The Book Of The Bush by George Dunderdale (books to read to improve english .TXT) 📕

He Then Hurried Away And Ran Upstairs To The Saloon.

Jack Followed To The Foot Of The Ladder,  And One Wild-Eyed Young Lady Said:

"Look At The Englishman [He Was Sitting On A Chair A Few Feet

Distance].  Ain't He Pale?  Oh! The Coward!"

She Wanted To Witness A Real Lively Fight,  And Was Disappointed.  The

Smell Of Blood Seems Grateful To The Nostrils Of Both Ladies And

Gentlemen In The States.  A Butcher From St. Louis Explained It Thus:

"It's In The Liver.  Nine Out Of Ten Of The Beasts I Kill Have Liver

Complaint.  I Am Morally Sartin I'd Find The Human Livers Just The

Same If I Examined Them In Any Considerable Quantity."

The Captain Came To The Head Of The Stairs And Descended To The Deck.

He Was Tall And Lanky And Mild Of Speech.  He Said:

"Now,  Jack,  What Are You Going To Do With That Knife?"

"I Am Waiting To Cut The Liver Out Of That Englishman.  Send Him

Down,  Captain,  Till I Finish The Job."

"Yes,  I See.  He Has Been Peeling Your Neck Pretty Bad,  Ain't He?

Powerful Claws,  I Reckon.  Jack,  You'll Be Getting Into Trouble Some

Day With Your Weepons."  He Took A Small Knife Out Of His Pocket.

"Look Here,  Jack.  I've Been Going Up And Down The River More'n

Twenty Years,  And Never Carried A Weepon Bigg'n That,  And Never Had A

Muss With Nobody.  A Man Who Draws His Bowie Sometimes Gets Shot.

Let's Look At Your Knife."

He Examined It Closely,  Deciphered The Brand,  Drew His Thumb Over The

Edge,  And Observed:

"Why,  Blame Me,  If It Ain't One Of Them British Bowies--A

Free-Trade Brummagen. I Reckon You Can't Carve Anyone With A Thing

Like This."  He Made A Dig At The Hand-Rail With The Point,  And It

Actually Curled Up Like The Ring In A Hog's Snout.  "You See,  Jack,  A

Knife Like That Is Mean,  Unbecoming A Gentleman,  And A Disgrace To A

Respectable Boat."  He Pitched The British Article Into The River And

Went Up Into The Saloon.

As Jack Had Not Yet Recovered His Prestige,  He Went Away,  And

Returned With A Dinner Knife In One Hand And A Shingling Hammer In

The Other.  He Waited For His Adversary Until The Sun Was Low And The

Deck Passengers Were Preparing Their Evening Meal.  Two Of The

Englishmen Came Along Towards The Stairs And Ascended To The Saloon.

Presently They Began To Descend With Their Mate In The Middle.  Jack

Looked At Them,  And For Some Reason Or Other He Did Not Want Any More

Prestige.  He Sauntered Away Along The Guard Deck,  And Remained In

Retirement During The Rest Of The Voyage.  He Was Not,  After All,  A

Very Desperate Desperado.

During The Next Night Our Boat Was Racing With A Rival Craft,  And One

Of Her Engines Was Damaged.  She Had Then To Hop On One Leg,  As It

Were,  As Far As Peoria.  The Illinois River Had Here Spread Out Into

A Broad Lake; The Bank Was Low,  There Were No Buildings Of Any Kind

Near The Water; Some Of The Passengers Landed,  And Nobody Came To

Offer Them Welcome.

I Stood Near An English Immigrant Who Had Just Brought His Luggage

Ashore,  And Was Sitting On It With His Wife And Three Children.  They

Looked Around At The Low Land And Wide Water,  And Became Full Of

Misery.  The Wife Said:

"What Are We Boun' To Do Now,  Samiul?  Wheer Are Me And The Childer

To Go In This Miserable Lookin' Place?"

