybody wishes to be Morganized, they should be 
 suppressed. 
 
 
A DREAM, AND HOW IT WAS FUL- 
 FILLED. 
 
 Mb 
 
 | N the fall of 1862 I was suddenly called from 
 home by pressing business. The affair ne- 
 
 ^s 
 
 cessitated a journey of several hours by 
 rail, and then the crossing of some fifty miles 
 J$* of country on horseback. I calculated to reach 
 the railroad terminus on the night of the day 
 upon which I left home. Procuring a horse, I pro- 
 posed to leave the terminus early the next morning, 
 and to gain the end of my journey some time during 
 the earlier portion of the following night. My busi- 
 ness would consume two days, and I should return 
 in two more; and hence my absence would be in- 
 cluded within a week. 
 
 The place at which I was living was a large city 
 in one of the Southern States, and the few miles of 
 railroad were the beginning of a line which, when 
 completed, would cross the State. The point to 
 which the road was completed was a town of some 
 three hundred inhabitants; and here resided a dis- 
 tant relative of my wife. I had been married only 
 a week when the necessity which called me across 
 the State made its appearance. 
 
 Very naturally, my wife objected to the journey; 
 but, as it was imperative, — involving many con- 
 siderable interests, — I could not yield, however 
 gladly I would have done so, to her request. It 
 
214 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 then occurred to her that she might accompany me 
 to the terminus of the road, and there, with her rela- 
 tive, await my return. My desire for her society, 
 and also to gratify her, overcame some objections 
 which suggested themselves when I thought that 
 the place at which she would have to stay was but 
 poorly supplied with comforts, or even ordinary 
 conveniences. I hinted at the existence of these 
 probable discomforts; but it was of no avail. 
 
 "That may all be," said she; "but they will not 
 last long; and, besides, I think them a very cheap 
 price to pay for the pleasure, of your society to T. 
 and return. 
 
 Women, with the dew of girlhood yet fresh on 
 their lips, and sparkling in the sheen of their eyes, 
 possess irresistible argumentative powers, al- 
 though, mayhap, they have never heard of Whately. 
 
 Of course, I consented; and, at a little before dusk 
 that same day, we found ourselves dismounting from 
 the train at T. I found, without difficulty, the resi- 
 dence of my wife's relative; and, in the course of 
 half an hour, we were under his roof. 
 
 The residence of my wife's relative — whom I will 
 call Hermance — was situated about three-fourths of 
 a mile from the outskirts of the town. It was a 
 farm-house of the better-class, and was surrounded 
 by the usual negro-cabins and out-houses. 
 
 At that time, the war was in progress; and the 
 country about Hermance's was liable to be visited 
 by roaming bands belonging to both sides. My 
 friend had never taken an active part in politics; 
 and, being supposed to be quiet, conservative and 
 inoffensive, he had the good will of both the bellig- 
 erents, and, in consequence, was rarely disturbed by 
 either. The most that had hitherto happened to 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 215 
 
 him was the taking of a horse, or the slaughter of 
 some of his hogs; but even these depredations were 
 not authorized, and were committed against the 
 orders of, or were unknown to, responsible parties. 
 
 Just at that time, rumors reached the place that a 
 one-armed guerrilla, noted for his brutality and dis- 
 regard of all right, was, with a small force, ravag- 
 ing the country, some seventy miles distant. But 
 he had hitherto confined his operations to the lower 
 portion of the State, and it was not expected that 
 he would venture so far north as T. His perform- 
 ances were, therefore, discussed simply as a portion 
 of the current news of the day, and not with any 
 view to his probable appearance in that neighbor- 
 hood. 
 
 The unsettled state of the country disquieted me 
 somewhat; and I, therefore, urged upon my wife to 
 return to the city in the morning train. She refused, 
 and was the more obstinate in her refusal for the 
 reason that Hermance and his family were emphatic 
 in pooh-poohing the idea that the slightest danger 
 was to be incurred by her remaining. 
 
 "And then, only think," said my wife, "of the 
 long journey to town, all alone. Besides, I want 
 some fresh air; and then, by staying here, I shall 
 see you ever so many hours sooner." 
 
 There is no particular use of reasoning during the 
 honeymoon; logic is an after-growth; and, conse- 
 quently, I soon found myself under the necessity of 
 yielding. I gave a reluctant and foreboding consent; 
 and the next morning, at daylight, upon one of Her- 
 mance's unequaled horses, I was cantering up the 
 valley-road that led to my destination. 
 
 It is not necessary to describe the details of my 
 ride, further than to say that the weather was 
 
216 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 superb and bracing, the roads dry, hard and excel- 
 lent. Just before sundown, I drew rein at a dilapi- 
 dated " hotel" of a half -ruined country town named 
 
 R , w T hich was the place to which my business 
 
 called me. Two or three times during the day, I 
 met country people, and, in our exchange of news, I 
 had been told that " One- Armed Johnson," as he 
 was termed, was moving northward. At each time 
 that this rumor was mentioned, it was accompanied 
 with an account of some fiendish atrocity said to 
 have been committed by this ferocious leader. 
 It was said that he had shot down this one in 
 cold blood in the midst of his family; and that, 
 in another case, the wife and daughter of some 
 other had been given over to the brutal lusts of 
 the gang, in the very presence of husband and 
 brothers. 
 
 These things did not have much effect upon me 
 until I had retired to my bed at night. During the 
 day, the swift rush of the air, and the constant ac- 
 cession of new subjects,— of trees draped in all the 
 variegated glories of autumn; of flocks of wild tur- 
 keys crossing the road before me; of an occasional 
 deer bounding away in the depths of some wood, — 
 all these had distracted my attention, and left me 
 little opportunity of pondering upon the information 
 I had received. 
 
 But, with this silence of night, my mind had full 
 scope for the examination of the intelligence which 
 I had received. As report had it, Johnson was 
 marching directly towards T. ; and, as he was only 
 some seventy miles distant three days before, it 
 began to seem to my excited imagination that, if he 
 continued northward, he would, within a very short 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 217 
 
 time, reach the neighborhood in which I had left my 
 wife. 
 
 Disagreeable as were these reflections, I could 
 console myself only with the idea that I could not, 
 at the instant, do any thing to prevent what might 
 occur. Much troubled, but hoping for the best, I 
 finally, and, with many starts and wakings, fell into 
 a profound sleep. 
 
 How long I slept before my thoughts began to 
 take shape and form themselves into regular pro- 
 cesses, I can not remember. The most I can recall 
 with reference to this portion of the night is, that I 
 fell asleep after a long time; and then there ensued 
 an oblivion which surrounded me, as it were, by a 
 great waste of darkness. 
 
 When my recollection grasps what first occurred, 
 I seemed to be some where in the midst of a chaos, 
 of which I was the only living figure. I was 
 upon a vast plain, like that which would remain 
 were the sun blotted out, were vegetation to die, and 
 were all motion and life struck from existence. A 
 great darkness lay upon everything, through which 
 I could peer for a short distance, but in which I could 
 only discover vast rocks, with precipitous sides and 
 innumerable points. Among these rocks there were 
 no paths, no voices, — nothing but a silence, which 
 was awful in its extent. 
 
 How long I wandered here I can not tell. I 
 seemed to have no definite aim; but it appeared as 
 if I sought something whose character I did not 
 know. This something was to be gotten only by 
 moving forward; and thus I continued to wander 
 for a length of time, which appeared that of a 
 lifetime. For all these years I groped amidst this 
 darkness, — clambering over and around the ever- 
 
218 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 lasting rocks, — and meeting always with only the 
 profound silence and the interminable gloom. My 
 companions were the unyielding rocks, the obscurity 
 and the silence. I would attempt to cry out at 
 times; but my voice seemed frozen. It was as 
 noiseless as a stream locked in the embraces of win- 
 ter. 
 
 After what was a century of, wandering amidst 
 the solitude, the pointed rocks, and the darkness, 
 there came a period which possessed motion, but no 
 life. Truncated cones, with their smaller ends 
 touching the earth, and their bases high in air, and 
 inclined a little from the perpendicular, seemed to 
 revolve with enormous rapidity. Beside these, there 
 were immense globes, and they spun about their 
 centres with infinite swiftness. Both were the color 
 of burnished silver; both were stationary, save in 
 their revolutions about their own centres. Noise- 
 lessly, but with a dizzying swiftness, their bodies 
 revolved. There was still no life,— only these forms 
 and their revolutions. There was no seeming cause 
 for their motion. They spun like the balance-wheel 
 of a machine after the power has been removed. 
 
 To the world of my dreams there were now added 
 light and motion. It needed yet life for its comple- 
 tion. 
 
 In the new phase of my dream, to which there had 
 come light and motion, I appeared to have no im- 
 portant part. I moved among the whirling cones and 
 spheres as if they had been non-resistant. When I 
 ran against one of them, it seemed to enter my form 
 as if I had been simple air; and, while one was thus 
 against me, or partly within me, its motion kept up 
 continuously, and I experienced a peculiar feeling, 
 as if that portion of my form, or body, within the 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 219 
 
 reach of the whirling object, had become a part of 
 it, and as if it had partaken of the motion. 
 
 This light and this motion gave me no impression, 
 save a dim premonition that they indicated the swift 
 approach of some terrible catastrophe. 
 
 Motion and light had been added to the original 
 chaos of my dream. Suddenly there came Life. 
 
 A transition, so rapid that it left me no time to 
 note the details of how the one , disappeared and the 
 other came, suddenly occurred. In an instant the 
 revolving cones and spheres gave place to a wooded 
 road winding down the valley of a shallow stream. 
 I recognized it as the road along which I had trav- 
 eled the morning previous. At "the same instant, 
 there came the resonant clatter of hoofs; and, a mo- 
 ment after, a party of horsemen, on a swift gallop, 
 emerged from the forest, and moved in the direction 
 of the settlement I had left in the morning. 
 
 They were a rough, ferocious crowd. They were 
 dressed in almost every conceivable manner, from 
 blue to gray, and including the rough homespun 
 dress of the farmer. All had guns lying across their 
 thighs at the pommels of their saddles. Some had 
 sabres, whose steel scabbards gave forth a metallic 
 rattle as they bounded from the flanks of the horses. 
 Nearly all had revolvers strapped to their waists; 
 and a few carried enormous knives, not unlike 
 rudely-constructed swords. 
 
 At their head rode a man of vast stature and pro- 
 digious breadth of shoulders. His black hair hung 
 in long and tangled masses below the collar of his 
 gray coat. He wore a slouch hat with an immense 
 brim, which, turned up above his eyes, gave him a 
 singularly wild, reckless appearance. His beard 
 was of great luxuriance, and hung down till its ends 
 
220 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 mingled with the tossing mane of his fiery horse. 
 His left arm had been taken off between the elbow 
 and the shoulder. With his right hand he managed 
 the motion of his horse, and seemed to guide it rather 
 by volition than by the touch of the reins. 
 
 I recognized " One- Armed Johnson/' and his 
 band of guerrillas. 
 
 It required but a second to notice all these details. 
 I had barely taken them in when the cavalcade 
 emerged from a gorge formed by the narrowing of 
 the valley. At this point, the road crossed the 
 stream, and ran at right angles across the sloping 
 valley up to the height upon which was situated the 
 house of my friend Hermance. 
 
 Plunging into the stream, the party sent the water 
 flying in wild confusion, and then they cantered up 
 the slope. I appeared to be standing at the exact 
 point where the valley suddenedly widened out from 
 the gorge. The sloping ascent of the road, the 
 farm-house, in unsuspicious security, the party of 
 brigands were all before me as if upon a map. I 
 divined their purpose; and I made the most fran- 
 tic efforts to advance in the direction of the house. 
 I could not move an inch. An invisible, but im- 
 penetrable, wall seemed to bar my progress; and I 
 dashed myself against it vainly, but with frenzied 
 desperation. I essayed to call out; but my voice 
 seemed to reach only to my lips. 
 
