LETTER II.
Pineville, Georgia, May 10, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—This is a world of
disappintment, shore enuff. All my plans is busted up,
and I don't know if any thing ever sot me back much
worse before. You know I had evry thing fixed for a
journey to the North this summer, with my famly.
Well, last nite, bein as we was gwine to start the next
mornin, we had a little sort of a sociable party at our
house, jest by way of makin one job of biddin good
by to the nabours. 'Mong the rest of 'em, old Mr.
Mountgomery come to see us and wish us good luck on
our journey.
Mary and all of 'em was in a monstrous flurryment,
and had little Harry all dressed out in his new clothes,
to let the nabours see how pretty he looked before
he went away. Old Mr. Mountgomery's monstrous
fond of children, and always makes a heap of little
Harry, cause he's so smart; and the old man tuck him
up on his knee and ax'd him whose sun he was, and
how old he was, and a heap of other things what the
little feller didn't know nothing about.
“Don't you think it'll improve his helth to take him
to the North?” ses Mary to him.
“O, yes!” ses he; “no doubt it'll be a great deal
of sarvice to the little feller; but he'll be a monstrous
site of trouble to you on the road, Mrs. Jones.”
“Yes!” ses Mary; “but Prissy's a very careful
nurse; and she's so devoted to him that she won't
hardly let me touch him.”
“O, yes!” ses the old man; “if you could jest take
Prissy 'long with you, then you'd do very well. But
there's it, you see—”
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“What?” ses Mary; “you didn't think I was gwine
to the North without a servant, did you, Mr. Mountgomery?”
The old man laughed rite out. “Ha, ha, ha!” ses
he; “taint possible you is gwine to take Prissy with
you to New York, is it? Why, Majer,” ses he to me,
“haint you got no better sense than to think of takin
sich a valuable nigger as that with you, to have her fall
into the hands of them infernal abolitionists?”
“The mischief take the abolitionists,” ses I; “I
reckon they haint got nothing to do with none of my
niggers.”
The old man shuck the ashes out of his pipe, and
laughed like he would split his sides.
“Why, bless yer soul, Majer,” ses he, “you couldn't
keep her from 'em a day after you got to New York.
No, no!” ses he; “not sich a likely gall as that.
They'd have her out of yer hands quicker'n you could
say Jack Robinson.”
Prissy's eyes looked like sassers, and Mary, and
mother, and all of 'em stared like they didn't know
what to say.
“Why, Massa Gummery!” ses Prissy, “um wouldn't
trouble me if I was long-a' Massa Joe, would dey?”
“To be sure they would, nigger!” ses Mr. Mountgomery;
“they'd take you whether you was willin
or not, in spite of yer Massa Joe, or anybody else.”
“But,” ses Mary, “Prissy wouldn't leave us on no
account—she knows as well as anybody when she's well
treated; and I'm sure she couldn't be better taken care
of no whar in the world.”
“That don't make-no manner of difference,” ses the
old man. “They wouldn't ax her nothing about it.
The fust thing you'd know she'd be gone, and then you
mought as well look for a needle in a haystack, as to
try to find a nigger in New York.”
Then he took a paper out of his pocket and red whar
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a gentleman had his nigger tuck from him, somewhar
in Providence, and carried rite off and put in jail.
“Ki,” ses Prissy, lookin like she was half scared out
of her senses, “den I aint gwine to no New York, for
dem pison ole bobolitionists for cotch me.”
“But aint ther no law for nigger stealin, at the
north?” ses old Miss Stallins.
“Law!” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “bless you, no!
They've sold all ther niggers long ago, and got the
money for 'em—so the law don't care whose niggers
they steal.”
Mary sot and looked rite in the fire for 'bout a minit
without sayin a word. I jest saw how it was. It wan't
no use for me to think of her gwine with me, 'thout
Prissy to take care of the baby; and after what Mr.
Mountgomery had sed to her, I mought jest as well try
to git her to stick her hed in the fire as go to New
York. I never thought of them bominable abolitionists
before, and I never was so oudaciously put out with
'em. It was enough to make a man what wasn't
principled agin swearin, cus like a trooper. Just to
think—every thing reddy to start, and then to have
the whole bisness nocked rite in the head by them
devils.”
“Well,” ses Mary, “thar's a eend to my jurney to
the north. I couldn't think of gwine a step without
Prissy to take care of the child; and spose I was to git
sick, too, way off 'mong strangers—what would I do
without Prissy?”
“Oh! it wouldn't never do in the world,” ses old
Miss Stallins.
“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, you could git plenty
of servants at the north when you git thar.”
“What!” ses Mary; “trust my child with one of
them good-for-nuthin free niggers? No, indeed! I
wouldn't have one of 'em about me, not for no considerashun.
I never did see one of 'em what had any
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breedin, and they're all too plagy triflin to take care
of themselves, let alone doin any thing else.”
“No! but,” ses the old man, “they've got plenty
of white servants at the north, what you can hire for
little or nothing.”
“Goodness gracious!” ses old Miss Stallins; “white
servants! Well, the Lord knows I wouldn't have none
of 'em 'bout me.”
“Nor me neither,” ses Mary. “It may do well
enuff for people what don't know the difference between
niggers and white folks; but I could never bear to see
a white gall toatin my child about, and waitin on me
like a nigger. It would hurt my conscience to keep
anybody 'bout me in that condition, who was as white
and as good as me.”
“That's right, my child,” ses old Miss Stallins; “no
Christian lady could do no such thing, I don't care who
they is.”
I know'd the jig was up, and I was like the boy what
the calf run over—I didn't have a word to say.
“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “the're brung up
to it.”
“Well,” ses Mary, “the more sin to them that brings
'em up to be servants. A servant, to be any account
as a servant, is got to have a different kind of a spirit
from other people; and anybody that would make a
nigger of a white child, because it was pore, hain't got
no Christian principle in 'em.”
“But,” ses Mr. Mountgomery, “you know, Mrs.
Jones, when you're in Rome, you must do as Rome
does. If the northern people choose to make niggers
gentlemen, and their own children servants, you can't
help that, you know.”
“Yes; but,” ses Mary, “niggers is niggers, and
white folks is white folks, and I couldn't bear to see
neither of 'em out of ther proper places. So, if I've
got to have white servants to wait on me, or stay at
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home, I'll never go out of old Georgia long as I live,
that's what I wont.”
“Then, Mary,” ses I, “is our journey to be busted
up, shore enuff?”
“O no, Joseph; you can go, and I'll stay home with
mother. Maybe I won't have many more summers to
be with her, and I'd feel very bad afterwards, to think
I neglected her when she was with us.”
The old woman put her arms round Mary's neck, and
squeezed her til the tears come into her eyes.
“My sweet, good daughter,” ses she; “bless your
dear hart, you always was so kind to your pore old
mother.”
That made Mary cry a little; and little Harry, thinkin'
something was the matter, sot up a squall, too, til his
mother tuck him and talked to him a bit, and then
Prissy come and carried him in tother room.
I didn't know what to do. I always hate terribly to
be backed out of any thing what I've sot my mind on;
but to go to the north without takin' Mary along, was
something I didn't like to think about. But then, after
all my 'rangements was made, and I'd shuck hands and
bid good-by to 'most everybody in Pineville, it was too
'bominable bad to be disappinted thataway. But after
a while I told Mary I'd stay home, too, and go some
other time.
“No, no, Joseph,” ses she; “I know you want to
go, and I want to have you go, cause it'd do you good
to see the north and git acquainted with the world.
When little Harry gits big enuff so he can take care of
himself, then we can take a journey together in spite of
the old abolitionists; and then you'll know all about
the country, and it'll be a great deal pleasanter for
us all.”
“That's a fact; Mrs. Jones is right, Majer,” ses Mr.
Mountgomery. “You'd better leave your famly at
home this time. You wont be gone more'n a month
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or so, and I reckon Mrs. Jones ain't afraid to trust you
that long 'mong the Yanky galls.”
Mary blushed terrible.
“But,” ses I—
“O! you ain't 'fraid of her runnin off with anybody
fore you git back, is you?” ses he. Then the old feller
laughed like he would die.
“Ain't you 'shamed, Mr. Mountgomery, to talk that-a-way?”
ses Mary.
“You needn't be 'fraid of that, brother Joe,” ses
sister Calline, “for me and Kizzy 'll watch her monstrous
close while you're gone.”
“Shaw,” ses I; “you can't make me jealous.”
“Nor me, neither,” ses Mary.
Then old Mr. Mountgomery laughed till he knocked
the fire out of his pipe all over himself, and that sot the
galls and all of 'em to laughin worse than ever.
But I tell you what, Mr. Thompson, (and you're a
married man and will blieve what I say,) I didn't feel
much like laughin myself. I never did like this Yanky
way of married people livin' all over creation without
seein one another more'n once in a coon's age; and
the idee of 'gwine off and leavin' Mary, for a whole
month, tuck all the rinkles out of my face whenever I
tried to laugh. But the difficulty was, I couldn't help
myself. If I staid home, I couldn't be contented
about it, and all the fellers would be rigin me, 'cause I
could'nt leave my wife long enough to go to the north.
So I made up my mind to go anyhow, and make the
best I could of it.
Bimeby old Mr. Mountgomery 'lowed it was time
to be gwine home; so he bid us good-by, and promised
to come and see me off to-morrow mornin.
After the old man was gone we all sot round the fire
and talked the thing over in a family way. Mary looked
monstrous serious, but she's got too much good sense
to make a fuss 'bout sich things. She ses I must rite
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to her every day, and I must be very careful and not
git shipracked or blowed up in any of the steambotes
or rail-rodes, and I must take care and not ketch no
colds by exposin myself in the cold weather at the north,
whar people, she ses, dies off with the consumption like
sheep does with the distemper.
All our trunks has got to be overhauled and my
things put by themselves, so I can't start til to-morrow
morning. I'm gwine as far as Augusty in my carriage,
and then take the rail-rode to Charlston. If no other
botherment don't turn up to pervent, you shall hear
from me on my Travels pretty soon. So no more from
Your frend, til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P. S. Prissy's raised a perfect panick 'mong the niggers
on the plantation 'bout the abolitionists. Pore
creeter, her hart's almost broke cause she can't go to the
north with her misses and little massa Harry; and I do
blieve she's as fraid of the abolitionists as she is of the
very old Nick himself. You ought to hear some of the
niggers' descriptions of 'em. When Prissy told old
Ned what Mr. Mountgomery sed—how they carried off
all the niggers they could ketch, and put 'em in jail so
they couldn't never go back to ther white folks, ses he
to her—“Ki, gall, youna no tell dis nigger nuffin bout
dem cattle; cus 'em, me hear ole massa tell bout 'em
fore you born. Aligator aint no suckemstance to 'em.
'Em got horns like billy-gote, and big red eyes like ball
ob fire; and 'em got grate long forkit tail like sea-sarpent,
and jes kotch up pore nigger, same like me hook
'em trout. Ugh, chile, dey wusser'n collerymorbus.”
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LETTER III.
Augusty, Georgia, May 12, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—This far I have travelled
in the bowels of the land without any diffikilty,
as Mr. Shakespeer ses; but whether I'm gwine to git
safe to my jurny's eend, or find myself like Jony in the
bowels of a whale's belly before I git home agin, is a
bisness what opens a fine field for speckelation, as the
cotton byers ses.
But that's neither here nor thar. I sot down to tell
you 'bout my jurny to this city. Well, this mornin all
the famly was up before the crack of day gettin reddy
for me to start. Everything was reddy three or four
days ago, but it seemed like the nearer the time come
to start, the more ther was to do. Thar was old Miss
Stallins in the kitchen raisin a harrycane among the
niggers 'bout gettin breckfust for me—the niggers was
all crazy 'bout my gwine away—Ned was rairin and
pitchin 'bout the lot cause one of the little niggers
let the horses git out of the stable—some of the harness
was lent—old Simon had tuck the tar-bucket
off with him, so ther wasn't no way to grease the carrige—
Prissy upsot the tea-kittle, gittin some water for
me to shave—Fanny tripped up and spilt all the biskits
in the yard—the galls was lookin for the kee of my
trunk, what couldn't be found no whar—little Harry
was squallin like blazes cause he couldn't have on his
new hat and cote and go with me in the carriage—and
in the middle of the everlastin rumpus, I like to cut my
nose off with the razer!
Bimeby though, things all settled down into a pretty
considerable calm. Ned cotcht the horses—the harness
was brung home—the wheels was greased—the kee
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was found rite whar Mary had put it herself—little
Harry stopped cryin—my nose stopped bleedin, and
breckfust was sot; but after all ther wasn't one could
eat a mouthful, spite of all the 'swadin old Miss Stallins
could do.
Mary tuck on considerable, pore gall; though she
tried to hide it all she could. She didn't have much
to say, but she looked monstrous droopy; and whenever
I tried to cheer her up by tellin her I wouldn't
stay no longer than I could help, her lips would sort o'
quiver, and she'd turn round to tend to the baby or
something; but when she looked at me agin, her long
eyelashes was damp with tears. Ah! Mr. Thompson,
me and you know how to preciate the deep pure founting
from whar them tears flowed—we married men
know how to vally the ever-gushin feelins of a true
woman's hart, which, like the waters of the spring what
no summer can't dry up and no winter freeze, is coolest
when the day is hottest and grows warmer when the
world grows cold. I felt monstrous bad myself, but it
wouldn't do to let on, for I know'd it would only make
her worse.
By this time old Mr. Mountgomery, and cousin Pete,
and a heap more nabors, and all the niggers on the
plantation, was come to bid me good-by. Old Termination,
my driver, was mounted on the box, with his
clean clothes on, and a bran new lash to his whip, the
proudest nigger you ever did see. He couldn't notice
none of the rest of 'em for his shirt collar, but if any
of the little niggers come too close to his team, axin
him to by 'em something in Augusty, he was monstrous
apt to anser 'em with a little tetch of the lash.
When the trunks was tied on, and old Miss Stallins
was sure ther wasn't nothin forgot—which she sed she
know'd ther would be—I went through the shakin hands
with the nabors.
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“Good by, Majer,” ses old Mr. Mountgomery, “I
wish you a plesant jurny and a safe return.”
“Thank you,” ses I.
“Good by, Joe,” ses Pete—“don't you git in no
fuss with them abolitionists—if you do, old feller, you
won't find no frends thar, mind I tell you.”
“Don't you fear for me,” ses I—“Good by, and
take care of yourself.”
“Good by, Majer,” ses all of 'em, as they shuck my
hand.
Then here come all the niggers.
“Good by, Massa Joe,” ses all of 'em.
“Good by,” ses I, “and be good niggers till I come
back.”
“Don't let none of dem pesky old bobolitionists kotch
you, Massa Joe,” ses Prissy.
“Massa Joe, massa Joe, ant Moma say cum da!”
ses one of the little niggers.
Pore old Moma was the fust nigger my father ever
owned. She's more'n a hundred years old now, and
her hed's as white as the cotton she use' to pick for us
when she was a gall. She's been monstrous porely this
winter, and hain't been able to go out of her little house
in the yard, whar she's lived ever sense she was too old
to do anything on the plantation. She was 'fraid I was
gwine off without bidden her good by, and that's the
reason she sent for me. She was settin in the door
when I went to her, and she raised her old dim eyes,
almost white with age, and looked at me.
“Why, Massa Joe, God bless you; you gwine away
widout tellin pore ole Moma good by?—ole Moma
what use to nuss you, when you was leetle baby like
leetle massa Harry. Moma no able run after Massa Joe
now—maybe ole Moma neber see you gin. Pore ole
Moma, lib too long—make trouble for white fokes; but
Moma's time mose come.”
“No, no, Moma,” ses I, “you mustn't talk that
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away. You know you aint no trouble to us, and you
was always a good servant.”
The pore old creeter brightened up, and tried to
smile.
“Good by, Moma,” ses I, as I tuck her pore old
hand in mine; “take good care of yourself till I cum
home, and let your young misses know whenever you
want any thing. Good by, old nigger.”
“Bless ye, bless ye, Massa Joe—bless Miss Mary
and leetle massa Harry. God bless you all—good
by.”
The faithful old creeter tried to press my hand, but
she was too weak, and when I let go her hand it drapt
into her lap, and she follered me with her eyes as far as
she could see me through her tears.
Then cum the kissin bisness. I took the worst job
fust, and kissed old Miss Stallins and mother. I didn't
mind kissin mother, cause it seemed all right and
natural; but I always did hate to kiss old wimmin
what hain't got no teeth, and I was monstrous glad
old Miss Stallins had her handkerchef to her face, for
in the hurryment I kissed it, and the old woman was
in such a flustration she didn't know her lips from any
thing else. I kissed the galls two or three times a
piece, rite afore cousin Pete, who smacked his lips,
and looked sort o' cross-eyed every time. But when
I cum to look for Mary, she was gone in the house.
Thar she was, sittin in her rockin chair, leanin her face
on her hand, and the tears runnin down her cheeks
in a stream. When I got close to her she riz up and
put her arms round my neck.—I can't tell you what
she sed, nor how many, nor how long, nor how sweet
them kisses was. Them's famly affairs, and ain't for
nobody to know. After she dried her eyes as well
as she could, she went with me to the carrige. Prissy
was holdin little Harry reddy for his kiss. I tuck the
little feller in my arms and gin him one good long
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squeeze, and then got in. Termination popped his
whip and away he went, leavin Mary and all of 'em
cryin cause I was gone, and the baby kickin and
squallin like rath cause he couldn't go too.
Separashuns is monstrous tryin things to peeple what
ain't use to 'em, and I couldn't help feelin very sollumcolly
all the way to Augusty. The rode is one of
the lonesummest in the world, and I never was so
put to it to keep my sperits up. Ther was nothin
new or interrestin to attract my 'tention, and whenever
I thought bout home the worse I felt. Mary's partin
injunkshuns was still soundin in my ears, and whenever
I shut my eyes I could see her standin on the
piazzy lookin after me, with the grate big tears runnin
down her cheeks, and sparklin like dimonds in her
curls, that was hangin in disorder 'bout her sweet
face; and then thar was little Harry puttin out his dear
little arms and cryin like his hart would brake, cause
he couldn't ride in the carriage with me. It wouldn't
do to think of them things, so I tried to sing, and
the fust thing I know'd, I was hummin the song what
begins:
Ther's meetins of pleasure and partins of grief,
But a inconstant loveyer is worse nor a thief;
A thief he will rob you, and steal all you have,
But a inconstant loveyer'll take you to the grave.
You mustn't think that song was suggested by any
jellous fears on my part; no indeed, not by a jug
full: but you know how wimmin will talk sumtimes on
sich occasions. They say a heap, jest to see what
you'll say.
I got here about noon and stopped at the Globe
Hotel, and sent Termination back home with the carrige.
Pore feller, he hated to leave me monstrous,
and when he shuck hands with me, he couldn't hardly
speak, and his eyes looked like two peeled unions
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swimmin in their own juice. “Good bye, Massa Joe,”
ses he, “but don't stay away from Miss Mary long, if
you spec to see her live when you cum back.”
After dinner I tuck a walk down the street to see
the town. Augusty's a monstrous pretty city, but it
ain't the place it used to was, not by a grate site.
It seems like it was rottin off at both eends, and ain't
growin much in the middle; and the market-houses
what a few years ago you couldn't hardly see for the
wagons, looks more like pretty considerable large martin-boxes
standin in the middle of the grate wide
street, than places of bisness. The peeple that laid
out the city must been monstrous wide between the
eyes, and made very large calculations for bisness;
for they've got it stretch'd out over ground enuff to
make two or three sich towns, and Broad street, whar
the stores is, is wide enuff for the merchants to charge
exchange from one side to tother. I see by the papers
that they're gwine to dig a big canal, as they call it,
and turn the river up stream into the common, so
they can go into the mannyfacterin of cotton. That's
a sort of bisness I don't know nothin about, and I can't
say how it'll turn out, but there's one thing very certain,
and that is, if the Augusty people don't do something
to start bisness agoin agin, all the houses in the
city won't rent for enuff to feed 'em. The fact is, if
the people of Georgia don't take to makin homespun
and sich truck for themselves, and quit their everlastin
fuss 'bout the tariff and free trade, the fust thing they'll
know, the best part of their popilation will be gone
to the new States, and what'll be left won't be able
to raise cotton enuff to pay for what they'll have to buy
from the North.
The fust man I met in Broad-street was Mr. Peleg.
“Why, hellow, Majer Jones,” ses he, “what's brung
you to town?”
I told him I was gwine to the North.
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“Well!” ses he, “Majer, you must spend a day
with us, enny how, and I'll interduce you to some of
my friends here. They're all admirers of your's, and
would be very glad of a oppertunity to make your
acquaintance.”
Well, I walked along with Mr. Peleg to his store,
and on the way he interduced me to 'bout twenty gentlemen,
most all of 'em Pelegs. 'Mong the rest, Mr.
Peleg introduced me to Doctor Klag, perfesser of horticulteral
science in Augusty. Mr. Peleg told me that
the doctor was the greatest man in his line in them
parts, for he could make trees grow twice in two places.
Dr. Klag certainly looks like he might be a genus of
some sort, and seems to be very much tuck up with his
perfession, for the fust thing he sed to me was something
'bout cedars and arbor-vites, what he sed he'd
warrant not to dy. Ther was some mistake about
it, which wasn't very clearly explained by Mr. Peleg.
The Doctor's got one very curious sort of a oysterlookin
eye, and tother one has a kind of sky-rakin look,
so you can't tell what upon yeath he's lookin at. He
sed he'd call agin, and Mr. Peleg and me stepped
into a watch store whar ther was some more Pelegs,
and then, rite next door, we went in whar ther was a
lot more of 'em. They was all very glad to see me,
and invited me to come up to Mr. Lampblack's that
evenin, to hear a lecture on the moon, by some great
perfesser, whose name I've forgot. They all seemed
like monstrous clever fellers, but I couldn't see how
upon yeath they was all named Pelegs, for they didn't
look no more alike than any body else. But jest before
tea, my old frend Whiskers, what scared Mary so
up to Athens, you know, (would you believe it, Mr.
Thompson, every bit of his sorrel hair drap't out when
he read that Athens letter of mine, and now it's grow'd
all out as black as your hat!) come round to see me
and told me all about the Pelegs.
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Well, they is the devilishest set of fellers for playin
tricks on peeple ever was trumped up any whar, you
may depend. Every now and then they're ketchin
up some green feller, and puttin him throo, as they
call it. I'll jest give you a instance. T'other day
one of General Kittledrum's lutenants come over from
South Carolina to git up a singin skool in Augusty.
He brung his commishun from the Guvernor as a
recommendation. That was enuff for the Pelegs, who
tuck him in hand and soon got up all sorts of a skool
for him. He had 'bout a hunderd of 'em down on
his list, at twenty-five dollars a quarter, in no time.
The feller was almost out of his senses at the idee of
makin his fortin so soon, and was willin to do any
thing the Pelegs sed was necessary to stablish his
repetation as a music-master. In the fust place, they
tuck him into a back room and made him put his
hands on the globes, and swore him 'bout his faith
in certain doctrinal pints which they sed was very
important in a singin master. One of 'em red out,
in a very solem voice, bout the rain fallin upon the
yeath forty days and forty nites; and then another one
sed to him, “Lutenant Odin, with your rite hand
on the celestial globe and your left hand on the
terestial globe, do you swar to that?” Ses he, “I
do.” Then they swore him bout Samson killin the
Fillistines with the jaw-bone of a jackass, and bout
Faro and his host get in swallered up in the Red Sea,
and a heap of other things. Then, after puttin him
throo the manuel exercise for bout two owers, rite in
the brilin sun, they sed he must give 'em a specymen
of his vokel powers at the theatre, before all his skollers.
Well, they rigged him out on the stage, and had him
howlin all manner of meeters and kees, and givin explanashuns,
afore a whole theater full of Pelegs, till
they got tired of the fun, when the fust thing the feller
knowd, a man stepped on the stage, and rested him
-- 026 --
[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]
for hos steelin, rite in the middle of Old Hunderd, on
a high kee. The pore feller was skared almost to deth,
and swore he never tuck a horse nor nothin else what
didn't belong to him, in all his born days—he tuck out
his comishun and show'd the guvernor's hand-ritin.
But all he could do or say didn't signify nothin. The
constable tuck him to a room whar the Pelegs hold their
courts, and thar they put him throo a reglar trial, and
made a convicted hos theaf out of him by the strongest
kind of testimony. Some of the Pelegs was his frends,
and done all they could for him; but it was no use—he
was condem'd to be hung according to Carolina law,
and was to be sent to jail to wait till the day of execution.
The pore feller trembled so he couldn't hardly
stand, and the swet started out of his face like he'd
been mawlin rails all day. His frends told him his
only chance was to escape when they was takin him to
jail, and promised that they'd try to git him loose from
the constable, and then he must run across the bridge
into Carolina as if the very old Harry was after him.
Shore enuff, when they got him near the bridge, his
frends got him away from the constable, and a straiter
coat-tail than he made across that old bridge, was
never seed in Georgia. And that's the last that's
ever been seed or heard of Lutenant Odin, the singin
master.
I spected something wasn't rite when I seed so many
of 'em; but they know who to project with. They
didn't git me to go to none of their lecters on the moon,
mind I tell you.
I'm gwine in the morning to Charleston. It's monstrous
late, and the rale-road starts before day-light.
So no more from
Your frend til deth, Jos. Jones.
-- 027 --
LETTER IV.
Charleston, S. C., May 15, 1845.
[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—I arriv here last evenin 'bout
three o'clock, rite side up, all safe and sound. Fore day-light
yesterday mornin the nigger at the hotel in Augusty
nocked me up, and told me the omnibus for the railrode
was waitin for me. I wasn't no time gettin reddy, and
in a few minits I was ridin over the bridg what Lutenant
Odin clared so quick when he got loose from the
Pelegs, on my way to the Carolina railrode.
I never was in the land of shivelry before, and I had
a good deal of curiosity to see what kind of a place it
was whar the people lived what they say all sneezes
every time Mr. Calhoun takes snuff—and whar General
Kittledrum's men was born “with arms in ther
hands,” reddy and termined to take Texas from the
Mexicans, whether or no. Well, my opinion is, if Mr.
Dickens was to see Hamburg he wouldn't find the same
fault with it that he did with Boston. The white and
red paint in Hamburg wouldn't hurt his eyes much, and
when he went to sleep at night he might be monstrous
certain that he'd find it thar in the mornin. The fact is,
Hamburg is like the Irishman's horse—it is little but it's
ould. It was bilt long before the flood, and is got the
marks of antickuty in evry old rotten shingle, evry unnailed
clapboard, and in evry broken pane of glass.
Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Thompson; I ain't like
some travellers into foreign parts, what takes pains to
humbug ther readers 'bout evry grate city they visit, jest as
if nobody was ever thar before. Not by no means. When
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[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]
I say Hamburg was bilt before the flood, I don't mean
the flood what drownded out all creation cept old father
Noey and his cargo of varmints, but I mean the flood
of 1840, what overflowed the whole country from
Shoolts's Hights to the Sand Hills in Georgia, settin the
fences and gin-houses a shassain and dancin hands-allround
with the pig-pens and chicken-coops of a thousand
river plantations. The oldest inhabitants of Hamburg
is all antydeluvians, and some of 'em is sposed to
be amfibious. History don't give any satisfactory account
of whar they cum from, but it's generally blieved
that the illustrious founder of the city is one of the same
Dutch of what tuck Holland. He's a monstrous man in
his way, and though he didn't bild a ark—cause he had
no warnin beforehand—he bilt a bridg what's stood a
thousand thunderstorms and freshets, and all the floods
sense the days of Noey couldn't tear it up. It was very
early in the mornin when we druv through the city to
the depo, and I couldn't form much of a opinion 'bout
the bisness of the place. At that time o' day it was
monstrous still and looked very much like a barn yard
does when ther's hawks about.
Jest before we got to the depo, ses the man what's
captain of the omnibus, ses he, “Major, I'll take your
fare, if you please.” Cum to find out, he meant a half
a dollar, for carryin me and my baggage to the railrode.
He's a monstrous clever little man, but a terrible politishan—
so I paid him, and he soon sot us down on the
platform by the cars.
Ther was a considerable bustle and fuss bout the depo,
gettin reddy to start. The passengers was gittin ther
tickets and ther checks for ther baggage, what some fellers
was nockin about like they would tear the hide off
evry trunk ther was thar, stowin 'em away in the cars—
some people was runnin about biddin good-by with ther
frends, and tellin 'em not to forgit a heap of things, and
sum was kickin up a rumpus cause they couldn't see ther
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trunks after they was put in the cars. Bimeby evry
thing was fixed, and here cum old Beelzebub, with his
fire, smoke, sutbags and thunderations, to carry us to
Charlston. When I saw that everlastin, black, ugly
thing cum chug up agin the cars for 'em to tackle it on,
fizzin and fryin, and smokin like a tar kill, I thought
how if I was a hos or a mule, I'd take my hat off to it.
If ther ever was a thing what deserves a vote of thanks
from all the pullin generation of animals, I think it's the
locomotive ingine. Jest to think, the amount of hos flesh
it has saved sense it tuck to carryin the mails. A locomotiv
always seems to me to cum nearer a livin animal,
than any other machine invented by man, specially sense
they've got to hollerin at the cows when they git on the
track. It's a monstrous fractious, spiteful, headstrong
sort of a creeter, and sumtimes it takes it into its hed to
run off the track, but generally speakin it's jest about as
governable as any other team, and don't take no more
to feed it accordin to its size and strength. I can't help
but have a sort of feelin for 'em, and I wouldn't no more
think of makin 'em go without givin 'em plenty of wood
and water, than I would of makin my horses work without
givin 'em plenty of corn and fodder.
Ling! ling! went the bell. “All aboard,” ses the
captain, and the next minit away we went with the thunderinest
rattlin, puffin and snortin I ever did hear. In
a few minits Hamburg was out of sight, and the pine
trees went dancin along behind us, as if ther roots
couldn't hold 'em in the ground when they saw us
comin among 'em.
Ther ain't nothin much to interest the traveller on the
railrode from Hamburg to Charlston; and if a man
can't find no company in his thoughts, he's monstrous
apt to be lonesome. Along at the fust ther wasn't many
passengers, and most of them was preachers what
had been up to Augusty to tend a convention. They
was the dryest set of old codgers I ever met with, til the
-- 030 --
[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]
joltin of the cars shuck up ther idees a little, and then
they fell to disputin about religion like all rath. After
awhile one old feller, what had his hed tied up with a
red cotton handkerchef, and didn't belong to the same
church with the rest of 'em, mixed in with 'em, and in
about five minits they got into one of the hottest kind
of argyments 'bout sprinklin and dippin. The old hardshell
laid about him like rath, and the louder the racket
and the more dust the cars made, the louder the old
feller fired away at 'em, and whenever he stopped for
breth, two or three of the others was down on him like
a Yankee thrashin-machine. They kep up one everlastin
string of argyment about forty-five miles long, and to
them what sot a little ways off from 'em, and could only
hear a few words now and then, it sounded zactly like a
reglar cussin match; and sumtimes they'd look at one
another like they meant jest what they sed. Bimeby the
old hardshell caved in for want of breth, and all the rest
of the way he was hockin and hemin, and tryin to git the
dust and sinders out of his wind-pipe.
Evry now and then we stopped and tuck in more passengers.
'Bout halfway to Charlston we tuck in two
ladys and a little baby. One was a old lady, and she
held the little boy, which was a butiful little feller, 'bout
the size of my little Harry, in her lap. The other was
a handsome young gall, and she was cryin. You know
how butiful a pretty woman looks when she's cryin, but
you know that's the very time no gentleman ought to
stare at 'em. Well, she tried to dry her eyes as fast as
she could, but every now and then the tears would bust
out agin in grate big draps, and then she'd put her handkerchef
to her face. Sumtimes she would look at a
ring she had on her finger, and then the tears would
come agin. I felt monstrous sorry for her, but I tried
not to let her see me lookin at her. Bimeby a sort of
skimmilk-lookin feller cum and tuck a seat rite close by
her, and looked her rite spang in the face, like he was
-- 031 --
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gwine to eat her up. The pore gall hadn't a very strong
stummuck, I spose, and turned away from him. He foller'd
her, and she turned back again, and thar he was
agin, with his everlastin sheep's eyes, lookin her rite in
the face. Thinks I, drat your imperence, I wish that
gall was my cousin. Just then she looked up to me,
as much as to say, Sir, did you ever see such insurance?
and I looked back to her, as much as to say, No, Miss,
I'll be drat if I ever did; and the next minit I gin the
feller a sort of a cross-cut look, as much as to say he
was a infernal imperent puppy. He looked back that
he begged my pardon, he didn't know she was any
thing to me; then I looked a kickin at him, if he didn't
look out, and he looked tother way a little while, and
then tuck himself off into another car. The young lady
sot thar a minit or two, then looked the sweetest kind
of a thank you, sir, to me, and went and tuck a seat by
the side of the old lady. They talked together, and
looked over now and then towards me.
Nothing didn't turn up of interest on the way, and
bimeby I begun to see signs of town. The closer we
got to Charlston, the thicker the plantations and houses
begun to git. Bimeby I could see the steeples; and in
a few minits more we was rollin along among the little
old frame houses, til we got to the depo. And now
the fuss commenced. Sich a everlastin rumpus I never
seed before. Soon as the gates was open here cum a
gang of fellers with whips in their hands, poppin and
snappin about 'mong the passengers, axin us to go here
and go thar, and whar's our baggage, and if we was
gwine to the boat, and more'n twenty thousand other
questions before we could answer the fust one. The
fust thing I knowd a feller had one of my trunks one
way and another one had tother carryin it off in another
direction, while two more was pullin the life out of my
carpet bag to see which should have it. I shuck the
two fellers off my trunks monstrous quick, and was jest
-- 032 --
[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]
gwine to tackle the chaps what had my carpet bag,
when who should I see but my old frend, Bill Wiley,
what used to live up to the old Planters' Hotel, in
Madison, you know.
“Why, bellow, Majer,” ses he, “is that you?”
“I blieve it is, Mr. Wiley,” ses I, “but thar aint no
tellin how long I'll last, if I don't git away from these
oudacious scamps.”
“Well,” ses he, “Majer, jest pint out your baggage
to Patrick here, and then foller me.”
I show'd 'em to Patrick, and then went with Mr.
Wiley and got into the omnibus, what tuck me, with a
whole lot of other passengers, to the Charlston Hotel.
When I got thar, they axd me to put my name down
in a big book, and then it tuck me 'bout a ower to git
the dust and smoke off my face. As soon as I was
done washin here cum three or four niggers with little
short-handled brooms, and begun to sweep the very life
out of me. I hollered at 'em and ax'd 'em what in the
mischief they meant; but they jest thrashed away as
hard as they could lick it—first at me and then on their
hands—keepin up the devlishest drummin I ever heard;
and the more I twisted and turned to try to git out of
ther way, the harder they kep at it. Bimeby I sent one
of 'em a lick aside of his hed, what put a stop to his
fun, and the rest tuck the hint; but one tall yaller feller,
what wanted to make a few extra flourishes, got a kick
jest as he was leavin, that raised him-right off the floor.
I never did see the like of 'em in all my born days. I
do blieve they'd have a brush at a man if they had to
throw him down and hold him. Mr. Wiley said it was
all right, and that they was only tryin to git the dust
off me. That all mought be, but I don't see no sense
in brushin the breth out of a man if he is got a little
dust on his clothes.
