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LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS
O F
YANKEE HILL:
TOGETHER WIrTH
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS
OF
HIS TRAVELS.
EDITED BY
DoI. W. K. NORTHALL.
N E W-Y 0 R K,
PUBLISHED FOR MBS. CORDELIA HILL,
BY W. F. BURGESS, 22 ANN STREET.
1850.




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850,
BY CORDELIA  HILL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the
Northern District of New York.




IN TRODUC TION.
IT is to be regretted some means cannot be
(i scovered whereby the impression which the
player makes by his acting could be Daguerreotyed, so that his pictures may be handed
(down to posterity, that those who follow after
us may know  what manner of man he was.
The immortality which crowns the labors of
the painter in a great measure depends upon
the durability of the material he employs in his
art.  If the splendid conceptions of Raphael
had faded from  the canvass upon which they
were realized, as speedily as those of the Actor
fade from the public memory when lie is no
longer able to make them  palpable, the Player's
art would not suffer, as it does now, from corn3




1V                  I NTRODUCTION.
parison with that of the Painter.  It requires
as high a degree of intellect to embody a living
representation of character on the stage as it
does to impress it on canvass, and the Painter
hias only the advantage of being able to render
that lasting which is evanescent and short-lived
with the Player.
No matter what command of language the
B),iographer of an eminent Actor may possess,
vwhat skill lie may employ in the detail and
mlanaelement of his subject, it is utterly impossible for him, in language, to convey a full
and nice appreciation of those fine qualities of
ills genius which  spoke from  the eye, were
felt in the tones of the voice, and gave meaning to the very slightest action of the body.
Ili writing the Biography of Mr. HILL, whose
fime as a  delineator of  a  peculiar class of
character is co-extensive with the land that
oave him  birth, I cannot but feel all the difficulties and  embarrassments which  arise from
a want of means, as well as  power  to  do
justice to his character as an  actor, and  if it




INTRODUCTION.                   V
were not that I am addressing thousands who
have seen him, and whose memories will sapply  that which  language  cannot  convey, I
shokuld  feel almost disposed  to  abandon  the
task I have assumed, in despair.  It is a common error with a certain class of people, to
suppose that a man who devotes his time aid
life to the amusement of the public, has no
higher claims to the respect of the community
than  those whlich  might be preferred  by the
dancing monkey.  I have yet to learn  however, that the wit which can make the judicious smile, is less a spark of heavenly fire than
the pathos which can make the tender weep.
If people are easier made to laugh than cry,
it is rather a strong motive for believing that
God designed that mirth should be the rule and
weeping the exception; and he, in my opinion,
who devotes his life to humanize the over longdrawn solemn face, people a desert of wrinkles
with cheerful spirits, and relieve the lachrymal
gland from an eternal flow of tears, thus saving
a thousand cheerful impulses from a watery




VI               INTRODUCTION.
grave, lives to accomplish a noble purpose, and
should command  admiration in his vocation,
rather than  the obloquy too frequently bestowed upon his efforts.  The man who goes
about  continually  moaning  and  groaning,
stereotyping his face into a fixed misery, is a
fool to himself and an ingrate to  his God.
The birds are cheerful at all times, in season,
the flowers are decked in the gayest colors,
and is man, made in the image of his God,
to go sneaking through the world as though
he had no business in it, and as though he must
make himself miserable in order to be happy?
The Actor's art has higher aims and nobler
purposes than  the Aminadab  Sleeks of the
-day are willing to award it; and the time, I
trust, is not far distant when the stage, purified
from the adventitious evils which have grown
around it, will justify itself, and take its proper
place among the highest and surest means of
reforming  and  elevating  society.   I  have
spoken thus freely, because I have undertaken
the biography of Mr. HILL, " with a will,




INTRODUCTION.              Vii
and I would have those whom I shall address,
believe that I would not have undertaken the
editing of a mere jest book, for neither humor
nor wit have any dignity, in my mind, unless
they are employed to effect some good object
or illustrate a valued truth.  It is the conviction that Mr. HILL accomplished a useful and
honorable destiny, which makes me feel desirous to be, in part, the means of preserving
as far as possible the memory of the man and
his deeds.








BIOGRAPHICAL, SKETCH.
GEORGE HANDEL HILL was born in the city of Boston,
in the year 1809. His father, Uri K. Hill, enjoyed some
reputation in the musical world. The late Samuel Woodworth, the well-known  author of the   "Moss-covered
Bucket," in a brief sketch which he left of the early career
of his friend, Mr. Hill, humorously supposes that the reverence in which the father held the memory of the great
composer, was the cause of George having a Handel to his
name.
At an early age, he was placed in the Taunton Academy, it being ultimately intended that he should enter the
Harvard University, to become fitted for the practice of
whichever of the learned professions his taste might select.
Alas! as Burns says, " the best laid schemes are mice,
and we oft gang aglee," and ere even all the honors of
the Taunton Academy had crowned the labors of our
hero, a seed, sown no one knows how, had begun to germinate in his mind, which soon grew up a shrub of vigorous promise.
Young Hill had a keen appreciation of the humorous
and ridiculous, and being gifted with unasual powers of
imitation, soon made himself notorious among his school1 *




10           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
mates as a fellow " of infinite jest," whom to see in his merry
moments, was to them " as good as a play."
The admiration which his juvenile efforts elicted from
his school-fellows, made him ambitious to improve his
abilities, and perhaps at this time he imbibed the first
desire to gain a larger stage for the exhibition of his
comic talents. Study, to a boy of his mercurial temperament and humorous disposition, was, as can easily be
imagined, at best but dull work. His parents, of course,
were grieved that the Taunton Academy had so little fascination for him, or that Harvard University in perspective,
could not win from him a more sturdy application to severe
study.  The vis comica was in him, and neither the hopes
of collegiate honors, nor the parental frowns, could drive
this supposed enemy from the strong hold it had upon his
mind.
At the age of 15 he gave up his studies, and, without
the consent of those who had a right to control his actions
at that age, repaired to New York, to seek his fortune.
If boys could only look beyond the romance which youthful imagination  raises between their present and their
future, and see the struggles and difficulties which beset
unaided merit, no matter how great, I fancy there are few
of them  would turn a deaf ear to parental warning, or
leave a cheerful fire-side for the certain miseries of a too
early entrance upon the stage of life. Parents, on the
other hand, should be very careful how they render the
homes of their children unattractive, by a too severe bending of natural impulses to supposed duties.  No impulse
which leads a child to an honest pursuit, however different
from the one selected or desired, should be inconsiderately
checked, particularly where the impulse is accompanied




YANKEE HILL.                     I1
with unmistakeable evidence of genius.  Many a youth,
who has abandoned his home for the pursuits of a theatrical career, and has afterwards been left a floating atom on
the sea of life, driven to and fro, without guide or compass,
by every fitful wind that blew, would, under a more
kindly guidance, have become, not only a brilliant ornament in the profession of his adoption, but what is better,
would have been as respectable in moral conduct, as
admirable in dramatic ability.  Luckily for our young
adventurer, his love of the Drama was subordinate to the
lessons of morality he had been taught at home, and
whilst his heart was in the Theatre, he never forgot his
accountability to society for his bearing and conduct.  On
his arrival at New  York he sought employment, and
found it at a jeweler's store in Chatham street, where he
was engaged as a clerk.  He was, at this time, but 15
years of age.
In selecting a place in Chatham street, he had, doubtless, his eye to a Theatrical neighborhood, for the store in
which he was engaged was next door, or near Barrere's
Garden, a famous place of amusement in those days. It is
not very wonderful that, with the strong predilections
which he had for the stage, he should have a congenial
admiration for the Players.  He soon contrived to form
an acquaintance with some of the Actors engaged in the
neighboring establishment.  This led to an introduction
behind the scenes.  The gates of his paradise being thus
open to his entr&e, he soon became desirous of being something more than a mere looker on;-he was anxious to
hold a closer communion  with the kings, dukes, and
princes which nightly assembled.  But the aforesaid dignitaries, however familiar in their lucid  intervals, could not




12            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
allow a suldden and too familiar approach, and young Hill,
with all ihis earnest lono'iny, and vaulting ambition, had to
learn, that the way to a throne or principality is beset
with thorns and difficulties: hut he had " that within that
passeth show," and he submitted with a good grace to the
necessity of beginning at the beginning, feeling confident
that at no remote period, he would rule where he was now
serving.
His first appearance on the stage was in a Roman mob,
whose duty it was to throw up greasy caps to Coriolanus,
and shout when the prompter gave the cue.  He was an
Actor now, and although he played  no very important
part in the Drama, there is but little doubt he thought his
shout was a little the loudest, the strongest, and the most
Roman of them  all.  After a while, he was, as a favor,
entrusted to deliver short messages upon the stage.  In
this rather difficult duty he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of all concerned.
Young Hill now formed an unalterable determination to
adopt the stage as his profession.  It does not appear that
he had determined upon any particular walk of the Drama,
or had even asked himself the question what was the line
of business for which he was best fitted.  The Yankee
character, in the delineation of which he afterwards became
so famous, had never been presented on the stage with any
success, and of course, adopting the Yankee as his starting
point never occurred to him.  (Mr. Hackett had not yet
made his appearance, nor did he, until 1826, one year after
Mr. Hill had made the Yankee peculiarly his own.)
In the year 1825, Woodworth's pastoral Opera of the
Forest Rose was produced; the part of "Jonathan," the
Yankee, wast entuusted to Alexander Simpson.  Allhoughl




YANKEIE HIILL.                    13
the chiracter of " Jonathan" is a mere sketch, Mr. Simpson
managed to make it a very amusing part to the audience,
who nightly thronged to  witness the production  of a
native author.  The effect produced upon young Hill was
such, as at once determined him to make the Yankee character his study.  The success which afterwards crowned
liis efforts showed how well he had judged his own capabilities.  His mind decided upon the particular path he
should travel on the road to fame and fortune; he desired
nothing so much as an opportunity of appearing in lsis
favorite character. Whilst at the Chatham Street Theatre,
engaged in the way we have already noticed, he was introduced to a country manager, who readily engaged him  for
the low comedian of his company, which was about to
make a theatrical tour through  the western part of the
State of New York.  I believe during this engagement he
had no opportunity of appearing in his favorite character,
the Yankee,-yet the arrangement was full of satisfaction,
for he not only acquired confidence and experience, but
gl'eat popularity; he became a favorite wherever he appeared. Mr. Hill's comedy consisted, as he himself afterwards expressed it, in grimacing,-or, technically, mu;gmtking.  During this engagement, he met, at Stafford,
with the " Methodical Audience," whose serious character
he used to represent so inimitably in his entertainments.
The good people of Stafford, it appears, had been unused
to theatrical representations,-the company, of which Mr.
Hill was then a member, being the first dramatic corps
which had ever appeared among them.  On the opening
nl;ht of the Theatre, alias ball-room, the tragedy of Willii;'n Tell was played, to be succeeded by the farce of the
Lady and the Devil."  When the audience assenmbltd,




14           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
the women were found seated on one side of the room, and
the men on the other, exactly as they had been accustomed
at church.  During the performance of the tragedy, the
most solemn stillness was observed: not a hand rewarding
the poor Actor for his exertions. No one but the player
can tell the dull, hard labor of performing a long, heavy
part, unrelieved by the inspiring influence of a round of
applause. Even the ceremony of hoisting the star-spangled
banner above the pole upon which Gezlar's cap was placed,
failed to excite any palpable emotion. The audience were
evidently on their best behavior.  The curtain went down
upon the tragedy like a pall.  Mr Hill was cast for the
low comedy part in the farce, and although he was somewhat disheartened by the cold character of the audience
before which he was about to appear, he determined to
exert himself to the utmost to break the ice which seemed
to encase each individual present. Mr. Hill made more
grimaces on this occasion than he ever employed before or
afterwards, and did more illegitimate things than ever
actor dreamed of, to make his audience laugh, but it was of
no avail, they were immoveable. After the performance,
Mr. Hill retired to the public room of the hotel in which he
boarded, wearied with his efforts, and mortified with his
want of success.  He had scarcely seated himself, when he
was accosted by a tall, raw-boned countryman.
"Lewk here, mister."
"Well, sir?"
I've been in to see the play to-night."
"Have you, indeed? " said Mr. Hill, "you must have
been highly entertained."' I swow, I guess I was. I tell you what it is, now;
my mouth won't be straight for the next month, straining




YANKEE HILL.                     15
to keep from larfing.  If it hadn't a been far the women, I
should a snorted right out in the meetin'."
Mr. Hill was, of course, gratified to find that the solemn
behavior of the audience was in obedience to their conventional notions of public conduct, instead of the want of
comic merit in his efforts.
Before he had completed his engagement, he met with
an accident at Batavia which confined him to his bed for
some weeks; and I believe for several months disabled
him from performing.  He met with the greatest kindness
from the hospitable people of that town, which he publicly
acknowledged by the following address, delivered at the entertainment he gave on his first appearance in public after
the accident:
ADDRESS, SPOKEN ON TUESDAY, MARCH 4th, 1828.
"I bow before you now, not in the comic character
which on former occasions has gained your applause and
approbation.  There are times of "scrrow as well as gaiety.
The sombre spectres and scenes of death, cannot be always
before our eyes, and some light joys must be an antidote to
those bitter sorrows we are doomed to suffer.  The days
of prosperity last not forever; thorns spring upon our
pathway that impede our passage. The patronage bestowed upon me in Batavia, and the compliments received shall
never be forgotton: this place and these friends shall live
in my remembrance whilst the pulsations of the heart beat
with all the tenderness of feeling. Honorable exertion in
any profession must command the approbation of every
hono able mind.  By an untoward misfortune I suffer not
alone. I have not merely had pains of body and agony of




15            LIFE ANi) IECOLL, ECTIONS OF
mind proceeding from the calamities which so often embitter our paths on the journey of life, but I am a child, with
filial tenderness, bound to protect a mother.  In this my
native country, where the child of sorrow is never left without pity and sympathy, it has been my pride to appear before you with the tender of my services.  Of past kindness
I am neither thankless nor neglectful, and the meed of your
praise, whilst by your rewards bestowed on my labors, I
am enabled to support life, animates me to more vigorous
exertions in the discharge of my duties.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, self-praise is no  commendation, nor is it a claim which the humble aspirant after fame
should  arrogate unless it is bestowed. To please and
amuse you, I have done and shall do the best in my humble capacity, and with the full flow of a grateful heart
offer you my best wishes."
It may be as well to state here that the first entertainment which Mr. Hill gave alone, d la Mathews, was in the
city of Brooklyn, in the year 1826.  The Star, of that
period, then under the editorial conduct of Col. Alden
Spooner, speaks flatteringly of the young aspirant for (ramatic fame, and intimates that at no distant period Mr.
Hill will occupy a distinguished place in the Theatrical
world.
In the year 1828, Mr. Hill temporarily eschewed "single
entertainments,' and engaged himself in company for life,
with one who faithfully followed his footsteps through all
his fortunes to the closing, sad last scene of life.  He married Miss Thompson, of Le Roy, an amiable and accomplished young lady, whose parents exacted, as a condition,
that he should leave the stage.  It is no slight evidence of




YANKEE HILL.                     17
the strength of his attachment, that he complied with terms
which to all appearance were to crush the earnest longings
of his heart, and shut out forever from his sight the brilliant future his warm imagination had painted for his own.
He commenced business, but, as may readily be supposed, without success. His heart was not in it. The dull
monotony of a store-keeper's life did not suit him; and
after making a short and feeble effort to mercantile his
mind, he gave up the struggle and made an engagement
with the manager of the Albany Theatre.  Mrs. Hill, like
a sensible and affectionate woman, did not reproach him
with a violation of the condition which her friends made at
her marriage, but appreciating the desires and ambition of
her husband, and like him, confident in his ability to
achieve  both fame  and  fortune, she, as  every  good
wife would do, encouraged and aided him  in his efforts.
That he felt grateful for the sacrifice which she made for
his sake, is evinced by the affectionate character of his
communications with her.  His letters to her when away,
even up to the time when the sickness seized him which
ended his career, breathe warm affection in every line.  But
of this I shall have to speak in another part of his Life.
Mr. Hill's success at Albany, was as eminent as his warmest
friends could  have wished.  He was accounted by the
critics of that city, one of the most promising young comedians of the day.  After leaving Albany, he paid a short
visit to Buffalo, and delivered on several occasions, with
profit and success, the same entertainment I have stated he
gave in Batavia after his accident.  He then, with his
young wife, returned to New York, and played a short engagement at Peale's Museum.  During this visit, he appeared for one evening at Blanchard's Amphitheatre, now




13            LIFE AND IECOLLECTIONS OF
the Richmond, and told the following story in his inimitable
style:
" Darn my buttons, if I didn't once court a gal by the
name of Suky Snow: any on ye hearn tell of Suky?  I
was detarmined to go and ask her if she'd have me. When
I got there, the cat was playin' round the room, and I
trod on her tail-I didn't mean tew though-she squalled
eout, and Suke jumped up as mad as blazes and threw her
out doors.  I felt kinder sorry for the cat,'cause you
know any cat will squall if you tread on her tail.  I sot
down by the winder, and, thinks I-I'll say something
now  anyhow: says I, Suke, it looks rather green outside reound  here: yes says she, and it looks rather
green inside tew.  Says I, Suke, there's the meetin'
house; yes, said she, and there goes the Deacon. Jest as
I was goin' to ask her if she would be my lawful wedded
wife, her ugly old aunt came to the door, and I run and
held it on t'other side; she couldn't git in, and I couldn't
git eout; finally I made a bolt for the winder, and out I
went into the old woman's soft soap tub; as I was crawling
eout, one feller said'Jest coming down?' No, you tarnal
fool, I'm jest comin' up.  You needn't larf none on yeI didn't lose nothin' by it, for I got'my clothes washed
for half price,'caus they was already soaped.' "
He was next engaged to go South by Mr. Falkener, the
Manager of the Charleston Theatre.  He played both at
Charleston and Savannah, gaining an increasing popularity
at every appearance.  His star was rapidly rising, and he
received the offer of a profitable engagement from Jones,
Duffy & Forrest, managers of the Arch Street Theatre of
Philadelphia. This engagement forms an important era in
the life of Mr. Hill, for it was during the season he played




YANKEE HILL.                    19
here that he made his first appearance in' the Yankee character.  His success was such as to place him at once on
a level with the best comedians of the day, and far above
any as a truthful representative of the genuine down
easter.  Mr. Hill's Yankee was the " real critter."  It was
not, as are almost all the representations of other actors I have
seen, a mixture of Western, Southern and Eastern peculiarities of manner and dialect, but the unalloyed, unadulterated down-easter. fMr. Hill did not merely imitate their
tone, dialect and manner, but felt and thought like them.  It
was this faculty, to use a hackneyed phrase, of throwing
himself, body and spirit, into a part, which gave to his
Yankee a richness and truthfulness not approached by any
actor before or since his time. He did not merely put on
a flaxen wig, a long-tailed coat, a short vest, a bell-crowned
hat, and straps to his pantaloons long enough for suspenders, nor thus attired did he content himself by imitating
the peculiar drawl and queer expressions of the Yankee,
for the veriest bungler on earth can do all this, but the spirit of Yankeedom pervaded every action of his body, peeped from his expressive eyes with such sly meaning, that it
was difficult for the time being, not to believe it was a mistake in the bills, when they announced Mr. Hill as Major
Wheeler, instead  of announcing  the  veritable  Major
Wheeler himself. Jonathan, in Woodworth's pastoral opera
of the Forest Rose, was the part he selected for his debut
in the Yankee character on the occasion referred to.
In the year 1832, he made his first starring engagement
at Baltimore with eminent success. In the fall of the same
year, he made his debut before a Boston audience. On returning to New York, he was engaged by Mr. Simpson,
manager of the Park Theatre.  The Park Theatre at that




20            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIrONS OF
time was to the other cities of the Union, what Covent
Garden or Drury Lane Theatres are to the provincial establishments of England, the goal to which all dramatic adventurers aspired.  To be engaged on starring terms at the
Park, was the actors ultima thule, so far as this country
was concerned.  It is deeply to be regretted, that there is
not in New York some establishment bearing the same salutary influence upon the profession, as that which emanated from the Park in its palmy days.  There was a power
behind the scenes of the Park, which had to be severely
satisfied, before the dramatic aspirant could tread the
stage; a power above the whims of misdirected  public
sympathy, and beyond the reach of a merely manufactured
popularity; in short, the Park was the head and brains of
the American stage.  The Yankee character had been introduced as yet in but very few pieces, and Mr. Hill found
it necessary to increase his stock of plays.  With this view,
he offered a prize of four hundred dollars for the best
piece adapted to his peculiar style of character. A committee, composed of the  following gentlemen-Messrs.
Verplanck, Webb, King, and Washington Irving, were chosen
to judge of the merits of pieces sent in.  Quite a large
number of authors competed for the prize, but of all received, the committee did not think one fairly entitled to
it.  Mr. Hill was, however, much in need of novelty,
and at his'solicitation alone the prize was awarded to
Samuel Woodworth, for a drama, entitled "The Foundling of the Sea."  It was produced at the Park on the third
engagement of Mr. Hill at that theatre, but was coldly
received, and after the third night was withdrawn.
I must now  return to Mr. Hill's first engagement with
Mr. Simpson. His success was most triumphant, and offers




YANKEE HILL.                    21
came flowing in from every part of the country.  He went
next to Philadelphia to play a starring engagement.  Mr.
Hill's rise in his profession, was deservedly rapid.  The
public, with a ready appreciation not often awarded, were
quick to see the merits of the young comedian, and willing
to reward with a generous patronage, the deserts it prided
itself in discovering. He now played a brilliant star engagement at Philadelphia, in the same theatre in which,
but a few months previously, he had been struggling with
an inconsiderable salary of ten dollars a week.
Mr. Hill spent a summer in the Eastern States, for the
purpose of studying the Yankee character, and picking up
such peculiarities of dialect and expression as he could,
from constant communication with the "critters" themselves. In Boston, he was thus invited by a countryman
to visit the town in which he lived.
"Wal, Mister Hill, can't you come down our way and
give us a show?"
" Where do you live?" inquired Mr. Hill.
"Oh, abeout half way between this ere and sunrise."
Oh, yes," said Mr. Hill, adopting at once the style of
the countryman, "I know;-where the trees grow under
ground, and gals weigh two hundred pounds.  Where
some on'em are so fat they grease the cart wheels with
their shadow, and some on'em so thin, you are obliged to
look at'em twice afore you can see'em at all."
" Wal, I guess you've been there:" saying which, the
countryman departed.
When a bird flew to pick at a bunch of grapes an artist
had painted, it was esteemed the best compliment which
could have been paid to the painter.  Equally complimentary to the truthfulness of Mr. Hill's Yankee representa



22            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
ti.ons, was the flattering mistake related in the following
incident:Whilst on this visit to the East, Mr. Hill gave an entertainment in Bangor, State of Maine, assisted by the Boston
Brass Band.  The entertainment was called on the bill
" A Musical Olio."  In the course of the entertainment,
indeed, the first character he represented on this occasion,
was that of a country youth.  A countryman among the
audience would insist upon it that the character on the
st.ige was not Mr. Hill at all, but Seth Snow, a son of one
of his neighbors, nor could all the persuasions of those near
him  convince him  of his mistake.  As soon as the performance was over, he rushed into Mr. Hill's private room
and thus addressed him:"Wal, you are doing nice things down here, passing
yourself off for Mr. Hill.  What d'ye think the old man
would  say, if he should see you in them  play-acting
clothes.  Oh, you  may squirm  and twist your tarnal
mouth, just abeout as much as you please, but you can't
deceive me, so you had better own up.  Wal, this is a
tpl,'uy nice place; and what a mortal lot of purty picters
oauve got hanging round.  I suppose your getting all
fired proud, for you never had such a room tew hum."
Without noticing Mr. Hill further, he turned to look at
t!he pictures which hung around the room.  Mr. Hill took
advantage of the opportunity, whilst his visitor was thus
engaged, to pull off his coat and wig.  When the countryman had satisfied his curiosity sufficiently, he turned
round to speak to his neighbor's son, Seth Snow, when, to
his utter astonishment, a perfect stranger stood before him.
" Why  how-here! where is Seth Snow?"




YANKEE HILL.                  23
"I am the only person who has been in this room since
you were here," said Mr. Hill.
"Dew tell!"
"Fact, upon my honor."
"And you ain't Seth Snow?"
"No; my name is Hill."
"And you don't know Seth Snow?"
"Never had the honor of his acquaintance."
Well, I never; if I did, may I be darned. You! if it
was you, just now looked and talked jest like Seth Snow,
and now you are no more like him than you are like my
sister Sue. Wal, I never!"
During this dialogue the countryman was examining
Mr. Hill with wondering scrutiny, exclaiming every now
and then " Wal, I never."
"Look here, Mr. Hill, I hearn the hull of your talk
inside there, but I don't think much of that, cause I hears
that stuff every day, to hum,-and I've hearn the blowers,
(meaning the musicians,) but one part of the show you
ain't put out. No gouging, you know! I paid my money
and I want to see the hull."
" Beg your pardon, sir, but we have given the whole
entertainment."
" No, you ain't: do you see any thing green, eh?"
"I can't im gine to what you allude. I'm not aware
of any omission."'"Oh, come now, don't the bill say that you've got a
Olio? now I want to see the critter; I never heard of the
animal afore, and I'm death on critters. I thought maybe
you did not like to show the critter to the women, but I
want to see the Olio."




24           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
Mr. Hill, as may be imagined, laughed heartily at the
mistake of the countryman, who, when he was made to
understand the nature of the Olio, joined in the merriment,
shook hands at parting with Mr. Hill, and begged him, if he
ever came down his way, not to say anything about the Olio.
When we consider the years of toil and struggle which
marked the slow  progress of such a man as Edmund
Kean-how reluctant the public were to acknowledge this
transcendent genius-we cannot but be struck with the
good fortune which waited on Mr. Hill in his early career.
One thing, however, must be considered. Mr. Hill was
the first to leave his footsteps upon an untrodden path,
and, consequently, they could not be conpared to, or confounded with, the tracts of other men.  Mr. Kean was
travelling on a highway, over which thousands had passed,
and were still crowding on.  He had, by his energy and
genius, to clear the track, before the public eye could rest
singly on him, mark the loftiness of his gait, the gracefulness of his carriage, and the intellectual dignity of his whole
bearing. Mr. Hill was fortunate in being able to strike out
a new path to himself, and equally fortunate in possessing
the genius and talent to maintain its undivided possession.
In Cincinnati and Louisville, Mr. Hill played short engagements with credit to himself, and profit to the managements.  His company was much sought after, for his
amiable and gentlemanly manners, by the first class of
citizens, who retained their friendly and respectful regard
for him, to the close of his career.  His social feeling, his
extraordinary faculty of amusing, and his rich and varied
store of anecdote and incident, would have rendered any
m;m a desirable companion; but he had, beside all these,




YANKEE HILL.                    25
a sterling integrity of character, which made him as much
valued as a friend, as prized as a social companion.
His engagement at Louisville was a brilliant one: he
played to overflowing houses every night.  He was next
engaged at New Orleans.  He left Louisville on board a
steamboat commanded by Captain Gay.  One evening
when the steamboat had been detained an unusual time in
taking in wood, and the passengers assembled at the
supper-table, a very uncouth fellow was seen seated among
the ladies and gentlemen at the Captain's table.  The
Captain was too busily engaged with his duties to notice
the queer guest, who had already attracted the observation
of everybody else. His attention was purposely called to
the intruder by a gentleman, who seemed to know more
of the stranger than he dared to reveal. The uncouth appearance of the stranger, and a steamboat captain's stereotyped regard for his lady passengers, excited the indignation of the commander, and he told the waiter to order the
intruder from the table.
"Stranger," says the waiter, " you must vamose from
here."
" Dew tell," said he, eating most voraciously all the
time.
" Stranger!" exclaimed the waiter.
"Wal, dew let a feller eat his supper," and another leg
of broiled chicken was dispatched.
"You must leave the table."
"Why, how you talk 1" and again was he at work upon
the eatables.
"Captain," said the waiter, "the stranger won't stir."
"He won't stir, eh?" said the Captain, in a rage.  " I'll
soon see whether I am to be insulted at my own table;"
2)




26            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
and with that the irrate Captain sprang from his seat, and
seizing the uninvited guest by the collar of his coat,
dragged him  from the table.  The greatest uproar prevailed among the passengers: some were for aiding the
Captain, whilst others, seeing no cause of offence, except
the mere fact of a stranger —whom, they supposed, had
got on board at the last wooding-obtruding his presence
in the wrong place, entreated that he might be permitted
to remain. To the latter suggestion the Captain was deaf.
There could not be two masters to the same boat, and the
Captain, considering he had a prior claim, was proceeding,
by a sort of a posteriori argument, to assert his rights:
when the stranger, not relishing the idea of being kicked
out, took off his wig, and displayed to the astonished
Captain and his passengers, the familiar countenance of a
friend and fellow-traveller, Yankee Hill. The mirth that
followed was a sufficient reward to Mr. Hill for the risks
he ran.  Captain Gay was not a little mortified at being
so completely "taken in and done for" by a man whose
face was almost as familiar to him as his own.  It was
suggested by some of the passengers who had begged
that the stranger might be left alone, that the Captain
should be court-martialed, for attempting to push out of
the cabin one of his most respectable passengers.
The idea was very suggestive of fun, and all agreed that
a court-martial was a very respectable and useful institution. I do not think it was exactly in order to appoint one
of the interested party to preside as judge upon this occasion, but, be that as it may, Mr. Hill was immediately
elected to that office. Captain Gay was tried, found guilty,
and  condemned to be shot, or, rather, to pay the shot
for the amount of oysters, champagne, and other fixings,




YANKEE HILL.                   27
which strict justice deemed necessary to meet the offence
he had committed.  And so terminated the suit of Jedediah Homebred vs. Captain Gay.
Mr. Hill's success in the Crescent City was as triumphant as it could well be. He made many valuable friends
during this visit. Among those who took him by the
hand were Col. Wade Hampton, of South Carolina, and
the late Col. Fitzsimmons of Augusta, Georgia.  These
very influential gentlemen entertained a warm and sincere
friendship for Mr. Hill, during his whole life.
In the month of April, 1834, he returned to New York,
occasionally playing in Philadelphia and Albany. In August he retired to Staten Island, and spent a month there,
in preparing the Knight of the Golden Fleece, which was
to be brought out at the Park in the September following.
While at Staten Island, Mr. Blake, late of the Broadway
Theatre, waited upon Mr. Hill, and so far won upon his
good nature, as to induce him to purchase a piece, called
"Major Jack Downing," for which he paid two hundred
and fifty dollars. I have reason to know that in this bargain Mr. Hill's judgment was not appealed to, but that his
good nature was, most imploringly; and as Mr. Hill's
whole career displays a similar yielding to the necessities
of others, it will surprise no one who knows the parties, that
he was beaten in the bargain. Major Jack Downing was
scarcely worth the value of the paper upon which it was
written. I cannot let this opportunity escape without paying a just tribute to Mr. Hill's liberality towards those who
wrote for him. Persons unacquainted with the greediness
and despicable meanness of mannagers generally, towards
authors, will ask, why I should pause to pay a special tribute of respect to Mr. Hill, for his liberality in this particu



28            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
lar, when it was so obviously his interest to encourage
these efforts in his favor.  I answer, by stating that it is
so unusual for actors or managers, despite their true interests, to display anything like a remunerative liberality
towards those who write for them, that it would be like
playing the tragedy of Hamlet, and leaving Hamlet's name
out by particular desire, to omit the mention of this uncommon quality in the subject of this biographical sketch.
I know but few managers in the United States who have
either the far-seeing wisdom, or the liberality, to induce the
dramatic mind of the country to exercise itself for the advancement either of their interests, or the interests of the
Stage. Gentlemen of education and refinement, accustomed
to the associations of polite life, will scarcely be induced to
try dramatic literature, where the pay is not only inconsiderable, but doubtful, and the certainty of arrogant assumption, from nine managers out of ten, beyond question.
The Knight of the Golden Fleece, which was prepared
during Mr. Hill's sojourn on Staten Island, was produced
at the Park in September, and owing principally to Mr.
Hill's admirable acting in the character of Si Saco, was
successful.  Mr. Hill finished his engagement with eclat.
He next played in Philadelphia and Pittsburg, then returned to New York, from which place he sailed with Captain
Pennoyer for Charleston.  He was received in that city
with great enthusiasm.  He next played a, short term in
New  Orleans.  When he was about leaving this city,
standing upon the Levee, waiting for his baggage, he was
thus addressed by a long lean down-easter.
"Say, yeou, which of these things slips up fust?"
"What?" said Mr. Hill.
"Which of these things slips up fust?"