 All the time I saw the party of horsemen advanc- 
 ing. When about half way up the slope they sud- 
 denly, at a word of command from their leader, 
 formed abreast, in two lines, on his right, facing to- 
 ward the house. A moment after, some dozen or 
 fifteen moved in advance of the rest. They daployed 
 like a line of skirmishers; and, while the centre 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 221 
 
 moved forward slowly, the right and left flanks ad- 
 vanced rapidly, till the line resembled a long cres- 
 cent. This line moved forward, and closed about 
 the building, entirely surrounding it; and, an instant 
 after, the leader and the main body, at a swift gallop, 
 dashed on the green in front of the house. 
 
 There was a moment's parley; and then a long 
 puff of white smoke, with a thin body of flame, 
 poured from one of the windows, and, almost simul- 
 taneously, a riderless horse detached itself from the 
 struggling mass, and, with a snort of terror, galloped 
 up the road, and, with swinging stirrups, disap- 
 peared over the brow. 
 
 What followed passed with the rapidity of light- 
 ning. There were fierce flashes, puffs of smoke, the 
 thud of bullets, and the sound of breaking glass. 
 Then a blue smoke rolled up from the further side 
 of the house, which soon became darker, and was 
 mixed with great gushes of flame. I saw that the 
 house was fired. The flames burst from a window, 
 then ran in spirals under the eaves, and then 
 crawled, like slender serpents, over the roof. A lit- 
 tle later, and the roof was a volcano, which seemed 
 to vomit flame, smoke, and cinders, which shot to 
 an immense height, and then fell outward, as if the 
 whole were a fountain bursting upward with irre- 
 sistible power. 
 
 Just before the flames enveloped the whole struct- 
 ure, I saw a female figure rush wildly to an upper 
 window, and then recoil as if appalled by the hell 
 of flames which roared around and beneath her. It 
 was my wife! I saw her turn away with a wild, de- 
 spairing look, and an imploring gesture; and then 
 the flame and smoke enshrouded the window, and I 
 saw her no more. 
 
222 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 I made one more tremendous effort to rush to her 
 assistance. The invisible barrier seemed to give 
 way before me, and I plunged madly forward; but, 
 at the very first bound, infinite depth suddenly 
 yawned beneath me, and I felt myself falling into 
 space— down, down, with terrible velocity, like a 
 cannon-ball dropped from the clouds; and then, as I 
 seemed about to be crushed to fragments against 
 the bottom of the abyss, a strong, yielding medium 
 appeared to receive me, to break the force of my de- 
 scent; and then I awoke. 
 
 Day was just dimly breaking. A few weak rays 
 of grayish light entered my room, and gave to its 
 contents a ghastly visibility. The horrors of my 
 dream were fresh upon me; and, impelled by an in- 
 definable terror, I had but one thought — that of 
 reaching T. Dressing myself, I hurried forth to the 
 stable; and, throwing a few ears of corn before my 
 horse, I waited with feverish impatience through 
 the age which was consumed by the animal in eat- 
 ing. I could not eat; and I only waited till the corn 
 had disappeared to take my departure. Without 
 disturbing any of the household, I led out my horse, 
 threw ^myself in the saddle, and spurred savagely 
 on my return. 
 
 I devoured the space which separated me from T. 
 with a fevered body and a soul constantly racked by 
 the horrors of my dream. My mind's eye saw con- 
 stantly the figure in the window, stretching appeal- 
 ingly its white arms for aid. My imagination fol- 
 lowed it within the shroud of fire and smoke, and 
 saw it rushing hither and thither, and at length fall- 
 ing, suffocated by the pitiless flames. I saw con- 
 stantly the shuddering, writhing form, and my ears 
 rang with its shrieks of anguish, 
 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 223 
 
 It was scarcely more than four hours — as I after- 
 ward learned — from the time that I started, that I 
 found myself entering the gorge at whose termina- 
 tion was visible the residence of Hermance. I recog- 
 nized the features of the stream, the banks, and the 
 narrowing valley, exactly as they appeared in my 
 dream the night before. In another moment I should 
 have before me the blackened ruins of the farm- 
 house and my soul reeled as I anticipated the first 
 view of the desolation, and the subsequent revela- 
 tions of its horrors. The road was filled with hoof- 
 marks, and the water still lay on the stones and 
 sand where it had been splashed by the passing ani- 
 mals. The next instant, dashing across the stream, 
 I rounded the abutment of the gorge, and, with a 
 shudder of apprehension, turned my eyes to the rise 
 beyond me. 
 
 It was a beautiful September day. The air was 
 pure as crystal, save where delicate forms of smoke 
 drifted along or reclined upon the horizon. Beyond 
 a peach orchard lay the brown farm-house, and 
 around it clusters of negro cottages. From its chim- 
 ney there curled, peacefully and lazily, a light-blue 
 smoke. Some negro children and dogs gamboled 
 among the trees. Quiet, peace, beauty, reigned 
 over the scene, 
 
 There were no smoking ruins — no desolation. The 
 farm-house with its patriarchal and sylvan surround- 
 ings, slept as peacefully under the autumn sunlight 
 as if it had been located among the Isles of the 
 Blessed. 
 
 It would be tedious to relate the surprise occa- 
 sioned by my appearance; my explanations, and the 
 chagrin of my friend over the ruin of his blooded 
 saddle-horse, I will merely state in this connection. 
 
224 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 that there had been no alarm from any source since 
 my departure. 
 
 I have only to add that, two or three days later, 
 among some captures made during a cavalry expedi- 
 tion, was that of this same one-armed guerrilla and 
 several of his companions. He was brought to the 
 city, and, inspired by curiosity, I resolved to see this 
 terrible bandit. I readily obtained admission to a 
 position where I could see him as he traversed the 
 corridor of the prison. 
 
 To my intense surprise, I found before me the fac 
 simile of my dream. There were the same long, 
 unkempt locks, falling over the collar of the gray 
 coat; the same enormous beard, stalwart form, 
 broad shoulders, and arm missing between elbow 
 and body. 
 
 I entered into conversation with him; and he was 
 garrulous and boastful in relating what he had done, 
 and what he had designed doing. Among other 
 things, he said: 
 
 " I had a nice thing on hand a day or two before 
 I was picked up. I had heard that there was a pay- 
 master at T. , and I intended to go for him. The 
 night before I intended to take the town, I was in 
 camp at R. In the morning, I found that a fellow 
 in the Government service, who had just come from 
 T., and who had staid all night at R, had left be- 
 fore daylight and gone back to T. I suppose he had 
 found out some how that I was around, and what I 
 meant, and had gone back to head me off. Any- 
 how, I thought I wouldn't go that time. 
 
 "You are acquainted at T., are you? Well, if 
 you know a man there by the name of Hermance, 
 just give him my compliments, and tell him, if I 
 ever get out of this, I want some of his horses. He's 
 
A Dream, and how it was Fulfilled. 225 
 
 got some of the best stock this side of h — 11. And 
 tell him, too, that when I come after his horses, I'll 
 just take his scalp, for I've heard that he's been 
 playing double. I meant, when I went for the 
 paymaster at T., to give Hermance a call; but the 
 thing will keep, and I'll drop on him some other 
 time." 
 
GETTING A DRINK UNDER DIFFICUL- 
 TIES. 
 
 feAKEherup!" 
 £ " I'm alone!" 
 "Pass!" 
 
 Yes, 'pass;' that's the word. Just pass 
 that pocket ordnance, will you?" 
 I was the last speaker. My vis-a-vis on the 
 car seat laid down his 'lone hand — both bowers, 
 queen, and seven-spot— reaching into the breast- 
 pocket of his overcoat, and hauled out a big-bellied 
 pocket-pistol. Unscrewing the metal cap, I inhaled 
 the delicious aroma of some S. O. P. After giving 
 the sense of smell an opportunity, as it were, to 
 take a drink, I applied one end of the flask to my 
 mouth, and slowly elevated the other. 
 
 A thin stream of the electric nectar had began to 
 crawl lazily throatward over my tongue; the thril- 
 ling intelligence of a coming drink had just begun 
 to be telegraphed from the nerves of the mouth to 
 other portions of the system; stomach, brain, ex- 
 tremities, were beginning to thrill with anticipated 
 bliss over the expected libation — when 
 
 I regret, even at this distant moment, to say that 
 I never took that drink. 
 
 Raising my eyes with somewhat of that instinct- 
 ive thankfulness which animates a chicken when it 
 
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 227 
 
 takes a sip of cooling water, I happened to glance 
 out the car window. 
 
 " Good heaven, Tom ! There's the old man 
 Marsh ! " 
 
 The S. O. P., that had began to trip, like a nup- 
 tial march, across my tongue, was suddenly inter- 
 rupted. Down went the flask, and, a second later, I 
 was occupying a seat on the other side of the car, 
 and was engaged in solemnly gazing out of the 
 window upon the waste of snow that stretched away 
 to the horizon. 
 
 This promising drink was not taken, this change 
 of seats was made, because I happened to see a 
 portly old gentleman, with a double chin, a cane, a 
 rheumatic limb on one side, and a not fashionable 
 stove-pipe hat, walking along toward the car in 
 which we sat. 
 
 This was the old man Marsh who had spoiled my 
 drink. 
 
 Who was the old man Marsh? 
 
 Mr. John Marsh was a lumber-merchant who lived 
 not a thousand miles from Chicago. He was well 
 to do. He had a pinery in Wisconsin, rafts on the 
 Mississippi in summer, and lumber-yards all over 
 Iowa and Wisconsin, the year round. What was of 
 more importance to me, he had a daughter. 
 
 A young woman, with a fine form, a peachy 
 bloom on her cheeks, and eyes like black diamonds. 
 I had met this young lady, and her motto, hence- 
 forth, in my case, was: veni, vicli, vici. 
 
 Just then out of college, and embarked in a liter- 
 ary career, I was somewhat given to look upon the 
 wine when it was red, and the accomplishment of 
 tasting it. It seemed to agree with me. 
 
228 • Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 Now, if Mr. John Marsh loved any thing next to 
 his daughter and a good lumber season, it was the 
 virtue of total abstinence. A young man who in- 
 dulged in the flowing bowl was to him a good deal 
 worse than a broken raft with no insurance, or any 
 other unmitigated evil. 
 
 I had just commenced publishing a daily news- 
 paper in Davenport, Iowa. On the morning of 
 that particular day there had come to me from 
 Chicago a harum-scarum youth, to his intimates 
 known as Tom Meeley. Tom was just from Cam- 
 bridge, and was reading law with a Chicago 
 Blackstone. Tom intermitted the study of law with 
 practice at the har. He was a heavy practitioner 
 for a young one. 
 
 Since then, he has gone into short-hand and extra 
 mural gardening, and he doesn't do as much of the 
 bar practice as he did. 
 
 On that Christmas morning of December, 1856, 
 Tom had induced me to take a run over to Iowa 
 City. The Legislature was in session; things were 
 lively at the capitol; and fun was reasonably to be 
 anticipated. 
 
 Taking along two flasks of liquid refreshments, 
 two other young men to make up a euchre party, 
 and a pack of cards, we took the morning train. 
 
 At the very first station after leaving* Davenport, 
 had occurred what I have above alluded to. 
 
 I was very thirsty. I had not wet my lips that 
 morning; and was preparing for what my friend 
 Mort. terms "an Enormous drink," when Mr. John 
 Marsh passed across my line of vision. 
 
 A minute or two later, the portly form of the old 
 gentleman filled two-thirds of the seat which I oc- 
 cupied, 
 
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 22§ 
 
 He was glad to see me. Had been to see about 
 a lumber bill, at the place where he got on, and was 
 going to Iowa City, to see about some more lumber 
 bills. 
 
 I inquired respectfully about the health of his 
 amiable self. Then about that of his respected wife. 
 Then about the lumber business. Then about a re- 
 ligious revival in his town. Finally about the fair 
 Harriet. The latter query elicited only a senten- 
 tious reply — "Oh! she's well." 
 
 En passant, there had come rumors to that good 
 old man's ears that I was a trifle given to a habit 
 which all Good Templars look upon with religious 
 abhorrence. Therefore had he not been overwhelm- 
 ingly enthusiastic in such slight advances as I had 
 made in the direction of the gentle, young Harriet. 
 
 Therefore did he a trifle abridge his reply when, 
 after inquiring after sixty-five other things, I ven- 
 tured to inquire after a certain old man's daughter. 
 