In the afternoon I tuck a walk over the city to look
at the fine bildins and the ships. I tell you what,
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Charlston aint no fool of a city. Meeting street, and
King street, and Market street, is very fine, and has got
sum monstrous handsum bildins in 'em. The best part
of the streets is too narrow and crooked, but Meeting
street is a butiful width, and from the Charlston Hotel
down to the bay, has got sum as pretty views as I ever
seed in any picter. After tea I went down to the place
they call the Battery. The wind was blowin monstrous
stiff, and the waves from the sea cum rollin in and
slashin the nasty salt water all over me. It was a very
lonesum place, and smelled like a old shot-gun what
hadn't been cleaned out for a long time. They tell me
here it's nateral for the sea to smell so, and that people
soon gits use to it, so they don't mind it. The place
made me feel sort o' sollemcolly, and I started to go to
the Hotel. It was sum time before I could find the
way, and as I was walkin along in the moonlight, I
passed lots of ladies and gentlemen. I heard sum
sweet female voices and saw sum butiful faces which
made me think of Mary, and by the time I got to the
Hotel I was homesick as the mischief. I went to my
room and tried to go to sleep; but ther was a company
of midshipmen and navy officers in the next room what
had jest cum home from a long voyage, and they was
drinkin wine and singin “we wont go home til mornin,”
and makin speeches, and breakin glasses, so I
couldn't sleep a bit; and the merrier they was the worse
I felt.
This mornin I tuck another walk to look at the soldiers.
They had a general musterin of the shivelry
here to bury a officer, and I tell you what's a fact,
Charlston can parade a pretty respectable showin of the
nation's bullworks. There was sum fust rate companys
and a good many fine lookin officers among
'em. The Guvernor was thar in his regimentals, but I
could'nt see General Kittledrum. Ther was one little
officer thar what had so much military sperit in him,
-- 034 --
[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]
that it put him cumpletely out of shape. He didn't
stick more'n 'bout three feet out of his boots, and he
looked like a jack-knife that was opened so far that it
bent over back. Its a terrible pity that he couldn't
grow a little bigger, or simmer down his sperit a little
more, for the sword is certainly too much for the skabbard.
They say he's a fust rate officer, only he's a
little out of proportion. The fact is, we may say what
we please, and laugh as much as we've a mind to, 'bout
Carolina shivelry, but ther ain't no mistake about it,
Carolina is a gallant little state, and every sun she's
got's a soldier.
I'd like to stay in Charlston two or three days, but
I hain't got time now. When I cum back from New
York I'll know more about cities, and then I can make
up my mind better about Charlston. I'm gwine to
Wilmington in the steamboat this afternoon. Pervidin
she don't bust her biler, nor git blow'd to ballyhack by
sum bominable harrycane, you will hear from me agin
soon. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P. S. I've jest bought me a hickory stick what I'm
gwine to toat, and it won't be well for these fellers to
come pullin and haulin 'bout my baggage and brushin
all the buttons off my clothes, wharever I stop in futer.
You know I'm a peaceable man, but I can't stand evry
thing.
-- 035 --
LETTER V.
Washington City, May 18, 1845.
[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I left off my last
letter to you only a few minits before the omnibus cum
to take me from the Hotel to the steambote. Well, I
was a little behind the administration in gettin my trunks
packed agin, and cum monstrous nigh gettin left. But
Patrick got me down to the wharf jest as the last ring
was dyin out of the bell, and in a few minits I was
afloat on salt water for the fust time in my life. You
must know I fell in a mill-pond once when I was a boy,
and was pulled out by old nigger Ned, jest when I had
'bout tuck my last swaller, and I spose it's that what's
always made me have sich a mortal dred of water whar
I can't tetch bottom ever sense. I felt monstrous jubus
'bout gwine aboard, and if ther was any possible way
of gettin round it I wouldn't a run no sich risks you
may depend.
It was a butiful afternoon, and the passengers was all
as lively as crickets, talkin and laughin and lookin at
the city as the steambote went spankin along with her
flags a flyin, and her wheels turnin the sea into soapsuds,
and leavin a white track in the water behind us. Ther
was a heap of ships and steambotes all about—sum
standin still, sum gwine out and sum cumin in; and
little boats not bigger than a feedin-trough was dodgin
all about, with ther white sails a shinin in the sun like
sand-hill cranes in a rice-field. The city kep gettin
smaller and smaller, til bimeby Fort Moultry, whar you
know the Carolina boys licked the British so in the revolution,
didn't look no bigger than a fodder-stack. I
looked around for the shore, but the sky seemed to cum
-- 036 --
[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]
down to the water on every side, til it looked jest like
the crystal of my watch, 'thout a spot of yeath to put
one's foot on as far as my eyes could see. I begun to
feel monstrous skary, and I don't blieve I ever did draw
sich long breths before in all my born days. I do blieve
I thought of all the ship-racks I ever red of in my life,
and I would a gin ten per-cent, of all I had in the world
to had my life insured. I held on to the side of the
boat with both hands, and kep as fur off from the biler
as I could. But the ladys and the little children didn't
seem to mind it a bit, and after we was out of sight of
land about a ower I got a little over my skeer.
Bimeby a nigger feller commenced ringin a bell as
hard as he could ring, and hollerin out—“Gentlemen
what hain't paid ther passage will please to walk up to
the captin's office and settle!” As soon as I could git
a chance I paid for my tickets, and pretty soon after that
the bell rung agin for supper. We had a fust rate supper,
but sumhow it didn't seem natural to be swimmin
and rockin about in the sea, and eatin at the same time,
and I didn't eat much. Besides, ther was a sort of
sickish feelin cum over me in the supper room, and I
went up on the roof agin as quick as I could to smoke
a segar, thinkin it mought make me feel better.
By this time it was night, but the moon and stars was
shinin above and below—the only difference in the sea
and the heavens bein that the stars and moon in the
water was dancin and caperin about like they was out
of ther senses, while them in the sky was winkin and
twinklin in ther old places as quietly and sober as ever.
I got a light for my segar and was jest beginnin to smoke
when a nigger feller cum up to me, and ses he:
“Massa, no smokin lowed aft the machinery.”
“The mischief ther ain't!” ses I, and I went away
back to the hind eend of the boat and tuck a seat, and
commenced a right good smoke to myself. But I hadn't
been thar more'n a minit before here cum the nigger
feller agin.
-- 037 --
[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]
“You musen't smoke aft the machinery,” ses he.
“Well,” ses I, “I ain't near yer machinery.”
“No; but,” ses he, “you is aft.”
“Aft what?” ses I.
“The place for gentlemen to smoke is forard,”
ses he.
“Well,” ses I, “my buck, I don't understand your
gibrish, but if you'll jest show me whar I can smoke
'thout any danger to your machinery, I'll go thar.”
With that the bominable fool begun to snicker, til he
seed my cane was takin the measure of his hed for a
nock down, when he straitened up the pucker of his
face and sed—
“Cum this way, sir; this is the forard deck, massa.”
I follered him over to the fore eend of the boat, whar
sum more gentlemen was smokin. I hadn't tetched a
drap of licker in a coon's age, but I was never so put to
to walk strait in my life. Sumhow I couldn't make no
sort of calkelation for the floor—one minit it was up to
my knee, and the next step I couldn't hardly reach it—
and my legs kep gittin mixed up and tangled so I didn't
know one from tother. All the passengers seemed like
they was tite—sum of 'em looked monstrous serious,
and one or two was caskadin over the side of the boat
into the sea with all ther might. I felt a little sort o'
swimmy in the hed myself, and I begun to spicion I was
gettin sea-sick, so I tuck a seat by the side of the boat
and smoked my segar to settle my stummick.
Well, thar I sot and smoked til all the passengers went
down into the bed-room to sleep. It was a butiful night,
and the scene was jest the kind to set a man's brains a
thinkin. The sea is a roomy place and ther's nothin
thar to prevent one's givin free scope to his imagination—
it's a mighty thing, the sea is, and if a man don't feel
some sublime emotions in its presence, it's because his
hed works is on a monstrous small scale. Thar it was, the
great, the everlastin ocean, dressed out in its star-bespangled
night-gown, dancin to the soft music of the sighin
-- 038 --
[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]
winds, and the liquid cadence of its ever-splashin
waves; while down deep in its coral caverns the whales
and porpoises was spoutin ther love ditties to ther
sweetharts, and the maremaids was puttin ther hair in
curl to break the harts of the young sea-hoses. It was
monstrous still—the monotonous splashin of the wheels,
the gruntin and groanin of the ingine, the rushin of the
foam, and the rumblin and squeakin of the timbers of
the boat, all keepin time together, made a sort of noisy
silence that fell negatively on the ear. I leaned over
the side and looked at the fiery foam, as it rolled sparklin
away from the bow: but it faded from the face of
the sea while I looked at it, and a few yards behind
us ther remained no track of our passage. I felt alone on
the vast ocean, and a feelin of isolation cum over me,
which, fore I got rid of it, made the boat seem no bigger
than a teapot, and myself about the size of a young
seed-tick. I could preached a sermon on the sublimity
of creation, and the insignificance of man and his works,
but I had no congregation then, and it's too late now.
I don't know what made me think of home—but sumhow
I felt like I'd gin a heap to be thar. I thought of
the butiful bright eyes that was closed in sleep on my
pillar, and the dear little cub that was nestled in my
place. Bless ther dear souls—perhaps they was dreamin
of me that very minit—perhaps I was never to see 'em
in this world again. These thoughts made me feel monstrous
bad, and the more I reflected about it, the worse
I felt, til I blieve I would gin all I had in the world jest
to be sure I wouldn't die before I got back.
Bimeby, I thought, I'd try to go to sleep, so I went
down into the bed-room, and tried it. But it was no
go. I got into one of the little boxes, what they call
berths, but I couldn't stay born no way I could fix it.
In the first place I couldn't git stowed away no how,
and in the next place, whenever I shut my eyes, it
seemed like the boat was whirlin round and round like
a tread-wheel. I got up agin, and went up stairs, and
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[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]
smoked another segar, til I got pretty tired, and then I
went in the gentlemen's parlor, and stretched myself on
one of the seats. I fell asleep thar sumtime between
that and daylight, and never waked up til most breckfust
time the next mornin, when they sed we was in
Cape Fear, gwine right up to Wilmington.
Cape Fear is a very fine river, and ther's some fine
plantations and houses on the banks when you git near
to Wilmington. Pretty soon after breckfust we got in
sight of the city, and a few minits afterwards we was
long side the wharf, and the niggers was cartin our
baggage up the hill to the railrode. Wilmington presents
'bout as curious a aspect from the river, as any
other town in my knowins. The fust thing you see is
everlastin piles of turpentine barrels, piled up on the
wharf in evry direction, and on the vessels in the river.
That's the front rank. The next is a plattoon of wind-mills,
enuff to lick all the Don Quicksots in Spain. In
them they bile the spirits of turpentine out of the gum.
The rare rank—and that's scattered all over the hill—is
made up of houses, and old brick walls and chimneys
of houses what's been burnt down, with here and thar
a few more barrels of turpentine. They've had two or
three fires here lately, what's burnt up the best part of
the town; but I don't wonder at it, for I would as soon
think of puttin out a powder-house as a place what's so
perfectly soaked with turpentine. All I wonder at is,
that the river don't ketch a fire too.
We waited about a ower in Wilmington, which
afforded us a opportunity of lookin about a little. After
travellin over it, and lookin at sum very handsum bildins,
among which was the new Piscopal Church, a monstrous
pretty bildin, we went back to the cars. When
we got thar, I ax'd a nigger fellar whar I could git sum
segars, and he told me to go into a house what stood
rite over a branch, on stilts 'bout twenty feet high, whar
he sed Lucy Ann would sell 'em to me. Well I went
into the house, and ses I, “Is Lucy Ann here?”
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“Dat's my name,” sed a little outlandish person with
a coat and britches on.
“I want to see Lucy Ann,” ses I.
“Dat's me,” ses he. “What shall I have the plaisure
to sell you to day, ha?”
I looked up at the old feller's whity-brown sort of a
face, and ses I, “I don't spose it makes any difference,
but they told me Lucy Ann kep this store.”
“Well, sare, my name be Lucy Ann; I keep dis
store, and sell you sum vary fine orange, banana, sodawater,
and so forth.”
I bought sum segars and sum oranges and went out,
but I couldn't help thinkin ther was sum mistake about
it. If Lucy Ann was a woman, her pearance and dress
wasn't very flatterin to the North Carolina galls.
Bimeby the bell rung, and the passengers was all
aboard agin in the cars. The lokymotive man pulled
the wire what sot the steam agwine, and away we went,
licky-teklink, rite among the tar and turpentine what
was strung all along the road, evry here and thar, for
most a hundred miles. Like all the southern rodes this
railrode don't run through the most interestin part of the
country, so it wouldn't be fair to judge of the old North
State by what one sees on the railrode. The country
ain't much else but one everlastin turpentine plantation;
and all one can see for miles, is millions upon millions
of pine trees with the bark half off, and the white turpentine
runnin down ther sides, and lookin like so many
tall ghosts standin in the dark shade, with ther windinsheets
on. The rode runs through a very level country,
and is the straitest in the world—having a single stretch
of upwards of seventy miles without a single bend in it.
The cars ain't quite so stylish as them on the Georgia
Railrode, but the conducters is very obligin, attentive,
clever men, and git along with as few accidents as any
other conducters in the world, only they don't low no
smokin in the cars.
We got to Weldon a little after dark, and thar we
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tuck a very good supper. Here we bought tickets agin,
and ther was a big fat feller thar what seemed termined
to make us all go the Bay route, as he called it, whether
we would or no. He banged all the fellers to talk I
ever heard in all my born days. He got ahed of evrybody
else, passengers and all; and when I told him I'd
be very glad to commodate him, only I wanted to go
by Washington; he sed, he'd be dad fetched if he
didn't have the seat of government moved down on the
Bay, jest for the commodation of the public what travels
on his line. He's a monstrous good agent, and ought
to be well paid for his trouble.
I didn't git much good sleep the night before, in the
steambote, and by the time we got to Petersburg, I was
pretty well done over, and I never was so glad in my
life to go to bed. I remember sumthing 'bout gettin
up the next mornin fore daylight, and gettin in a omnibus,
and then gettin in sum more cars, and whizzin
along through Virginy like a streak of ligthnin. Towns
and bridges, and rivers, and mountings went whirlin
past us so rapid that I hadn't no time to ax any thing
about 'em. Like Cassio when he got sober, “I remember
a heap of things, but nothin very pertickelerly,”
from the time I went to bed in Petersburg, til I found
myself in the steambote on the Potomac gwine to
Washington.
These railrodes play the mischief with a man's observations.
One mought as well try to count the fethers
in a pigeon's tail when he's on the wing, as to look at
the country he's travellin through in the railrode cars.
He gits a kind of flying panorama of trees and houses,
and towns and rivers, and fenses and bridges, all mixed
up together—one runnin into tother, and another beginnin
before the last one's left off—so he can't make hed
nor tail to 'em. And when he does stop a minit he's
so pestered with hack-drivers and porters, that he hain't
hardly got time to buy his ticket or eat his breckfust, let
alone doin any thing else. I was anxious to have a
-- 042 --
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good look at the Old Dominion, for a good many reasons—
I wanted to see the state whar my father and
mother was born, and what had given birth to the great
Washington. But I had sich a bominable pore chance,
I don't blieve I'd know any more about Virginy when I
see it agin, than Captain Marryat did about America
when he went home to write his everlastin book of lies.
The Potomac is a noble river; and as ther was no
waves to set the bote a rollin, I had a fust rate chance
to look at the scenery on its banks. I never shall forgit
my feelins when the bell rung to let us know we was
near Washington's grave, at Mt. Vernon. I felt that it
was a grate privilege to be allowed to look at that
sacred spot, where the ashes of the father of his country
was reposin—to look at the mound of yeath that had
taken to itself the noble form in which had centred so
much virtue, so much patriotism, so much valor, so
much wisdom, so much of evry thing that ennobles
human nater. I remembered how on the bosom of the
very stream on which I was, a British fleet once floated,
and that when they passed the grave of our country's
sainted hero, they lowered ther proud banner, in token
of respect to the illustrious ded—and when I thought
of that, it made me half forgive 'em for destroyin the
city that bore his name. Fort Washington stands high
up on the bank, and looks down monstrous sassy; and
I reckon if the John Bull's was to try that game agin,
they'd find the Potomac sumwhat rougher navigashun
now than it was then.
In a few minits more we was in sight of Washington
city, with the great umbrella top of the Capitol loomin
up into the heavens, grand, gloomy, and peculiar. We
wasn't long gettin to the wharf, and after a terrible
encounter with 'bout five hundred cab-men and porters,
I made out to git my baggage into a hack and druv to
Gadsby's hotel, whar I got a good supper and soon
went to bed.
I dreamed all night of cog-wheels and steam-ingines
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—sumtimes my bed was a car, then it was a steambote,
and then it was a omnibus, but it was gwine all the
time, at the rate of twenty-five miles a ower. My
brains hain't got more'n 'bout half settled yet, so you
must excuse this monstrous pore letter. I hope to git
regelated in a day or two, and then I will tell you sumthing
'bout Washington City and its lyons. No more
from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
-- 044 --
LETTER VI.
Washington City, May 19, 1845.
[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—It was pretty late
before I got up this mornin, and then it was 'bout a
ower before I found my way down stairs after I did git
up. You hain't no idee what a everlastin heap of rooms
and passages and stair-ways ther is to these big hotels,
and to a person what aint use to 'em it's 'bout as difficult
to navigate through 'em as it is to find one's way
out of a Florida hammock.
As soon as I got my breckfast I sot out for the Capitol,
what stands on the hill, at the upper eend of the Avenue,
as they call it, which is a grate wide street runnin rite
through the middle of the city. When I looked up to
it—from the street—it seemed like it wasn't more'n
twenty yards off, but before I got to it I was pretty tired
walkin. The gates was open, and I walked into the
yard, and follered round the butiful paved walks til I
cum to the steps. The yard, round the bildin, is all
laid off in squares and dimonds, jest like Mary's flower-garden,
and is all sot out with trees. Rite in frunt of
the bildin, on the side towards the city, is a curious kind
of a monument, standin in a basin of water, with little
babys and angels, all cut out of solid marble, standin all
round on the corners of it, pintin up to a old eagle what
looks like he'd gone to roost on the top of it. It's a
very pretty thing, and the water what it stands in is full
of little red fishes, playing all about as lively as tadpoles
in a mill pond. I looked at the monument sum time,
and red sum of the names on it, but sum I couldn't make
out and the rest I've forgot.
After gwine up two or three more pair of stone stairs,
I cum to the door of the Capitol. I couldn't see nobody
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[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]
about, so I nocked two or three times, but nobody didn't
answer. I waited awhile and then nocked agin with my
stick, but nobody never sed a word. Thinks I, they
can't be home. But the door was open—so thinks I, I'll
go in and see the bildin any how. Well, in I went, and
the fust thing I met was two pair of stairs agin, both
gwine the same way. I tuck one of 'em, and after gwine
a little ways I cum to another green door. Thinks I, it
wont do to be too bold, or I mought git into a fuss with-the
kitchen cabinet, and I knowd a whig wouldn't find
no frends thar. So I nocked agin, louder and louder,
but nobody answered. Well, thinks I, the government
can't be to home sure enuff, and I was jest thinkin what
a bominable shame it was for them to neglect their bisness
so, when here cum a feller, what had whiskers all
over his face, with three or four galls, laughin and
gigglin at a terrible rate, and in they went, without ever
nockin a lick. Well, thinks I, I've got as good a right
here as any body else what dont belong to the administration,
so in I follered into the rotunda.
I tell you what, Mr. Thompson, this rotunda is a
monstrous tall bildin jest of itself. Why you could put
the Pineville court-house inside of it, and it wouldn't
be in the way a bit. A full grown man dont look no
bigger in it than a five year old boy, and I cum very
near nockin a pinter dog in the hed for a rat, he looked
so little. The sides is all hung round with picters, and
over the doors ther is some sculptures representin William
Penn swindlin the Ingins out of ther land, and Columbus
cumin ashore in his boat, and old Danel Boon killin off
the aborignees with a butcher knife, and other subjects
more or less flatterin to the national character. The
figers is all cramped up like they'd been whittled down
to fit ther places, and don't look well to my likin at all.
The places would be a great deal better filled with single
figers representin our grate generals and statesmen. The
picters is very good, and it's worth a trip from Georgia
to Washington to see them great national paintins, the
-- 046 --
[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]
Signers of the Declaration of Independence, the Surrender
of Cornwallis, Washington givin up his Commission,
the Baptism of Pochontas, and the Pilgrim
Fathers on board ther ship. I could looked at 'em a
whole day, but I had so much to see and so little time
to spare, that I only gin 'em a passin examination.
Bimeby I went up to a chap what was sitin by the
door with a book in his hand, and ax'd him whar the
government was.
“Who?” ses he.
“The government,” ses I,—“Polk and Dallas.”
“Oh, ses he, the President is at home at his house,
I believe, but I don't know whar Mr. Dallas is.”
“Don't the President live here?” ses I.
“No sir,” ses he. “He lives in the White House
at the other eend of the Avenue. This is the Capitol
whar Congress sets, but it aint in session now.”
“Beg your pardon sir,” ses I, “I thought the government
all lived at the Capitol.”
“Your a stranger here then, it seems,” ses he. “My
business is to show strangers over the Capitol. Do you
wish to see it?”
“That's jest what I cum here for,” ses I, “and I'd
like very much to see whar Congress makes the laws.”
“Very well,” ses he, “jest foller me.”
Well, he led the way and I follered up stairs and
down, through passages and round pillars and corners,
under arches and over roofs, through the Senate Chamber,
the Hall of the Representatives, and ever so many offices
and committee rooms, til he brung me out on the top of
the dome. I never was so high up in the world before.
Thar was the “city of magnificent distances,” litteraly
stretched out at my feet, and I looked down upon the dignitaries
of the land. I was indeed elevated above Presidents
and Cabinets, and Ministers of State. Houses looked
like martin boxes, men looked no bigger than seed-ticks,
and carriages and horses went crawlin along over the
ground like a couple of ants draggin a dead blue bottle.
-- 047 --
[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]
The eye ranges over half the nation; Virginy and
Maryland comes into the ten miles square, and the Potomac
looks like a little branch runnin through a meadow
of trees; while the Tiber don't look no more like “the
angry Tiber chafing with its shores” in which Julias
Cæsar and Mr. Cassius went a swimmin with ther clothes
on, than our duck pond does like the Atlantic Ocean.
Well, after takin a good look from the dome, I follered
the man what keeps the Capitol, down agin into the Rotunda,
and ax'd him what was to pay for his trouble.
“Nothing at all,” ses he, and then he told me whar
the statues was on the eastern Portico, and pinted out
the place whar they kept Mr. Greenough's Washington.
I went out on the portico, and what do you think,
Mr. Thompson! the very first thing I seed was a woman
without so much as a pettycoat on! Not a real live
woman, but one cut out of marble, jest as nateral as life
itself. Thar she was, sort of half standin and half
squattin by the side of a man dressed off in armour and
holdin a round ball in his hand. At first I never was
so tuck aback in my life, and I looked all round to see
if anybody was lookin at me. I couldn't help but look
at it, though it did make me feel sort o' shamed all alone
by myself. Every now and then somebody would cum
by, and then I would walk off and look tother way.
But sumhow I couldn't go away. The more I looked
at it the handsumer it got, til bimeby I seemed to forgit
every other thought in the contemplation of its beauty.
Ther was sumthing so chaste, and cold, and pure about
that beautiful figure, that I begun to be in love with it,
and I couldn't help but think if I was Columbus and
wasn't marble myself, I'd be tempted to give her a hug
now and then, if she was a squaw. I went down off
the portico and took a front view of it—and then I
looked at it sideways—and then I went up the steps and
looked at it thar agin, and every way it presented a image
of beauty to dream of years to come. Bimeby the galls
-- 048 --
[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]
what I saw when I was nockin at the door, cum up with
that chap with the whiskers and I backed out.
Ther is two other statues standin on the east frunt of
the Capitol, one representin the godess of Peace, and
the other General Mars, the god of War. They are
both very handsome. Mars carrys his hed like a genewine
South Carolina militia captain, and Peace looks
like she wouldn't hurt anybody for the world; but ther
is something tame about 'em—they look somehow like
they was cast in a mould.
After lookin at them a while, I went out to the bildin
what stands in the yard, and tuck a look at Mr. Greenough's
Washington, and to tell you the truth, I never
was so disappinted in my life. This statue has some
terrible bad faults, and on first view, before one has time
to study and understand the design of the artist, creates
any thing but a favorable impression. In the fust place
the position is out of keepin with the character of Washington;
in the second place, the costume is worse than
the position, and in the next place, the mouth is not good,
and destroys the character and expression of the face.
Ther ain't nothing Washington about it, to my notion.
The idea of puttin a Roman togy on Gen. Washington, is
ridiculous; as if he wasn't jest as much entitled to be a
type of his age and generation, as Julius Cæsar or any
other Roman hero is of the age when ther was no tailors
to make coats. It made me feel bad when I looked
up and saw Washington's bare busum. The veneration
which Americans feel for the character of Washington
is shocked at the exposure of that noble breast, whose
every throb was for his country. It seems like a desecration
to represent him in any other way than as he
was, when he was alive; and though ther is something
imposin and grand in the artist's design, the effect is
destroyed by the want of fidelity to the character of the
man. I tried my best to overcum my prejudices agin
the Washington, because it was a American work, but
it was no go, and I went back and tuck another look at
-- 049 --
[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]
Columbus and his Ingin gall, before I went down to my
hotel.
After dinner, I went to see the President, up to the
White House as they call it, what stands at the other
eend of the Avenue. All along the way the hack-men
kep settin at me to ride in one of ther carriages. It
looked like only a little ways, and I wanted to see the
city as I went along; but if I stopped for a minit to explain
to one of 'em, I was sure to have a dozen of 'em
round me at once, all pullin and haulin at me, and cusin
one another for every thing you could think of. Washington's
so bominably scattered all over creation, that
most every body rides, and these fellers think it's a outrage
on ther rights to see a gentleman walkin in the
street. I cum mighty nigh gettin into three or four fights
with 'em fore I got half way to the President's house.
It was a monstrous long walk, and I was terrible tired
fore I got thar. What makes it so deceivin is, the Capitol
at one eend, and the White House at the other eend of
the wide street, is so large that one loses all idee of
distances and proportions.
When I got to the house, I nocked at the door, and
a gentleman opened it and told me to cum in.
“Good evenin, Mr. President,” ses I, “I hope yourself
and famly is all well,” offerin him my hand at the
same time.
“Good evenin, sir,” ses the gentleman, givin me a
real Georgia shake by the hand. “It's not Mr. Polk
your spakin too, ses he, but no offence, sir, walk in.”
“Why,” ses I, “don't the President live here,”
beginin to think I never would find him.
“To be sure, sir; this is the Prisident's house, but it's
Cabinet day, and his excellency can't be seen by strangers.”
“Well, I'm very sorry for that,” ses I.
“And so am I,” ses the gentleman. “But,” ses he,
“since you can't see his excellency, you can have the
honor of taking a pinch of snuff wid his lagal ripresintative,”
and with that, he poked his snuff-box at me
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and I tuck a pinch of his Irish blackguard, that liked to
put my neck out of jint a sneezin.
As soon as I got over it a little, ses he: “walk this
way, sir, and I'll show you through the public rooms if
you would like to see them.”
After walkin about awhile we cum into the great
East room, which is a real stylish place you may depend,
with gold chairs, and marble tables, and the
richest kind of carpets, with lookin-glasses clear down
to the floor. I knew that was the room whar pore old
General Harrison lay before he was buried, so I ax'd
the man if he knowd General Harrison.
“To be sure I did,” ses he; “I cum here in General
Jackson's administrashun, and I've bin here iver since.
Ah, sir!” ses he, “General Harrison was a great and
good man. He was a true dimocrat, he was. We
waked him here two days in this room, sir, and I shall
niver, til the day of my deth, forgit that melancholy
sight. The gineral was none of yer blarneyin politicians,
but a true man, sir. When he cum to the
White House I wint to him, and ses I—`Gineral, I'm
a , and if I'd had a vote I'd voted agin you,
and now I'm to give up my place.' `Don't think
of it, Martin,' ses he; `I'm tould yer atten ive and
faithful in the discharge of yer duties. I'll need such
a man about me, and it's not myself that'll discharge
any man for his political opinions.' I kep my place,
sir, but the pore gintleman, rest his sowl, wasn't
spared to keep his. He was kind to ivrybody 'bout
him, from the highest to the lowest; I used to walk out
wid him whin he was sick; and if you'd seen us togi her
you couldn't a tould which was the best dimocrat, the
Prisident of the United States, or his Irish futman.”
“Give me yer hand, Martin,” ses I; “I'm a Georgia
whig, and I'm glad to hear you speak well of the man
I loved so much.”
“Dimocrat or whig,” ses he, “the truth's all the
same. But are ye all the way from Georgia?”
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[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]
“I am,” ses I; “my name is Jones, Joseph Jones,
of Pineville.”
“Majer Joseph Jones?” ses he.
“That's my name when I'm at home,” ses I.
“Then giv me yer hand agin, Majer,” ses he, “and
tell me, how did you lave Mary and the baby—how is
little Henry Clay Jones, and the good wife? Faith,
I've red yer book, Majer,” ses he, “and I'm rite glad
to make yer acquaintance. Will you take another pinch
of snuff?” ses he.
“No, I thank you, sir,” ses I; “I ain't much used
to snuffin.”
“Well, no matter for that Majer,” ses he; “if it
don't agree wid you—I know you used to chew tobacco.
But you see I'm a bit of a litterary man myself, and I'm
writin a jurnal of my life in the White-house, for these
last fifteen years. Now what do you think of the idee,
Majer?”
Then he went into a description of his book, and
you may depend it's gwine to be one of the most
interestin books ever published in this country. You
know Martin's bin jest as familiar as a mushstick with
the Kitchen Cabinets under Gen. Jackson, Mr. Van
Buren, Capt. Tyler, and Mr. Polk—he knows evry
politician in the country, and all ther tricks and intrigues;
and it'll be monstrous strange if a man of as
much natural smartness as Martin, with sich opportunities,
couldn't pick up enuff materials in fifteen years
to make a interestin book. I told him I thought he had
a fortune by the tail, if he'd only hang on to it, and not
let anybody git it away from him. He gin me a Irish
wink, as much as to say, he wasn't quite so green, and
after a little more chat 'bout literature, politics, and
matters and things in general, I bid him good by and
went back to my hotel. And here I must drap my pen
for the present. So no more from
Your friend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
-- 052 --
LETTER VII.
Baltimore, May 21, 1845.
[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I left off my last
letter whar I went to my hotel. Well, after tea I red
the papers a little while, and then went out and tuck a
walk by moonlight to see the city. I straggled round
all over the place without payin much attention whar I
went, lookin at the public bildins and fine-dressed ladies
and gentlemen what was in the streets, til the fust thing
I know'd I found myself at the gate in frunt of the
Capitol. Thar it was agin with its stupendous white
walls, and its monstrous high, dark dome, standin in
the bright moonlight, loomin up agin the heavens, vast,
majestic, and sublime, like the stone mountain in DeKalb
county. It didn't seem possible sich a everlastin pile
could be bilt with hands; and I could almost imagine
it was sum inchanted castle, and that the goblins and
fairys was caperin and dancin in the rotunda at that
very minit.
I tuck a seat on the stone steps and looked up at it
as it stood out agin the blue, star-bespangled sky.
Thinks I, this is the hed of the nation, the place whar
Uncle Sam does his thinkin; and with that I got to
ruminatin 'bout the falibility of national wisdom as well
as individual judgment. Public men, thinks I, is like
idees: sumtimes they's good, and sumtimes they's
monstrous bad—and when they git into the Capitol at
Washington, they're jest like thoughts in a man's hed,
and make the nation do a monstrous silly thing or a very
sensible thing, jest as they happen to be wise or foolish.
If ther's any truth in the science of frenology, it must
effect the Capitol in the same way it does a man's skull,
and I don't doubt that a rite scientific Yankee professor
-- 053 --
[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]
could discover the bumps by feelin the walls of the
bildin, and could tell what organ was developed the
most. Lately the organ of secretiveness has been pretty
strongly developed, and sense we've pocketed Texas,
ther ain't no tellin whar we'll stop. Combattiveness,
too—which is very prominent, if you notice the projections
on the north and south side of the dome—is very
active; and I wouldn't be much surprised if we was to
lick sum nation like blazes before long. If it wasn't
for the excess of veneration which is indicated by the
fullness of the dome on the top, we'd been monstrous
apt to pitch'd into John Bull before now. Too much
veneration is a very bad fault, but maybe it's all the
better whar ther's so much combattiveness. I ain't
much of a frenologist myself, or I'd go on and give you
a full description of Uncle Sam's knowledge-box. I
think ther ought to be a scientific committee appinted
evry session to make out a complete chart of its bumps,
so the people might know what to depend on.
I couldn't leave the Capitol 'thout gwine round and
takin one more look at the Ingin gall on the East
Portico. Like all butiful wimen, she looked handsumer
in the soft, pale moonlight, than she did in the daytime.
The outlines and shadows was not so hard; ther was
sum hing dreamy and indistinct about her form, and
the 'magination was allowed a freer scope in givin the
finishin touches to the picter. You know all that is
necessary to create in the mind a image of buty, is the
mere idee of a woman, with a object for the 'magination
to work on. Ther are certain times when a man's
'magination will make a angel out of a bed-post.
Well, as I gazed at her, she seemed to becum livin
flesh and blood; and, as she looked at Columbus,
stoopin over, with her hands raised in a attitude of
wunder, I almost fancied I could hear her say—“Christofer!
why don't you speak to me?” I tuck a long,
long look at her, and then went to the hotel to dream
of Mary.
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In the mornin, as soon as I got my breckfust, I went
to see the Nashunal Institute, whar they told me the
government kep all its curiosities. Since as they hadn't
the politeness to tell me to cum in when I nocked at the
dore of the Capitol yesterday, I tuck it for granted the
government was too democratic republican to stand on
ceremony; so I didn't nock this time, but jest walked
rite in. Well, when I got up stairs, the fust room I got
into was the patent-office, whar, the Lord knows, I seed
more Yankee contraptions of one kind and another,
than ever I thought ther was in the known world.
Ther was more'n five hundred thousand models, all
piled up in great big glass cages, with ther names writ
on 'em, rangin from steam saw-mills down to mousetraps.
Ther was ingines, wind-mills, and water-wheels;
steam-botes, ships, bridges, cotton-gins, and thrashinmachines;
printin-presses, spinnin-ginnies, weavinlooms,
and shingle-splinters—all on a small scale. But
it would take a whole letter to give you the names of
one half of 'em. I didn't understand much about 'em,
and so I went into another room whar they had a everlastin
lot of shells, and stones, and ores, and fish, and
birds, and varmints, and images, and so forth, what
was brung home from the North pole, by the explorin
expedition. I spose, to sum people, what can find
“sermons in stones and good in any thing,” these
things, what cost the government so much to git 'em,
would be very interestin; but I hain't got quite fur
enuff in the ologies for that yet—so I went into another
apartment, whar they keep the relics of the revolution
and other curiosities. This is the most interestin part
of the show, and contains a heap of things that must
always be objects of the deepest interest to Americans.