YANKEE HILL.                    29
"Do you mean which steamboat goes up the  river
first?"
"Yes. I'll be darned if I don't."
"That one," said Mr. Hill, pointing to the nearest.
"I'm in an awful hurry to git eout of this.  It is so thundering hot, and I smell the yeller fever all reound."
This individual had a very intellectual forehead, measuring about an inch and a quarter in height, and punched in
at the sides to match.  His eyes were set deep in their
sockets, and something like a pig's, only the color was
not as good. His nose pushed boldly out, as it started
from the lower part of his forehead, as though it meant to
be something, but when it had reached half its destination,
it bent suddenly in like a parrot's beak. His upper lip was
long and thin, and was stretched on a sort of rack, which
was made by a couple of supernumerary teeth, which
stuck out very prominently. His chin, too modest to attempt a  rivalry with his projecting lip, receded backwards towards the throat, so that, to look at him in front,
you did not perceive that he had any chin at all.  His
hair was very light and bristly. A snuff-colored coat of
domestic manufacture adorned the upper part of his person. It was an ancient affair. The velvet was worn from
the collar in several places, but which was carefully
patched with red flannel, being the nearest approach to
the original color of the collar that could be found in his
domestic menagerie of reserved rags. The buttons, which
one would naturally look for at the bottom of the waist,
had wandered up between his shoulders.  The coat was
remarkably long, extending from high up on the shoulders
to the lower part of the calves of his legs. He was slightly round-shouldered, so that when he stood right up, a




30           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
small lady might have found shelter in a rain storm in the
vacancy left between the coat and the back.  His pants, to
common observers, would have been called too short, but
he denied this, averring that his legs were too long for his
trowsers. -On his arm hung an old-fashioned camblet cloak,
with the lining of green baize hanging about a quarter of a
yard below the edge of the camblet. He said this was no
fault of the lining, anyhow; "it got wet, and t'other
shrunk a leetle, but the lining stuck to it like blazes."
The Yankee was exceedingly anxious to secure his passage
by the first boat, and he sang out to some person, " Say,
yeou, where is the Captain of this consarn.  Say, yeou,
(to some one else,) I want the Captain. Look here, Nigger, show a feller the Captain. Look here, you black sarpint, don't stick out your lips at me. Wal, I swow, I'll give
anybody three cents that will show me the Captain."
The Captain, hearing the noise, stepped forward and told
the Yankee if he wished to see the Captain, he was commander of the boat.
" Dew tell?  Wal, I swan, you have got a kind of commanding way about you, that's a fact."
What do you wish?" said the Captain.
"Wal, I want a bathe."
"Very well, jump into the river, there is plenty of water."
" I tell you, I want a bathe."
"Well, don't I tell you to jump in, you can swim across
if you like; we shall not start just yet."
"I want a bathe to lie down in. Now  do you know
what I mean, darn you?"
"Oh, you want a berth?"
"Wal, darn you, didn't I say bathe?  I know what I'm
about, I guess."




YANKEE HILL.                   31
"I will accommodate you as far as I can," said the
Captain, " but I have nothing but a mattrass to offer, and
that is upon the cabin floor."
"Dew tell."
"It is the only one that is vacant, and the cabin floor is
covered with them, so you had better secure it at once."
" Wal, then, I guess I'd better turn right in."
I omitted to mention that he carried a valise in his
hand.  Some one rather impertinently asked him what he
had in it.
"Wal," said he, " I don't know that it's any of your
business, but I don't mind telling on you. There is two
shirts, one clean, t'other dirty; a pair of pants about as
good as new, only a leetle worn here and there, and a pair
of pistols. D'ye want I should take'em out and show you."
When he went down to turn in, he put the valise under
his head, wrapped his old cloak around him, and threw
himself, as he said, "into the arms of omnibus."  The
mattrasses on the other side of him, were occupied by
some rough Kentucky boatmen.  In the middle of the
night, these men got up and commenced playing cards.
No table being handy, they made use of the back of our
Yankee friend for one, and chalked the reckoning of the
game upon the camblet cloak, which surrounded the body
of the unconscious sleeper. They became interested in the
game, and began to lay down their cards with a might of
fist, and earnestness of manner, which soon roused up our
sleeping friend. He attempted to rise, but was held down
by one of the party, who exclained, " Lie still, stranger,
I've only got three to go, and I hold the Jack."
" Never mind, I'm a most smothered here, but go ahead,
darn you, play quick and I'll go you halves." He accord



32            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
ing lay still, until they had finished  their game, but
whether the Kentucky gambler divided his gains with his
table, was never satisfactorily ascertained.
Mr. Hill returned safely to New-York, and played another successful engagement at the Park.  He next went to
Philadelphia, and from thence to Buffalo, where he played
in the summer of 1836.  In the fall of this year he played
in Petersburgh, Philadelphia, and New-York, prior to his
departure for the South.  He was engaged at the magnificent St. Charles, in New-Orleans-Mr. Caldwell being
manager and proprietor-and he likewise was engaged by
old Sol Smith, for Mobile.
Mr. Hill sailed from  New-York on the 3d of January,
1837, in the ship "Mississippi," commanded by Captain
Robinson.  There were a number of passengers beside Mr.
Hill.  In two or three days, when the sea-sickness had
passed away, he began to exert himself to make the
time pass merrily along; and to any one acquainted with
his power of entertainment, I need scarcely say, how well
he succeeded.  The day before the ship arrived at NewOrleans, the passengers gave him  a supper on  board.
After supper the following song was sung by Mr. Hill, the
passengers taking up the chorus with a will:
Now, friends, the time is near at hand,
When we disperse this jovial hand;
But as the hour approaches near,
Let's still enjoy our Captain's cheer.
Where e'er again we meet, my boys,
We'll tell again our present joys:
The many jokes, the pleasing game,
The ladies, and the Captain's fame.
Cho.:rus: Where e'er again, &e.




YANKEE HILL.                      33
When first we left the Eastern shore,
The rough, wide ocean to explore,
Our hearts beat high with hope and fears,
The eyes we left afloat in tears;
How soon the change with us appeared,
When free from sickness all was rearedOur natural mirth was in a glow,
The juice of grape did freely flow.
How soon, &c.
Fill your glasses to the brim,
This drinking wine is not a sin;
God bless you all, on sea or shore,
I trust the world holds many more.
Now as the sparkling wine we sip,
We won't forget this noble ship:
And when I ask it, don't think ill,
A slight remembrance of this HILL.
Now as, &c.
Whilst in New-Orleans, he purchased some real estate
in Mobile, for which he paid five thousand dollars. Some
time afterward, an old Spanish claim came up for the property, and he lost every cent of his investment. This
is only one of a number of speculations in which ill fortune attended him; indeed, I cannot learn that he ever
succeeded in realizing anything from any single venture
which he made outside of his profession.  Mr. Hill was
unquestionably the best Yankee on the stage, and the very
worst one off. The down-east shrewdness which made his
assumption on the stage so rich and racy, formed no part
of his character in matters of purchase or barter. He
was simplicity itself on such occasions; and when told by
friends, of risks he was running, he would answer, " 011!
2'




34           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
my business will come out right, I guess." But he seldom
guessed right. His disposition was sanguine and confiding,
and he easily fell a prey to designing men. In connection
with the purchase of his Mobile property, I may as well
relate the following anecdote, inasmuch as it displays the
only bit of shrewdness in money matters ever exhibited
by him: It appears he consulted Robert Morris, Esq.,
ex-Post-Master of New-York, on a point of Law-the fee
for which advice was five dollars.  Mr. Hill visited Mr.
Morris, and when the advice was given, he took out his
five dollars and laid it before his lawyer.  Whether Mr.
Morris was astonished to see a player with so large an
amount of ready cash or not, I don't pretend to say, but at
any rate, he remarked to Mr. Hill, that players were usually
very imprudent in money matters, and that he never saw
one who knew how to take care of his money.
" Is that your rale opinion of actors?" said Mr. Hill.
" It is;" replied the ex-Postmaster.
" Allow me, then," said Mr. Hill, picking up his money
and putting it into his pocket, " to make you acquainted
with one who does know how to take care of his money.
Good morning, sir." Mr. Morris was too well entertained
with the illustration to detain his client, and laughingly,
bade him farewell.
After playing his engagement at New-Orleans and Mobile, he returned to New-York. The following lines, addressed to Yankee Hill, he found in one of the daily papers
on his arrival in the citv:




YANKEE HILL.                       35
OUR OWN YANKEE HILL.
New-England, I love thee, dear land of my birth!
The sky-kissing mountains, where liberty roves;
The blossom-gemmed meadows, the sweetest on earth,
Thy bright, sunny fields, and thy musical groves;
Thy landscapes are smiling when summer prevails,
And vocal with melody's amorous trills;
How sweet are thy laughing and musical dales,
How pleasant thy laughing and musical Hills.
I've stray'd in the South, o'er savannah and plain,
By flat fields of indigo, cotton and rice,
Through richest plantations of saccharine cane,
And orange-groves breathing of Araby's spice:
But, home of my childhood, while absent from thee,
And feeling I loved thee more fervently still,
How sweet to the wanderer, was it to see,
A laughing and musical New-England Hill?
The fair of the South have acknowledged its worth;
So simple, so quiet, so honestly shrewd,
So freight with the richest incentives to mirth,
So richly with wits' sparkling treasures endued.
When Disherwill, Jonathan, Solomon Swop,
With his Green-Mountain Boy, blue devils to kill,
E'en Beauty must laugh till she's ready to drop,
To view in Mobile such a green Yankee Hill.
Then welcome him back, for this Hill is your own,
And a fresh crop of evergreen shadows his brow;
By you were the seeds of his laurels first sownLet fashion and opulence foster them now.
The bright smile of Beauty will welcome him home,
The patrons of Genius will honor him still;
The votaries of Comus forbid him to roam,All warmly will welcome our own Yankee Hill.




36           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
In the spring of 1836 Mr. Hill again appeared at the
Park. In the June following he performed two weeks at
the Tremont Theatre, Boston.  Returning to New York,
he played a farewell engagement at the Park previous to
his departure for Europe. A few days before he sailed for
England he received the following communication:
"NEW YORK, August 2d, 1836.
" To George HI. Hill, Esq., Comedian.
" DEAR SIR: —At a meeting held this evening, after organization, it was resolved, that the present being a meeting
of the personal friends and professional admirers of Mr.
George Hill, on learning that it is his intention to visit
Europe in the course of the present month, we will invite
him to accept a dinner, to be given by us at the City Hotel,
on the 8th inst., as a token of our esteem for his personal
character and admiration of his professional excellence.
" In accordance with which resolution, we, in the name
of the meeting, invite you to a dinner, to be given as an
evidence of their and our regard for your private virtues
and professional talents, at the time and place above stated.
" B. BATES, Chairman.
B. BIGNALL,         Secretaries."
". JENKS SMITH, 
The dinner was given at the City Hotel, at that time the
Hotel of New York.  It was numerously attended.  The
following letters were read after the cloth was removed:
"PROVIDENCE, August 6th, 1836.
" DEAR SI: —It is with unfeigned regret that I inform
you of my inability to be present at the dinner to be given




YANKEE HILL.                    37
to our friend Mr. Hill, prior to his departure for Europe.
A letter from you first introduced Mr. Hill to my acquaintance, and I ought, long ere this time, to have acknowledged
my indebtedness to you for the pleasure I have derived
from that acquaintance. He is too well known in his career
before the public, to allow me to say, that, as a friend, a
true-hearted one, and as a gentleman, I esteem him most
highly. May he be a star in Europe, and succeed in showing John Bull what brother Jonathan is in his true character. I will thank you to show him this letter, and present
him my warmest regards.  I forward you a sentiment for
this occasion:
The Yankee Characte'.  It has been  perverted and
maligned by the Halls and Trollopes of Europe. If through
the modesty of our countrymen its beauty has been' hid
under a bushel,' may it soon be seen'on the house-top,'
and conspicuous on the Hill."
Yours, with respect,' W. R. DANFORTH.
"S. J. SMITH, Esq."
" NEW YORK, August 8th, 1836.
"SIR: —Your note of the 5th inst. did not come to hand
in time for an earlier reply. I regret that it is not in my
power to avail myself of the very kind invitation of the
Committee to be present at the dinner to be given to Mr.
Hill, being on the point of setting off for the country. I
beg you to make my grateful acknowledgments to the
Committee for the honor they have done me, and believe
me, very respectfully, your obliged obd't servant,' WVASHING-TON IIVING."
"S. JENKS SMrrT, Esq."




38            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
On this pleasant occasion he was presented with a silver
pitcher, which bore the following inscription:
PRESENTED TO
GEORGE  H. HILL, ESQ.,
AS A SLIGHT TOKEN OF THE RESPECT AND ESTEEM
OF A FEW OF HIS
YANKEE FRIENDS IN NEW YORK.
The compliment of such a presentation had at that time
an intrinsic value. It had not then, as now, become an idle
ceremony, indiscriminately bestowed upon the undeserving
and the deserving. A captain of a vessel, now-a-days, who
is simply civil to his passengers and is careful and prudent
in the conduct of his ship, where his own life and interests
are at stake, is so often made the recipient of a compliment of this kind, that the thing has degenerated into a
senseless farce. Mr. Hill used to tell a story of a presentation scene he once witnessed in a country town in the
interior of the State of New York.  A military company
were desirous of presenting their captain with a testimonial
of their approbation of his services as a soldier and a man,
for, as one of the resolutions expressed it, " he was always
foremost in the hour of danger," meaning, I suppose, that
he had had the temerity to stand within six yards of the
target on one of their excursions. A silver cup was purchased, and it was presented in the following fashion:
" Captain," said the gentleman honored with the duty
of making the presentation, "Captain, there be the jug."
"Ah," said the Captain, " are that the jug?"
"It are," was the reply.
" Nuff ced," exclaimed the Captain, "and now let us
liquor."




YANKEE HILL.                    39
Mr. Hill left New York in the packet ship Oxford, Captain Rathbun, in the month of August, 1836.  Among the
passengers was the Hon. Charles A. Murray, now Master
of the Queen's Household.  He was returning from his
tour through the United States, the particulars of which
he has given in a very impartial and entertaining book of
travels.  He formed a very sincere attachment to Mr. Hill,
and took every occasion during Mr. Hill's residence in
England to evince the deep interest he had in his success.
Mr. Hill was the life and soul of the party on board,
and they used to assemble in the cabin of an evening, and
listen for hours to his amusing stories. The following relation was delivered on one of these occasions:"Ike Marble came driving the Deacon's mare along one
day, like nothin!' Well, Sol,' says he,'yer goin' to
uncle Ephs?''Why,' says I,'I ain't fixed up nor
nothin'.''Jump in,' says he, and he took me by the
coat-collar, and pulled me in kerchunk.  Away we went:
we skipped over the airth like real tearers; pretty directly
we brought up to uncle Ephs, all standing like an empty
bag full of nothin'. Well, in I goes into the parlor and sot
myself down right alongside of uncle Ephs' Betty. Says
I,'Betty, how d'ye due?'  I couldn't git along a bit
though, for she blushed just like a blue carrot. Presently
in come Nancy Slocum, Ike Marble, and a hull lot more of
gals and fellers. By jingo, I never seed the like afore, and
there was I settin' right in the wrong place, for the gals
all seemed to take a taring liking to that room. Bime by,
Nance says,' Sol, will you go in t'other room.' Confound
it, thinks I, you got another room?  Howsomdever I did
go in, and arter a little while supper was got ready, and I
took my stand right behind the door so as to see the gals




40            LIFE AND lLRECOLLECTiONS OF'
as they went out by one room into t'other; presently somebody said,' Better shut the door tew;' slam went the door.' Boo!' says I, and they all cried out,' Why, Sol.'  They
opened their mouths wide enough to swaller a haymow.
At last I got sot right down between Nancy Slocum and
Sal Barton, with a large chunk of pumpkin. pie in one hand,
and Nancy's hand in t'other. Just as I was goin' to ask
Nancy if she loved apple sarce, in comes Ike Marble with
his white trowsers all daubed with mud; it sot me a larfin
so, right afore Sal Barton tew, that I dropped a great junk
of pumpkin pie right slap on Sal Barton's new gown: then
sich a time: Sal jumped up, Ike looked blue, Nancy blushed, and I sneaked out. Oh! I swow if I ain't one of the
most unlucky critters that ever breathed. Tryin' to git out
of the way, I went into uncle Ephs cupboard and sot myself slap down in one of aunt Nab's custard puddings.
Oh, dear! as I was fumbling round to git out, down come
a  bottle  of  pepper-sarce  into nine hundred  pieces.' Mercy!' screamed Nancy,' what's in our cupboard?'
The door flew in and I flew out, all dripping with custard,
bang agin Nance, chunk agin Sal Barton, out through the
porch, and over the bridge, as if Satan was arter me, and
if you catch me there agin you'll catch a white weazel
asleep, I tell you."
During the passage across the Atlantic, Messrs. M[urray
and Hill used to issue a daily paper, which was a source
of infinite amusement to the little public of which they
were the head and front.  I regret that I have it not in
my power to present several numbers of this Atlantic
Journal.  The following cormmunications appeared in one
wh}ich has been preserved: —




YANKEE HILL.                     41
"BERTH LODGE, STEERAGE COUNTY,
"August 27th, 1836.
" Messrs. Kinderer, Murray, Hill & Co.,
" GENTLEMEN:-Ever since I moved into this country, I have been very much interested in the case of an
unfortunate woman who resides in my vicinity.   She is
daily pining away, without any disease that medical skill can
detect. When I first knew her she was almost a skeleton:
she has now but a thin transparent covering to her bones.
The sight of her has been so piteous as often to take away my
appetite, especially when the vessel works and rocks more
than usual.  She refuses all consolation, and has never,
till this very day, made any disclosures of the sercet of her
suffering. Yesterday morning, as I was reading the Last
Breeze, I was startled by a sudden scream; I looked up
and saw her falling, while No. 4, who had evidently been
talking with her, was endeavoring in vain to support her;
she fell senseless.  We used water, Cologne, &c., while
Doctor Lobelia was sent for, but all our efforts and his
were ineffectual.  The hottest steamings produced no impression upon her. We were giving her up as a gone case,
the only case he had ever lost, the Doctor said, when she
had revived enough to say,' Oh Sol;' but instead of proceeding in her Latin invocation to the sun, as we supposed
it, she fell back, became drowsy, and slept till this morning. The Doctor seeing that nothing more was to be done
for her at present, first asked me if he should look to me
for his fee, then discoursed upon the blessings of the Thomsonian practice; then took the two Latin words she had
uttered as a theme for a phrenological harangue to the audience, which had now gathered round him.' Only think,'
said he,'of Latin from  a woman of her condition, how




42            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
wonderful!''You, none of you understand it, but I do. I
see it in her eyes; only look, how prominent,' for in truth
her flesh had fallen away so that they stood out like goggles. But I ought not to repeat his discourse, which was
so eloquent, that the audience upon the spot formed a
phrenological society, and voted to request a copy for the
press; you will, no doubt, be applied to to print it. This
morning the poor woman seems quite bright and has applied to me to write to you in her behalf, as she is not able
to write herself. Her yesterday's emotion was occasioned,
she says, by hearing from No. 4, that a man had been
seen in your country calling himself Solomon, and mentioning her name with Sal Barton.  She has no doubt but
that it is her sweetheart, Solomon Snifflenose, the deacon's
son, and as her life depends on his being found, she wishes
you to advertise him in your extensively read and highly
valued paper.
" Your friend and subscriber,
" ZERUBBABEL SKINNER.
" P. S.-I enclose an advertisement and a letter for Mr.
Snifflenose, should he be found.
"LOST, STRAYED, OR STOLEN,
"A first-rate Sweetheart, 27 years old, 5 feet 4 inches in
height, weighing 149 pounds.  He has a round faee, lips
that turn up most bewitchingly at the corners; is a charming little fellow every way, and answers to the name of
Solomon, or, more commonly, Sol Snifflenose.  I have no
money, but any one that will give me information where
said Solomon may be found, will do more than I can tell,
for a distressed maiden; and if any person will seize him




YANXEE HILL.                   43
and fetch him right to me, he shall have the first cent I
find in the ashes
her
"Witness,              NANCY M SLOCUM.
" ZERUBBABEL SKINNER.                  mark.
" N.B.-He must be treated kindly.
"DEAR SOL,-I take my pen in hand, or rather Mr.
Skinner (don't squint, Sol, he is 50 years old, and has got a
wife and children), takes it for me.  I'm in such a taking,
Sol, I can't write to inform you that I am in good health,
and hope you enjoy the same blessing-(Mr. Solomon, I,
the penman, Z. Skinner, must interrupt the course of the
epistle, to say that this is a lie, told so as not to hurt your
feelings; she is as sick as she can be and live, and is dying
to see you.)  Oh! Sol, what a spot of work you made
when you run into that closet and then run away from me.
Oh I dear, dear! did you know, Sol, what tender affections
you were crushing in the bud, you'd never have sneaked
out so, after having thrown so many sheep's eyes, and a
squeezing my hand, so as eenmost to make the tears come.
What if you did sit down in mother's pudding?'twas clean
dirt; and if you don't like the cow's milk you need not kill
the heifer calf to spite her. Oh! I shall die, Sol-(a sigh
here as long as your father's nose, Mr. Solomon.-Z. S.) if
you don't come back.  When you run I took arter you as
you'd a seen if you'd look back, but I might as soon have
thought of catching a weazel, or legging it arter a streak of
lightning. I went home, but I could not eat any more
than our white pig, when the black one had rooted his
trough over. So, one night, I took a bundle of clothes and
sot out, to see if it I could not find you. I heard you were
seen on your way to New York.  I followed on, and who




44            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
should I see, as I was trudging down Broadway, with the
houses on both sides as thick as Sue's pumpkins, but Jerry
Snaggers.  He told how you were going to old England,
and he guessed as the great folks there would snicker well
to see such a sloony of a Yankee among them. I wanted
to pull his whiskers for him, but, says I,'twon't do here'fore folks, and asked him how you were going?  He said
he did not know, but a new ship was jist on the start and
if I went in it I should be sure of getting there as soon or
sooner than he, so I looked as pleasant as a basket of chips
and asked him to go with me to get on board: so we went;
and the Captain asked me whether I would go as a cabin
or steerage passenger?' Which gets there first?' says I,'Why there ain't much difference,' says he,'but if without
we back in the steerage folks have a little the best chance,'
so I took his advice and went right aboard. I've looked
for you ever since and axed some sly questions for you, but
till just now, (the poor woman has no idea of the lapse of
time, Mr. Snifflenose.-Z. S.)  I've supposed you were in
some other ship.  Oh! Jiffins, how Bill made me jump.
I thought I should have gone out of my skin.  And
now I'm in sich pewter basin. But do come and see me,
Sol. You will, won't you, Sol? Don't say you won't, Sol;
now, you won't, Sol, will you? Your best friend,
" NANCY SLOCUM.
"She cried.so here, that she could not tell me anything
more, and as the mail is just going she wants me to put
down her name and send it off.  Yours, &c.,
"Z. S."
Mr. Hill arrived safely at Liverpool, and after a short
stay there, proceeded at once to London.




YANKEE HILL.                    45
We may regret as much as we please that we have not
more independence of judgment on this side the Atlantic
than to be influenced by the fiat of a London audience in
dramatic affairs: it is nevertheless true that we are so, and
all the regrets and sarcasm in the world to the contrary, it
will have weight among us. Mr. Hill was fully impressed
with the important bearing his success or failure in London
would have upon his fortune in the United States, and this
added to the doubts and fears which every actor would
feel in appearing before a strange audience, made him
excessively nervous and anxious about his appearance.
The Yankee dialect was but little, if at all, known in London; and he knew that his success must depend on something more solid than the mere delivery of quaint sayings
in a strange and peculiar dialect. Mr. Hill, in contemplation of the hazard he was running in venturing upon entirely
new ground before a British audience, often had his misgiving upon the propriety of the step he had taken. At
home, he stood alone the representative of the Yankee
character; he was applauded to the very echo wherever he
appeared, and not a theatre in the Union which was not
open to him  whenever he chose to engage: but he felt,
that if he failed in his present enterprise, his brilliant prospects at home would be, if not entirely blighted, at least
materially dimmed.
Mr. Hill was engaged by Mr. Bunn, then lessee of
Drury Lane, to appear at that establishment. Mr. Bernard,
the well-known dramatic author, was employed by Mr. H.
to prepare a new piece for his debut.  The Yankee Pedlar
was the result, and in this piece Mr. Hill made his first bow
to a British audience.  MVr. Price, the able partner of the
late Edmund Simpson, Esq., was exceedingly kind to him,




46           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
and did and said all he could to encourage him.  A few
days before he appeared, Mr. H. received the following note
from Mr. P.:
" MY DEAR SIR: I understand you have been very much
annoyed by some remarks of Mr. Bentley's.  It was' certainly bad taste in him to mention to you his dissatisfaction,
which I presume arises from the part assigned him. You
are to remember you want all your nerve, and I am quite
sure you may depend upon a warm reception.  Go on,
fearlessly, and you need have no dread of the result. You
will have many warm friends in the house who will support
you.              Yours, truly,          S. PRICE."
The eventful evening at length arrived. Public expectation had been much excited by the novelty about to be
presented for its enjoymnnt, and the house, on the evening
of Mr. Hill's appearance, was full of the fashion and
beauty of London. He was received with the utmost
enthusiasm, for there was that in the manner of his entrance
which at once impressed upon the minds of the audience
that a genuine artist had made his entree. How well he
succeeded may be seen by the following notices which
appeared in the London papers.
Mr. Hill thus wrote to his friend Woodworth:
"LoNDON, Dec. 12, 1836.
"     M  DEAR WOODWORTHi: I was most happy to receive
your kind favor bearing date Nov. 16th, but grieve to hear
that you have been so afflicted with your eyes as to cause
your resignation at the'Navy Yard, Boston.'  Before
this can reach you, you will have heard of my success at




YANi:EE HILL.                   47'Drury Lane,' which was most triumphant.  Cordelia
(I believe) has a letter from me, which contains the account
of my first appearance here, which I have no doubt she
will read to you.  I am. pleased to hear you have done
something more for the American Drama; let authors and
actors work for each other in our beloved country, and the
time is not far distant when we shall build a dramatic fame
among us, which will be the envy of the world. I am so
much engaged at this period, that I cannot give you as long
a letter as I wished, but promise one when I am more at
leisure.  Remember me to your family, and believe me, as
ever,         Your sincere friend,       G. H. HILL."
" S. Woodworth, Esq,"
FROM THE LONDON TIMES, NOV. 2, 1836.
" DRURY LANE THEATRE.-One of the most curious and
novel representations that our stage has seen, was exhibited
last night, in the performance of Mr. Hill, an American
comic actor.  Mr. Hill, it seems, has been extremely popular in America, for the humorous fidelity with which he has
portrayed the characteristics of Yankees, a race whose
peculiarities excite no small degree of mirth among the
nephews and nieces of Uncle Sam.  The sketches of the
late Mr. Mathews and the lucubrations of Major Downing
and Colonel Crockett, have given us some notion of the
oddities of the down-easters.  Mr. Hill's  personations
furnish a finished picture, of the accuracy.of which we have
no reason to doubt, and of the whimsicality of which we
readily bear witness to.  But the true merit of his acting is,
that he gives a perfect picture of a very odd character




48            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
hitherto very slightly known on our stage, and proves in
that power of humor which is somewhat rare and always
highly attractive, he can fairly take his stand among the
best low comedy actors we possess. He was received with
great applause, his jokes produced abundant laughter, and
the audience seemed so to relish the whim of the representation, that he can hardly fail to become a favorite. He
was called for, after the close of the piece, and his announcement of its repetition was received with universal
approbation. Some more such importations as Mr. Forrest
and Mr. Hill, and our dramatic freights to America will be
brought much more directly under the reciprocity system
than they have hitherto been."
FROM THE LONDON GLOBE, OF NOVEMBER 2, 1836.
"DRURY-LANE.-Mr. Hill, who has obtained pretty considerable celebrity in America, by his droll performance of
Yankee characters, last night submitted his pretensions to
the approval of a London audience, who were highly
amused with his quaint humor, and awarded him a hearty
welcome, and applauded his exertions as vehemently as
the most ardent of his countrymen could desire; the audience seemed fully determined to prove how happy they
were to acknowledge talent from wherever it might come,' and went the whole hog' in expressing their approval of
the' stranger's' talents. A new' local' and characteristic
sketch, in one act, entitled' The Yankee Pedlar; or, Old
Times in Virginia,' was prepared for Mr. Hill's appearance.
It is from the ready pen of Mr. Bernard, and, as a piece de




YANKEE HILL.                    49
circonstance, merits commendation. Its leading incidents
serve to portray the peculiarities of that portion of our transAtlantic brethren termed' Yankees,' or in their expressive
vocabulary'Down-Easters.'  Mr. Hill sustained, in the
piece, the part, of Hiram Dodge, a Yankee pedlar, a counterpart of our' canny Yorkshire lad.' Not finding a market for his razors, which he assured his customers, if oiled,
and put under the pillow at night, would astonish the
buyer, who would find himself clean shaved when he awoke
in the morning, he becomes successively a servant, a confidant, a carpenter, and jockey, with a view to gain unappropriated dollars, and is at last brought upon the stage
defunct, having been thrown from  a horse in a race; he,
however, revives with alacrity, upon hearing his quondam
master exclaim, he would give forty dollars if he were alive
again, and clenches the offer at the instant.  The principal
attraction and peculiarity of the performance was the
quaint, dry humor of the actor, and the many odd phrases
and similes interspersed throughout the dialogue. At the
conclusion of the piece, Mr. Hill was liberally applauded
by the audience, and called forward to receive the expression of their approbation."
FROM THE LONDON TRUE SUN, NOVEMBER 2, 1836.
"DRURY-LANE.-Our heart always warms to an American
in England: still more to an American on the English
stage. We went prepared to greet Mr. Hill with cordiality,
and predisposed to be pleased. We need not have fostered
a friendly feeling towards him.  He had not been ten
3




50           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
minutes on the boards ere he had deserved aud commanded
it from  every man, woman, and child.  There is a bonhommie about the man, which attaches one to him before
one has had time to appreciate his original and very effective powers of humor.  He was very diffident on his first
appearance, and never perfectly gained confidence.  His
manner of mingling gravity and grins is irresistibly comical.'His smiles,' aptly observes a brother critic,'are like fits
of sunshine on a cloudy day.' A Yankee pedlar is a hybrid
animal, of a class so thoroughly indigenous, that none but
a Yankee of native acquaintance with its characteristics,
could meetly personate its peculiarities. This, Mr. Hill,
we rather imagine, did for the first time last night. He is
a valuable addition to Mr. Bunn's corps.  When called for
at the close, his heart was evidently full.  We have witnessed' a return thank'. speech from a countryman of his,
to which Mr. Hill's uncalculating and heartfelt incoherence
presented an admirable contrast."
FROM THE LONDON CHRONICLE, NOVEMBER 2, 1836.
"DimURY-LANE.-The entertainments at this theatre last
night, besides the Siege of Rochelle and Der Frieschutz,
(two full-grown operas, a musical repast more than sufficient for the most voracious appetite,) consisted of'a local
characteristic sketch, in one act, called the Yankee Pedlar;
or Old Times in Virginia.'  This is evidently a genuine
American production; and it served, too, to bring before
the English public another American actor of merit.  We
cannot describe Mr. Hill in this part farther than by saying




YANKEE HILL.                    51
that in aspect, gait, dress, language, and dialect, he completely realizes the conceptions we had previously formed
of the singular race whose representative he is.  Some of
his Yankeeisms were beyond our conception, but the picture altogether was delightfully quaint, humorous, and
witty; and the audience showed their relish of it by incessant laughter and applause. The plaudits at the end of
the piece were prolonged till Mr. Hill made his appearance
to make his acknowledgments."
FROM THE LONDON COURIER, NOVEMBER 2, 1836.
"DRURY-LANE. —Last night, an amusing trifle, called
The Yankee Pedlar, introduced a Mr. Hill, a transatlantic
brother, to a London audience.  The story turns upon a
peddling body (Mr. Hill), who introduces himself, by means
of an intercepted letter to one Colonel Bantam, a fowlbreeding, horse-rearing, Virginian planter, as a jockey to
ride in a match pending between the Colonel and a friend.
Having made his way into the Colonel's house, he begins
to mend the furniture, play the spy upon the daughter and
her lover incognito: takes money of the last not to discover
him to the father, and finds it equally worth his while to
break his contract. Meanwhile, the fraudulency of his intrusion is discovered, and he is entrusted with a note to
the Colonel's slave-driver, which is intended to procure him
a small amount of lashes; but he discovers the intention,
gives the responsive to the original bearer of the introductory letter, and offers to ride for the Colonel's antagonist.
The Colonel's horse is rode by the young lady's lover, to




52            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
whom  the Yankee pedlar loses the race, and the winner is
rewarded with a wife. The honest pedlar is full of Yankeeisms, colloquial, moral and gesticulative, which lose none
of their point in the hands of Mr. Hill. The new actor is
of an agreeable appearance; he is slight in figure with a
particularly-pleasant countenance, and a pleasant smile,
as far as the very confined nature of the part allowed him,
Mr. Hill displayed great humor and animal spirits.  He
was cordially received, and his agreeable address soon made
him friends with the audience."
FROM THE LONDON JOHN BULL, NOV. 6th, 1836.
"At DRURY-LANE, they have received another'help'
from America.  Tragedy and comedy have both visited us
from beyond the Atlantic; it is but just to the actors to
state, and also to the public, that their reception has been
honorable to each. Mr. Hill, as well as Mr. Forrest, has
established his reputation in his own country; his experiment, also, as to how far John Bull would sanction the
verdict of Brother Jonathan, has been satisfactory to him.
We are glad of this; our own players have, in general,
met with fair and liberal treatment in the States, and it is
pleasant to return the compliment.  The peculiarities of
the' Yankees,' —a class, and not the people of the United
States,-have been already rendered familiar to us.  Mathews took them off, and so did one of themselves, two or
three years ago: Mr. Hill comes to England for the express purpose of furnishing us with his' notions' of their
oddities, and does it with irresistible humor and effect.