 Meanwhile, my late companions were luxuriously 
 engaged. Tom, who knew my reasons for leaving 
 the party, had imposed non-intercourse upon the 
 others. They shuffled, cut, dealt, went it alone, told 
 riproarious stories, and shamelessly took drinks the 
 while. 
 
 Especially did they aggravate me — who was so 
 thirsty — by nodding at me when I looked, and when 
 my companion wasn't looking, then reversing their 
 flask, and letting me hear the musical gushing of 
 what was as much denied me as the cup to Tanta- 
 lus. 
 
 " Isn't it terrible that young men should act so?" 
 said my venerable companion, indicating, with a 
 jerk of his head, the party across the way. He 
 looked searchingly into my face for my reply. 
 
230 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 "< Terrible!' Oh, yes! It is terrible! My heart 
 bleeds when I see young men thus wasting the 
 golden opportunity of youth, and indulging in prac- 
 tices which must terminate in disaster, disgrace and 
 ruin!" 
 
 The face of Mr. John Marsh at once assumed a 
 changed expression. He seemed suddenly to think 
 more of me. We talked of how wicked are wicked 
 men, and how good are good men. He even told 
 me something about Harriet. 
 
 We were all in the hotel at Iowa City. It was 
 nearly bed-time. The old gentleman had taken a 
 wonderful fancy to me. He had even insisted that 
 we should occupy a double-bedded room. 
 
 He had not left me a moment after the arrival of 
 the train. I had introduced him to some of the 
 State officials. He had invited me to a plate of 
 oysters with him. 
 
 He felt toward me like a father-in-law. 
 
 Meanwhile I was thirsty to distraction. It was a 
 nipping day; and there came from the subterranean 
 recesses of the hotel an aroma of hot punch that 
 was maddening as a fat beef -steak two inches be- 
 yond the nose of a chained buH-dog. With the 
 aroma there ascended the sound of song and laugh- 
 ter. 
 
 I was getting to be insane. I heard Tom's voice. 
 I knew what was occurring. I felt the glow of the 
 hot stove — inhaled the fragrance of the steaming 
 punch; I felt it thrill me like a shock of bliss— all 
 in imagination. 
 
 Mr. John Marsh never quitted me for a moment. 
 We talked business, politics, morality, religion, and 
 
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. °°1 
 
 the benefits of a virtuous life. He requested me, 
 just before bed-time, to wait while he wrote home a 
 note. 
 
 I afterwards saw the postscript to the note. Here 
 it is: 
 
 -'Tell Harriet I have met Mr. . I like him very much. 
 
 The reports about his dissipation are false. He is one of the 
 steadiest, most serious, and promising young men I know. I 
 have no further objection to her receiving his attentions." 
 
 Ten minutes later, this inflexible old man had 
 hauled me off to bed. I went as a hungry epicure 
 would leave untasted a superb dinner to go fifteen 
 miles through snow-drifts to visit a sick neighbor 
 down with the measles. 
 
 A lemon-y odor, and a roaring old chorus of 
 
 " We won't go home till morning." 
 
 were the last thing that I smelled and heard as we 
 entered our room and shut the door. 
 
 It was maddening. I thought of rebelling. Then 
 I thought of the peach-cheeked Harriet. And then 
 I thought I wouldn't. I crawled into bed, wonder- 
 ing what the d — 1 old Tantalus would think, provid- 
 ing he was placed where I was. 
 
 Suddenly a bright idea struck me. I would have 
 just one punch, anyhow. The old gentleman was 
 in bed, and couldn't smell my breath. A plan! A 
 plan! Eureka! 
 
 "Oh, Lord! Oh! Oh! Oh!" 
 
 "What is it?" came in an alarmed tone from my 
 companion's bed. 
 
 "Oh, my! Oh, dear! such a pain! Oh, oh! oo — 
 oo— oo !" 
 
 He offered to get up, and go for a doctor. He 
 
232 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 was confoundedly willing and most infernally sym- 
 pathetic. 
 
 "No, my — oh! — dear sir. No — oh — oh! Don't 
 disturb yourself. Only — oh! — oh! — a sudden spasm. 
 All I need — oh! is a little camphor or something!" 
 
 I slid into my garments, and went off groaning 
 like an overladen freight locomotive, promising to 
 return in a few minutes. 
 
 As the door closed on me, the spiced gales from 
 below struck my sense of smell as the sight of water 
 greets the sight of one who is dying from thirst. 
 Following my nose as one might push in the teeth 
 of a stiff breeze, I pursued the aroma till it brought 
 me to the depths below. 
 
 A warm smell of sawdust, the pervading fragrance 
 of lemon and Scotch whisky, the sight of Tom and 
 three others sitting about a table with steaming 
 punch pitchers before them, were what greeted my 
 nostrils and eyes as I entered the hall of the sym- 
 posium. 
 
 There was a roar of delight at my appearance. 
 
 "A punch, quick, boys !" 
 
 Some two or three minutes were consumed in 
 mixing. I whetted my senses with the steaming 
 fragrance. I was overwhelmed with questions. 
 The boys sang, roared, questioned, drank. I an- 
 swered as I could, and, between the while, thun- 
 dered at the boy: 
 
 "Quick, for your life, and as strong as light- 
 ning! " 
 
 It came — hot, aromatic, penetrating, promising. 
 I poured it into a goblet. 
 
 " A toast ! a toast ! " roared the red-faced bac- 
 chantes. 
 
Getting a Drink under Difficulties. 233 
 
 " Up, then, to your feet," said I. " Fill to your 
 brims. Here's to the sweetest young woman on the 
 footstool, and to myself, her future husband, and to 
 the oldest result thereof, whose name shall be " 
 
 ' ' I stopped petrified. The sentence was never 
 finished. I was facing the entrance while speak- 
 ing. The door was slowly opened and there entered 
 
 Mr. John Marsh ! ! 
 
 The countenance of that venerable old statue in 
 the doorway will haunt me to the end of my time. 
 
 Sometime after this tremendous occurrence, I saw 
 a letter written on the 26th of December, 1856, and 
 dated at Iowa City. It had a P. S., which read as 
 follows: 
 
 " Tell Harriet I have since altered my mind about . I for- 
 bid her having any thing to do with him. He is a dissipated, 
 shameless young man. I caught him in the very act of drinking, 
 after having deceived me most abominably. And, to crown it 
 all, he had the unblushing impudence to ask me to take a hot 
 whisky to the health of his future father-in-law." 
 
 This letter was signed, "Your Husband, J. 
 Marsh." 
 
 I have only to add that, some time after, I did 
 marry a woman with diamond-black eyes, a peachy 
 complexion, and whose name is Harriet. 
 
 How, and through what tremendous labors, this 
 was accomplished, mattereth not. 
 
A MORAL COUNTRY PLACE, AND ITS 
 PEOPLE, 
 
 EN— that is, men who labor — are bows, 
 and their purposes are their arrows. Bows 
 which shoot often, necessarily are bent a 
 S^Sfe good deal. It is a good plan to take off the 
 string occasionally, and hang them up in 
 the sun to regain elasticity. 
 Sagittarius is a citizen who has been in the 
 bow business for some time. He became much bent 
 in consequence. His arrows went feebly, and 
 dropped short of the mark. Sometimes they hit, 
 but fell back harmlessly. Sagittarius was losing 
 his springiness; his string gave no metallic twang, 
 but hung rather limp and loose. And so Sagittarius 
 took off his string, and took himself into the coun- 
 try. 
 
 The country is a good thing. It evolves the mys- 
 teries of growth. In its elements of growth there 
 are collateral elements of strength and recupera- 
 tion. It has a surplussage of forces which are not 
 needed in production, and which communicate 
 themselves by contact, as the steel takes magnetism 
 from the loadstone. These recuperative forces can 
 not be bottled and transported. They must be 
 smelled, and tasted, and felt at their places of 
 origin. One can not bring sunlight into a closed 
 room. He must go where the sunshine is. It will 
 
A Moral Country Place and its People. 235 
 
 not come to him. It can not be carried in his car- 
 pet-sack, like a bottle of bitters. And so of all the 
 other forces. The perfume will not leave its birth- 
 place in the flower. 
 
 Being a thrifty health-seeker, Sagittarius avoided 
 Saratoga, the Beach, and the White Mountains. 
 Seeking a point where there is a union of the mini- 
 mum of men and the maximum of nature, he be- 
 took himself to Kamengo. There are a railroad, a 
 postoffice, a few churches, and a good deal of prairie 
 at Ramengo. Around it are broad wheat-fields in 
 brown stubble, and corn-fields green as an array of 
 Fenians. Belts of timber straggle forward from or 
 disappear in the distance. Little groves of scrub 
 oak dot the emerald prairie. There is a tinkle of 
 cow-bells about the town; and here and there may 
 be seen masses of brown, and black and white, 
 which closer inspection resolves into browsing cat- 
 tle; and the whitey-brown piles at intervals are 
 known by the initiated to be sheep. 
 
 Such are some of the surroundings of Ramengo, as 
 they revealed themselves to Sagittarius when he 
 alighted at the depot. There were some people 
 around the depot. They are the same people that 
 Sagittarius has seen all his life at every railroad de- 
 pot. They seemed detailed for depot service, and, by 
 some singular means, they transport themselves from 
 one depot to another, and always get to one just be- 
 fore the train. There is one short, thick-set man, 
 who rushes up with a canvas mail-bag, which a man 
 with a pencil behind his ear takes into the car, and 
 at the same time hands out another which is the 
 twin brother of the other. There is a man with 
 large boots, who puts' an old hair-covered trunk on 
 the train, and takes off another hair-covered trunk, 
 
236 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 which looks like an elderly cousin of the one just 
 starting out. There are two young women, who 
 chew the end of their parasols, and who always ex- 
 amine the train as if they expected their long-ab- 
 sent uncle. These two young women have dresses 
 of rather loud colors. They gaze bashfully at the 
 grimy faces in the car- windows; and sometimes, 
 when some one stares at them rather impudently, 
 they turn aside and remark to each other confiden- 
 tially something which sounds like " Te, he!" There 
 is the ex- veteran, or rather a sore-eyed ancient in a 
 cavalry coat, which you suspect may have been a 
 donation. There is an African who suns himself 
 upon an adjacent fence; and two young men with 
 very large feet, and enormously long legs, and ex- 
 ceedingly round shoulders, who stare open-mouthed 
 into the car-windows, and then proceed to "make 
 game" of the tired-looking " city feller" that gets 
 off from the train. There are a burly cart-man, 
 with a sleepy horse, and a half-dozen boys, who, in 
 all variety of costume, chase each other across the 
 car-platforms, in and out the depot, or across the 
 track in front of the engine. There is also the in- 
 evitable one-legged individual, and close by him 
 are two dogs, which inspect each other with tails 
 stiff as ramrods, and many growls. 
 
 This saw Sagittarius at Ramengo. A pretty, blue- 
 eyed young woman revealed herself through the 
 open door of the depot. Her fingers were busily 
 clicking some notes on that collection of coils, and 
 magnets, and acids known as "the instrument." 
 Such fingers should hold converse only with the 
 strings of harps ; they were now sending an order 
 for butter, or giving information as to the supply of 
 eggs. It must be heavenly for a woman to be a tel- 
 
A Moral Country Place and its People. 237 
 
 egraph operator, for then she will come in possession 
 of so many secrets. And yet it must be torture for 
 a woman to be a telegraph operator, for then she 
 will know a thousand things which she cannot tell 
 to any other woman. 
 
 Ramengo is an interior town, and resembles more 
 or less several hundred other interior Western towns 
 of the same size. There is one street, upon which 
 are all the shops and places of business. There are 
 some cross and side-streets, upon which live the in- 
 habitants. In front of each store is a hitching post, 
 half gnawed in two by nibbling horses. Occasion- 
 ally there is a wooden awning. The buildings are 
 mainly of wood, one story in height, with a high 
 false front to make them look like several stories. 
 