'Mong the rest is Gen. Washington's military cote; the
same cote that has been gazed on by so many millions
of adorin eyes, when it enveloped the form of the great
father of his country. It made me have very strange
feelins to look upon General Washington's clothes—it
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caused in my mind the most familiar impression of that
great man I had ever felt, and which no paintin or statue
could ever give. I was lookin upon what had been a
portion of the real, livin Washington; and I almost felt
as if I was in his presence. Close by hung the sword,
and below was the camp-chest what he used in the war
of the Revolution. What a sight! to behold in one
glance the garment that sheltered his sacred person, the
provision-chest, cracked and shattered in the great conflict,
and the sword with which he won for us the blessings
of liberty, which we enjoy. How many thousands,
in centuries to come, will look upon the remains
of these sacred relics, and bless the memory of the
great and good man.
Not far from Washington's cote, in a case by itself,
is the cote what General Jackson wore at the battle of
New Orleans. I stopped and looked at it with feelins
of sincere veneration. Few would suppose the victory
of New Orleans was won in sich a coarse cote—but it is
like the lion-harted hero who wore it—corse, strong,
and honest, without tinsel or false gloss. It looks like
the General, and will be preserved as a priceless relic
of the brave old patriot, whose days are now drawin to
a close. I never voted for General Jackson, cause I
thought his politics was wrong; but I always believed
him to be a honest man, and a true patriot, and I don't
blieve ther's a lokyfoky in the land that's prouder of his
fame, or will hear of his deth with more unfeigned
sadness.
Ther's a heap of other curiosities in this part of the
bildin, that is well worth the attention of the visiter.
Among the rest is Gen. Washington's Commisshun, and
the original Declaration of Independence, besides treaties
in all sorts of outlandish languages, and guns and
pistols and swords, all covered with gold and diamonds,
that have been made presents to our government from
foreign powers. Ther's a heap of Ingin picters, and
among 'em some portraits of the Seminole chiefs, what
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fit us so hard a few years ago. I seed old Alligator
settin up thar, as dignified as a turky-cock in a barn-yard,
and I couldn't help but think of the time I seed
the old feller fall off a log into the St. Johns with all
his fancy rigins on, and a jug of rum in his hand.
Ther's sum very good likenesses among the Ingin portraits,
but they've got sum of the triflinest fellers in the
whole nation settin up thar as grand as Mogulls.
After lookin at the other picters, and busts, and
statues, (and ther's sum butiful things among 'em,) I
went down into the lower story, and thar I saw the grate
Sarcofagus what Com. Elliott brung over from Egypt
to bury Gen. Jackson in. I don't blame the old General
for backin out from any sich arrangement. In the fust
place, I don't think it in very good taste for to be in too
big a hurry to provide a coffin for a man before he's
ded; and in the next place, I've got no better opinion
of old second-hand coffins than I have of second-hand
boots. I'd a grate deal rather walk in the footsteps of
a dozen livin, illustrious predecessors, than to fill the
coffin of one ded King Fareo. No, indeed; the old
hero is too much of a proud-spirited republican for that—
he's not gwine to lay his bones in a place whar sum
bominable old heathen King has rotted away before, and
I glory in him for it. Such men as Jackson finds a
sarcofagus in every true patriot's heart, that will preserve
his memory, from generation to generation, to the
eend of time.
After gettin out of Uncle Sam's curiosity shop, I
went out into his flower garden, what is kep in a long,
low house, with a glass roof. It's got about five hundred
kinds of cactuses in it, and that's about all. True,
ther's a good many little bushes and weeds, with monstrous
hard names, and sum few with flowers on 'em,
but Mary's flower-garden at home would beat it all
holler for buty and variety.
I tuck a walk round by the Post-Office and up to the
War Department, and the President's house. The new
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Post-Office, the National Institute, and the War Department
is most magnificent bildins, of grayish, coarse
stone; and if they don't paint 'em like they have the
Capitol and the President's house, they'll look ancient
enuff to suit the fancy of Mr. Dickens, or anybody else,
who never saw a new country before, and who think
none of the rest of the world ain't fit to live in, cause it
ain't as old and musty as London.
By the time I got down to Gadsby's I was pretty
tired; and after eatin a fust rate dinner, I got reddy to
go to Baltimore. I paid my bill, which was very little,
I thought, for sich comfortable livin, and got my trunks
all packed and reddy sum time before the cars started.
Bimeby long cum the omnibus and tuck my trunks;
but the depo was so close that I jest fit my way through
the hack drivers to the cars, without any serious accidents.
It was a very plesant afternoon, and ther was
ever so many ladys and gentlemen in the cars, gwine
to Baltimore, and among 'em sum of the most outlandish
specimens of human nater I ever met with. I
thought I'd seed whiskers and bustles before, but I find
the further north I git, the bigger they grow. After a
while the bell rung and away we went, the houses,
Capitol and all waltzin round behind us, til we was out
of sight of the city; and the posts of Professor Morse's
Telegraph, as they call it, gettin closer and closer together
the faster we went.
But now the scene is very different from what it is on
the Carolina, or even the Virginy rodes. The woods is
in little patches, and the fields is smaller, and the houses
and towns is thicker. The country is more uneven,
and evry mile changes the scenery, and gives one sumthing
new to look at. The track, too, is even as a die,
and the cars go like lightnin and as easy as a rockinchair.
One minit we was whirlin along between butiful
farms, in the next we darted into a cut whar the banks
shut out the view, and perhaps the next we was crossin
over sum butiful valley on a bridge, with mills, and
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houses, and people far below us. We passed lots of
hoses and cattle, and sum of 'em would twist up ther
tails and giv us a race, but we went so fast that nothin
couldn't keep up with us but the wire lightnin conductors
of the telegraph, which kep us cumpany all the
way. It's only 'bout forty miles from Washington to
Baltimore, and I hadn't begun to git tired before the
monuments and steeples and towers of the city begun
to show themselves in the distance, gittin nearer and
nearer, til we was rite in among 'em.
When we got to the depo in the edge of the city,
they unhitched the lokymotive and hitched on sum
hoses that pulled us away down into the center of the
city to the railrode office. I could find enuff for twenty
pair of eyes to do, lookin at this butiful city. I hadn't
no idee it was half so large or half so handsum. But
I had no time to give it more'n a glimpse before we
was at the shoppin place, and in the middle of another
regiment of whips, all pullin and haulin, and axin me
to go this way and tother, til I didn't hardly know
which eend I stood on.
Bimeby one very civil little man with a piece of
painted lether on his hat ses to me, ses he—“Sir, giv
me yer checks for yer baggage, and I'll take ye to the
Exchange Hotel, a very good house, sir.” It was Hobson's
choice with me, for I didn't know one house from
tother, so I jest handed him over the tins, and he went
to look out for my baggage. While I was waitin for
him a reinforcement of hackmen got round me, and
insisted on takin me to the Exchange. Well, I was
like the gall what married the chap to git rid of him,
and I got into the fust hack and druv off. I wasn't
more'n seated, fore we was at the dore of a grate big
stone house, with a dome on the top of it like the
Capitol at Washington, what the feller sed was the
Exchange Hotel. After I got out I ax'd the driver
how much was to pay. “A quarter,” ses he. I pulled
out my purse and paid him, but if I'd know'd it was
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no further, I'd seed him to Bullyhack fore I'd got into
his hack, that's certain.
Soon as I got in the hotel the man in the office laid a
big book out before me and gin me a pen. I know'd
what he ment, so I put my name down—Jos. Jones,
Pineville, Geo., as plain as a pike-staff. I hadn't
more'n finished writin my name before here cum the
man with my trunks, and in a minit after I found myself
up stairs in No. 27, whar I am now writin to you,
and whar I expect to remain for a day or two. I mean
to go to bed early to-night, and take a fresh start in the
mornin to look at Baltimore. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER VIII.
No. 27, Exchange Hotel,
Baltimore, May 21, 1845.
[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I waked up this
mornin bright and early, but I felt so monstrous tired
that I didn't git rite out of bed. Well, while I was
layin thar, lookin round the room at the fine furniture—
at the splendid mahogany burow and wardrobe, the
marble-top'd washstand and the cast-iron fire-place, and
a heap of other curious fixins—I seed a green cord with
a tossel on the eend of it, hangin down by the hed of
my bed. Thinks I, that must be to pull the winder
blinds, to let the light in, and as it was rayther dark, I
tuck hold of it and pulled it easy two or three times;
but the thing seemed to be hitched sumwhar, and the
blinds didn't move a bit. I wasn't more'n done pullin
it, before sumbody nocked at my dore, and as I didn't
know who it mought be, I covered up good, and ses
I, “Cum in.”
A nigger feller opened the dore and stood thar for
'bout a minit, lookin at me like he wanted sumthing,
'thout sayin a word.
“Well, buck,” ses I, “what's the matter,” beginnin
to think he had a monstrous sight of imperence.
“I cum to see what the gemmen wants,” ses he.
“Well,” ses I, “I don't want nothin.”
He looked sort o' sideways at me and put out.
After studyin a bit to try to make out what upon
yeath could brung him to my room, I put my hand out
and tried the curtains agin; and the fust thing I know'd
here cum the same chap back agin.
This time I looked at him pretty sharp, and ses I—
“What upon yeath do you mean?”
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With that he begun bowin and scrapin and scratchin
his hed, and ses he—“Didn't you ring, sir?”
“Ring what?” ses I.
“Your bell,” ses he.
I was beginnin to git pretty considerable riled, and
ses I—“I don't carry no bell, but I can jest tell you
what it is, my buck: if you go to cumin any of yer
free nigger nonsense over me, I'll ring yer cussed neck
off quicker'n lightnin.”
And with that I started to git out of the bed, but ther
was no nigger thar when my feet tetched the floor.
It was too dark to dress, so I tuck another pull or two
at the blinds; and while I was pullin and jerkin at 'em,
here cums another big nigger, to know what I wanted.
By this time I begun to spicion thar was sumthing rong;
and shore enuff, cum to find out, I'd been pullin a bell-rope
all the time, what kep up a terrible ringin down
stairs, though I couldn't hear the least sign of it myself.
I'd seed them things hangin round in the rooms at the
Charleston Hotel, and at Gadsby's, but I never know'd
what they was before. Well, thinks I, live and larn—
I'll know a bell-rope when I see it agin.
After findin my way down stairs I went in the barber's
room and got shaved, and I do blieve if it hadn't been
so early in the mornin, I should went spang to sleep
while Billy was takin my beard off. That feller's a real
magnetiser; and he goes through the bisness so easy,
that you can't hardly tell whether he's usin the brush or
the razor; and by the time he's done, your face is so
smooth that it takes a pretty good memory to remember
whether you ever had any beard or not. After brushin
and combin a little, I went out into the readin-room and
looked over the papers til breckfust.
I was settin on the sofa readin in the National Intelligencer,
when the fust thing I know'd I thought the
whole roof of the bildin was cumin down on top of my
hed—whow! row! whow-wow! went sumthing like
the very heavens and yeath was cumin together. I
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couldn't hear myself think, and I was makin for one
of the winders as fast as I could, when the everlastin
rumpus stopped. I ax'd sumbody what in the name
of thunder it was. “O, you needn't be larmed,” ses
he, “it's nothin but the breckfust gong.” I was jest
about as wise then as I was before, but I know'd it had
sumthing to do with breckfust, and my appetite soon
cum back to me agin.
You know I always used to drink coffee, and I'm
monstrous fond of it yet; but bein as I didn't feel very
well this mornin, when the waiter ax'd me which I'd
have, I sed “tea.”
“Black or green?” ses he.
I looked at the feller, and ses I—“What?”
“Will you have black or green tea?” ses he.
I didn't know whether he was projectin with me or
not, so ses I, “I want a cup of tea, jest plain tea, without
no fancy colerin about it.”
That settled the bisness, and in a minit he brung me
a grate big cup of tea that looked almost as strong as
coffee; but it was monstrous good, and I made out a
fust rate breckfust.
After breckfust I tuck a walk out to see the city, and
shore enuff it is a city! Gracious knows, I thought
Charleston, and Richmond, and Washington was big
enuff, but Baltimore lays 'em all in the shade. It ain't
only a long ways ahed of 'em all in pint of size, but
it's a monstrous sight the handsumest. The streets is
wide enuff, and then ther ain't no two of them alike,
and evry corner you turn gives you a new view, as
different from the other as if you was in another city.
Monuments and steeples, and minarets and towers, and
domes and columns, and piazzas and porticos, and pillars
of all orders, sizes, and heights, is constantly
changin before you; and the ground rises and falls in
butiful hills and hollers, as if it tried to do its share
towards givin variety and buty to the view. Baltimore
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street is the principal street, and you may depend it's
got a heap of fine stores on it.
After takin a good stretch on Baltimore street, lookin
at the picter-shops and show-winders, I struck out into
Calvert street, whar the monument stands what was
raised to the brave fellers what licked the British at the
Battle of North Pint, in the last war. It's a good deal
bigger than the Naval Monument at Washington, and,
to my notion, it's a grate deal handsomer. Its proportions
is good, and the design is very butiful.
After takin a good look at the monument, I walked
along down by sum fine large brick houses with marble
porticos to 'em, and winder-glasses so clean you mought
see yer face in 'em, lookin back now and then at the
woman on top of the monument, when the fust thing I
know'd I got a most alfired skeer, that made me jump
clear off the side-walk into the street, before I know'd
what I was about; “Get out!” ses I, at a cussed grate
big fierce-lookin dog upon one of the porticos, that
looked like he was gwine to take rite hold of me.
“Seize him, Tiger!” ses a chap what was gwine by,
laughin, and I raised my stick quicker'n lightnin, but
the dog never moved a peg. Cum to find out, it was
nothin but a statue of a dog made out of stone or iron,
put up thar to watch the dore and keep off house-brakers,
I spose. I got over my skare and went along,
but I couldn't help thinkin it was monstrous bad taste
to have sich a fierce-lookin thing standin rite before a
body's dore thataway. If he was lyin down asleep he'd
look jest as natural, and wouldn't be apt to frighten any
body out of ther senses fore they know'd what it was.
Bimeby I cum to a open place with a butiful little
temple standin back in the yard, under the trees, and
over the gate was a sign what sed “City Springs.”
Well, as I felt pretty dry by this time, I thought I'd go
in and git sum water. When I got to the house what
was standin over the spring on butiful round pillars, and
was gwine down the white stone steps, I seed a whole
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heap of galls down thar playin and dabblin in the water,
and sprinklin and splashin one another, and laughin and
carryin on like the mischief. I'd heard a grate deal
about Baltimore buty, and I thought I'd jest take a peep
at 'em while they didn't see me, and when they wasn't
suspectin anybody was lookin at 'em. Well, thar they
was, five or six of 'em, all 'bout sixteen and seventeen,
with ther butiful faces flushed up, and ther dark eyes
sparklin with excitement, while ther glossy ringlets, in
which the crystal water glittered like dimonds, fell in
confusion over ther white necks and shoulders. They
was butiful young creters; and as I leaned over the
wall, lookin down on 'em as they was wrestlin and
jumpin and skippin about as graceful as young fawns, I
almost thought they was real water-nymphs, and I was
'fraid to breathe hard for fear they mought hear me and
dart into the fountains. Bimeby one of 'em that was
scufflin for life to keep two more of 'em from given her
a duckin, happened to look up. The next minit thar
was a general squeelin and grabbin up of sun-bonnets,
and away they went up tother flight of steps. I didn't
want 'em to think I'd been watchin 'em, so I went rite
down to the spring, like I had jest cum for a drink of
water. Ther was three fountains all in a row, and on
each side of the fountains was two iron ladles hangin
chained to the wall. I tuck up the one on the right,
and was holdin it under the spout on that side, when I
heard the galls gigglin and laughin up on the steps,
whar they was rangin ther dresses. I couldn't help but
look round, when I saw one of the prettyest pair of
sparklin eyes lookin over the wall at me, that I have
seed sense I left home. “The middle fountain's the
best, sir,” ses one of the sweetest voices in the world. I
didn't wait to think, but jest cause she sed so, I jerked
the ladel what was already runnin over, towards the
middle spout, when kerslosh went the water all over my
feet, and the ladel went rattle-teklink agin the wall whar
it was chained. Sich another squall as they did give I
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never heard before, and away they all scampered,
laughin fit to die at me. The fact was the chain wasn't
long enuff to reach to the middle fountain no how, even
if the water was any better, which I ought to know'd
was all gammon. I felt a little sort o' flat, but thinks I,
galls, if you only know'd the buties I seed when I was
lookin down over your heds, when you was rompin,
you'd think we was pretty near even, after all.
From the City Springs I went to the Washington
monument, what stands at the hed of Charles street.
This is another butiful structure which, while it commemorates
the fame of the greatest man what ever lived
on the face of the yeath, reflects honor on the patriotism
and liberality of Baltimoreans. At the dore ther
was a old gentleman, who ax'd me if I wanted to go
up on the monument. I told him I'd like to very well,
if ther was no danger. He sed ther wasn't the least in
the world; so, after payin him a seven-pence and writin
my name in a big book, he gin me a lamp and I started
up the steps, what jest kep runnin round and round like
a screw-auger. Up, up I went, and kep a gwine til I
thought my legs would drap off me. Evry now and
then I stopped and tuck a blow, and then pushed on
agin, til bimeby I got to the top, whar ther is a dore to
go out on the outside.
From that place I could see all over the city, and for
miles round the country; and, to tell you the truth, I
couldn't hardly blieve my own eyes, when I saw so
many houses. The ground seemed to be covered with
bricks for miles; and every here and thar some tall
steeple or lofty dome shot up from the dark mass of
houses below. Streets was runnin in every direction,
and carriages and hoses and peeple was all movin about
in 'em, like so many ants on a ant-hill. Away off to
the south-east I could see the dome of the Exchange
Hotel, and a little further was the blue arms of the Patapsco,
covered with white sails, gwine in and out of
the harbor; while the naked masts of the vessels at the
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wharves and in the basin, looked like a corn-field jest
after fodder-pullin time. I could see “the star-spangled
banner” on the walls of old Fort Mackhenry, still wavin
“over the land of the free and the home of the brave,”
as proudly as it did on that glorious night, when
“The rocket's red glare, and bums bustin in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still thar.”
and I couldn't keep from singin, “O long may it
wave!” &c.
By the time I got down from the Monument it was
two o'clock, and I begun to have a pretty good appetite
agin. I made out to git back to the Exchange, by enquirin
the way 'bout twenty times; and pretty soon after
I got thar that everlastin gong rung agin, and we all
went in to dinner. I never seed sich a handsum table
in all my life before. It was long enuff for a fourth of
July barbacue, and all dressed out like a weddin-supper.
Evry thing looked in order, like a army formed in line
of battle. The plattoons of ivory-handled knives, and
silver forks, and cut-glass goblets, and wine-glasses, was
all ranged in two long columns on each side, with a
napkin standin at each place like a file-closer, crimped
up as handsum and lookin as white and fresh as a waterlilly.
In the middle was the baggage-train, which was
made up of a long row of bright covers, with elegant
silver casters and tureens, large glass vases full of sallary,
and lots of other dishes. I felt jest like I was
gwine into battle; and whether Mr. Dorsey, like Lord
Nelson, expected every man to do his duty or not, I
was termined to do mine. Well, the table was soon
surrounded, and then the attack commenced. It was a
terrible carnage. The knives and forks rattled like
small arms, the corks popped like artillery, and the
shampane flew like blood at evry discharge. General
Jennings manoovered his troops fust rate—carryin off
the killed and wounded as fast as possible, and supplyin
ther places with reinforcements of fresh dishes. He
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had a regular Wellington army, made up of English,
French, American, German, Italian, and all kinds of
dishes; but, like Napoleon at Waterloo, he was doomed
to come out second best, and in a short time his splendid
army was cut to pieces, routed, dispersed, and demolished,
horse, foot, and dragoons, or rather roast, boiled,
and stewed.
You know I've fit the Ingins in Florida, and can
stand my hand as well as the next man in a bush-fight,
but I never was in jest sich a engagement before, and I
made rather a bad job of it in the beginnin. I hadn't
more'n swallered my soup when here cums a nigger
pokein a piece of paper at me, which he sed was a bill.
Thinks I, they're in a monstrous hurry 'bout the money,
so I told him I hadn't time to look it over then. The
feller looked and grinned like he didn't mean no offence,
and ax'd me what I'd be helped to. Well, I know'd
they didn't have no bacon and collards, so I told him
to bring me a piece of roast beef. By the time I got
fairly gwine on my beef, Mr. Dorsey cum in and tuck a
seat at the eend of the table not far from me, and ax'd
me how I was pleased with Baltimore. I told him very
well, and was passin a word or two with him, when the
fust thing I know'd my plate was gone, and when I
turned round to look for it, the nigger poked the bill at
me agin. I begun to think that was carryin the joke a
leetle too fur, and ses I—
“Look here, buck; I told you once I hadn't no time
to tend to that now, and I'd like to know what in the
devil's name you tuck my plate away for?”
“What'll you be helped to?” ses he, like he didn't
understand me.
“I ax'd for sum beef,” ses I, “but—” and before
I could git it out he was off, and in a minit he brung
me another plate of roast beef.
Well, by the time I got it salted to my likin, and
while I was taken a drink of water, away it went agin.
I jest made up my mind I wouldn't stand no such
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nonsence any longer, so I waited til he brung me a clean
plate agin, and ax'd me what I wanted.
“Sum more beef,” ses I.
I kep my eyes about me this time, and shore enuff,
the moment I turned to nod to sum gentlemen what
Mr. Dorsey introduced me to, one of the niggers made
a grab at my plate. But I was too quick for him that
time.
“Stop!” ses I.
“Beg pardon, sir,” ses he; “I thought you wanted
another plate.”
“I've had enuff plates for three or four men already,”
ses I; “and now I want sum dinner.”
“Very well, sir,” ses he; “what'll you have?”
“What's your name?” ses I.
“Hansum, sir,” ses he.
Thinks I, you wasn't named for yer good looks then,
that's certain; but I never let on.
“Well, Hansum,” ses I, “I want you to jest keep a
eye on my plate, and not let anybody grab it off til I'm
done with it, and then I'll tell you what I want next.”
Jest then Mr. Dorsey called him to him and sed sumthing
in his ear, and here he cum with Mr. Dorsey's
compliments and a bottle of shampane, and filled one
of my glasses, and then tuck his stand so he could watch
my plate, grinnin all the time like he'd found a mare's
nest or sumthing.
The plan worked fust rate, and after that I got a fair
showin at the beef. Then I ax'd Hansum what else
ther was, and he brung me the bill agin, and told me
I'd find it on thar. Shore enuff, it was a bill of things
to eat, insted of a bill of expenses. Well, I looked it
over, but I couldn't tell the rari de poulets à la Indienne,
or the Pigeons en compote, or the Anguelles à la Tartare
from any thing else, til I tasted 'em, and then I didn't
hardly know the chickens from the eels, they was cooked
so curious. Ther was plenty that I did know though,
to make out a fust rate dinner, and long before they
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brung in the custards, and jellies, and pies, my appetite
was gone. I was jest gwine to leave the table, when
Mr. Dorsey ax'd me if I liked Charlotte Roose. I told
him I hadn't the pleasure of her acquaintance. “Well,
Majer,” ses he, “you better try a little;” and with that
he sent me a plate with sumthing on it made out of
pound-cake and ice cream 'thout bein froze, which was
a little the best thing I ever eat in my life.
Two or three more sich dinners as this would lay me
up, so I couldn't git away from the Exchange in a
month. No more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER IX.
No. 27 Exchange Hotel,
Baltimore,
May 22, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I've always found
that it was the best way to make “good digestion wait
on appetite and helth on both,” as Mr. McBeth ses, to
stir about a little after eatin a harty bate. So after
eatin the excellent dinner at the Exchange, what I told
you about in my last letter, I tuck another turn round
through the city. By this time I begun to git the hang
of the place a little better, and wasn't so fraid of gettin
lost. I turned up South street as they call it, whar ther's
more tailors than would make a dozen common men—
even if the old maxim is true, which I never did
blieve—and went up Baltimore street agin, whar the
fine stores is kep, and whar the galls all go a shoppin
and perminadin in the afternoons to show ther new
dresses.
Well, sir, I can tell you what's a positiv fact, it would
take a French dancin master to git along in Baltimore
street without runnin agin sumbody, and even he couldn't
shassay his way round through the troops of galls without
runnin a fowl of one now and then, or rakin his shins
all to pieces on the pine boxes what is piled all along
the sidewalk, after you git above Charles street. I done
the very best dodgin I could, but every now and then I
run spang agin sumbody, and then while I was bowin
and scrapin a apology to 'em, ten to one if I didn't
knock sum baby over in the gutter what was cumin along
with its ma, behind me, or git my cote-tail fast in among
the crates and boxes so tite that I run a monstrous risk
of losin it bowdaciously. But I wasn't the only one
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what got hung—two or three galls got ther dresses
hitched up, on the nails and hoops, so they blushed as
red as fire, and a old gentleman with a broad-brimmed
hat, and his stockins over his trowses, tumbled over a
wheel-barrow rite into a pile of boxes and tore his clothes
dredful. It tuck the old man sum time to gether himself
up, and git out of the jam he was in. When he
got out he never cussed a word, but he fetched a groan
that sounded like it cum from way down below his
waistbands, and went on.
I thought, at fust, that the store-keepers must be doin
a terrible sight of bisness, to be shure, to be sendin off
and receivin so much goods, but I knocked on sum of
the boxes with my cane, and they sounded as holler as
a old empty bee-gum. I spose the city gits a fust rate
rent for the pavement, but if the merchants was to keep
ther empty boxes in ther sellers, it would be a great deal
more convenient for the people to pass along, and I
should think it wouldn't hurt ther contents a bit. The
fact is a body can't git into the stores to buy nothing,
for the piles of boxes round the doors. I wanted a
piece of tobacker myself, but I couldn't see no store
what I could git into without runnin the risk of breakin
my neck or tearin my trowses.
You may suppose I seed a heap of butiful wimmin
in Baltimore street. Well, so I did; but, to tell you
the truth, I seed some bominable ugly ones too. The
fact is, Mr. Thompson, wimmin's wimmin, all over the
world; and the old sayin, that “fine feathers makes
fine birds,” is jest as true here as it is in Georgia. I'm
a married man, you know, and can speak my sentiments
about the galls 'thout givin offence to nobody; or, at
least, 'thout bein spected of selfish motives. Well then,
I say Baltimore needn't be ashamed of her wimmin, so
far as buty's concerned. “Handsum is as handsum
does,” is a old and true sayin: and if the Baltimore
galls is only as amiable and good as they is butiful,
they'll do fust rate, take 'em on a average. But, like
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every other place, ther's some here that needs a monstrous
sight of goodness to make up for ther ugliness.
I know it used to be a common opinion, that the Baltimore
wimmin was the prettyest in the world; and I've
heard people what had been here before, advise the young
merchants what was gwine to New York to buy goods,
that if they didn't want to lose ther harts, they'd better
go round this city. But that was a good many years
ago, and you know time alters circumstances as well
as circumstances alters cases, and this is the way I account
for the change. Then the Baltimore gails was
most all natives, and come from the same stock, and they
was so universally handsum that nobody could help but
notice it. But the city is growed a monstrous sight since
them days—a great many people from all parts of the
world have come into it—and what was the buty of Baltimore,
has been mixed up with and distributed about
among sich a heap of ugliness, that a great deal of it is
spilt altogether; and what does remain pure and unadulterated,
aint more'n half so conspicuous now as it
used to be. But not withstandin, ther's some monstrous
handsum wimmin in Baltimore, some butiful creaters
with dark hazel eyes, bright auburn ringlets, Grecian
noses, coral lips, and plump, graceful forms, that is
enough to melt the ice from round the heart of a old
bachellor who had been cold as a lizzard for twenty
years: and its my positiv opinion, that a man what
couldn't find a gall handsum enuff in this city, would
stand a monstrous poor chance of gittin suited short of
gwine to Georgia, where the galls, you know, take ther
temperments from the warm Southern skies, ther buty
from the wild flowers that grow in our fields, and ther
voices from the birds that sing in our groves.
After gwine up as far as Youtaw street, I crossed over
and cum down on tother side of the street, lookin along
at one thing and another til I got most down to Charles
street. By this time I begun to be monstrous dry, and
as I'd heard tell a good deal about the sody water what
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they have in the big cities, I thought I'd try a little at
the fust place whar they sold it. Well, the fust docter's
shop I cum to had a Sody water sign up, and in I went
to git sum.
Ses I, “I want a drink of yer sody water.”
“What kind of syrup will you have?” ses he, puttin
his hand on a bottle of molasses.
“I don't want no syrup,” ses I, “I want sody water.”
“Ah,” ses he, “you want extra sody.”
And with that he tuck a glass and put sum white stuff
in it, and then held it under the spout til it was full, and
handed it to me.
I put it to my hed and pulled away at it, but I never
got sich a everlastin dose before in all my life. I got
three or four swallers down before I begun to taste the
dratted stuff, and you may depend it liked to killed me
right ded in my tracks. It tuck the breth clean out of
me, and when I cum to myself, my tongue felt like it
was full of needles, and my stummick like I'd swallered
a pint of frozen soapsuds, and the tears was runnin out
of my eyes in a stream.
I drapped the glass and spurted the rest out of my
mouth quicker'n lightnin, but before I could git breth
to speak to the chap what was standin behind the counter
starein at me with all his might, he ax'd me if I wasn't
well.
“Well! thunder and lightnin,” ses I, “do you want
to pisen me to deth and then ax me if I'm well?”
“Pisen!” ses he.
“Yes,” ses I, “pisen! I ax'd you for sum sody water,
and you gin me a dose bad enough to kill a hoss.”
“I gin you nothin but plain sody,” ses he.
“Well,” ses I, “if that's what you call sody water,
I'll be dadfetch'd if I'll try any more of it. Why, it's
worse nor Ingin turnip juice stew'd down six gallons
into a pint, cooled off in a snow-bank and mixed with
a harrycane.”
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Jest then some bilin hot steam come up into my throte,
that liked to blow'd my nose rite out by the roots.
Ses he, “Maybe you ain't used to drinkin it without
syrup.”
“No,” ses I, “and what's more, I never will be.”
“It's much better with sassypariller, or gooseberry
syrup,” ses he. “Will you try some with syrup?”
“No, I thank you,” ses I, and I paid him a thrip for
the dose I had, and put out.
I wanted some tobacker monstrous bad: so I stepped
into a store and ax'd for sum. The man said he didn't
sell nothin but staples, but he reckoned I'd find some a
little further down, at Smith's. Well, I went along
lookin at the signs till I cum to Shaw, Smith & Co.
Thinks I this must be the place. So in I went and ax'd
a very good lookin man with whiskers, what was standin
near the door, if he had any good chewin tobacker.
“No sir,” ses he, “we haint got any more of that
article on hand than we keep for our own use; but we
would like to sell you some carpets to-day.”
“Carpets?” ses I; and shore enuff, come to look,
ther wasn't another thing but carpets and oil cloths, and
mattins and rugs and sich things in the store; and I do
blieve ther was enuff of 'em of all sorts and figers to
furnish all the houses in Georgia.
After a lit le explanation he told me the Smith I wanted
was J. C. Smith, down opposite to the Museum. He
said I'd find lots of tobacker and segars thar, and I'd
know the place by a big Ingin standin out before the
door. Shore enuff, when I went thar I got some fust
rate segars and tobacker, and a box to put it in.
That's the way they do bisness here. They dont
keep dry goods and groceries, calicoes, homespun, rum,
salt, trace chains and tobacker all together like they do
in Pineville, but every kind of goods has a store to
itself. If you ever come to Baltimore and want some
tobacker or segars, you must go to the stores what's got
little painted Ingins or Niggers standin out by the doors;
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for you mought jest as well go to a meetin house to
borrow a hand-saw, as go to any of the stores here for
any thing out of ther line. I spose, like the sody water,
it's well enuff to them that's used to it, but it's monstrous
aggravokin to them what aint.
As I hadn't been down in the lower part of the city,
I thought I'd git into one of the omminybuses and ride
over to Fells' Pint, and see how it looked. Well, it's
a good long stretch from one eend of Baltimore to the
other I can tell you, and after you cross over Jones' falls
what runs through to the river and divides the old Town
from the new one, you're monstrous apt to think your
gettin into another city, if not in another nation. I
lik'd to put my jaws out of jint tryin to read sum of the
signs. Sum of 'em was painted in Dutch, so I couldn't
make out the fust letter, and sum of the people looked
so Dutch that you mought almost feel it on 'em with a
stick.
I noticed when anybody wanted to git out they jest
pulled a leather strap and the omminybus cum to a halt.
So when we got down to Fell street, I tuck hold of the
strap and gin it a jerk, but the hosses went on fast as
ever, so I jest laid my wait on the strap to stop 'em.
“Hellow!” ses the driver outside, “do you want to pull
me in two?” Cum to find out the strap was hitch'd to
the man insted of the hosses, and I liked to draw'd
him through the hole whar he tuck his money. He was
mad as a hornit, but when he looked in and seed who it
was, he had nothin more to say.
I expect some parts of Fells' Pint would suit Mr.
Dickens fust rate. It's old as the hills, and crooked as
a ram's horn, and a body can hear jest as much bad
English thar as he could among the cockneys of London,
and can find sum fancy caracters, male and female, that
would do honor to St. Gileses or any other romantic
quarter of the British metropolis.
After lookin about a little while at the sailors that
was drinkin toasts and singin songs in the taverns, I
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went down on one of the wharves whar ther was a ship
jest cum from Liverpool. The sailors was singin “All
together, oh, heve oh!” and pullin her in to the wharf.
Poor fellers, they had been out thirty days, workin hard,
in all kinds of weather, and now they was cumin ashore
to giv ther money to the sharpers that was lookin out for
'em like sharks for a ded body. I couldn't help but
feel sorry for 'em, when I thought how in a few days
thay would be without money and without frends, and
would gladly go back to the perils of the ocean, to escape
the treachery that beset 'em on shore.
I went and tuck a seat on some logs what was layin
on the wharf, and smoked a cigar and looked at the
vessels sailin about in the harbour. While I was settin
thar thinkin of ships and sailors, and one thing and another,
a little feller come along with a baskit on his arm,
and ax'd me if I wanted to buy some matches. I told
him no I didn't want none.
“You better buy some, sir,” ses he, “I sell 'em very
cheap.”
The little feller looked so poor and pittiful that I
couldn't help feelin a little sorry for him.
“How much do you ax for 'em?” ses I.
“Eight boxes for a levy,” ses he.
They was jest the same kind of boxes that we git
two for a thrip in Georgia, and though I didn't want
none, I thought I'd buy some of him jest to patronize
him.
“Well,” ses I, “give me two boxes.”
The little feller handed me two boxes and I gin him
a sevenpence.
“You may keep the change for profit,” ses I.
“Thank you, sir,” ses he, and his eyes brightened up
as he put the money in his pocket.
“I like to encourage honest enterprize,” ses I. “Be
honest, and never lie or cheat, and you'll always find
friends,” ses I.
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“Yes sir,” ses he, “I never steals nor cheats no
body.”
“That's right,” ses I. That's a good boy.”
I went on smokin, and in a few minits, when I thought
he was gone, I heard the little feller behind me agin.
