sketches new and old-第7章

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　　　　　poorhouse　more。　　The　idea　of　a　pavement　in　a　one…horse　town　composed
　　　　　of　two　gin…mills；　a　blacksmith　shop；　and　that　mustard…plaster　of　a
　　　　　newspaper；　the　Daily　Hurrah！　　The　crawling　insect；　Buckner；　who
　　　　　edits　the　Hurrah；　is　braying　about　his　business　with　his　customary
　　　　　imbecility；　and　imagining　that　he　is　talking　sense。


〃Now　that　is　the　way　to　writepeppery　and　to　the　point。　　Mush…and…milk
journalism　gives　me　the　fan…tods。〃

About　this　time　a　brick　came　through　the　window　with　a　splintering　crash；
and　gave　me　a　considerable　of　a　jolt　in　the　back。　　I　moved　out　of　range
I　began　to　feel　in　the　way。

The　chief　said；　〃That　was　the　Colonel；　likely。　　I've　been　expecting　him
for　two　days。　　He　will　be　up　now　right　away。〃

He　was　correct。　　The　Colonel　appeared　in　the　door　a　moment　afterward　with
a　dragoon　revolver　in　his　hand。

He　said；　〃Sir；　have　I　the　honor　of　addressing　the　poltroon　who　edits　this
mangy　sheet？〃

〃You　have。　　Be　seated；　sir。　　Be　careful　of　the　chair；　one　of　its　legs　is
gone。　　I　believe　I　have　the　honor　of　addressing　the　putrid　liar；　Colonel
Blatherskite　Tecumseh？〃

〃Right；　Sir。　　I　have　a　little　account　to　settle　with　you。　　If　you　are　at
leisure　we　will　begin。〃

〃I　have　an　article　on　the　'Encouraging　Progress　of　Moral　and　Intellectual
Development　in　America'　to　finish；　but　there　is　no　hurry。　　Begin。〃

Both　pistols　rang　out　their　fierce　clamor　at　the　same　instant。　　The　chief
lost　a　lock　of　his　hair；　and　the　Colonel's　bullet　ended　its　career　in　the
fleshy　part　of　my　thigh。　　The　Colonel's　left　shoulder　was　clipped　a
little。　　They　fired　again。　　Both　missed　their　men　this　time；　but　I　got　my
share；　a　shot　in　the　arm。　　At　the　third　fire　both　gentlemen　were　wounded
slightly；　and　I　had　a　knuckle　chipped。　　I　then　said；　I　believed　I　would
go　out　and　take　a　walk；　as　this　was　a　private　matter；　and　I　had　a
delicacy　about　participating　in　it　further。　　But　both　gentlemen　begged　me
to　keep　my　seat；　and　assured　me　that　I　was　not　in　the　way。

They　then　talked　about　the　elections　and　the　crops　while　they　reloaded；
and　I　fell　to　tying　up　my　wounds。　　But　presently　they　opened　fire　again
with　animation；　and　every　shot　took　effectbut　it　is　proper　to　remark
that　five　out　of　the　six　fell　to　my　share。　　The　sixth　one　mortally
wounded　the　Colonel；　who　remarked；　with　fine　humor；　that　he　would　have　to
say　good　morning　now；　as　he　had　business　uptown。　　He　then　inquired　the
way　to　the　undertaker's　and　left。

The　chief　turned　to　me　and　said；　〃I　am　expecting　company　to　dinner；　and
shall　have　to　get　ready。　　It　will　be　a　favor　to　me　if　you　will　read　proof
and　attend　to　the　customers。〃

I　winced　a　little　at　the　idea　of　attending　to　the　customers；　but　I　was
too　bewildered　by　the　fusillade　that　was　still　ringing　in　my　ears　to
think　of　anything　to　say。

He　continued；　〃Jones　will　be　here　at　threecowhide　him。　　Gillespie　will
call　earlier；　perhapsthrow　him　out　of　the　window。　　Ferguson　will　be
along　about　fourkill　him。　　That　is　all　for　today；　I　believe。　　If　you
have　any　odd　time；　you　may　write　a　blistering　article　on　the　policegive
the　chief　inspector　rats。　　The　cowhides　are　under　the　table；　weapons　in
the　drawerammunition　there　in　the　cornerlint　and　bandages　up　there　in
the　pigeonholes。　　In　case　of　accident；　go　to　Lancet；　the　surgeon；　down…
stairs。　　He　advertiseswe　take　it　out　in　trade。〃

