Part 2

“I didn’t object much; I reckoned the sheets war good for it, though he went over two hundred, but I cal’lated he’d do instead of ballast, and be company besides. So I took some bed cord and slung another corn basket below the one I was gwine in, and after dark we hauled the great floppy thing out into the back yard, and arter we got it histed up on stakes we commenced buildin’ fires under her to git the gas up and gittin’ things ready ginnerally. About sun-up we had her all ready to step into. Spence had his sketch book along, cal’latin’ on taking some bird’s-eye views, and I had a bottle of tea, cal’latin’ to empty it gwine up, and fill it with rain water while up thar. The thing was a-wallopin’ and rollin’ around the yard mi’ty impatient to git off. I hitched her first to the grindstone frame, but she was snakin’ that around the yard, and the dogs commenced sech an all-fired yelpin’ and scuddin’ round and watchin’ of it through the fence, that we were obliged to put ’em in the cellar, ’cause we didn’t want the hull neighborhood attractid by ther barkin’. Then we fastened the balloon to the shed post, and left Sal to watch her while we war eatin’ a snack of breakfast. Pooty soon arter we heard Sal a-shoutin’ that she was a-gwine off with the wood-shed. So we ran out mi’ty lively, and had no time to spare, nuther. I jumped up and caught one rope, and Spence got hold of another. We couldn’t fetch it down till Sal caught hold of my leg, and between us three we pulled it back agin.

“She gin a sort of puff and come down pooty sudden when near the ground, and one of the posts of the shed came fair onto the back of a leetle pet hog that was rootin’ round the yard, and knuckled his back down into the chips, leavin’ his head and hinder parts stickin’ up. He commenced sich an uproarious squealin’ you could hear him more’n two miles. While Spence and I were fussin’ at the ropes to unloose her from the shed, she took another sudden start up agin and shot away from us quicker than scat. Sal happened to have hold of a rope at the time, and up she went into the air, scootin’ like a rocket. Sal was a plucky critter. Shoot me, if she wasn’t as full of grit as a sandstone. She could have let go that rope, but she wouldn’t; she wanted to fetch the consarn down agin, and was bound to cling to her until she did. Blow me, if I didn’t think for a while I was goin’ to lose the old woman. Thar she was a-hangin’ on to the end of the rope, hollerin’ like a hull regiment chargin’ a battery, and trailin’ and swingin’ about without any notion of lettin’ go.

“We had a lively time of it gettin’ her down agin too, now I can tell you. I jumped over a fence into the garden, and snatchin’ up a rake commenced to scrape at her, and finally the teeth caught in her dress, and then I had a pooty good hold so long as Sal was good for it. Spence got hold of another rope that was danglin’ around, so between us we got her down the second time. Then I sung out to Spence, ‘Spence,’ ses I, ‘climb into yer basket and let’s be off, or the hull town will be here and stop us gwine.’ So we clim’ into our baskets and flung out Sal’s flatirons, that we had for ballast, and up we shot like a spark up a chimney. I hollered back to Sal to put the hog out of pain and stop the squeakin’, and the last I seed of her as we went round the gable, she was a whackin’ him over the head with the back of an ax, and he was a hollerin’ wuss and wuss.

“The wind took the balloon over a swamp back of the village, where no person seemed to see us, and then the world began to drop away pooty nicely. ’Twant long till I heered Spence callin’ out, mi’ty skeered like:—

“‘I guess, Sam, you mout as well land her and let me git out.’

“‘Are you afeered, Spence?’ ses I, jest that way.

“‘No,’ he answered. ‘I arn’t afeered, but I reckon my fam’ly would be mi’ty uneasy about this time if they knowed whar I was, and I begin to feel pooty sowlicitous about ’em.’

“‘This yer thing is somethin’ like law,’ I ses, ‘when yer’ into her you’ve got to keep goin’ till somethin’ gins out. She hasn’t got a rope a holdin’ of her down now, Spence, and as for yer’ fam’ly, I reckon the’re a mi’ty sight safer than you be, so if you have any spare sowlicitude, you had better be a tuckin’ it onto yourself. ‘Sides,’ I contin’ed, ‘I hain’t studied into the lettin’ down part of it half so much as into the rizin’.’

“‘Jerusalem!’ he shouted. ‘I thought you war famil’ar with the hull thing or I’d have as soon thought of gwine up in a whirlwind.’

“‘I fancy I do know considerable about it,’ I ses.

“‘Then why can’t you stop her right here?’ he hollered, lookin’ up, pooty pale.

“‘I cal’late we’ve got to keep ascendin’ while the gas holds out,’ I answered.

“‘Thunder and lightnin’!’ he hollered, jest that way, ‘and what are you agwine to do arter the gas gins out?’