Samiul:  "I'm Sure,  Betsy,  I Don't Know.  I've Nobbut Hafe A Dollar

Left Of O' My Money.  They Said Peoria Was A Good Place For Us To

Stop At,  But I Don't See Any Signs O' Farmin' About Here,  And If I Go

Away To Look For A Job,  Where Am I To Put Thee And The Childer,  And

The Luggage And The Bedding?"

"Oh!" Said Betsy,  Beginning To Cry; "I'm Sorry We Ever Left Owd

England.  But Thou Would Come,  Samiul,  Thou Knows,  And This Is The

End On It.  Here We Are In This Wild Country Without House Or Home,

And Wi' Nothin' To Eat.  I Allus Thowt Tha Wor A Fool,  Samiul,  And

Now I'm Sure And Sartin On It."

Samiul Could Not Deny It. His Spirit Was Completely Broken; He Hung

Down His Head,  And Tears Began To Trickle Down His Eyes.  The Three

Children--Two Sturdy Little Boys And A Fair-Haired Little Girl--

Seeing Their Dad And Ma Shedding Tears,  Thought The Whole World Must

Be Coming To An End,  And They Began Howling Out Aloud Without Any

Reserve.  It Was The Best Thing They Could Have Done,  As It Called

Public Attention To Their Misery,  And Drew A Crowd Around Them.  A

Tall Stranger Came Near Looked At The Group,  And Said:

"My Good Man,  What In Thunder Are You Crying For?"

"I Was Told Peoria Was A Good Place For Farmin'," Samuel Said,  "And

Now I Don't Know Where To Go,  And I Have Got No Money."

"Well,  You Are A Soft 'Un,"  Replied The Stranger.  "Just Dry Up And

Wait Here Till I Come Back."

He Walked Away With Long Strides.  Peoria Was Then A Dreary-Looking

City,  Of Which We Could See Nothing But The End Of A Broad Road,  A

Few Frame Buildings,  Two Or Three Waggons,  And Some Horses Hitched To

The Posts Of The Piazzas.

The Stranger Soon Returned With A Farmer In A Waggon Drawn By Two

Fine Upstanding Horses,  Fit For A Royal Carriage.  The Farmer At Once

Hired The Immigrant At Ten Dollars A Month With Board For Himself And

Family.  He Put The Luggage Into His Waggon,  Patted The Boys On The

Head And Told Them To Be Men; Kissed The Little Girl As He Lifted Her

Into The Waggon,  And Said:

"Now,  Sissy,  You Are A Nice Little Lady,  And You Are To Come Along

With Me,  And We'll Be Good Friends."

Never Was Sorrow So Quickly Turned Into Joy.  The Man,  His Wife,  And

Children,  Actually Began Smiling Before The Tears On Their Cheeks

Were Dry.

Men On Every Western Prairie Were Preparing Their Waggons For The

Great Rush To California; New Hands Were Wanted On The Lands,  And The

Immigrants Who Were Then Arriving In Thousands,  Took The Place Of The

Other Thousands Who Went Westward Across The Plains.  There Was

Employment For Everybody,  And During My Three Years' Residence On The

Prairies I Only Saw One Beggar.  He Was An Italian Patriot,  Who Said

He Had Fought For Italy; He Was Now Begging For It In English,

Badly-Broken,  So I Said:

"You Are A Strong,  Healthy Man; Why Don't You Go To Work?  You Could

Earn Eight Or UL OF

ITS FORMER DIGNITIES, HAD NOW SPENT NEARLY EIGHTEEN NOT UNCOMFORTABLE

YEARS. SUCH A REMARKABLE PIECE OF FURNITURE, SO EVIDENTLY A RELIC OF

LONG-DEPARTED TIMES, COULD NOT ESCAPE THE NOTICE OF SAMUEL ADAMS. HE MADE

MINUTE RESEARCHES INTO ITS HISTORY, AND ASCERTAINED WHAT A SUCCESSION OF

EXCELLENT AND FAMOUS PEOPLE HAD OCCUPIED IT."

