The Humors of Falconbridge Part 44

"Here, _boy_, clean my boots!" said an officer to him. But the bright defiant eye of the boy smote the captor with a look, and as he curled his firm lips in scorn, he answered,

"No, sir, I will _not!_"

"You won't? I'll tie you, you young saucy rebel, to your post, and skin your back with a horse whip, if you do not clean my boots."

"Do it," said the lion-hearted boy--"for I'll not stoop to clean the boots of your master!"

The infuriated ruffian drew his sword, and to defend his head from the blow, Andrew threw up his little hand and received a gash--the scar of which went with him to the tomb at the Hermitage. A Captain Walker, of South Carolina, with a dozen or twenty men, during the imprisonment of Andrew Jackson, made a desperate charge upon a company of the British, near Camden, and captured thirteen of them; these prisoners he exchanged for seven of his countrymen, including the boy Andrew Jackson, prisoners of the enemy. Andrew hurried home--his poor old mother was upon her death bed, attended by an old negro nurse of the Jackson family, and suffering not only from the great mult.i.tude of grief consequent upon the death of her heroic sons, but for want of the common necessaries of life, the invaders having stripped the widow of her last pound of provisions. The life-spark rekindled in the eye of the mother, as she beheld her darling boy safe at her bedside--she grasped his hand with the firmness of a dying woman, and turning her eyes upon the now weeping boy, said,

"Andrew, I leave you,--son, you will soon be alone in the world; be faithful, be true to G.o.d and your country--that--when--the--hour of death approaches you--will have--nothing to--dread--every thing--to hope for."

Andrew was taken ill after the burial of his mother, and but for the constant and tender care of the old black nurse--the last of the Jackson family--would have then pa.s.sed away; he recovered--he was alone--not a relative in the world; poor, and in a land ravaged by a foreign foe, could a boy be more desolate and lonely? With a few "effects" thrown upon his shoulders, he went to North Carolina, Salisbury, where he entered the office of a famed lawyer--Spruce M'Cay--was admitted to the bar in 1778--went to Tennessee--served as a soldier in the Indian wars of 1783--chosen a Senator 1797--Major General in 1801--whipped the British in the most conclusive manner at New Orleans in 1815, and triumphantly elected President of the United States for eight years in 1829. Andrew Jackson followed his mother's advice, and he not only triumphed over his hard fortune, but died a Christian, full of hope, in 1845.

Snaking out Sturgeons.

We have roared until our ribs fairly ached, at the relation of the following "item" on sturgeons, by a loquacious friend of ours:--

It appears our friend was located on the Kennebec river, a few years ago, and had a number of hands employed about a dam, and the sturgeons were very numerous and extremely docile. They would frequently come poking their noses close up to the men standing in the water, and one of the men bethought him how delicious a morsel of pickled sturgeon was, and he forthwith made a preparation to "snake out" a clever-sized fish.

Getting an iron rod at the blacksmith's shop, close at hand, he bends up one end like a fish hook, and, slipping out into the stream, he slily places the hook under the sturgeon's nose and into its round hole of a mouth, expecting to fasten on to the victimized, harmless fish, and "yank" him clean and clear out of his watery element. But, "lordy,"

wasn't he mistaken and surprised! The moment the hook touched the inside of the sturgeon's mouth, the creature backed water so sudden and forcibly as to near jerk the holder of the hook's head from its socket.

The poor fellow was forty rods under water, and going down stream, before he mustered presence of mind enough to induce him to let go the hook!

However, the lookers-on of this curious man[oe]uvre took a boat and fished out their half-drowned comrade, who concluded that he had paid pretty dearly for his whistle.

The sturgeon-catching did not end here. After the laugh of the above-mentioned adventure had ceased, some one offered to bet a hat that he could hold a sturgeon and snake him clean out of the water; and as the man who _had_ tried the experiment felt altogether dubious about it, he at once bet that the sturgeon would be more than a match for any man in the crowd.

The wager was duly staked, a rod crooked, the operator tucked up his sleeves and trowsers, and wades out to where a sturgeon or two were lying off in the shallow water. Of course the operation now became a matter of considerable interest; and as the man was a stout, hearty fellow, able to hold a bull by the horns, few entertained doubts of his bringing out _his_ sturgeon.

After a long time the operator gets his hook under the sturgeon, and leans forward to stick it close into the jaws of the victim; and no sooner was that part of the feat accomplished, than Mr. Sturgeon "backs out" with the velocity of chain lightning, carrying his a.s.sailant under water and down stream! The man held on; and there they went, foaming and pitching, until the fellow, finding his breath nearly out of his body; his neck, arms, and legs just about dislocated, concluded to lose the hat and let the hook and sturgeon go!

Pretty well used up, the poor fellow succeeded in getting out of the river, a convert to the first experimental idea of the strength and velocity of fish, especially a big sturgeon.

Beginning to imagine that fish could swim, or had some muscular power, several of the bystanders were rife for experimenting on the sturgeons.