 Ramengo prides itself upon being a most extra- 
 ordinary moral place. It sums its virtues up in three 
 propositions, to-wit: 
 
 I. There are no billiard tables in the place. 
 
 II. There are no whisky or beer saloons in the 
 place. 
 
 III. There is no rebel paper taken in the place. 
 Such a high state of morality in so wicked an age 
 
 greatly surprised Sagittarius. He marveled at the 
 moral proficiency of the people. He debated within 
 himself whether or no the millennium had not 
 arrived and settled at Ramengo. He saw almost as 
 many churches in town as there were other houses. 
 The countenances of the men wore a look of high 
 devotion. The women appeared saint-like, as if 
 they had made up their minds that this is a very 
 wicked world outside of Ramengo. 
 
 Ramengo is prolific in children. There are mul- 
 titudes on the streets; and the few doctors are hard- 
 worked to attend to all the new arrivals. Every 
 
238 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 other man met by Sagittarius was in a tremendous 
 hurry, and Sagittarius soon learned that he was 
 going for the family physician. In the contour of 
 the married ladies on the streets, or elsewhere, the 
 parabole abounded. 
 
 • The rising generation on Ramengo did not strike 
 the observing Sagittarius as sharing fully the high 
 moral superiority of their anti - billiard - table, 
 anti-whisky-saloon, anti-copperhead progenitors. 
 These young people — those of the masculine sex — 
 are given to much irreligious and unsaint-like con- 
 duct. They are disposed to haunt the single street 
 of Ramengo at all times, and in endless quantities. 
 A young man promenading with a young woman 
 affords the young Ramengoans an opportunity for 
 much unseemly converse designed for the benefit of 
 the promenading two. An innocent and verdant 
 stranger from the wilds of Chicago or New York, 
 finds himself the object of much hilarious and not 
 altogether complimentary comment among these 
 youthful observers. The young of the godly people 
 of Ramengo are prone to blasphemy. They are dis- 
 posed to oaths whose length and frequency would 
 excite the envy of a veteran pirate. Sagittarius 
 heard and saw all these things, and he reflected 
 with pious joy that, whatever else these sons of 
 pious sires were guilty of, they had not at least to 
 answer for the greater sin of reading rebel litera- 
 ture. 
 
 It is. a pleasant thing to sit under the awning and 
 watch the ebb and flow of country life. All day 
 long, teams come and go, as the farmers enter upon 
 or depart from trading expeditions. The farmer's 
 rig is about the same everywhere. There are a stout, 
 substantial vehicle^ and two sturdy horses. They 
 
A Moral Country Place and its People. 239 
 
 always come around the corner, and up to the store- 
 front, at tremendous speed. If one walk a little out 
 of town, he will see the horses coming in at the 
 slowest of walks. Their heads droop, and the reins 
 hang loosely. Suddenly, as the suburbs are entered, 
 the reins are pulled taut, the drooping heads jerked 
 high in the air; there is a lash or two of the whip, 
 and in an instant the whole concern is tearing 
 through the streets like a crazy locomotive. Coming 
 out the thing is reversed. Away goes the vehicle 
 as if life or death depended upon short time and 
 long distance. It disappears in a cloud of dust 
 around the corner. If you walk leisurely after it, 
 you will be in ample time, a half hour after, to see 
 it crossing the prairie as unhurriedly as if drawn by 
 a snail. 
 
 Sometimes the old man drives, and sometimes the 
 young man. The rest of the road is, however inva- 
 riable. There are always the feminine head of the 
 family, a lady of about forty years; a young woman 
 of about seventeen, who jumps from the tall wagon 
 without assistance, and wears her back hair caught 
 up in a net; and a boy of about ten or twelve, who 
 attends to the wagon and looks sulkily at the town 
 boys. There is likewise a dog, which, if a young 
 dog, starts out for a social chat with his city 
 cousins, and very soon comes back, having been 
 badly thrashed by a bull-dog, half a dozen curs, and 
 a few terriers. If an old dog, he gets in the wagon, 
 and growls ferociously at the slightest approach to 
 familiarity on the part of town people. 
 
 Close traders are these farmers and their wives. 
 They bring in usually a pail of butter or a box of 
 eggs, and long is the battle for the highest buying 
 and lowest selling figure. The old lady looks at the 
 
240 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 cotton cloths and the jeans; and the young lady 
 prices the parasols, perfumery and back-combs. 
 Sagittarius saw one sharp-eyed matron follow the 
 clerk in his figuring up a bill of goods, and pour 
 hogsheads of wrath upon his devoted head because 
 he charged ten cents for a paper of pins, when 
 Jones, over the way, would sell her the same pins 
 for eight cents. 
 
 There was a grand excitement in Ramengo the 
 day before the arrival of Sagittarius. A bold thief 
 had broken into the single jeweler's shop in town, 
 and had carried off two silver watches. Daylight 
 revealed the theft, and dire was the confusion 
 throughout Ramengo. All the day long men gath- 
 ered in knots and discussed the event. The jeweler 
 was the hero of the day. Wherever he moved eager 
 crowds surrounded him, and heard with open ears 
 the recital of the dread event. Telegrams were sent 
 east and west, and towards night came the astound- 
 ing intelligence that the desperado had been cap- 
 tured at a neighboring town. All the place vibrated 
 to the intelligence, and by the next train the jeweler 
 started to secure his property and the thief. 
 
 Train after train came in from the east, and there 
 came no jeweler, no thief, no booty. The crowds 
 which attended each arrival of the train began to 
 become uneasy. By-and-by, like the first rumors of 
 a battle, there came whispers that the burglar had 
 escaped. The appalling suggestion grew each hour 
 more like a fact. Then it became a certainty; and, 
 after a while, the jeweler himself returned without 
 the thief. He had seen the thief; he had gotten one 
 of the watches and $50; but the murderous delin- 
 quent, entrusted to other hands, had mysteriously 
 disappeared. 
 
A Moral Country Place and its People. 241 
 
 Startling and tremendous was this intelligence to 
 Ramengo. Ramengo gathered in knots to talk the 
 affair over. Men hallooed questions across the 
 streets, or repeated some particular from their store 
 doors to the other men passing in wagons. Young 
 Ramengo discussed the affair with a large season- 
 ing of very pungent profanity. Those who heard 
 the particulars from the jeweler repeated them to 
 others, and they to still others; and so the news cir- 
 cled outward like waters receding from the buffet 
 of a stone. 
 
 Many were the theories as to the escape of the 
 culprit. Some fiercely held to one opinion, and 
 some to another. The favorite opinion was, that 
 the burglar was a Freemason, and that he had 
 escaped through the aid of the craft. This led to 
 hot discussions upon Morgan, and the enormity of a 
 concern which shields murderers, burglars, and 
 horse-thieves from the clutches of the law. The 
 Ramengoans have not traveled much. Most of 
 them have traveled from New England westward. 
 But few have ever traveled to the East. Hence, 
 many things. 
 
 Going to church on Sunday in the country, is an 
 institution. Early in the morning, two-horse wagons, 
 loaded down to the guards, begin to enter town. 
 These loads are not dissimilar. Three generations 
 are usually represented. There is the old gentle- 
 man, and sometimes his wife. His hair is gray and 
 thin; his form attenuated and bowed; his fingers 
 long, hooked, and skinny. Then there is the old 
 man's son. He is broad-shouldered, sun-browned, 
 and tough. Beside him, is his wife. She, too, is 
 brown; and her half-mits reveal strong, thick fingers. 
 There are also the oldest girl, and a smaller girl, and 
 
242 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 from two to five boys, with long, thick hair, brown 
 faces, and a general appearance of being a good deal 
 cramped in their Sunday clothes. The ancient looks 
 absent-minded, somewhat as if intelligence were 
 taking its insignia from his countenance, and leav- 
 ing in place of them a wrinkled expressionless piece of 
 sole-leather. The younger ones look rather defiant, 
 as if, in coming into town, they had gotten into a 
 hostile country and did not propose to be victimized 
 without a fight. The horses look sometimes as if 
 they had tried to get through a small hole, and had 
 only succeeded in pushing their viscera pretty well 
 back, where they had remained. They are small at 
 the neck, and grow constantly larger towards their 
 tails. A young colt or two usually trots alongside, 
 and appears sublimely unconscious of the future, 
 with its horse-collars, its plows, reapers, and long 
 journey 
 
 The church itself is not quite a cathedral. Coun- 
 try teams are fastened to all the neighboring fences, 
 and they have torn up the grass where they stamp 
 the tormenting flies. There is a back gallery where 
 the singers set, and in their midst is an asthmatic, 
 but ambitious, little melodeon. There are always a 
 pretty girl or two in the choir, and a rather romantic- 
 looking young man who sings tenor. Somehow, 
 ladies have a weakness for tenor-singers. The 
 tenor knows it, and he affects melancholy and a thril- 
 ling tendency to early decay. 
 
 Sagittarius attended one of the churches in Ra- 
 mengo. He found the same audience collected 
 there that he had seen when he was a boy and went 
 to church. There was the same anxious mother, 
 dividing her time between the sermon and little boy 
 who would get up and lie down, and who wanted 
 
A Moral Country Place and its People. 243 
 
 cake, and who ocasionally got on his knees and 
 stared vigorously and persistently into the face of the 
 young women behind. The same dog came up the 
 aisle, looking into all the seats for its owner, and, 
 by its puzzled expression, afforded cause for much 
 suppressed chuckling to the small-sized boys. The 
 same old gentleman sat on the same front seat, and 
 stared with dropped jaw, and wiped his rheumy old 
 eyes with the same old, striped-silk pocket-handker- 
 chief. The same farmer sat in the same seat, and 
 slept all through the sermon, and woke up and 
 looked around at the end, just as if he had only been 
 thinking deeply with his eyes shut. The choir sang 
 the same old tunes; the preacher presented the same 
 old doctrinal points; and the same old crowd of 
 rustic boors and dandies stood just outside the door, 
 and stared into the faces of the people as they went 
 out. 
 
 Ramengo has its romance. Some places have one 
 thing, and some another; but Ramengo has its crazy 
 man. The crazy man lurks about the outskirts of 
 the town, and sleeps in the cornfields. When the 
 men go away from their houses, then the crazy man 
 suddenly presents himself before the terrified women, 
 and demands food. The crazy man is quite a young 
 man; and it is reported and believed among the 
 younger women of Ramengo that it is a case of love. 
 Once the crazy man loved a young woman. Obdur- 
 ate she, either from a prior attachment, cruel parents, 
 or some other cause, frowned upon his passion. He 
 pined; then he wilted; then he went crazy, and 
 than he wandered away and came to Ramengo. 
 Such is the feminine explanation of the enigma of 
 the crazy man. It is a characteristic rendering of 
 the mystery. 
 
244 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 The crazy man meanwhile looks as if craziness 
 and lodging in cornfields do not agree with him. 
 His hair and beard are matted, and his hat and coat 
 in tatters. He is saving of his pantaloons, and 
 usually carries them hung over his arm like a towel. 
 The effect is peculiar — a good deal more peculiar, in 
 fact, than modest. 
 
 It would take too long to recount all that Sagit- 
 tarius saw and did in Ramengo. He sat whole days 
 in a store door, and stared at the milliners over the 
 way, and at the boys who originated dog-fights in 
 the street. One day he took his carpet-sack, put 
 himself upon the train, and came away 
 
BICYCULAR AFFECTION. 
 
 SAD history came to my notice, one day 
 , last week, when walking around Chicago. 
 ^^ It involves the happiness of two young per- 
 sons. It is the saddest of those sad occur- 
 rences in which the human heart is involved, 
 and in which it is the principal actor as well as 
 the grandest sufferer. 
 
 There is a young gentleman of attractive appear- 
 ance, excellent education, and fine financial pros- 
 pects, who lives with his parents in a pleasant brick 
 dwelling on the avenue. 
 
 A year ago this young gentleman commenced 
 paying his addresses to the youngest daughter of 
 one of our most prosperous commission merchants, 
 who is a resident of a princely dwelling on the ave- 
 nue. The young lady is a superb blonde, with clus- 
 tering curls, a petite form, and a lithe figure. She 
 moves with that easy, undulating grace which is 
 best described by the word " willowy "—that infinite 
 flexibility whose motion is never angular, or dis- 
 turbed, or interrupted. Her fingers possess that ex- 
 quisite contour which is equally removed from 
 emaciated slenderness and muscular plumpness. 
 