“What,” ses I.
“My sister died last week,” ses he, “and we're very
poor, and my mammy's sick, and I can't make money
enough to buy medicine for the baby—”
“Well,” ses I, “I don't want no more matches, but
here's a quarter to add to your profits to-day.”
“Thank you, sir,” ses he, and he went off agin
thankin me, for the quarter.
Poor little feller, thinks I, how much better to give
him that quarter of a dollar than to smoke it out in
segars. He'll go home to his poor mother, happy, and
if he has felt any temptation to be a rogue, the recollection
of my kindness will give him courage to be
honest. I hadn't got done thinkin about him before
here he was, back agin.
“Daddy died last week,” ses he, “and sister Betsy
got her foot skalded, and we haint had no bred to eat
not for a week—ever sense daddy died—and—
“Look here,” says I, “you better go before you kill
off all your relations: I begin to think you're a little
imposter.”
“Oh, no sir, daddy is ded,” ses he, “and mammy
and sister lives all alone, and mammy told me to ax
you if you would come and see her and give her some
money.”
I begun to smell a rat, and ses I, “I'll see your
mammy to the mischief fust, and if I'd had the same
opinion of you that I have now, I'd never gin you the
fust red cent.”
With that the little ragged cus sot up a big laugh, and
put his thum on his nose and wiggled his fingers at me.
“Do you see any thing green,” ses he, “eh, hos?
What do you think of me now, eh? Would you like
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to buy another levy's worth of matches? You see,”
ses he, “I'm one of the b'hoys!—a out and out Fell's
Pinter, by J—;” and then he ripped out a oath that
made the hair stand on my hed, and away he went.
I felt like I was completely tuck in, and I never sed
another word. But I made up my mind when I gin
another quarter away to encourage honesty, it would be
to a different sort of candidate; and, throwing the
stump of my segar into the water, I left the place and
tuck the fust omminybus for the Exchange. I'm done
with Baltimore, and shall start to-morrow for the city
of Brotherly Love. So no more at present from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER X.
Filladelfy, May 23, 1845.
[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—You may be sure I
was tired when I got back to the Exchange after my
visit to Fell's Pint, last night. I couldn't help but
think how I had been tuck in by that bominable little
match seller, and I felt rite mad at myself for bein sich
a fool.
I had a fust rate appetite for my supper, and by the
politeness of Mr. Dorsey—who, tween you and me, is
one of the cleverest fellers I've met with sense I left
Georgia—I got a invitation to take tea in the lady's
supper room. You know when the grand caraven was
in Pineville last year, the manager charged a thrip extra
for admittin people when they was feedin the annimals.
Well, it was worth the money; and if Mr. Dorsey had
charged me double price for eatin at the lady's ordinary
as they call it, I wouldn't grumbled a bit. Ther was a
heap of ladys at the table, rangin from little school galls
up to old grandmothers, all dressed out as fine as a fiddle,
and lookin as pleasin and happy as the Georgia galls do
at a Fourth of July barbycue; and sich a gabblin as
they did keep I never heard before. Jest over opposite
to me was a bridle party from Virginny, what had jest
been gettin married and had come to Baltimore to see
ther honey-moon. It was really a interestin party, and
it almost tuck my appetite from me to look at 'em, they
was so happy and so lovin. They was only married
'bout a week, and of course the world was all moonshine
and hummin-birds and roses to them. They felt like
ther was no other inhabitants in creation, and that all
that was beautiful and bright and good on earth, was
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made for their enjoyment alone. They had ther bridesmaid
and groomsman along, and two or three more
young ladys and gentlemen. The galls was all monstrous
handsum, but the bride was the handsumest of
'em all. Pore gall, she looked sort o' pale and couldn't
eat much supper for lookin at her husband, and he
drunk his tea 'thout any sweetenin in it, just cause she
looked in his cup with her butiful soft eyes.
They put me in mind of the time when I was married,
and of Mary, and by the time supper was over I was
as homesick as the mischief. Segars is good for the
blues sometimes, and I smoked til my hed whirled
round so I couldn't hardly hold my hat on, but it didn't
do me not the least bit of good; so I went to my room
and tried to find in the arms of Morfyus a substitute for
the arms of her who is a great deal dearer to me than
any thing else in this world.
I didn't git much time to sleep for dreamin all night,
and when I waked up in the mornin, Hansum sed the
second gong was rung, and if I was gwine to Filladelfy
in the cars I better git up rite off. Well, out I got, and
dressed and went down to breckfust. After eatin a
good breckfust I ax'd for my bill, and Hansum brung
down my baggage. Every time I looked at Hansum he
was grinnin, but as soon as he seed me lookin at him
he straitened up his face and sort o' pretended to scratch
his hed. I couldn't think what was the matter with the
feller: and when I looked at him pretty hard he grinned
as much as to say, it was the strangest thing in the world
to him why I couldn't understand his meanin. Bimeby,
when I was puttin my change in my purse, I spected what
was the matter. “That's it; aint it, Hansum,” ses I,
handin him a quarter. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” ses
he, and he grinned more'n ever, and if you ever seed
a ugly nigger he was one.
When I was reddy to start, I went to the door to see
if they had put my trunks on the waggon to take them
to the cars, and rite in the middle of the hall I met a
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chap standin with a big painted tin label on his buzzum
what had on it, “Boot Black,” in big yaller letters.
Thar he stood like a sentinel on quarter gard, as stiff as
a post, and as I walked by him he kept turnin round, so
his sign was all the time in view. When I cum back
thar he stood in the same place, with his hands down by
his side, and his hed up, lookin me rite in the face.
Thinks I, he must be a deaf and dum man what blacks
the boots of the establishment, and he want's me to giv
him sum change. Well, I didn't know nothin about
the deaf and dum language, and as I didn't have no slate
and pencil handy, I begun to make signs to him, by
pintin at my boots, and then at him, and then doin my
hands like I was brushin a boot. He nodded his hed.
Then I tuck out my purse and made a motion to him as
much as to say, do you want sum money, and he nodded
his hed agin, twice. Poor feller, thinks I, he can't dun
nobody, and must lose many a debt whar people's always
gwine away in a hurry so. So I handed him a
half a dollar. When it fell in his hand he opened his
eyes and started like he was tuck by surprise. “Thank
ye, sir,” ses he, scrapin his foot and bowin his hed like
a snappin turtle. “Thank ye, sir,” ses he.
You may depend that sot me back like the mischief.
“If you ain't dum,” ses I, “why didn't you speak
before,” ses I.
“I had nothin to spake of,” ses he.
“Couldn't you sed you was the boot-blacker,” ses I.
“I'd tould ye that,” ses he, “but I thought you
could rade;” `and where's the use of keepin a dog and
doin one's own barkin,”' ses he.
Tuck in agin, thinks I. If I hadn't thought he was a
dum man I wouldn't gin him but a sevenpence, nohow.
It was nine o'clock, and I was seated in the cars on
my way to Filladelfy. The road runs rite along in the
edge of the city, near the wharves, and gives a body a
pretty good idee of the heavy bisness part of Baltimore
from the basin clear out to Fell's Pint, in Old Town.
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After we got out of the city, they took out the horses
and hitched in the old steam Belzebub, and away we
went, rattle-te-klink, over embankments and through
cuts, across fields and over bridges, until we was soon
out of site of Baltimore. The mornin was dark and
cloudy and the ground was wet; so if we lost any thing
by not havin brighter skies and a better view of the
scenery, we made up for it by not havin no dust to choke
us to deth. This is a butiful railroad, and the cars is
as comfortable as a rockin chair with arms to it. You
haint got to be bumpin and crowdin up together in the
seats like you do on some roads, for every man has a
comfortable seat to himself; and another thing that I
liked very much was, that the sparks aint always dartin
about your face, and lightin down when you aint spectin
nothin and burnin your clothes off of you.
I begin to find it a great deal colder here than it was
in Georgia when I left home. We had summer in
Pineville more'n a month ago, and everybody had gardin
vegetables on their tables, and my corn was more'n knee
high long before I left. Here ther aint hardly a English
pea to be seen, and the cornfield malitia is still on duty
to skeer the birds from pullin up the sprouts. But in
that line of bisness they can beat us all holler, for I've
seed two or three skeererows standin about in the corn-fields
here that wouldn't only skeer all the birds in Georgia
to deth, but they wouldn't leave a nigger on the
plantation in twenty-four hours after they wer put in the
field. They looked more like the old boy in regimentals
than any thing I can think of.
The road passes through a rather thinly popilated
country most of the distance, til it gits to Haver-degrass,
whar it crosses the Susquehanny river. After that
it goes through a country that keeps gettin better and
better til we git to Wilmington, Delaware, which is a
butiful town on the Brandywine river, 'bout thirty miles
from Filladelfy. Between Baltimore and the Susquenanny
we crossed over several rivers, on bridges, some
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of 'em more'n a mile long, but ther aint no changin, only
at the Susquehanny, which we crossed in a butiful steamboat
to the cars on the other side. From Wilmington
all the way to Filladelfy, we wer in site of the broad
Delaware on our right, on the banks of which, and as
far as we could see on the left, is one of the handsumest
agricultural districts in the country—the houses lookin
like palaces and the farms like gardens.
When the cars got to the depo, they was surrounded
as usual by a regiment of whips. But the Filladelfy
hackmen behaved themselves pretty well for men in
ther line of bisness. Ther wasn't more'n twenty of
'em at me at one time, and none of 'em didn't 'tempt
to take my baggage from me whether I would let 'em
have it or not. Soon as I got so that I knowed which
eend I was standin on, I took a hack and druv to the
United States Hotel in Chestnut street, rite opposite
the old raw head and bloody bones, the United States
Bank.
After dinner I tuck a walk up Chestnut street to the
old State House, whar the Continental Congress made
the Declaration of Independence. The old bildin stands
whar it did, and the doorsills is thar, upon which the
feet of our revolutionary fathers once rested; but whar
are they now? Of all the brave hearts that throbbed
in them old halls on the 4th of July, 1776, not one
now is warmed by the pulse of life! One by one they
have sunk down into ther graves, leavin a grateful posteray
to the enjoyment of the civil and religious blessins
for which they pledged ther “lives, ther fortins and ther
sacred honors.” I felt like I was walkin on consecrated
ground, and I couldn't help but think that if some of our
members of Congress was to pay a occasional pilgrimage
to this Mecky of our political faith, and dwell but for a
few hours on the example of the worthy men who once
waked the echoes of these halls with ther patriotic
eloquence, they would be apt to go back wiser and
better politicians than they was when they cum, and that
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we would have less sound and more sense, less for
Buncum and more for the country in ther speeches in
our Capitol at Washington.
After lookin about the old hall, I went up stairs into
the steeple, whar the bell still hangs what was cast by
order of Congress, to proclaim liberty to the world. It
is cracked and ruined, and like the walls in which it
hangs, the monuments and statues and paintins, and
every other relic of them days, it remains a silent
memento of the past, and as such it should be preserved
as long as the metal of which it is made will stick together.
After takin a good look at it and readin the inscription
on it, I went up higher in the steeple, and tuck a look
at the city. Well, I thought thar was brick and morter
enough under my eyes at one time when I was on the
Washington monument in Baltimore; but, sir, Baltimore,
large as it is, ain't a primin to Filladelfy. I could
see nothin but one eternal mass of houses on every side.
On the east, I could see the Delaware, what divided the
city from the houses on the Jersey side, but on the north
and south, it was impossible to see the eend of 'em.
They stretched out for miles, until you couldn't tell one
from another, and then the confused mass of chimneys,
roofs and steeples, seemed to mingle in the gray obscure
of the smoky horizon. The streets run north and south,
east and west, at right angles, as strait and level as the
rows in a cotton patch. The fact is, I can't compare
the city to any thing else but one everlastin big chess
board, covered with pieces. The churches with steeples,
answerin for castles, the State-house, Exchange and
other public bildins, for kings, the Banks for bishops,
the Theatres and Hotels for knights, and so on down til
you cum to the private houses, which would do to stand
for counters. The only difficulty in the comparison is
that ther ain't no room to move—the game bein completely
blocked or checkmated every whar, except round
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the edges, and whar ther is now and then a square left
for a public walk.
I was standin thar ruminatin and wonderin at the great
city that was stretched out at my feet and thinkin to
myself what a heap of happiness and misery, wealth
and poverty, virtue and vice it contained, and how if I
was a Asmodeus what a interestin panorama it would
afford me, when the fust thing I know'd I cum in a ace
of jumpin spang off the steeple into the tree-tops below.
Whang! went something rite close by me, with a noise
louder than a fifty-six pounder, that made the old steeple
totter and creak as if it was gwine all to pieces. I
grabbed hold of the railins and held on to 'em with all
my might, til I tuck seven of them allfired licks, every
one of which I thought would nock my senses out of
me. It jarred my very inards, and made me so deaf I
couldn't hear myself think for a ower afterwards. Come
to find out it was the town clock strikin in the steeple
rite over my head. It was a monstrous lucky thing for
me that it wasn't no later, for I do believe if it had been
ten or leven o'clock it would been the deth of me.
As soon as I got able to travel I cum down out of
that place and went through Independence Square,
what's right in the rear of the State House, to Washington
Square. This is said to be the handsumest public
square in the world—it certainly is the handsumest I
ever seed, and I do blieve that on this occasion ther
wasn't that spot of earth on the whole globe that could
compare with it. I don't mean the square itself, though
that is handsum enuff in all conscience, with its butiful
gravelled walks, its handsum grass-plats, its shady trees,
and ellegant iron fence, that would cost more itself than
all the houses in Pineville—but what I mean is the scene
what I saw in the square.
If there was one I do blieve ther was fifteen hundred
to two thousand children in the square at one time, all
rangin from two to seven and eight years old, and all
dressed in the most butiful style. Thar they was, little
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galls and boys, all playin and movin about in every
direction—some jumpin the rope, some rollin hoops,
here a party of little galls dancin the polker, and thar
another playin at battledoor or the graces—some runnin
races and some walkin; some of 'em butiful as little
Coopids, and all as merry and sprightly as crickets. It
was a kind of juvenile swoiree, as they call 'em here,
and I never did see any little creaters that seemed to
enjoy themselves so much. I never seed so many
children together before in all my life, and it seemed to
me ther wasn't a sickly one among 'em. Perhaps the
sickly ones couldn't come out when the wether was so
cool. But if they was a fair specemen of the children
of Filladelfy, then I can say there aint a city in the
world that can beat her for handsum, clean, well-dressed,
healthy-lookin children. Ther was lots of nurses among
'em to take care of 'em, and now and then you could see
a pair of little niggers tryin to mix in with 'em; but it
was no go, and the pore little blackys had to sneak
round the corners and look on like pore folks at a frollick,
the little children not bein sufficiently edicated yet
to enable them to discover their equals in the sable descendants
of Africa.
While I was lookin about in the square who should
I see but the famous Count Barraty, what was out to
Pineville you know about two years ago lecturein on
Greece. Thar he was with the same old shaggy locks
and big moustaches, standin near a groop of servant
galls, with his arms folded, lookin on in the attitude of
Bonaparte at St. Helleny. Poor old feller I couldn't
help but pity him, when I thought what terrible vicissitudes
he has passed through sense he was in Georgia.
You know when he left Pineville he told us we would
hear from him in the papers, and in less than a month
we did hear from him shore enuff in the Pickyune, what
gin a account of that terrible encounter he had with a
cowhide in the hands of sum gentleman in New Orleans,
whose lady didn't understand Greek enuff to enable her
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to appreciate his foreign manners. The count don't wear
so much jewelry now as he use to in Georgia, and his
clothes look a little seedy. But he's the same old Count
in every other respect. As soon as he seed me he relaxed
the austerity of his moustaches and went out of
the square.
Bimeby the swoiree was over, and the nurses begun
to gether up ther charges and prepare for gwine home.
The merry laugh and song soon died away, and troop
after troop of little people filed out of the gates in every
direction, until the square was entirely deserted.
It was tea time and I went to my hotel. Sense tea I
have rit you this letter, informin you of my arrival here.
I'm gwine to bed early to-night, and if it don't rain to-morrow
I'm gwine to take a early start and see what
Filladelfy's made out of before nite. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
-- 088 --
LETTER XI.
Filladelfy, May 24, 1845.
[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—You know it's the
fashion now-a-days for young people at the south, when
they git married, to start rite off to the north before the
preacher has hardly had time to bless 'em. Well, I
never could make out what they done so for—I never
could see why they couldn't stay at home til they got
rite well acquainted with one another before they went
whar they wouldn't see nothing but strangers. One
thing I do know though, and that is, they nor nobody
else don't come to these big cities to sleep; for if the
seven sleepers themselves was to put up in one of these
northern hotels, they'd have to take a dose of lodnum
to save ther reputations. The omnibusses and carriages,
and drays and carts, seems all the time like one everlastin
harrycane, roarin and rattlin, and crashin and
smashin along over the stones from mornin til night,
and from night til mornin; and I don't care if they put
you seven stories high, you can hear 'em all the time.
and you can't sleep a wink, if you're ever so tired, til
you learn to sleep with your ears open, and to dream
'bout bein in sich a infernal racket that you can't hear
yourself snore.
I aint very certain whether I waked up at all or not
this mornin, but I got up to breckfast, and after sprucin
up a little, I went out to see the city. Gwine along up
to Sixth street, who should I meet but Mr. More, what
you know was out to Pineville winter before last, travellin
for his helth. You remember he was almost ded
with the consumption, and looked like he was bleeged
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to carry rocks in his pockets to keep the wind from
blowin him away. Well, would you blieve it, he's a
sound and well man, and looks this day as if he mought
live to be a hundred years old. I never seed such a
alteration in any body in my life, and I wouldn't have
know'd him from Adam if he hadn't spoke to me fust.
“Why, Major Jones,” see he, “how are you—how
d'ye do? I'm so glad to see you. How's Mrs. Jones
and the baby, and all of 'em?”
I looked at him right hard while he was shakin my
hand, and ses I, “You've got the advantage of me,
sir.”
“Why, don't you know me, Major—More's my
name—don't you remember More, what used to come to
your plantation after—?”
“To be sure,” ses I. “But is it possible? Why
you don't look like the same man. I never should
have know'd you agin in the world. What upon yeath
has brung you out so?”
“Why, major, when I cum back almost ded last
summer, I tuck to drinkin—”
“Taint possible, Mr. More; is you bloated up so?”
ses I.
“Oh no,” ses he, “I didn't take to drinkin licker.
I drunk 'bout fifteen bottles of Schenck's Pulmonic
Syrup, and you see what it's done for me.”
“Is it possible?” ses I.
“Yes,” ses he, “I weigh a hundred and thirty-five
pounds now, and I'm indebted to Schenck's Syrup for
all but my bones. But no more about that,” ses he.
“Whar are you gwine, and what can I do for you. Is
yer famly along?”
“No,” ses I, “I'm jest on a little trip of observation
to the north, and am only gwine to stay a day or two to
look at your city.”
“Well,” ses he, “then you'll jest walk with me to
the Exchange. When I git through a little bisness I've
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got thar, we'll take a drive, and I'll show you the wonders
of this part of the world.”
Well, we went down to the Exchange, a butiful white
marble bildin, with columns and porticos, and two monstrous
grate big lions layin upon the side of the steps.
Its a very handsum bildin, and like all the public bildins
in Filladelfy, is as clean and white as a Georgia bredtray
after a hard scrubbin. I looked round the big
Change room, at the angels painted on the ceilin, and
the other curiosities, til Mr. More got through his bisness,
and then we went to the hotel, whar I waited til
he could go home and git reddy.
Bimeby here he cum in his carriage, with two splended
match greys, and a couple of frends who was gwine with
us. After introducin me to Mr. Wiggins and Mr. Hunter,
we got in and druv out to Fairmount Water Works on
the Skoolkill.
I've seed picters of this place before, but I didn't
have no idee it was so handsum, or that it was sich a
grate curiosity. I can't take time to describe it to you
now, but I can jest give you a idee of it. Well, you
must know the river Skoolkill is a grate big river, almost
as big as the Savanna or the Chattahooche in Georgia,
that runs down by the city til it empties into the Delaware.
It used to go sweepin along on its journey to
the sea as free as any other river in the nation, til some
years ago, when the city authorities tuck it into ther heds
that they'd dam it, and set it to work. So they did;
and now it don't only furnish the water that the people
use, but it is compelled, its own self, to throw that water
up into the basins on the hill, so it can run down in the
pipes all over the city. Ther is some of the biggest
water wheels thar in the world, what make a noise like
distant thunder, and remind one of the groans of old
Ixion, as ther grate ponderous forms turn gloomily on
ther never-resting axis. The house whar the works
is, is a dark ugly place, and made me feel bad to be
-- 091 --
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thar, but when I cum out and looked at the butiful
basin of water between it and the hill, and seed the
statu of a gall standin on a rock jest above, holdin a
goose by the legs, with its neck stretched up and squirtin
out of its mouth a stream of crystal water, that shot
up into the bright sunshine and come down in sparklin
dimonds all over her white marble shoulders, and seed
the handsum bildins and statues and fountains, and the
butiful scenery all around, I thought it was one of the
most delightful places I ever seed in my life, and if I'd
had time to spare I could spent a whole day looking
round it.
After lookin about awhile at the Wire Suspension
Bridge and other curiosities, we went to the Girard
College, what we've heard so much about for the last
fifteen years. You know Mr. Girard was a monstrous
rich man, what died in Filladelfy a long time ago, and
left a heap of money to bild a college for the edication
of the pore orfan boys of Pensilvany. The money was
left in the hands of directors, who was to see that it was
put to the proper purpose. Well, they're bildin a college,
sure enuff, but I have my doubts whether it will ever be
any benefit to the pore orfans for whom it was intended.
It aint done yet, and thousands of pore children have
growed up to be men sense it was commenced. When
it is done, it will be one of the most aristocratic lookin
institutions in this country, and I'm of the notion that
if any pore boy ever does go through it, it will be like
I did: in at the door and out at the roof, if he don't git
kicked out before he gits so high.
They tell me it aint nothin like the bildin Mr. Girard
wanted it to be, and all the money has been used up in
bildin a palace that wont have nothin to support it after
it's bilt. I spose then it'll be seized for its debts and
sold to some rich corporation for 'bout half what the
ground is worth that it stands on, after which it will become
a school whar no pore boy can ever learn his A.
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B. C's. One thing is certain, it will be the handsumest
school house in creation when it is done; but I think
if I had the money what one of its white marble pillars
cost, I could do more good to the pore orfans of Pensilvany
with it than the whole bildin will ever do. Nobody
can look at this magnificent pile without bein filled
with admiration; but every true frend of the pore orfan
would rather see it tumbled to the ground, if the money
it has cost could be used to bild log free schools where
they're needed, and pay teachers that would edicate the
poor children of the country. The greatest wonder to
me is, how a man what had sense enuff to make so much
money, and filanthropy enuff to give it for such a object,
could allow'd himself to be so bamboozled in the management
of it. It convinces me of one thing, and that
is, if a man really wants to do good in this world with
his money, he better be at it when he's on the top of the
ground himself.
We went through the bildin from the bottom to the
top. It's all solid brick and marble, even to the roof,
what is covered with marble shingles on brick rafters.
Fire can't git hold of wood enuff to raise a blaze, and
the walls is so thick and strong that nothin short of
Florida lightnin or a South American yeathquake couldn't
knock it down.
While we was standin lookin at its lofty proportions,
its white marble walls, and its massive Corinthian columns,
two little ragged boys come up to us and ax'd
us to give 'em some money. “Please, sir, give me a
cent to buy some bred for my mammy,” sed one of 'em.
He didn't have no matches to sell, and I gin him a thrip,
but I couldn't help but think how much more real interest
he had in that thrip, than he had in the magnificent
edifice that was erectin for him. The old maxim ses,
that charity covers a heap of sins, but when the amount
of money that is misapplied by the ostentation of the
rich, in the name of charity, is deducted from the sum
-- 093 --
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total that is given, ther wouldn't be enuff left to save
many souls, I reckon.
The next place we went to, was the Laurel Hill
cemetary, a butiful berryin ground what stands on the
banks of the Skoolkill, about a mile above the waterworks.
The fust thing we seed after we got in the gate
was a butiful group of sculpture in coarse brown stone,
representin Walter Scott the great novelist, settin down
with his hat in his hand, holdin a interview with “Old
Mortality,” who is in the act of repairin a old tomb-stone,
while his donkey is standin by with his bag of tools on
its back. The figures looks like life, and made me feel
very solemn, as I recollected the character of that odd
old man. It is a great pity that the artist didn't use
better materials. Such a work should last as long as
the fame of the great author, what will endure til the
eend of the granite hills themselves. Mr. More tuck
me all through the grounds, and showed me a heap of
handsome monuments, and tombs of great statesmen
and generals, and rich people, among which was some
that cost more than enuff to bild a fine house to live in.
It is a butiful place, whar rich people moulder in good
society; but whether they rest any better beneath ther
costly marble monuments, than the pore people who sleep
on the only spot of yeath they ever occupied without
payin rent, and who have not even a slab, to perpetuate
ther memories, is a circumstance what depends on the
character of the lives they led in this world. The
monuments of wealth is gratifyin to the pride and grateful
to the feelins and affections of the livin, but it is only
the wealth of virtuous actions that avails us any thing
when we are laid in the grave. A pure unspotted heart
in the grave is worth all the costly marble that could be
piled upon it.
We looked round and red the inscriptions til we got
tired, and then we went to our carriage. It was pretty
near dinner time, and the company proposed to go to
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Evan's Tavern, at the Falls, and git a dinner of Catfish
and Coffy. Well, Mr. More's greys soon brung us to
the place, and we had a dinner in no time, and a fust
rate dinner it was. I never drunk better Coffy nor eat
better Catfish, and we had lots of other good things besides.
If you're ever in these parts, you must be sure
to take a dinner at the Falls Tavern.
After dinner we went on til we cum to the Wissahicken,
and druv along on its banks for about a mile,
through some of the prettyest scenery I ever seed in my
life. The stream runs along between rocky banks that
rise into bold and broken hills on both sides, and are
covered with trees that looks as fresh and wild as if they
didn't stand in sight of the smoke of one of the largest
cities in the world. Every now and then we met parties
of boys and galls who was out boat-ridin and gatherin
flowers, and once we came across a whole skool of galls
who was out on a May frolick, with music and banners,
carrying ther armsfull of flowers, and laughin and singin
like so many wood nymphs. This is the place whar
Fanny Kemble writ sich butiful poetry, and I don't
wonder at it, for I do blieve a wheelbarrow would squeak
in measured melody if it was rolled along on the bank
of this butiful stream without grease. But poor Fanny
lives no longer in a world of poetic dreams. She has
proved the sad realities of this wicked world, and her
eyes, that no longer look upon the lovely Wissahicken,
would now see more to make her sad than happy in
scenes that was once so delightful to her contemplation.
Turnin away from the Wissahicken, we crossed over
to Germantown, the place whar you know the great
battle was fit in the revolution. We undertuck to go
the whole length of it, but after we got up as far as
Chew's House, whar the British made sich a obstinate
resistance, I begun to feel sorry for the horses, and told
Mr. More we had better turn back. It's a monstrous
curious, ancient looking town, with houses all bilt of
-- 095 --
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stone, and looking like the great grand-dadies of all the
houses in the world. I would liked to seed tother eend
of it, but I'm told it's so long that when people from the
Filladelfy eend want to go to tother, they take the steamboats
on the Delaware and go round by way of Burlington
or Trenton, New Jersey. The inhabitants is most
of 'em people who do bisness in Filladelfy and have
their residence out thar. Mr. Wiggins pinted out to
me the residences of a good many of his acquaintances,
and among the rest that of Mr. C. Alexander, the Alexander
the Great of the Filladelfy press.
We wasn't long gwine to the city, but it was some
time before we got to the United States Hotel. As we
druv along through the streets I couldn't help but notice
how strait and clean they was, and every now and then
we met people what they call Quakers—the stiffest,
starchiest, mealy-mouthed lookin people I ever seed.
The men had on broad-tailed snuff-colored coats and
broad-rimmed hats, and looked as sober and solemn as
if butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. The wimmin,
most all of 'em, had on drab colored dresses and wore
silk bonnets what sot rite down over ther faces like calabashes,
so you couldn't hardly see whether they was
handsum or not. But every now and then I got a glimse
of a monstrous pretty face from under them bominable
wagon-cover lookin bonnets. Ther's a grate many Quakers
in Filladelfy, and they're monstrous good people,
only they will meddle with what don't consarn 'em, and
keep all the time botherin the Southern people 'bout ther
niggers. I don't want to say any thing agin the Quakers—
I know that as a class ther aint a more honest, respectable
body of people in the country. But then I
really do think that people what claim so much liberty
of conscience as to exampt 'em from the discharge of
ther duty to ther country, by whose laws they are protected
in all the privileges of citizenship, ought at least
to allow the people of the South liberty of conscience
-- 096 --
[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]
to be the judges of ther own domestic institutions. People
like them who go for non-resistance under all circumstances,
ought to be the last people in the world to
make aggressions upon the rights of others. But I
musent git on that subject or I'll never git done my letter.
It was most tea-time when we got back. I went to the
Theatre to see the Opera last night, but I'll tell you all
about that in my next. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
-- 097 --
LETTER XII.
Filladelfy, May 25, 1845.
[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I told you in my
last letter that I was gwine to the opery, and that I'd
tell you what I thought of 'em. Well, to tell you the
truth, I like the opery well enuff, all but the singin.
The scenery is very handsum, the actin is good, and
the fiddlin is fust rate; but so much singin spiles evry
thing. The opery what I went to see at the Chesnut
street theatre, was the Bohemian Gall, and the acters
was the celebrated Segwin Troop, as they call 'em, and
I spose they done it up as well as anybody else could
do it; but accordin to my notion, there's monstrous little
sense in any such carryins on. If operys didn't cum
from Paris, whar all the fashionable bonnets and evry
thing else comes from, and it wasn't considered unfashionable
not to admire 'em, I don't blieve ther's
many peeple in this country what would be willin to pay
a half a dollar a night to hear sich a everlastin caterwaulin
as they do make.
As soon as I got my tea, I went to the theatre, what
ain't a grate ways from my hotel, and after buyin a ticket
of a man in a little hole outside of the green dores, I
went in and tuck a seat on one of the cushioned benches
what they call boxes. Ther was a good many peeple
in the theatre and ever so many wimmin, all dressed
out as fine as they could be, and sum of 'em lookin
monstrous handsum.
Bimeby one of the fiddlers down in the place they
call the orkestry, tuck up his fiddle-stick, and rapped
on his desk, at which evry musicianer grabbed his instrument.
Then the man with the fiddle-stick, after
-- 098 --
[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]
wavin it up and down three or four times, gin his fiddle
a scrape or two what seemed to set the whole of 'em
agwine; and sich another hurra's nest I never did hear
before. Sumtimes all of 'em stopped but one or two;
then they all struck up agin as hard as they could rip it.
Sumtimes the musick was low and soft as the voice of a
sick kitten, and then it was loud and terrible, as if all
the lions, bulls, jackasses, and hiennys in creashun had
got together, and was tryin to see which could make
the biggest racket. They seemed to have evry thing
in the world that would make a noise, from a base drum
to a jewsharp; and evry feller tried to do his best.
One old feller had a grate big fiddle of about one hundred
hoss power, and the way he did rear and pitch
and pull and jerk at it, was really distressin. The old
feller seemed to have the highstericks for fear he
couldn't make as much noise as the rest of 'em, and
he rolled his eyes and twisted his mouth about enuff to
frighten all the ladys out of ther senses. Bimeby they
all blowed out, and at the ring of the bell up went the
curtain.
Then the opery commenced, but for the soul of me I
couldn't hardly make out hed nor tail to it, though I
listened at 'em with all my ears, eyes, mouth, and nose.
The fust thing was a grand singin match by a whole
heap of Bohemian sogers and wimmin, 'bout nobody
could tell what. Then thar was a big fat feller named
Thadeus, what the bill sed was a Polish exile, what
had run away from his country, cum on and sung a song
'bout his troubles, but he put so many dimmy-simmy
quivers in it that nobody couldn't understand what hurt
him. 'Bout this time ther was a gang of Murrelite
lookin peeple, what they called Gipseys, made ther appearance.
The hed man among them was a old feller
named Devil's-hooff, what had the whitest teeth I ever
seed in a white man's hed. This old sot to robbin
the fat Polander the fust thing, but his wife, who seemed
to wear the trowsers, wouldn't let him; and after a little
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singin the Gipseys agreed to take the fat exile into ther
gang, and hide him from his pursuers. Then the Gipseys
went to whar the Governor of Bohemia and his
peeple was, and while they was all singin and carryin
on, sumbody cum in and told them that a wild hog or
sum other varmint was 'bout to eat up the Governor's
baby. Then ther was a rumpus—his excellency and
all his sogers run about the stage and looked at one
another as much as to say, “Grate Heavens! what's to
be done;” til the fat Polander tuck up a gun what was
leanin agin the house, and run out and shot the varmint,
whatever it was, and brung in the baby safe and sound
to its mammy. Then they had another singin match.
The Governor was very much obleeged to the fat man
for savin his baby, and sung to him if he wouldn't take
sumthing to drink. Mr. Thadeus 'lowed he didn't care
if he did, and the licker was sot out; but the Governor
didn't have no better sense than to propose sum political
sentiment what didn't set well on the stummick of the
fat Polander, who throwd down his glass and spilled
the licker all over the floor. Then ther was a terrible
rumpus agin. The Governor made his sogers grab the
man what spilled the licker—with that, old Devil's-hooff
fell to singin and rearin and shinin, tryin to his frend
out of the hands of the sogers—but they sung as loud
as he did, and tuck him, too, and put him in jail with
Mr. Thadeus. But while the Governor and his frends
was singin about it, old Devil's-hooff got out of the jail
and stole the baby what the fat Polander had saved, and
run off with it. They saw him with the baby in his
arms, but the sogers was afraid to shoot at him for fear
of killin it; and when the old rascal got across the
bridge he took out his jack-knife or sumthing else and
cut it down, so they couldn't foller him. Then all fell
to singin agin as hard as they could, like a barn-yard
full of chickens when a hawk has jest carried off one
of ther little ones. When they was about out of breth
they let the curtain down for 'em to rest.
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Well, thinks I, if that's what you call a opery, I'd a
monstrous sight rather see a genuine old Georgia corn-shuckin
frollick, what ther's sum sense in.
Rite close beside me was a feller with three or four
galls, what kep all the time lookin round the house at
the peeple, with a kind of double-barreled spy-glass,
and gabblein and chatterin like a parsel of geese. They
was all dressed within a inch of ther lives, and the chap
had a red and blue morocco cap on, what sot rite tite
down to his hed like a ball-cover. He had a monstrous
small hed, and when he had the spy-glasses up to his
eyes he looked jest like a double-barreled percussion
pistol, and I had half a mind jest to tap him on the hed
with my cane to see if he wouldn't go off.
“Now, ladies,” ses he, “we've got to wait til that
baby grows to be a woman before we see any more of
the opery.”
“Dear me,” ses one of the galls, “I hope they won't
keep us waitin so long 'tween the acts as they always
do; for I'm so much delighted with the opery.”
“And me, too,” ses another one. “It's so refreshin
to hear sich delightful melody; I shall be very impatient.”
“It's exceedingly foin,” ses the feller with the percussion
cap, lookin round the theatre with his spy-glasses.