He　was　gone。　　I　shuddered。　　At　the　end　of　the　next　three　hours　I　had　been
through　perils　so　awful　that　all　peace　of　mind　and　all　cheerfulness　were
gone　from　me。　　Gillespie　had　called　and　thrown　me　out　of　the　window。
Jones　arrived　promptly；　and　when　I　got　ready　to　do　the　cowhiding　he　took
the　job　off　my　hands。　　In　an　encounter　with　a　stranger；　not　in　the　bill
of　fare；　I　had　lost　my　scalp。　　Another　stranger；　by　the　name　of　Thompson；
left　me　a　mere　wreck　and　ruin　of　chaotic　rags。　　And　at　last；　at　bay　in
the　corner；　and　beset　by　an　infuriated　mob　of　editors；　blacklegs；
politicians；　and　desperadoes；　who　raved　and　swore　and　flourished　their
weapons　about　my　head　till　the　air　shimmered　with　glancing　flashes　of
steel；　I　was　in　the　act　of　resigning　my　berth　on　the　paper　when　the　chief
arrived；　and　with　him　a　rabble　of　charmed　and　enthusiastic　friends。　　Then
ensued　a　scene　of　riot　and　carnage　such　as　no　human　pen；　or　steel　one
either；　could　describe。　　People　were　shot；　probed；　dismembered；　blown　up；
thrown　out　of　the　window。　　There　was　a　brief　tornado　of　murky　blasphemy；
with　a　confused　and　frantic　war…dance　glimmering　through　it；　and　then　all
was　over。　　In　five　minutes　there　was　silence；　and　the　gory　chief　and　I
sat　alone　and　surveyed　the　sanguinary　ruin　that　strewed　the　floor　around
us。

He　said；　〃You'll　like　this　place　when　you　get　used　to　it。〃

I　said；　〃I'll　have　to　get　you　to　excuse　me；　I　think　maybe　I　might　write
to　suit　you　after　a　while；　as　soon　as　I　had　had　some　practice　and　learned
the　language　I　am　confident　I　could。　　But；　to　speak　the　plain　truth；　that
sort　of　energy　of　expression　has　its　inconveniences；　and　a；　man　is　liable
to　interruption。

You　see　that　yourself。　　Vigorous　writing　is　calculated　to　elevate　the
public；　no　doubt；　but　then　I　do　not　like　to　attract　so　much　attention　as
it　calls　forth。　　I　can't　write　with　comfort　when　I　am　interrupted　so　much
as　I　have　been　to…day。　　I　like　this　berth　well　enough；　but　I　don't　like
to　be　left　here　to　wait　on　the　customers。　　The　experiences　are　novel；
I　grant　you；　and　entertaining；　too；　after　a　fashion；　but　they　are　not
judiciously　distributed。　　A　gentleman　shoots　at　you　through　the　window
and　cripples　me；　a　bombshell　comes　down　the　stovepipe　for　your
gratification　and　sends　the　stove　door　down　my　throat；　a　friend　drops　in
to　swap　compliments　with　you；　and　freckles　me　with　bullet…holes　till　my
skin　won't　hold　my　principles；　you　go　to　dinner；　and　Jones　comes　with　his
cowhide；　Gillespie　throws　me　out　of　the　window；　Thompson　tears　all　my
clothes　off；　and　an　entire　stranger　takes　my　scalp　with　the　easy　freedom
of　an　old　acquaintance；　and　in　less　than　five　minutes　all　the　blackguards
in　the　country　arrive　in　their　war…paint；　and　proceed　to　scare　the　rest
of　me　to　death　with　their　tomahawks。　　Take　it　altogether；　I　never　had
such　a　spirited　time　in　all　my　life　as　I　have　had　to…day。　　No；　I　like
you；　and　I　like　your　calm　unruffled　way　of　explaining　things　to　the
customers；　but　you　see　I　am　not　used　to　it。　　The　Southern　heart　is　too
impulsive；　Southern　hospitality　is　too　lavish　with　the　stranger。　　The
paragraphs　which　I　have　written　to…day；　and　into　whose　cold　sentences
your　masterly　hand　has　infused　the　fervent　spirit　of　Tennesseean
journalism；　will　wake　up　another　nest　of　hornets。　　All　that　mob　of
editors　will　comeand　they　will　come　hungry；　too；　and　want　somebody　for
breakfast。　　I　shall　have　to　bid　you　adieu。　　I　decline　to　be　present　at
these　festivities。　　I　came　South　for　my　health；　I　will　go　back　on　the
same　errand；　and　suddenly。　　Tennesseean　journalism　is　too　stirring　for
me。〃

After　which　we　parted　with　mutual　regret；　and　I　took　apartments　at　the
hospital。






THE　STORY　OF　THE　BAD　LITTLE　BOY＇Written　about　1865＇

Once　there　was　a　bad　little　boy　whose　name　was　Jimthough；　if　you　will
notice；　you　will　find　that　bad　little　boys　are　nearly　always　called　James
in　your　Sunday…school　books。　　It　was　strange；　but　still　it　was　true；　that
this　one　was　called　Jim。