 Charmingly developed in disposition, carefully 
 cultivated in intellect, she unites in body, soul, and 
 heart, that peculiar poise which is only found in 
 characters that approximate closely to equable and 
 
246 Army and Other Sketches, 
 
 perfect development. Just passed nineteen, at the 
 time my narrative commences, she was at the pre- 
 cise age when the germs of youth had unfolded into 
 fresh and fragrant blossoms. 
 
 He possessed all her delicacy of soul with a vigor- 
 ous, masculine organization, in which he presented 
 that most perfect of manly characters — one in which 
 the refinement peculiar to a woman is hardened and 
 intensified in a man, until he becomes a power, a 
 support, and yet characterized by infinite delicacy. 
 An organization of the kind is one like what a rose 
 would be could it be hardened till it possessed the 
 tenacity of steel, without losing any of its flexi- 
 bility, fragrance, and delicacy. 
 
 His person was tall and perfectly erect; his 
 shoulders broad, and the beginning of a pyramid 
 which narrowed regularly to his heels. His eyes 
 were a full, deep brown, and his hair heavy, and 
 just a shade relieved from raven blackness. 
 
 The course of true love did, at first, run smoothly. 
 Of the proper age, of excellent prospects, of perfect 
 health, they constituted a pair that seemed as ex- 
 pressly created for each other as the bud and its sup- 
 porting branch. Their affection was profound, with- 
 out degenerating into maudlin sentimentality. 
 Founded upon mutual respect,it bade fair never to be- 
 come weakened by a familiarity which can only re- 
 sult in satiety, and possibly, disgust. They seemed 
 to be possessed of that rare faculty among lovers, that 
 of keeping in exact equipoise an ardent love and 
 a profound respect. It is rare, indeed, that one of 
 these qualities does not give way to the other, in 
 which case the result is the inevitable destruction of 
 both. 
 
Bicycular Affection. 247 
 
 Three months ago, the acquaintanceship, which had 
 long since ripened into affection, resulted in an en- 
 gagement. The marriage was fixed for the first of 
 May. And then began, on the part of both, those 
 preparations, so full of pleasure, for the coming sac- 
 rifice at the altar. 
 
 It was two weeks before the glorious May-day 
 upon which was to occur the consummation of these 
 intermingling loves. 
 
 About this period, he called one evening at the 
 residence of his fiancee. When he arrived, he sat in 
 the parlor until she should make her appearance. 
 Upon this evening, he waited with a warm and yet 
 controlled impatience for her coming. The few 
 minutes that usually elapsed between his arrival 
 and her presence passed, and she came not. His 
 anticipations began to grow into anxiety, and then 
 — she came. 
 
 He started from his seat as the door opened, with 
 eagerly outstretched arms, and lips fixed for the cus- 
 tomary kiss. 
 
 " My darling," he began, and then stopped sud- 
 denly, frozen in speech and motion into rigidity. 
 
 Instead of her usually springy step to meet him, 
 she entered with a slow and measured walk. In 
 place of glowing with expectancy, her face was 
 characterized by a gloomy resolution. 
 
 She stopped in front of him as he stood like a 
 marble statue of disappointed expectancy. Her 
 eyes full of sadness and reproach, were turned 
 sternly upon his face. 
 
 And thus, for a moment or two, they stood con- 
 fronting each other like two statues of Strength and 
 Beauty, 
 
248 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 " Well, sir!" at length came from her lips, in slow, 
 cold, and measured tones. 
 
 The words seemed an icy missile that pierced his 
 heart. His form relaxed, the fine tension of his 
 pose gave way, his strength seemed to have sud- 
 denly left him. 
 
 " Well, sir!" he repeated, mechanically. "Good 
 heavens! she says ' Well, sir!' " continued he, as if 
 communing with himself. He gazed at her feebly 
 for a moment, and then staggered to, and sank 
 upon, a sofa. 
 
 She moved to an arm-chair and seated herself in 
 it with deliberation. She was now several feet from 
 the sofa, and yet close enough to converse with 
 ease. 
 
 The young man struggled with the vast emotions 
 that enveloped him. A little later, and he emerged 
 from himself, and a reaction began to bring strength 
 to his relaxed features and a steady light to his eye. 
 
 "You said 'Well, sir,'" began he, with some 
 firmness, "and, in reply, permit me to observe, 
 Well, miss!" 
 
 She gazed at him unflinchingly and unmovingly. 
 He continued. 
 
 * " It is strange language for me to use, but there 
 seems nothing else that applies to this singular meet- 
 ing. Perhaps you will save me from a further use 
 of it by giving me an explanation?" 
 
 " Sir," said she. " I have no explanation to offer." 
 
 '"No explanation!' Am I mad? Is this all a 
 dream? Do I meet you with every line off affection 
 effaced from your face, with your mouth dropping 
 icicles, and hear only that there is no explanation?" 
 
 She gave no answer. He waited a moment, and 
 resumed, with a slight accent of indignation: 
 
Bicycular Affection. 249 
 
 "You have no explanation, then, for this cold- 
 ness? Perhaps none is due me. Perhaps I have no 
 right. It may be that the belief on my part that 
 you were soon to become my wife is a fancy, a 
 dream?" 
 
 "It is," she said, simply. 
 
 " Heavens ! Are you insane? " 
 
 "Not in the least, sir." 
 
 " Tell me, then, what all this means ! I will know 
 if I have to tear it from your false heart ! " and 
 he arose to his feet and stood towering and mad- 
 dened above her. 
 
 She regarded him quietly. " No violence or 
 heroics," she said, calmly, "are of use, or will 
 avail. If you have ever believed that an engage- 
 ment existed between yourself and me " — she did 
 not say us — " you will regard it as a dream or a fic- 
 tion." 
 
 " Do you mean this? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "And I can have no explanation? " 
 
 " None from me." 
 
 "Then go to" — he began, savagely; but the ruf- 
 fianism of the moment died away as soon as it 
 came, and he added, "Good evening;" and without 
 another word, he strode from the room. 
 
 "One moment," she called. "Take these;" and 
 she put into his hands a weighty package. 
 
 And then he passed into the street, and, a little 
 later, he sat in his own room. Before him, on a 
 table, lay the contents of the package she had given 
 him. 
 
 They were his presents ! 
 
 With his elbow on the table, and both hands 
 clutched savagely into his hair, and supporting his 
 
250 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 head, he gazed, with bloodshot eyes, upon the costly 
 trinkets spread before him. 
 
 There was a tiny ring of brilliants. It recalled a 
 glorious moonlight night of warm September. A 
 bracelet brought up one summer evening, when his 
 soul was thrilled with the first kiss. 
 
 And thus each article suggested some sunny scene, 
 some exquisite enjoyment. He groaned as if his 
 soul was struggling for an exit. 
 
 Suddenly his eye caught a tiny envelope. He 
 seized it. It was sealed, and without direction. 
 He tore it open. A printed piece of paper, evi- 
 dently cut from a newspaper, was within, a,nd fas- 
 tened to a sheet of note paper. Over it was written, 
 in a well-known handwriting, the single word, 
 "Read." With a painfully- throbbing heart, he pe- 
 rused the following: 
 
 " Competent medical authorities have decided that serious 
 results are caused by riding the velocipede. Among these, not 
 the least is the giving to Malthusian doctrines a practical and 
 eminently undesired effect. 
 
 And this was all. To-day, that young man saunt- 
 ers listlessly about the streets of Chicago, a broken- 
 hearted being. Once a skillful velocipedist, he now 
 shuns the rinks, as a freed sinner would a return to 
 purgatory. Gone are his ambition, his hope, his 
 love. 
 
ALL ABOUT A WOMAN. 
 
 T the battle of Shiloh, one of the regiments 
 that was well out to the front was the 
 Eleventh Iowa. Its colonel was William 
 Hall. A lady was with him who was his wife. 
 When Beauregard made his march on the 
 Federals, on that morning, he omitted to send 
 word of his coming. Inconsequence, his unexpect- 
 ed arrival produced some surprise, not to say confu- 
 sion. Many of our people had not yet risen, and, 
 like well-bred gentlemen, they say that their des- 
 habille was unfitted for the reception of the French- 
 man. Therefore, many of them hastily fled, to 
 make their toilets. A good many did not make 
 them in time to return on that day to the front. 
 
 I will not say that Colonel Hall was quite as un- 
 prepared as this. Nevertheless, pretty much the 
 first intimation which the colonel and lady received 
 of a confederate visit was a twelve-pound shell that 
 came crashing through their tent. And then the 
 colonel hastily dressed himself, buckled on his sabre 
 and went out. Mrs. Hall proceeded to finish her 
 toilet. Meanwhile, shell and round shot tore through 
 her canvas boudoir, as if to suggest a hasty depart- 
 ure of its occupant. 
 
 But she carefully arrayed herself all the same. 
 Back hair and front hair were elaborately arranged 
 as usual. Cuffs and collars were duly pinned. Then 
 
252 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 a few articles of dress were hunted for and packed 
 up. After which she went out, with her package, 
 to the rear of her tent, saddled a pony, mounted it, 
 and rode slowly to the rear. 
 
 All this time the air above and around was riven 
 with fierce-speeding missiles, and red with the flame 
 of bursting shells. She moved calmly through the 
 deafening and blasting tempest, till she reached the 
 protecting banks of the Tennessee. 
 
 That evening her needle and thread came into use 
 for purposes of repair. Her dress was cut in some 
 twenty-nine different places by bullets and frag- 
 ments of shell. 
 
 At Iuka, Mrs. Hall once more ran the gauntlet of 
 rebel bullets; and again, although her dress was 
 pierced in a score of places, she coolly moved un- 
 harmed through the deadly storm. On the long 
 march around Yicksburg I again met her. She rode 
 beneath the broiling sun, along the interminable 
 bayous, as uncomplainingly as if on a visit to a 
 neighbor. She was in the trenches at Vicksburg, 
 and remained there until the strong city had sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 The next spring, stricken down by a chronic dis- 
 ease, her husband went home to Davenport, Iowa, 
 and she as faithfully accompanied him as she had 
 during the long months that separated Shiloh from 
 Vicksburg. 
 
 For months her husband was an invalid. After a 
 while he grew better, and then some unexpected 
 turn of the disease occurred, and he died. The 
 widow, after settling up her estate, found herself 
 possessed of one charming little daughter, and no 
 means whatever. With this capital she came, in 
 1865, or 1866, to Chicago, and took up her residence 
 
All About a Woman. 253 
 
 with some relatives. Now commenced the real 
 battle of life. 
 
 Her papers, duly made out and sent to the pension 
 office, were returned with the information that there 
 was no proof in them that her husband died of a 
 disease contracted in the army. She sent them to 
 her legal agent, who consumed six months in find- 
 ing out that he — did not know what to do. 
 
 Meanwhile, the lady brought no end of pressure 
 upon Gilmore, and, in time — say six months later — 
 was rewarded by a subordinate position in the 
 Chicago postoffice. And then she gave her atten- 
 tion to getting her pension. 
 
 Her agent had given up the thing in disgust. He 
 could not produce the proof required by the pension 
 department. He so advised her, and told her that 
 hope of government aid was useless. Under the 
 circumstances most women would have yielded the 
 struggle. She resolved to fight the thing out. 
 
 She occupied nearly a year in trying to find the 
 address of the division surgeon.* Letters were sent 
 everywhere. Some of them, in time, came back 
 from the dead-letter office. Others gave her assur- 
 ances that the surgeon was dead, or in New Mexico, 
 in California, or that it was not known where he 
 was. Still, she followed up the trail, but was ever 
 baffled. Time and again did she travel from Chicago 
 to various portions of the east and west, in the hope 
 that some army surgeon could give her the required 
 proof. She took statements which were sent on to 
 Washington with new papers, but always the inex- 
 orable official returned them with the indorsement 
 that there was not sufficient proof that the cause of 
 death was acquired in the army. 
 
254 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 During the intervals of hunting up testimony, she 
 opened up a correspondence with Iowa congressmen, 
 asking for a special act in her favor. This was in 
 1867. Plastic congressmen answered her that the 
 thing could be done, and should be done. 
 