“I nevaw heard Segwin in better tune.
Fwazau is pwefectly delightful. But I must beg the
ladies to be patient.”
Thinks I, I'll be monstrous apt to be in old Georgia
agin before that baby grows to be a gall; but I can set
up as long as any of you, and, as I've paid my money,
I'm 'termined to see it out.
But I hadn't begun to git sleepy before up went the
curtain agin, and the racket commenced. Shore enuff,
thar was the baby grow'd to be a grate big gall, and
Mr. Thadeus, as fat as ever, was thar singin love to her.
They've both been with the gipseys ever sense, and
she's fell in love with the fat Polander. The queen of
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the gipseys agrees to the match, and the raggymuffins
has a grand frollick and dance on the occasion. 'Bout
this time a Miss Nancy sort of a feller, what's sum
relation to the Governor, comes projectin about among
the gipseys, falls in love with the Bohemian gall, and
wants her to have him. The gipsey queen, who seems
to have sum spite agin the pore gall, steals a medal
from the booby lover, and puts it on her neck; when
the feller, findin he can't git her to have nothin to say
to him, has her tuck up for stealin, and carried before
the governor. The governor, who's had the blues like
the mischief ever sense he lost his baby, is 'bout gwine
to punish her, when he finds out by some mark that she
is his own daughter. Then he sings to her a heap, and
she sings to him, and he takes her home to his palace,
and wants her to marry his booby relation. But she's
got better sense; besides, she's hard and fast in love
with Mr. Thadeus, and won't have nobody else. Her
father won't consent for her to marry a wanderin gipsey,
and thar's the mischief to pay, with singin enuff for
a dozen camp-meetins, all mixed up so nobody can't
tell hed nor tail to it. 'Bout this time, Mr. Thadeus
shows the governor his last tailor's bill, or sumthing
else, that proves to his excellency that he was a gentleman
once, and he gives his consent to the match. Mr.
Thadeus and the Bohemian gall is monstrous happy,
and old Devil's-hooff and the governor and all of 'em
is takin another sing, when the queen of the gipseys
puts up one of her vagabones to shoot Mrs. Thadeus
that is to be; but the feller bein a monstrous bad shot
misses her and kills the queen, which puts a stop to her
singin, though the rest of 'em sing away til the curtain
draps.
And that's the eend of the opery of the Bohemian
Gall. I hain't go the squeelin and howlin and screechin
of them 'bominable gipseys out of my hed yet, and I
blieve if I was to live to be a hundred years old I
wouldn't go to another opery, unless it was one that
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didn't have no singin in it. I like a good song as well
as anybody, and have got jest as good a ear for musick
as the next man, but I hain't got no notion of hearin
twenty or thirty men and wimmin all singin together,
in a perfect harrycane of noisy discord, so a body can't
tell whether they're singin “Hail Columbia” or “Old
Hundred.” Ther is sich a thing as overdoin any thing;
and if you want to spile the best thing in the world,
that's the surest way to do it. Well, for peeple what
ain't good for much else but music, like the French,
Germans, and Italians, a opery full of solos and
and quartetis and choruses, as they call 'em, would do
very well, if they would only talk a little now and then,
so a body could know what they was singin about.
But to sing evry thing, so that a character can't say,
“Come to supper, your excellency!” without bawlin
out—“Co-ho-ho-me to-oo-oo sup-up-up-e-e-er, your-r-r
ex-cel-len-cy,” with about five hundred dimmy-simmy
quivers, so nobody can't tell whether he was called to
supper, or whether he was told that his daddy was ded,
is all nonsense. Let 'em sing whar ther is any sentiment—
any thing to sing about—but when ther is only
a word or two that is necessary to the understandin of
what comes after or goes before; and whar ther ain't
words enuff to make a stave of musick, what's the use
of disguisin 'em so that ther ain't neither sense nor musick
in 'em.
A body what never seed a opery before would swar
they was evry one either drunk or crazy as loons, if they
was to see 'em in one of ther grand lung-tearin, earbustin
blowouts. Fust one begins singin and makin all
sorts of motions at another, then the other one sets in
and tries to drown the noise of the fust, then two or
three more takes sides with the fust one, and then sum
more jines ïn with number two, til-bimeby the whole
crowd gits at it, each one tryin to out-squall the other,
and to make more motions than the rest. That sets the
fiddlers a-goin harder and harder—the singers straiten
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out ther necks and open ther mouths like so many carpet-bags—
the fiddlers scrape away as if they was gwine
to saw their fiddles in two, wakin up the ghosts of all
the cats that ever was made into fiddle-strings, and
makin the awfulest faces, as if it was ther own entrels
they was sawin on—the clarineters and trumpeters
swell and blow like bellowses, til their eyes stick out
of ther heds like brass buttons on a lether trunk, and
the drummer nocks away as if his salvation depended
on nockin in the hed of his drum. By this time the
roarin tempest of wind and sound surges and sweeps
through the house like a equinoctial harrycane, risin
higher and higher and gittin louder and stronger, til it
almost blows the roof off the bildin, and you feel like
dodgin the fallin rafters. For my part I shall have to
go to singin-school a long time, and larn the keys from
the pianissimo of the musketer's trumpet, up to the
crashin fortissimo of a clap of thunder, before I shall
have any taste for a grand opery.
I've always had a great curiosity to see how the free
niggers git along in the Northern States. So after
breckfust this mornin, I ax'd the man what keeps the
books at the hotel whar was the best place to see 'em;
for I'd heard gentlemen what had been in Filladelfy say
that ther was whole squares in this city whar nobody
but niggers lived. The book-keeper told me if I wanted
to see free niggers in all ther glory, I must go down
Sixth street til I come to 'em.
Well, I started, and sure enuff, I hadn't gone many
squares before I begun to smell 'em, and never will I
forgit the sight I saw down in Small street, and sum
other streets in that neighborhood. Gracious knows,
if anybody wants to git ther simpathies excited for the
pore nigger, all they have got to do is to go to this part
of Filladelfy. I've been on the big rice plantashuns in
Georgia, and I've seed large gangs of niggers that had
the meanest kind of masters, but I never seed any pore
creaters in sich a state of retchedness in all my life. I
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couldn't help but feel sorry for 'em, and if I was able,
I'd been willin to paid the passage of the whole generation
of 'em to Georgia, whar they could git good
masters that would make the young ones work, and
would take care of the old ones.
Thar they was, covered with rags and dirt, livin in
houses and cellars, without hardly any furniture; and
sum of 'em without dores or winders. Pore, miserable,
sickly-lookin creaters! it was enuff to make a abolitionist's
hart ake to see 'em crawlin out of the damp straw
of the cellars, to sun themselves on the cellar-dores til
they got able to start out to beg or steal sumthing to eat,
while them that was able was cussin and fightin about
what little they had. You couldn't hardly tell the men
from the wimmin for ther rags; and many of 'em was
diseased and bloated up like frogs, and lay sprawlin
about like so many cooters in a mud-hole, with ther red
eyes peepin out of ther dark rooms and cellars like
lizards in a pile of rotten logs.
This, thinks I, is nigger freedom; this is the condition
to which the filanthropists of the North wants to
bring the happy black peeple of the South! Well, one
of two things is certain:—either the abolitionists is a
grand set of hippocritical scoundrels, or they are totally
ignorant of the condition of the slaves what they want
to git away from ther masters. Materially considered,
the niggers of Georgia is as much better off than the
niggers of Pensylvany, as the pore peeple of America
is better off than the pore peeple of Ireland; and,
morally considered, the advantage is equally as great in
favor of the slaves of the South over the pore free niggers
of the North. For whar social equallity cannot
possibly exist, the black peeple are miserable jest in the
degree that they approach to equality in wealth and
edication with the whites, and are enabled to understand
their degraded position. What's the use to talk
about equallity when no such thing exists. Ther is as
much prejudice agin coler here as anywhar else. A
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body sees that in ther churches, and theatres, and
courts, and evrywhar else. Nobody here that has any
respect for themselves, treats a nigger as ther equal, except
a few fannyticks, and they only do it to give the
lie to ther own feelins, and to insult the feelins of others.
At the South, the relation between the two races is understood
by both parties, and a white man ain't at all
jealous of the pretensions of his servants; but here,
ther is a constant jealous enmity existin between the
whites whose occupations brings 'em in contact with
'em, and the niggers, who is all the time aspirin to a
social equallity, what they never can attain til ther wool
grows strait and ther skins fade white. The races is,
naturally, social antagonists, and it is only in the relation
of master and servant that they can exist peaceably
together. Then, unless the abolitionists can put
'em back into Africa whar they come from, in a better
condition than they was when they found 'em, or unless
they is willin to take ther turn bein servants, they better
let 'em alone.
For my part, I've got as much feelin for the niggers
as anybody can have; but sense they are here among
us, and I've got to live with 'em, I prefer bein master
myself and treatin 'em well, to lettin them be masters
and takin the chances of ther treatin me well. But
one thing is monstrous certain, if my niggers wasn't
better off and happyer on my plantation than these
Northern free niggers is, I wouldn't own 'em a single
day longer. My niggers has got plenty of hog and
hommony to eat, and plenty of good comfortable clothes
to wear, and no debts to pay, with no more work than
what is good for ther helth; and if that ain't better than
freedom, with rags, dirt, starvation, doctor's bills, lawsuits,
and the five thousand other glorious privileges
and responsibili ies of free nigger citizenship, without
the hope of ever turnin white and becomin equal with
ther superiors, then I ain't no filossofer.
After lookin into sum streets that I wouldn't risk my
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life in gwine through, and seein scenes of destitution
and misery enuff to make one's very hart sick, I went
back to my hotel. I spent the rest of the day lookin
about over the city with Mr. More, who wanted me to
go to the opery with him agin. But I couldn't stand
that, and after tea I paid my bill and got all reddy to
leave for New York to-morrow mornin, bright and early.
In a few hours more I will be in the great Gotham.
No more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XIII.
New York, June 2, 1845.
[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I arriv in this city,
all safe and sound, yesterday afternoon about three
o'clock, but to tell you the truth, if I had cum up minus
my coat-tail, or even a leg or arm, after sich a everlastin
racket as I have been in ever sense I left Filladelfy, I
wouldn't been much surprised. As for collectin my
senses and gitin my mind composed so as to know myself
or any thing else certain, I don't never expect to
do it, as long as I'm in this great whirlpool of livin
beins.
A little circumstance happened to me last night, before
I had been here only a few hours, that sot me back a
little the worst. I never was so oudaciously tuck in in
all my born days, and if you had heard me cus about
it, you'd thought I was turned a real Hottentot sure
enuff. But to begin whar I left off in my last letter.
The porter at the United States Hotel waked me up
early in the mornin, and I got to the steamboat jest in
time. It was a butiful bright mornin and the store-keepers
was openin ther stores, while the servant galls
was scrubbin the dore-steps of the houses and washin
off the pavements in front of 'em. I looked at 'em as
I rode along in the hack, and I couldn't help feelin sorry
to see such butiful, rosy-cheeked white galls, down in
the dirt and slop in the streets, doin work that is only
fit for niggers. They say here that they ain nothing
but slewers—but I seed sum that I would tuck for respectable
white galls if I had seed 'em in Georgia.
Slewers or whatever they is, they is my own color, and
a few dollars would make 'em as good as ther mistresses,
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in the estimation of them that turns up ther noses at 'em
now.
The Delaware is a noble river, and Filladelfy is a
city worthy to stand on its banks. From the deck of
the steamboat we had a splendid panaramic view of it,
as we passed block after block, the streets runnin up
from the water's edge, strait as a bee line, and affordin
us glimpses of the fine houses and elegant public bildins
that makes Filladelfy one of the handsumest cities in
the world. But, long as it is, we was soon past it, and
in a few minits its numerous steeples and towers and
masts faded away in the distance, and we turned our
eyes on the butiful country on both sides of the river.
Butiful farm houses and bright-lookin little towns was
most all the time in site, till we got to the place what
they call Bristol, whar we tuck the cars to New York.
The railroad runs along on the bank of a canal part of
the way, crosses the river on a splendid bridge, and
passes through Treaton, Princeton, Newark, and a heap
of other towns in New Jersey, til it to Jersey City,
what stands on the Hudson river, opposite to the city
of New York.
Well, when we got to Jersey City, we all got out and
scrambled through the crowd as well as we could to
the boat what was thar to take us across the river to
New York. When we got up to the gave what encloses
the wharf we could see the hackmen and peepin
at us through the palins, like so many wild varmints in
a big cage, ready and eager to devour us and our baggage
too. I tuck my cane tight in my hand and kep a
sharp eye on 'em, determined to defend myself to the
last. As soon as the gaves was open we rushed for the
boat and they rushed at us. Sich another hellabaloo I
never did see before, and I expected every minit to see
sumbody git spilled overboard in to the river.
I found it wasn't no use to try to keep 'em off without
nockin sum of 'em in the hed, and then I would
only be like the fox in the spellin book, ready to be
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worried to deth by a fresh gang. So when they cum
round me with “Have a hack, sir?”—“I'm public
poorter, sir.”—“Shall I take your baggage up, sir?”—
“Will you give me your checks, sir?”—“Take you
up for two shillins, sir, to any part of the city,”—all of
'em handin ther cards to me at once—I jest backed up
agin the side of the boat and tuck evry card they handed
to me, without sayin a word, and when they ax'd me
for my checks I was deaf and dum, and couldn't understand
a word they sed. That sot 'em to pushin and
crowdin one another, and hollerin in my ear, and makin
signs to me, til they found they couldn't make nothing
out of me, and then they started after sum new victim.
Among the passengers ther was a old sun-burnt lookin
feller, with green spectacles on, what put me in mind
of a Georgia steam doctor, and who seemed to think
he know'd more than anybody else 'bout evrything.
He was gabbin and talkin to evrybody all the way on
the steamboat, and in the cars, and tryin his best to git
up a argyment 'bout religion with sumbody. One would
supposed he owned half the baggage aboard, to hear
him talk about it, and when we got on the ferry boat he
was the bissyest man in the crowd, rearin and pitchin
among the hackmen and porters like a blind dog in a
meat house, and tryin to git into the crowd what was
gathered all round the baggage like flies round a fat
gourd. Bimeby a honest lookin Irishman cum up to me,
and ses he, handin his card, “Shall I take your baggage,
sir?” Ther was sumthing like honest independence
in the feller's face, and I gin him my checks, and
in he went for my trunks. In a minit he cum out safe
and sound with one of 'em. “Stand by it, sir,” ses
he, “til I git the other.” I tuck my stand, and it was
jest as much as I could do to keep the devils from carryin
it off with me on top of it. Ther was sich a everlastin
rumpus I couldn't hear myself think. The clerks was
callin out the numbers—evrybody was runnin about and
lookin after ther baggage, children was cryin, wimmin
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was callin for ther husbands to look out for ther band-boxes—
hackmen and porters was hollerin and shoutin at
the people and at one another—whips was stickin in
your eyes evry way you turned—and trunks, and carpet
bags and boxes was tumblin and rollin in every direction,
rakin your shins and mashin your toes in spite of all you
could do. In the middle of the fuss thar was old
Pepperpod, with his old cotton umbereller in his hand,
elbowin his way into the crowd and whoopin and hollerin
over evrybody else til he disappeared in the middle of
'em. In about a minit here he cum agin, cusin and
cavortin enuff to sink the boat, with a pair of old saddle
bags in one hand, sum pieces of whalebone and part
of the handle of his umbreller in the other, his hat gone,
and his coat-tail split clear up to the collar. He was
mad as a hornit, and swore he would prosecute the company
for five thousand dollars damages for salt and battery
and manslaughter in the second degree. He cut a
terrible figer, but evrybody was too bissy to laugh at
him. I thought to myself that his perseverance was
porely rewarded that time.
I sot thar and waited til nearly everybody was gone
from the boat, and til my Irishman had picked up all
the other customers he could git, before he come and
tuck my trunk and told me to foller him to his hack.
After cumin in a ace of gettin run over three or four
times, I got to the hack, what was standin in the middle
of 'bout five hundred more hacks and drays, all mixed up
with the bowsprits and yards of ships that was stickin
out over the edge of the wharves and pokin ther eends
almost into the winders of the stores. The hackman
ax'd me what hotel I wanted to go to. I told him to
take me whar the southern travel stopped. “That's the
American,” ses he, and after waitin til the way opened
so we could git out, we druv to the American Hotel on
Broadway, rite opposite to the Park.
It was 'bout three o'clock when I got to the Hotel,
and after brushin and scrubbin a little of the dust off,
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and gittin my dinner, I tuck a turn out into the great
Broadway, what I've heard so much about, ever sense
I was big enuff to read the newspapers, to see if it was
what it's cracked up to be. Well, when I got to the
door of the Hotel I thought ther must be a funeral or
something else gwine by, and I waited some time,
thinkin they would all git past; but they only seemed
to git thicker and faster and more of 'em the longer I
waited, til bimeby I begun to discover that they was
gwine both ways, and that it was no procession at all,
but jest one everlastin stream of peeple passin up and
down the street, cumin from all parts of creation, and
gwine Lord only knows whar.
I mix'd in with 'em, but I tell you what, I found it
monstrous rough travellin. The fact is a chicken-coop
mought as well expect to float down the Savannah river
in a freshet and not git nocked to pieces by the driftwood,
as for a person what aint used to it to expect to
git along in Broadway without gettin jostled from one
side to tother at every step, and pushed into the street
about three times a minit. A body must watch the
currents and eddies, and foller 'em and keep up with 'em,
if they don't want to git run over by the crowd or nocked
off the sidewalk, to be ground into mince-meat by the
everlastin ominybusses. In the fust place, I undertuck
to go up Broadway on the left hand side of the pavement,
but I mought jest as well tried to paddle a canoe
up the falls of Tallula. In spite of all the dodgin I
could do, sumbody was all the time bumpin up agin
me, so that with the bumps I got from the men and
givin back for the wimmin, I found I was loosin ground
instead of gwine ahed. Then I kep “to the right as
the law directs,” but here I like to got run over by the
crowd of men and wimmin and children and niggers,
what was all gwine as fast as if ther houses was afire,
or they was runnin for the doctor. And if I happened
to stop to look at any thing, the fust thing I knowed I
was jammed out among the ominybusses, what was
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dashin and whirlin along over the stones like one eternal
train of railroad cars, makin a noise like heaven and
yeath was cumin together. Then ther was the carriages
and hacks and market wagons and milk carts, rippin and
tearin along in every direction—the drivers hollerin and
poppin ther whips—the peeple talkin to one another as
if ther lungs was made out of sole leather—soldiers
marchin with bands of music, beatin ther drums, and
blowin and slidin ther tromboons and trumpets with all
ther might—all together makin noise enuff to drive the
very old Nick himself out of his senses. It was more
than I could stand—my dander begun to git up, and I
rushed out into the fust street I cum to, to try to git out
of the racket before it sot me crazy sure enuff, when
what should I meet but a dratted grate big nigger with a
bell in his hand, ringing it rite in my face as hard as he
could, and hollerin sumthing loud enuff to split the hed
of a lamp post. That was too much, and I made a lick
at the feller with my cane that would lowered his key
if it had hit him, at the same time that I grabbed him
by the collar, and ax'd him what in the name of thunder
he meant by sich imperence. The feller drapped his
bell and shut his catfish mouth, and rollin up the whites
of his eyes, 'thout sayin a word, he broke away from
me as hard as he could tear, and I hastened on to find
some place less like bedlam than Broadway.
By this time it was most dark, and after walkin down
one street til I cum to a grate big gardin with trees in it,
whar it was so still that noises begun to sound natural
to me agin, I sot down on the railins and rested myself
awhile, and then sot out for my hotel. I walked and
walked for some time, but somehow or other I couldn't
find the way. I inquired for the American Hotel two
or three times and got the direction, but the streets
twisted about so that it was out of the question for me
to foller 'em when they told me, and I begun to think
I'd have to take up my lodgins somewhar else for that
night, I was so tired. Bimeby I cum to a street that
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was very still and quiet, what they called Chambers street,
and while I was standin on the corner, thinkin which
way I should go, 'long cum a pore woman with a bundle
under her arm, creepin along as if she wasn't hardly able
to walk. When she seed me she cum up to me and put
her hankerchef to her eyes, and ses she:
“Mister, I'm a pore woman, and my husban's so sick
he ain't able to do any work, and me and my pore little
children is almost starvin for bred. Won't you be good
enuff to give me two shillins?”
I looked at her a bit, and thought of the way the
match-boy served me in Baltimore, and ses I—
“Hain't you got no relations nor neighbors that can
help you?”
“Oh no, sir; I'm too pore to have relations or neighbors.
I was better off once, and then I had plenty of
frends.”
That's the way of the world, think's I; we always
have frends til we need 'em.
“Oh, sir, if you only know'd how hard I have to
work, you'd pity me—I know you would.”
“What do you do for a livin?” ses I; for she looked
too delicate to do much.
“I do fine washin and ironin,” ses she; “but I'm
sick so much that I can't make enuff to support us;”
and then she coffed a real graveyard coff.
“Why don't you git sum of Schenck's Pulmonic
Syrup?” ses I.
“O, sir,” ses she, “I'm too pore to buy medicin,
when my pore little children is dyin for bred.”
That touched me—to think sich a delicate young cretur
as her should have to struggle so hard, and I tuck
out my purse and gin her a dollar.
“Thar,” ses I, “that will help you a little.”
“Oh, bless you, sir; you're so kind. Now I'll buy
sum medicin for my pore husband. Will you be good
enuff to hold this bundle for me til I step back to that
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drug-store on the corner? It's so heavy—I'll be back
in a minit,” ses she.
I felt so sorry for the pore woman that I couldn't refuse
her sich a little favor, so I tuck her bundle to hold
it for her. She sed she was 'fraid the fine dresses
mought git rumpled, and then her customers wouldn't
pay her; so I tuck 'em in my arms very careful, and
she went to the store after the medicin.
Ther was a good many peeple passin by, and I
walked up from the corner a little ways, so they
shouldn't see me standin thar with the bundle in my
arms. I begun to think it was time for the woman to
cum back, and the bundle was beginnin to git pretty
heavy, when I thought I felt sumthing movin in it. I
stopped rite still, and held my breth to hear if it was
any thing, when it begun to squirm about more and
more, and I heard a noise jest like a tom-cat in the bundle.
I never was so supprised in my life, and I cum in a ace
of lettin it drap rite on the pavement. Thinks I, in the
name of creation what is it? I walked down to the
lamp-post to see what it was, and Mr. Thompson, would
you believe me, IT WAS A LIVE BABY! I was so cumpletely
tuck aback that I staggered up agin the lamp-post,
and held on to it, while it kicked and squalled
like a young panter, and the sweat jest poured out of
me in a stream. What upon yeath to do I didn't know.
Thar I was in a strange city, whar nobody didn't know
me, out in the street with a little young baby in my
arms. I never was so mad at a female woman before
in all my life, and I never felt so much like a dratted
fool as I did that minit.
I started for the drug-store with the baby squallin like
rath, and the more I tried to hush it the louder it squalled.
The man what kep the store sed he hadn't seed no such
woman, and I musn't bring no babys in thar.
By this time a everlastin crowd of peeple—men and
wimmin—was gathered round, so I couldn't go no whar,
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all gabblin and talkin so I couldn't hardly hear the baby
squall.
I told 'em how it was, and told 'em I was a stranger
in New York, and ax'd 'em what I should do with the
baby. But ther was no gettin any sense out of 'em,
and none of 'em wouldn't touch it no more'n if it had
been so much pisen.
“That won't do,” ses one feller.—“You can't cum
that game over this crowd.”
“No, indeed,” ses another little runty-lookin feller—
“we've got enuff to do to take care of our own babys
in these diggins.”
“Take your baby home to its ma,” ses another, “and
support it like a onest man.”
I tried to git a chance to explain the bisness to 'em,
but drat the word could I git in edgeways.
“Take 'em both to the Tooms,” ses one, “and make
'em giv a account of themselves.”
With that two or three of 'em cum towards me, and
I grabbed my cane in one hand, while I held on to the
bundle with the other.
“Gentlemen,” ses I—the baby squeelin all the time
like forty cats in a bag—“Gentlemen, I'm not gwine
to be used in no sich way—I'll let you know that I'm
not gwine to be tuck to no Tooms. I'm a stranger in
your city, and I'm not gwine to support none of your
babys. My name is Joseph Jones, of Pineville,
Georgia, and anybody what want's to know who I am,
can find me at the American—”
“Majer Jones! Majer Jones, of Pineville!” ses a
dozen of 'em at the same time.
“Majer Jones,” ses a clever-lookin young man, what
pushed his way into the crowd when he heard my name.
“Majer, don't be disturbed in the least,” ses he, “I'll
soon have this matter fixed.”
With that he spoke to a man with a lether ribbon on
his hat, who tuck the baby, bundle and all, and carried
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it off to the place what they've got made in New York
a purpose to keep sich pore little orfans in.
By this time my frend, Mr. Jacob Littlehigh, who is
a Georgian, livin in New York, had interduced himself
to me and 'bout twenty other gentlemen, and I begun
to find myself 'bout as much of a object of attraction
after the baby was gone, as I was before. I never seed
one of 'em before in my life, but they all sed they had
red my book, and they didn't know nobody else. So
much for bein a author.
They was all monstrous glad to see me, and wanted
to know how Mary and the baby was at home; and
'fore they let me off, they made me go down to Bardotte
& Shelly's Caffé Tortoni, and eat one of the biggest kind
of oyster suppers, and drink sum sherry coblers what
would develop the intellect of a barber's block, and expand
the heart of a Florida live-oak. They was the
cleverest set of fellers I ever seed out of Georgia, and
after spendin a pleasant hour with 'em, laughin over the
incidents of the evenin, they showed me home to my
hotel, whar I soon went to bed to dream of bundles full
of babys and oceans of sherry coblers.
You must excuse this long letter, under the circumstances.
No more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P. S.—Don't for the world let Mary know anything
about the baby, for she'd want to know what upon
yeath I was runnin about the street at night for, holdin
bundles for pore wimmin, and I never could explain it
to her satisfaction. Ther's one thing monstrous certain—
I'll go a hundred yards round the next woman I meet
in the street with a bundle in her arms.
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LETTER XIV.
New York, June 15, 1845.
[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—To tell you the plain
truth, Mr. Thompson, I'm a altered man sense I cum
to New York, at least so far as appearance goes, though
I blieve my hart is in the same place it used to be. It
was sum time before I could giv in to my frend, Littlehigh's
argyments, but as I'm always willin to accommodate
myself to the wishes of my frends, when it can be
done without sacrificin my principles, I consented to
have sum new clothes made in the latest fashion. Accordinly
the other day he tuck me down to Mr. Lownsberry,
in Pine street, and gave the directions to have a
fust rate broadcloth suit made for me, jest like his own.
Well, in two days afterwards, here cums a bran new
suit to my hotel—coat, vest, and trousers. The bootmaker
in Fulton street had sent me a pair of new
French boots, as he called 'em, and I got a hat from
Leary, the great Broadway hat man. I shucked out
of my old clothes and got into my new ones, and sich
a alteration I don't reckon you ever seed afore. It's a
positive fact, I don't blieve Wise or Smart, my coondogs
to home, would be able to know me without
smellin at me for a while. I don't hardly know myself;
and if it hadn't been for my voice which sounded
as familiar as a dinner-horn, I would a-had my dowts.
Mary wouldn't sed the least resemblance to her husband
in me, and I blieve if I had made my appearance
in Pineville, my neighbors would been for puttin me in
jail for a impostor.
My cote ain't so very outlandish, but my trouses and
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jacket is the oddest lookin things in the world. The
trouses is “all buttoned down before,” like daddy
Grimes's old blue cote, and makes me so shamedwhen
I look at 'em that I don't know what to do with
myself; and my jacket cums almost down to my knees,
and is cut out swaller-tailed in frunt, like General
Washington's regimental jacket, what I seed in Washington
city. They're all made fust rate though, and fit
like they had growd on me. They begin to feel a little
better now than when I fust put 'em on, but it will be
sum time before I git used to 'em, and before I can pass
anybody in the street without feelin like I wanted to
turn round to hide my trouses.
You know I told you I had no very grate opinion
of operys. Well, that's a fact; but the other evenin
when I cum to dinner at my hotel, the clerk handed
me a note from Mr. Littlehigh, statin that himself and
two or three of his frends would be very glad of Major
Jones' company in a private box at the Olympic that
evenin, to see the opery of “The Daughter of the
Regiment.” It wouldn't be perlite to refuse sich a
invitation, and I staid home to meet Mr. Littlehigh,
accordin to his appintment.
“Well, 'bout six o'clock Mr. Littlehigh called for
me, and we went to the Olympic. The house was
packed like a barrel of pork, whar ther ain't room
enuff left to git another foot or jowl, nor so much as a
ear into the barrel, all except my frend's private box,
what was pretty close to the stage, and what had
nobody in it but three or four gentlemen who belonged
to our party. The curtain ris with a everlastin singin
and fiddlin, like it did in Filladelfy. Bimeby the
daughter of the regiment cum out, and then I thought
they would tear the theatre down with ther everlastin
rumpus.
“That's our Mary, Majer,” ses Mr. Littlehigh, “and
now if you want to hear a bird of Paradise, jest buckle
back yer ears.”
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She was a monstrous fine-lookin gall, and the way
she could sing was perfectly 'mazin; and then she
handled a musket and marched about the stage like a
regular sargeant of infantry. How the mischief she
ever cum by so many fathers, I couldn't well make out,
for the singin, which, as I told you before, spiles evry
thing in a opery. But it was very plain to be seen
that if the regiment was her daddys, evry feller in the
house was in love with her; and I couldn't help but
think that the feller with the ribbons on his hat, what
kep follerin her about and singin to her how he loved
her, loud enuff to be heard all over the house, stood a
monstrous pore chance among so many. Whenever
she cum on the stage, the peeple all over the house
would rap and clap and holler like they was half out
of ther senses; and whenever she sung a song by herself,
they was certain to make her sing it over agin.
I liked the Daughter of the Regiment myself rather
better than I did the Bohemian Gall, but I'd like 'em
both a good deal better if ther wasn't so much singin
in 'em.
After the opery was over we went down to the Battery,
and after walkin about in the moonlit walks til we
got tired, we sot down on the benches and smoked our
segars, while the waves splashed and roared agin the
rocks, and the wind played with the tops of the trees
behind us. After talkin over matters and things awhile,
we started for home.
As we was gwine along up Broadway we saw a
smoke comin out of a roof of a house down in one of
the cross streets, and turned down to see what it was.
When we got opposite to it, we saw a redish sort of a
light in the winders on the roof, and the smoke pourin
out of evry crack. Mr. Littlehigh run across and
rapped at the dore, and in a minit a old man stuck his
hed out of the lower winder.
“Your house is a fire,” ses Mr. Littlehigh.
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The old man grunted out sumthing, but didn't take
in his old red night-cap or make any movement like he
cared whether his house was afire or not.
“Fire,” ses my frend, loud as he could holler,
pintin up to the top of the house.
The old man grunted out sumthing in Dutch, and
stood as still as a post, starin at us on the other side of
the street. Then Mr. Muggins run across and went
close up to the old codger, and hollered to him—
“I say, old hoss, your house is on fire—up in the
garret.”
It was 'bout twelve o'clock, and the street was still
as a grave-yard. Mr. Muggins made a good deal of
noise, and the old man pulled in his hed and cum back
in a minit with a old shot-gun in his hand, and begun
to cus in Dutch as hard as he could. Mr. Muggins
backed out a little ways, and begun lookin for a brickbat.
Mr. Littlehigh seein that the light was gittin
brighter in the winder, stept on the steps and tried the
dore. By this time two or three more of the winders
was raised, and two or three more red night-caps was
stickin out, lookin at us without sayin a word, except
the old feller below, who was flourishin his shot-gun
and makin a terrible racket.
Just then sum winders was raised on tother side of
the street.
“That house is on fire,” ses Mr. Muggins.
“Wake 'em up next dore,” ses sumbody from tother
side. “They can't understand English in that house.”
With that we rapped at the next dore, and told the
man that cum out what was the matter. The feller
sprung into the street and looked up for a second, and
then run to the old chap that was cussin with the gun
in his hand, and sed sumthing to him. Down drapped
the gun, and out of the winder cum the old Dutchman,
with nothing on but his shirt and night-cap. As soon
as he seed the smoke and light, he sot up a yell that
waked the whole neighborhood, and in half a minit
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they was cumin out of evry winder in the house like
cat-squirrels from a corn-crib—climbin down the waterspout,
and jumpin out of the winders, men, wimmin,
and children—all of 'em half naked and hollerin and
yellin like five thousand wild-cats.
By this time the alarm was spread—the peeple cum
pourin out of the houses in evry direction, and sich a
scene I never seed before in all my life. All we could
hear in English was “fire! fire!” and in a few minits
here cum the firemen with their ingines, rattlin over
the stones, and shoutin and yellin like half the city was
in flames. The dores and winders was open, and old
trunks and furniture and beds was flyin in evry direction.
And after all what do you think it was? Why
nothing but a smoke raised by the family what lived in
the garret, to drive out the musketers. Ther was sum
ten or a dozen families livin in the house, and all of
'em was frightened almost to deth, and turned out of
ther beds into the street, jest because the family in the
roof had gone to sleep leavin a pile of old rags afire to
drive off the musketers.
The firemen went home cussin the Dutchmen, but
we staid awhile with the crowd what was growin bigger
and bigger, to see the fun—and I would gin almost
any thing if I could jest understood Dutch, so I might
know what the pore peeple was sayin to one another
when they was gettherin up and disputin about ther
plunder. The old chap what had the gun was cumpletely
out of his senses. He didn't git the idee that
his house was afire for sum time, but when he did git
it into his hed, ther was no sich thing as persuadin him
out of it. He never tuck time to put on his clothes,
but jest grabbed hold of his daughter, a butiful gall, and
hollered fire! fire! as loud as he could. The pore gall
tried her best to pacify him, but the more she cried and
talked to him, the more he tuck on.
Our party got scattered in the crowd, and when we
was satisfied that tranquillity was restored in Holland,
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Mr. Littlehigh and myself went home, leavin the old
Dutchman hollerin fire, and his wife and daughter tryin
to git him in the house.
It's beginnin to get pretty warm here now, and ther's
a good many Southerners here, and among 'em is sum
of my Georgia frends. Tother day, as I was gwine
along Broadway, who should I meet but Col. Bill
Skimer, of Pineville. You know Col. Bill's one of
the cleverest fellers in the world; and as he was 'bout
the first old acquaintance I had seed for sum time, I
was monstrous glad to meet him. We stopped on the
corner of Park place and Broadway, and shuck hands,
and was chattin 'bout home, when the fust thing we
know'd ther was a crowd of 'bout five hundred peeple
gethered round us.
“Look here, Majer,” ses he, “I can't stand this. I
don't think ther's any danger of ther swallerin me alive,
but I don't like to be gaped at like I was a wild animal.”
So off he started for his hotel, makin a wake among
the crowd like a seventy-four in a mill-pond. The fact
is, Col. Bill is considered a full-grown Georgian at
home, but among us he don't look more'n half so big
as he does here, whar the average size of the men is
much less than it is in our genial soil, whar men's
bodys as well as ther harts git to be as large as ther
Maker ever intended 'em to be. The Colonel ain't so
sensitive as sum peeple about sich things, and takes a
good joke as well as the next man; but when he found
they had been puttin him in the Herald, callin him the
Georgia giant, and makin him out a heap bigger than
he is, he didn't like it a bit.