He　didn't　have　any　sick　mother；　eithera　sick　mother　who　was　pious　and
had　the　consumption；　and　would　be　glad　to　lie　down　in　the　grave　and　be　at
rest　but　for　the　strong　love　she　bore　her　boy；　and　the　anxiety　she　felt
that　the　world　might　be　harsh　and　cold　toward　him　when　she　was　gone。
Most　bad　boys　in　the　Sunday　books　are　named　James；　and　have　sick　mothers；
who　teach　them　to　say；　〃Now；　I　lay　me　down；〃　etc。；　and　sing　them　to　sleep
with　sweet；　plaintive　voices；　and　then　kiss　them　good　night；　and　kneel
down　by　the　bedside　and　weep。　　But　it　was　different　with　this　fellow。
He　was　named　Jim；　and　there　wasn't　anything　the　matter　with　his　mother
no　consumption；　nor　anything　of　that　kind。　　She　was　rather　stout　than
otherwise；　and　she　was　not　pious；　moreover；　she　was　not　anxious　on　Jim's
account。　　She　said　if　he　were　to　break　his　neck　it　wouldn't　be　much　loss。
She　always　spanked　Jim　to　sleep；　and　she　never　kissed　him　good　night；　on
the　contrary；　she　boxed　his　ears　when　she　was　ready　to　leave　him。

Once　this　little　bad　boy　stole　the　key　of　the　pantry；　and　slipped　in
there　and　helped　himself　to　some　jam；　and　filled　up　the　vessel　with　tar；
so　that　his　mother　would　never　know　the　difference；　but　all　at　once　a
terrible　feeling　didn't　come　over　him；　and　something　didn't　seem　to
whisper　to　him；　〃Is　it　right　to　disobey　my　mother？　　Isn't　it　sinful　to　do
this？　　Where　do　bad　little　boys　go　who　gobble　up　their　good　kind　mother's
jam？〃　and　then　he　didn't　kneel　down　all　alone　and　promise　never　to　be
wicked　any　more；　and　rise　up　with　a　light；　happy　heart；　and　go　and　tell
his　mother　all　about　it；　and　beg　her　forgiveness；　and　be　blessed　by　her
with　tears　of　pride　and　thankfulness　in　her　eyes。　　No；　that　is　the　way
with　all　other　bad　boys　in　the　books；　but　it　happened　otherwise　with　this
Jim；　strangely　enough。　　He　ate　that　jam；　and　said　it　was　bully；　in　his
sinful；　vulgar　way；　and　he　put　in　the　tar；　and　said　that　was　bully　also；
and　laughed；　and　observed　〃that　the　old　woman　would　get　up　and　snort〃
when　she　found　it　out；　and　when　she　did　find　it　out；　he　denied　knowing
anything　about　it；　and　she　whipped　him　severely；　and　he　did　the　crying
himself。　　Everything　about　this　boy　was　curiouseverything　turned　out
differently　with　him　from　the　way　it　does　to　the　bad　Jameses　in　the
books。

Once　he　climbed　up　in　Farmer　Acorn's　apple　tree　to　steal　apples；　and　the
limb　didn't　break；　and　he　didn't　fall　and　break　his　arm；　and　get　torn　by
the　farmer's　great　dog；　and　then　languish　on　a　sickbed　for　weeks；　and
repent　and　become　good。　　Oh；　no；　he　stole　as　many　apples　as　he　wanted　and
came　down　all　right；　and　he　was　all　ready　for　the　dog；　too；　and　knocked
him　endways　with　a　brick　when　he　came　to　tear　him。　　It　was　very　strange
nothing　like　it　ever　happened　in　those　mild　little　books　with　marbled
backs；　and　with　pictures　in　them　of　men　with　swallow…tailed　coats　and
bell…crowned　hats；　and　pantaloons　that　are　short　in　the　legs；　and　women
with　the　waists　of　their　dresses　under　their　arms；　and　no　hoops　on。
Nothing　like　it　in　any　of　the　Sunday…school　books。

Once　he　stole　the　teacher's　penknife；　and；　when　he　was　afraid　it　would　be
found　out　and　he　would　get　whipped；　he　slipped　it　into　George　Wilson's
cap　poor　Widow　Wilson's　son；　the　moral　boy；　the　good　little　boy　of　the
village；　who　always　obeyed　his　mother；　and　never　told　an　untruth；　and　was
fond　of　his　lessons；　and　infatuated　with　Sunday…school。　　And　when　the
knife　dropped　from　the　cap；　and　poor　George　hung　his　head　and　blushed；
as　if　in　conscious　guilt；　and　the　grieved　teacher　charged　the　theft　upon
him；　and　was　just　in　the　very　act　of　bringing　the　switch　down　upon　his
trembling　shoulders；　a　white…haired；　improbable　justice　of　the　peace　did
not　suddenly　appear　in　their　midst；　and　strike　an　attitude　and　say；
〃Spare　this　noble　boythere　stands　the　cowering　culprit！　　I　was　passing
the　school　door　at　r