 As is customary, they promised and — did nothing. 
 She waited a year on these promises, and then went 
 to Washington. She got Grant's indorsement of 
 her petition for a special act. Sherman signed it, 
 and so did many another dignitary of the army of 
 Tennessee. Leaving them in the hands of Congress- 
 man Price, she returned to Chicago. 
 ' The petition went before the committee and was 
 defeated. She was so advised, and was told that 
 nothing more could be done. Here was another ex- 
 cellent point to give up at. But she didn't. She 
 continued the fight. 
 
 Once more she commenced corresponding with 
 and visiting different places. She got up another 
 series of affidavits and papers — the fiftieth possibly, 
 in all — and sent them on to Congress asking a special 
 act. 
 
 In this way she fought on till March, 1869. 
 
 At this time, the health of some member of the 
 family gave way, and she accompanied him to some 
 country place near Pock Island. Just before leav- 
 ing Chicago, she was notified that her bill had 
 passed through the committee. This was cheering. 
 The next letter informed her that it had passed the 
 house, and concluded with the information that, as 
 it was so near the end of the session, it would not 
 be reached by the senate, and that it was very 
 doubtful, in case it could reach that body, that it 
 would pass. 
 
All About a Woman. 255 
 
 And so ended her hopes. She went into the coun- 
 try, wearied with her arduous struggle, but not dis- 
 mayed or defeated. During the intervals of waiting 
 upon her father, she planned a new campaign, and 
 sought for fresh evidence. 
 
 Thirty days passed without her hearing from any 
 one. Then there came along a neighbor who 
 brought a letter which he had accidently seen ad- 
 vertised in the Bock Island post-office. It was post- 
 marked at Washington, and read, in substance: 
 "Your bill was reached by the senate, and was 
 passed at almost the last moment. It has been duly 
 signed by the president," etc. 
 
 In the language of her sex, the young woman sat 
 down and "had a good cry." A day or two later 
 she got a draft for some sixty months' back pension, 
 at the rate of $30 per month. 
 
 If this sketch proves any thing, it is that Provi- 
 dence helps those who help themselves, even if they 
 are women. 
 
A RIDE TO DEATH. 
 
 ^OME years ago, I found myself a temporary 
 ^ resident of one of those bluff-cities lying 
 Pp?* some where on the Mississippi between its 
 source and the gulf. I had just left college, 
 and, with a sheepskin in my pocket, certifying 
 that I was duly exalted to the dignity of a B. A., 
 I started to the great west in search of what I 
 lacked most, viz. : fame and fortune. 
 
 It was at the time that the western fever was epi- 
 demic all over the eastern states. In every home in 
 the seaboard and middle states, somebody was 
 stricken with the malady. Generally the victim 
 was the scapegrace of the family. He was the rest- 
 less, uneasy member, to whom a future which prom- 
 ised only the dull routine of the past was a matter 
 of supreme disgust. 
 
 As a logical result, tne men who came west were 
 usually young, ambitious and daring. Timid souls 
 stayed at home. Only those who had the strength 
 to burst the shackles of fogyism, could escape the 
 weary imprisonment, which habit and custom had 
 imposed upon the residents of the older states. 
 
 It was some twelve years ago from the time I 
 write that I found myself west of the Mississippi. 
 The city where I first stopped on my journey was 
 supposed to be a sort of Gaditanum Fretum, at 
 
A Bide to Death. 257 
 
 which was the narrow strait which connected the 
 known with the unknown world. Passing through 
 it, one was supposed to embark on an ocean, in any 
 part of which he might discover fairy islands with- 
 out number. 
 
 The place was full of adventurers who had not yet 
 embarked. Either the winds were not fair, or there 
 was nothing about to sail, or they had no money to 
 pay the passage, or something. At any rate, in a 
 a week after I had reached the town I found myself 
 in company with several hundred young men, mainly 
 engaged in nothing in particular. Everybody was 
 running around frantically; everybody was fevered 
 and restless, and full of schemes and anticipation; 
 but the great number of the new-comers was not 
 doing anything else. In such a case when hope is 
 large and realization scanty, men very easily fall 
 into the habit of drinking. 
 
 When one is possessed with a grand vision, and 
 fails to see it become a reality, there is nothing that 
 will so effectually prevent the fading of this vision 
 as generous wine. It brings out colors which are 
 passing away; it restores fancies which are about to 
 elude the grasp. 
 
 Many of us, who had reared magnificent air- 
 castles, saw them gradually becoming effaced. 
 Dipping our brushes in the golden depths of the 
 wine-pot, we could repaint, re-decorate, restore these 
 vanishing creations. To be sure the restoration was 
 not lasting; each day the process required repetition, 
 and each time the labor was a greater one. 
 
 I succeeded in getting a room after some difficulty; 
 and then I had to share one already occupied by two 
 young men about my own age. Both, like myself, 
 had left the East to seek their fortune in the roseate 
 
258 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 West. They were named respectively Howe and 
 Brattles. Howe was from some where in New Eng- 
 land, and Brattles from New York. 
 
 We soon found that we stood upon common 
 ground. Howe and Brattles had been some months 
 waiting for something to turn up. Nothing had 
 turned up, except that the bills of the landlord came 
 with regularity; and the diet, discomfort, and crowd 
 each day turned up a little worse, if possible, than 
 they had on the day before. My two companions 
 mainly occupied themselves in "letting" themselves 
 "down" from an old drunk, or clambering vigor- 
 ously into a new one. I found them intelligent, 
 jovial and communicative. In a week, I shared all 
 their hopes and disappointments; and applied my- 
 self as vigorously as they to hunting comfort in an 
 inverted tumbler. 
 
 Howe was a singular sort of a character, He was 
 tall, straight, with a swarthy complexion, and 
 straight, black hair; and he possessed other points 
 which made him look not unlike one of Indian des- 
 cent. He may have had some aboriginal blood in 
 his veins; but of this I never knew. He was very 
 reticent about his family, and never alluded to any 
 of his relatives, save to sometimes intimate, in a 
 vague way, something about having left home on 
 account of trouble with his father. He had bursts 
 of loquacity in his reticence; but generally he con- 
 versed but little. When intoxicated, or partially so, 
 his whole nature changed. It was on such occasions 
 that I suspected his possessing an Indian origin. 
 Then his black eyes would blaze, and he would be- 
 come as restless as a wild beast. At a certain point 
 he would become utterly reckless, and was ready 
 for any act, regardless of its character or results. 
 
A Ride to Death. 259 
 
 Of Brattle's peculiarities it is not necessary to 
 speak, further than to say that he was somewhat 
 careless and thoughtless, easily influenced, and 
 ready at all times, without reflection, to follow in 
 any movement in which somebody else would take 
 the lead. In many respects, the same was true of 
 myself. I was rather indolent, and very glad to avail 
 myself of the ingenuity of others in the securing of 
 ways and means for amusement, and for passing the 
 time, which hung rather heavily upon our hands. I 
 mention these peculiarities of my two companions 
 and myself for reasons which will make themselves 
 apparent in time. 
 
 It was in the latter part of September that oc- 
 curred the incident which I am about to relate. 
 Howe was the first out of bed one morning, and, 
 going to the window, he threw open the blinds and 
 looked out. A gleam of sunshine lighted the room, 
 and the fresh morning air rushed in laden with in- 
 spiration. 
 
 "I say, fellows," said Howe, after taking in the 
 prospect for a few moments, " let's go into the coun- 
 try. It's a glorious morning; and I am getting tired 
 of this infernal city." 
 
 " I'm in," said Brattles. 
 
 "And I," said the remaining member of the trio. 
 
 " But where shall we go?" inquired Howe. 
 
 " Oh, anywhere," responded I; let us dine some- 
 where where there are no corner-lot speculators, no 
 invitations to a game of seven-up." 
 
 "That's it," chimed in Brattles; "we want to get 
 where we can cool the fever in our blood. Let us 
 get out where we can breathe and bathe in air that 
 has not been made red-hot by the curses of ruined 
 speculators," 
 
260 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 And much more to the same purport— the result 
 of which was that we swallowed a hasty breakfast, 
 and then went in a body to an adjacent livery 
 stable. 
 
 I had frequently engaged horses at this same 
 stable; and, having always brought everything back 
 in good order, the proprietor was willing to trust me 
 with his better class of animals. In response to our 
 request for a "rig," " Mack" informed us that he 
 had nothing available except a certain animal which 
 he did not like to let, as he was inclined to run away 
 unless closely watched. 
 
 We promised due diligence, and, after some hesi- 
 tation, " Mack " consented. On account of the 
 character of the horse, and because we were going 
 in the country, the vehicle selected for us was a 
 stout, square affair, somewhat like the ordinary ex- 
 press wagon. The horse was speedily harnessed, 
 and was driven out. He was a large, powerful 
 beast, jet black, and with a vicious eye, that blazed 
 like a live coal. When he was driven out by the 
 assistant, he came with a series of ugly lunges, and 
 two or three shakes of the head that were full of 
 mischievous promise. 
 
 " You want to watch that critter right close," said 
 " Mack," as we clambered in, and the boy held the 
 horse by the head with no small difficulty. "He's 
 uglier nor h— 11," continued "Mack," as I gathered 
 up the reins, "arid, if you ain't watchin' him, he'll 
 string you sure." 
 
 "All right," said I, " let him go, boy;" and away 
 we went over the cobble-stones of one of the main 
 streets, at a speed which, had we known any thing 
 of Dexter, would have reminded us of that renowned 
 animal. 
 
A Bide to Death. 261 
 
 Howe said he had forgotten something at the 
 hotel, and insisted that I should drive there for a 
 moment. I consented finally, and managed, not to 
 stop, but to lay " off and on," in front of the build- 
 ing during Howe's absence. He returned in a few 
 minutes with a box of cigars and something wrap- 
 peel up in a paper, and whose outlines were not un- 
 like those of a large bottle. He clambered into the 
 wagon with a good deal of difficulty, and, a moment 
 after, we were bowling along a straight street that 
 led direct into the country. 
 
 As I stated in the beginning of this narration, the 
 town at which I was located is built upon the bluffs 
 of the Mississippi. That is, a portion of the town 
 is on the bluffs; but the business portion, and, in 
 fact, the greater part of the place, lies on the bottom 
 between the foot of the bluffs and the river. The 
 bluffs are very lofty, rising at some points from 300 
 to 400 feet above the banks of the river. The action 
 of water, exerted for centuries, has cut deep ravines 
 down these heights, along which the inhabitants 
 have cut streets. Without these ravines, nothing 
 less than a ladder would serve one in getting from 
 the bottom to the heights of the bluffs. 
 
 Some of these ravine roads were finished, and 
 others were not. The main route to the country 
 was along " Julian avenue," as it was called, — the 
 broadest, least crooked and most finished of the 
 roads leading up the bluffs. The ravine up which it 
 ran had been blasted and wrought upon, until there 
 resulted a wide street, straight as an arrow, and 
 which rose from the " bottom" to the high country 
 lying back by a gradient of about thirty-five degrees. 
 Its surface was solid rock, and it was smooth as a 
 floor, save that here and there were little bits of 
 
262 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 rocks which had fallen from the walls of the street, 
 or had been washed into various positions by the 
 water which, after heavy rains, poured into the 
 avenue from lateral ravines. 
 
 In some places, high, smooth walls of rock, bear- 
 ing the mark of the drill, rise on both sides of the 
 street. In other places, the adjacent sides recede in 
 sloping amphitheatres, in which are residences. At 
 intervals, where the bluffs abut squarely on the 
 street, huge fragments of rocks have become de- 
 tached from these revetements; and they lie, here 
 singly, there in vast, misshapen piles which thrust 
 themselves well towards the centre of the thorough- 
 fare, and necessitate vehicles to make a slight de- 
 tour in passing them. 
 
 It was up this avenue that we directed our course, 
 and up which our horse, despite the ascent and the 
 heavy wagon, proceeded at a swift trot, which only 
 a tight rein prevented from becoming a gallop. 
 From the point where the avenue begins at the 
 " bottom" to the point where it issues upon the 
 highland beyond, is just about a mile. The place 
 where the ascent ends and the level road begins, is 
 as sharply defined as the ridge of a house. Going 
 into the city, one walks from the level road and 
 commences the descent at one step, as if he were to 
 step suddenly from a flat to a descending roof. 
 