“‘I reckon,’ ses I, ‘we’ll come down agin.’

“‘A flukin’?’ he asked.

“‘Perhaps so,’ ses I. ‘I cal’late we’ll come down faster than we’re gwine up, but I’m hopin’ to catch an undercurrent of a’r that will sweep us along, and let us down sort of gently.’

“Just as we war talkin’ somethin’ gin a whoppin’ crack overhead, and she began to drop down by the run pooty lively.

“‘What’s that?’ shouted Spence. ‘I think I hear a sort of tearin’ noise up thar; ain’t somethin’ ginnin’ out?’

“‘I reckon the old woman’s sheets have commenced to gin out,’ I said, kind of careless like, though beginnin’ to feel mi’ty narvous all to wunst. On lookin’ down, I seed Spence was a cranin’ out of the basket and lookin’ down, jest as pale as could be.

“‘Sufferin’ pilgrims!’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you throw out somethin’, Sam, and lighten her a leetle? She’s droppin’ straight down, like an aerolite.’

“‘I hain’t got anythin’ to throw out exceptin’ the tea bottle, and that ar’ is e’enmost empty,’ I ses. ‘I cal’late we’ve got to take our chances; if you hain’t forgot yer childhood prayers, you mout as well be a runnin’ of ’em over, for things are beginnin’ to look mi’ty skeery jest now, I can tell ye.’

“Pooty soon I heer’d him a mumblin’ to himself, and I allers allowed he was prayin.’

“We war now about steeple high, and as I had expected, the wind caught us and began to sweep us around pooty loose. As we went wallopin’ over St. Patrick’s church, Spence’s basket struck the spire and was a spillin’ of him out like a lobster out of a market basket. I peered over and seed he was e’enmost gone, so I hollered, ‘Go for the spire, Spence, it’s your only chance.’ He seemed to be of the same mind, for as I spoke he was a grabbin’ for it and managed to git hold of one end of the weather-vane. I reckon if he had got hold on both ends he’d ha’ bin all right; but things war gettin’ desperate and he had to take what come. The balloon riz some when he fell out, and as it was a movin’ off I looked back to see how he was a makin’ it. He was a hangin’ thar like a gymnast, a kickin’ and a wormin’ and the steeple a rockin’. But he was too awful heavy; he couldn’t draw himself up nohow. Pooty soon the tail of the fish gin out, and down he slid along the steeple like a shot coon down a ’simmon tree.

“Fortunately he struck the roof and over it he rolled, clawin’ and a scratchin’ the shingles as he went. But it was ‘all go and no whoa,’ as the boy said when he was a slidin’ the greased banister. Old Father McGillop was just comin’ out of the vestry door after matins as Spence come a scootin’ over the eaves and down kerflumix right on top of him. This, ye see, sort of broke the fall for Spence, but it spread the distress. He was so heavy and come with such force he disjinted the neck of his Riverence, and shoved it so far down into the body that his ears were restin’ on the shoulders. They had to git a shovel to dig him out of the ground, and Doc Willoughby was a fussin’ over him more than five hours, a yankin’ his neck out of his body, and pressin’ his ears into shape, and”——

“Stop now,” said the fat old chap, who was worked up to the top notch of attention, “do you mean to say he lived after his neck was dislocated?”

“Wal, I reckon, boss,” said the narrator, as he took a fresh quid of tobacco, “I hain’t made no sech unreasonable assertion. I was sayin’ they hauled his neck back, and put his ears in place agin (or ruther one of ’em, for the butcher’s dog eat t’other one before the old sexton could git to it), so that he mout make somethin’ like a decent appearance in the coffin.

“Soon as Spence went over the eave I lost sight of him, for I was drivin’ pooty briskly over Kent’s corn patch, and as I came sweepin’ down by the widder O’Donnell’s she was in the yard gittin’ an apron full of chips. I reckon she heer’d a burrin’ sound overhead, ’cause she looked up, and when she seed the balloon she gin a squall and cried out somethin’ about protection. I reckoned she was callin’ on the saints, but had no time just then to listen. Before she had gone many steps she dropped, and I allowed she had gone down in a faintin’ fit.

“I was a drivin’ and a driftin’ over the village like a thistle-down, for more than two hours, and the dogs war a barkin’ and the men and wimmin a hollerin’ and a runnin’ arter it wherever it drifted. The barn-yard fowls war a cacklin’ and a screamin’. Jewillikens! didn’t I make a rumption among them though! You’d think thar war forty thousand hawks and turkey-buzzards a hoverin’ over the village, by the way they scattered, aginst the winders, ahind stun walls, into the wells, under lumber piles and currint bushes; such a scrougin’ and squattin’ and scootin’ I never did see. Parson Jones had thirteen lights of glass smashed by fowls batterin’ aginst the winders tryin’ to git in, and Dud Davis, the blacksmith, fished seven dead hens, two turkeys, a guinea fowl, and two small pigs out of his well next day, whar they sought refuge and war drown’d. Dad Kent gin me six traces of good seed corn next fall. He said barrin’ the killin’ of Priest McGillop, it was the best thing that ever happened in Tuckersville. He said I did more for his crop than if he had a scarecrow standin’ astride every hill. Thar wasn’t a crow flew within two miles of the village for mor’n a fortnight, and by that time the corn was grown so they couldn’t pull it up.