"HOW DID HE FIND IT OUT?" ASKED CHARLEY. "FOR I SUPPOSE THE CHAIR COULD

NOT TELL ITS OWN HISTORY."

"THERE USED TO BE A VAST COLLECTION OF ANCIENT LETTERS AND OTHER

DOCUMENTS, IN THE TOWER OF THE OLD SOUTH CHURCH," ANSWERED GRANDFATHER.

"PERHAPS THE HISTORY OF OUR CHAIR WAS CONTAINED AMONG THESE. AT ALL

EVENTS, SAMUEL ADAMS APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN WELL ACQUAINTED WITH IT. WHEN HE

BECAME GOVERNOR, HE FELT THAT HE COULD HAVE NO MORE HONORABLE SEAT, THAN

THAT WHICH HAD BEEN THE ANCIENT CHAIR OF STATE. HE THEREFORE PURCHASED IT

FOR A TRIFLE, AND FILLED IT WORTHILY FOR THREE YEARS, AS GOVERNOR OF

MASSACHUSETTS."

"AND WHAT NEXT?" ASKED CHARLEY.

"THAT IS ALL," SAID GRANDFATHER, HEAVING A SIGH; FOR HE COULD NOT HELP

BEING A LITTLE SAD, AT THE THOUGHT THAT HIS STORIES MUST CLOSE HERE.

"SAMUEL ADAMS DIED IN 1803, AT THE AGE OF ABOVE THREESCORE AND TEN. HE WAS

A GREAT PATRIOT BUT A POOR MAN. AT HIS DEATH, HE LEFT SCARCELY PROPERTY

ENOUGH TO PAY THE EXPENSES OF HIS FUNERAL. THIS PRECIOUS CHAIR, AMONG HIS

OTHER EFFECTS, WAS SOLD AT AUCTION; AND YOUR GRANDFATHER, WHO WAS THEN IN

THE STRENGTH OF HIS YEARS, BECAME THE PURCHASER."

LAURENCE, WITH A MIND FULL OF THOUGHTS, THAT STRUGGLED FOR EXPRESSION, BUT

COULD FIND NONE, LOOKED STEADFASTLY AT THE CHAIR.

HE HAD NOW LEARNED ALL ITS HISTORY, YET WAS NOT SATISFIED.

"OH, HOW I WISH THAT THE CHAIR COULD SPEAK!" CRIED HE. "AFTER ITS LONG

INTERCOURSE WITH MANKIND AFTER LOOKING UPON THE WORLD FOR AGES WHAT

LESSONS OF GOLDEN WISDOM IT MIGHT UTTER! IT MIGHT TEACH A PRIVATE PERSON

HOW TO LEAD A GOOD AND HAPPY LIFE OR A STATESMAN HOW TO MAKE HIS COUNTRY

PROSPEROUS!"

CHAPTER XI

GRANDFATHER WAS STRUCK BY LAURENCE SIet On The Canal Boat My Nearest Friend,  From

Whom I Had Borrowed The Seven Dollars,  Kindly Gave Me His Views On

The Subject Of "Greenhorns."  (The Australian Equivalent Of

"Greenhorn" Is "New Chum."  I Had The Advantage Of Serving My Time In

Both Capacities).  "No Greenhorn," He Observed,  "Ever Begins To Get

Along In The States Until He Has Parted With His Bottom Dollar.  That

Puts A Keen Edge On His Mind,  And He Grows Smart In Business.  A

Smart Man Don't Strain His Back With Hard Work For Any Considerable

Time.  He Takes Out A Patent For Something--A Mowing Machine,  Or

One For Sowing Corn And Pumpkins,  A New Churn Or Wash-Tub,  Pills For

The Shakes,  Or,  Best Of All,  A New Religion--Anything,  In Fact,

That Will Catch On And Fetch