FullReads

A retrospective view of some ten or fifteen years, brings up a wonderful “heap of notions,” which at their birth made quite a different sensation from that which their “bare remembrance” would seem to sanction now. The statement made in a “morning paper” before us, of a fine horse being actually scared stone and instantaneously dead, by a roaring and hissing locomotive, brings to mind “a circumstance,” which though it did not exactly do our knitting, it came precious near the climax!

Some years ago, upon what was then considered the “frontier” of Missouri, we chanced to be laid up with a “game leg,” in consequence of a performance of a bullet-headed mule that we were endeavoring to coerce at the end of a corn stalk, for his “intervention” in a fodder stack to which he could lay no legitimate claim. About two miles from our “lodgings” was a store, a “grocery,” shotecary pop, boots, hats, gridirons, whiskey, powder and shot, etc., etc., and the post office. About three times a week, we used to hobble down to this modern ark, to read the news, see what was going on down in the world, and–pass a few hours with the proprietor of the store, who chanced to be a man with whom we had had a former acquaintance “in other climes.” Well, one day, we dropped down to the store, and found pretty much all the men folks–and they were not numerous around there, the houses or cabins being rather scattering–getting ready to go down the river (Missouri) some ten miles, to see a notorious desperado “stretch hemp.” My friend Captain V—-, the storekeeper, was about to go along too, and proposed that we should mount and accompany him, or–stay and tend store. We accepted the latter proposition, as we were in no travelling kelter, and had no taste for performances on the tight rope. Having officiated for Captain V—- on several former occasions, we had the run of his “grocery” and postal arrangements quite fluent enough to take charge of all the trade likely to turn up that day; so the captain and his friends started, promising a return before sunset.

One individual, living some seven miles up the road, called for his newspaper, and got his jug filled, spent a couple of hours with us–put out, and was succeeded by two squalid Indians, with some skins to trade for corn juice and tobacco; they cleared out, and about two or three P. M., some movers came along; we had a little dicker with them, and that closed up the business accounts of the day.

Having discussed all the availables, from the contents of the post office–seven newspapers and four letters per quarter!–to the crackers and cheese, and business being essentially stagnated, we ups and lies down upon the top of the counter, to take a nap. Captain V—-‘s store was a log building, about 15 by 30, and stood near the edge of the woods, and at least half a mile from any habitation, except the schoolhouse and blacksmith’s shop, two small huts, and at that time–“in coventry.” Captain V—- was a bachelor; he boarded–that is, he took his meals at the nearest house–half a mile back from the wood, and slept in his store. We soon fell into the soft soothing arms of Morpheus, and–slept. It was fine mild weather–September, and, of course, the door was wide open. How long we slept we were not at all conscious, but were aroused by a heavy hand that gave us a hearty shake by the shoulder, and in a rather sepulchral voice says–

“How are you?”

Gods! we were up quick, for our sleep had been visited by dreams of southwest tragedies, hanging scrapes, and other nightmare affairs, and as we opened our eyes and caught a glimpse of the double-fisted, cadaverous fellow standing over us, a strong inclination to go off into a cold sweat seized us! Lo! it was after sunset! Almost dark in the store, the stars had already began to twinkle in the sky.