My old frend, John Hooper, is here, too, from Savannah,
and I don't know how many of the Pelegs
from Augusta. Col. Shoestring, from the wiregrass
settlement, is shinin here in his own peculiar way.
The Colonel is one of the oddest specimens of human
natur I ever seed in my life, and takes jest as much
pride in a ragged cote, a dirty shirt-collar, and a long
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beard, as the greatest dandy does in his finery. His
notions of notoriety, however, doesn't suit this meridean
at all. In a small town whar it would be possible
for him to be known by most of the inhabitants,
perhaps he mought becum distinguished in his line;
but here, whar ther is abundance of all kinds of loafers,
and whar a person who is a man at home is nothing
but a individual, it is no use to try to git notoriety for
sich peculiarities as he indulges in. The Colonel cusses
the omminybuses, and turns up his nose at the dandies
and free niggers from mornin til night, and drinks sassyparilly
sody water, and smokes the worst segars he can
find. He uses about the Bowery, and goes to Chatham
street theatre. He can't bear Niblo's or the Park, and
ses that Broadway is worse than a menagery of wild
varmints.
I haven't sed any thing to you about the New York
ladies, and, as I told you my opinion about the Baltimore
galls, I ought to say sumthing of the ladys of this
city. Well, so far as dressin is concerned, they beat
Baltimore and Filladelfy all holler. But in pint of buty
they ain't to compare to the wimmin of the other cities.
The fact is, I find the further North I go the more fine
clothes and the less handsum faces I see. It would
take enuff money to buy a plantation to dress one of
these Broadway bells as they call 'em, and after all a
man of taste couldn't see much in 'em to fall in love
with. They're generally taller than our Southern galls,
and with the help of the milliners they is pretty good
forms, when they is walkin along before you. But, Mr.
Thompson, all ain't flesh and blood that walks, any
more'n all ain't gold that shines in Peter Funk's
winder; and when you cum to ketch up with 'em and
see ther faces, whatever notions of buty you mought
had before is soon gone. And even if you do now and
then cum across a handsum face ther's sumthing wrong
about 'em, that I can't exactly understand. Sumhow
ther ain't enuff difference between the expression of the
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countenances of the wimmin and the men. The prettiest
blue eyes you meet has a kind of a hard, cast-steel
expression, so different from the soft, meltin looks of
our modest, blue-eyed Georgia galls. Sumtimes you
may see a pair of dark, bright eyes, but ther ain't no
depth in 'em. Ther's the same difference between the
eyes of the Northern wimmin and the eyes of our galls
at home, that ther is between a lookin-glass and a deep
pool of pure, crystal water. You can look into 'em both,
and both reflects your own face; but the glass is all cold,
shallow surface, while you see down deep into the fountain
and understand the source from whar its pure waters
flow. The Northern ladys' eyes seems like they was
only made to look with, while our Southern galls, you
know, can speak so eloquently with their's. No doubt
livin in sich a grate city, whar they is all the time exposed
to the gaze of strangers, has sum effect on the
ladys to make 'em less bashful and shrinkin than our
Southern galls is, and perhaps ther is other causes of
education and habits to make 'em less feminine in the
style of ther buty. But certain it is ther is the greatest
difference in the world between them and the wimmin
of the South, and in my opinion the advantage is all on
the side of our Southern galls.
Mr. Hooper and me is gwine to take a trip to Yankee-doodledum
in a few days, to see Boston and Lowell.
I want to see the great Yankee city, and the factory
galls what I've heard so much about. I will tell you
all about the trip in my next. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XV.
New York, June 25, 1845.
[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—In my last letter I
told you I was gwine to Yankeedoodledum. Well,
I've been to Boston and Lowell, and seed the live
Yankees, Bunkerhill monument and the factry galls, and
a heap of other natural curiosities that more'n paid me
for the trip.
Hooper, who you know is a Odd Feller as well as a very
clever one, wanted to go to the great celebration what
was to take place in a few days in Boston, and as I
wanted to see that part of the world before I went home,
we agreed to go together, and last Monday evenin we
tuck passage in the steamboat Narryganset for Boston.
We hadn't been gone long from the wharves when the
fust thing I know'd the ingine was stopped, the boat
commenced slewin round, and the peeple runnin in evry
direction. Bimeby the ingine give another lick or two
and then stopped agin. Thinks I ther's something out
of jint. Thinkin the biler was gwine to bust or the bote
was broke, I ax'd a old gentleman what was the matter?”
“We is rite at Hell-gate,” ses he.
“The devil we is!—as close as that!” sed a man
with mustashys on his mouth.
Hell-gate! thinks I, and I looked out, and shore enuff
the water was whirlin round and round, and runnin up
stream and crossways and evry other way. Jest then
thump went the old bote agin something, and evry woman
squalled, and the men stood on ther tip-toes. Thinks
I, if we is to go to the bottom, I'd a good deal rather
take a swim in some other place. Everybody said don't
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be alarmed—and one man sed it didn't make much difference
to him, for he started to go to Boston, anyhow.
Bimeby the bell rung, the old ingine sot up a
terrible puffin and snortin, and in a few minits we was
leavin the gate of the infernal regions far behind us.
We passed Frog's Neck—whar they're bildin a young
Giberalter to keep the British from coming down to New
York when Mr. Polk drives 'em out of Oregon—before
sundown, and by dark we was in what they call the
Sound. After smokin a segar we went to our berths,
whar we was soon sound asleep.
It was 'bout daylight next mornin when we got to
Stunnington, in Connecticut, whar they say the peeple
live on fish so much that they smell like whale oil and
have scales on their backs. This may be a bug what
they put on me, but one thing I do know—and that is
that they is great whalers, for they whaled the British
out of ther harbor in the last war, a monstrous sight
quicker than they cum in. It was a bominable dark
foggy mornin, and I couldn't see much of Stunnington,
but what I did see made me think it wasn't badly named—
for it is rocks from one eend to tother, and it was long
after we was out of sight of the town fore we could see
any thing but rock-fences and rock-chimneys, and whole
corn-fields of rocks from the size of a goose-egg up to
that of a gin-house. We got a mere squint at Providence,
in Rodeisland, when we was crossin the river
in the steambote, and in about a ower more we was in
sight of Boston, which looked at a distance like it
was bilt on stilts in the middle of a everlastin big frogpond.
When we got to the depo, the white hackmen cum
rearin and pitchin at us like evry one of 'em had a capias
ad satisfaction, as the lawyers say, for us, and to keep
from gittin tramped into the yeath by 'em, we jumped
into the fust hack what had the dore open, and told the
man to drive us to the Purl street Hotel. Well, bein as
it wasn't near dinner-time, we tuck a walk round to see
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the city, but we soon found out that wouldn't do. If a
man could walk like Mr. Robert Acres wanted to fite
his duel, edgeways, he mought possibly manage to git
through a square or two of Boston 'thout gittin nocked
off the side-walk more'n a dozen times. But for a man
of my size to git along in sich little crooked alleys as
them Boston streets is, is out of the question. Col.
Bill Skimer would be like Mr. Gulliver was in the city
of the Lillypushins—the corporation would be bound
to accommodate him in the common to keep him from
blockin up the streets intirely. Why, they aint much
wider than the space between the rows of a pea-patch,
and then they are so twistified that it's as much as a
common sized body can do to keep both feet in the
same street at the same time. And then what makes it
worse, is the way the Boston peeple walks. They all
go dashin along like they was gwine to die, and hadn't
but a few hours left to settle ther bisness. As for givin
the walk to a lady, or half of it to a gentleman, they
don't think of no sich a thing, and if you don't want to
have your breth nocked out of you evry few steps, you
mought as well take the middle of the street at once,
whar, if you don't keep a monstrous sharp lookout, you
is certain to be run over by ther everlastin grate, long,
sheep-shear lookin carts. Hooper and me tried to keep
together on the side-walk. But it wasn't no use. After
bumpin along for 'bout half a square, I found myself in
the street and my frend half way into a store dore, whar
he was nocked by a feller what was stavin ahead with a
armfull of wooden clocks.
We made our way the best way we could in the direction
of the Monument, what stands over in Charlestown.
The Native Americans had a celebration on the hill, and
one of ther orators was makin a speech to a heap of
peeple what was crowdin all round the stand, jest like
our peeple in Georgia at a Fourth of July Barbycue.
As none of ther speeches couldn't make us no better
Americans than we is, we left the orator and his flights
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of eloquence for the flight of steps what tuck us, after
puffin and blowin enuff to work a two-hos-power steam
ingine, up to the top of the great Yankee Monument,
what has been raised on this Sinai of American Freedom.
If ther is a man in the nation what don't like the
Union and don't feel willin to shed his blood to preserve
it, he ought to make a pilgrimage to this consecrated
spot. If, standin on this majestic pile and looking down
on the ground that received the fust red baptism of
Liberty, while he breathes the air that received the
expirin breth of so many martyred heroes, and looks
upon the sky that witnessed ther heroic valor, he does
not feel his bosom glow with patriotic emotion, and
imbibe a love of country above all sectional prejudices
or interests, then he may be sure he was born on the rong
side of the Atlantic.
From the top of the monument, which is about three
hundred feet high, we could see half over Massachusetts.
Among other things that was pinted out to us in the
guide book, was another monument, of which the Boston
peeple needn't be so very proud. The ruins of the
Ursuline Convent is still standin in sight, to reproach the
intolerant spirit of a peeple who have violated the laws
and disregarded the principles which ther fathers died
to establish in this country.
After cumin down from the monument, we tuck a
walk through the navy-yard and the rope-walk, whar
they was makin rope's long enuff and strong enuff to
pull the Stone Mountain, in De Kalb county, up by
the root, and then went back to our hotel.
On the way back, I tuck the opportunity, when we
was ridin in the hack, and nobody couldn't run over us,
to notice the stores and houses. Exceptin the narrow,
crooked streets, Boston looks a good deal like the other
Northern cities, though to my taste it aint to compare
in no respect to either Baltimore, Filladelfy or New
York. In sum parts of the city the streets is wide enuff
and very clean, and the houses is very fine, but ther's a
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aristocratic air about it, a sort of starchy Sundy-go-tomeetin
kind of a look about this part of the city, that I
don't like a bit better than I do the pinched up, narrow
contrived appearance of the rest.
I noticed one thing about the signs in Boston, which
accounts for the curious way they pronounce ther words.
Ther letters is all littler in the middle than they is at the
eends—as for instance, a letter I looks like a lady that
was dyin of tite lacin. Now, you know the Yankees
ses kyew for cow, and gives a sort of loud-at-both-eendsand-low-in-the-middle
sound to all ther words. Well,
it's my opinion that it is the shape of the letters on ther
signs that makes 'em do it, or maybe the letters is made
by the painters to suit the pronunciation of the peeple.
In Filladelfy the most of the signs is painted in grate
big block letters, and in New York, in all sorts and
kinds. Well, the Filladelfy peeple talk very square
and plain, and in New York ther aint no peculiarity
about their pronunciation—no body can't tell a New
Yorker by his accent. So you see what the influence
of association is.
After dinner we was gwine to smoke our cigars, but
jest as I was biten off the eend of mine, I happened to
look up and see a notice what sed, “No smokin 'lowed
here.”
“Well,” ses Hooper, “I spose they consider this
room aft the machinery—less go forard.”
We went into another room, but the fust thing we
seed thar was, in grate big letters, “No smokin 'lowed
here.” With that we went to the door, thinkin we
mought smoke on the steps, but thar was the everlastin
“No smokin 'lowed here,” stickin up on both sides
of the door.
I looked at Hooper and laughed, but he didn't feel
like laughin.
“What kind of a place is this; I'd like to know,”
ses he. “I wonder if they allow peeple to sneeze when
they take cold?”
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I proposed to git sum matches and go to the common.
“Agreed,” ses Hooper; “any whar whar we can
breathe 'thout violatin the rules.”
I ax'd the man in the office, what had been lookin at
my cigar all the time, like it was a rattle-snake, for a
match.
“I guess you'll find sum in the smokin-room,” ses
he.
“Smokin-room,” ses I, “whar's that?”
“This way, sir,” ses he, and he opened a door of a
little dirty room that smelled strong enuff of tobacker
smoke to nock a man down. Thar was no body in it
but a old codger, in a snuff-colored coat, what was
smokin one of the worst kind of American segars, and
readin “all sorts of paragraphs” in the Boston post.
The floor was covered with ashes and old stumps of
segars, the walls looked like the inside of a Georgia
smoke-house, and the air was strong enuff of smoke
to turn a man into well cured bacon in 'bout fifteen
minits.
“Majer,” ses Hooper, “I can't stand this place—
I've had jest as much of Boston as I want. Less go to
Lowell this afternoon. Maybe we can smoke a cigar
thar, and if you want to see any more of Boston, we can
stop when we cum back.”
I was jest about as sick of the city of everlastin anty's
as he was, and in less than no time we was on the railroad
to Lowell.
This is one of the finest roads in the world, leadin
through a country that seems like one continual village.
The land is poor and covered with rocks, but it's studded
all over with butiful country-residences, with churches
and mills and factories of one kind and another, til you
git to Lowell, which is the handsumest small town I was
ever in. We tuck rooms at the Merrymack House, one
of the best hotels, and, before tea, tuck a walk over the
place. It was a pleasant afternoon, and as we walked
along on the bank of the canal what carries the water
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from the river to the factories, we couldn't help but
notice the clean and healthy appearance of the town.
The clear cool water went sweepin along, deep and
strong, in its rock-banks, over which the green grass
and flowers hung to dip themselves in the stream, while
a roarin sound, that cum from the direction of the great
blocks of five-story factories, reminded us that it was
no idle stream, runnin to waste its usefulness on the
desert shore, but that it gave its power to aid the industry
of man, and to contribute to the wealth of the
nation.
We tuck a stroll on the banks of the Merrymack, below
the town. From different pints we got a fine view
of the place, and found plenty to interest us til tea-time.
We was passin up Merrymack street to our hotel when
the bells rung, and the fust thing we know'd the whole
town was full of galls. They cum swarmin out of the
factories like bees out of a hive, and spreadin in every
direction, filled the streets so that nothin else was to be
seen but platoons of sun-bonnets, with long capes hangin
down over the shoulders of the factory galls. Thousands
upon thousands of 'em was passin along the streets,
all lookin as happy, and cheerful, and neat, and clean,
and butiful, as if they was boardin-school misses jest
from ther books. It was indeed a interestin sight, and
a gratifyin one to a person who has always thought
that the opparatives as they call 'em in the Northern
factories, was the most miserable kind of peeple in the
world.
It was a butiful moonlight night, and after tea we
walked out into the street agin. The stores was all lit
up and the galls was walkin about in pairs, and half
dozens, and dozens, shoppin from store to store, and
laughin and talkin about ther purchases, as if it didn't
hurt 'em to spend ther earnins no more'n other peeple.
Under ther curious lookin cracker-bonnets thar was sum
lovely faces and eyes, that looked better by moonlight
than any I have seed sense I left Georgia; and poor
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Hooper, who you know is a bachellor, bein exposed to
sich a constant display of silf-like forms, rosy cheeks,
bright eyes, and silver-toned voices, begun to feel monstrous
weak about the heart long before the ower cum
for the galls to retire to ther boardin houses; and I was
monstrous fraid he would need settin up with the balance
of the night, his simptoms was so alarmin. By ten
o'clock not a cracker-bonnet was to be seen in the
streets, though the moonlight was as bright as day, and
the stars twinkled and danced in the Heavens above,
and a cool breeze played through the branches of the
trees and rippled the surface of the canal, while the
waters, escapin from ther confinement in many a millrace,
sent up a dreamy murmur, that blended harmoniously
with the scene, and made it one of the loveliest
evenins imaginable. It was a scene and a ower to inspire
love—when the world is turned into a Paradice
and wimmin into angels—and I couldn't help but feel
sorry for the six thousand little nimphs of the spindles,
who had no lovers thar to court 'em on sich a night.
It was late before we went to bed. As I'm to the
eend of my sheet, I'll stop here, and tell you about my
adventures in Lowell, the factories and the factory galls,
in my next. So no more at present from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XVI.
New York, June 26, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I could slep sound
as a rock in a shuck-pen, after havin been nockin
about all day, and havin my mind constantly on the
stretch to take in the wonders I seed in Yankeedoodledum.
But in sich a airy room, and sich a soft, cool,
clean bed as they gin me at the Merrymack House, I
could have gone to sleep with the tooth-ache, and never
waked up til Christmas, if it hadn't been for Hooper,
who was termined to see the galls gwine to work in the
mornin.
I was dreamin about bein in Mahomet's Heaven
among the Houries. Ther was more'n ten thousand
of 'em, all as butiful as Haydees and Venuses, with
cracker-bonnets on, dancin and caperin about under the
shadowy arches of the trees, from which hung long
festoons of bright flowers, while fountains of crystal
water was gushin up in evry direction, and music
floated in the air that was perfumed with the breth of
roses. Bimeby one of 'em, with butiful eyes and long
golden ringlets, what hung down below the cape of her
bonnet, cum dancin up to me with a hank of cotton
yarn in her hand—
“Cum with me—will you cum with me, my dear?”
ses she, smilin so sweet and wavin her hand at me.
“No, I thank you,” ses I, blushin to think she would
ax me sich a question.
“Say not so, dear,” ses she, cumin closer to me.
“Say not so, dear—you must be mine;” and with that
she begun to undo her hank of cotton.
I soon seed what she was up to, and so I started to
quit the place, but the fust thing I knowd she had the
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yarn round my neck, and the next minit 'bout five
hundred of 'em was pullin at me, all singin “Cum
with me, my dear,” like a pasel of sailors a payin
away on a hosser. I pulled and hollered as hard as I
could—I told 'em I was a married man—but they never
let on they heard me, and jest pulled the harder, each
one sayin I 'longed to her.
“Let me go!” ses I, grabbin hold of a tree to hold
on by, and kickin at 'em with both feet at a time; “let
me loose, you everlastin witches, you. I's got a wife
and child to home and can't marry none of you—I
tell you I's a married man!”—
Jest then the hank of cotton broke, and away I went,
and the galls set up one of the loudest squalls I ever
heard.
“What upon yeath's the matter with you, Majer?”
ses Hooper, who was laffin like he had the highstericks.
“Why I never seed a body cut sich anticks
before in all my life. I jest tuck hold of you and
shuck you a little to wake you up, so we mought take
a walk before breckfust, and you begun to kick and
rare like a wild zebra, cussin and swearin about being
a married man, like that had any thing to do with gettin
up early in the mornin.
“And was it you that had a hold of my neck,” ses
I, beginnin to see how it was.
“I jest shuck you a little,” ses he.
“Well, if I didn't think—” ses I.
“What was you dreamin, Majer?” ses he.
But I know'd it wouldn't do to tell Hooper what I
was dreamin, if I ever wanted to hear the eend of it.
So I jest got up and put on my clothes as quick as
possible, and went with Hooper to see the galls gwine
to work.
The sun was jest up when we went down on to the
corporashuns, as they call 'em here, whar the mills is.
It was a most lovely mornin. The factorys was all
still. The yards in frunt of the bildins was clean, and
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the little flower-gardens by the dores was glitterin with
due, as the fust bees of the mornin cum to suck the
honey from the blossums. Ther wasn't many peeple
to be seed in the streets. Now and then we could see
sum men gwine to the countin-rooms and offices, or to
the factorys, but the cracker-bonnets was in eclipse.
The galls was at breckfust at ther boardin-houses,
which are neat two, and sumtimes three-story brick
houses, what stand in blocks near the factorys, and is
owned by the proprietors of the mills.
Bimeby the bells rung. In a minit more the streets
leadin to the mills was swarmin with galls. Here they
cum in evry direction, laughin and talkin to one another
in groops and by pairs, or singly, all lookin as merry
and happy as if they was gwine to a frollic, insted of to
ther work.
Wimmin look well by moolight, and so they do by
early sunlight. The refreshin influence of sleep gives
a brightness and animation to the featurs of a healthy
young gall, who has been fatigued by the labors of the
day, and the mornin ablooshuns, as Mr. Willis calls
washin one's face, like the due on the roses, gives
freshness to ther cheeks and brilliancy to ther eyes.
You may depend thar was sum bright mornin faces in
that crowd. I thought of my dream, and I 'termined
to take warnin by it. I felt if I was a bachellor it
wouldn't be safe to go within the length of a skein of
cotton yarn of sum of 'em, and it wouldn't take a very
strong or a very hard twisted thread to hold me in the
traces.
They poured into the mills by thousands, like bees
into a hive, and in a few minits more the noise of the
machinery begun to git louder and louder, until each
factory sent out a buzzing sound, with which all other
sounds soon becum mixed up, until it seemed we was
into a city whar men, wimmin and children, water, fire,
and light, was all at work, and whar the very air
breathed the song of industry.
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After breckfust we went to one of the mills, whar
we got a little boy to show us the way. The little
feller tuck us from one room to another all over the
mill, and sich other contraptions I never seed before.
The machinery made sich a noise that we couldn't hear
ourselves think, let alone sayin any thing to one another,
and then we was so cumpletely dumfounded by what
we seed, that we couldn't found a word to say even
if we could heard one another talk. Thar was the
galls tendin the looms and the spindles, mixed all up
among the cranks and wheels, and drum-heds and
crossbands, and iron fixins, that was all agwine like
lightnin, and ther little white hands flyin about like
they was a part of the machinery. Bissy as they was,
though, they found time now and then to steal a sly
glance at us, and then I could see a mischievous smile
playin round sum of ther pretty mouths, as much as to
say, what green fellers we was that never seed a
cotton-mill before. I tried to git the hang of sum of
the machinery, but it wasn't no use. Evrything I
seed, from the ceilin to the floor, was whirlin, and
whizzin, and rattlin, and dashin, as if it would tear
evry thing to pieces; but what they was doin or
what sot 'em agwine, was more'n I could make out.
Buzz-z-z-z, went the spindles and the spools; clankclank,
went the looms, and the white cloth was rollin
off in big bolts, but how it was done, was what I
couldn't see into.
After gwine through three or four of the mills,
which was all pretty much alike, we went into one
whar they print calicos. This part of the bisness ain't
the nicest work in the world, though it's very interestin.
We went into the dryin-room as they call it, but we
didn't stay thar but a very short time. If the other
country is much hotter than this dryin-room, it is not
much misrepresented in the accounts we have of it.
When I stepped in I felt the hot air, as I breathed it
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into my lungs, like boilin water, and my hair crisped
up like I was in a bake-oven. Hooper, who, you
know, takes a good deal of pains with his whiskers,
dassent risk 'em in the dryin-room more'n a minit;
and when we got out I felt jest like I'd cum out of a
steam-bath.
The next place we went to was the whip manufactory,
whar we seed a cover braided onto a whipstalk,
by machinery, in about two minits. From thar
we went to another place, whar they made cotton and
woollen cards. That machine banged any thing I ever
seed in all my life. I've always thought that a machine
that could make any thing as well as it could be
made with hands was pretty considerable of a machine.
But to see a little iron contraption take a piece of
lether and a coil of wire, and cut off the wire and
bend it double, punch the holes in the lether, put the
wire in the holes, push 'em in and bend 'em, and
fasten 'em thar quicker and better than five men could
do it, went a little ahed of any thing I ever heard or
dreamed of. The man that invented that machine
could invent one to eat shad without swallerin the
bones, or one that could pick a man's pocket when
he was wide awake, without gettin found out. The
only wonder is, that he didn't invent sum way to
fool Old Deth himself, and live for ever. But the
poor man is ded, and, like all men of genius, died
very poor.
The next place we went into was a machine carpenter's
shop, whar the rough boards cum into one
dore in a cart and went out at the other in panel-dores,
winder-sashes, pine boxes, &c. Saws and plainers
and chissels and awgers was sawin, plainin, chisselin,
and borin in evry direction by machinery, with men to
tend 'em; and for one that wasn't acquainted with the
bearins of the place, it was necessary to keep a pretty
sharp look-out to prevent havin a shavin tuck off of
him sumwhar, or to keep from bein dove-tailed, or
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havin a awger-hole put rite through him fore he know'd
what hurt him. It was most dinner-time, and we
didn't stay thar long.
At the Merrymack House we had one of the finest
dinners I ever eat in my life. But the dish what
tuck my fancy most, was a fine biled Merrymack
salmon. What a pity salmons don't grow on pine
trees—then we could have 'em in Georgia; but as that
can't be, I would advise you, if ever you cum this
way in pea-time, to stop at the Merrymack House.
Here they git 'em rite out of the water, and if a dish
of Merrymack salmon and green peas wouldn't bring a
ded man to life, then he may be buried with perfect
safety. After the desert we had fruit, and among
other things sum of the finest ox-hart cherries. They
wer monstrous good, and if the man counted the
seeds on my plate, he knows I done 'em justice.
Hooper loved 'em too. We sot thar sum time eatin
cherries and talkin 'bout the factory galls and the
machinery.
“Ain't it a pity,” sed Hooper, “that these galls is
Yankees. If it wasn't for that,” ses he—
“Well, that's a fact,” ses I. “But you oughtn't to
mind that, Hooper.”
“Ah, Majer,” ses he, “it wouldn't do. But I did
see one gall thar that—”
“Stole your hart,” ses I; for I know'd he was very
sceptible of the tender passion, and I had hard work to
git him out of one room in the Boot Mills.
“No, not 'zactly, Majer; but to tell you the truth, I
couldn't keep my eyes of that tall, dark-complexioned
gall what was tendin the starchin-machine—the one
what was readin in a book. Ther was sumthing so
winnin, so amiable, and yet so dignified about that gall,
that I shall never forgit her. But she's a Yankee, and
maybe a ravin abolitionist.”
“Well, Hooper,” ses I, to change the subject what
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was beginnin to make him serious, “if I was a woodpecker
I'd cum to this country every summer, jest to eat
cherries—they're so good.”
“Well, if I was a woodpecker I wouldn't do no
sich thing!” ses Hooper.
“Why not?” ses I.
“Why, because these everlastin Yankees would be
certain to invent sum cussed machine to ketch me.”
Ther was sumthing in that, and I had no more to
say.
In the evenin we tuck a walk to look at the town.
Passin by a book-store, we went in to git sumthing to
read. The old gentleman what keeps the store show'd
us sum numbers of the “Lowell Offering,” what he
sed was made up of the writins of the factory galls.
Hooper sed he'd bet that gall he seed readin in the
mills was one of the writers, and he told the man to
let him have all the numbers. Hearin us say we
would like to see sum of the writers, Mr. Davis, who
is a monstrous clever, obligin man, sed he would be
very happy to interduce us to sum of 'em. We tuck
him at his word, and in a few minits more he show'd
us into a neat little parlor, whar we was soon made
acquainted with Miss Harriet F—, the editor of the
Offering, and her mother. Miss F— promised Mr.
Davis to take good care of us, and to see that none
of the Lowell galls stole our harts, and he went back
to his store. We spent a ower in very agreeable
chat with Miss F—, who is a true specimen of a
New England gall. She has worked in the mills
for several years, but now devotes herself to the
magazine what she edits, supportin her mother by
her own industry. After awhile she proposed to
interduce us to sum more of the literary factory galls,
and takin my arm, she carried us through several of
the mills, and interduced us to the galls who was at
ther work.
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As we was passin the great machine carpet factory,
she ax'd us if we had seed 'em weavin carpets on the
power-looms. We told her no—that we went thar in
the day, but they wouldn't let us in.
“Oh!” sed she, “they didn't know you was Southerners,
or they wouldn't been 'fraid of your stealin ther
patent.”
I didn't know zactly whether she meant that as a compliment
or not.
We went to the office, and ses Miss F—:
“Mr. Peters, here's a couple of Southern frends of
mine, what wants to see the carpet-looms.”
“Well, but, Miss F—,” ses he, “you know its
entirely agin the rules for anybody to be admitted to
see the machinery.”
“Yes; but,” ses she, “I don't care for the rules—
these gentlemen are all the way from Georgia, and they
must see the looms.”
“But—” ses the old man.
“I don't care,” ses she; “I'll be answerable for all
the damage.”
“Well,” ses Mr. Peters, “you can go into that
room, (pintin to a dore,) and when you're in the packin-room,
I guess you can find the way into the looms
without my lettin you in.”
That was sufficient, and in we went. I ax'd Miss
F— if that man wasn't a Yankee inventor.
“O, no,” ses she; “he's only a ordinary genius in
these parts.”
The carpet-looms is a grate specimen of American
ingenuity, bein the only power-looms for weavin carpetin
in the world; but my hed was so full of wonders
that I had seen durin the day, that I hadn't no room
for the carpet-looms. Besides, they is such thunderin
grate big, smashin iron things, and go at such a terrible
rate, that I expected evry minit to git my branes
necked out by 'em.
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After takin a look at 'em for a few minits, we went
out, and visited sum more of the literati. Miss F—
interduced me to Miss Lucy L—, the author of
“The Wasted Flowers,” one of the prettyest little allegorys
in the English language; and which Judge
Charlton, of Georgia, and several other popular
poets, has tried ther hands on without bein able to
improve it a bit. Miss L— was in the packin-room
of one of the mills, as clerk, checkin off the goods as
they were bein put up into bales. She had worked in
the mills several years. I never met with a more
interestin young lady, though I spose she wouldn't
thank me for callin her a lady, as she gin me her autograf
in a very different spirit. It reads—
“Major Jones:
“Sir—I have the honor to be, yours, very respectfully,
a bona-fide factory girl,
Lucy L—.”
We found the place still more attractive as our
acquaintance extended, and I begun to fear that
Hooper would never be willin to quit Lowell. We
tuck tea that evenin with Miss F—, and afterwards
called on several of our new acqaintances, who, with
a party of ther frends, tuck a walk with us on the
banks of the Merrymack. Hooper's symptoms was
gettin worse and worse every hour, and I was 'fraid
to risk him another moonlight night with the factory
galls, for fear he mought meet the fate as a man
what he would be 'fraid of as a woodpecker. So we
bid 'em all good-by, when we parted with 'em for
our hotel.
We was off early in the mornin for Boston, whar we
spent a few hours til the cars started for New York.
I won't stop to tell you 'bout our trip—what a race we
had with another steambote, and how we like to got
blowd to Ballyhack gwine round Pint Judy, and how
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one man lost his bran-new hat overboard, and the
captain wouldn't stop for it. Sufficient that we arriv
safe in this city, though I ain't rite certain that Hooper
didn't leave his hart in the Boot Mills. No more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P. S. We're gwine to take a trip to Niagary Falls
and the Lakes next week.
-- 143 --
LETTER XVII.
New York, July 15, 1845.
[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—I told you in my last that we
was gwine to Niagary. Well, the Monday after I rit
you my last letter, Hooper and me tuck passage on board
the steambote Nickerbocker for Albany, up the Hudson
river, what you've heard so much about. It was a
butiful afternoon, and ther was peeple enuff aboard to
make a fust rate campmeetin—men, wimmin and children,
of all ages, sorts and sizes, and a merryer crowd
couldn't be well raked together. We wasn't long gittin
away from New York, and in a few minits our floatin
castle was movin through a fleet of vessels of all kinds,
gwine and cumin to the city, in one of the largest and
handsumest rivers in the world. Some of the passengers
had books, and maps, and spy-glasses in ther hands,
and was all the time pintin out the interestin places. I
had no time to read about 'em, and while they was porin
over ther books and maps, and axin which is this, and
that, and whar's so and so, I jest tuck my fill by lookin
at every thing that was to be seed.
We had a fust rate view of the Pallisades, as they
call 'em, what goes jest a leetle ahead of any pile of
rock I ever seed before, extendin for twenty miles on
the left bank, and risin in sum places more'n five hundred
feet rite perpendickiler out of the water. Now
and then ther is a fisherman's house standin on the
water's edge, lookin 'bout as big as a bee-gum agin the
everlastin stone wall behind it.
After passin the Pallisades, we cum into the Tappan
Sea, whar the river is more'n four miles wide and looks
as quiet as a duck-pond. Sing Sing prison, what stands
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on the right at the hed of the Tappan Sea, was made to
keep the rascals in New York, what they haint got room
for on Blackwell's Island, but one man sed he didn't
blieve ther was stone enuff in the Pallisades to bild a
house big enuff to hold all that ought to be thar.
In a few minits more we was passin Stony Pint, whar
old Mad Antony Wayne waked up the British sogers
with the pints of his bayonets, one mornin before breckfust,
in 1779, and then we was among the highlands.
The sun was most down, and the mountains—sum of
'em more'n one thousand six hundred feet high—stood
out in bold relief agin the brown evenin sky, throwin
their dark shadows far over the river, that crooked and
twisted about in evry direction, as if it had got lost in
tryin to find its way through 'em.
It seemed as if old Miss Nature had jest tried her
hand at makin hills and hollers, wastin yeath enuff in
her fancy work to make two or three states like the
State of Delaware; and I couldn't help but think what
capers old Boreas must cut in the winter time, when he
undertakes to have a strait blow among these everlastin
crags and caverns, and precipises. One would think
it would take a right smart harrycane to git through 'em
without gettin scattered into forty thousand directions.
Such monstrous mountings I never seed before. They
may talk about pilin Ossa on Pelion, but if a body wanted
to astonish the world with a mounting, all they would
have to do would be to put Crow's Nest on Butter Hill,
or Bull Head on Bare Mount, and if that wouldn't lay all
the other hills in the shade, then they mought take my hat.
The passengers was all terribly delighted with the
scene, and them that had books and maps couldn't git
time to see any thing for answerin the questions of them
what didn't have none. Thar was one man from New
York, with a crowd of ladys, that know'd all about
every place we passed, and, to hear him talk, a body
would s'posed he had been born and raised all along the
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shore like the Indian was. The ladys kep him monstrous
busy, you may depend.
“Whar's Antony's Nose, Mr. Johnson?” says one
of 'em.
“Oh yes,” ses another, “I want to see old Antony's
Nose. They say it's one of the greatest curiosities in
the world—it's so perfectly natural.”
“Antony's Nose?” ses Mr. Johnson, puttin his spy-glass
up to his eye. “Let me see. Ah, thar it is. You
can jest see the tip eend of it round that projection.”
“Whar! whar?” ses a dozen of 'em at once. “Do
tell us.”
“In a minit, ladies, we'll have a good view. There
now, do you see? Thar it is, rite ahead. That's Antony's
Nose.”
Well, I looked, and so did everybody else, but it
looked as much like a fodder stack as a man's nose to
me.
“I can't see no nose,” ses a old chap what had his
hed tied up with a red handkerchief to keep from ketchin
cold.
“Which eend is the nose on?” ses one of the ladys.
“Oh I see it—I see it,” ses a long-legged dandy in
check trowses. “I see it jest as plain as the nose on a
man's face.”
“Whar is it?” ses a dozen that was stretchin ther eyes
out of ther heds, but couldn't make it out no better than
I could.
“Why,” ses Mr. Johnson, “rite thar, a little on the
right of the wheel-house. Now, can't you see it, Miss
Abbigal, jest beyond that big rock in the edge of the
water thar? I can almost see the nostrils.”
“To be sure,” ses the dandy; “if it was a little later
we could hear it snore.”
“I can't see no sign of a nose,” ses a man what was
oglin the mountain with all his might, with a one-eyed
spectacle tied to a black ribbon.