“Pooty soon the balloon come down about house high and druv over toward the dee-pot. I was a hopin’ she’d catch on the telegraph wire, but she skimm’d over, like a swallow over a fence, and immediately riz up tree high agin, where scrape, slap, slash, she went into an ole pine that stood out alone in the field. I was scratched pooty bad, but hung on to the limbs, and arter a while slid down the tree leavin’ the balloon hangin’ in the tree-top. Great turnips! if all Tuckersville wasn’t down thar in five minutes. Thar war young ‘uns runnin’ around half-dressed, with corn-dodgers in their hands, and wimmin with babies in their arms. It was like a dog fight, only, as the feller said when describin’ the nigger by the mulatter, it was more so.

“The train was delayed half an hour that mornin’, ’cause the engineer, conductor and all hands jumped off the cars and ran down to the balloon. Peg-leg Dibbly, the Mexican war veteran, was thar, hobblin’ around among the rest. He was in such a hurry to git down to the tree he wouldn’t go around by the road, but started in to take a short cut across the marsh with the crowd. And he had a sweet, sweatin’ time of it too, now I can assure you. First his cane would stick, and just about the time he would git that out, down would slide his iron-shod leg fully a foot into the mud, and stake him thar like a scarecrow. Then he would look down to where the people were standin’, and jerk and swear until the want of breath only would make him let up. He got down thar after a while though, but he had to crawl considerable before he could do it; and arter he got thar he was bobbin’ here and bobbin’ thar, tryin’ to git a better look up into the tree, until at last he stumbled and fell across one of Dud Davis’ young ‘uns, and gin her left leg a compound fractur’. She set up a screamin’, and he was so weak and frightened he couldn’t git up agin no how, but lay thar gruntin’, and sprawlin’, and kickin’ his one leg around. The blacksmith was thar himself, and when he seed his young ’un down in the mud with her leg broke, you never seed a man so mad in all your born days. He jest ran and grabbed the old pensioner by the coat collar, and slung him mor’n fifteen feet, landin’ him slidin’ on his back in the mud, like a crawfish.

“About the same time Tubbs, the cooper, was a lookin’ up, and he seed a bough springin’ up, and he allowed the balloon was comin’ down; so he started to run, and stepped on the foot of Kent’s snappin’ bull-dog, that was a settin’ thar lookin’ up the tree, thinkin’ thar must be a coon up it. The cur whirled round mad, and set his teeth into the nighest thing to him, which happened to be old Polly Alien’s ankle. But he got more than he bargained for, though, for she was so tuff that his teeth stuck thar, and she was a screamin’ and a runnin’ hum, draggin’ him arter her mor’n half the way. I never did see sich an excitin’ time. School was dismissed, and there wasn’t a lick of work done in Tuckersville the hul day. The hul talk was ‘Sam Patterson’s balloon, Sam Patterson’s balloon.’ I didn’t have to pay a picayune for anything for mor’n three weeks. Parson Jones preached a tellin’ sermon about the balloon, and thar wasn’t standin’ room in the church; they had to keep the windows open and let people standin’ on the outside stick their heads in and listen. He likened it first to youth, when it was a rollin’ around in the back yard, whar nobody seed it, impatient and ambitious to rise. Then like unto manhood, when it was up, a bustin’ and droppin’ down agin. Next he said it resembled old age, when it was in rags a floppin’ around in the tree, more for observation than use. Thar wasn’t hardly a dry eye in the hul meetin’ house. Hard-hearted old sinners cried like teethin’ babies.

“The balloon hung in the tree all summer, and every day thar’d be a crowd of people starin’ at it, like cats at a bird cage. A photographer came the hul way from town, and took lots of views of the remains; and one of Frank Leslie’s special artists come rattlin’ down thar, and sot on a stun wall for two days drawin’ sketches of it. He said it was the most spirited subject he had sot eyes on since he sketched the hoop-skirt Jeff Davis was captured in. But I’m gettin’ ruther dry. Ain’t some of you fellers agwine to call on the stimilints?”

MY CANINE.