 Notwithstanding the speed at which we ascended, 
 I noticed, in passing, several little groups and 
 events. At one brick house, a woman with a broom 
 stood at one of the windows. She had on a dark 
 calico dress, and one of her blonde locks had escaped 
 and hung down over her left shoulder. In a yard, 
 several children were playing, — one of whom, a 
 boy, was carrying a little girl pick-a-back. A cur 
 
A Bide to Death. 263 
 
 with immense splay feet chased a spaniel with long 
 ears, among the shrubbery. At another place were 
 two cows, one of which was grazing, and the other, 
 attracted by the noise of our vehicle, raised her 
 head and stared at us with wondering eyes. 
 
 We emerged into the open country; and, after pro- 
 ceeding a couple of miles, my arms became tired 
 holding the vicious beast which hauled us. Howe 
 proposed to turn off in a little grove by the roadside, 
 and tie the animal to a tree. We did so; and, a 
 little later, the horse was securely fastened, and we 
 were sunning ourselves in a grassy opening that 
 presented itself near the outskirts of the grove. 
 
 It is foreign to my purpose to relate the conversa- 
 tion and minutiae of our stay. Suffice it, that our 
 conversation took a wide range, and that it was 
 punctuated by frequent applications of the bottle 
 which had been secured by Howe. We retailed old 
 jokes, invented new ones, sang and became hilari- 
 ous. In the course of about three hours the bottle 
 was empty, and all of us had passed into that con- 
 dition in which recklessness was in the ascendancy. 
 A return to town, and " to make a night of it," were 
 proposed and carried unanimously. 
 
 We unhitched the horse, and, getting in with 
 much trouble, we started homewards. Howe in- 
 sisted on driving, and I consented. Annoyed by 
 the flies, which had been tormenting him all day, 
 and knowing himself to be going towards home, the 
 horse was more headstrong than usual, and tore 
 along at a pace which only the efforts of two of us 
 at the reins could prevent from setting into a run. 
 We all three sat upon the seat, Howe in the middle. 
 
 I noticed that Howe was more intoxicated than 
 either Brattles or myself. His cheeks were flushed, 
 
264 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 and his black eyes shone with a fierce, unnatural 
 fire. His jaws were set, and his breathing was 
 short and accompanied with a noise like that of 
 snoring. The excitement of the drive had deepened, 
 instead of lessened, intoxication. 
 
 " Steady, old fellow," said I, as, emerging from a 
 a strip of "timber/' we found ourselves only a few 
 rods from where began the descent of Julian ave- 
 nue. " Steady, now! We are getting into town." 
 
 "All right," said he, and with a powerful effort he 
 reined the horse into a walk. The animal shook his 
 head madly and tugged fiercely at the bit. A mo- 
 ment after we reached the descent, and the long 
 declivity of the avenue came into view. At the very 
 instant that we gained the point where the avenue 
 "breaks" down from the level and commences to 
 descend, the horse gave a wild plunge. The next 
 instant, Howe rose suddenly to his feet. With his 
 left hand he threw the lines over the horse's head, 
 and with his right he brought down the heavy 
 whip with tremendous force upon the animal's back, 
 exclaiming, with a voice that rose almost to a 
 shriek: 
 
 " You want to go ! Then go ! G — d d — n you ! " 
 
 I had just sufficient time to see the brute leap with 
 a maddened bound into what seemed space, when I 
 found myself thrown over the seat into the box 
 behind with stunning violence. Brattles fell beside 
 me, and Howe came heavily, and with an unfinished 
 yell on his lips, upon both of us. 
 
 What followed was like a dream, whose images 
 stand out prominently, but which lacks continuity. I. 
 remember falling, but I do not remember how I re- 
 covered myself. After the fall, the next thing which 
 I recollect is, that I was sitting on the bottom of the 
 
A Bide to Death. 265 
 
 wagon, holding to the railing; that Brattles had dis- 
 appeared; and that Howe was partly on one knee, 
 just before me, clinging to the edge of the box, bare- 
 headed, rocking furiously, and giving utterance to 
 maniacal yells of exultation. 
 
 The stroke of the whip, the blasphemous impreca- 
 tion of Howe, the bound of the horse, the fall, the 
 recovery, — all seem to have occurred instantane- 
 ously. Time seems to have been obliterated. I 
 recollect these events, and they all appear as if they 
 took place at the same time. 
 
 After the lapse of the moment of unconsciousness 
 that must have occurred immediately at the time I 
 was thrown backward, and the instant that I par- 
 tially sat upright, I seemed at once endowed with a 
 sort of tripartite consciousness. Three distinct sets 
 of thoughts seemed to possess me, each of which 
 apparently pursued an independent process. These 
 three processes seemed respectively to take in sim- 
 ultaneously the past, present and future. 
 
 In the present, I saw exactly and comprehended 
 our situation. I saw the black devil in front, with 
 flying mane, plunging madly down the avenue. I 
 saw Howe distinctly, and was conscious of his exact 
 expression. I felt the wagon, not running appar- 
 ently on the ground, but only touching it at intervals, 
 and then springing forward as if it were progressing 
 by great leaps. A black wall was on either side of 
 me, which seemed composed of long, horizontal 
 layers of darkness, that were rushing backward with 
 the speed of lightning; but even in this, as in a pool 
 of ink, I saw houses and fences, and recognized the 
 outlines of jutting rocks. 
 
 Such are the outlines of what may be called the 
 present of the three processes which possessed me 
 
%66 Army and Other Stories. 
 
 It was clear and distinct, but none the less so than 
 the second process, and which related to the future. 
 This portion of the triune existence thus suddenly 
 thrust upon me related chiefly to what might hap- 
 pen. I saw, as if clairvoyantly, what lay before us. 
 I could see that we would reach a pile of rock; that 
 the wheel would pass over it, and we be dashed from 
 the overtuned wagon against the wall below. 
 
 All this time the third process seemed in opera- 
 tion. This busily wove into a ragged woof, events 
 of the past. They were not the more important oc- 
 currences of my life that were thus, as it were, 
 knotted together. This third faculty may be better 
 compared to a species of divergent light, like that 
 shot from the great lamp of a locomotive. Some 
 such species of illumination appeared to be thrown 
 into the past. In the midst of the vista which it 
 clove in the darkness, I could discover events in 
 my life as if they had been paintings or statuary 
 flashed upon by a light. 
 
 As I have said, I neither saw the grander occur- 
 rences of my life, nor was there any regular pro- 
 gress, like a review. The divergent light flashed 
 upon something away back in my childhood, and 
 immediately after upon something which occurred 
 that morning. Thus, I saw myself walking with a 
 younger brother. He could just barely walk, and I 
 saw myself holding his hand, and recognized that, 
 he wore a frock, and a hood which was fastened to 
 his head with a silk handkerchief that was knotted 
 under his chin. I saw this picture as through' a 
 lighted tube, in a dense wall of darkness that seemed 
 the past. The very next thing that the light revealed 
 to me was the woman with the broom, and the dark 
 dress, and the straggling lock of hair, whom I had 
 
A Bide to Death. 267 
 
 noticed that morning at the window. There was no 
 method in its revelations. One moment, it threw 
 its long rays across a play-ground and a group of 
 school-boys, of whom I was one; and the next, there 
 were visible through the darkness the boy carrying 
 his little sister pick-a-back, and the splay-footed cur 
 chasing its long-eared companion among the trees. 
 
 It appeared to be that I knew I would be killed. 
 Death was present; and, although without form it 
 was as if I could feel it in a sort of shadowy some- 
 thing that seemed to be gradually gathering about, 
 and constricting the motion of my heart. Despite 
 this, I was not alarmed at the apparent certainty of 
 death. I had no particular recollection of the good 
 or evil of my life. There was rather a triviality 
 that attended this certainty of death. I wondered 
 what the woman in the window would think could 
 she see us; and whether the little boy would not 
 drop his sister in pitying horror could he appreciate 
 our situation. I seemed to strive to guess what my 
 mother would say when she heard the news; and 
 perhaps the same attempt occurred with reference 
 to a dozen other people. But all this time I realized 
 nothing — I never even thought of futurity. Heaven 
 or hell came no more to my mind than if I had never 
 heard of their existence. 
 
 One sensation that I recall was, that I seemed 
 gradually being swallowed up in darkness. It was 
 not a thick darkness; but rather I seemed enveloped 
 by a medium which was possessed of fluidity and 
 transparency, but which was gradually growing 
 darker. I could appreciate that this medium would 
 eventually become black, and this seemed the meas- 
 ure of my life. My thoughts and existence would 
 
£68 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 accompany its changes; and, when the full black 
 was reached, my life would be gone. This ultimate 
 and approaching blackness seemed pure non-exist- 
 ence, into which I should finally be merged. 
 
 The portion of the trinity which possessed me, 
 and which related to the present, was, as I have 
 already intimated, of surprising clearness. It 
 seemed a sort of independent consciousness, and oc- 
 cupied itself with immediate surroundings and cir- 
 cumstances. It revealed the horse, perfectly out- 
 lined, and appearing like a mass of black launched 
 in space. I saw distinctly the large, loose sleeves of 
 Howe's coat, and his hair fluttering in the wind with 
 the rapidity of lightning. I saw the long perspec- 
 tive of the avenue, with its ascending and descend- 
 ing vehicles and pedestrians. In the background 
 lay the Mississippi; and I caught the reflection of a 
 fleecy cloud in its depths; and, just coming around 
 a point above, I saw a steamboat, and read without 
 difficulty the name upon its wheel-house. I even 
 noticed a little group of passengers upon the hurri- 
 cane deck; and I observed that a furnace door was 
 open, and that a fireman was pushing something in 
 the red, cavernous depths. 
 
 Exactly opposite, on the sidewalk, was a woman 
 holding a little girl by the hand. The latter tugged 
 at the hand with the other, as if urging her forward; 
 the mother, with an expression of horror upon her 
 face, stood like a frozen statue. Just below, was a 
 farmer driving an empty hay-wagon. He had risen 
 to his feet, and was lashing his horses to get them 
 out of our way. I even noticed that his horses were 
 ordinary farm-horses, and that one of them, catching 
 sight of us, had arched his neck and thrown forward 
 its ears with an appearance of fright. I could see 
 
A Ride to Death. 269 
 
 pedestrians all along the street. Some of those 
 nearest us had caught sight of us, and had stopped; 
 but nearly all were ascending or descending, as if 
 unconscious of the imminence of any thing uncom- 
 mon. 
 
 The wagon seemed possessed of volition and inde- 
 pendent motion. It leaped, bounded, rather than 
 rolled. It seemed to vault into space. When it 
 descended, a sensation possessed me exactly as if I 
 had suddenly been deprived of gravity. It seemed 
 as if a spider-thread would have held me suspended 
 in the air at the moment when the vehicle com- 
 menced to descend. I felt as if the placing of my 
 open hands on the air would buoy me up, and allow 
 the descending vehicle to pass from under me. It 
 was, I fancy, a feeling akin to the sensation expe- 
 rienced by a sea-sick person at the moment when 
 the vessel drops from a great height into the trough 
 of the waves. 
 
 I have spoken of a sort of atmosphere which 
 enveloped me, and which seemed to grow gradually 
 darker. It would be more correct to say that I felt 
 as if I was in the centre of an immense sphere, 
 which, near me, was a sort of twilight, but whose 
 exterior was utter darkness. This exterior seemed 
 rushing to the common centre formed by me. As I 
 have said, I felt that, when this darkness reached 
 me, I should be dead. The motion inward of the 
 circumference of the sphere was felt by me some- 
 what in the form of an apprehension. 
 
 Suddenly, and with inconceivable velocity, the 
 coming darkness dashed, as it were, upon me, and 
 enshrouded me. I remember no more. My last 
 remembrance is, that the thick shadows seemed in- 
 terspered with a million auroral colors and corrus- 
 
270 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 cations; and that there shivered through me with 
 infinite rapidity the conviction, This is death! 
 