YANKEE HILL.                    53
He plays at Drury-Lane, the part of a Yankee Pedlar, a
sleek, plausible, laborious, and enterprising rogue, with a
dialect and phraseology to be found universal among his
fellows, but nowhere else in the world.
"Of such novel material Mr. Hill makes a great deal.
Every word he utters tells: and the audience roars during
the whole of the time he remained upon the stage.  We
guess' he will'do,' also, in other parts; and cannot
fail to be a favorite in all."
FROM BELL S NEW WEEKLY MESSENGER, NOV. 6th, 1836.
"DRURY-LANE.-Another actor from America, made his
bow to an English audience, at this theatre, on Tuesday
night,-a Mr. Hill, who is said to enjoy considerable reputation in his own country, as a representative of' Yankee
characters.'  A new farce, written by Mr. Bernard, was
produced on the occasion: its title,' The Yankee Pedlar,'
Colonel Bantam (Mr. Bartley) has a daughter Nancy, (Miss
Lee,) whose hand he is anxious to bestow upon a friend;
but the young lady prefers a lover of her own choosing,
and befriended by Hiram Dodge, the pedlar, (Mr. Hill,)
she prevails upon her father to consent to her union
with her favorite.  Mr. Hill's dry humor amused the
audience greatly; and his Yankeeisms created much laughter. At the conclusion of the performance, Mr. Hill was
called before the curtain, when he proceeded to express his
thanks for his reception, in a speech evidently not' made
for the occasion;' what he spoke came from  the heart,
and we were too well pleased with the manner, to quarrel




54           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
about the matter of the speech.  The other characters,
mere make-weights, were as well supported as it was
necessary they should be."
FROM THE LONDON COURT JOURNAL, NOV. 5th, 1836.
" MR. HILL, an American actor of the comic cast, made
acquaintance with a London audience, on Tuesday night,
in a local sketch, called the Yankee Pedlar, a broad farce.
The Yankee Pedlar manages to make his way into the
house of one Colonel Bantam, (Bartley,) where he intrigues and tricks some fifty or sixty dollars into his pocket,
by playing spy upon the Colonel's daughter and her lover,
-hiring himself to the latter as confidant,-and jockeying
the Colonel into winning a horse-race against his own
arrangements, and giving his daughter to her lover against
his will.
" Mr. Hill is slight in figure, pleasant in countenance, with
a most agreeable address.  He laughs, turns grave, is
bustling, lounging, solemn, and chattering, by turns. All
the versatile knavery of the Yankee, with his undeviating
eye to the main chance, he pictures in right lively style.
Before the piece was over, he and his audience seemed
to have grown quite familiar; and being called on at the
end of the piece, in accordance with a silly custom, he
expressed his deep sense of the kind welcome he had
received, in just so many words,"




YANKEE HILL.                    55
FROM THE LONDON SATIRIST, NOV. 6th, 1836.
"The next that we have to notice, is Mr. Hill's performance of the Yankee Pedlar, in a sprightly and well-written
piece of that name, from the pen of Mr. Bernard, the author
of a variety of dramatic pieces, among the rest, that of the
Nervous Man.  Mr. Hill is an exceedingly clever actor;
his style is of the most quaint and quiet description: he
embodies a picture of a thorough-bred Yankee, who succeeds only by a sly and fraudulent cunning, in the most
humorous manner possible.  He has already become a
great favorite, and as characters are capable, as we have
seen, of being written for him  here, we' guess' that his
stay with us will not be very short"
FROM THE SUNDAY EVENING GLOBE, NOV. 6th, 1836.
"DRURY-LANE.-Mr. Hill, Another American performer,
in a line totally different from that of Mr. Forrest, made
his appearance at this theatre on Tuesday. A local sketch
called' The Yankee Pedlar,' was the vehicle of Mr. Hill's
peculiar talent, and it is but justice to say, that it was developed very cleverly.  Everybody has been amused at
one time or other, by Yankee exaggerations, delectable
in their very extravagance; in this'sketch,' there is a
choice'batch' of them, delivered in the genuine racy style
of a'native.' Mr. Hill's humor is unlike anybody else's
that we have seen; it is as quiet as it is quaint and felicitous, and bears the strong impress of truth. He is the




56            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
smoothest and slickest of pedlars, lies with so much ease
and comfort, and overreaches with such sly satisfaction,
that we are glad to make his acquaintance. He, in short,
gives an exceeding diverting picture of Yankees and Yankeeism, and if he play as well in his future characters, as
in this, he will always receive, as he did on his first appearance, a warm  welcome.
FROM THE LONDON SUNDAY TIMES, NOV. 6th, 1836.
" DRURY-LANE.-We have this week to record the appearance of another American actor of fair promise, on
these boards, in the person of Mr. Hill, who had previously
acquired considerable celebrity in all the principal American
theatres, by his representation of " Yankee characters," a
line of business that is somrwhat synonimous to our Yorkshire country boys.  We have hitherto been accustomed, not ill-naturedly, we trust, to confound everything
American, by the general term  of'Yankee,' but this is
quite a mistake. As in England, all rustics are not York,
so in America, the same class are not all' Yankee.' It is
a distinct caste, peculiar to the eastern states, and like our
Yorkshiremen, is chiefly distinguished by shrewd cunning,
under the mask of simplicity.  Mr. Hill made his debut before an English audience, in a farce called' The Yankee
Pedlar,' which Mr. Bernard has so adapted to the British
stage, as to render the main features of the principal part,
tolerably intelligible. At this moment, we cannot call to
recollection, any character of our own drama, which bears
sufficient similitude to it, to afford room for comparison; but




YANKEE HILL.                    57
though wholly unacquainted with the original, we may imagine the portrait given by Mr. Hill, to be a faithful one.
The piece is plentifully interlarded with local witticisms, and
is altogether a very agreeable bit of broad comedy. Hill's
acting was easy and natural, sufficiently comic to keep the
risible muscles of his auditors in constant play, without
any straining at effect.  The Americans call him'little'
Hill, and so he is; but his figure, though not colossal like
Forrest's, is well formed and his features are good, and
capable of the richest comic expression, Though he had
not quite so much to do as we could have wished, he has
certainly made a most favorable impression by his performance, even of this trifling part.   Bartley's Colonel
Bantam, was an exceedingly happy conception, and it was
equally well embodied. In parts of this description, Bartley has no rival. At the fall of the curtain, there was an
universal call for Hill, who came forward and expressed his
acknowledgments in modest, but appropriate terms.  The
farce was given out for repetition amid loud plaudits.
FROM THE LONDON MORNING HERALD, JAN. 4th, 1837.
"OLYMPIC THEATRE.-Last night, Mr. Hill, celebrated
throughout the United States of America for his correct
personation of the Yankee character, made the second appearance upon these boards in his original part of Hiram
Dodge, in  Bernard's farce  of'The  Yankee  Pedlar.'
Having fully detailed the plot and incident of this trifle
when it was some short time since produced at Drury-Lane
Theatre, it would be a work of supererogation now to do
3*




58            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
so; —we have, therefore, but little to remark upon the present occasion, further than to record its success here, as well
as the favorable reception of Mr. Hill, whose performance
was honored with great and frequent applause. The manner of Mr. Hill is perfectly quiet, and his acting more nearly
resembling  that of the late "little Knight," as he was
called, than any we have since seen; and his stories, for
which his countryman has contrived this farce as the vehicle, are not unlike in their quaintness, humor and minuteness of detail, though, of course, far exceeding it in the
romance peculiar to the new  country, that of " Betty at
Heckleton Fair," which all who have heard it from the lips
of the latter, must well remember. The size, therefore, of
his present arena, is peculiarly adapted for Mr. Hill's performance, as it enables all to hear, and hearing, few failed
to laugh outright.  The piece was in other respects, well
supported, and had, in addition, the advantage of new and
appropriate scenery.
FROM THE LONDON SUNDAY TIMES, JAN. 8th, 1837.
"OLYMPIC.-Mr. Hill, the American comedian, whose
successful appearance at Drury-Lane in the Yankee Pedlar,
we noticed some weeks back, has been enlisted into the
ranks of the Widow  of Wych-street.  Mr. Hill appeared
here on Monday last, in the same part, and has played
each succeeding night with increased applause. His quiet
humor tells better than in the larger house-at all events,
he contrived to keep the audience in roars of laughter,
during the whole of this performance




YANKEE HILL.                     59
(Mr. Hill was acting at this period, at Madame Vestris's
and the Queen's Theatre, every night.)
FROM THE LONDON MORNING POST, JAN. 10. 1831.
QUEEN'S.-A new piece entitled Caspar Hauser, or The
Wild Boy of Bavaria, was produced last night at this
theatre.  We understand it is written expressly for the
purpose of exhibiting the peculiar powers of Mr. Hill,
whose delineations of Yankee character are very amusing
and racy.  The plot is founded upon a story which made
much noise about five years ago, but which  eventually
proved to be an imposture.  The writer of this piece,
however, takes the story for fact, with the only alteration
of conducting it to a happy catastrophe. The piece told
well; most of the pictures and positions were very effective; the scenery was good; and (as the loud applause
which followed the falling of the curtain, testified) the play
was decidedly successful.  Dr. Lott Whittle, the character enacted by Mr. Hill, was admirably adapted for the exhibition of those national peculiarities in which that gentleman is so successful. He is well described by one of
the dramatis personce as an "anythingarian"-a sort of
Yankee Caleb Quotam, with the same variety of calling,
but more quickness of resource and a harder intellect. He
describes himself well, when, in answer to the question of
" where he took out his Doctor's degrees,"' he says, " I did
not do it by degrees; I jumped into it at once."'At the
fall of the curtain, Mr. Hill was unanimously called for
and loudly cheered.




60           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
FROM THE LONDON CHRONICLE, JAN. 11, 1837.
"QUEEN'S  THEATRE.-A  new  piece entitled'Caspar
Hauser, or The Wild Boy of Bavaria,' was produced on
Monday at this Theatre. The plot is founded upon a story
which made much noise about five years ago.  The piece
told well, and was decidedly successful. Dr. Lott Whittle,
the character enacted by Mr. Hill, was admirably adapted
for the exhibition of Yankee peculiarities, in which that
gentleman is so successful. At the fall of the curtain Mr.
Hill was unanimously called for and loudly cheered."
FROM THE LONDON DAILY ADVERTISER, JAN. 11, 1837.
" QUEEN'S THEATRE.-On Monday evening, Mr. Hill, the
American Comedian who has acquired so much celebrity
in Yankee land, made his first appearance at this heatre.
The piece, however, which is purely of the melo-dramatic
school, had been got up with the utmost care and attention
to scenic effect, and it proved exceedingly attractive and
successful. The chief star of the piece, which seemed to
have been written entirely for his introduction, was Mr. Hill,
who personated Dr. Lott Whittle, a kind of nondescript
comic creation, framed for the purpose of delineating the
Yankee countryboyism. This gentleman's style of acting
is exceedingly modest, and we can readily believe true to
the life. He strains not an atom, but speaks his author, as
the original would do. This may not at first take the fancy
of every one who associates the idea,f comedian with some -




YANKEE HILL.                    61
thing very much out of the way; yet we were pleased to
see that the audience were caught by his style, and were
exceedingly liberal in their applause. At the conclusion of
the piece, the expression of approbation was tremendous;
and it ended with Mr. Hill being under the necessity of
presenting himself before the curtain.  His Americanisms
were really very quaint and amusing.
FROM THE LONDON TRUE SUN, JAN. 11, 1837.
"' QUEEN' THEATRE.-Mr. Hill, the American Comedian,
appeared at this theatre last night, in a new piece called'Caspar Hauser, or the Wild Boy of Bavaria.'  Mr. Hill
sustains the part of Dr. Lott Whittle, an everythingarian;
but particularly great in medicine and painting.  Those
who have read Lord  Stanhope's interesting account of
Caspar Hauser's imposture, for such it was at last discovered to be, will find that the actual circumstances are followed pretty closely in the drama. He is made, however, to
be the lost heir of a noble family, his uncle being the Baron
Rhemfelt (Mr. S. Johnston.)  The Baron has  an only
daughter, Eva, (Miss Clifford,) who discovers the wild boy
in his loan retreat. She saves him, and leads him into the
haunts of men, and has him carefully educated.  They
become mutually attached and are to be united, when
Caspar is stabbed by a villain named Grippeswald (Mr.
Reed,) who aspires to the hand of the young lady.  The
murder is discovered through the agency of Dr. Lott
Whittle, and the piece concludes.   Miss Grey sustained
the part of the Wild Boy with considerable ability, and con



62            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
trived to make him a most interesting person.  The chief
burden of the piece, however, fell on Mr. Hill's shoulders;
but he seems to delight in such difficulties, for he kept the
audience in constant laughter.  The humor of his new
character, is broader than that of the Yankee Pedlar, and
we thought that Mr. Hill seemed to enjoy the fun of the
part in a higher degree. He sang two songs very humorously, and showed that he knows well how much may be
gained by keeping back a talent until the proper moment
arrives for its display. There is one particular in which
Mr. Hill has no rival-and that is his manner of telling a
story. He introduced several last night, and the effect
was irresistible. The piece was much applauded, and was
given out for repetition amidst loud acclamations. Mr.
Hill was called for after the fall of the curtain.
Mr. Hill afterwards played in all the principal towns of
England, Scotland, and Ireland, and in every place received
the enthusiastic applause of large and brilliant audiences,
attracted by his name and fame.  During his sojourn in
Great Britain he made many valuable friends.  His engagements, however, were of too pressing a nature to allow
him much time for social pleasures. The following familiar
and friendly letter from the Honorable Mr. Murray, will
serve to show how difficult it was, at this time, to put a
finger upon Mr. Hill.
"LEAMINGTON, Feb, 23, 1837.
"MY DEAR' BLOWEhARnD:'-I am really vexed at the obstinate pertinacity with which a certain'gentleman in




YANKEE HILL.                  63
black with a forked tail' seems to contrive that we should
never meet, although both are in this little island; for, no
sooner do you move to the north, than I am carried off to
the southern districts, and your letter has hunted me from
Dunmore Park to Oxford, thence to London, and thence to
this place, where I am sojourning with my mother, who
is an invalid, and drinking the mineral waters of this Spa:
and now, as your letter is dated the 13th ult., I know not
where mine may overtake you, or whether it will ever
reach you at all, as you seem to be on a flying tour, of
which I know  not the ultimate destination; but I will
address it to Edinburgh, and merely assure you of my
sincere regret that our house should be empty, and all the
family absent, while you are in the neighborhood; it has
been but a sad and melancholy dwelling since my poor
father's death, but you should have had a bottle of good
Madeira, and a hearty welcome; and you shall still have
both, if you will visit us in the autumn, when the families
are all at their country seats; whereas you are rambling
through the country, when every soul is in London, attending
the court and the parliament. Pray let me hear something
of your proposed movements, and let us see if we cannot
induce the gent in black to allow us to meet somewhere
to have a few hours' chat about Johnny Wrath and his
merry crew. Believe me very sincerely yours,
" CHARLES A. MURRAY."
"To G. H. HILL, ESQ."
Mr. Hill was in Edinburgh when he received the foregoing letter.  The following extracts from  the Scotch
papers sufficiently show how highly he was appreciated in
the "land o' cakes:" —




64            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
FROM THE EDINBURGH SCOTCHMAN, FEB. 15th, 1837.
"' THE THEATRE. Mr. Hill, the celebrated American comedian, and personator of' Yankee country boys,'-as the
play bills have it,-commenced a short engagement here
on Wednesday evening, in the character of a' Yankee Pedlar,' an odd mixture of shrewdness, wit, and cool impudence, in the representation of which Mr. Hill displayed a
degree of talent which shows him to be an actor of considerable' mark and likelihood.' His line of character is some
degrees below the highest on the stage; but, nevertheless,
there is no want of room in that line for the display of
good acting.  What we admire most in Mr. Hill, is the
admirable command which he seems to possess over his
comic powers.  He does not throw away his efforts upon
so many separate and unconnected' hits,' or exhibit any
haste to distinguish himself all at once; but, repressing
and bridling in his piquant humor, he pursues'the even
tenor of his way,' chastely and quietly, trusting not to
petty details, but, as the poet says of beauty,'the joint
force and full result of all,' for the admiration and applause
of his audience, which here, at least, has been accorded to
him most warmly.  The representation of Yankee character, besides, is new to us in this quarter; and the very
novelty has a charm in it, which recommends his acting to
our liking.  We have only yet seen him in this one part;
but we understand he is no less excellent in the only other
character in which he has as yet appeared,-' Zephaniah
Makepeace,' a down-easter out of place."




YANKEE HILL.                    65
FROM THE EDINBURGH CALEDONIAN MERCURY,
FEB. 16, 1837.
"Last night Mr. Hill, the celebrated American Comedian,
whose representations of Yankee clowns have been so attractive in London, made his first appearance here and was
very warmly received.  We were glad to see this generous
feeling evinced towards a stranger, because, whatever may
be our partiality to native talent, it shows that a Scottish
audience is always ready to acknowledge merit, apart
from all such extrinsic considerations. The present actor
has the advantage of presenting to the British public a
genus quite unknown in our dramatic literature, and, of
course, the novelty would of itself go far to heighten the
attraction; but Mr. Hill has no need to rest his claims on
this circumstance, as his own comic talents afford a far
more secure basis.   The piece chosen for this occasion
was termed the' Yankee Pedlar,' being a local sketch of
American manners, though the other characters are entirely
subservient to that of the Pedlar, who by his roguery or
address contrives to bring his fortunes to a successful consummation.  Mr. Hill performed the Pedlar, and, as far as
we could judge, it seemed a most natural representationour opinion being confirmed by several who are acquainted
with the peculiar manners and eccentricities of the lower
classes in America.  His style is eminently chaste, bearing
some resemblance to that of Irish Power, who figures in a
different sphere. Mr. Hill does not seek to overpower his
audience by any wild freaks or sallies, but he attains his
end far more effectually by a chaste, quiet, but yet easy
and flowing vein of humors  In short, often when appear



66            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
ing to do nothing he does everything, if we may so express
ourselves.  In several scenes he was much applauded,
particularly in one, where a Planter, having written a letter
to his overseer, and dispatched the same by the Pedlar,
with his instructions to give the bearer 100 lashes, the
Pedlar, with an intuitive caution, which seemed his forte,
peeped into the fatal mandate, and seeing its contents,
dexterously selects another bearer.  He afterwards rejoins
the Planter, who, confident of the success of his stratagem,
eyes his man with amazement on hearing him ask, with a
cheerful countenance, if he had any farther commands.
He was met, however, by a look from the Pedlar equally
knowing and expressive, which convulsed the house with
laughter, and evidently showed Mr. Hill to be an actor.
At the close of the performance the applause continued
long and loud, until at last Mr. Hill made his appearance,
and with great good taste simply confined himself to announcing the piece for repetition. We feel confident that
the public will avail themselves of this opportunity of witnessing this actor in a new and interesting field of dramatic
adventure."
FROM THE EDINBURGH COURANT, FEBRUARY 16, 1837.
"THE THEATRE.-Last night Mr. Hill, an American performer, who has acquired considerable celebrity in this
country by his delineation of American manners and peculiarities, appeared, for the first time in Edinburgh, in an
admirable farce, entitled " The Yankee Pedlar."  Mr. Hill,
of course, sustains the principal character; and the quaint




YANKEE HILL.                    67
simplicity of his appearance and deportment, the amusingly
cool self-possession with which he pushed forward his own
interests, his quiet humor, and his sly sagacity, told with
irresistible effect on a very numerous audience. His engagement, we observe, is announced for only eight nights,
but we are sure his performances will become so popular
as to induce the manager to extend it."
FROM THE EDINBURGH OBSERVER, FEBRUARY 17, 1837.
"Wednesday Evening, Mr. Hill, the American Comedian,
came before the Edinburgh audience as' The Yankee Pedlar.' He was received with enthusiastic courtesy, and in a
few minutes established his claim to approval. His appearance is prepossessing, and his countenance (and his eye
especially) expressive of sly humor-and, without meaning
anything offensive, assuredly, to his national feelings, we
may sayhe presented, in the shape of the Pedlar, some of
those traits which we should guess belong to that class in
Yankee land, an order who can take gain in the form  of
money from opposite parties, and'then stand upon principle.' His performance throughout was'tarnation' and' cantankerous' clever, and kept the house in an unceasing
convulsion of laughter. Without the aid of prophecy, we
venture to predict both the piece and the performer will
be prodigious favorites among us. When it was finished,
there were loud and continued peals of laughter and applause, indicating that he was called for, and another member of the corps who came forth to announce a repetition
(we suppose) having got a hint to retire, Mr. Hill re



68            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
appeared, and intimated that' The Pedlar' was to be produced the following evening.   The announcement was
received with loud plaudits. Mr. Hill is evidently a firstrate performer in his walk, evincing the most perfect ease,
and that semblance of nature which, without serving effort
or art, is, in reality, an achievement of the highest art.
FROM THE EDINBURGH EVENINGF POST, FEB. 18, 1837.
"     THE TIHEATRE.- Mr. Hill, the celebrated American comegTan, has been with us during the week.  His chief walk
is the down-easter, or regular Yankee, a character sui
generis, and well worthy of a representative on the stage.
Mr. Hill seems to have studied the class most perfectly; at
least we can have no doubt of the natural effect of his
performance.  Nothing could appear less of a caricature:
and yet he renders the character most entertaining. His
performance proves him a first-rate comic actor, in some
respects not inferior to Liston, of whom he strongly reminds us. The dialect of Yankee and peculiar slang of the
tribe are conveyed with most amusing effect by Mr. Hill:
but perhaps the richest part of his performance is the droll
impudent stare which he assumes when he wishes to be
perfectly and particularly slick. Altogether, we consider
Mr. Hill's personations capital embodiments of character,
only less laughable because they bear the stamp of truth.
We should say that' we have few comic actors on our stage
to be compared with him."




YANKEE HILL.                     69
FROM THE EDINBURGH OBSERVER, rEB. 21, 1837.
"Mr. Hill continues to delight, by his masterly delineations of the Yankee character.  If ever there was a man
of talent in his art, it is this American.  He has the finest
and most expressive eye that ever spoke more eloquently
than words; he is gifted with a-taste and discrimination
which never allow him to exaggerate, even where that were
pardonable; and, to use a low term, very well understood
in high places, however, there is no humbug about him."
FROM THE EDINBURGH JOURNAL, FEB. 22, 183t.
"Mr Hill, the American comedian, has been engaged for
a very few nights, and takes his leave on Tuesday. We
regret his departure, and hope it may be postponed. This
clever actor introduces us to an entirely new line of characters,-for the Yankees of the stage have been, hitherto,
mere caricatures, while Mr. Hill's performances are finished pictures, bearing the impress of nature in every line.
His rich and inexhaustible humor is never obtrusive, and
the quiet way in which he goes on developing the character, without the slightest straining after'making a point,'
resembles the style of Keeley and Irish Power.   Like the
latter, too, he is a capital hand at telling a long story in a
way which keeps one's attention unweariedly on the stretch.
He has a fine, good-humored face, and a capital voice. We
have been delighted with the little we have seen of him;




70            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
and should like much to see more of him than his engagement, (if unextended) will admit of.
" On Tuesday, Mr. Hill takes his benefit, when, if the
favor he meets with is proportioned to his merits, there
will not be an empty seat in the house."
FROM THE GLASGOW COURIER, MARCH 9, 1837.
" THEATRE ROYAL. Since our last notice, Mr. Hill, the
American, has been increasing in attraction, in the character of Hiram Dodge, the Yankee Pedlar.  He has also sustained, with equal success, another character, but nearly
of a similar nature in all its essential features, namely, Dr.
Lott Whittle, an' American travelling artist of all work,'
in a melo-dramatic piece, entitled'Caspar Hauser, or the
Wild Boy of Bavaria,' in which Mr. Hill has greater scope
for the development of his Yankee peculiarities.  In.it no
point of any consequence was omitted: it was a full embodiment of the character, and left nothing farther to be
desired.  His humor was inexhaustible; his style of acting
inimitable."
His last engagement in Scotland was in Glasgow.  As
the time grew near for the termination of his European
tour, he became more and more anxious about home, and
was impatient for the day to come when he should leave
the scenes of his triumph, for the more solid joys which
awaited him at his fireside. The letter which I give below,




YANKEE HILL.                     71
addressed to Mrs. Hill from  Glasgow, will express his
feelings at this time, much better than I could give them:
" GLAsGoW, MARCH, 1st, 1837.
" M  LovE;-Having a few spare moments, I will occupy them by writing once more to thee. I have just laid
down my flute, after playing' Home, sweet home,' and oh,
how that air comes home to my feelings now.  Though a
few  days will find me embarked for my native land, it
appears that the time never passed so heavily, and I must
repeat once more, that if my God will suffer me to meet
you again, we will not separate, till one or both shall be
called to another world.  I was, last night, dreaming of
you, and that you clung to me in an hour of deep distress;
I partly awoke, and turned to speak to you, and say it was
but a dream, but found no one near me. I was alone, in a
melancholy, cold room, and naught to cheer me but the
moon's rays.  I arose from  my bed, put on my morning
gown, and sat by the window, I should think, an hour.'Silent [ gazed on the midnight sky,
While sad was the spell that bound me,
The pale moon shed, from her arch on high,
The gift of her glory around me.'
"I made my first appearance here on Monday last:
the house was full, and my reception as warm and enthusiastic here as in Edinburgh.  I play here ten nights.
I've been buying you some Scotch presents, to-day, which
I think you'll be pleased with. Tell the children that
father will not forget them; they shall have some delightful
presents when I return. I have many engagements offered




72            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
me now, but having made up my mind to sail on the 20th,
or 24th inst., have been obliged to refuse till I return.  Do
take good care of yourself and children, and pray fervently, as I do, that my journey may be a safe and speedy
one to the bosom of my dear family.
Yours, as ever, fond and true,
"G. H. H HILL."
" To CORDAELA Hi, God bless her."
Mr. Hill sailed from Liverpool in March, 1837, in the
ship United States, Captain Holdridge. On his homeward
passage, as he had been when ourtward-bound, he was the
life and soul of the "goodlie companie."  On his arrival in
New York, he was immediately engaged by Mr. Simpson to
make his first appearance after his trip to Europe at the
Park.  On this occasion, he appeared in a piece called,"The Pedlar,' the same which was written for him  by
Mr. Bernard, and played with such success in England.
His reception was of the most enthusiastic and flattering
kind.  The house was crowded from pit to dome, and
when he made his entree, it was many minutes before he
was allowed to speak, for the applause which greeted his
return.  He played to overflowing houses every night
of his engagement.  In the month of June he visited
Louisville. This was about the time when that disastrous
re-action took place, which followed the speculating epidemic of 1835 and'6. Whilst he was in Louisville, the
following lines appeared in one of the daily prints of that
city:




YANIKE HILL.                       73
" In these dull times of care and sorrow,
When tribulation fills each breast,
When every merchant dreads the morrow,
And notes and.protests haunt their rest.
Nature ne'er made a mortal fitter,
The worried heart with joy to fill,
Than that delightful, humorous critter,
That soul of frolic Yankee Hill.' Others may strut with tragic brow,
In tragic tones their grief make known,
Such serious themes don't suit us now,
Wit we would have, not fun alone.
A Yankee Pedlar opes his pack,
Of recipes each care to kill,
In Louisville, there is no lack
Of friends, to welcome Yankee lill,
Where'er he travels, east or west,
O'er rugged roads or stormy waters,
No favorite e'er was so caressed
By wit's gay sons and bright eyed-daughters.
When souls with welcome mirth are gushing,
And Fancy's sparks with rapture thrill,
When the full founts of wit are rushing,
Be there to charm us, Yankee Hill"
He next appeared in Cincinatti; he was a great favorite
in the Queen of the West, whose citizens always assembled
in crowds, to welcome his appearance among them. He
played a short engagement next in Boston, and then re-appeared at the Park in New York.  He was advertised to
play Solomon Swop in " Who wants a Guinea," but Mr.
Hackett placed an injunction upon the Theatre.  The injunction was, however, soon removed, and Solomon Swop
4




74            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
made his bow with the more unction after the initiation
into the mysteries of the Court of Chancery.  Solomon,
although threatened with a suit, did not get into any of
the bad habits usually acquired by gentlemen of the long
robe.
He then went to Philadelphia, and from  thence to
Washington.  He was here an accredited Ambassador
from the Court of Momus, and right welcome was he in a
place where motley is so much the wear.  Men worn out
with the ponderous duty of making laws, or jaded with the
more arduous task of feathering their own nests, or making
new ones for their friends, were glad to turn aside and enjoy the pleasant entertainments offered by Mr. Hill. The
farces annually played in Congress, are only entertaining
to the players engaged, being altogether what actors call
"too talky for the mass."  These beside, being monstrously expensive, are got up with such an utter disregard to
place, unity and time, that it is a wonder almost, the managers have not shut up the Theatre long before this, and
put the performers to some more congenial employment.
Mr. Hill was always successful in Washington, for his entertainments were of a character to attract the attention of the
best people there.  I have now before me complimentary
letters from Mr. Clay, John Quincy Adams, and others,
all expressive of their appreciation of Mr. Hill's talents as
an actor.  Among the incidents and anecdotes related in
another part of this book, will be found a speech delivered
by Mr. Hill, on the Oregon question, so that it will be seen,
that whilst he had an eye to maintaining the humor of his
country, he had a most patriotic regard to the other great
interests of the land.  After putting matters  right in
Washington, he returned to New York, which place he left




YANKEE HILL.                    75
in a few days, to fulfil an engagement at Albany. On his
voyage up the North River, he was seated in the cabin
reading a newspaper, when he observed an odd-looking
individual reading over his shoulder.  Mr. Hill looked up
in his face, when the fellow, with his hands in his pocket,
and not in the least disconcerted at being caught in so
impertinent and unmannerly an act, exclaimed " Any news
in particular?"
" No sir; will you accept the paper?"
" Oh no, can't; ain't got time.  It's the first time I've
been up this River, and I want to be looking reound.
How can they take a fellow up this river for a dollar and
found. They can't dew it. It's a take-in."
"How is that?"
" Why they charge one dollar to take you in, and when
you git up to Albany, you've got to pay another dollar to
get eout.  Got this place all fixed up so.  Sophy's all
reounac tew.  I never use Sophy's myself, but once courted
a gal by that name, and it looks a kind o' natural to
see Sophy's reound; and them stuffed-bottom chairs eout
there.  I thought I'd set deown on one on'em; by thunder, I jumped up three feet. Oh, I'll be darned if I didn't
think I was sitting down on sombody's baby.  You see I
chaw tobacco; grandfather chawed, and father he chawed, and mother, she-eh-no, she didn't, she snuffed, so
you see I have to keep running up to expectorate-as our
doctor says, overboard. I expect I shall have to go again
in about a minute."
"You need not take that trouble, sir," said Mr. Hill,
here are spittoons."
"Spittoons! Oh, yes, I know'd what them was for, but
they've got'em brightened up so, I didn't like to nasty'em.