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“Nor me nother,” sed all of 'em.
“Well, it's monstrous strange,” ses Mr. Johnson—
“it's so plain. I can't see nothin else.”
“Aint you mistaken, Mr. Johnson?” ses one of the
ladys.
“Lord, no,” ses he; “I know it so well—I've been
on it as often as I've got fingers and toes.”
'Bout this time the captain of the boat passed along.
The passengers stopped him and ax'd him whar was
Antony's Nose?
“'Bout five miles ahead,” ses he; “you will see it
shortly af er we pass the next landin.”
Mr. Johnson was tuck with a sudden desire to promenade
with one of the ladys, and we didn't see his nose
no more on the top deck that night.
Bimeby we cum to Antony's Nose, sure enuff, but it
had been blowed so that nobody couldn't tell whether it
was a Roman nose or a pug—not by the old gentleman
himself, but by some oudacious stone quarryers, who had
to go and blast it all to pieces, as if ther wasn't enuff
rock in the place without ther taking such a liberty with
old Antony's countenance. Some men, you know, find
as much satisfaction in spilin a wonder, as others does
in findin 'em.
It was so dark when we got to West Pint—the place
whar Uncle Sam teaches the young ideas how to shoot
the enemies of our country—that we didn't see but
monstrous little of it. The boat stopped at the landin
a few minits, and we had time too look round on the
hills that seemed to rise to the skies, fencin us in on
every side, cuttin off the river above and below us, so it
looked as if we was in a little lake among the hills, insted
of bein on a river two hundred miles long.
We had a monstrous good supper, but I lost my share
of the strawberries and cream jest 'cause I happened to
call one of the nigger waiters “boy.” The kinkyheaded
cus looked at me sideways, and rolled the whites
of his eyes at me like he was gwine to have a fit of
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hidryfoby, and carried the berries and cream rite past
me to the other eend of the table. I called some more
of the waiters, but it was no use. The fust one had
told the rest, and all ther dignitys was up. They kep
lookin at me and whisperin to one another, and makin
motions, and I could smell the musk so strong that it
like to tuck my appetite from me, hungry as I was. If
you should ever cum this way a travellin, you musn't
call the nigger waiters, boy, nor uncle, nor buck, nor any
frendly, home name; and if your trunk happens to have
Georgia on it, you'd better scratch it off, if you want
any attention or civility from the waiters. They're all
misters here, and the she ones is misses, and it puts the
old harry in 'em to call 'em by any thing but ther
Northern names. You may call pore white men and
wimmin waiters, servants, slewers, or any thing you
please, but you must take monstrous good care how
you speak to the free niggers.
After supper we tuck a smoke on the top deck.
If the scenery of the Hudson is “grand, gloomy and
peculiar,” in the day-time, it don't lose none of its
charms by moonlight. To be sure, the mountings
don't look so bold, and we don't see so many prominent
objects standin out separate and distinct, excitin our
admiration on ther own hook as it were, but ther is
enuff to be seed to help the imagination to make
improvements even on nater itself. Thar's the broad
buzum of the river, reflectin the silver light of the
moon, with here and thar a little sloop or scooner,
glidin along in silence, with its snow-white sails jest
filled by the soft breeze that fans the smoke of your
segar away from your nose—the curvin banks, now
shootin boldly out into the strong light, disturbin the
quiet current of the river, and now retirin into the
deep shade, whar the water is sleepin still and dark as
a nigger baby in a shuck-pen—the lofty peaks raisin
ther bald heds into the sky to bathe 'em in the cold
moon-beams—the ravines and gorges windin and
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twistin about between the hills, or spreadin out into
broad valleys, and reachin away for miles into the dim
haze, whar the dark Catskills rises ther misty forms
agin the vaulted Heavens—all conspirin to make a
landscape which—which, as the novel riters ses, is
more easy to imagine than describe.
Bimeby our segars went out, the moon went down,
the ladys went to ther cabin, and we went to look for
our berths. After huntin about for half a ower or
more for the rite one, I got into a rong one, whar I
hadn't more'n jest got into a doze before a old feller cum
along and hustled me out, showin me a ticket for the
place. By this time sum feller had got into mine,
and when I found him out, and got him awake, and
show'd him my ticket, he got out, cussin and growlin
like a bare with a sore hed, and went to rout out sumbody
else that was in his place. And so the thing
went round from berth to berth, and 'tween the rumagin
about of the servants, who was tryin to find the rite
berths for the gentlemen what had got into the rong
numbers, the cussin of them that was waked up on
suspicion, and the growlin of them that was huntin
about for a bed, in ther bare feet and drawers, I didn't
git to sleep for more'n two owers.
One little duck-legged man, what sed he was a
editor of a newspaper up in Albany, had all the
servants on the bote helpin him to find a bed, and
made more rumpus than all the rest put together.
He didn't have no ticket himself, so he jest kep
gwine round, routin evrybody up to see if they was
certain they was in the rite bed. What made it
worse, his memory wasn't very good, and he would
cum to the same man two or three times. Hooper
was layin rite under me, and you know how cross
old bachelors is at night when they're in bed.
Mr. Squib had waked him up once, and I could
hear him cussin about it, and I spected evry minit
the fussy little feller would cum back, and then I
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know'd ther'd be a row. Shore enuff here cum
Squib with a gang of niggers behind him, all with
candles in ther hands. Fust he looked into my
curtains. “Boo!” ses I, and the little man's hed
disappeared like a shot. The next minit I heard him
wakin up Hooper.
“What number's this you're in, stranger?” ses he.
“Ah, ha! I've got you now,” shouted Hooper,
springin from his berth like a mad tiger, and grabbin
Squib by the neck.
“Murder—murder! take him off!” yelled the little
man, as they went down on the floor together.
Then thar was a row shore enuff. Hooper hollered
stop thief!—the little man hollered murder!—and the
niggers hollered help! The passengers cum scramblin
out of ther berths in all kinds of costume—tumblin
over the chairs and sofas, and grabbin, sum hold
of Hooper, and sum hold of Squib. However,
nobody didn't git hurt, and as soon as Hooper
got a chance to explain how he was subject to the
night-mare, evry thing was quiet agin. But the
little man found a place to sleep in the other eend of
the bote.
Sleep is like the magnetic telegraph—one travels
hundreds of miles in no time when he's asleep—and
early in the mornin we was at Albany. I had to give
a sevenpence for my boots to a nigger what had rubbed
off what little blackin ther was on 'em before, and by
the time I got dressed and got my face washed, we was
at the wharf.
Here was another gang of boddy-snatchers after us
and our baggage. Ther wasn't no choice of evils,
so we tuck the fust feller in the way, who whirled us
off to the railrode depot in a minit. The distance ain't
more'n about five hundred yards, and by the time we
got our trunks off the coach, here cum the passengers
walkin from the bote, with ther baggage in a wagon
belongin to the rode, free of charge. This was take
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in enuff; but would you blieve it, when I gin the
driver a five dollar bill to get it changed, so I could
pay him his fair, the rascal went to his coach, jumped
on the box, popped his whip, and puttin his thumb on
his nose, wiggled his fingers at me as he druv off in a
canter. It was no time to rectify sich things—they
was callin out for the baggage to put it aboard for the
place it was gwine to—Hooper was buyin our tickets—
the bell was ringin for evrybody to git in the cars—
one chap was just caught tryin to steal a gentleman's
trunk rite before his eyes—I looked up agin the wall
and seed hand-bills stickin all about, what sed, in big
letters, “Look out for Pick-pockets!” and I jest put
my hands in my pockets and kep my eyes wide open,
til I got my seat in the cars. When we started I
drawed a long breth, and thanked my stars that we was
out of Albany.
And now I am gwine at the rate of fifteen miles a
ower, and Albany is fast fadin from my sight. I will
stop here while I go on to Buffalow, leavin you to
imagin what happens to me on the way, til you hear
from me agin. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
-- 151 --
LETTER XVIII.
New York, July 18, 1845.
[figure description] Page 151.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—When I left off in
my last letter, I was whizzin along in the cars at the
rate of 'bout fifteen miles a ower, on my way to
Buffalow. You know ther ain't no great deal of
romance in a railrode jurney, if you don't happen
to no mishaps, sich as runnin off the track and
bein tilted heels over hed down a fifty feet embankment,
into a quagmire forty foot deep, or pitchin into
the train what's gwine tother way, and havin a double
seat, back and all, jammed rite through your stummick
in the collision, or bustin yer biler and havin your
arms and legs sent whirlin in evry direction among
the tree-tops in a harrycane of bilin hot steam. Well,
as none of these accidents didn't happen to us to make
our trip interestin, I shan't truble you with a very long
account of my jurney through this part of the great
Empire State.
It is a Empire State, shore enuff—a empire of cities
and towns, standin so thick that, in the railrode cars,
it jest seems to be one everlastin Broadway, with here
and thar a Bolin Green or a Union Park by way of
variety. I tried to keep a run of the towns, but they
stood so thick together and the cars went so fast, that
when I ax'd anybody the name of a place, before I
could make him understand what I wanted, in the
bominable racket, we was in the middle of another
town, and by the time I could understand the hard
name of that one, we was runnin the children and pigs
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off the track, and settin the dogs a barkin, and the
wimmin a lookin out of the winders in another. Jest
as we got out of Amsterdam I ax'd one of the passengers
what place it was. He was readin a newspaper,
and didn't hear me good at fust.
“What town is this?” ses I.
“Eh?” ses he.
“What place is this?”
“This! oh! this is Tripe Hill, I blieve,” ses he.
“What Hill?” ses I.
“It looks like Cawnewaga,” ses he.
“Cawne-which?” ses I.
“Now we are in Fonda,” ses he.
Seein I couldn't git no satisfaction out of him, I give
it up. And shore enuff, cum to find out, we had been
gwine through three towns while I was tryin to find out
the name of the fust one.
This is a go-a-hed country, to be shore. I couldn't
help but think, as we went dashing along in the
middle of cities and towns, over lakes and rivers,
through mountings and valleys, wakin the echoes
with the thunderin clang of our iron wheels, and
settin all the animal creation a caperin over the
fields with the snort of our steam-car—how the old
codgers what lived three or four thousand years
before the Fourth of July would be tuck a-back if
ther ghosts was to cum on a jurney to the United
States now—how ther old notions would have to
stand out of the way before the march of human
knowledge which they would see displayed in evry
thing around 'em. What, for instance, would old
Mr. Abraham think, to see more'n a thousand peeple,
with bag and baggage—more'n all the jack-asses and
camels in his kingdom could carry—travelin at the
rate of fifteen miles a ower, all of 'em as comfortable
and snug as if they was settin in ther own parlors?
Or, to cum down to the later times, what would sich
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fellers as old Pompy and Socrates, and them, think to
see Romes, and Athenses, and Troys, springin up all
round 'em, thick as toadstools on a foggy mornin, with
more commerce, and havin almost as much inhabitants
as the cities of ther own day, what they used to think
couldn't be bilt short of two or three of ther long-lived
generations?
I used to think that the peeple of the old times had
a monstrous sight the advantage of us, livin as they did
to be five and six hundred years old; but, when I cum
to consider, I don't know as they was much better off
than we is. For what's the odds if we don't live so
long as Mr. Methusleum, if we can accomplish more
in our lifetimes than he did in his? If we can git up
a bigger nation in half a century than they did in five
times as long—if our boys know more about science
and other matters at ten years old, than ther's did at a
hundred—if we can travel farther and see more of the
world in a week than they could in five years—if we
can harness up fire and water, and make 'em pull more
cars in a train than Faryo had chariots in his hoste—
if we can make the lightnin carry our mails from one
eend of the yeath to the other in the twinklin of a eye—
if we can print more books in a day than they could
rite in a century—if we can do all these things and
twenty thousand times more than was never dreamed
of in ther filosofy—then what's the use of our livin as
long as they did?
I blieve Providence regulates these things jest about
as well as Congress could if it had the management
of 'em. This world is only a state of preparation for
another kind of existence—a sort of human cabbage-patch,
whar plants is raised from the seed to be sot out
in the gardin of immortality—and the higher the state
of cultivation the sooner we cum to the proper degree
of human development, and of course the sooner we is
reddy for transplantin. But a ralerode car ain't no
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place to filosofise, so I'll drap the subject and go on
with my journey.
We got to Syracuse early in the evenin, and as we
wasn't in no grate hurry, we concluded to stop thar all
night, and take the train the next day. Ther is salt
enuff made in this place, you know, to keep all creation
from spilin, and I wanted to see how they biled it.
We druv up to the salt-pumps, and seed 'em pumpin
the water, and I couldn't help but think, when I seed
the everlastin vats of salt water and the piles of salt in
evry direction, that Mrs. Lott must been near this
place when she looked back at Gomorrow. It's a
monstrous nice town, with a heap of butiful private
houses and high board fences, all as white as table-salt.
We tuck a walk round it by moonlight, and
then went to our hotel and went to bed. The next
mornin, 'bout 'leven o'clock, we tuck the cars agin,
and, passin through one of the butifulest countries in
the world, arrived at Rochester, a handsum city 'bout
as big as Savannah and Augusty both together, a little
after dark. Here we tuck another rest til mornin, when
we tuck the cars what set us down in Buffalow before
dinner time.
After dinner we tuck a walk through the town,
which is a fresh-water sea-port, you know, and a
pretty considerable of a place. In the afternoon we
went aboard of a little steambote what was gwine
down the Niagary River to the Falls. While Hooper
and me was smokin our segars on the deck, and
the passengers was cumin on board, one of the big
lake steamers started off with a rigment of sogers,
what had been ordered from Buffalow to sum other
place up the lake, makin a mighty grand show with
her flags flyin and a band of music playin “Hail
Columby.”
Our bell rung, and in a few minits we was off.
But jest as we got out of the mouth of the creek
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into the lake, we seed a bote with four sailors in it,
and a lady, and a little fat man what was wavin his
handkerchief to us like he was in grate distress. Our
captain stopped his bote til the sailors rowed alongside
and put the lady and the little fat man aboard.
He wanted us to give chase to the big bote what
was gwine up the lake with the sogers, to put the
lady on it, who was the wife of the Curnel, and was
left by mistake. Ther bote was tied behind ours,
and away we went after the big bote, as hard as we
could crack it. But it was no use. The big steamer
was leavin us fast, and all the signals we could make
wouldn't stop her. The lady sot on the seat and
cried like her hart would brake, and the little fat
man cussed and stamped about like he would kick
our smoke-pipe down if he was only big enuff.
The lady, who was a young wife, jest married a few
months, was left in his charge by the Curnel to see
her to the bote while he tended to his sogers; but
the fussy old feller didn't git her thar in time, and
the bote was gone with the Curnel, leavin the pore
gall to cry her pretty eyes out at the idee of bein
parted from her husband until sum other bote could
take her to him.
It was a mighty hard case, and made me feel
monstrous bad, but ther was no help for it; and after
tryin his best to catch the big bote, our captain had to
put her and the old man in ther battow agin; and the
last I seed of 'em the sailors was pullin in to the shore,
what was about five miles off—the old man tryin to
console the pore wife, and she wipin her eyes with her
handkerchef, and gazin after the bote that was fast
gettin smaller and smaller as it bore her husband
from her.
As we was runnin back to the outlet of the Niagary
River, I noticed that our flag didn't have no stars, and
the stripes on it run cross-ways. Think's I that's
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monstrous curious; and I ax'd the captain what sort
of a gigamaree he had got up thar for a flag?
“That?” ses he; “That's Saint George's Cross!”
“Who's Saint George?” ses I; “does he live about
these parts?”
“Oh, no!” ses the captain, “that's the English
colors.”
“The English colors!” ses I. “Why, captain, what
upon yeath is you doin with the British flag on your
bote?”
“This is a British bote,” ses he.
“The thunder it is!” ses I.
And shore enuff, thar we was, abord of a British
bote, with a English captain, and the British flag flyin
over our heds. Hooper sed it was all right; but I
couldn't help but feel sort o' queer with that flag over
me, and I thought of the time when the gallant Perry
made 'em pull it down on that very lake.
The captain was a monstrous clever little man, and
tuck a grate deal of pains to oblige his passengers.
And if all the British was like him, I don't think we'd
have any more rumpus with 'em.
Ther wasn't many passengers, and as we passed
down the river, and all engaged in conversation about
the interestin scenery on its banks, and the grate wonder
we was gwine to see, we got pretty well acquainted.
Among 'em was a tall, thin, pale-lookin Englishman,
what wore a grass-linen cote and trouses, with a high-crowned,
speckled straw hat. He was runnin about all
the time with his gide-book and pencil in his hand,
axin evrybody questions, and gabblin and talkin on
'bout evry thing, like he was half out of his senses.
He was as nervous as a woman; and when he first
seed the colum of spray risin from the catarack—
which we saw several miles before we got to Navy
Island, where the patriots kicked up such a rumpus,
you know, a few years ago—he rubbed his
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hands together, and begun to talk poetry like a play-actor.
We was soon at Chipawa, near the old battle-ground,
whar we tuck a horse railrode for the Falls.
The moon was up high and bright as the horses trotted
us along over the rode, and we could hear the thunder
of the mighty torrent above the noise of the car.
We was all bound for the Clifton House; but when
we got within about a mile of it, a man met us, to tell
us that ther was no room thar, and all except a old
gentleman and two or three ladys what had rooms
engaged, went back to the Pavilion Hotel what stands
upon the hill jest above the Falls. And I was rite
glad we didn't git in the crowd below, for we found
plenty of room at the Pavilion—a good supper, a
obligin landlord, and excellent accommodations, in
evry respect.
With the roar of Niagary in our ears, it was impossible
to go to sleep without first satisfyin our curiosity,
by takin a view of the Fall by moonlight; so as soon
as supper was over, our party, consistin of Hooper, the
Englishman and me, and two other gentlemen from
Filadelfy, started to find what we thought ther wouldn't
be no danger of missin.
We soon cum to a path what had a gide-board to it
and led down in the direction of the falls, and follered
it down the almost perpendickeler steep, holdin on to
the bushes by the way. We didn't go far before the
top of the precipice which we was descendin, shut out
the light of the moon so we couldn't see a sign of the
path. One straggled off one way and one another,
each feelin his way and holdin on to the roots and
bushes, and callin to the others to foller, until we found
ourselves scattered in evry direction, unable to git to
one another, and afraid to go any further down the
slippery, miery bank. We could hardly hear each
other's voices for the heavy thunder of the flood below,
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what seemed to shake the foundation of the hill to
which we clung, as it rolled its gray mists up among
the dark tree-tops below.
“I say, gentlemen,” sed our English frend, “let's
commisshun the one nearest to the top of the 'ill to go
back to the 'ouse for a gide, and we'll 'old on 'ere
where we are, till 'e cums.”
“I vote for the gide,” ses Mr. Kee, from Filadelfy;
“but I couldn't let go this bush for all creation, myself.”
Them was jest exactly my sentiments: for I begun
to feel monstrous ticklish thar in the dark, so close to
sich a terrible place. But I didn't say nothin, waitin
to see if sum one wouldn't volunteer. Mr. More was
nee deep in the mud, 'bout twenty feet from me, and
Hooper was on his hands and nees crawlin up the
bank. Hooper was 'termined to see the falls by
moonlight, so back he went, and in a few minits cum
with a gide, who, after collectin us together and gettin
us in the path which led rite the different way from
what we was gwine, tuck us down to the second bank,
and then led us out to the Table Rock. And thar was
the mighty Niagary, pourin its eternal flood in thunder
down into the dark abyss, from which cum rollin up
grate colums of snow-white mist, supportin a pale
rainbow arch, at once presentin the most butiful and
the most terrible pair of spectacles I ever had before
my eyes.
We stood on the bald Table Rock, what juts out
over the bilin flood below, whar the white foam,
though we can see it dimly through the mist in the
moonlight, gives you no fixed idee of heights or
distances, but rather helps the imagination to extend
the scene upon a scale suited to its awful sublimity.
Not a word was spoke for several minits—each one
held his breth in silent awe—afraid to breathe in sich a
mighty presence. And the fust words uttered was
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exclamations to ourselves, that seemed to cum from
our mouths 'thout our knowin it, as if the very soul
within us was amazed, and was givin utterance to its
emotions, while our fisical naters was overwhelmed
and paralyzed by the terrific display of the majesty and
power of the Being that made the Heavens and the
yeath.
I went close on the edge of the rock, whar the water
dashed over a few inches from my feet, and looked,
fust upon the waves of the wide river, as they cum
leapin and shimmerin in the moonlight, like mountains
of silver, to the verge of the precipice, whar they
suddenly melted into a flood of liquid emerald, frosted
over with flakes of snow, as they dashed down into the
deep, eternal torment of waters below—then upon the
misty cavern that yawned at my feet, whar the waves
that my eyes had follered in ther descent, in the foam
of ther rath, was howlin, and chafin, and surgin like
troubled spirits within ther rocky confines—and then
upon the pale bow that spanned the dismal vortex,
sheddin a calm halo of ethereal buty over the stupendious
scene of terrific horrors.
No one was anxious to leave the spot, or to disturb
the meditations of the others. After a while we
gradually fell into conversation. Our English frend,
who we had by this time found out to be a perfect
gentleman, and a man of excellent good sense, sed
he had travelled the best part of his life, and that
he had seed the grate waterfalls of Switzerland and
South America, but this was the waterfall of the
world—it was the grate feature of America. He had
never seed any thing capable of producin such sublime
emotions, and ses he—“If I was to dy to-night, it
would be a grate source of consolation to know that I
had lived long enuff in the world to see its greatest
wonder.”
After spendin a couple of hours on the Table Rock,
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we returned to our hotel, and soon after went to our
beds, to dream of Niagary, and to awake in the
mornin to explore its magnificent wonders. I will tell
you how it looks by daylight in my next. So no more
from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XIX.
New York, July 20, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I tuck my leave of
you, in my last letter, jest as I was gwine to bed in the
Pavilion Hotel. Well, you may depend I dreamed all
sorts of terrible dreams that night. I went to sleep with
the roar of the cataract in my ears, and it seemed to me
that the bed-posts trembled with the jar. The roarin in
my ears kep growin louder and louder, til it seemed to
me like heaven and yeath was cumin together, and the
fust thing I knowed somehow or other, I was standin
on the edge of Table Rock agin, and a mounting of
water, that reached to the sky, was cumin rollin rite onto
me, to sweep me down into the bilin basin below,
what seemed to be 'bout five miles deep, and filled with
all the devils in the infernal regions. I tried to run, but
for the soul of me I couldn't move a peg—on and over
it cum rite on top of me, and down I went—down,
down, with my mouth chock full of water, so I couldn't
even say my prayers,—but jest as I got to the bottom
and was 'bout pitchin hed fust into the mouth of a water
devil that was as big as a meetin house, I fotched one
all-fired yell—and the next minit I found myself on the
floor, with the bed-clothes on top of me.
Hooper sed it was the night-mare, and if I hadn't
hollered jest as I did, I'd been a gone Jona, shore enuff.
Night-mare or no night-mare, I don't blieve I'd felt
much worse if I'd gone over the Falls in downright
yearnest.
I was afraid to go sound to sleep agin, and so I jest
tuck a turn round the bed-post with one arm, and slep
with one eye open the balance of the night.
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In the mornin before breckfust we tuck another look
at the falls from the Table Rock. This time we had
a better view of the Fall itself, as well as the surroundin
scenery. But notwithstandin it was light, and we could
see for miles around, the objects we looked at was on
sich a different scale of proportion from any thing we
was used to, that ther was no sich thing as formin any
idees 'bout hights and distances, or any thing else.
The more I looked the more I couldn't tell how big a
thing was. Sometimes a rock would look like a mounting,
and sometimes it was no bigger than a goose's egg—
sometimes the islands would look big as my plantation,
and then agin they wouldn't look no bigger than so
many tater-hills—and I begun to wonder how they could
hold ther holts, thar rite in the middle of sich a racin
river, 'thout gettin washed up by the roots and swept
over the precipice-below.
The magnitude of things at Niagary depends altogether
on how a body contrasts 'em. When my eye
tuck in nothing but the mighty river, the everlastin
battlements of rock, and the terrific cateract, why then
they didn't seem to have no partickeler dimensions;
but when I happened to see the houses on the American
side, or a ferry boat crossin below the Fall, or a company
of men clamberin about among the loose rocks, down
by the water's edge, lookin no bigger than so many ants,
then I was able to comprehend the stupendous wonders
of Niagary, and to feel myself no bigger, standing thar
on that rock, than a seed-tick in Scriven county. Some
peeple ses Niagary is a great place to elevate a body's
idees, but with me it had exactly the contrary effect,
and I do blieve if I was to use about thar long, I'd git
sich an insignificant opinion of myself, that I wouldn't
dare to say my soul was my own. I know some peeple
that it would do a monstrous sight of good to go to
Niagary, if for nothin else but to git a correct measurement
of ther own importance in the scale of bein—if
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they didn't git ther notions tuck down a peg or two,
then I'm terribly mistaken.
The stickin in the mud the night before had laid up
our English frend, and when we got back to breckfust
he was jest gittin out of bed, but he was too sick to go
with us to the Falls. After eatin a good breckfust we
went down to the museum kep by Mr. Barnet, whar
we seed all sorts of varmints, and Ingin curiosities, and
minerals and sich likes, and then bought sum tickets to
go down under the Fall to Termination Rock, as they
call it.
I didn't have much notion of foolin about quite so
familiar with sich terrors as the great water-fall itself;
but they all sed ther was no danger, and that evrybody
went thar, and nothin would do Hooper but we must
go. So we went to the house at the top of the stair-way,
whar a old nigger feller tuck us into a room and
told us we must strip off all our clothes, and put on
sum sailor riggins what he would give us, to go under
the falls with.
“But whar shall we leave our money and our
watches?” ses Mr. More.
“You needn't be 'tall fear'd, gemmen,” ses the old
nigger, “jest leave evry thing here, and when you cum
back you'll find 'em all safe, and ef you never cums
back you know, you won't want 'em.”
“We won't!” thinks I, and I begun to feel a little
jubous 'bout gwine in any sich a place.
“I say, uncle—beg pardon,” ses I. “Mister, is thar
any danger in gwine to Termination Rock?”
“Not a bit,” ses he, as he handed me a red flannel
shirt, big enuff for Col. Bill Skimer, and a pair of coarse
duck trowses, without no buttens on 'em. “Not a bit,
if you don't fall into the casum below, and then thar
aint no tellin what would becum of you.”
I stopped strippin and sot down on a bench, and
begun to consider.
“Stop,” ses the nigger to Mr. More, who was pullin
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a par of trowses on over his boots; “you must take
your boots off too—evry thing—and I'll give you a par
of shoes for your feet.”
Thunder!—thinks I—the feller wants to save all he
can, if one of us was to cum up missin.
“Cum, Majer,” ses Hooper, as he was pullin his
shirt over his hed, “no backin out from old Georgy.”
“But,” ses I, “is you certain thar aint no danger in
this bisness?”
“Not a bit, sir,” ses the nigger, “though evrybody
is a little skeered at fust—ladies go under evry day,
and no accident has never happened yet. I was jest
jokin you a little.”
In a few minits more we was all dressed in our yaller
trowses, red shirts, oil-cloth caps, and cowhide shoes,
reddy for the adventure. We follered the lead of the
guide to the stair-way, what went round and round til
we got almost out of breth before we reached the
bottom, whar we stepped out into the path what runs
along on the side of the almost perpendickeler rock
bank, 'bout half-way from the top, gittin narrower and
slipryer as we git nearer to the sheet of water. The
mist from the river was raw and cold, but I blieve I
could shivered in a warm bath jest to look at the place
whar we was gwine.
The Table Rock above perjected out far over our heds,
and the loose rocks what lay in our narrow path rolled
from under our feet down into the foamin basin below.
The old nigger led the way—Hooper follered close to
him, and the rest of us strung along in Injin file behind.
Jest before we got to the edge of the fall we all got a
terrible shower-bath from a spring of water what falls
in the path from the rock above. And now we enter
behind the sheet—the path is hardly wide enuff for
our feet, and slippry with runnin water—the white
spray cums howlin up from the dark pit on our left, and
drives in surgin torrents agin the slimy rocks on our
right—in the darkness we can jest see the black, shelvin
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rock to which we cling on one side, and the curtain of
mad waters that is rushin down within arms-length of
us on the other—the deep thunder of the water stops
our ears to all other sounds, and the spray is so heavy
that we gasp for breth as we shrink close to the tremblin
rocks, agin which it drives til it falls in rain upon its
slipry side. Now the gide turns back, we have reached
Termination Rock, and, filled with a terrible awe that
can find no words to express it, we face about, and
grope our dangerous way back from a scene of terrific
grandure and sublimity, which no pen can describe,
and which is worth the riskin of one's life to know!
When we got out from behind the sheet, and had
got to a place whar the footin was sure, you may depend
I felt monstrous comfortable, and when Mr. More proposed
“three cheers for Old Niagary,” I jin'd in most
hartily, and didn't stop til I had gin it at least half a
dozen of 'em. I spose I felt very much like a man
does after he's been made a Free Mason or a Odd
Feller—the skeer was over, I had found out the
mistery, and I felt that whenever I met any one hereafter
who had put his foot on Termination Rock, I
would be able to participate with him in a sentiment
what nobody who had never been thar couldn't understand.
I wonder that among all the ways they have of making
money here, out of strangers, they never have hit
upon a order of brotherhood, the initiation ceremony
of which to take place on Termination Rock. A order
founded on sich a rock—a rock what the mighty Niagary
itself can't move—certainly would stand, in spite of all
the Billy Morgans in the world.
Before gwine up to change our clothes, the gide tuck
us down to the water's edge, whar a little rock 'bout
the size of Parson Stor's church in Pineville, lies a
little ways out in the edge of the water. To git a good
view of the Fall from the bottom, we clum up the ladder
onto the top of this rock and tuck a seat and looked
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right up agin the great Horse-Shoe Fall, what looked
like as if it cum pourin out of the heavens, it was so
grand and high. Some ladys was standin upon the
Table Rock lookin at us. They seemed to us about
as big as my finger, and I spose we looked 'bout the
same size to them. They waved ther little parasols to
us, and we tuck off our oil-cloth caps and waved 'em
at them.
After takin a good look from the top of the rock we
went down and paddled about awhile in the water that
runs through the broken rocks between the big rock
and the bank, til one of us cum monstrous near gettin
washed out into the rapids. After that we went back
to the room, whar we found our clothes all right.
We hadn't more'n got out of the place before ther
was 'bout a dozen hackmen after us to take us all over
Canada if we wanted to go. One red-headed feller,
what sed he was a patriot in the rebellion, and was put
in prison to keep him from takin the country from the
British, was so pressin that four of us chartered him
to go to the Burnin Spring and Lundy's Lane.
At the Burnin Spring, whar the water blazes up
when you touch it off with a Lucifer match, and burns
like a fat light-wood knot, we lit our segars, and Mr.
More, who is a little hard to blieve, burnt his finger to
be certain it was no take in, and then we druv to the
battle-ground whar our brave sogers in the last war
giv the British sich a delightful evenin's entertainment.
A old chap, what ses he fit in the battle in the British
army, has got what he calls a observatory bilt on the
spot, and tells-peeple all sorts of a cock and bull story
'bout how the thing tuck place, for a quarter of a
dollar, and always has got a few musket-balls left, that
was picked up on the ground. He told us a dollar's
worth of his experience, and we bought sum bullets
of him, and then druv back to the ferry to go over on
the American side.
On this side of the river ther is a pretty considerable
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of a town, and the Yankee character is strikingly illustrated
by the way that they have sot the Niagary itself
to work for 'em, makin it turn saw-mills, grist-mills,
and other machinery. I wouldn't be surprised much
if they was to set the whole American Fall to drivin
cotton-looms and spinnin-ginnies before long.
We went to the old Curiosity Shop, as they call it,
whar a feller has got a Niagary Falls in operation by
machinery. The thing would do very well out in
Pineville, but what upon yeath could possess a man to
try to run opposition to sich a wonder, rite in hearin
and in sight of the real cateract itself, is what stumps
me. Nobody but a jennewine Yankee would ever undertake
sich a thing. He don't charge nothin to see his
Niagary, but makes a heap of money by selling Yankee
made Ingin fixins, sich as moccasins, bead-bags, cardcases,
and a heap of fancy articles, such as the Ingins
themselves never dreamed of makin.
Then we crossed the bridge to Iris Island. After
visitin the Biddle Staircase and the Cave of the Winds,
and seein the American Fall in all its best views, we
went to the Tarrapin Bridge and the Tower, whar ther
was lots of ladys and gentlemen venturin about in
places whar a cat-squirrel wouldn't be safe. 'Tween
climbin rocks and wadin in the water and travelin
about, I was beginnin to be pretty tired; and after
takin a view from the tower, we tuck a hack for the
ferry, and by sun-down was at our hotel agin on the
Canady side, whar our clever landlord had a fust rate
supper reddy for us.
The next mornin our red-headed coachman tuck us
down to Queenston, by way of the Great Whirlpool,
which is the next greatest curiosity to the Falls. The
river gits very narrow before it enters the whirlpool,
whar it runs in and out at right-angles, and whirls
round and round, and boils over and over in its grate
rock basin, what is sed to be more'n five hundred feet
deep.
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After takin a good look at the Whirlpool, we passed
on to the Devil's Hole, and then to the Little Devil's
Hole, and from thar to Queenston Hights, whar we
stopped to take a look-at Brock's Monument, what sum
mean rascal tried to blow up durin the late rebellion.
This was a butiful monument, standin in a butiful place,
and it makes one sorry to see it busted and ruined as it
is. The scoundrel what could be gilty of sich a mean
act as the destruction of a monument to a brave man
who shed his blood for his country, ain't fit to live
among honorable men, and would be a disgrace to a
nation of heathens.
We walked from the monument down to Queenston,
while our Jehu tuck our baggage to the bote that was
to start in half a ower for Montreal. Queenston is a
wondrous dull, dirty-lookin little place, what stands
rite at the termination of the Highlands, through which
the Niagary runs on its way from Lake Ery to Lake
Ontario. The effect is strikin, after follerin the river
from the Rapids above the Falls to this place, with the
roar of its tumultuous waters constantly in one's ears,
and the leapin, angry current constantly before one's
eyes, to see it suddenly spread out its broad, smooth
bosom in the quiet vale, as placid and calm as if
its flow had been unobstructed from its source. Ther
is indeed a “change cum over the sperit of its dream”
at Queenston, and the traveller is monstrous apt to discover
that his thoughts is not wholly without sympathy
with the stream.
But I have tuck up a whole letter in tryin to hurry
over 'bout seven miles. I'll try to travel further in my
next. So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
P. S.—I spose you know that they hain't got no
Fourth of July in Canady, and I was so cumpletely
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tuck up with the wonders of Niagary that I forgot all
about it. It's the fust time in my life that that day
ever missed a harty welcome from me, and I can't account
for it in no other way than bein in this benited
country.
-- 170 --
LETTER XX.
New York, July 22, 1845.
[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—Ther wasn't no
grate rush of passengers like ther always is on the
North River botes, and nobody didn't git nocked over-board
in the confusion and hurryment of gettin aboard
of the Chief Justice Robinson. At the ring of the
bell we was all on board, and a cumfortabler bote or a
more obligin captain ain't afloat on river, lake, or sea,
than ours was.