 It was days before I returned to consciousnessness, 
 weeks before my recovery was deemed probable, 
 and months before I was able to hobble from my 
 room. 
 
 Brattles had partly fallen and partly thrown him- 
 self from the wagon when Howe struck the horse; and 
 he escaped with a few severe contusions. About two- 
 thirds of the way down the avenue, exactly where 
 a pile of fallen rocks rendered a slight detour neces- 
 sary, the wheel of the wagon on one side struck the 
 debris; and the next second the vehicle, as if shot 
 from a gun, was dashed against the face of the op- 
 posite wall. A shapeless, bloody mass of flesh re- 
 mained, and the horse, with some remnants of the 
 wagon, continued his flight. 
 
 A strange fact remains to be related with reference 
 to myself. It is, that I was thrown from the vehicle 
 within two seconds from the time that Howe's whip 
 fell upon the body of the maddened horse. Accord- 
 ing to the testimony of the woman with the little 
 girl, at the second or third bound of the wagon it 
 alighted upon its side wheels, and tipped sufficiently 
 to throw me out, but righted again, owing to 
 a change of position by Howe. The point where I 
 was picked up was about sixty feet farther down 
 the hill than where Brattles was found; and the dif- 
 ference in our positions demonstrates that, at the 
 probable rate of the speed of the horse, I was thrown 
 out within one second after Brattles. 
 
 It was during this single second that occurred all 
 that I have related with reference to my thoughts 
 and observations. Not only that which I have de- 
 tailed took place, but there were a thousand other 
 
A Ride to Death. 271 
 
 things — shadows of thoughts, glimpses of material 
 objects, attenuated memories— which passed through 
 my mind like a swift but disconnected panorama. 
 Eeflection induces the conclusion that I did not 
 really possess at the moment three independent 
 operations of the mental faculties. Of course, such 
 a thing is impossible. The probable explanation is, 
 that the units, in each of these processes, while in 
 reality separate, presented themselves with such 
 enormous rapidity that they seemed a united whole, 
 like the swiftly revolving spokes of a wheel. 
 
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I 
 HAVE KNOWN. 
 
 |TN its recognition of notable women, the 
 world is often led to base its judgment, and 
 to confer fame, rather upon the showy than 
 the truly substantial qualities. It is a melan- 
 choly truth that Aspasia, Ninon de FEnclos, and 
 Catherine de Medici stand out more prominently 
 in this world's recollection than many another 
 woman whose life has been characterized by virtues 
 as the careers of those noted women were by their 
 crimes. 
 
 Valliere and the Countess of Blessington are in a 
 fair way to attain immortality. Possibly they will 
 live long after Florence Nightingale and other quiet 
 heroines have been forgotten. I confess to a hearty 
 dislike of these results; and, so far as I can, I will 
 afford compensation to a neglected heroism. If I 
 can not confer the immortality which has been at- 
 tained by a bad woman like Madame de Maintenon, 
 I can, at least, rescue temporarily from oblivion one 
 woman, whose case impressed me more than any 
 similar thing in my experience. 
 
 In attempting this work, I hope for success with- 
 out wounding the delicacy of her who is the subject 
 of the task, or of those by whom she is surrounded. 
 Not long since, while in search of health and rec- 
 
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE KNOWN. 
 
The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 273 
 
 reation, I spent some weeks in Essex, Vermont, 
 which lies among the rugged hills that terminate the 
 western slope of the Green mountains. It is a ster- 
 ile, and yet hospitable region. There is something 
 massive and enduring in the character of the resi- 
 dents, which has been borrowed from the everlast- 
 ing rocks and mountains. 
 
 Among these people, each day I became infused 
 with an increasing vigor, which seemed to be com- 
 municated by contact with the rocky surface, as one 
 tcvkes electricity from a battery. 
 
 During my wanderings, I heard much of an inva- 
 lid whose sufferings and patience were themes 
 which, from long use, had almost grown into tradi- 
 tions. Confined to her room by an incurable and 
 frightful malady, she was loved, honored, pitied 
 by all who spoke of her; and I was assured that not 
 to visit her would be to deprive myself of a rare fel- 
 icity. 
 
 I plead that, being a stranger, my presence could 
 but be regarded as an intrusion. In truth, my real 
 reason was, that I did not wish to shock the pro- 
 gress of my returning health with what I conceived 
 would be the distressing vision of a sick room, with 
 its array of medical paraphernalia, and its emanci- 
 pated occupant. 
 
 Yielding finally to solicitations which became 
 pressing, I consented to make the required visit. 
 
 For a distance of several miles, our conveyance 
 threaded the narrow ravines, and climbed and de- 
 scended the precipitous hills, along which twists 
 the road that leads to the town of Westford. Away 
 to the right against the sky, was traced the waver- 
 ing line that marked the ridges of the Green Moun- 
 tains. Between these peaks and our road, there 
 
274 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 descended a cataract-like mass of rock and wood- 
 land, over all of which there rested a semi-diaphan- 
 ous mist of softest blue. Along our left, ran a chain 
 of massive hills — rent, here and there, into fissures 
 whose depths grew dim and shadowy; and clad to 
 the summit with stunted vegetation— among which, 
 now and then, there appeared the gorgeous tints of 
 autumn. 
 
 Climbing a hill the road passed across a .narrow 
 valley. On the one side, low ledges of rocks walled 
 the road; on the other, there was a semi-circular 
 clearing, upon which stood a plain white farm- 
 building, 'with its outhouses and a garden. A few 
 sheep, with corrugated fleeces were clustered in the 
 shadow of the roadside-fence; and some cows dotted 
 the further side of the opening, where it sloped up 
 the hills. 
 
 Here resided Farmer Lawrence; and within was 
 the invalid to visit whose shrine our pilgrimage was 
 made. 
 
 The mother — a kindly-faced woman, with a sub- 
 stantial form — and two sisters — gray-eyed and sad- 
 visaged — received us. The father — a medium-sized 
 gentleman, with benevolent face, and somewhat 
 English style of countenance, in its squareness 
 and coloring — soon after came in and joined the 
 group. 
 
 Greetings, and the hundreds of little questions so 
 inseparable from meeting, were tinctured with a 
 genial warmth, on the part of the family, that seem- 
 ed to flow from natures that radiated kindliness as 
 naturally as the sun gives off its beneficent heat. 
 
 In a little while, we crossed the central hall, and 
 entered the room of the remaining daughter. 
 
The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 275 
 
 It was a roomy parlor, with a south and east front. 
 It was a balmy afternoon, and white curtains, of 
 exquisite cleanliness, rustled with a cool, tremulous 
 motion, in and out the open windows. Upon a 
 table, in front of one of the windows, was a variety 
 of beautiful flowers, whose variegated petals and 
 green leaves moved gently and harmoniously under 
 the touch of the fugitive airs that passed into the 
 room and out, in invisible procession. The western 
 sun threw, through a window, a broad, golden band 
 of light, which was shattered at intervals by the 
 restless curtain. A few prints on the wall, a sofa, 
 a table with some books, completed the outfit of the 
 apartment. 
 
 In the window was suspended a shallow basket 
 containing crumbs. To and from this, darted wild 
 birds, with many a chirp and whistle of joy. 
 
 My eye took in these particulars the instant I en- 
 tered the room. I hesitated, with a singular appre- 
 hension of approaching distress, from first looking 
 at that which was the real object of our journey. 
 There was an introduction, and I could no longer 
 hesitate. There was something in the corner, 
 which, in my instinctive avoidance of a direct 
 glance in that direction, seemed an indistinguish- 
 able mass of snowy white. My name was ut- 
 tered and I turned my glance upon this corner, 
 which, for a single second or two, I had endeavored 
 not to see. 
 
 As I looked, the hitherto shapeless mass of white 
 resolved itself into a cot covered with a snowy 
 counterpane. Beneath this white covering were the 
 undulating outlines of a woman, who lay with the 
 covering thrown back so as to reveal her face, bust, 
 and arms. 
 
276 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 As my eye reached the face, a thrill of surprise, 
 and then of admiration, pervaded me. 
 
 It was not the emaciated countenance of an inva- 
 lid; but the full, rose-tinted, glorious face of a re- 
 cumbent Venus ! 
 
 To describe this face is a labor at which I hesi- 
 tate, as might one who was about to convey in words 
 the ideas which would inspire him as he recalled 
 Guido's sublimely sad face of Beatrice Cenci. The 
 cheeks had none of that pallor characteristic of long 
 suffering. There was a groundwork of perfect 
 purity, with just a hint of transparence; and over 
 which there lay a flush such as comes from the finer 
 ripening processes of the sun. Her hands were 
 small, with long, slender, shapely fingers. Her clean- 
 cut lips revealed rows of even, pearly teeth. Her 
 face was of the purest oval, and back from her 
 forehead lay heavy masses of brown hair, that 
 darkened, or became flecked with golden tints, as 
 the uneasy curtains shut off or admitted the brilliant 
 sunlight. Her eyes, filled often with a tender 
 solemnity, seemed, under the semi-shadow of her 
 forehead, to be a dreamy, bluish-gray, that lightened 
 with humor, or grew dark and humid under the in- 
 fluence of pathetic emotion. 
 
 And yet this young woman, — this girl, — with 
 the dreamy eyes, and a sad Smile hovering about 
 her lips,- — had for fourteen years been a helpless, 
 broken victim of disease. She who thus lay upon 
 her right side; who looked, at times, with a girlish- 
 matronly glance, toward the flowers, her only chil- 
 dren; who seemed like a young beauty fresh from 
 conquests and successes, had lain in her present po- 
 sition, perfectly immovable save as to arms, shoul- 
 ders, and head, for the best portion of these fourteen 
 
The Most Beautiful Woman, Etc. 277 
 
 years. All these weary years, bound like Prome- 
 theus to his rock, she has suffered, at intervals, in- 
 describable agonies. Her slender frame, filled with 
 a horrible strength, has been so torn and convulsed 
 that the combined efforts of three strong men have 
 been found no more than sufficient to restrain her 
 till the crisis has passed. 
 
 Doomed each day to be stretched for a time upon 
 a rack, compared to which that of the Inquisition 
 was merciful, how is it that she has developed these 
 graces, and that there envelopes her features a 
 serenity that has the brightness of a saintly halo ? 
 I know not, unless it be from a knowledge that pass- 
 eth the understanding of us who dwell out in the 
 great world. 
 
 She possesses intelligence that in no sense does in- 
 justice to her appearance. She conversed cheer- 
 fully upon ordinary topics; and was humorous, 
 pathetic, or serious, as the theme demanded. She 
 uttered no word of complaint that she was doomed 
 to a living death, nor has one passed her lips during 
 the long years of intense suffering that have rolled 
 over her with their unvarying absence of relief, or 
 even of mitigation. 
 
 This Hattie Lawrence; this dead-alive young 
 saint; this woman who shall never know mother- 
 hood, save such as is given her in her flowers and 
 birds; this woman whose beauty bewilders; whose 
 patience and serenity amaze me; who is imprisoned 
 forever from the bright world, with its wifehood 
 and its enjoyments; and who knows life only as 
 men near to, and yet out of sight of, the ocean, hear 
 the dashing of the surf, and the thunder of the 
 waves, — this uncomplaining, hopeful, immovable 
 victim is to me the embodiment of a thousand times 
 
278 Army and Other Sketches. 
 
 more heroism than is any other woman whom his- 
 tory has embalmed for immortality. She is one who, 
 better than even the original, fills the graceful pic- 
 ture of Mademoiselle de Villene, of whom it was 
 said: 
 
 " Son esprit tout divin repond a son beau corps, 
 Le ciel en la faisant epuisa ses tresors." 
 
 Such of us who toil and sorrow, and who find life 
 wearisome and a pain, should look for a few mo- 
 ments upon the sunny face, and into the tender, 
 hopeful eyes of this gallant soul, whose sufferings 
 and whose beauty I have so imperfectly delineated. 
 In so doing, we should find that there is no agony 
 so severe, no endeavor so arduous, no grief so inter- 
 mittent and poignant, that it may not be endured, 
 Until its chastening result is an adornment.