76           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
I went to the The-ater to see you t'other night. Didn't
you see me?  I sot right in front of you."
"No, sir, I did not."
"Wal, I don't suppose you could; there was a hull lot of
fellers there.  I got jammed in.  I had on a striped vest,
the fronts were new, but the backs being made of cotton,
sometimes will give eout. By golly, I got.tew laughing,
so away went the back, slitted right up to the collar. I
was a little the tornest critter you ever did see."
" I am  very sorry  for your misfortune," remarked
Mr. Hill.
"'Oh, you needn't fret abeout it, Mr. Hill. I shouldn't
a wore it much more nor three weeks longer, anyhow.
You see I never wear my best clothes to sich places,'cause it kind a rips them eout a leetle. I had a bet abeout
you, Mr. Hill.  Some feller said you was born on Long
Island.  I told him you wasn't, you was born down-east."
"You were right, sir, I was born in one of the eastern
States."
"There, I know'd you was,'cause I know'd you couldn't
get along so well as you did, if you wasn't born deown
that way somewhere.  Have you been in Massachusetts?"
"Yes, sir," said Mr. Hill.
" Been in the State of Maine?"
"Yes, sir."
"Been in New Hampshire?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah.  Maybe you was born there?   They've got a
good many Hills."
"No, sir, I was not."
"Wal, you might have been.  Ever been in Vermont?"
"Yes, sir."




YANKEE HILL.                    77
"You know old Zeke Hill?"
"No, sir."
"Nor I nuther, but I've hearn tell there was such a feller, didn't know but you might have known him tew."
"Have you ever been in Connecticut?"
Yes, sir."
"Ever been in Rhode Island? that little bit of a thing
in there."
"Yes, sir."
" Have you ever been in Boston?"
" Yes, sir."
Having thus obtained nothing very satisfactory from
Mr. Hill, in relation to his birth-place, he commenced asking him if he had been to the Capital of this State, and
then the other, until he had got through the whole of
them; he then, to Mr. Hill's astonishment, commenced with
the country towns, doubtless with the hope of hitting at
last upon the one in which Mr. Hill was born. Mr. Hill,
getting a little out of patience, said, " I presume, sir, you
wish to ascertain where I was born?"
"Wal, yes, I shouldn't mind knowing, if you have no
objection to tell, and if you had told me before, you would
have saved me a darned sight of trouble."
"Well," said Mr. Hill, " I was born in Boston, in the
year 1809, on the 8th day of October, at six o'clock in
the morning."
"At six o'clock, eh?"
"At six o'clock precisely, down in Water street."
Dew tell.  But Mr. Hill, dew you remember the number
of the house?"
This was carrying inquisitiveness to the very extreme,
and would have been very annoying to any man but one




7S           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
engaged like Mr. Hill in enlarging a gallery of. odd pictures.
After finishing his engagement at Albany, he went to
Boston.  He was next to play at Baltimore and Richmond;
he deferred the latter engagement, however for a time, in
order to play for a complimentary benefit tendered to his
old friend and author, Samuel Woodworth, Esq.  The benefit came off at the Bowery Theatre, and resulted in the
substantial gain of $1500 to the beneficiary. I am told by
those who were present on this interesting occasion, that
he never played so exquisitely before. Every look he gave,
every word he uttered, told with immense effect upon'the
charmed audience.  My informant remarks, that he seemed
almost inspired.   Knowing as I do, the benevolence of
Mr. Hill's heart, I can readily understand the inspiration
he felt, for he knew that the poet's heart would be made
glad by the results of his exertion, and it threw a spirit
into his acting, which mere personal gain could not have
done. Mr. Hill was at all times ever ready to assist the
needy and deserving in his profession. He appeared for
benefits time after time: often with great inconvenience to
himself, and almost always with a loss in a pecuniary point
of view.
After the benefit, he proceeded to fulfil his deferred engagements at Baltimore and Richmond.  He was very
much dissatisfied with the company at the latter place, for
they were not only deficient in dramatic ability, but also in
respectability of character, and nothing was more galling
to Mr. Hill than to be obliged to appear with persons of
this description.
In the month of December, 1837, he went to New
Orleans. Several incidents which occurred to him in that




YANKEE HI.L.                   79
city will be found in another part of this work. Mr. Hill,
during this visit labored under a nervous depression, that
rendered him  very miserable.  He felt so depressed at
times, that it was with difficulty he could be urged to play
at all. Sometimes, even when dressed for a part, he has
wished to give it up, and would on many occasions have
done so, if he had not almost have been pushed upon the
stage by the Manager. It is a singular thing, that the
moment he came in view of the audience, he seemed a
changed being, and not a soul in front who looked upon
his laughter-provoking face could have believed for a moment, that he was the wretched being he really felt himself. This state of health continued upon him  for some
time; so bad did he feel, that when, in a short time afterwards he was playing in Philadelphia, he always had a
physician with him to feel his pulse and look at his tongue
every time he came off the stage.  To those who are unacquainted with the witch-like character of a nervous affection, this may appear almost incredible, but any one
who has suffered from a similar affection will readily sympathize with the sufferings he felt.
Mr. Hill was now preparing for his second visit to England.  He played a farewell engagement at Boston and in
New York, and on the 26th of May, 1838, sailed for Liverpool, in the packet ship Sheffield, Captain Allen. Mrs.
Hill accompanied her husband on this occasion. In nineteen days fiom the time of leaving New York, Mr. Hill and
lady landed in Liverpool.  He lost no time in that town,
but as soon as his luggage could be got through the
Custom  House, proceeded to London.  He was engaged
at the Haymarket Theatre, and made his first appearance,
after his return, in the comedy of New Notions, playing




80           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
the part of Major Enoch Wheeler.  This piece ran with
great success for one entire month.  He played for two
months at the Haymarket, and then went to Edinburgh.
He was a great and deserved favorite in Modern Athens.
Mr. Hill's health which had been much improved by the
sea voyage began to suffer somewhat from his residence
ashore, but his spirits were better, nevertheless, than they
had been before leaving home, for Mrs. Hill was with him
to cheer and sustain him with her attention and affection.
He left Edinburgh and sailed for Dublin.  He caught a
severe cold immediately on his arrival in Ireland, so that
on the first night of his appearance he was scarcely able to
make himself heard. He soon recovered from  this and
made himself heard to great advantage, for few strangers
have appeared on the Dublin boards who gained warmer
friends or left behind a more pleasing impression. During
his sojourn in Dublin, he made an excursion to a country
town, a few miles from the city, for the purpose of picking
up odd notions for future use.  He attended a meeting
which was called together for the consideration of the propriety of building a new jail.  Mr. Hill made note of the
following items.
"Resolved.-That a new jail shall be built on the same
spot on which the old one now stands."  (Carried unanimosuly.)
" Resolved —That, for the sake of economy, the materials
of the old jail should be used in the construction of the
new one."  (Carried.)
"It was moved by the Rev. Mr. Phalem, that for fear
the prisoners should escape, that the ould jail should not
be taken down until the new one was built."




YANKEE HILL.                  81
Mr. H. next appeared in Liverpool, then at Nottingham
and Birmingham, and in each place won fresh laurels.
In the inside of the coach which Mrs. and Mr. Hill took at
Birmingham for Nottingham, was a fine, portly old dame,
whose conversational spring seemed to have been wound
up and warranted not to run down, until everybody else
was. She was scarcely seated in the stage when she commenced by addressing Mr. Hill, thus:' Sir, do youknow Mr. S-?"
"No. madam."
"Dear me, why I thought everybody knew him! He
is brother to   -, who married Mrs. G.'s daughter; very
respectable people in Birmingham; and there is Mr. A., he
has a son in the army, a wild young man, although I suppose-black  moustaches-you have never-dark, curly
hair-seen him?"
The old lady waited for no reply, either from Mr. or
Mrs. Hill, but ran on:
"This is a beautiful country along here," she continued.
"That is the seat of Lord -;  splendid place, is it
not?'
"Yes, madam."
"He married Lady, and they say she is not so
happy with him as she would be with some other person. I
don't know, myself, but people will always have so much
to say. Strange thing, people will talk, talk, talk; for my
part, I can't see the sense of it.  What a fine child you
have. Is that your child, sir?"
" Why, madam, the belief that I am the father of my
own child, is one of those romantic sources of mundane
pleasure that I fully indulge in at the present moment."
"Yes, sir, no doubt. Look here, pupsy-tupsy, look at
4*




82           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
this picture.  I stop at Higby; I have friends there, and
my house is not far off. Where do you go, sir 9"
"To Nottingham, Madam."
"Nottingham is a fine town, sir?-is it your home?"
No, madam."
"You go there to see friends?  Have you ever been on
the railroad?"
The coach suddenly stopped at an hotel, when the old
lady left the stage and met an acquaintance with whom she
shook hands, and immediately opened her lingual battery.
Just as the coach was leaving, the old lady toddled up to
the coach door and called out to Mr. Hill, " Sir, sir, I may
want to speak of you to my friends; will you be so kind as
togive me your name."  Before a reply could be given,
the four spanking bays of the road had separated the parties for ever.
Mr. Hill returned to London, to play a short engagement
previous to his departure to France. There appeared in
one of the London papers, an article, which Mr. Hill
thought reflected a little strongly upon his countrymen,
and he addressed the following note, which the Editor had
the fairness to publish.
"No. 5, TAVISTOCK Row, COVENT GARDEN.
Dec. 17th, 1838.
"SIR:-I find in your paper of yesterday, an article
which speaks of me as the'representative of the peculiarities of my countrymen."'
" Now I beg to state, that I only profess to give, what I
know to be a faithful'picture of the rustic'Down-easter,'
the' Yorkcshirezan' of America, as they are sometimes
styled.  As it regards a gentleman, they are the same in




YANKEE HILL.                     83
all countries: and neither' Hiram  Dodge' the Pedlar, nor' Major Wheeler' of the Penobscot Militia, have any pretentions to such a title.    Yours, respectfully,
"G. H. HILL."
Mr. Hill, having obtained his passports, proceeded to
Paris.  This trip was undertaken more for the benefit of
his health, than for any professional purpose; but there
were in Paris a great number of English and American residents, who insisted upon his giving a few entertainments.
They could not think of allowing him, of whom they had
heard so much, escape them, without his giving a touch of
his quality. The following letter addressed to Mrs. Hill,
who remained in London, speaks of his arrangements.
" EVER DEAR CORDELIA:I am in Paris, and have made
arrangements to act at the theatre where the English Company played, and have the favorable opinions of all as to
the success of the, undertaking. I was very sea-sick crossing from Dover to Calais, and strained till I brought up
some blood, which alarmed me very much.  The journey
in the coach fatigued me, so that I am not myself exactly
yet, but hope to be in a few days. The moment I commence operations, you shall hear from me again (God willing.) Write often to me, for a favorable line from you
will keep me in spirits.
"Yours, sincerely, fond and true,    G.. H. HILL."
"Jan. 23d, 1839."
Mr. Hill, gave two entertainments in the French Capital
with  eminent success.  The  French critics, although,




84            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
perhaps, scarcely comprehending the humor of the downeast phraseology, saw in him and so esteemed him, a Comedian of rare endowments.
During his sojourn in Paris, he attended a Masquerade
Ball, in which he appeared in his favorite Yankee character.
It is customary at these entertainments for the masquer to
reveal his face before entering the room.  Mr. Hill, in obedience to the rule, took off his mask; he had scarcely
shown his face when some person cried out "Why, Yankee
Hill;" and his hands were instantly seized and almost
shaken off from his body in the excessive joy of the person
who had so quickly recognized the American Comedian.
There is something deliciously pleasant in these unexpected
meetings, thousands of miles away from home, even where
the parties in their own land were not very intimately acquainted with each other, as was the case here.  The gentleman who so cordially took Mr. Hill by the hand, had
never before exchanged a word with him, but he had sat
many an evening at the Park Theatre and enjoyed his company with unspeakable delight, and he thought this fact, and
the magical name of countryman, was justification enough
for exercising the privileges of a friendly recognition.
When the stranger left America, Mr. Hill was playing at
the Park, and he was not aware of his visit to Europe until
he saw him under the circumstances I have just related.
Among the stories, collected by themselves in another part
of this book, will be found a sketch of the American Political loafer. I give below, one of a French loafer, whom
Mr. Hill met in Paris.
Of all characters well calculated to excite the risible faculties, and appeal to the sympathies of the human heart,
beyond doubt it is the unfortunate and destitute French



YANKEE HILL.                     85
man.  There is such a mingling of the gay and cheerful,
with the sombre and melancholy, and so rapid are the
changes of feeling, that it is not wonderful, if we have
sometimes thought the French people as shallow and superficial in feeling, as they frequently are, in what are called
accomplishments.  But amid all the privations to which
the Frenchman may be reduced, his motto seems to be' nil desperandum."  I once encountered a Frenchman of
this character in Paris, and amid the glitter and festal
blaze of that theatre of fashion, he seemed as lonely as
some mouldering ruin of past centuries amid the gaudy
architecture of the new world.  Said he, —' No sar, I sal
not take any charitie- but I will tell you what I will go do.
I will go by ye river, and jump myself in, and they sal
see me no more nevare.  But, poor Marie! No! no! I
sal do no such sing. I sal no kill myself, for she sal then
starve; but, Monsieur, I sal starve myself, and I sal live
starving, and Marie sal fare magnifique, and I sal live
starving to be happy, and see her live as well. No, no, I
sal no kill myself."
In two hours from that time I met him again, his countenance wearing a smile of almost cheerfulness, apparently
having satisfied himself with the uncomfortable philosophy
of going without eating.
The French loafer in this city is, perhaps, after all,' of a
higher class than we have ever mentioned.  He saunters
along by himself, looking the picture of despair; he neither
solicits alms, nor does he complain to all. He has apparently made up his mind for his fate, and alternating between despair and brightening hope, he lingers out his career until relieved by the charity of others or by death.
The French loafer, by choice, is to be found in the




86.          LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
billiard room,-the Cafe,-the Saloon, and but too often
in the halls of our fashionable citizens, who, sometimes,
with a desire to improve acquaintance, and appear somewhat more aristocratic, endure the burden of their company, fascinated by that most magical and meaning word
a French Count. The first-mentioned lives at the billiard
table; he is usually an expert player, or, in other words, a
blackleg; and can win or lose as it suits the purposes of
the game.  He has usually a large dark eye, extensive
whiskers, and hair hanging down over his neck of the most
glorious description.  He utters more " Got dams"  and
"' sacre dieus" than would set up a whole committee of
politicians for twelve months.  The last-named order of
loafer, is the especial delight of ambitious mothers with
marriageable daughters, and the daughters, perhaps un.
unwilling to thwart the benevolent intentions of their
mammas are fascinated by the " dear, delightful Count,"
until some sensible brother, or upright, honest father, finds
the said Count to have been an impostor, and, after a few
parting hysterics, surrenders the toy, and wonders they
"ever could like him."
Before leaving Paris, a public dinner was tendered Mr.
Hill by his friends and admirers, and they included some
distinguished French gentlemen, almost all the American
and English residents, then sojourning in the gay capital.
Mr. H. with health improved and in gay spirits, returned
to London to fulfil an engagement at the Haymarket.  He
opened on this occasion with a new piece entitled a " Wife
for a Day," written expressly for him  by Mr. Bernard.
The play was eminently successful.  On the first night of
its representation, Mr. Hill was called out, and he announced the repetition of the piece every night until further




YANKEE HILL.                     87
notice, amidst the cheers and applause of the gratified audience. It ran without interruption for an entire month.
Whilst in London this season, he produced Seth Slope with
success. Mr. Hill paid ~30 sterling for this, but for each
of the pieces written for him by Mr. Bernard, he paid forty
pounds, or about two hundred dollars.  In the summer of
1839, Mr. Wallack, the manager of the National Theatre,
of New York, visited England, for the purpose of obtaining
attractions for his establishment. He met with Mr. Hill in
London, and over-persuaded him  to accept a starring
engagement at the National.  He was announced at that
establishment among the attractive stars secured by the
manager, to the great gratification of the play-going public.
He now completed all his arrangements, and left England,
in the British Queen. The late Mr. Price came passenger
with him, and, during the passage, used all his rhetoric to
induce Mr. Hill to engage for the Park, but without effect.
Mr. H. fulfilled his engagement with Mr. Wallack, much
to his own misfortune and loss, as it eventuated, in consequence of the destruction of the National by-fire. After
playing his term at the Park, he appeared in October, in
Boston, where he was received, after his absence, with the
utmost enthusiasm.  He left, after this, for Philadelphia,
and returned to Boston again in December. Mr. Hill used
to relate with great unction, the well-meant, but equivocally expressed good wishes, of an Irishman who used to
make the fires in his room at the hotel.  Mr. H. had been
in the habit of giring little presents and orders to the
theatre to his good-natured attendant, which won his heart.
He made him  such tremendous fires, that he almost roasted him.  When Mr. H. was leaving the Tremont House,
the Irishman was very officious in helping the porter with




83           LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
the luggage.  When the luggage was all arranged in the
coach, and Mr. Hill was seated, ready for the start, Pat
raised his cap from his head and exclaimed, " Good-bye to
ye, Mr. Hill-long life to yer honor; I hope I shall have
the pleasure of making fires for you hereafter."
In the Spring of 1841, whilst in Boston, he appeared as
Richard, in a burlesque on the tragedy. In the last scene,
the person playing Richmond accidentally gave Mr. Hill a
severe blow upon the face.  Thinking he was seriously
injured, he rushed from the stage: the prompter met him
at the side and said, "Mr. Hill, you did not die."  He
returned immediately, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I
beg pardon; I left out an important part of the piece; I
have quite forgotten to die."  He then took up a violin,
and playing a simple tune, laid himself down and died, as
calmly as though nothing had occurred to interfere with
the peace of his last end.  How common it is for men,
playing on the stage of real life, to forget the dying scene,
notwithstanding the promptings so plainly, forcibly, and
frequently given. The audience, on the occasion I have
just related, had too much of a fellow feeling in this forgetfulness of death, to feel aught but good humor at the
ready manner in which Mr. Hill repaired his error.
Mr. Hill was one of those few fortunate men who were
in the possession of a happy fireside.  No matter what
distance his duties may have placed him fiom his home,
what success crowned his efforts, what attractive gaieties
may have gained his passing admiration, his face always
turned to his own hearth, the East of his adoration. In
reading his. letters to his wife, bearing dates from  the
period of his first professional absence from home, to the
time when his fatal sickness seized him, I have been struck




YANKEE HILL.                    89
vith the almost romantic attachment which they exhibit
towards the partner of his bosom.  No professional triumph
or success seemed to be complete until Mrs. Hill had
marked them with her approval, and no disaster could long
depress his spirits when the smiles of his wife and children,
and the cheerful influence of his own fireside, were within
reach of his enjoyment.
Mr. Hill's home feelings never deserted him  through
life: his attachment to his wife and children knew  no
abatement.  He was gifted with an uncommon flow of animal spirits, and he took as much delight in projecting
little entertainments for his children, or winning a laugh
from his wife by some grotesque assumption of character,
as he did in laboring for the amusement of the brilliant
audiences which assembled to witness his efforts.
In writing the biography of a man, the task is but half
completed if only the great points of his career are recorded.  In circumstances likely to come under public
notice, men are on their guard, and act with caution.  We
can judge of the ability of an actor on the stage, but it is
behind the scenes that we must go to study the character
of the man.  To say that Mr. Hill was a great comedian,
that he personated this or the other character with exquisite truthfulness, only excites the curiosity of the thinking,
to know how he appeared, acted, thought and spoke when
he was himself. The world is very apt to think and do as
the countryman, who, when thrown accidentally in company with a celebrated actor, asked him  "to be funny,"
and was wonderfully disappointed to find that the comic
actor had his serious and thoughtful moments.
In all that related to the higher duties, which devolve
upon a father towards his children, Mr. Hill was seriously




90            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
impressed.  Their moral and  intellectual education received an attention commensurate with its importance, and
although he would often enter into their sports and entertain them with odd personations and imitations, they knew
very well no license, if unseemly, or disobedient conduct
could be drawn from this.
In a profession surrounded with such temptations to
convivial enjoyment, as is that of the actor, Mr. Hill must
have been more than human, if he could at all times have
avoided a participation in them.  An attendance upon
public festivities and private parties are among the sacrifices which an eminent actor must make; and I have often
thought, that too little allowance is made for the apparently
gay life the actor sometimes leads, considering the urgent
demands continually made upon his time and company.
An actor lives upon the approbation of the public, and
although he may desire to live in private ever so much, he
must take the public by the hand, off as well as on the
stage; and he is thus, perforce, compelled to submit to pursuits and pleasures foreign alike to his tastes and inclinations.  Mr. Hill, would, at all times, if left to his own selection, have preferred the quiet joys of his own fireside to
the most sumptuous entertainment ever offered for his acceptance.
The approbation of his wife was to him a sine qua non
to every novelty he intended to produce before the public;
and, when on the first trial of a new entertainment, he had
Mrs. Hill among his auditors, so placed, that he could see
her, he was perfectly happy if she seemed pleased and
entertained. Had Mr. H. been any other sort of man than
what he was,-if you please, dissipated, thoughtless, gay,
-the satisfaction he. felt, simply from the approbation of




YANKEE TILL                    91
the partner of his life, displayed an integrity and soundness
of heart which would safely guard the fireside from the
invasion of evil influences.
Mr. Hill was very fond of taking his family by surprise
after an absence, and would sometimes appear at the door
of his dwelling so disguised, that even his own children
knew him not.  He used to tell an incident of this kind
with great relish, because, in this case, he not only deceived
his children, but his wife, and this was a triumph not to be
held lightly.  He went down town one evening, on some
business, which detained him  until after dark.  When he
reached his home he gently opened the door with his latch
key, closed it and stood quietly in the hall. It was but
the work of a moment to disarrange his dress, crush his
hat down upon his head, and assume the reckless dishabille
of a drunken man.  He then made some sort of noise to
call the attention of the family to the fact that some one
was there. Mrs. Hill sent her little boy to see who was
at the door. It was but a minute, and the little fellow returned in alarm, telling his Ma, that there was a drunken
man standing in the hall. Mrs. Hill, her servant girl and
the children were alone in the house, and as drunken men
are not apt to-be over nice and delicate in their conduct, it
will be admitted, that such an intrusion was well calculated
to produce alarm.  A council of war was held for a moment, and it was resolved, boldly to face the enemy. Female arms are the most powerful weapons in the world in
the wars of love and friendship, but they are powerless in
defensive attacks, so that it was deemed prudent in the
present instance that the alarmed family should die, at
least, with harness on their backs, and each seizing upon
the family arms, represented here by shovel, tongs, poker,




92            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
broom, &c., the army marched up  stairs to the attack.
Mrs. Captain Hill courageously led the way: she was the
first to mount the stairs from  the basement; on reaching
the top she paused to collect her forces: this done, she
marched boldly on, resolving to do or die. It was no false
alarm; there, sure enough, stood the enemy. The foe was
struck with amazement at the belligerent attitude of his
own household, but unable longer to resist the ludicrous
position of his family, he burst out laughing and declared
himself vanquished.  Arms were recovered, and all joined
in the mirth inspired by the trick.
It would be a tedious as well as unprofitable pursuit, to
follow Mr. Hill through the various stages of his theatrical
career, after his return from England, to the time of his
decease, although embracing a period of nearly ten years.
He appeared, again and again, in all the principal cities of
the Union, pausing occasionally at some country place,
generally at the earnest solicitation of the inhabitants, to
relieve the tedium of their country-town life with his eccentricities and drolleries.  For several years, dating from
1840, theatrical affairs throughout the whole Union were
in a very depressed condition.  The re-action which followed the excitement caused by Fanny Ellsler, the ruin
produced to managers by a persistence in the starring
system, the lecture and concert mania which prevailed for
several years, all tended to depress dramatic affairs. From
1840 to 1845, Mitchell's Olympic was the only theatre in
the city of New York, in a prosperous condition.  The
Park opened and closed with convulsive efforts at re-animation, until it fell, exhausted by its own efforts. It passed
from  the hands of Mr. Simpson, who had controlled its
fortunes for nearly thirty  years, into the hands of Mr.




YANKEE HILI.                   93
Hamblin, who, in his turn, was relieved of its weight by a
fortunate accident, which burnt down the house, without
burning his fingers.  Mr. Hill appeared occasionally in
this city during these times of depression, and with quite
as much, if not more success, than other stars who appeared
at that period.
In the years 1844 and 1845 he resided in Fourth Avenue, near Union Square, New York.  Returning home one
evening very late, after performing, he was startled by the
sobs of a female he saw sitting on the stoop of a house,
close by where he was passing. She was weeping bitterly.
He was not the man to pass heedlessly along, leaving a
fellow-creature by the wayside in trouble, without making
an effort to allay, or to relieve it. He questioned her of
the cause of her distress.  She did not seem disposed to
reply, until, at length, overcome by the kind tones in which
she was addressed, told her sad, but, alas, too common
story.  She had been enticed to the city by a treacherous
villain, under a promise of marriage. He took her to a
house of infamy, on their arrival in the city, and left her
there alone, promising only to be absent long enough to
transact some necessary business in another part of the
city.
Ere he came back, the poor girl had learned the character of the house in which her deceitful lover had left her.
Without  waiting his  re-appearance, and without the
knowledge of the degraded inmates of the house, she made
her escape, and had been wandering about the city until
Mr. Hill, fortunately met her.  He himself was a father,
and with a father's care conducted the poor wanderer to
his own dwelling, where she received, in the kindness of
Mrs. Hill, another evidence that the race of good Sama



94            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
ritans is not quite extinct in the world.  The next morning Mr. Hill sent the girl home to her parents, who were
residing in Middletown, Connecticut.
On the 1st of January, 1847, Mr. H. gave an entertainment at the Broadway Tabernacle, to a very large and
brilliant audience; numbering, as I am  informed, about
three thousand persons. In the opening of the same year,
he went to Batavia, N. Y., to fulfil a contract made between him and a gentleman of that town, for the countryseat now occupied by the widow, Mrs. Hill, and her interesting family. The last theatre in which Mr. Hill appeared
was Mitchell's Olympic. He played a starring engagement
here of twelve nights, drawing excellent houses.  I saw
him  several times on this occasion, and thought I had
never seen him play with more freshness and spirit. During the last twelve months he employed his time professionally, in giving lectures here and there, returning as
often as he could to his house in Batavia, loaded with
golden profits.  He was essentially a domestic man, and
never was so happy as when in the midst of his family.
Without any pharisaical ostentation of religion, Mr. Hill
was careful to inculcate in the members of his family a due
observance of their religious duties. There are a great
many unchristian professors of Christianity, who are unable to reconcile, in their austere and contracted minds, the
existence of a religious sentiment with the pursuits of the
actor.  They judge him as they themselves would not like
to be judged, viz. with the mask on. They do not follow
the player to his home, and watch him in the bosom of his
family.  They take no count of the private bending of the
knee, the humble supplications which he offers at the footstool of God's Almighty throne, but taking him as he ap



YANKEE HILL.                     95
pears in the midst of his vocation, fling him to perdition
without hope or charity.  I do not claim for Mr. Hill that
he was what is appropriately enough, I think, called a
professing Christian, that is, he did not
"Display to congregations wide
Devotions every grace, except the heart;"
but he was a practical one in charity and good feeling
towards his fellows. He had, besides, a sustaining confidence in the providence of God.  No trouble ever weighed
upon him, but he found in this reliance a cheerful hope of
speedy relief. This feeling, whether a superstition of religion, rather than a principle evolved by a reasoning faith,
always kept him up in the hour of trial, and consoled him
under every difficulty.  This feeling grew with his growth,
and, during the last few months of his existence, he was
seriously impressed by his spiritual condition.  Whatever
appeared in his entertainment, which could, by any possibility be construed into anything offensive to the purest
taste, was carefully excluded, and he even went so far as
to ask several eminent clergymen, if they saw anything in
his entertainments, " contra bonos mores."
In May, 1848, Mr. Hill appeared in Brooklyn, before
immense audiences.  He was always a favorite in that city,
and ever attracted the best people of the place.  In the
summer he played also at Sharon Springs, and then in
August, visited Saratoga for the purpose of lecturing to
the fashionables collected there. He was taken sick soon
after his arrival.  He had advertised to appear on a certain evening, and, although it would have been better had
he broken his faith in this case, and nursed himself up




96            LIFE AND RECOLLECTIONS OF
for future labors, he could not make up his mind to do so,
and after consulting his physician, who consented to the
step, he left his sick bed and proceeded to the lecture
room.  He was behind the time advertised for his commencement, and when he entered he was greeted with
marked signs of disapprobation.  He mildly rebuked the
audience, by explaining the cause of his detention, and
more in sorrow than in anger, remarked, that in the course
of his varied career, he had often waited with patience for
an audience, but he had never till this moment kept an
audience waiting. The audience felt the rebuke, and, with
ready contrition, cheered and applauded him  then and
during the whole evening.  How little do the audience
know, or even care, for the suffering which the actor sometimes endures, when he is most successful in contributing
to their enjoyment.  The bills of the day are out, the
theatre is filled with beauty and fashion, and the entertainment must come off though the principal actor may be
tortured in body, ready to sink with sickness, or perchance,
as I have known, torn from the bedside of a sick wife, or
dying child, to fret his hour upon the stage, convulse
others with laughter, whilst his own tortured heart was
swelling with agony, almost to bursting.  Mr. Hill left the
lecture-room for his bed, from which he never rose again
in health. He was ailing for some time before his symptoms became so alarming as to render it necessary to send
for Mrs. Hill: at length this became necessary. She received the sad missive, and hastened to the couch of her
beloved husband.  Her presence was so inspiring in its
influence upon him, that there seemed a distant hope that
he might yet rally and be restored to her; but alas! such
hopes speedily vanished and gave way to the solemn con