Ther ain't nothin very wonderful to be seed gwine
down seven miles on the Niagary to Lake Ontario,
except it is the Old Fort Niagary, what's been tuck
and re-tuck, and capitilated and surrendered so often,
'mong the French, the Ingins, the British, and the
Americans, that it ain't very easy to make out who is
got the best rite to it now. It's seed lively times in its
day, that old place has; but it's monstrous lonesum
now, and they say it's been hanted ever sense they put
Billy Morgan in it for blowin the Masons. I hain't got
much blief in ghost-stories, but they say it's a positiv
fact, and that the pore old feller is to be seed every
dark night, dodgin about the dark corners, with a
taller-candle in his hand and a Free-mason's apron
on, lookin like he wanted to tell sumbody sumthing;
but evrybody's so 'fraid of him that he can't git no
chance to tell his secret. One thing is very certain
'bout Billy Morgan: if he couldn't keep the Mason's
secret, he keeps his own monstrous well.
It was a bright sunshiny day, and the water of the
lake as if it wanted to show us how well it could
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behave itself, after its frollick among the rocks of the
Niagary, was as still and quiet as a mill-pond. Our
splendid steamer, with its British flag flyin—jest as
natural as if it was the banner of a sovereign peeple
and had a right to wave “over the land of the free and
the home of the brave,”—went spankin along, on its
way across the lake to Toronto, while the passengers
amused themselves accordin to ther likin. Sum old
codgers tuck a set-too 'bout politicks; sum of the
gentlemen red books and newspapers; sum smoked
ther segars, and sum promenaded with the ladys, while
the little ones went to playin romps on the deck,
keepin ther mothers in a peck of troubles for fear they
mought jump overboard, or brake ther necks climbin
on the awnin-posts.
We wasn't long gwine to Toronto, whar we only
stopped long enuff to git into another bote, and in a
few minits we was under way agin in the steambote
“Sovereign” of the “Royal Mail Line,” as they called
it, on our way down the lake to Kingston.
The names of things begun to sound monstrous
queer to my republican ears, and the red and gold
crowns what was painted on the cabin dores, and
was sticken about in different places on the bote
whar the eagle ought to be, looked odd enuff; but I
didn't find that they made the bote go any faster, or
that my clothes got any tighter for me, because I was
on a British Sovereign of the royal line gwine to
Kingston.
One don't see very much to interest him on the lake,
as what little is to be seed on the shore is so far off
that we don't git much good of it. Hooper and I
passed the time very agreeable though, smokin our
segars and talkin over what we had seed—now and
then pickin up a little fun among the passengers.
After tea, and when the moon was up, we was a good
deal interested in a courtship what was gwine on, between
a young cupple from New York. It seemed
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that two very rich familys was tryin very hard to make
a match between a Miss-Nancy sort of a son on one
side, and a Liddy-Languish sort of a daughter on the
other; but neither of the young ones seemed to have
sense enuff to know how to go about it. The old
peeple gin 'em all the chance they could, and helped
'em along now and then, but the young feller seemed
to think more of his sorrel-colored whiskers, what
grow'd all over his unmeanin face, than any thing else;
and the gall, though she didn't seem to have no grate
objections to the arrangement, wasn't willin, or didn't
know how to do all the courtin. The old peeple
managed to keep 'em together pretty well all day, only
when the young spark went down now and then to git
a jewlip; and, in the evenin the feller's daddy made
him go and sing to her; but sich singin I never heard
before—half a ower of it was enuff to kill any young
woman in the world. What effect it did have I can't
say, but he kep it up 'bout six owers, 'thout stoppin to
give the pore gall time to draw a long breth between
his bominable songs. Once or twice the ingine blowd
off the steam, when she couldn't hear his croakin, and
it must really been a grate relief to her. At one
o'clock we went to bed and left him singin the “Minit
gun at Sea,” to one of the awfulest sam tunes I ever
heard.
At six o'clock the next mornin we waked up at
Kingston, and as we had but a few minits to stop
before we tuck another bote to go down the Saint
Lawrence, we hurried up into the town to see it. We
had got most up to the grate stone Market House,
what's big enuff for five or six sich towns, when the
Stuard cum runnin after us to ask us if we hadn't left
a watch on the bote. Shore enuff it was Hooper's
gold watch the man had in his hand. When Hooper
offered him a dollar for bringin it to him, he wouldn't
take a cent, and away he went.
“Very well,” ses Hooper, “that watch is worth jest
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one hundred and fifty dollars more to me, than if it had
been left on a New York bote.”
After takin a look at the market-house, which is
more like a castle than a place to sell meat and vegetables,
and which I expect was intended as much for
one as the other, we started for the garrison, to see the
mornin parade of the sogers. When we got to the
gates the 71st rigment of Highland Light Infantry was
drillin in the square; but as we went to walk in to see
'em, a ugly-lookin customer, what was standin on gard
at the gate, brung his bayonet down within 'bout three
inches of my nose.
“Take care,” ses I, “Mister! what the thunder is
you about?”
He sort o' grinned, and didn't say nothin.
Then Hooper walked upon tother side, and he poked
his bayonet rite at him.
“Ain't thar no admission?” ses Hooper.
The feller shuck his hed.
“He must be dum,” ses Hooper.
“Or maybe he talks Highland, and can't understand
American,” ses I.
Jest then a chap with a red cap and sum extra buttons
on his cote, cum to the gate, and told us that
nobody wasn't allowed to cum in thar, and that we
musn't talk to the sentinel on the post; and the feller
with the bayonet begun to walk up and down agin as
stiff as a handspike, and lookin savage as a meat-axe.
By this time the ladys from the bote cum up, and 'fore
they know'd thar wasn't no admission, they marched
rite through the gate, and the gentlemen all follered
'em. The feller with the bayonet looked monstrous
sheepish, but even he couldn't charge bayonet on a
plattoon of butiful American galls, and was compelled
to surrender to charms such as he wasn't used to seein
in his own country.
In a few minits after we went in, the rigment was
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formed in line—the band struck up, and away they
marched over a bridge to the barracks on the other side
of the river. I couldn't help but think, as I heard the
cry of ther bag-pipes, and watched the sad countenances
and mechanical movement of them pore sogers,
what a sorry life ther's must be—away so far from ther
homes and relations—givin ther lives to support a
power that only tramples 'em under it's feet. But the
monarchical institutions that makes slaves of white
men, trains 'em to be contented in ther servile conditions,
and teaches 'em to glory in the shallow glitter
of a crown that is upheld by ther own sweat and
blood.
I would liked monstrous well to tuck a better look
at Kingston, but we had no time to spare. After takin
a short walk through one or two of the best streets,
we went aboard of the steambote Canady, and at
seven o'clock we was on our way down the Saint
Lawrence.
After passin Fort Henry, what looks a good deal
like Governor's Island at New York, we was soon
among the Thousand Islands, whar the waters of the
Saint Lawrence seems to git lost, and runs in evry
direction 'thout havin any shores at all. Sum of these
islands is monstrous pretty—the fact is ther's a general
assortment of 'em, of all shapes and sizes, and a man
would have to be terrible hard to please if he couldn't
find sum among 'em to suit his fancy. The water bein
scattered all about so, hain't got much current, and
runs still and deep, so the bote could pass close to ther
sides. One minit we would be sailin by one big enuff
for a plantation, and then agin we would be twisten
about among sum that wasn't bigger than so many
tater hills. Who ever counted 'em must had a good
deal of patience, but I reckon he wasn't far out of the
way. If ther's one ther's at least a thousand of 'em, I
do blieve.
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You remember it was among these islands whar
Commodore Bill Johnson sot up for himself durin the
Canady rebellion. Bill was a monstrous tall customer
in his way, and gin the British a heap of trouble,
robbin ther hen-roosts and pig-stys, and skeerin the
wimmin and children out of ther senses with his
Proclamations. They gin him sum terrible hard
chases, but they mought as well looked for a needle
in a shuck-pen, as to try to find him in sich a place,
and so Bill weathered 'em out, and never was cotched.
The Captain of the bote pinted out the place whar he
burnt the steambote Robert Peel, and robbed all the
passengers; but he sed that “Fort Wallace,” whar he
used to date his Proclamations, was like Billy Morgan—
nobody could tell what had cum of it.
After gettin out of the thickest of the Islands, we
cum to Brockville, whar the bote stopped for a few
minits, and then we passed Prescott's Landin, and the
captain pinted out sum old stone ruins what he sed
was the place whar the British sogers fit the wind-mill,
and tuck the patriots prisoners what they hung at Fort
Henry. None of these towns along here on the
Canady side ain't no grate shakes, and all of 'em
makes a monstrous bad contrast with the smart bisnesslookin
towns on the American side, showin plain enuff
that our institutions is best calculated to promote the
prosperity of the peeple.
It was a very butiful day, and the scenery as we
passed from Island to Island, and Lake to Lake, was
very butiful. Sumtimes we could almost reach the
branches of the cedar-trees from the deck of the bote,
then agin we was in the middle of Lake Howe, or sum
other lake whar we couldn't hardly see the shores.
Most of the passengers was delighted with the interestin
objects that presented themselves in rapid succession.
Jest before we got into the Rapids I happened
to notice that New York chap what was courtin the
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young lady—the river didn't have no curiosities for
him—and thar he sot on the bench by the side of the
pore gall, readin Shakspear to her, and actin it as he
went along, while she was sleepin with her mouth wide
open, and her green vale over her face to keep the flies
off. Pore creater, he had sung her almost to deth the
night before, and now he was recitin what little life she
had left out of her. The bominable fool didn't know
she was sleepin til she begun to snore pretty considerable
loud, and then he got up and shut up his book,
and went and tuck sumthing to drink. Thinks I, if
that's the way peeple courts in these parts, they'd stand
a monstrous pore chance of gettin a wife among the
Georgia galls.
Bimeby we cum to the Long Sow Rapids, as they
call 'em, and you may depend it don't take very much
steam to go down 'em. It made the har stand on my
hed to go whirlin eend for eend as we did down that
racin current, whar the water runs so swift that it makes
one's hed swim to look at it, and the bote jest takes
her hed and goes whar and how she pleases in spite of
all the paddle-wheels and rudder can do. Sumtimes,
when we cum to a short turn, we would cum in a ace
of runnin rite spang on the rock-shore, and the bote
would slew over to one side like it was gwine to spill
us all out, and the fust thing we would know while we
was all holdin our breth to keep from gettin drownded,
we would find ourselves gwine like a streak of lightnin,
starn fust, down the next stretch. It was monstrous
fine ridin, and the little boys and galls danced and
clapped ther hands with joy, but the grown peeple
wore monstrous long faces sumtimes, and opened ther
eyes tight; while the captain and the man at the wheel
had ther hands full to keep the bote off the rocks.
The captain sed it wouldn't been so bad if the wind
hadn't blowd so hard down the river.
After gettin through the Rapids, we had a little
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slower and safer travellin through Lake Saint Francis
to Cooto du Lack, whar we arriv a little after dark.
Here we was to take stages, sixteen miles, to the Cascades.
But they wasn't sich stages as we have in
Georgy, not by a long shot. They was sumthing
between a New York Omnibus and a Noa's Ark, and
would carry 'bout as many passengers as either of 'em.
Before the bote got to the landin the bell rung for the
number of coaches it would take to carry us, and by
the time we got on shore thar they all was, reddy to
start. I don't know how many of us, men, wimmin,
and children they stowed inside and on the top of
each one of 'em, but six coaches carried 'bout a
hundred of us, bag and baggage, without the least
difficulty.
Hooper, and me, and five or six more, tuck seats on
top, behind the drivers, so we could smoke our segars.
Pop went the whips, and in the next minit we was
rollin along over a plank rode, at the rate of six miles
a ower, as smooth as if we was in a ralerode car, and
a monstrous sight comfortabler. It was the delightfulest
travelin I ever had in my life. The plank rode
was as level and as clean as a barn floor, and the little
Canadian hosses trotted off with us, 'thout ever stoppin
or movin ther heds or tails out of the same position,
durin the whole drive, only when we stopped twice to
water. The scenery was butiful. On our right was
the broad Saint Lawrence, shinin like a sheet of silver
in the moonlight, while evry now and then we could
look down onto the roofs of the little vine-covered
cabins what was all along on both sides of the
road, with ther little narrow fields leadin back to the
woods and hills on the left, or the river on the right.
Now and then we would cum to a house bigger than
the rest, what had shade-trees and a big wooden
cross out before the dore, whar the priests lived.
But evrybody was gone to bad, and the little
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cottages themselves seemed to be sleepin in the calm
moonlight.
Three owers—what didn't seem longer than one
ower in a Georgia stage, whar the horses is wadin
nee-deep in the sand, and one don't hear the wheels
more'n once or twice in a mile, when they happen to
run over a pine root—brung us to the Cascades. After
shuckin out the passengers and baggage, and gettin all
the children and band-boxes gethered up, they tuck
us down a steep hill to the steambote, whar we went
to bed.
In the mornin, when we waked up, we found ourselves
in the butiful Lake Saint Louis, on our way to
La Chin. We got up in time to see sum of the butiful
islands—among 'em Nun's Island, what stands high
out of the water, and is covered with houses and little
plantations. On the highest part of the Nun's Island
is a monstrous big cross, what we could see a long
ways off, remindin us that we was in a Catholic country.
By seven o'clock we was at La Chin, whar we
tuck sum more stages over a good rode, eight miles, to
Montreal.
This is another butiful country. The rode runs all
the way through one continual string of cottages, what
stands close by the rode, with little plantations 'bout as
big as a good-sized Georgia turnip-patch, runnin down
to the river on one side, and back to the Green Mounting
of Montreal on the other. It was early in the
mornin, and the peeple was jest gwine to ther work;
and it was odd enuff to see the men with ther blue
frocks, and ther red caps stickin on one side of ther
heds, geerin up ther teams, and the pretty little
barefooted French galls, with ther short petticotes,
gwine to milk the cows. From the top of the stage
we could look rite down into the chamber winders,
and evry now and then I could see a pair of bright
eyes peepin out through the mornin-glorys and
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trumpetflowers at us. The whole eight miles was a panorama
of buty, and glad as I was to see Montreal, I would
liked it very well if the rode had been a little
longer.
But the wheels of our coach was soon rollin over
the wooden pavements of the city, and in a few minits
more we found ourselves all safe and sound at the
Exchange Hotel, with good appetites for our breckfusts.
So no more from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XXI.
New York, July 24, 1845.
[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]
To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—After brushin up a
little and gettin a fust rate breckfust, we tuck a stroll
through the town to see the curiosities. I could spend
a week very well in this city, lookin about among the
churches and nunneries and soger's quarters and other
public places, but as I didn't have no time to spare, I
had jest to give evry thing a passin glance, 'thout
stoppin long enuff to know much about it. Under sich
circumstances you musn't expect me to give you much
of a description of Montryal.
If I was travelin like Mr. Dickens or Captain Marryatt,
or any of them English travellers, jest to make a
book for a peeple who is so blinded with prejudice
that they can't see any thing but faults, it wouldn't
make no difference whether I know'd much about the
things I described or not; all I'd have to do would
jest be to go ahed and find all the fault I could with
evrybody, and with evry thing I heard of or seed
sot down in the gide-books; and the further I cum
from the truth, so I went on the black side of it,
the better I would please. But I ain't a writin for
no sich peeple, and I'm not gwine to find fault with
what I don't know nothin about, jest for the sake of
fault-findin.
The fust place we went to was the grate French
Cathedral in Notre Dame street, a regular Noah's Ark
of a meetin-house you may depend, what holds twenty
thousand peeple 'thout crowdin 'em, and takes two
hundred and eighty-five steps to go to the top of its
towers. Ther was a grate many picters and sum wax
figers in it, but ther names was all so outlandish that I
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couldn't make 'em out. After lookin about in the
church for awhile, we went to the Grey Nunnery.
Here we seed lots of nuns and sisters of charity takin
care of little children what had no fathers and mothers,
and of sich peeple what had no money and no frends
to do for 'em. Then we went to the Hotel Dieu, what
Maria Monk gives sich a terrible bad account of in her
book; then to the Bishop's Chapel, which is one of the
finest churches on the Continent; and then to the
Parlyment House, whar the Canady peeple make sich
laws as ther masters over the water don't care about
troublin themselves with. The bildin ain't no grate
shakes, compared to what sum of our state capitols is,
but it's rigged off in mighty fine style inside, with red
velvet and gold-leaf, to keep the peeple in mind of
what monstrous fine peeple ther Royal masters is. The
gentleman what show'd us in, pinted out the portraits
of sum of the kings and queens and other grate characters
what was hangin about, and ax'd us if we would
like to take a seat on the throne whar the representative
of British majesty sot on grate occasions. Rather
than to make him feel bad, when he was so perlite
and obligin to us, I tuck a seat for a minit, and I
couldn't help but think how I would like to give
the castin vote on a proposition to annex Canady to
the United States. Sich a measure of human
pation would be worth all the laws ever made in that
house.
From the Parlyment House we went to the barracks
whar the sogers was. Ther was a everlastin lot of
'em—in fact they was all over the city, and ther red
cotes and shinin bayonets was to be seen at evry corner,
in evry street and evry ally. They may be sed to
be the strikin feater of Canady—and one can't help but
wonder what upon yeath England can want of territory
what takes sich a terrible lot of money and sogers to
keep it. What a difference, too, ther is in the sogers'
trade in Canady and in our country. While our sogers
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is armed and fed to protect the peeple, their's is put
thar to subject the peeple who supports 'em. It's enuff
to make a man's blood bile, to see them swarms of
grate lazy hulks sunin themselves about on the pavements,
and loungin round ther quarters, waitin like
blood-hounds jest to be sot loose on the pore peeple,
to tear 'em to pieces for the bone that they git from the
table of ther masters. And the pore devils ain't very
well kept nuther, for I seed lots of 'em without the
sign of a pair of trouses to ther legs any more'n a
Seminole Ingin, and with nothin but a sort of red-plad
huntin shirt on, that jest cum down to ther nees.
In the afternoon we tuck a drive round the mounting
to see the guvernor's house, and at five o'clock in
the evenin tuck passage in the steambote Queen for
Quebeck. The scenery on the Saint Lawrence was
very butiful, and we sot up til twelve o'clock to see
Saint Peter's Lake. About seven o'clock the next
mornin we arriv at Quebeck, and druv to Payne's
Hotel in the Place de Armes.
The fust place I wanted to go to was the famous
Gibralter of America, the fortress of Quebeck; but
Mr. Payne sed we'd have to wait til he could git a
permit for us to visit the ; so we tuck a calash
and went out to the Plains of Abraham, whar the grate
battle was fit what lost France her Northern possesshuns
in America. I don't remember to what Saint the gate
we went out at belonged, but that doesn't matter—a
Frenchman tuck us to the Plains, whar we had a quiet
view of that place whar so much gallantry was displayed,
and so much blood spilled on the 14th of September,
1759. It's a butiful place to fight a battle, and
I can't see what ever possessed the brave Montealm,
with his undisciplined troops, to give Wolf and his
British regulars battle thar, when he mought have
defended himself so much better in his works, even
poor and weak as they was then. It was a hard piece
of bisness, that contest, in which France lost her
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General and her cause; and though the English may try til
dooms-day to make the French Canadians forgit the
injustice they have suffered, by givin ther Catholic
churches all sorts of priviliges, and by bildin monuments,
like they have in the Palace Gardin' with Wolf's
name on one side and Montrealm's on the other, tryin to
make the honors of that day easy between 'em,—they
never can make loyal, contented subjects out of 'em as
long as Cape Diamond stands whar it does. While
they're in the reach of British bayonets they don't make
any fuss, but rebellion is stickin out of 'em all over,
and the fust right good chance they git they'll give ther
conquerors plenty to do to keep 'em under. If anybody
wants any proof of ther bad feelins agin the
British, jest let 'em look at Wolf's Monument what
stands on the spot whar he fell. The words “here
died Wolf victorious,” that was cut deep in the
solid marble, is pecked and battered so, rite in sight
of the sentry on the walls of the citadel, that if it
wasn't for the gide-book nobody could tell what was
on it. Every countryman that crosses over the Plains
with a basket of eggs for the market, gives it a pelt
with a stone, til the whole side of the monument is
almost nocked off.
After dinner we got a permit to go in the citadel, but
they sent a sargeant with us, who watched us all the
time like he was 'fraid we was gwine to tetch off the
powder-magazine or spike ther cannons. We musn't go
here, and strangers wasn't 'lowd to go thar; and if we
went to go up on sum of ther batteries, as they called
'em, voices would cum from evry loop-hole and look-out,
to tell us we musn't go thar. They seemed to be dreadful
'fraid we'd find out sumthing. It's a monstrous stanchious
place, and commands one of the finest views in the
world. One looks down upon the noble Saint Lawrence
at his feet, and over the minerets and towers of
the churches, and the roofs of the old and curious-lookin
stone houses of the upper town, and on the other side,
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at the ruins of more'n a thousand houses in the Saint Rock
District, beyond which the butiful Saint Charles winds
its way to mingle its waters with the waters of the Saint
Lawrence in the grate basin below, after which they
flow away together til they find the sea. All together,
Quebeck is a curious and interestin place. It looks like
it belonged to another Continent and to another age of
the world; and when one looks upon its power and its
buty, and remembers that it stands on the boundry of
civilization, close to the edge of the wild, unexplored
wilderness that extends northward to the regions of
everlastin freeze-to-deth, he is apt to exclaim with the
poet—“Time's noblest empire is the last.”
Sum of the officers—who we found to be monstrous
clever fellers, though sum of 'em was dredful green—
invited us to see a grand review on the Esplanade. It
was a very considerable of a show, and convinced me
that the British sogers is under fust rate discipline; but
I couldn't help but think how terribly they would git
ther fethers siled in a Ingin campain in the hammocks
of Florida. We spent the evenin in walkin about
through the streets lookin at the public bildins and
odd-lookin houses.
The next day was Sunday, and we went to the
French Cathedral, what was so full that it was sum
time before we could git through the crowd of men
and wimmin that was settin on the steps and away out
in the street, stringin beads and talkin Lattin to themselves.
Bimeby a man cum and tuck us into a fust
rate seat, whar we could see and hear all that was
gwine on. Ther was any number of priests dressed
out in red, white, and black pettycotes, and lots of
organ-musick, singin and preachin; but the only word
I understood the whole time was “Kebeck, Kebeck,”
which run all through the sermon.
About five o'clock we tuck passage in the Queen
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agin for Montryal, whar we arriv the next mornin about
breckfust time. As no bote didn't leave til evenin, we
tuck another round through Montryal, and spent the
time very agreeably til five in the evenin, when we
started in the Prince Albert for La Prairy, on our way
home.
The steambote Prince Albert ain't no compliment to
the Queen's husband; and if his highness's popilarity
in Canady is to be estimated by the quality of the bote
they have named after him, one would suppose that he
didn't stand very high among the loyal Canadians. It
ain't much bigger than a New York ferry-bote, and its
accommodations is but little better. Ther was a good
many passengers, most of 'em Irish emmygrants what
had cum to Canady, and was now cumin over into the
States. Pore peeple, they was all huddled up together,
bag and baggage, on the forecastle, and wasn't 'lowed
to take the air on the deck no more'n if they'd been so
many cattle. My hart aked for one pore family. The
man was dyin with the ship-fever, while his wife and
children and young sister, a butiful girl about sixteen,
was weepin over him. He lay on the deck on a coarse,
dirty mattrass, his pore wife supportin him while the
tears poured down her pale cheeks, and his dyin hed
was rocked to its last sleep on her heavin bosom. His
sister was neelin by his side and bathin his parched lips
with water mingled with her tears, and the two oldest
children, little girls, was clingin round him, cryin as if
ther harts would brake. The youngest child, a fat little
boy 'bout two years old, with cheeks as red as the apple
he had in his hand, looked at his dyin father and then
at his mother, as if he spected sumthing was the matter;
but the pore little feller was a stranger to the bitter sorrow
that was agonizin the harts of that mournin group.
The emmygrants made as much room round the dyin
man as they could, to give him air, and sum of 'em
tried to console the family. The sister tuck the cross
what she wore round her neck, and put it to her brother's
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lips—he kissed it and tried to speak, and then closed
his eyes. In a minit after I seed him gaspin for breth,
and a loud scream from the wimmin told that he was ded.
The peeple laid him strait in the bed, whar he remained
til the bote arriv at La Parairy.
“It was hard,” sed one of the emmygrants as they
was leavin the bote, “that pore Dennis should die widout
ever puttin his fut in Amirica.”
“Ah!” ses another, “he's gone to a better place,
rest his soul!”
At La Parairy we tuck the cars for St. John's, leavin
the pore wife to berry her ded husband in a strange
land; but I couldn't go til I had gin her a dollar to help
her in her ower of distress. The look she gin me was
more than a recompense for all the good actions I ever
done in my life.
The steambote Saranack tuck us through Lake
Champlain, whar we seed sum of the finest scenery
and interestin places, among the rest the ruins of old
Fort Ticonderogy what Ethen Allen tuck from the
British by sich high authority in the Revolutionary war.
Durin the day we stopped to git sum wood at a place
called Burlington, in Vermont, and Hooper and me
went ashore to look at the place. But we hadn't got
more'n ten steps from the bote when we seed a thunderin
grate big sign stickin up over the rode, with “No
Smokin allowd here!” “Cus the place,” ses Hooper,
who had a segar in his mouth, “Majer, let's shake the
dust from our feet and go back to the bote; I can't
trust myself in the hands of no peeple what would
stick up sich a sign as that at a steambote landin,”—
and back we went.
After gwine aboard, the fust thing that tuck my attention
was a chap what was rootin round among the baggage
after sumthing. I didn't like his looks much, so I
jest kep my eye on him to see what the feller was after.
Bimeby I seed him grab hold of my trunk. Thinks I
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that's makin rayther too free, and ses I—“What upon
yeath is you up to, Mister, with my trunk?”
“Is that your trunk?” ses he.
“Well,” ses I, “I reckon it ain't nobody elses.”
“Very well,” ses he; “I jest wanted to know what
was in it, that's all.”
“The mischief you do!” ses I; “I'd like to know
what bisness you've got with what's in my trunk.”
“I spose ther ain't nothin contraband in it,” ses he.
“What the thunder's that?” ses I.
“Why, nothin smuggled.”
Smugglin means stealin, down in Georgia, and when
he sed that my dander was up in a minit. I looked at
the feller what was beginnin to grin all over his face,
and ses I—
“Do you mean to insiniwate the likes of that to me,
you infernal, imperent cus?”
“Cum, cum, Mister,” ses he, “it ain't no use to git
into no passion. The law's the law, and ther ain't no
use tryin to git round it.”
“I'll tell you what,” ses I, “I don't know nothin
about your law out in these parts; but I know one thing,
and that is, if you jest insiniwate to me that I'm a thief,
or that I've got any thing what don't belong to me in
my trunk, I'll histe you overboard off this bote 'fore
you can have time to say yer prayers.”
And I was jest gettin reddy to pitch into the oudacious
cus, when Hooper cum up and tuck hold of me—
“Shaw, Majer,” ses he, “don't git riled—it's the
custom —”
“Cus ther customs,” ses I; “I know it's a Yankee
custom to meddle with evrybody's bisness but ther own.
But I'll larn 'em better than to interfere with my
consarns.”
“It's the custom-house officer, I mean,” ses Hooper,
“what wants to see all right with the baggage, to keep
peeple from cheatin the government. It's only the
tariff bisness what you whigs voted for at the last
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election. It's protection, Majer; and I'm sure you're too
good a whig to make a rumpus about it.”
By this time I begun to see into the bisness, and of
course I hadn't nothin more to say. But you may depend
I was hot for a few minits; and what made it
worse, the custom-house officer, as he called himself, kep
all the time laughin at me like he would bust his sides.
We shuck hands, however, and made evry thing strait.
He didn't open my trunk when I told him that it didn't
have nothin in it but my clothes, and sum curiosities
what I'd picked up in my travels; but you may depend,
whenever he cum across a Dutchman or any outlandish
foreigner with a big trunk, he made 'em show up.
And, shore enuff, he cum across one feller what had a
trunk full of English broadcloths and silks, what he was
tryin to smuggle into the States. The officer tuck 'em
all from him, and how they settled it I don't know; but
the feller was quite as much out of humour with the
officer as I was.
After runnin Lake Champlain out to the little eend
of nothin, til ther wasn't water enuff to float a bread-tray,
and we had to dodge the boat along among the
hay-cocks that the peeple was makin in the marsh-meadow
what we was gwine through, we cum to a
place called White Hall, about four o'clock in the
evenin. Here we tuck a canal-bote for Mechanicsville.
In the fore part of the evenin, while we was all on
deck, evry thing went on pretty well, except 'bout evry
five minits we would cum to a bridge, when we would
all have to drap down flat on the deck; and bein as it
was covered with men, wimmin, and children, as thick as
we could stand, the dodgin was rather awkward bisness,
and brung us sumtimes in rather close contact with
strange passengers.
One old feller what was a little hard of hearin, and
was bissy talkin politicks with his back turned the rong
way, didn't hear the word “Bridge!” and the fust
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thing he knowd, kerslosh he went heels over hed, rite
into the water. It was monstrous well for him that it
wasn't no deeper, or he'd never had another vote in
this world—for he couldn't swim a lick, and the hoses
was so pore and hard in the mouth that it tuck 'em
'bout ten minits to take in sail, so as to stop the bote.
The captain got him out though, and the old chap went
below for the balance of the night.
They packed us into hammocks, as they called 'em,
to sleep—but I'd been monstrous glad to exchanged
mine for the worst hammock in Florida. It was nothin
more than a layer of canvass, then a passenger, then a
layer of dirty sheet, then another layer of canvass,
and then another layer of passenger and another sheet,
and so on to the top. Ther was no sich thing as turnin
over 'thout nockin yer nees into the ribs of the man
above you, and when you was once packed in, ther
was no gettin out til mornin. I never cum so near
suffocatin in my life, and never was so anxious to see
the break of day before. The wimmin and children
was all packed into one eend of the bote, with nothin
but a blanket between us and them; and sich other
musick I never heard before—it was worse than a concert
of cats all night.
'Bout sunrise we got to the place whar we tuck the
cars for Troy. Here we tuck a steamer to Albany, and
from Albany we wasn't long cumin to New York in the
Knickerbocker.
So here I am, and by the time you hear from me
agin I will be home in old Georgia. No more at present
from
Your frend til deth,
Jos. Jones.
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LETTER XXII.
Pineville, August 6, 1845.
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To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—Once more I take
my pen to tell you that I arriv here safe and sound last
Friday night. Nothin didn't happen in the jurney from
New York to Pineville out of the usual course of travellin
incidents, and to tell the truth, after I sot my face
for home, nothin of a common nater—nothin short of a
terrible railrode collision or the bustin of a steambote
biler could tuck my mind off from thinkin of the joys
that was waitin me at home.
Pore Mary couldn't hardly contain herself for joy, at
seein me once more; and old Miss Stallins had to have
a fit of the highstericks, jest to show how glad she was.
The galls all tuck on monstrous, and 'tween bringin the
old woman to, and kissin the baby and Mary, and
shakin hands with the niggers and nabors, and tellin
evrybody 'bout my travels, I hain't had time to do
nothin else ever sense I cum home.
Nothin of importance hain't tuck place on the plantation
sense I left, only the deth of pore old Moma. She
died 'bout three weeks ago, leavin her dyin blessin for
me. Pore old creter, she was very sorry she couldn't
see me before she died. Well, she's out of her troubles
now, and I have the satisfaction to know that she never
was treated bad, and never suffered for any thing while
she lived; and as sumthing bad always has to happen
when a body's away from home, I spose I ought to be
satisfied that it's no worse than it is. I'm certain that
no one on the plantation was better prepared or more
willin to go than good old Moma, and no one could
been so well spared by us all.
The crap looks fust rate, and the stock is all in good
order, and evry thing looks like good attention had
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been paid to it by the overseer, who ses he hain't got
no complaints to make agin none of the niggers except
old Saul, what sot the woods afire in one of his possumhunts,
and burnt 'bout twenty panels of fence. Old
Saul always was the most bominable possum-hunter and
fish-trapper I ever seed in my life; but he's too old to
quarrel with him now, and besides, he's a monstrous
good old feller. Sum of the little niggers has been
cuttin up sum antics, and had to have a little buckin to
keep 'em from spilin 'fore I cum home. But on the
whole things has gone on much better than I expected,
and I've made a proclamation of a general pardon for
all offences, and gin 'em all the presents what I bought
for 'em in New York.
If you could see Prissy with her New York riggins
on, you would think she was the proudest nigger in
Georgia. She don't want to do nothin now but go to
church and take the baby out a visitin the nabors.
Little Henry Clay's grow'd a heap and can begin to
talk rite smart, and with his new-fashioned Knickerbocker
cote on, and his red velvet cap with a gold
tossel on it, what I brung from New York for him, he
is the cuninest-lookin little feller you ever did see.
The galls is all tickeled to deth with ther new-fashioned
brestpins, and Mary likes her dresses fust
rate, only she ses they are too expensive, and won't
do to wear until next winter. Pore gall, she ses she
never did think she loved me so much til I was away
from her, and she ses she wouldn't let me go agin not
for all the world. Would you blieve it, Mr. Thompson,
she fell away more'n ten pounds while I was gone,
jest grievin about me. Her mother ses she never did see
anybody take on so, specially when she red in the papers
'bout any railrode accidents or steambote explosions.
Well, it's all over now, and I don't think we will
ever be separated agin. Give me home after all. I've
travelled more'n four thousand miles—I've seed sum
fourteen states, and more'n five hundred cities and
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towns—I've seed the northern peeple, in ther cities, in
ther towns and in the country, and though I've got a
good deal better opinion of 'em sense I've been among
'em a little, than I had afore, still I say, give me old
Georgia yet. We hain't got so many cities, nor sich
fine ones—we hain't got so much public improvements
and all them sort o' things—but we've got a plenty of
evry thing that is necessary to make us independent and
happy. We've got as fine a soil, a finer climate, as
smart men, and handsumer wimmin than any other
country in the world, and nothin can hinder us from
bein one of the greatest states in the Union, if we go to
work as we ought to, and develop our own resources.
I blieve a jurney to the North is calculated to do a
southern man a grate deal of good, if he goes thar in
the rite sperit and for the rite purpose. He will see
thar a grate deal to be proud of as a American, and
much to be ashamed of as a white man. He will find
all sorts of peeple thar—sum that is examples of patriotism,
intelligence, and enterprise, and sum that ain't no
manner of account on the face of the yeath, only to kick
up a eternal rumpus and keep the world in a everlastin
stew about ther new-fangled fooleries; and though, as
a peeple the Northerners is very different from us in a
grate many things, the majority of 'em is actuated by
the same impulses, and is strivin on for wealth and
power like all the rest of the world. Ther's a good
deal of ignorance and prejudice at the North, to be
shore, specially about matters what don't consarn ther
own interests; but it is to be hoped that whar ther is
so much patriotism and intelligence, they will sum day
larn to mind ther own bisness, and leave other peeple's
consarns to be regulated by ther own consciences and
ther own judgments. Hopin that we may both live to
see that day, I sign myself
Your frend til deth, Jos. Jones.
THE END.
Back matter
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Thompson, William Tappan, 1812-1882 [1848], Major Jones's sketches of travel, comprising the scenes, incidents, and adventures in his tour from Georgia to Canada (Carey & Hart, Philadelphia) [word count] [eaf395].