Another iron rod was converted into a hook, and two burly-built Paddys volunteered to hook the fish. An opportunity was not long waited for, ere a jolly good elastic nosed genus sturgeon came smelling up close to where the Paddys had posted themselves upon some moss-covered, slippery stones, and with a sudden spasmodic effort, the man with the hook planted it firmly into the suction hole of the fish, while his companion held on to a rope fast to the hook. Before Pat could say Jack Robinson, of course he was jerked off his feet, and, letting go the iron, the other Paddy and the sturgeon set sail, having all the fun to themselves!

This proved, or very nearly so, a serious _denouement_ to the sturgeon-catching by hand, for Paddy was carried clean and clear off soundings, and so repeatedly immersed in deep water, that his life was within an ace of being wet out of his body. The rope parted at last (poor Pat never thought of letting go his "hould"), and being dipped out of the liquid element and rolled over a barrel until his insides were emptied of the water, and heat restored through the influence of whiskey, he recovered, and further experimenting on sturgeons, that season, in the Kennebec, ceased.

Mixing Meanings--Mangling English.

There is an individual in Quincy Market, "doing business," who is down on customers who don't speak proper.

"What's eggs, this morning?" says a customer.

"_Eggs_, of course," says the dealer.

"I mean--how do they _go_?"

"Go?--where?"

"Sho--!" says the customer, getting up his _fury_, "what for eggs?"

"Money, money, sir! or good endorsed credit!" says the dealer.

"Don't you understand the English language, sir?" says the customer.

"Not as you mix it and mangle it; I don't!" responded the egg merchant.

"What--is--the--price--per--dozen--for--your--eggs?"

"Ah! now you talk," says the dealer. "Sixteen cents per dozen, is the price, sir!" They traded!

Waking up the Wrong Pa.s.senger.

In "comparing notes" with a travelled friend, I glean from his stock of information, gathered South-west, a few incidents in the life of a somewhat extensively famed Boston panoramic artist--one of which incidents, at least, is worth rehearsing. Some years ago, the South-west was beset by an organized coalition of desperadoes, whose daring outrages kept travellers and the dwellers in the Mississippi valley in continual fear and anxiety. "Running n.i.g.g.e.rs" was one of the most popular and profitable branches of the business pursuits of these gentlemen freebooters, and, next to horse-stealing, was the most practised.

At length, the citizens "measured swords" with the freebooters, or land pirates, more properly; forming themselves into committees, the citizens opened _Court_ and practised Judge Lynch's _code_ upon a mult.i.tude of just occasions. At the time of which we write, Mill's Point, on the Mississippi, was no great shakes of a _town_, but a spot where a very considerable amount of whiskey was drank, and a corresponding quant.i.ty of crime and desperate doings were enacted; indeed, some of the worst scenes in Southern Kentucky's tragic dramas were performed there. It so fell out, that some of the land pirates had been actively engaged in levying upon the negroes and mules around Mill's Point, and the protective committee were on the alert to capture and administer the law upon these fellows. It was discovered, one evening, as the shades of a black and rather tempestuous night were closing upon the mighty "father of waters" and his ancient banks, that a mysterious _voyageur_, or sort of piratical _vidette_, was seen in his light canoe, hugging the sh.o.r.e, either for shelter or some insidious purpose.

The canoe and its navigator were diligently watched; but the coming storm and darkness soon closed observation, and the parties noticing the transaction hurried forward to the _Point_, and announced one or more of the land pirates in the neighborhood! Of course, the town--of some four houses, six "groceries," a _store_ and blacksmithery--was aroused, indignant! Impatient for a victim, the _posse comitatus_ "fired up,"

armed to the teeth with pistol, bludgeon, blunderbuss, gun, bowie-knife, and--whiskey, started up the river to reconnoitre and intercept the pirate and his crew.

Each nook and corner along sh.o.r.e, for some three miles, was carefully--as much so as the darkness would admit--scoured. The Storm-King rode by, the stars again twinkled in the azure-arched heavens, and soon, too, the bright silver moon beamed forth, and suddenly one of the vigilant committee espies the land-pirate and his canoe noiselessly floating down the rapid stream! No time was to be lost; the committee man, rather pleased with the fact of his being the first to make the discovery, apprised a comrade, and the two hurried back to the Point, to get a canoe and start out to capture the enemy.

The canoe was obtained, three courageous men, armed to the teeth, as the saying goes, paddled off, and indeed they had not far to paddle, for right ahead they saw the mysterious canoe of the enemy! Where was the pirate? Asleep! Lying down in his frail vessel; either asleep, or "playing possum." At all events, the Mills-Pointers gave the enemy but a brief period to sleep or act; for, das.h.i.+ng alongside, a brawny arm seized the victim in the strange canoe by the breast and throat, with such a rush and fierceness that both canoes were upon the apex of "swamping."

"Don't move! Don't budge an inch, or you're a case for eels, you thief!"

"Make catfish bait of him at once!" yelled the second.

"Don't move," cried the third, "don't move, you possum, or you're giblets, instanter!"

But these injunctions scarcely seemed necessary, for, even had the captive been so inclined, he neither possessed the power nor opportunity to move a limb.

"Haul him out," cried one.

"Yes, lug him into our boat," said another; "so now, you skunk, lay still; don't open your trap, or I'll brain you on sight!"