YANKEE HILL.                     97
viction that his battle of life was fast drawing to a close.
Mr. Hill himself had been for some time under the impression, that he should not live long, and when he was attacked
with  the bilious diarrhea, he  never flattered himself
with the hope of recovery.  The Rev. Dr. Milledolar
payed him frequent visits during his sickness, in fact, was
daily with him until his death.  Mrs. Hill never left his
bedside for a moment, and frequently, when the labor of
speaking was too much for him, would he turn his still
sparkling and expressive eye towards her, and in looks, tell
of the love and affection of his heart. He retained the full
possession of his senses until a few hours of his death.
The sad, awful moment at length arrived, when the ties
which bound him to this world were to be unloosed, and
the spirit set free. Mrs. Hill sat by his side. He appeared
to be calmly sleeping. A soft smile played upon his lips.
His breathing was gentle  as an infant's.  She, whose
heart had known no other lord, whose affections had known
no alteration save in increase of growth and strength, sat
sadly by and watched his sweet and gentle slumbering,
and could  hardly realize that death could be so near.
The lips parted, a gentle sigh escaped, and the "wheel at
the cistern had ceased to turn for ever."
He died on the 27th of September, 1848, in the 40th
year of his age. He was buried in the cemetery of Saratoga.
The Rev. Mr. Babcock, of Ballston, performed the funeral ceremonies at the house, and those at the grave side
were conducted by a chaplain of the order of Odd Fellows,
of which institution Mr. Hill was a worthy member.
5








ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.
99








MR. HILL VISITS WASHINGTON.
IN 1846, Mr. Hill paid a visit to Washington City.  ie
was there during the excitement which prevailed upon the
Oregon question. It would have been impossible, perhaps,
for a man of much less excitable temperament than Mr.
Hill, to have been in Washington at that time, and have
escaped the patriotic epidemic which then prevailed to
such an alarming extent. His patriotism became rampant,
and he opened the flood-gates of his eloquence, and poured
forth such a powerful stream, that all who opposed his
views were nigh swept from the face of the earth. The
speech which he made in Washington, night after night, to
immense audiences, will be found carefully reported below.
Daniel Webster might possibly have made a more solid
speech, Clay a more eloquent one, John Quincy Adams,
one more fruitful of sage experience; but neither of them.
I will venture to say, could have made one quite like it.
But let the reader judge for himself.
SPEECH ON THE OREGON QUESTION.
"Whoia! here I am, and intend, in a very few and
expressive terms, to speak my sentiments. Mr. Speaker,
101




102                  YANKEE HILL.
I have come all the way from Oregon, to see, in behalf of
my afflicted neighbors, who live a considerable distance
apart, and I want to know, what in thunder you're about
here, in this comfortable location, while your fellow-countrymen, who are not allowed to emigrate north of the
Columbia River, on account of a raging he-calf who is
bla-ting on the other side; but, thunder and squashes! can
this longer be borne? No! Can the free inhabitants, who
have emigrated there with the full belief that protection
was to be extended to them from the great republic, bear
the yoke of British law and British tyranny? No, sir! we
expect you to guard us from the sneers and insults of savages, subject and give us aid, and to plant the standard of
our country immutably on the 54-40, and, if anything, a
leetle north.  Powder and gun-flints! must we give up
what is clearly proved by many of our great men-and
though not set down in Webster's Spelling  Book-to
belong to us; will any man, who has pure American blood
coursing through his veins, say, let it go,'cause we're
afraid to fight?  No, sir! no! it is not in the natur of
Liberty boys to allow any usurpation of our rights: let us
be guided by Crockett's motto,' First, be sure you're right,
then go ahead.' I've killed four horses, worn out three
pair of trousers and a pair of saddle-bags, besides spending
all my money, to come here, and I must know before I go
back, which way the cat jumps, or both countries shall hear
from me, to their entire satisfaction, sooner or later.  I've
left my grandmother, father, wife, three children, six cows,
two hosses, eighteen sheep, a gross of turkeys, geese, hens,
chickens, a black dog, and a gray cat, who fondly look for
my return, and I wish to know, without the shadow of a
doubt, whether we are to be protected, or not, by this




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            103
government, or are we tew be trampled under the iron
hoofs of Europe's roaring Bull.  We are strong and true at
heart for our country, but we are as yet too few in number to offer just resistance.  Give us a chance for a few
years, however, and we will then look out for ourselves.
Yet the time is not far off, when the locomotive will be
steaming its way to the Rocky Mountains, with a mighty
big train of cars running after it. Yes, the whistle of the
engine will echo through the South-west Pass, and sharply
hint to the free people of that great territory the approach
of hundreds and thousands tew, who are to be their neighbors.  No, sir, the time is not far distant, when our commerce with China will equal that of all the world; when
the Pacific Ocean will be crossed with as much ease as the
Frog pond on Boston Common.  Yes, Mr. Speaker, as my
eloquent friend from the Hoosier State remarks,' Men of
blood, and friends of General Washington, and that old
hoss, General Jackson, I want your attention. Lightnin'
has burst upon us; and Jupiter has poured out the Ile of
his wrath.  Thunder has broke loose and slipped its cable,
and is now rattling down the mighty Valley of the Mississippi, accompanied by the music of the alligator's hornpipe.
Citizens and fellers; on the bloody ground on which our
fathers catawampously poured out their claret free as ile,
to enrich the soil over which we now honor and watch
with hyena eyes, let the catamount of the inner varmint
loose and prepare the engines of vengeance, for the long
looked-for day has come. The crocodile of the Mississippi
has gone into his hole, and the sun that lit King David
and his host across the Atlantic Ocean, looks down upon
the scene, and drops a tear to its memory.' I am with
you; and while the stars of Uncle Sam, and the stripes of




104                  YANKEE HILL.
his country, triumph and float in the breeze, whar, whar is
the craven, low-lived, chicken-bred, toad-hoppin', redmouthed mother's son of ye who will not raise the beaconlight of triumph, smouse the citadel-of the aggressor, and
press onward to liberty and glory?  Wha-ah! Hurrah!
where's the inimy?"




ANECDOTES AND IN(11D)ENTS.            105
THE MUSICAL FAMILY.
IN the fall of 1843, Mr. Hill was travelling one night
through the woods of Georgia in a stage coach.  It was
pitchy dark, and the driver, mistaking the road, left the
right track and upset the coach.  There were quite a number of passengers, and among them a very corpulent Alabamian planter.  Fortunately, Mr. Hill had matches.  A
light was quickly struck, and the passangers soon got out
of the coach in which the shock had huddled them in a
heap.  The fat planter caused some little trouble in lifting
out his unwieldy carcass.  None of them  were seriously
hurt.  Mr. Hill always carried a sort of medicine chest
with him, and he was enabled to administer to the bruised
and wounded secundem artem. The kindness and attention
he displayed to his fellow-travellers on this occasion, so
won upon the feelings of the Alabamian, that he insisted,
and would take no denial, on Mr. Hill going home with him.
The planter was such a good-natured, kind-hearted, jovial
fellow, that Mr. Hill could not resist his importunities, and
so consented to accompany him home.  He was well received at the hospitable mansion of the planter.  He was
a widower, with a grown up son and daughter, his housekeeper, a maiden sister.  The maiden sister was particularly gracious to Mr. Hill, for it was not often that a strange
male critter found his way to their secluded fireside.  In
5*




1036                YANKEE HILL.
the evening, when the wine had circulated a little freely,
the host proposed to have some music.  " Come, sister,"
said he, "sing Mr. Hill,'Is there a heart that never
loved.' "
"Oh, brother," replied the ancient maiden, screwing her
mouth into a pucker, and turning her head affectedly, " I
really can't."
" No can'ts here, sister; you don't want Mr. Hill to
find out how old you are. Come, you must sing, for I want
to show him that we are rather a musical family; so come,
tune up."
Overcome by her brother's peculiarly persuasive and
eloquent manner, the maiden lady gave another twist of her
mouth, and commenced in a sharp, shrill voice" Is there a heart that never loved?"
The key in which she sang, might have been the cellar
key, for any resemblance it bore to anything appertaining
to music. She had not sang half the first stanza, when her
brother interrupted her.
"Sister," said he, "you are all wrong:-my son, see it
you can succeed better."
This young man was a bony gawky, of about seventeen
years of age.  His voice was a mixed breed; one something between a manly bass and childish treble.  He
began"Is there a heart that never loved?"
The first three or four words were sung in a deep bass,
and the rest of the line in a high tenor.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               107
C Pshaw," said the father, " why you can't sing it either.
Are you frightened at Mr. Hill?  Hear me, I'll try"
"Is there a heart that never loved.
Or felt soft woman's sighs."
The old man puffed and blowed through the entire song,
much to his own satisfaction.
"There, Mr. Hill, what do you think of that?"
" It is very well, sir, but it is not exactly as I have been
in the habit of hearing it."
"Indeed! then, Mr. Hill, I wish you would let me hear
your way."
" Mr. Hill then commenced,
"' Is there a heart that never loved?"
and gave it, of course, correctly.
" Well, well, that is all very well, and very nice, I dare
say, but I think I can do that song pretty well for a bass
voice; but, lord! it's all a matter of taste; some would
like yours and some mine.  Mr. Hill, won't you tell sister
one of your funny stories?"
" Oh do! he, he, he!" sniggered the maiden.  "Oh,
do!"
Mr. Hill looked her earnestly in the face and began:
" Did you ever hear of Deb Hawkins?"
" No, sir, he, he, he!" said the old lady, unconscious
that Mr. Hill had commenced a story.  "No, sir, I never
heard of her in all my life."
"She is a shocking nice gal.  Shouldn't wonder if she
could make pumpkin pies good enough to make a fellow's




108                  YANKEE HILL.
mouth water.  You see, I once courted her a little, just
to see how it would feel."
"He, he, he!" tittered the old woman, her sympathies
all excited.
*" Says I to her one night, Deb, ain't you goin' to sit down
on my knee nor nothin'. (The maiden lady put her handkerchief to her face.) Says Deb, putting her hand over
her eyes,'Oh, git eout, Joe,' so I tuck hold on her, and
hauled her down.  She squirmed round, but I held on of
course,'cause I know'd it was the natur of the critter."' He, he, he! What a funny man you are, Mr. Hill."
"By and by, Deb got quieted down a spell, and took a
kiss jest as easy."
"Oh, Mr. Hill, he, he, he!"
" Oh, she was an all fired nice gal, tew."
"Did she marry? he, he, he!" inquired the lady.' I was goin' to say, she was an all fired nice gal to kiss,
but phew! what a temper!  It got so hot sometimes, it
burnt a hole clean through her good manners."
So passed the evening at the house of the Alabamian.
Mr. Hill was repaid for the misery of being obliged to listen to their musical efforts by being furnished with the material of an entertaining imitation, which was received by
his audiences with great relish.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              109
THE NERVOUS ARTIST.-THE GAMBLER
RESCUED.
Mr. Hill's third visit to New Orleans was not only highly
successful in a theatrical point of view, but replete with
incidents of a character which Mr. Hill remembered with
great satisfaction. During his passage down the Mississippi with Mr. Jarvis, an artist from Louisville, they became
so attached to each other, that on their arrival in New
Orleans, they engaged rooms in company.  The Crescent
City, at that time, bore quite a different reputation from that
which it enjoys at present.  Persons were frequently
knocked down, and robbed in the streets, and mysterious
assassination added its horrors to scenes of brawl and
rowdyism.  Mr. Jarvis was a man of an exceedingly nervous temperament, and timid to a degree.  He was tremblingly alive to the danger which, as he supposed, beset the
stranger at every turn in New Orleans, and always went
armed to the teeth, although it is very doubtful if he could
have mustered up sufficient nerve to use his weapons, had
their use been needed.  Besides Bowie knives, pistols, and
other playthings of this character, he had a dog, and although it was one of the smallest kind of pet poodles, it
was quite large enough to suggest to the ready mind of
Mr. Hill, a sort of placebo to his friend's sense of danger.
He very seriousl printed a placard containing the follow



110                   YANKEE HILL.
ing ominous hint —" Take care of the Dog," which he
posted up on the outside of their room door. The experiment succeeded to admiration, having only one little drawback, for it scared away friends, as well as less welcome
intruders; for, of course, neither friend nor foe could tell
from instinct, the size and ferocity of the animal of whom
they  were notified to beware.   Things went on very
smoothly, and Mr. Jarvis' throat was still uncut, and his
wallet, safe with its contents, whatever they might have
been, when, in the dead hour of the night, when all the
world and his wife were fast asleep, Mr. Jarvis was awakened
by heavy groans, which seemed to come from  above, below, and all around him. Trembling with fear and agitatation, he called upon his friend Hill, in the meantime
taking his pistols from under his pillow, "Hill! Hill!"
cried Jarvis —" for the love of heaven, wake up, or we shall
be murdered in our beds!"
" What's the matter?" asked Mr. H.
"Matter! matter enough! I thought we should not
get out of this infernal city without being  robbed or
murdered."
Mr. Hill scarcely comprehending what was the matter,
nevertheless got out of bed; the valiant artist did the
same, and handing a Bowie knife to Mr. Hill, courageously
led the way to the top of the landing, with the fierce determination of quietly settling the hash of the supposed
intruder.
" Stop! stop!" said Mr. Hill, " not so fast; if my ears
do not deceive me, the groans proceed from  that room
down stairs, and are the cries of some person in distress."
"Nonsense," said Jarvis, " that's a mere ruse, and if
we are not careful, we shall hoth be murdered."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               11
"I am so convinced," replied Mr. Hill, "of the reality of
my own suspicions, that I am determined to go to the room
and ascertain the truth."
"Don't be rash," urged Jarvis, "they  certainly will
have your life if you go.  Let us shoot them down."
Heedless of the caution, Mr. Hill hurried down stairs,
leaving his friend Jarvis at the head of the steps shivering
with cold and fear, with nothing on but his shirt, and a
pair of large pistols in his hands. Mr. Hill soon reached
the chamber from  whence the groans proceeded.   Sans
ceremony, he opened the door and went in, and there, instead of encountering thieves and assassins, he found a
poor woman suffering a maternal agony, without friends or
attendance.  He returned, with the view of sending Mr.
Jarvis for assistance, whom he found still at his post, his
pistols pointing down the stairs.
" Remove your pistols, Jarvis; don't fire at me; I'm
not going to harm you."'6 Well, well," said Jarvis, " have you found the villains?
Where are they?  Blow their brains out."
" You are quite mistaken," said Mr. Hill; "it is a poor
woman sick and in need of immediate relief.  Go to the
landlady, and tell her to prepare some nourishment, and
hasten to the servants' room.  Then you retire to your
room, and I will attend to the sufferer until she gets relief."
It is hardly necessary to say that it was fortunate for the
poor woman that Mr. Hill knew of her distress, for it was
not in his nature to leave anything undone which could
contribute to h;er comfort. Twelve months after this event,
Mr. Hill again visited New  Orleans.  He was walkitlng
down the st, et one day, arm-in-arm  with a gentleman.




112                 YANKEE HILL.
when he saw a decently dressed Irishman and his wife
hastening towards him.
" Oh! sure, Mr. Hill," said the woman, "and it's mesilf
that's glad to see you; and isn't this a beautiful child?"
" Not a doubt about it, my good woman; but what have
I to do with it?"
Mr. Hill had quite forgotten the circumstance I have
related above.
"Is it what you have got to do wid it?" said the woman-" sure it would not have been here, and the image
of his father, if you hadn't had something to do wid it."
Mr. Hill began to feel uncomfortable, for he found his
friend giving him some significant digs in the ribs.
" My dear woman," said Mr. H.-" you must take me
for somebody else."
" Divil a bit! D'ye think I'd ever forget the face of
you? Can I ever forget when you found me alone, and got
nurses and doctors to wait upon me, when I hadn't a
friend in the wide world. Mistake you for somebody else!
I'd never forget yo i 6il I die."
The circumstances of the case were recalled to Mr.
Hill's mind, and putting  i i lie present into the child's
tiny fist, wished the grateful couple farewell.  I don't
know how he managed to satisfy his friend's mind, but this
I know, his own was free from anything but a pleasant recollection of a circumstance which enabled him to render a
kind service to a fellow-creature in distress.
On Mr. Hill's first visit to New-Orleans, he formed an
intimacy with a Mr. S    -, whom he found a gay-hearted,
happy, and intelligent companion. On his third visit he
was grieved to find, that the friend he had left so buoyant
i1ad cgay, was bowed down  \ itL'i:one inward sorrow. Instead




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            113
of, as formerly, seeking the society of Mr. H., he avoided
it. Mr. Hill was distressed at this, for he knew of no circumstance-having a sincere regard for his friend-which
would justify this distant coolness on the part of Mr. S-.
He resolved to fathom  the mystery. From  some little
things he had observed, he formed a suspicion of the cause
of his friend's depression, and he made up his mind, the
first moment he was disengaged, to inquire further into the
matter. On one of his off nights, he called at the residence
of his friend, but he was told by the black boy, that
"Massa was not at home, but that Missus was, and would
be berry glad to see him." Mr. Hill, without hesitation,
followed the servant to the drawing-room; he there found
Mrs. S-  in tears. Mr. H., taking the privilege of an
old friend, asked her the cause of her sadness.
"Oh! Mr. Hill," she replied, " I am very unhappy; I
have not seen Charles since yesterday morning.  He now
frequently leaves me days together, and seems so altered,
that I am almost heart-broken."
" Nay, nay, my dear madam," said Mr. Hill, "do not
despond; it may be nothing but a temporary estrangement;
some passing excitement which keeps him away. Be of
good heart, all will yet be right. I made up my mind to
discover the cause of his avoidance of me, and now that he
is estranged from you and his home, I have a double incentive to use every exertion to reclaim the truant."
With such blessings as a young, affectionate and confiding, but neglected wife, alone could call down upon one
promising to restore all she held dear in life, Mr. Hill departed to put his plans in execution.
In a remote corner of the city of New-Orleans, was
situated one of those fashionable dens of vice, where men




114  YANKEE HILL.
staked honor, virtue, and fortune, on the turning of a die;
where swindlers were educated, and assassins learned their
trade.  It was midnight; and at the faro-table stood one
conspicuous from the rest, whose face wore an expression
of unspeakable anguish.  His last counter was in his hand,
and thoughts of home, of wife and children, came crowding upon his distracted brain; but alas! instead of staying
his progress, the ruin he had brought upon his family, but
urged him  on.  Fortune might change, and if once redeemed, he would forswear for ever the maddening game.
Just as he was putting down his last stake, a stranger enveloped in a large cloak, his face almost hidden with a pair
of large, black whiskers, and his head covered with a fur
cap of most uncouth appearance, rushed into the room. He
looked more like a demon than a human being, and the effect
of his appearance not only suspended the games, but
seemed  to paralyze the players, for "conscience makes
cowards of us all." In the confusion which followed this
sudden intrusion, of they knew not whom, the lights were
put out.  Mr. S, for it was he who stood so conspicuously at the faro-table, found himself grasped by the arm,
and led forcibly away.  He was too much dismayed by tho
suddenness of the whole affair to offer resistance, and he
went whither he was led.  When he was in the street, the
lamp disclosed to him that he was in the hands of the
stranger whose sudden appearance had produced so much
commotion in the gambling-house.  It was but the work
of a moment for the stranger to take the whiskers from his
face, and reveal to the astonished gamester the face of his
friend, Mr. Hill.
" Now, sir," said Mr. Hill, sternly, " I hope you have had




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             115
enough of that infernal place, and will never return to it
again."
Overwhelmed with shame and oonfusion, it was some
time before S-   could reply.
"Oh, God!" said he at length, " what shall I do?  I
have lost every cent I had in the world. I never can look
upon my wife again."
" You must see your wife, and that without delay, if you
wish me to stand by you in this hour of distress.  But
come-let us hasten on, or we may be overtaken by some
of your associates, and I fancy, from the slight glimpse I
had of them, neither of us would be very safe in their
hands. Before we meet your wife, tell me, Charles, what
you intend to do; will you, if I refund the money, you have
lost to-night, promise on your honor, never to set foot in a
gambling-house again?"
" I will, George, my more than brother," replied S-,
overcome by the kindness which offered redemption. " I
will do all that man can do, not only to recover your confidence but to deserve it."
" Enough; I believe you," said Mr. Hill. "Now I have
a little explanation to make.  A day or two after my arrival in this city, I was persuaded by a friend to visit the
same hell which you have just left. As I went in, I thought
I saw your figure retreating from the room. I considered
the matter well, and the more I thought of it, the stronger
became the impression that it was you whom I saw. This
gave me the key to your mysterious avoidance of me, and
I determined to seek you there: the result you know.
But to return to my own visit.  You know the arts they
employ to gain the confidence of the unsuspecting. and
how frequently they will permit the man who is known to




116                YANKEE HILL.
have means, to win. They tried this decoy upon me, and
when I left the room that evening, I was the winner of three
hundred dollars. I purposed to give this amount to some
charitable institution-it is yours, Charles, and as much
more is at your service as you staked at' that desperate
game, last evening."
S-  was too much overcome to speak his thanks. He
had in some measure conquered his emotion by the time he
reached home.  They found Mrs. S-  sitting up, watching the return of her truant husband. Mr. Hill did not
give time for reproaches, but pushing Mr. S - into the
arms of his wife, said, " There, madam, not a word, there will
be no more absence from home-all is right.  Now, good
night-God bless you."
Mr. S — is now the father of three blooming children,
and one of the most prosperous merchants of New-Orleans.




ANECDOTrS AND INCIDENTS.            117
A MEETING UPON THE SUBJECT OF THE
PUBLIC PRESS.
I DO not know, whether or not, the characters which
figure below, at a meeting held for the Quixotic purpose of
putting down the Press, are the same who recently met in
New-York, to devise means of stopping the issue of Sunday
papers, but if they are not, they might readily be mistaken
for them, only the error would involve a degree of flattery
which I do not think the latter deserve. Mr. Hill attended
the meeting, of which the following is his faithful report.
Mr. Obadiah Sleek, who presided on this occasion, said:
" Brethren, we have met here for the purpose of suppressing the Press. There are many articles in the daily
newspaper very injurious to the morals of the rising gene.ration, particularly the young, and being impressed with
that impression, I wish to express myself to you, and have
it impressed on your minds in the most pressing manner."
The Chairman having delivered himself of this impressive
speech, sat down.  Brother Longjaw now addressed the
meeting:
" I have heard the very eloquent and lengthy remarks
of Mr. Sleek, and I must say I entirely coincide with his
views. There are a great number of persons in the westerly diggins of our town, who coincide with him tew, and




118                YANKEE HILL.
they told me to tell you that they entirely coincided with
you in your views, let them be what they might."
Oziah Slimbrain, he spoke:
"Mr. Cheerman, I don't think as how I ought to say
anything,'cause I've got nothing to say; but if all men
who spoke at public meetings, didn't speak till they had
something to say, speakers would be rather scarce. I goes
in agin papers: what is the good of'em to a man as can't
read? I took hold of one once, but I got it wrong eend
up.  In my young days larning was dear, and I didn't go
to school but one day in my life, and that was in the
evening, and the master was not there, all of which convinces me papers should be put down.  Our folks at hum
would have all come to this meeting, but they've been busy
making cherry rum,, and they throwed the cherries out behind the barn, and Jedide and the hogs have been eating
them, and we've got the darn'dest lot of corned pork you
ever did see. Jedide said it wasn't eating the cherries, but
swallowing the stones, that corned the hogs. Aunt Jerusha
was a coming to this meeting, but she's got the measles,
and she was afraid of making a breaking out in the meeting, but I made made up my mind I'd come myself, so I
hitched the old mare up to the waggon, but she came
along so tarnal slow, that I licked her, and then she slewed
tile old waggon right up agin the fence all to smash. I
tied the tarnal old critter up with her blind eye to the road,
so that she'll think she's bang up agin the fence, and stay
there just as quiet. I don't care now, however, for I have
got here a darned sight quicker than I should if I'd driv
her. Now I've got here, I don't know what to say agin
the papers, more than I think they should be put down. I
see you are a putting down names; you may put down all




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.          119
our family-Jedide, Jeruse, and the hogs, if you like —
don't care a darn."
Mr. Slam next rose to address the meeting. It is impossible to repeat the substance of this gentleman's remarks,
He appeared to have got up in a passion. Every word he
uttered was followed by a savage blow upon the table, and
when he got very much excited, he would strike it a dozen
times, speaking all the while, but the noise he made -completely drowned his words.,The following is as near a
report as we can make in writing:'Mr. Chairman, (bang!) I presume (bang! bang!)yes, sir, I repeat it-(bang! bang!) sir, (bang!) certainly
they should be put down-(bang! bang! bang!) that is
what-(bang!) with these few remarks, I submit-(bang!)
my resolution."
John Holdtight spoke nextMr. Ch-Ch-Chairman, I-I-I- el-abor under ss-su-such di-di-di-difficulties in sp-sp —-speaking,
that I-I bul-bul-bul-ieve I sh-sh-shall say noth
-noth-nothing about it."
A stranger got up" Mr. Chairman: John Hopper told me to say to you
that he was very sorry he could not attend this meeting.
John Hopper's horse not being shod, he could not attend
this meeting. If it had been shod, John Hopper would
have attended this meeting; but by reason of John Hopper's horse not being shod, he could not come. The man
who shods John Hopper's horse being out on a drunken
frolic, he could not get his horse shod, and consequently
John Hopper's horse not being shod, he could not attend
this meeting."




12(0               YANKEE HILL.
An effeminate voice from the back part of the meeting
was then heard" Mr. Chairman: I don't feel altogether clean-handed. I
have been a good deal lately in the habit of reading the
papers, and I say, I don't feel altogether clean-handed. I
have been in the habit of reading the weeklies, being more
appropriate to a man like me of a weakly constitution. I
have known some articles appearing therein, which ought
to have been thrown out, and I don't feel altogether cleanhanded."
The Chairman now spoke:
"I find my brethren, that my views have been completely carried out, and when I have stated what I am
about to state, that I should mention that I mean to state
this meeting is adjourned."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            121
COUSIN  GUSS.
"' WELL, how de dew? I'm right glad to see you, I swow.
I rather guess I can say suthin' about the Revolution business, putty good varsion, tew, by jingo.  My father, old
Josh Addams, had his fist in it: any on you know him?
Old Josh Addams, as well known as the Schuylkill waterworks. He was born in Boston: he didn't die there,'oause he died in Philadelphia.  He used to wear an old
genuine'76 coat, little cut down to suit the fashion, made
it a razee. One might have known the old man a mile off.
If it hadn't been for Cousin Guss, he'd have been livin to
this ere day. You may see Guss in Chestnut street,-any
of you know him?-dressed like a peacock, and got whiskers big enough to stuff a sofa bottom.  He went down
t'other day, to see the wild beasts in 5th street; jest as he
was comin' away, he met a hull squad of little children a
comin' in: when they saw  Cousin Guss, if they didn't
squeal like ten thousand devils. The old man says, what's
the matter, young ones? Oh dear, papa, see, they've let
one of the monkeys loose.  Cousin Guss didn't show his
face in Chestnut street for a week.  Guss telled the old
man he must have his coat cut again, and altered to the
fashion; so he coaxed old Josh to let him take it down to
his -—, as he called him, down in 3d street.  Well,
the good-natured old critter said he might: when he got
6




122                YANKEE HILL.
it back, sich a lookin' thing as it was, you might have
fallen down and worshipped it, without breaking the ten
commandments.  When we saw it, we all larfed; sister
Jedide, she snickered right out. The old man looked at it
for about a minute, didn't say a word, by jingo,-the tears
rolled out of his eyes as big as hail-stones. He jest folded
it up, put it under his pillow, laid himself down on the
bed, and never got up again: it broke his heart: he died
from a curtailed coat.
"The old man used to tell sich stories about the Revolution. I rather guess he could say a leetle more about
that affair than most folks.'Bout six years ago he went
to Boston, when La Fayette was there; they gave a great
dinner at Fanueil Hall.  When the Mayor heard Old Josh
Addams was in Boston, he sent him a regular built invitation.  The old man went, and wore the'76 coat,-that is,
before it was cut down, though.  By-and-bye they called
upon the old man for a toast.  Up he got, and says he,'Here's to the Heroes of the Revolution, who fought, bled,
and died, for their country, of which I was one.' When
old Josh said that, they all snickered right out.
"There's one story the old man used to tell about Boston, that was a real snorter: he always used to laugh
afore he begun. He said, down on Long Wharf there was
a queer little feller,-a cousin of his by the mother's side,
-called Zedekiah Hales, who wasn't more than four foot
high, and had a hump jest between his shoulders. A hull
squad of British officers got round Zedekiah, in State
street, and were laughing and poking all sorts of fun at
him: he bore it, cause as how he couldn't help it; one of
them, a regular built dandy captain, lifting up his glass,




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            12
said to him,' You horrid little deformed critter, what'
that lump you've  got on your shoulder?'  Zedekiah
turned round and looked at him for about a minute, and
says he,' it's Bunker Hill, you tarnal fool, you.'"




124                 YANKEE HILL.
TWO BIRDS KILLED WITH ONE STONE.
Mr. HILL, on one of the occasions of his benefit, sent
persons to every part of the City of Boston, to get all the
cripples they could find, to call at the office of Dr.,
-a -young physician, at that time, having but a limited
practice,-where they would receive aid and advice gratis.
The doctor was not aware of what was going on, but he
was very much astonished at the sudden increase of his
practice: his office was besieged with the halt, the lame,
and the blind.  The doctor turned none away, and in a
great many of the cases, had the satisfaction of doing a
great deal of good. Public notice was shortly attracted
to the office of this physician, and he soon enjoyed a large
and lucrative practice.  Many of the patients acted for
Mr. Hill's benefit, representing the army of Bombastes,
and such an army of real deformities was certainly never
seen on any stage before.




ANECDOTES ANP INCIDENTS.               125
THE TWO FAT SALS.
IF every man were to relate the little romances of love
in which he becomes involved, at some time or other of his
life, novelists and farce-writers would be supplied with
plots and incidents enough to supply publishers and managers with a continual run of novelties for all times.  In
the story of the "Two fat Sals," which Mr. Hill used to
relate with such inimitable humor, is recorded the experience of one man only, but it affords a very useful lesson on
the evils of a mind divided in the matter of love, and
another illustrious example of the truth of the aphorism,
that "the course of true love never did run smooth."
" There was two Sals livin' in our town, Sal Stebbins
and Sal Babit, —real corn-fed gals, I swow. Sal Stebbins
would lift a barrel of cider out of the eend of a cart as
quick as any other feller, and drink it tew. Sal Babit, she
was so fat, she'd roll one way jest as easy as t'other, and
if anything, a little easier.  Well, there was a corn-husking, and I went along with Sal Stebbins: there was all
the gals and boys settin' reound, and I got sot down so
near Sal Babit, that I'll be darned if I didn't kiss her afore
I know'd what I was abeout.  Sal Stebbins, she blushed:
the blood rushed right up into her hair: she was the best
red critter I ever did see.  I thought it was all up with
me, and sure enough it was, for when I asked her if she




126                 YANKEE HILL.
would go hum with me, she said'no; you needn't trouble
yourself nothin''tall'beout it.''Well, if you're mind to
get spunky, I guess I can git a gal that will let me see
her hum.  Sal Babit, shall I go hum with you?'' Well,'
says she,'I don't mind if you dew.' Arter that, Sal
Stebbins married a feller in our town, by the name of
Post,-blind in one eye, and deaf in one ear,-jest to
spite me, nothin' else:'so I thought if she was a mind to
take a feller that couldn't see or hear any tew well, I'd
better let her slide: so I went away from hum, and was
gone about three-four-five years?-yes, jest about five
years,'cause I know when I got back she had four little
Posts. I went to see how she got along. She asked me
to come in and set down; so I tuck a cheer and squatted:
then she tuck another cheer and squatted; and we both
squatted there together. Her young ones was all runnin'
reound on the floor: she pinted to them, and said, in a
sort of bragging way,' You see them, don't you?''Yes,'
says I, squintin' up one eye,' I see, they're all jest like
their daddy, blind in one eye.' She was bilin' dumplings
at the time, and as soon as she see me shut up one eye,
she out with a hot dumplin', and let me have it in t'other,
which made me shut it up a darn'd sight quicker than I
ever did afore, and I haint been in love since that time."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             127
A LEARNED SOCIETY.
NEW ENGLAND is studded with learned societies. The
people of-the Eastern  States seem to be as curious in
matters of science as they are in prying into each other's
affairs. Boston alone, every year, brings out more new
isms and ologies, than all the other cities in the Union put
together.  I most sincerely believe, that if some vast scientific discovery were to be made to-day among some
newly found people, whose language was different from
anything ever thought of or conceived before, that in a
week, some Yankee or other would advertise a lecture
upon the subject, and maybe deliver it in the new tongue.
The following report of a Learned Society, Mr. Hill attended in Clamtown, I give as he used to relate it.
YANKEE CABALA.
"Old Samuel Winston, Esq., a member of our Historical Society in  Clamtown, was considered a'notionate
critter,' and one of his notions was Cabala. He considered himself learned upon the' subject. There were belonging to the same society, a number of the sons of one
Jacob Bigelow.  Said Jacob, had twelve children, and
th.ese youtlig ones were continually pliguilng old Sammy to




128                 YANKEE HILL.
g Lve a lecture before the society, on Cabalistic Science, or
show them what it was like. He at length consented, and
here is a copy of the result of his labor. This diagram
was unrolled before the society, and the Bigelows in particular."Cabalistic Science is a cute arrangement of picters,
figures and letters, so as tew mean suthin' and here is an
example of how  sich arrangements due read.  (Points
to 1.)
"' In course nobody kin take offence at what kin be made
eout of figures and letters, for you kin jist make eout on'em what you've a mind tew. None ony ou see offence in
this? (Diagram.)
All answered "No," and the Bigelows louder than the
rest.
Well then, put in your mind that this is the key tew
the hull science, and you kin here trace it.  (Counts Diayram, One.)
A member interrupted him with" Wouldn't you like to have a large door key, Squire
Winston, it might be better to pint the subject eout."
WiNsTON,-" You better be quiet.  I b'lieve you don't
know Cabala, I b'lieve."
ANOTHER MEMBER.-" Squire, is Cabala any derivation
from gabble, tew keep up a talkin'?"
WINSTON. —" You are a fool too, you are, I b'lieve.
Shut up your talkin'."
2d MEMBER. —" Well, dew go on with that key. Patience, m-a-s-sy, you will be so long, and so tigious, that I'
shouldn't be a mite surprised, if your key got me locked
eout tew home."
WINSTON.-" The key I that is this key."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             129
3d MEMBER.-" Well, dew  strike that key, will you?
you'll never git through it. I never did see anything like
the prosyness of that critter; dew go on."
WINSTON.-" I'll thank you, Mr. President, to keep this
society a little quieter; it is gittin tew be a parfect bedlam
of ignorance, I b'lieve."
3d MEMBER. —" Dew you mean to say, that you are
the key stun of the whole society yourself."
WINSTON. —(Picking up a specimen.) "I mean that I
will throw a stun at your head, if you don't lock up your
tongue."
He proceeds," Take this key, (points to key,) and place it on this, and
you kin spell eout Jacob Bigelow.  Now read down this
list, (points to names,) and you have the names of his
sons-critters, at whose persuasion I have gin this lecture.
Here you have a picter, or set of picters, which in course
mean suthin', and thus they read.  (Names the pictures.)
"Well, put this key on them picters, and you can spell
by the first letters with this key, Jacob Bigelow, agin,-old
Jacob's most sensible expressions on any occasion, was'git eout' or' dew tell,' and by applying the key, here you
have'em.  Examine the same letters which say this, and
you see they are the initial letters of the whole family.
These picters not only spell the old man's name, but they
exhibit the propensities of his children. (Names in Diagram 6.)
The Bigelow family wanted tew larn Cabalistic science;
here is a specimen, heow do they like it?"
This is what old Mr. Winston termed a Yan-key way of
shutting the hull Bigelow family up.  Here was a row in
which all joined. The mystic Cabala had been deciphered,
6*




130                 YANKEE HILL.
and the Bigelows struck into a high key. Winston, was
standing with his divining rod in his hand on a bench, and
every now and then, you could hear him shout in a roaring
key —
WINSTON.-" It is a correct key, and you may like it or
not, I b'lieve."
The Landlady who owned the house, lived in one end,
and rented the apartments to the Society, with key in
hand, visited the room, when she broke into a shrill key(She had rented the house to catch a beau from the
Society.)
LANDLADY.-" Oh, gracious! dew you mean tew ruin a
widow, jist in her prime, who only owns this house, and six
others in the town jist like it, and has a new set of china and
furnitur, and no incumbrances; I say, dew this Society of
gentlemen, among whom I see a few widder acquaintances,
and some bachelors, young and old, who ought to have
been settled down in life long ago; dew you, by the combined power of your healthy-voices, by shoutin' in this
eoutrageous key of voice, both young and old on you, married and unmarried, not forgettin' the widowers, I say,
dew you all want tew, in this manner, break the peace and
quietness of a poor widow, by breakin' on her up. Ef you
don't all jist clear out, I'll lock every one on you in the
house till mornin'."
The Landlady shook her key at the Society, and there
was a Yan-key meaning in it, which broke up the historical Cabal, who, on this occasion had become so Cabalistic.




&NECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             131
AN ADVENTURE ON HORSEBACK.
ON one of Mr. Hill's visits to New Orleans, he rode out
on horseback with a friend of his, and, as they were passing the St. Charles Hotel, his companion said,' Hill, I dare you to ride up those steps;"-meaning
those which led to the large reading-room attached to that
magnificent Hotel.
"' You dare me, do you?" said Mr. Hill.
"Yes; but if you will do it, I will forfeit this fifty
dollars."
" I don't want your money, but here goes."
He put spurs to his horse, and quick as a.flash was up
the steps and into the reading-room. It was filled with
gentlemen engaged in a quiet perusal of the papers, but
such scampering and confusion which followed the appearance of the gentleman on horseback, can be better imagined
than described. They scattered in all directions, while
the rider, nothing daunted, walked his horse leisurely round
the room, making a sort of genteel waltz among the chairs
and tables, When they found who it was that had thus
intruded his horsemanship upon their especial notice, they
all enjoyed the joke, with the exception of one old gentleman, who went to the bar and demanded his bill, declaring
he would not remain a momept in a hppse where such




132                 YANKEE HILL.
doings were allowed. Mr. Hill frequently met the irrate
old gentleman in the street, but he always gave Mr. H. a
wide berth. He seemed fearful that if he went too near
Mr. Hill, a horse would spring up under the legs of the
latter gentleman, and trample him to death.  This was,
I believe, the first and only time Mr. H. performed on
horseback.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              133
A ROMANCE OF THE CITY.
AFTER his return from the West, he appeared in Boston,
and immediately afterward in Philadelphia.  During his
sojourn in the City of Brotherly Love, he met Mr. G., an
old associate and confidant of his, who was about to be
married.  Mr. G., on meeting his friend Hill, expressed an
anxious desire that he should go with him to the house of
lis intended, and see the lady to whom he was about to
submit his happiness and fortune.  Mr. Hill, of course,
readily consented, for it was not in his nature to refuse the
performance of an act which would even oblige a stranger,
still less an old and much esteemed friend.  Mr. G. was
anxious to have Mr. Hill's opinion of the lady of his choice,
little doubting, perhaps, but that it would be a flattering
confirmation of his own judgment.  In this, however, he
was mistaken.  Mr. Hill did not see the lady, as did his
friend, with the eyes of love, and he saw in the gay, affected, and coquettish manner of Miss R., a frivolity of mind
and gaiety of disposition which would be the rock upon
which the happiness of his friend would surely be wrecked.
Mr. Hill would gladly have avoided the giving an opinion
upon the subject, for he knew full well the little weight an
adverse judgment has with a man in love; but his friend
was not to be driven from his purpose, and insisted upoil




134                 YANKEE HILL.
Mr. Hill giving a truthful account of the impression on his
mind in relation to the lady. Thus urged, Mr. Hill remarked:
"My dear fellow, your intended is pretty, sings well,
and has a graceful manner, but she is vain, and too fond of
admiration to rest satisfied with the regard of you alone."
But I think she loves me sincerely?"
"Yes; perhaps as well as she is capable of loving; but
I could not help thinking,-for I watched her closely all
the evening, —that you have touched her vanity and not
her heart. You occupy a fine position in society, possessing both wealth and reputation, and if I do her not great
injustice, she looks upon you rather as the means of her
enjoyment, than the source of her happiness. You insist
upon my opinion, and I give it without any scruples of
delicacy.  She appears to me utterly destitute of those
solid qualities calculated to make your fireside happy; and
I would beg you, if you can with honor, to withdraw from
your engagement, for I can see nothing in its fulfilment
but disappointment and misery."
As my readers have, probably, already anticipated, the
advice, though sought, was not taken, and in a very short
time after this conversation his friend was married. Mr.
Hill went to England soon after this, and did not see Mr.
G. again, until the year 1840. Twenty years seemed to
have laid their burden of cares upon him.  He was no
longer the pleasant and jovial companion Mr. Hill had
known him, but a care-worn, heart-broken man. His wife,
on the contrary, appeared gayer than ever. Home had no
attractions for her, and the society of her husband was
the last she sought.  Mr. Hill's worst anticipations had
been more than realized.  A  separation eventually took




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              135
place: Mr. G. went to Europe, and his wretched wife
abandoned herself to a life of profligacy and shame.  I
may as well relate, here, the sequel of this story, although
the scene took place years afterwards.
In the year 1846, Mr. Hill resided in Fourth street, near
Union Square, New York.  Whilst residing here, he practised as a dentist, and as all who follow this profession
assume the title of Doctor, he was not unfrequently called
upon to officiate in that capacity.  He was awakened from
his sleep, one night, by a loud ringing of the bell. He got
up, put on his wrapper, and went to the door.
" Oh, docther, dear, won't you come and see a poor sick
creatu. e who is dangerous, and is lying in a room, forenenst
the one my wife and children live in."
" My friend, there is a doctor lives next door; call upon
him, and I've no doubt he will readily go with you."' I've done that same, and he is not at home. Oh, what
will I do; and there's no other docther near."
" Oh, if that's the case," said Mr. Hill, "and I can be
of any use, I'll go with you."
"Long life to you for that same."
Mr. Hill accompanied the man to a wretched tenement,
above Fourteenth street.  He went into the room of the
sick woman, and who should he recognize in the miserable
object before him, but the once gay and fashionable Mrs.
G., the wife of his old friend. Feeble as she was, after a
while she recognized Mr. Hill, and oh, what words of bitter
anguish and repentance escaped her parched lips. Now,
when sickness and poverty had worn off the gilding which
pleasure employs to hide its unsubstantial nature, the affections she had lost, the home she had made desolate, the love
she had deceived, the hopes she had betrayed, came crowding




136                YANKEE HILL.
upon her heart and mind to add the poignancy of their bitter thoughts to the agony of a bodily dissolution.  Mr. Hill
did and said ail that he could to soothe and comfort her,
but who can administer to a mind diseased? Only he who
could recall to the dying wretch the golden opportunities
she had lost; who could bring back youth and health,and no such patient spirit dwells on earth. The pillow
may be smoothed, the sharp pain blunted, the fever which
burns may be relieved; but the mind diseased, the heart
betrayed, must look to higher than human power. To
this Mr. Hill directed the feelings of the dying woman,
and he had the consolation of knowing, that, before she
died, which was in a few days after this interview, she
became sober and resigned




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              137
MISPLACED AFFECTION.
AT lovers' vows they say Jove laughs, but, by Jove, they
ought sometimes to make him weep, if he were a respectable and gentlemanly man, as he ought to be, from  age
and position. If he could but take his place in some of our
modern courts of justice, and listen to the details of lovers'
perjuries, as displayed in crim. con. suits, now and then, or
in the more romantic cases of "Breaches of Promise," I
fancy the  " Ancient" would laugh on the other side of
his mouth.
The following story of misplaced affection, also, has its
suggestions of sorrow and regret, at which it would De very
naughty in Jove even to smile, much less laugh.
" Mr. D —, a merchant of the city of New York, was
associated also with a mercantile house in Boston, the
business transactions of which frequently required his presence in the latter city. He was accustomed to spend his
evenings on such occasions, at the residence of his partner.
On one of these visits, he met Miss S —-, an extremely
pretty and interesting, but, as the sequel will show, a very
weak girl.  Mr. D ---- was a man of intelligence, agreeable in manners, and of prepossessing appearance.  He
could talk fluently and intelligibly of the ordinary and extraordinary topics of the day, and had sufficient tact not to




138                  YANKEE HILL.
venture upon subjects which required more thought than
a man constantly busied with cottons and calicoes can give
to anything which does not appear beside the money article or price-current of a daily paper.  He husbanded his
stock of- knowledge very adroitly, and placing his best
goods in the shop window of his mind, managed to attract
the attention of such superficial folks as Miss S-. She
conceived for Mr. D     a romantic attachment, which she
had not the strength of mind or principle to resist, or even
the cunning to conceal.  In a moment of thoughtless enthusiasm, she confessed to him  how dear he had become
to her, and how impossible it was for her to live without
him.  He, instead of being startled with the confession of
a guilty love like this, and checking, at once, a passion
which could not but result in certain misery to all concerned, allowed his vanity to get the mastery of his judgment, yielded to the unholy influence which was fast
spreading around him.  He was a married man, and, excepting this circumstance, loved his wife devotedly. Like
many others, feeling  his heart secure, he imagined he
could throw aside the parasitic feeling which but clung, as
he thought, only upon the outside of his affections, whenever he thought proper.  Dangerous infatuation! fatal
error! The ivy clings not more tenaciously to the oak,
than do the spreading tendrils, which shoot from a corrupted heart around the principles of those who carelessly
encourage their creeping insidiousness.  Mr. D, by
not at once quenching the guilty flame which was burning
in the bosom of Miss S, committed a grievous fault,
which, but for the interposition of a friend in time, might
have rendered  his own fireside a domestic ruin, and




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.           1I9
brought the gray hairs of an aged parent with sorrow to
the grave.
Mr. Hill, who was acquainted with all the parties, was
playing an engagement in Boston, when the mother of
Miss S-    came to him, and begged his advice and assistance. She informed him, that her erring daughter had
left her home and followed Mr. D —   to New York,
and begged him, as he was about to leave for that city, to
use his influence in urging her truant child to return.  Mr.
Hill readily promised to exert himself to that effect. He
called on Miss S - on his arrival in New York. Mr.
Hill, not harshly, but earnestly pictured to her the certain
misery she was bringing upon herself and all connected
with her, by pursuing the course she seemed to have
marked out for herself. He then informed her, that her
mother had commissioned him to conduct her back to Boston, but to this she would not listen. " What is your object," said Mr. Hill, " in remaining in the city?" She made
no reply, and Mr. H. told her somewhat impatiently, that
he knew why she would not leave, " And, madam," said he,
" I can see nothing but ruin to yourself and to the man
you pretend to love, in a persistence in this wretched conduct.  What, if you take your lover from the bosom of the
woman he has sworn to love; can you expect a moment's
happiness? can you rely upon the feelings of a man who
can so easily be decoyed away; but no, you will not be a
party to such a thing. You have been blinded by passion.
I will now leave you, and in the afternoon, having given
you till that time for reflection, I will again call to learn
your decision."
Mr. H. saw that the most prompt measures must be employed to wake up the infatuated girl to a proper sense of




140                  YANKEE HILL.
her degrading position, and after giving the subject due
consideration, he decided upon calling on Mrs. D, the
wife, and informing her of the affair as it then stood. It
was a painful task, but he thought it the most likely way
to startle  Mr. D     to a sense of duty, and  he resolved to do it. He was surprised, in calling upon Mrs.
D, to discover that she knew all about it, and had in
her possession a letter from Miss S, to Mr. D-.
At Mr. Hill's request, Mrs. D — called upon Miss S —-.
When Mrs. D-     introduced herself and showed the deluded girl the letter, the latter was ready to sink with mortification and shame. Not a loophole was left for her escape; no excuse could be offered, for in her own handwriting were the damning proofs of the injury she was inflicting upon the innocent wife, who stood before her. No
harsh reproaches escaped the lips of the injured wife: no
useless recriminations to call a retort from the guilty girl;
but Mrs. D —, with the noble spirit of Him who said to
the adultress, "go thou, and sin no more," kindly pointed
out the error of her way, and urged her, ere it were too
late, to fly to her home, and to her distracted mother.
Overcome by the dignity of the woman, whose happiness
she had so nearly destroyed, she burst into tears, and declared she would never see Mr. D-    again.  " Pardon
and forgive me," said she, " he told me you were cold to
him, that you did not care for him, and I was bewildered.
He has basely traduced the noblest of women, and the best
of wives: take back his miniature he gave me.  Oh, that I
had never seen him."  Mrs. D-  encouraged her in her
determination, and parted from her in kindness and charity.
Mr. Hill called in the afternoon and was pleased to find Miss
S-     dressed, and ready for a speedy departure. Mr. H.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            141
did not leave her till he saw her safe on the Boston steamer,
on her way to her friends and home. Years have passed
since these circumstances transpired, and I have reason to
know that the promise she gave in a moment of poignant
sorrow  and shame was faithfully kept during years of
changing prosperity and fortune.




~1412  ~      YANKEE HILL.
THREE CHANCES FOR A WIFE.
WHEN a man has three chances for a wife, it is, indeed, a
hard mischance if he should fail. The following is one of
those cases, which might have occurred down east, but I
am rather doubtful if a similar event was ever known in
any other part of the world. But let me give the experience of the gentleman, who had three chances, in his own
language:, I once courted a gal by the name of Deb Hawkins.
I made it up to get married. Well, while we was going
up to the deacon's, I stepped my foot into a mud puddle,
and spattered the mud all over Deb Hawkins' new gown,
made out of her grandmother's old chintz petticoat. Well,
when we got to the deacon's, he asked Deb if she would
take me for her lawful wedded husband?'No,' says she,'I shan't do no such thing.'' What on airth is the reason?'
says I.'Why,' says she,' I've taken a mislikin' to you.'
Well, it was all up with me then, but I give her a string of
beads, a few kisses, some other notions, and made it all up
with her; so we went up to the deacon's a second time.
I was determined to come up to her this time, so when the
deacon asked me if I would take her for my lawfully wedded wife, says I,'No, I shan't do no such thing.''Why,'
says Deb.' what on airth is the matter?'' Why,' says I,




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             143'I have taken a mislikin' to you now.' Well, there it was
all up again, but I gave her a new apron, and a few
other little trinkets, and we went up again to get married.
We expected then we would be tied so fast that all nature
couldn't separate us, and-when we asked the deacon if he
wouldn't marry us, he said'No, I shan't dew any sich
thing.''Why, what on airth is the reason?' says we.'Why,' says he,'I've taken a mislikin' to both on you.'
Deb burst out cryin', the deacon burst out scolding, and I
burst out laughing, and sich a set of reg'lar busters you
never did see."




144                YANKEE HILL.
SURGICAL AMBITION.-THE SPIRIT WILLING
BUT THE FLESH WEAK.
MR. HILL had a passion for everything appertaining to
surgery, but he had in his composition too much of the
milk of human kindness to stand with a bold front to witness the suffering consequent upon surgical operations.
He often expressed his appreciation of excellence in the
art, and frequently desired an opportunity to be present in
the hospital when some great operation was to be performed. One of his friends rallied him upon his want of
courage, and to test it, offered to accompany him to the
hospital on the next operating day. Mr. Hill accepted the
invitation. On the day on which Mr. Hill was introduced,
the operating theatre was crowded, as the celebrated Dr.
Warren was going to perform one of those bold operations
for which he is so famous. Hill bore the preparatory steps
with considerable composure; but when the patient was
seated in the chair, in which he was to undergo the agony
of a severe and tedious operation, his sympathies were
painfully excited, and his courage was evidently like Bob
Acres, in the Rivals, about to make its exit by way of his
fingers. The accomplished surgeon took his scalpel and
made the first incision. Hill's face was pale as marble:
he held his fingers to his ears that the groans of the tor



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              1 4
tured patient might not be heard, but all was of no avail,
and he left the theatre with as much haste as possible, and
sauntered about the wards of the hospital until all was
over.
In one of the beds lay a patient, who, a short time previously, had lost a leg by amputation.  The patient knew
Mr. Hill, and spoke to him.  Mr. Hill did his best to get
up a little courage, and made a dismal effort to assume a
professional indifference, but the sick man saw, thought,
and said, with a serio-comic air, " Ah, Mr. Hill, you won't
do for a doctor. This is a horrid place for a Christian to
be in.  My leg is gone, but I don't care for that.  My
wife and children "-and here the sick man paused. Hill's
hand had been fumbling in his pocket, and at last he drew
out an eagle, and threw it to the sick man.  " There, send
that to your wife, and if she don't want to use it, keep it
to buy yourself a wooden leg when you get well."  Mr.
Hill took a hurried departure from the hospital; and although he never lost a keen sensibility to the suffering of
his fellow-creatures, his love of the surgical profession
prevailed sufficiently to enable him to witness operations
afterwards with some fortitude.




146                  YANKEE HILL.
LOVERS' QUARRELS. — RECONCILIATION.
ON Mr. Hill's first visit to London, he was introduced to
the family of Mr. T-, of -, near Regent's Park.
He had the faculty, in an eminent degree, of making those
with whom  he came in contact, love him.  There was a
frank, hearty manner about him which abhorred concealments, and I have been surprised in reading over some of
the papers in my possession to see with what readiness he
obtained the confidence of others.  The family of Mr.
T-, consisting of his wife and three daughters, entertained the highest regard for Mr. Hill, and as will be seen
by the sequel, one member of the family made him a sort
of father confessor, in a very delicate affair; this was the
eldest daughter. Mr. Hill had observed that, during his
last visit to the family, this young lady had lost all her
vivacity, and seemed depressed and melancholy. She had
been playing at the piano, accompanied by Mr. Hill with
his flute, when she suddenly gave up playing, and retired
to the sofa. It so happened, there was no one in the room
beside themselves. Mr. Hill, in his usual kind manner, inquired the cause of her sadness.  " Oh, not much!" she
replied, " my health has not been as well as usual, lately."
"Excuse me, my dear Miss T, but I think there




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            147
is something more.  If you have any cause of unhappiness
confide your sorrow to me, and if I cannot remove the
cause of vour depression, the sympathy of a friend will,
perhaps, alleviate it: come now."  She was silent for a
moment, and looking at Mr. Hill through her tears, said
" You are right, Mr. Hill, I am truly miserable, and I dare
not let my mother or sisters know the cause. I have been
for some months partially engaged to Mr. P-, but I
felt that he did not love me with that devotion that I
wished, and I determined to try the strength of his attachment.  About three weeks ago we were all at a party,
and I was introduced to a young man, who during the evening paid me a great deal of attention, which I encouragedin fact we appeared devoted to each other. I occasionally
glanced towards him  whom  I truly loved, to see the
effect my conduct produced. I saw that he was hurt, and
yet I persisted in my unfeeling course. At length he was
missing from the room. At first I thought nothing of his
absence, but when I found he did not return, my heart sank
within me, and I ordered the carriage and went home.
The next day I received a letter from him, in which he
said that he had witnessed, with unspeakable anguish, my
conduct of the evening before, and that he should now
take leave of me forever, hoping that now I had found one
better suited to my tastes and inclination, and should be
happy.  He released me from all engagements.  He confessed that he loved me." "I see," said Mr. Hill, " you have
acted unkindly; but tell me, if your lover could be convinced of the true state of the case, and could be restored
to you, would you venture to trifle with his feelings so
again?"  Never!" she-earnestly replied.  "Well, then,
leave the matter to me; I know him well; and will let him




148                 YANKEE HILL.
understand how you feel, without compromising your delicacy in the least." Mr. Hill was then preparing to visit
Paris, whither Mr. P   - had fled, under the disappointments he had experienced.  One of the first things Mr.
Hill did, on reaching Paris, was to find out Mr. P.
He had not his address, but he ransacked all the public
places in the hope of meeting the truant, but with no success, for some time. At length, whilst taking some refreshments in a celebrated cafe, who should come in but the melancholy lover.  He was delighted at seeing Mr. Hill, for
he knew he should hear news from home, and especially of
her to whom  his heart was still devoted, despite her
coquetry. Mr. Hill found no difficulty in approaching the
subject, for it was one, of all others, Mr. P -    was
most interested in. When the true state of the case was
made known, he was for starting back to England by the
first conveyance, but Mr. Hill restrained the impatient lover,
and made him promise to stay until the next day, which he
did. Paris had now lost all attractions for him, and not one
moment longer than that would he be detained.
On Mr. Hill's return to England, he found the young
lady he left so melancholy and depressed, the gayest of the
gay.  Her color had come back to her cheeks, and when
he suddenly went into  the room  where  she and her
lover were seated, she flew to receive him, and-shall I say
it-kissed him. The lover was by, and had sense enough
to attribute this kiss of gratitude to the right source. They
were married in a few months after, and are now as happy
a couple as can be met with in a summer's day.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              149
THE BAR-ROOM LOAFER.
HE lies in bed as long as the happy sunlight, streaming
through the window of his unpaid-for lodging-room will
permit him, and when he has dressed himself, completed
his toilet, and is half satisfied with his personal appearance, he ventures forth.
He has always a certain round to perform, and never
did a circuit judge, bent on fulfilling his business with
satisfaction to the community, perform his duty with more
regularity.  He knows, at the first house on his circuit,
which he generally reaches by eleven o'clock, that he will
meet with Alderman Bluebottle.
Alderman Bluebottle is a stout man, with a hoarse,
rough voice, like a raven's. He is popular in his ward, and
one of the committee on the alms-house. He is reputed to
be pious, and goes dead against the Sunday papers.  Attends all corporation and public dinners, and stays till all
is blue.  He drinks a glass of beer at eleven o'clock precisely, to the minute, at precisely the same house every
day of his life.
"Sir, the cause of democracy is progressing," says the
Alderman.
"Are it?" Says a thin, spare man, who accompanies
him: he is a tailor by occupation, a man of considerable




150                YANKEE HILL.
influence among the cloth, as sharp as a needle, as cutting
as a pair of shears, and moreover, a voter in the 21st
Ward.
"Are it, though?"
"Yes, sir," says the Alderman,' too long degraded
beneath the oppressive exactions of a collapsed, injurious,
unsentimental, and prodigal government, as I had the honor
to say the other night, in the Board.  (' I called for beer,
sir:')  Sir, what did I say the other night in the board?
We were discussing that momentous question, the importance of educating young rats, so as to make them useful
for domestic purposes. By the bye, did you hear Mr. Alderman Drinkdry's excellent theory on that subject? All
nature informs us, that original minds have lost their distinguishing qualities, and by habit and education, have become the reverse of what they were.  Sir, if the human
race have done this ere thing, why may not the animal
creation. Rats, who now tear up the floors of our dwellings, and ravages our barns, who enter, without feelings of
decency and respect, the bed-rooms of our wives and
daughters, break into our shops and destroy our property,
may, by education, be brought to be protectors, instead of
deceivers, and in place of calling out,'Behold the dust
that hangs upon their bloody track,' we may have to shout
hosannahs to' Waiter, bring me some beer.'"
" Yes, sir, to what?"
"To what, sir."
Y' es, sir, to what?"
"To the triumphant march of the rats, while the deep
diapason of caterwauling will swell the scenes.  Sir, I move
the establishment of ten normal schools, for the education
of young rats."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             151
While this is going on, our worthy friend, the loafer,
has been perusing the papers: he has looked through the
Courier and Express, turned up his nose at the Journal
of Commerce, requested a gentleman to make haste with
the Aurora, and wondered when the Evening Tattler would
be out.  He is now engaged in reading the bill of the New
York Museum.  He finishes the bill as Alderman Bluebottle closes his speech, and bowing and simpering, walks
forward.
" Good morning, Alderman, what prospects have we for
the election."
"Well, sir, really I don't know; I guess it's all 0. K."
"I think so too. I have voted in the 21st Ward every
year till now. I'm sorry to move. I really think I shall
go back."
"The 21st Ward is an excellent Ward, and our people
may be useful there.  Pray, sir, are you drinking anything?"
" No, Alderman, but as it's you, a very small glass of
brandy and water.  Now, not too much.  Stay, I'll mix it
myself."
And so our friend obtains glass No. 1. Acquaintance
after acquaintance drops in, and the bar-room loafer manages as often to be recognized, until he finds some unhappy acquaintance, who, in pity to his hungry looks, asks
him to dine.  And so from day to day and from hour to
hour he continues to live, and fret his hour upon the stage.




152                YANKEE HILL.
ANTIQUITIES AND PRODUCTS GINERALLY.
WE now come to the ancient diskiveries proper, and the
products of the sile. You may here see a piece of the
ginooine Plymouth rock. It was thought at one time that
the English had carried it off, and made it a part of the
rock of Gibraltar, but when they paid us a visit in red uniform, and tested the material, they found the old stun
there, and they found it a Gibraltar tew. T was a great
letter among the ancients, and from it arose the society of
T totallers. Their idol, the Tea, became so common, arter
a spell, that it was emptied by the box-full intew Boston
harbor. Turtle, a shell of which you may see in my collection, gave birth tew the sayin' of "shell out."  The
tarm hierology, which we use in describin' these things,
means that the people in old times were ruther toploftical.
A number of these matters hev been hard tew diskiver,
but they are easy when you know'em.  Now, many on




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               153
you b'lieve the old sayin' that matches were made in
heaven, but I kin prove they were made in New England,'specially the Lucifer ones. Ef I had time I might say
suthin' about the brimstun at one eend of'em, but I leave
you all tew find eout about that, herearter, yourselves.
Putty is a great antiquity. Its fluctuation in this day is a
remarkable contrast tew the past: putty, anciently, jest
stuck where it was put. You hev heern of corn? Well, I
guess you hev.  Tew vary eour subject, and teck things
ginerally, we will pass on tew corn, and that brings us tew
products.   The race anterior tew  the ancient Pilgrims
knew suthin' abeout this vegetable, but it was left tew eour
airly ancestors tew develop the full usefulness of this grain.
The Ingins knew  heow  to use it in the rough, but, oh!
Johnny cakes and corn juice, tew what parfection it was
finally brought by the descendants of the primitive fathers.
This cartouche will show you the tew stages of corn.
Here you hev corn in the rough,
Corn.
Corn Juice.
And here you hev it in parfection.
Findin' that by poundin' the grain, mixin' with it a leetle
milk and a few eggs, that it made a mixtur of a humanizin'
7 




154                  YANKEE HILL.
character for the innards, they set tew work tew  fix a
liquid mixtur eout of the juice, tew was' down the cakes,
and pursuin' it through a spirit of resarch, from  one diskivery tew anuther, they got eout a juice which set their
tongues workin' very lively.  Findin' it a warmin' mixtur,
they kept on takin' it, and finally their legs got tew movin'
in sech a zig-zag fashion, that many were shocked with the
new drink. This diskivery, undoubtedly, pinted many intu
very crooked ways, and gin rise tew the expression that"This is a great country."
It may be proper, before proceedin' farther, tew state
that, the ancient New Englanders wore a becomin' kiverin'
in airly times.  We hev here a cartouche, presentin' the
outline of an early settler, and his descendant of the present
gineration. The difference in the outer kiverin' will strike
your eye in a minnit. In old times they went in for an allsufficient amount of brim, while neow, hevin' grown cute,
and savin' of stuff, they cut it so precious narrow, that it is
eenamost all shaved off.  Y-e-s they dew.  In the coat
some difference may be diskivered; the antique, as you see,
wraps the hull body-while in t'other the body is neglectedl,
and the material is all consigned tew the skirt, or tail-eend




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              155
of the kiveria'.  Frock coats air an exception, and sacks
air different and primitive.  Here, neow, is a very interestin' relic in the coat way, found in the ruins of an airly
habitation, and it is the best evidence we kin offer, that
some of eour Irish friends were among the first native
settlers.  Let us tech and pass on agin.
It is a gineral opinion that wooden clocks, like some
people's larnin', came naturally tew the ancient inhabitants,
but who began tew  build'em  for exportation remains a
hidden mystery. It is pretty sartain, however, that wooden
clocks hev ben diskivered, and, I may say, that in my
travels, not only on this Continent, but in some furrin'
parts, I hev hearn on a few of'em, and seen a couple, I
reckon: well, I guess I hev. They are a nat'ral product of
New  England.   Wooden nutmegs spring spontaneously
from the sile; tooth-powder is turned out as plenty as saw'
dust, and a good deal like it tew; bear's grease made from
New England pork, highly scented, is biled down in its
factories; and the patent pills, which can cure anything
from measles to an amputated head, hev all sprung from
this ancient race. I hev here a small cartouche, found in a
mortar, which explains pills easy.




156                  YANKLEE  HILL,
Pills.
A fellar is here represented about tew swaller one, and he
looks as ef his innards didn't like pills. We hev good
reason tew  b'lieve that New Englanders made the first
shoes, for, on decypherin' one of the old inscriptions below
this cartouche, we find inscribed the words:
" There is nuthin' like leather."
An evidence agin which there kin be no dispute. What a
a sublime contemplation it is, that New England protects,
by the science of cobblin, the gineral understandin' of half
creation.
We now come tew the interesting part of eour subject,
which more particularly treats of punkins.  Punkins air
illdigenous tew  our sile, and the ancient settlers feound




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              157
that eout, at an early period; seeing this big fruit, they
natrally sot tew work to see what its innards was made
of.  By sartain paintin's and cartouches, still presarved,
and by written history, as sot deown in hieroglyphics, we
learn that they first tried'em raw, but they didn't eat good,
and then they cooked'em.  Ah! OH!! AHEM!!  (licks his
chops.)  A diskivery was now made, which sot the mouths
of a hull colony watering.  They soon got tew  making
them intew pies, which fact we see proved by this cartouche.
Punkin Pie.
Punkin is put over the pie, to signify that the punkin
was first diskivered, and that it was a'ter made intew the
pie. You will recollect, that the pie was the second diskivery.  The eatin' of the pie wanted no studdy, for it
was found, by actual experiment, that ef you put a piece
of the pie intew the hands of a Yankee babby, it jest natrally puts it in its mouth.
At one period, we held a deep investigation in the historical society, tew which I hev the honor of bein' Correspondin' Secretary. The subject was this stun,
/~^^




158                  YANKEE HILL.
which bore this queer inscription:
ITIS  APU  NKIN  ITIS.
It was plain tew to perceive that it was a petrified vegetable, but it was desp'rate hard tew decipher, geologically,
its class,'cause it was so carefully dried up. We sot tew
work on the inscription, thinkin' that as it was antique, it
would tell the origin of the plant, or gin us a peep intew
some matter of airly history.  Deacon Starns, the President, a'ter consultin' all the books in the library, remarked
to the Society, in his commandin' way:DEAcoN.-A'ter a sarchin' hunt, and considerable readin', I hev found eout, that the first word is a Latin tarm.
It is-" ITIS,-thou goest," and I reckon I wouldn't go
through sech anuther hunt tew find eout the beginnin' or
eend of creation, I had a sarchin' time, I b'lieve.
Eour antiquary spoke up right peert tew the President
on hearin' this:
ANTIQUARY.-Why, Deacon, ITIS, well, yes, guess it is,
well, I declare, who'd thought it,-and I swow ef the last
word don't spell jest the same thing.  Thou goest.  Yes,
jest the same.  Mabbe the middle means that tew, let me
see.  No, for spell it which way you will, up or down, it
seems tew mean suthin' else, y-e-s, I guess it does; well,
really. I move Deacon, we sit on this stun till we find it
eout.  Parseverance will dew  it, for by that you  hev
already diskivered the first, and me the last word.
DEACON. — YOU  diskiver? ahem!  You! I found both
out myself.
ANTIQUARY.-YOu will own, Mr. President, that you ony
named the first.
DEACON. —Yes; and that was the key tew the second,
sir: neow how do you feel?




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             159
ANTIQUARY.-I reckon, deacon, it's one thing tew find
the key, and anuther tew know its use. I aint goin' tew
be robbed of my resarches, I guess; particularly, a'ter I
hev unlocked a secret of sech importance.
DEACON.-Ef the antiquity gentleman of this so-ci-e-ty
hes a mind tew, he will please come tew order.
The society unanimously called the antiquary tew order,
and rite off, a new member, a timid lookin' young feller,
remarked:
NEW MEMBER.-Ef it would please the society, I would
like to make a slight remark; not that I kin throw light
upon the subject afore you, a timely remark, however,
might lead to new remarks, and remarkin' upon one point
a'ter anuther, would draw eout remarks.
DEACON.-(Waving hand.)  Go on, sir; let us hear
your remark, and ef you please make it remarkable brief.
NEW MEMBER. —Yes, sir. I would ony remark, that eour
doctor remarked, that APU, if the U was an 0, would
be the Greek word for from.
The sensation at heerin' this was tremenjus. I may say
the hull society was set a bilin'. The new member got
frightened at what he had did, and I natrally expected
him  tew run.  Eour antiquary moved that a medal be
struck in his honor, and that frightened him wus. He said
he be durned if they should strike him with a medal, and
threatened he'd lick the antiquary the first time he caught
him sarchin' in the ruins of his daddy's mill. Finally, the
twitter in which they had all been put, smoothed down,
and they all, ginerally, sot tew work, tew find eout the last
undiskivered word.  I told'em  now, myself, that ef the
third word had an (a) and (n) atween the (n) and (k), I'd
think it was nankin.




160                  YANKEE HILL.
ANTIQUARY.-That's it. It's named a'ter nankin trowsers!
PRESIDENT. —.Ah! yes, yes; that is a Chinese word.  I
have heard the captin' of one of my vessels say it was a
teown in China. Ah! ha! that is it, sure enough, I reckon.
Well, I cal'late the hull reads now, clear as moonshine:
let me see:
Latin.   Greek.   Chinese.    Latin.
ITIS    APU    IKIN        ITIS.
THOU GOEST FROM  NANKIN, THOU GOEST.
It is plain as the nose on a face, tew the eye of science
ginerally, and tew this society in particular, that this stun
was once a Chinese fruit, sent eout to this country, to see
ef it would fructify, and here the darn thing has taken a
notion instead to petrify!
The applause was tremenjus!
Zachariah Stanhope, a consarned dirty little rascal, who
swept our historical room  and made the fires, bust right
eout intew a snigger.  He had been sticking his tow head
atween the heads of the society, and was deciphering the
inscription tew.
PRESIDENT.-Zack, what air you sniggerin' eout in that
way abeout, eh?
ZACH.-At the stun, sir.
PRESIDENT.-Well, what abeout the stun?
ZAcH.-At the words, sir.
PRESIDENT.-Hah! At the words, eh?  Well, what do
you spell eout of them? come, let us hear you; and the
president winked at the society.
ZACH,-(a'ter wiping his nose, and lickin' his lips, read
right eout,)IT-IS-A-PUNKIN-IT-IS!!




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               161
And so it was, a consarned dried up, petrified punkin,
that had dried up, as you kin see, more one way than
t'other. A'ter votin' a medal to the diskiverer of this inscription, eour society adjourned.
Ladies and gentlemen, walk up and see my antiquities.
I do not claim for Mr. Hill any great originality, either
in the conception or'execution of the following lecture on
the antiquities of New England.  I feel almost sure the
idea was suggested by Mr. Gliddon's lectures on Egypt, to
which it bears a strong resemblance in the very extraordinary character of the facts related, and the oddity of the
hypothesis sought to be established.   The title of Mr.
Hill's lecture, viz. "Antiquities of New England," brings to
my mind a question once absolutely put to me by a physician, then practising in the city of Brooklyn.  I was walking along the Heights with him  one evening, when the
Doctor turned towards, and thus addressed me, " Doctor,"
said he, c' are all those old, ancient antiquities of former
times, all covered with ivory, which we read of in England,
realities or mere creatures of the imagination?" It will
appear almost incredible, perhaps, that a man possessing
a diploma for the practice of a liberal profession, could
deliver himself of " such perilous stuff;" but I pledge my
word that the language I have put into his mouth is verbatim, that which he employed to express himself on this occasion.  With regard to Mr. Hill's Antiquities of New England, I shall leave my reader to judge whether "they
are realities, or mere creatures of the imagination."




162                  YANKEE HILL.
THE PEOPLE AND ANTIQUITIES OF NEW ENGLAND,
YANKEEOLOGICALLY SPEAKING.
IT is a pooty ginerally conceded fact, that man is a
queer critter, and that when he aint movin' abeout he's
doin' suthin' else. This pint bein' conceded, we pass on
tew remark, that the first race which sot deown in New
England, were of this movin', reound kind of critters, and
I rekon they hev fixed a leetle mite of their stirrin' reound
propensities upon the ginerations that followed a'ter. This
part of eour subject may not account for the milk in the
cocoa nut, but it does account for why your humble sarvint is here. All owin' tew his New England propensity
for stirrin' reound. Well, hevin' settled this pint we'll
pass on tew  consider the next.  It has been ginerally
thought, that the airly inhabitants of New  England all
came from some place, and I guess they did. What's more,
they found a place tew come tew, when they came.  This
in some measure, accounts for the ancient sayin', that
" you'll be there when you git tew the place." Well, a'ter
eatin' a clam-chowder, of which we have sufficient evidence
that they were desp'rately fond,'cause the shells air scattered abeout promiscuously, these airly New Englanders
sot to work at makin' themselves tew hum, and they succeeded a'ter a fashion.  The fashion lies ben found to be
a tolerable good one tew, for their posterity stick tew the
same way of gittin' along, even unto the present gineration. Well, as I was sayin', they made themselves at hum.
Wherei they landed, there was considerable sand, some
stuns, and a leetle dash of water, and from sartin' hieroglyphical evidence, we air enabled tew make out, that they




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            163
were jest abeout as hard-headed a race as ever made up
their minds tew settle down wherever they had a mind tew.
It aint exactly known whether they came in a hickory
canoe, or a birch basket, but jedgin' from the way New
England schoolmasters use these tew kind of woods, eour
historical society hev settled deown intew the opinion, that
they came in both. Select men were chosen and appinted
in them days to rule over the people, and they in turn used
tew select some of the people tew be ruled over, and they
ginerally did this rulin' with a rod. In modern New England varsion, the select men air "old flints," I reckon'cause some on' em air a leetle flinty-hearted. Talkin' of
flints brings me tew an important pint in my subject, and
that is ROCKS.  Nigh ontew all on you hev hecrd abeout
the Rock of Plymouth, and if you hev'nt, it's a darned shame
for it's often enough talked about. The ancient inhabitants of New England, beyond dispute, landed on this rock,
and they found it a pooty solid, steady kind of a footin'.
From this fact grew eout the common sayin' that NewEngland is the land of steady habits.  Heow could they be
otherwise, when they commenced on so solid a foundation?
Without runnin' this rock intew the ground, I'd like tew
say suthin' abeout its antiquity. It is pooty ginerally conceded that afore it was diskivered, it had staid in the same
place a pooty long spell-mabbe anterior to Adam! Who
knows? i'll be durned if I dew.  All I know, and all it's
necessary for me tew  find eout is, that it is there, and I
ruther guess, a'ter I hev handled it a leetle mite there,
I'll leave it. You see here, in this diagram, a correct representation, or as nigh as I can git it, of this identical rock,
(Lecturer points at it,)




164                  YANKEE HILL.
and if you all look sharp, you will see that it is pooty considerable of a stun.  It is known tew be, by a kind of
natural humin cal'lation, an all-sufficient sight older than
the Egyptian pyramids, and anterior tew the present times,
at least 5000 years. Our society aint ben able, as yet, tew
trace the Polk name down tew the airly dynasties of the
select men, but I reckon we will yet find it eout. We
hev, however, in eour archilogical diggin' diskivered the
word Pillow, but whether it was any relation tew  Gideon
Pillow, is not yet sartin.'  The word is thought tew  hev
a soft meanin,' but larnin tew read hieroglyphics, we hev
ascertained that a man named Jacob, who was lost in the
wilderness, pillowed upon a stun.  Now, Gideon bein' also
ancient, a spilit of deduction natrally leads us tew Pillow
and then Jacob pints eout the stun, and here, you see, we
slide right back tew rock from  where we started.  This
explanation, we think, fully establishes this cartouche, which
has been whittled in the old stun by a son of the airly
Pilgirims.
This is the first indication we hev of the tune "Yankee
Doodle," and the sound on it is explained by the steps
and  crow of a rooster, thus: " Yan-kee-doo-deld(an —dy.   One-two-three-four —ooo! (crow.)  The
Arabs, by which we mean the modern portion on'em, used
to visit Plymouth Rock, and bleak off pieces of the stun,




ANECDOTES AND INCrDENTS.              165
Yankee- Doodle-Doo.
eout of which propensity grew the common saying, "I'd
a good deal ruther crack rock." Antiquarians, tew, visited
the old spot, and used tew fill their pockets with pieces
of the stun, which give rise tew the modern expression,
" sech a fellar is in town with a pocket full of rocks.'
You kin see this symbolized in this cartouche.
Rock.
Pocket full of Rocks.
The next stun, or I should say pile of stuns, is the
Monument, and usin' the words of a celebrated NewEngland Savan, " there it stands!"




166                  YANKIEE HILL.
and you couldn't, very easy, make it dew anythin' else.
It is situated on Bunker Hill, named after old Joe Bunker,
who used tew  make shoes rite down at the hill foot.
Whether the rest of the spot and Hills in gineral were
named arter my own ancesters, I aint yet diskivered, but
in future explorations I hev hopes of findin' eout, on some
Hill, a key-stun pinting eout the gratifyin' fact that your
lecturer is descended from  a ginooine old settler.  When
this obelisk began tew be histed up, is a period only known
to the "oldest inhabitant."  Sartain curious inscriptions,
buried in a hollow stun beneath its base, tells all abeout it,
but I aint seen'em, nor I don't expect tew soon do, but I
know  they are there,'cause somebody told me.  Here is a
miniature of it, whittled eout in my smoothest style.  The
great distinguishin' featur' about this stupendous mountain
of stun is the fact, that they begun tew fix it up from  the
top down.  I guess now, mabbe some on you don't b'lieve
this, but ef I could ony git you all intew a mesmeric state
you'd see it jest as easy-I might say, jest as easy as ef
you had your eyes shet.  Some dew say that clairvoyance
is a regular " open and shet;" heow that is, I leave you
tew cypher eout by your own natral bent of genius, while
I proceed tew explain heow the Bunker Hill obelisk was




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               167
built downward.  From  a cute and sarchin' investigation,
I hev diskivered that the hull pile of rock is capped by
one stun.  Now, heow could the pile be put up under that
stun?  I reckon we hev neow arriv at the pint of the
subject. As I said b efore, it is not one stun, but a whole
pile —now, there you hev it-how is it going to git up?
By the simple process (simple when you know it,)-and
there it is, jest like Zacharia Dempson's new patent machine for manufacturin' the wind intew short-cake, by the
simple process of mesmerism, the top stun, and making it
stay there, at jest the height they wanted-tew elevate the
pile above the airth. This diagram shows the slantin' of
the mesmeric fluid, and here you see the top stone.
There is another streak of fluid on the other side which you
can't see, but you can see easy that when the mesmeric
power could hold this stun up here, it was desp'rate easy
tew hitch the other stuns tew the fluid, and by drawin' your
hand down so, (manipulates,) stick'em so consarned fast
that an airthquake couldn't shake'em loose. I don't wonder some of you opin your eyes, for the progress of this
age, in the onward march of antiquarian research, new
diskiveries, and everlastin' upturnin' of new things, keep
continually putting the cap-stun on all preconceived no



168            -      YANKEE HLL.
tions.  I would jest refer you,-and this pile is an astounding illustration of the re-markable difference atween
the ancient New  Englanders, and the ancient Egyptians.
It'll strike you in a moment, and it'll show  you what a
dark  tind be-nighted set they were, as you get east'ard,
while as you get west'ard, as far as the eastern part of this
continent, it'll be diskivered that mankind grew  cute and
cunnin'-y-e-s they did!  The poor yaller-skinned Asiatics,
had no more sense, —I swow, I've a propensity tew bust
rite intew a reglar roar, when I think that a people who
looked so ripe as to be yaller, could be so durnation green.
Would you b'lieve it?-I reckon you'll find it hard tewthese be-nighted people writ deown the history of their monaments rite on their face, jest where every fellar who tuck
the trouble tew larn, could read it right eout in meetin', ef
he'd a mind tew. I say, they writ it right deown on the
stun, so it couldn't be wasked eout with the rain of centuries.  Neow you can see the Egyptin' darkness of these
poor critters.  Heow is it on t'other side?  Heow, and
what distinguishes the ancient New  England monament
builders?  What shows their cuteness?  I kin tell you in
a few words, pertinently delivered.  The New Englanders
buried the history of their monaments in the solid rock,
under the hull pile of stun), and if the futur' sarcher a'ter
ancient New England antiquities, wants tew read it, he'll
hev tew  either know  mesmerism, or else  pull the hull
tremenjus obelisk, cap-stun and all, deown, tew find out
what it's all about. This is what I call cute. It is showin' tew the world that the pryin', sneekin' reound, findin'
eout propensities of futur' ginerations will hev to scratch
and a few, afore they can git intew their secrets.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              169
We now come tew anuther head of our lectur, and that
is HEARTH-STUNS.
This last named antiquity has sometimes appeared in
brick, and then agin in marble; but who found the last
brick thrown in, or at this head of our discourse, eour
society aint yet decided upon.  Where the hearth-stun
lay, however, and what were its gineral uses, is jest as
well known tew eour society, as the big letters in the New
England Primer.  You hev here, in this cartouche, a rude
representation of the hearth-stun.
Clock.
Candle.  |                    Candle.
Stun.
How the inhabitants made use of this stun, is the subject
we shall talk on for a spell.  I cal'late it was in pooty
constant use.  Hieroglyphics relate that Deacon Bigelow
was seated, one evenin' about nine o'clock, on this side;
and on t'other side, jest about there, old Mrs. Bigelow was
sittin' smokin'. A leetle tew the right of Mrs. B., and jest,
I may say, in her shadder, was seated Abby, the eldest
darter, who has jest got in from singin'-school; and rite
opposite tew her is Jedediah Peabody, a spruce, smartlookin' young fellar, son of old Deacon Peabody, who has
ben seein' Nabby hum from the singin' class. Jest abeout
there, frontin' the fire, is seated the deacon's eleventh child
and as he is the last, of course he is a pet. He kin jest
talk plain, and seein' Jed come in with Abby, his eves are
8




170                 YANKEE HILL.
abeout as wide open, as it could be expected any young
critter's would stretch at his tender years. He sees Jed
wink at Abby, (Oh!) and now he watches Abby, and sees
her look pleased, and shake her head at Jed. (Good gracioes!) And so he eyes one, and then t'other, his astonishment growin' on him every minnit, until his Ma says:
MRS. B.-Deacon Bigelow is the cattle critters fed?
DEACON.-(Sleepy)-Well, I reckon Isaiah has gin'em
suthin', and afore this litter'd'em down.
MRs. B.-Is the kindlin' wood brought in tew?
DEACON.-Yes, y-e-s, my dear, all is r-iMRS. B.-Then come along, git up and let us go tew
bed.  You, Abby, mind you kiver the fire up, and fasten
the door afore you come tew bed; and you, Jed, it's time
you were tew hum. Gideon, git up, my child, and dew let
us all git tew bed.
Off they go, and eout in the hall little Gid commences
tew blow on Abby.
GIDEON.-Ma, you ourt tew take your birch tew Jed
Peabody.
MA.-Why, my dear boy, what did Jed dew?
GIDEoN —He kept all the time makin' mouths at Abby?
DEAcoN. —Toddle along Gid, and shet up.
GIDEON. —Shet up! I guess I seed him dew wus than
that; he bit her the other night right on her lips, I seed
him, so I did.
We will neow return tew the hearth-stun. Jed has ben
hitchin' his cheer'round tew Abby, and by hieroglyphical
devices we larn that he gits his cheer chuck up agin hers,
and by the progressive rule by which we decypher the first
part, we conclude that Jed has ben at it agin, the durned




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             17 
critter has ben kissin' on her, or as young Gid calls it, bitin'
her on the lips agin.
From the blue-book papyrus, presarved as a relic of the
reg'lar old mummys who first gathered round Plymouth
rock, we larn that kissin' was so prevalent in the airly days
of New England, that the young folks were at it, not only
only on every day in the week, but Sunday tew; and,
therefore, it was found necessary tew put a stop tew it on
the seventh, by law. I reckon that, like in modern times,
the young folks among the ancients sot Sunday aside as a
day upon which to dew up pooty considerable of that interestin' kind of labor.
The hearth of every true New Englander reveres this
hearth-stun, for around it, no matter whether it be of brick
or marble, gethers the loved associations of hum. It is
endeared to him by the memory of a venerated father, the
fond care of a gentle mother, the sweet love of a bright-eyed
sister, or the manly friendship and affection of a brother.
In infancy he has crowed with glee at the bright blaze
which flashed from its surface-in youth he has listened in
wonder, beside it, to the related history of his Puritan ancestors-in manhood he has whispered a tale of love in the
ear of beauty, by the border of this old hearth-stun, and
sealed on the fair lips of virtue, the pledge of unending
attachment, and in old age, on Thanksgiving Day, he has
gathered around it his children and his children's children,
and like a patriarch of old, thanked his Creator that he
lived to hear again the sweet music of his kindred's voices.
The hieroglyphic seal of this old stun is inscribed on the
heart's tablet of every ginooine Yankee.




172                   YANKEE HILL.
LECTURE ON NEW ENGLAND.
WHo can read the simple history of the Republic of
North America, without emotions of the most pious reverence and deep affection?  With the improvements in
modern navigation, it is now  an every-day affair to see
vessels that have traversed the widest seas; but think of
things as they were then, the vague ideas of this " wilderness world," its savage inhabitants, and its beasts of prey,
that were the horrors of the nursery, as are those now of
Africa and Australasia, and you can form some conception
of the feelings of fathers and their families, on exiling themselves from home, and all that was dear on earth, save their
sacred faith; that, like St. John in the Isle of Patmos, they
might find some ritual in a distant wild.  Our forefathers
came to these shores under convoy of no naval armament;
they brought no trophies of glory; they were not attended
with the pomp and pageantry of the military adventurer, but
with the " simple scrip and staff of the pilgrim;" unlike the
founders of ancient Rome, they were not a set of outlaws and
fugitive felons, but a company of Christian brethren, with
their wives and children, led on by no grovelling cupidity
or worldly ambition, but by unfaltering devotion and faith.
With such an ancestry and history, with institutions calculated to develop the highest dignity of character, with a




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              173
country possessing every thing in the physical and moral
world, to enlarge the mind, what will be the ultimate bound
of our attainments as a people?
A few days since, as I stood upon the top of yonder
capital, the crown of this goodly city, gazing upon the picturesque panorama of which it is the centre, its hive of
human habitations, its spires, its streets teeming with a
countless and stirring multitude, its hum of business, its
wharves and shipping, its green common and drooping
elms, the only remnants of verdure's former realm, its bay
gemmed with islands and whitened with sails, expanding
into the ocean; and when I turned to the numerous villages,
in every direction, clustering around their churches, like
flocks around their shepherds; the different rail-roads with
their trains, like some fabled monsters, exhaling smoke and
fire, and apparently perforating hills, and flying over valleys,
the naval citadel bearing that flag which, though unfurled
but a few years ago, is now respected in every sea,-I was
lost in rapture, as my mind pictured the probable scene but
two centuries ago. On the height where this building is
based, has the Indian hunter paused awhile, to contemplate
this picture of nature, and could he have expressed himself
in the language of the poet, he would have exclaimed,
I am monarch of all I survey!I"
Where stands this proud and noble city, was then an unbroken forest, with here and there a thin wreath of smoke,
betraying the nestling wigwam; the partridge led the young,
where now the Christian mother watches the gambols of her
children-the beautiful fawn sported where the artless girl
winds her way to school, and the cooinggpair built their
little home in the branches beneath which bashful love now




174                   YANKEE tHILL.
woos and wins thefair and pu1re.  Where the thrush made
the common " air most musical," now swells the pealing
anthem of the choir and the organ; the church-bell tolls the
knell of every parting hour where the screams of the panther, and the howl of the wolf, once alarmed the ear of
night; where the eloquence of Webster, Everett, Choate,
and Bancroft, are like household tones, was then heard the
harangue of some aboriginal orator; the bay which now
bears the steamer and the ship, was then unrippled save
by the light canoe and the "black duck with her glossy
breast swinging silently " on the glassy heaving surge.
Alas, for the poor red man!  He has gone with his game
to the fair hunting-grounds of the West; his last arrow is
spent; his bow  is broken; the hand  that twanged its
string has forgotten its cunning.  A  new race and a new
scene have sprung up as by some strange miracle.
If so short a time has made so vast an alteration, what
will it be two centuries hence? it is not in the power of
man to foretell; may each generation advance the embellishment and refinement of this Athens of America, and its
greatness be as enduring as the Acropolis.   The true
greatness of a state has been justly said to consist in the
character of its people.
Men, high-minded men,
With powers as far above dull brutes endued
In forest, brale, or den,
As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude:
Mfen who their duties know,
But know their rights, and knowinzg dare maintain,
Present the long-aimed blow,
And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain,
These constitute a State,




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              175
Though New England cannot boast of rich plantations,
and gangs of laborers producing vast crops of cotton, corn,
and rice, of inexhaustible mines and rich prairies, waving
like lakes of verdure, nor of many fields glistening with
the golden wheat, yet, like the mother of the Gracchii, she
can point to her children and say, " These are my jewels ""here is my wealth."  Can you show  me those who are
fairer, braver, or smarter than these?
When asked by Madame de Stael, " Who is the greatest
woman in the empire?" Napoleon is said to have replied,
" She who is the mother of the most children."  If this be
true, New England will be apt to bear off the palm, for this
is her great staple of produce, and in its quantity she can
vie with any other mother in the world, not excepting Ireland, to say nothing of its quality. She can point you
also to her battle-fields, and the graves of those who have
fallen on the field, or the deck, or have devoted their interests, their wealth, and their lives, to the good of their race
and their country.  She will show  you her churches, her
colleges, her school-houses, her benevolent associations, her
marts, villages, and hamlets, her neat farms, where art and
industry are triumphing overnature, her factories, founderies,
and workshops, where human ingenuity is contriving to
lighten the load of labor, and by giving new value to matter, promote the comfort and refinement of man. She will
there show you her -slaves, of which it cannot be said as of
the lilies, " they toil not, neither do they spin;" but her
right of ownership cannot be questioned, as they are hers by
discovery-machines of her own contrivance, and for which
she has her patent from Washington.  She will show you
her ships, whose, keels cleave every navigable sea; her long
list of distinguished men, her enterprising and thorough




176                    YANKEE HILL.
merchants, and wherever the foot of civilized man has ever
trod, she will show you a representative.
Land of the forest and the rock,
Of dark blue lake and mighty river,
Of mountains rear'd aloft to mock
The storm's career, the ligntning's shock,
My own green land for ever.
Land of the beautiful and brave,
The freeman's home, the martyr's grave,
The nursery of giant men,
Whose deeds have linked with every glen,
And every hill, and every stream,
The romance of some warrior dream;
Oh, never may a son of thine,
Where'er his wandering steps incline,
Forget the sky which bent above
His childhood, like a dream of love,
The stream beneath the green hill glowing,
The broad-armed trees above it growing,
Or hear unmoved the taunt of scorn,
Breathed o'er the brave New-England born.
There is no one concerning whom there have been such
conflicting opinions as the native of this region; he has been
compared to the Scotchman, whom  he resembles in many
particulars, but mingled with these some qualities of the
Englishman, and more that are peculiarly his own.  He can
truly be called an original. This is manifested not only in
his own inventive genius, but in his individuality. as a man.
Wherever you behold him  there is something about him
different from those of other origin.  It is not fair to judge
him by other men, for he is sui generis. If the Virginian
excels as an advocate, the New Englander is distinguished




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               177
as a counsellor.  He is the founder of new States and the
framer of their laws.  As a public speaker, he is more remarkable for sound argument than a playful fancy. He is
more distinguished as a profound statesman than a mere
politician, and makes Demosthenes, rather than Cicero, his
model.  When those from other sections are apt to act in
concert, in the councils of the nation, you find him consulting his own conscience, and acting accordingly, regardless
of immediate consequences.  In sarcasm, he has been unsurpassed, but his favorite weapon is the sledge-hammer,
rather than the rapier; though equable and cool in temper, when once aroused, he is like a lion at bay.  He has
been reproached with a want of imagination, yet he has the
honor to claim  a large majority of our national poets, and
among them those who, at home and abroad, have held the
highest rank.. As a philosopher, he believes in that individual freedom " which protects itself against the usurpations of society; which does not cower to human opinion;
which feels itself accountable to a higher tribunal than
man's; which respects a higher law than fashion; which
respects itself too much to be the slave or tool of the
many."  As an artist, he is pre-eminent in the higher walks
of painting, architecture, and ornamental gardening. As
an editor and political writer, he is unequalled. As a merchant, he sends his vessels all over the world, and owns
two-thirds of the shipping of his country. He is a first-rate
financier, and banks and insurance companies under his
direction are apt to preserve their solvency, and give good
dividends when others are bankrupt.  In the language of
Chtevalier, at the north or the south, in the east as well as
the west, he is a true Marquis of Carrabas.  At Baltimore,
as well as at Boston, in New Oileans as weJ.l:s at Slienm,




178                 YANKEE HILL.
in New York as well as at Portland, if a merchant is mentioned who has made-and kept, by-the-bye a very difficult part of it-a large fortune by sagacity and forecast,
you will find that he is a Yankee.  He will leave his country for the East or West Indies, and after several years absence, return to his native land, erect a splendid villa on the
site of the old homestead, or select some wooded eminence
for his new mansion, and ere long the desert smiles like," Araby the blest."  As a manufacturer, he was the first to
prosecute the business successfully, and has more capital
invested in this branch of industry, than all those from
other parts of his country together.  As a mechanic, he
is constantly studying to save labor and money. He was
the first to suggest to Fulton the idea of steam navigation,
and the first to succeed in propelling vessels in this way.
He was the inventor of the cotton-gin, which has done more
for the culture of cotton and consequent wealth of the
South, than all else together; to use the language of the
popular author we before have quoted, " but for him the
vast cotton plantations of the South would still be an uncultivated waste."  He is the projector of new towns and
internal inmp)rovemcnts, and the principal constructor on all
our public works.  He builds navies and ordnance for the
Sultan of Turkey, war-steamers for the Autocrat of Russia,
machinery for the Emperor of Austria, whale-boats and
whaling-gear for the King of France, and locomotive
engines for England, the boasted workshop of the world.
He is in more than one sense a builder, and had he lived in
the days of Solomon, would no doubt have been a Knight
Templar.
Not an acre of land is cultivated in the Union, not a ship
floats, not an American book is read, not a mea.l eaten, a{




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              179
article of clothing prepared, or a bank-note engraved in this
Union, that is not more or less the product of Yankee
labor and enterprise. As afarmer, he does not suffer himself to be outdone; he not only invents the best ploughing,
planting, mowing, raking, cradling, thrashing, shelling, winnowing, and grinding machines, but he is the best agricultural editor, and is pretty sure to take the premium for the
fattest oxen and pigs, the finest cheese and butter, largest
squashes and pumpkins, in all cattle-shows. He also displays great skill in subduing the wilderness, raises his log
cabin at the falls of St. Antony, displaces the colony of
the beaver, to make room for his saw-mill on the Upper
Missouri. As a sailor and a soldier, our naval' and military
history will speak in abler language than I can command.
He was the first to cross the Atlantic in a steamer; shoot
seals at the South Shetlands, and slay the sea-elephant at
Kergulan's Land; catch cod at Labrador, and  whale at
Delago Bay; was the first to discover, and as yet the only
one who has ever landed upon the Southern polar continent. He takes a peep, by way of curiosity, into the mnelstrom, and would, for a sufficient inducement to warrant
the outlay, contrive to solve the polar problem, and look
into Symmes' Hole.  He hails the Russian exploring expedition when rejoicing at the discovery of a new group of
islands in the Antarctic Ocean, and inquires if they don't
want a pilot?  On being asked who he is, and where he is
from, gives his name as Captain Nat. Palmer, of the
sloop Hero of 60 tons burthen, from Stonington, Connecticut.  The Yankee is, in short, a universal genius; his
native soil is remarkable for its stubborn and sterile roughness, and he can be compared to the oak of his own rocky
hills; strongly and deeply are rooted his principles and




180                   YANK E  HILL,.
habits; if he has not the grace of the Southern palmetto,
he has more of that hardy strength which can wrestle with
the rude storms of life. Like the young eagle reared on
the lightning-rifted cliff, he partakes of the same spirit of
fierce independence and aspiration, looks unawed upon the
storms that rage around him, and though on soaring wing
he may wander leagues away, he is sure to return to the
nestling-place of his attachment.
They love the land because it is their own,
And scorn to give the reason why;
A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none,
Such are they nurtured, and such they die.
All but a few apostates meddling
With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence, and peddling,
Or wandering through the Southern countries, teaching
The A, B, C, or Webster's spelling-book,
Gallant and godly, making love, and preaching,
And gaining, by what they call " hook and crook,"
And what moralists call over-reaching,
A. decent living. The Virginians look
Upon them with as favorable eyes
As Gabriel on the devil in paradise;
But these are but their outcasts-view them near,
At home where all their worth and pride is placed,
And then their hospitable fire burns clear,
And there the lowliest farm-house hearth is graced
With manly hearts in piety sincere.
Faithful in love, in honor stern and chaste,
In friendship warm and true, in danger braveBeloved in life and sainted in the grave.
He has more of steady courage than of romantic chivalry
and impulse. With no other patrimony than a trade, or an
education, he early feels the pressure of that strongest in



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.               181
ducement to action, stern necessity, and does not look for
many examples in his own acquaintance of self-made men
to stimulate and guide him. He is taught in the home of
frugality, that "a penny saved is a penny earned," and
learns in his school-book that " tall oaks from little acorns
grow."  He feels the importance of gradually adding to
his fund of wealth and knowledge; is apt before embarking
in any adventure to count the cost," and is more remarkable
as a shrewd and safe operator than an improvident speculator; yet he has no objection to laying out his farm  iltto
town lots, but is rather apt to sell before there is a fall in
the market.  He possesses a great deal of common sense,
as well as brass, and is remarkable for his yeneral information.  More inquisitive than communicative, and is celebrated for picking up knowledge by the wayside; he is
ever seeking something new, and how  he can turn it to
profitable account; rather reserved and suspicious, when
appearances are not marked  0. K., but clinches those
whom judgment has once approved with " hooks of steel;"
he is the true alchymist, for he possesses the power of
converting the baser metal into gold, and the divining rod
held in his hand is pretty sure to point out the hidden ore.
Regarding cash as the primum  mobile, he acts upon the
principle that there is "no  friendship in trade," and is
therefore a keen fellow at a bargain; yet when he has once
amassed a fortune, he richly endows literary and charitable. institutions, and is kind to the poor.
It has been our misfortune to be judged too much by
hawking  pedlers, who make the "rule of three" their
"golden rule," and the arithmetic their creed.  I once
knew  two individuals who set up in trade together in a
western village.  Aftel looking over tle ground, they con



182                  YANKEE HILL.
eluded that it was best for one to join a certain church, the
other a certain political party, and they turned up a copper
to see which each should join.  He has the convenient
capability of adapting himself to every situation, and it has
been said, that if you place him on a rock in the midst of
the ocean, with a penknife and a bundle of shingles, he
would manage to work his way ashore.  He sells salmon
from  Kennebec to the people of Charleston; haddock,
fresh, from Cape Cod to the planters of Matanzas, raises
coffee in Cuba, swaps mules and horses for molasses in
Porto-Rico, retails ice from Fresh Pond, in Cambridge, to
the East Indians-mutton, from Brighton, at New Orleans
and South America; and manufactures morus multicaulis
for the Governor of Jamaica; becomes an admiral in foreign
navies; starts in a cockle-shell craft of fifteen tons burden,
loaded with onions, mackerel, and other notions, too numerous to mention, for Valparaiso; baits his traps on the
Columbia River; catches wild beasts in Africa, for Macomher and Co's" Grand Caravan;" sells granite on contract to
rebuild San Juan de Ulloa-is ready, like Ledyard, to start
for Timbuctoo to-morrow morning-exiles himself for years
from his home, to sketch in their own wilderness the " wild
man of the woods," and astonishes refined Europe with the
seeming presence of the untutored savage.  When introduced to Metternich, he asks him " What's the news?"
says " How do you do, marm," to Victoria; and prescribes
"Thompson's eye-water " to the mandarins of China!
He is found foremost among those who sway the elements of society; is the schoolmaster for his country, and
missionary to the whole heathen world.
He is unequalled in tact, and instead of travelling round
about ways, starts "across lots " for any desired point.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              183
He has come nearer to the discovery of perpetual motion
than any other man; and if ever it is made, we guess he
will be the lucky chap to do it. He is the man to
Bid harbors open, public ways extend,
Bid temples worthy of his God ascend;
Bid the broad arch the dangerous flood containThe mote projecting, break the roaring main;
Back to his bounds the subject sea command,
And roll obedient rivers through the land.
I' cannot close this lecture without addressing a few
words to the women of New-England.  Her beaming
eyes and charming smiles remain to awaken and reward
the pulsations of patriotism; her affection and tenderness solaced and sustained the fainting pilgrim; and in
the days that tried-men's souls, she gave confidence to the
desponding, and energy to the weak; her kind hand assuaged the sufferings of the wounded, and her bosom pillowed the head of the dying.
Whether as a wife, a mother, a sister, or a friend, she
has the strongest claims upon our affection and gratitude,
and holds, of social enjoyment, the golden key. She first
implants the lessons of piety, and garlands our home with
flowers of love and bliss; she is the guardian angel of our
lives, and guides our feet to purity and peace. I will not
say more at this time, than that there is nothing which
more clearly marks the degree of refinement among a
people than the station of " Heaven's last best gift;" and
we can add, that there is no part of the world, where, with
all classes she commands the high respect, and exerts the
influence that she does in New-England.




184                   YANKEE HILL.
CHIPS FROM SARATOGA.
SARATOGA, in the fashionable season, perhaps presents
the best menagerie of "human critters" for the study of
the curious, of any other place in the United States. Not
only is the animal, man, there seen in the greatest variety,
but under the most advantageous circumstances for those
who are fond of seeing him  in the full display of extradomestic habits and manners.  In a place where so large a
number assemble from  all parts of the United States,
from all professions, and from all classes of people as are
to be met with in Saratoga, it would be strange if, with
some elegance and refinement, there was not a tolerable
sprinkling of coarseness and vulgarity; with much of the
quiet dignity and repose which characterizes the well-born
and the educated, there was not a great deal of ignorant
assumption, and contemptible purse-pride.  The face of
society in this country is continually changing.  The high,
commanding forehead of to-day, is down in the mouth
to-morrow; and the proudly turned-up nose of yesterday,
is laid flat by some plebeian fist to-day. The aristocracy of
our families seldom lasts beyond a generation, or two, and
in no place in the United States can you more plainly see
the influences of the great democratic principle of equality
more savagely struggling to maintain its supremacy than
in the fashionable watering-places of the Union.  For a




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              185
season or two, or perhaps three, you may possibly meet
the same families, but for the most part in that time you
will experience a great change both in the manner and
quality of the visitors.  The fluctuations in cotton, or the
decline of tallow, has produced wonderful changes. Parties who, in your remembrance, were content with a cheap
excursion to Coney Island, are now ambitiously apeing the
manners of the ton at Newport or Saratoga; and those
you perhaps envied there, as the observed of all observers,
for a few seasons, are now content with a maritime excursion
along the shores of Long Island.
Mr. Hill visited Saratoga on many occasions, and always
met with a hearty support from  the gay loiterers to his
evenings' entertainments. I know not what advantage Mr.
Hill might have derived from his observation of character
on these visits, but I regret to say, he has left very few
written records of his experiences.  From  the nature of
the notes he made, and which are now in my possession,
it is evident that he intended, at some time or other, to
enlarge upon them for future use.
In 1846, Mr. Hill visited Saratoga professionally.  On
the first day, he went to dinner at the United States Hotel;
he was seated opposite a little, round dumpling of a man,
whose fat, red face displayed an utter absence of everything
like care, and whose happy smile showed, if not the possession of a good heart, a most undeniable integrity of
digestion. He was evidently a stranger to those little conventionalisms which distinguish polite society. He was not
easy.  He fidgetted in his chair, rubbed his hands, wishing, as it appeared, to hide the confusion of his feeling in
the exuberant action of his body.  He looked up and
down the table not a little puzzled to make a choice from




186                  YANKEE HTLL.
the endless variety of dishes upon the table. At length his
eye distended, and the smile upon his face became brighter
and broader.   "Waiter," said  he, " are those green
peas?"
" Yes, sir."
"What! green peas?"
" Yes, sir."
"Give me some, waiter; don't take them  away.  I'm
very fond of green peas: don't take them away."
" Ah! woodcock, waiter.  Is that woodcock?"
"Yes, sir."
"Give me some woodcock, waiter.  Don't take them
away, waiter: I am very fond of woodcock."
He now set to work upon his woodcock and peas, and
whilst busy devouring the luxury, a gentleman acquainted
with Mr. Hill, and who sat next our fat friend, said  " I
am very happy to see you at the Springs, Mr. Hill."
The little man dropped his knife and fork, and after
staring Mr. Hill full in the face for a moment, turned to
the gentleman who had spoken, inquired of him " who was
that man over there-and what is he-and what does he
do?"
A great many things," replied the other, with a very
serious air.  He is a great delineator of Yankee character.
He can put his face in ten thousand shapes, and imitate the
look and manners of every man he meets."
"You don't say so?"' Yes,-sir; he gives an entertainment to-morrow night,
and you had better take care what you do or say, or he will
show you up in the most laughable style. He has monstrous power."
The little man became at once very serious. He was




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.           187
not so silly as not to know that he was a little out of
place in the company, in which a plethoric purse alone had
given him  a place, and he dreaded the idea of becoming an object of ridicule. The green peas faded before
his eyes, the charms of the woodcock had taken wing and
flown away.  As soon as possible, after. dinner, he sought
an opportunity of speaking to Mr. Hill. Approaching to
where he stood, he tapped him  gently on the shoulder, and drawing him on one side, said: "' Look here, Mr.
Hill, you are not going to make the folks laugh at me, are
you?"
"Make the folks do what at you?"
"Laugh at me."
"Why, what put such an idea into your head?"
"Why I was told you was —you see, Mr. Hill, I'm a kind
of strange among these folks here, but at home I am
"some pumpkins."   Now, I don't mind standing five or
six dollars, if you won't say nothing about me. Now, don't,
Mr. Hill, won't you?"
" Never fear," said Mr. Hill; "it is not my province nor
my nature to pick out individuals, to show them up to ridicule; so there's no fear."
"Well, now, that's hearty; and if that waiter has not
taken away the peas and the woodcock, I'll go and finish
my dinner."  So taking Mr. Hill cordially by the hand,
he went on his way rejoicing.
There is a class of young men,- who let their dresses
wear them, instead of wearing their dresses. They are
but, at best, mere human appendages to a given quantity
of broadcloth and starch.  Classes of the softer sex, if




188                  YANKEE HILL.
anything can be softer than the male class referred to, are
equally liable to be infected with the same weakness.
Saratoga abounds with humans of this genus.  I do not
know that one would care anything about them, if it were
not, that, presuming upon the unexceptionable character
of their attire, they did not thrust themselves upon one's
notice. If they were only endowed with discretion enough
to keep their mouths closed, they might pass muster as
very respectable lay figures for the use of tailors and milliners, but they seldom have judgment enough for that,
and out of their own mouths they stand condemned.
On one occasion, as Mr. Hill was standing at the door of
the United States Hotel, he saw approaching him a human
figure dressed in the extreme of fashion: his hat, with
extraordinary ingenuity, was balanced on one side of his
head, apparently prevented from falling off by the aid of a
large bundle of curly hair.  His upper lip was thatched.
He held in his hand a little cane, with which he would
occasionally beat the side of his leg, with a courage quite
remarkable, considering the fragile nature of his supports.
HIe shuffled towards Mr. Hill in the most affected manner.
" How do, Mr. Hill, deloighted to see you. I shall patronoize you, to-night, I shall, pon honor."
" I shall be happy to see you at my entertainment,"
replied Mr. Hill.
"Ah, much obleeged.  I like to patronoize such persons
as you, you are so demned entertaining: you are, pon
honor."
"I feel profoundly sensible of your kind intentions of
patronoizing me," said Mr. Hill, mimicing the tone and
manners of the exquisite, "but I would not have you" run
any risks on my account."




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.             189
"Whoy, it's only a half."
"Oh, ah! that is not what I meant; but I should be
afraid if you should come, and be struck with an idea, it
might prove fatal."
"Sir!"
"And then, sir, you know if I should chance to have
the honor of waking you up to a hearty laugh, some of
your gearing might give way, and no one can tell what
might be the awful consequences."'" Ah! eh! you are demned funny.  I shall certainly
patronoize you, at all events; and I intend to bring Miss E.
with me, pon honor.  She is one of the most charming
cree-tures you ever saw,-dresses so well, and —- all!
there she is, delightful cree-ture.-I shall bring her with
me, to-night, pon honor. Bye, bye, Mr. Hill, depend on
my patroinage." Saying which he departed.
If it were not for the amusing monkey antics of such
fellows, it would be a fortunate thing if they could all be
brained with a Webster's spelling book, or some other fatal
instrument of that character. Actors are particularly liable
to be insulted by promises of patronage from just such
brainless animals as he who volunteered to countenance
Mr. Hill.  They do not look uponihe actor as one belonging to a profession which requires talent, energy, and study,
for its successful pursuit, but as a mere instrument of their
amusement,-not having a particle of value in society beyond the emotions they can create from the stage.  The
actors are, themselves, in a great measure, to blame for
the low appreciation put upon their art. If they were only
to study the part they have to play upon the real stage of
life, as they do those they represent upon the mimic one,
they would not so often as now be insulted by the patron



190                 YANKEE HILL.
age of purse-proud asses, and ignorant dandies. But, to return to Saratoga.  At dinner, on the day Mr. H. encountered the exquisite, he had the pleasure of sitting opposite
the- charming Miss E., whose beauties and accomplishments
his " patron " had so highly eulogized. She appeared to be
about nineteen years of age, rather stout, but of delicate
complexion. Her hair was flaxen, her eyes blue, and her
nose approaching the pug, and she lisped.
" Thelina, dear," said she, to a lady who sat next her,
"have you thelected your dreth for the mathquerade thith
evening?"
" Yes, I have."
" Do you know what I am going to wear?"' Well, not precisely."
"Oh, thuch a love of a dreth. I am going to appear ath
a Highland Thotch Lath.  Than't I look a divinity?  Mr.
E. thayth he thall be perfectly enthanted, and will not
allow me out of his thight the whole evening; won't that
be delithous?   Ma thayth-do you?-that thee really
thinkth Mithter Higginth will propothe before we leave the
Springth; oh, dear! eh! eh! eh!"
"Oh, scissors," said Mr. Hill, and left the table in a roar
of laughter.




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              191
A FAMILY PICTURE.
MR. HILL, in one of his many visits " down east," was
belated one evening, and was compelled to seek shelter at
a small farm-house.  He thus describes the family party
and the family doings on that evening.
The heads of the family were a Mr. and Mrs. Jones, who
were honored, on this occasion, with a visit from a plain
sort of man, who told me, said Mr. Hill, that he teached
school in winter, and hired out in haying time.  What this
man's name was, I do not exactly recollect. It might have
been Smith, and for convenience' sake, we will call him
John Smith.  This Mr. Smith brought a newspaper with
him, which was printed weekly, which Mr. Jones said-as
it did not agree with his politics-was a very weakly
consarn.
Mr. Jones was seated one side of an old pine table, and
Mr. Smith on the other.  Mrs. Jones sat knitting in one
corner, and the children under the fire-place-some cracking nuts, others whittling sticks, &c. Mr. Jones, after
perusing the paper for some time, observed tc Mrs. Jones,
My dear!"
MRS. JONES. Well.
MR. JONES. It appears.
MRS. J.  Well, go on.
MR. J. I say, it appears.




192                  YANKEE HILL.
MRS. J. Well, law souls, I heard it; go on.
MR. J.  I say, it appears from a paragraph     
MRS. J. Well, it don't appear as if you were ever going
to appear.
MR. J.  I say, it appears from a paragraph in this
paper
MRS. J.  There-there you go again.  Why on airth,
Jones, don't you spit it out.
MR. J.  I say, it appears from  a paragraph in this
paper   -
MRs. J.  Well, I declare, Jones, you are enough to tire
the patience of Job. Why on airth don't you out with it.
MR. J. Mrs. Jones, will you be quiet.  If you get my
dander up, I'll raise Satan round this house, and you know
it, tew.  Mr. Smith you mtist excuse me.  I'm  obliged to
be a little peremptory to my wife, for if you wasn't here
she'd lick me like all natur. Well, as I said, it appears
from this paper, that Seth Slope-you know'd Seth Slope,
that used to be round here?
MRS. J.  Yes; well, go on; out with it.
MR. J. Well, you know he went out in a whalin' voyage.
MRs. J. Yes, well.
MR. J. Well, it appears he was settin' on the stern,
when the vessel give a lee lurch, and he was knocked overboard, and hain't written to his friends since that time.
MRs. J.  La, souls! you don't say so.
Before going further, I will endeavor to give you some
idea of this Seth Slope.  He was what they term, down
east, "a poor shote;" his principal business was picking
up chips, feeding the hogs, &c., &c. I will represent him
with this hat.  (Puts on hat.)
" Mrs. Jones says I don't know nothin', and Mr. Jones




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            193
says I don't know nothin', (laughs;) and everybody says I
don t know nothin'; and I say I do know nothin', (Laughs.)
Don't T pick up ril the chips to make the fires? And don't
I feed the hogs, and the ducks, and the hens?  (Laughs.)
And don't I go down to the store every morning, for a jug
of rum?  And don't I take a good suck myself?  I don't
know nothin' —ha-(laughs.)  And don't I go to church
every Sunday? and don't I go up stairs, and when the
folks go to sleep, dont' I throw corn on'em to wake'em
up?  And don't I see the fellers winking at the gals, and
the gals winking at the fellers?  And don't I go home
and tell the old folk; and when they come home, don't
the old folk kick up the darndest row?  (Laughs.)  And
don't I drive the hogs out of the garden, to keep'en
from rooting up the taters? And don't I git asleep there,
sometimes, and don't they root me up.  (Laughs.)  And
didn't I see a fly on Deacon Stoke's red nose, t'other day;
and didn't I say, " Take care, Deacon Stokes, you'll burn
his feet?"  I don't know nothin', eh  (Laughs.)
This Mrs. Jones I have spoken of, was a very good kind
of woman, and Mr. Jones was considered a very good sort
of man; but was rather fond of the bottle. On one occasion, I recollect particularly, he had been to a muster, and
came home so mnuch intoxicated, that he could hardly
stand, and was obliged to lean against the chimney-piece, to
prevent himself from falling, and Mrs. Jones says to him,
" Now, Jones, aint you ashamed of yourself?  Where on
airth do you think you'd go to, if you was to die in that
sitiwation?"
JONES, ( Very drunk). Well, I don't know where I should
go to; but I shouldn't go far, without I could go faster
than I do now.
9




194.                 YAKNEE HILL.
As soon as Mr. Jones had finished the paragraph in the
paper, Mrs. Jones threw  on her shawl, and went over to
her neighbors to communicate the news.  I will endeavor
to give you an idea of Mrs. Jones, by assuming this shawl
and cap. (Puts onf shawl and cap).)
"Well, Mrs. Smith, I suppose you ain't heard the
news?"
"La, no, what on,airth is it?'"
"You recollect Seth Slope, that used to be about here?"
"Yes, very well."
" You know he went a whalin' voyage?"
" Yes."
"Well, it appears, from an advartisement in the papers,
that he was sittin' on the starn of the vessel, when the
vessel give a lee lurch, that he was knocked overboard and
was drowned, and. that he has not written to his friends
ever since. Oh, dear! it's dreadful to think on. Poor critter!-he was such a clever, good-natured, kind soul.  I
recollect when he was about here, how he used to come into
the house and set down, and get up and go out, and come
in agin, and set down, and get up and go out.  Then he'd
go down to the barn, and throw  down some hay to the
critters, and then he'd come into the house agin, and get
up and go out, and go down to the store and get a jug of
rum,-and  sometimes he'd take a little suck of it himself.
But, la, souls! I never cared nothing about that.  Good,
clever critter!  Then arter he'd come back with the rum,
he'd set down a little while, and get up and go out, and
pick up chips, and drive the hogs out of the garden; and
then he'd come into the house and kick over the swill-pail,
and set down, and stick his feet over the mantel-piece, anid




ANECDOTE'S AND IsC1 I.:N r.              1.)5
whittle all over the hearth, and spit tob:cco juice all over
the carpet, and make himself so sociable. And poor fellow!
now he's gone. 0h, dear! how dreadful wet he must have
got!  Well, Mrs. Smith, it goes to show that we are all
accountable critters.




196                YANKEE HILL.
A POOR SPECIMEN OF THE YANKEE CHARACTER, AND A TOLERABLE FAIR SAMPLE
OF THE IRISH  CHARACTER.
THE New England people are noted for their hospitality;
for although they will shave you as closely as possible in a
bargain, even to the paltry amount of a few cents, they do
not object to give you a dinner that will cost ten times as
much as the advantage they might get in a bargain. There
are black sheep in every flock; and the old lady, of whose
meanness I am going to relate, was one of them.  A poor,
way-worn traveller of an Irishman, stopped at a small farmhouse in the neighborhood of Worcester, and asked for a
bowl of bread and milk. This simple refreshment is usually
given to all who ask the slight repast, without a wish for
any other remuneration than the satisfaction to be derived
from the doing of a benevolent act.  The old lady to whom
the poor Irishman appealed was not to be rewarded in
this way, and when the poor fellow had partaken of his
bread and milk, and some hard, indigestible cheese which
was placed before him, he asked what there was to pay.
He had but a twenty-five cent piece in the world, but he
was proud for all that.
Wh \y," said the old lady, " seeing as how you have
drank a powerful lot of milk, and our cows are very dry




ANECDOTES AND INC'IDENTS.             I 97
this summer-indeed they are the driest lot of ciilters you
ever did see, and as for cheese, I never dew expect to see
another bit of cheese as long as I live.  I guess I must
charge your twenty-five cents: yes, jest abeout twenty-five
cents."
The poor Irishman reluctantly threw down his quarter,
and walked towards the door.
"Look here, my good man," exclaimed the old woman,
"you've been travelling reound a good deal, I dare say,
and may be you can tell suthen that will cure the rats."
"Faith! maim, you may say that.  But what's the
matter wid de craythurs-what's the disase?"
"Oh! they aint got no disease.  They are abeout the
heartiest lot of rats you ever did see. They have gnawed
clear deown from the garret into the cellar, and I do wish
I could get suthen as would drive'em  away from  the
house."
" It's me, marm, that knows what will drive'em awaylike St. Patrick driv away the varmin from ould Ireland."
" Dew tell —there's a good man!"
"But I'll have to charge you fifty cents for it, for I'm  a
poor boy."
" Oh! I don't mind what I pay, if you'll only drive them
away, so that they'll never come back again;" and so
saying, the old lady put another down upon the one she
had just received from Pat.
The Irishman put both into his pocket.
Well, marm," said Pat, " I'll tell you what will drive
them away, so that they'll never come back: you must
get a large bowl —not such a one as I've been eating from,
but a much larger one if you plase —fill it full of milk, but
don't skim the crame off as you did for me, crunble some




198                 YANKEE  IILL.
stale bread into it, and be sure you don't use it fresh
baked, for it aint good for their little stomachs; then let
all the rats come round and ate.  Don't disturb them,
marm, if you plase, but let them ate as long as they've a
mind to, and when they get through, charge them twentyfive cents a piece, and, by St. Patrick, they'll never trouble
your house again!"




ANECDOTES AND INC DENTS.             199
A DINNER PARTY AS WAS A DINNER PARTY.
THE announcement of the highly-successful comedy of
" The Green Mountain Boy " was presented to Mr. Hill by
its author, during his first appearance in Boston, at the
Warren-street Theatre.  The success of this piece was
celebrated by a dinner, at the lodgings of its author.  Besides Mr. Hill, some of those who had performed in the
piece were invited, and other gentlemen, friends of the author, making in all about twenty guests. Dramatic authors
are not often in a position to give entertainments, but in
this case, Dr. -, occupying  an eminent position in
another profession, could afford this almost incredible undertaking.  The day before the dinner was to be given, the
author received a note from Mr. Hill, desiring that all the
company should wear white wigs upon the occasion, and
also to give notice that he should take the liberty of bringing a friend whom he had accidentally met, and whom he
had believed to have been dead a number of years.
In order rightly to understand the purport of all this, I
must recur to some events which occurred the day before.
Mr. Hill was very fond, when walking along the street, of
attracting the attention of the passers-by, by making some
odd quotation from the dramatic store ever at his commalnd.




200                  YANKEE HILL.
"The babe died with its mother " —" He cut her throat
from ear to ear," and such like sayings.  Frequently he
has been stopped by some verdant news-hunter, desirous to
be informed the particulars of the heroic story thus dimly
shadowed forth.  This was often the cue for some extravagant invention that would have made even Baron Munchausen blush.
About the time of which I am writing, there was a great
religious excitement in Boston against the theatres.  Fanatical ranters were denouncing  everything. of a dramatic
character.  They mixed play-acting and intemperance in
such groggy proportions, that many of the well-meaning
temperance advocates became so intoxicated with the doses
administered, that they fell off the temperance platform,
stumbling upon the stage.  At this time Mr. Hill had been
playing, with great eclat, Mawworm, in the Hypocrite.
One morning, whilst passing down Washington-street, he
was invited by a friend to drink.  " No," says Hill, " I
will never drink again," and seeing a seedy individual approaching-black dress, white cravat, &c.-he exclaimed
aloud, a la Mawworm, "'tis true-and she cut her throat
from ear to ear."
" Say, friend," said the seedy gentleman, attracted by
the manner of Hill, " what did she cut her throat for?"
"Because her husband got drunk," replied Hill.  "I
knew her well, poor critter."
" Tell me all about it," anxiously asked the seedy gentleman.
Mr. Hill's invention never was at a loss in such a case,
and he made the hair stand on end upon the head of the
astonished listener, when he related the horrors which led
the woman to cut her -throat flron ear to ear.  Baut, how



ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.              201
ever, rum is the cause of such real horro s, that little merit
is due to Hill's invention in picturing forth its evils.  No
imagining can equal the reality.
The stranger invited Mr. Hill to his room, near by, where
the tracts were printed  for gratuitous distribution, by
which the community of reformers hoped  to chase sin
from the city.
Hill told Mr. Spyman, as we will call the gentleman in
black, (his real naime being concealed for good reasons)
that he was out of employment at present, but that he
could write, and would like to compose some tracts.
Spymanr thought he might do, telling him if he would
write a good one against the theatres it might do much
good.  After discussing temperance, and other congenial
topics of the day, Mr. Hill proposed that his new friend
should call at No.  ~  Washington Street, at 6 P. M. on
the following day, informing Spy man that a committee meeting was to be held for the purpose of buying up all the
theatres and converting them into meeting houses, and the
actors into preachers.  Hill gave his name as Duzanberry.
Spyman was very much pleased  with the invitation, and
agreed to be there, Hill also promising to meet Spyman
at the tract room  in the morning of the same day.  Hill
kept his appointment, and, as a finish to the morning's
work, proposed to introduce Spyman to the celebrated Mr.
Mawworm.
At 5 P. M. on the day of the dinner, there were assembled at No.          Washington Street, twenty individuals, determined on enjoyment, and each  prepared  to
furnish his quota of wit, song, sentiment and humor.
Mr. Hill came without his friend, but announced that
lie would mingle with " society" before the board was




202                   YAKNEE H-ILL.
cleared.  The whole party, without at all comprehending
Hill's intentions, complied with his request, and appeared
in white wigs.  They made, as may readily be imagined,
rather an outrd appearance. Two Irish lads, waiters in the
house, were dressed in livery, and answered to the wellknown dramatic names of Doriscourt and De Valscour.
After the cloth was removed, and the wine was circulating,
a general request was preferred to Mr. Hill that he should
explain the object of this dining in wigs. Mr. Hill deferred
his reply for the present.  The bell rang, and Doriscourt
came into the room, and said a Mr. Spyman was below,
who inquired for Mr. Duzanberry. Mr. Hill announced that
he was Mr. Duzanberry, and that the object of Spyman's
visit was to have Hill read a tract.  He acquainted them
with his interview of the day before. The company now
began to smell some fun, immediately resolved themselves
into a committee of twenty, for the reception of the envoy
of the Reform Club.  Glasses and bottles quickly disappeared, and De Valscour was ordered to show in Mr. Spyman.  Says Hill this is the text from the tract from which
I shall preach:-" A house divided against itself cannot
stand."  All I ask of you is to keep sober, and whatever I
command do it.
De Valscour entered, and following him, Mr. Spyman.
Hill requested the company to rise and join with him in
singing a solemn dirge, which they did very gravely.
Spyman was introduced to the company, Mr. Hill giving
to each the name of some celebrated preacher.  Spyman
seemed a good deal puzzled with the white wigs, but the
gravity impressed upon every face seemed to satisfy himi
of the honorable order of the meeting'.
Spyman responded to the i.ittroduction, and commenced




ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.            203
a tirade against actors and acting, and said he had just received a note, informing him that a play actor named Hill
had held forth in the theatre against reform.  He then
read the note, which was as follows:
"Mr. Spyman,
" SIR:-That notorious Yankee Hill, (a general titter
in the company) is going to playact again next week in the
theatre.                    Yours,      "A FRIEND."
The reading of this note produced sundry winks and
girations of fingers in the company. Hill advised Spyman
to reply to the note through the papers, and commenced
explaining, after the manner of Mawworm, much to the
delight of his friends, and to the surprise of Mr. Spyman.
At length he drew out the tract, and giving Mr. Spyman
some home thrusts for his ignorance and bigotry, politely
informed him that he was Mr.    Yankee Hill, and that
he could not consistently preach against actors or theatres, for you know my text, "A house divided against itself
cannot stand."  Spyman was astonished, and looking upon
Mr. Hill with a mingled expression of sorrow and anger,
lifted up his hands and departed.  The company covered
his confused retreat with a rollicking chorus. At his exit
the bottles and glasses were brought back, and song and
anecdote resumed.
The story of this committee business was soon noised
abroad, and caused a great deal of amusement, for Spyman
was well known all over the city.  In playing Mawworm
upon the stage, Mr. Hill frequently alluded to the committee, which the audience received with evident satisfaction.
THE END.