“If you have tears, prepare to shed them now.” _Shakespeare._

Some fond poets sing of their lady-love’s eyes, Or lovers who sail the seas over; But poet-like I shall gaze up at the skies, And muse of my little dog Rover.

The canine I sing, to disease is a prey; The mange, the distemper, and flea, Have all had their turn, and have worn him away; His shadow you scarcely can see.

From earliest light, until late in the night, He’s dodging hot water and sticks; I’m shamed to confess it, but truth I must write, He’s a foot-ball that every one kicks.

I hear his thin cry, and his frightened “ki-yi,” Almost any hour of the day; And Bridget’s “Bad ’cess to the likes of your Skye, Sure he’s here, and he’s there like a flay.”

Upon his poor body the hair has all died, ’Tis smooth and as bare as your hand; I vow I believe there’s no life in his hide, It looks just as if it were tanned.

His blood is so thin that he never is warm, And keenly he feels the cold weather; He shivering stands with tail end to the storm, And his four feet all huddled together.

He suffers sad woe, as his body doth show, His face bears a hopeless expression; He seems to be wondering why he’s a foe, Who never commits a transgression.

He’s only a dog in the dark to be sure, But I who am mourning his plight, Know accident often exalts the low boor, And crowds merit down out of sight.

How oft do we see the chief dunce of the town, With head like a turnip or melon, Advanced to the Bench, or clergyman’s gown, Though thought to be born for a felon.

Dost laugh at my song? Well I care not a pin, My notion I never shall lose; I know that my dog hath a spirit within, That cannot be crushed by abuse.

JIM DUDLEY’S FLIGHT.

That blabbing Hoosier, Bob Browser, has found me out, and paid me a call, boring me with his confounded stories. Even as a hungry parrot when crackers are in view, or as a miller’s hopper when water is high and the farmer’s meal bags low, he rattles right along with copious discourse.

“What’s that you say! Did you know Jim Dudley? What! him as the boys in Gosport used to call Carrot Top Jim? Wal, I’ll be rattled if that ain’t queer. Wasn’t he the allfiredest shirk you ever did see? Perhaps you remember how sudden he left Gosport jest before the war? Oh, that’s so, sure enough, you went north sometime afore that.

“Wal, that chap was etarnally gettin’ in some scrape or another; I do jest think I’ve helped that Jim out of more close corners than there are buildin’s in this yer town. Yer see him and me was great chums, and roomed at the same house on York Street. Jim was a courtin’ a butcher’s darter that lived out near the cem’t’ry for ‘bout a year afore he left, leastwise he was a totin’ of her around considerable, takin’ her to picnics, circuses, hoss races, and the like. I kind of had my doubts about him gettin’ married, ’cause he was a pooty sot ole batch’, and sometimes I’d ask him when the nuptils were a comin’ off; but he’d allers shuffle out of it by sayin’ when they did come I’d git an invite, and kind of larf it off jest that way.

“One night pooty soon arter I had got into bed I heered some one thumpin’ at my door, and afore I had time to say anythin’ Jim Dudley was plum across the room and standin’ by the bedside.

“‘Bob,’ ses he, jest that way, ‘we’ve got to part agin’ and I’ve come to gin your paw a shake afore I leave.’

“‘What’s up now, Jim?’ ses I, pooty surprised and settin’ up amazin’ fast in bed to strike a light, ’cause I allers liked Jim. Drat my pictur, if I didn’t. He stuck to me like a hoss-leech when I was down with the yaller fever. I was peeled down so mi’ty thin that I didn’t make a shadder only arter I’d been eatin’ corn-dodgers or somethin’ that wasn’t transparent. Soon as I got a light I seed his face was tombstun white exceptin’ some long red scratches onto it, that made me think thar had been cats a-clawin’ of him.

“‘I haint time to gin perticulars now, but water’s gettin’ too plaguey shaller for me in Gosport,’ ses he, jest that way. ‘And I’m gwine to pull out for deeper soundin’s. I want to head off the night express, and as I’ve got only fifteen minutes to do it in, must be a movin’,’ and givin’ my hand a rattlin’ shake he turned, and before I could say ‘scat,’ he was goin’ down the stairs like a bucket fallin’ down a well, and I thought he hadn’t more than got to the middle of the flight when I heer’d the door slam behind him.

“I lay awake thar for hours thinkin’ and wonderin’ what on airth could have turned up to make Jim dust out of town so all-fired sudden, bein’ as how he was doin’ pooty well pecun’ar’ly—that is, for _him_.

“I kind of mistrusted somethin’ had gone wrong with him out to old Hurley’s—the butcher’s. So the next day, bein’ kind of curious, I took a stroll out that way, to look around a leetle and see what was goin’ on. I seed a glaz’er a fussin’ round a winder, and old Hurley sittin’ on the steps lookin’ mi’ty solemn at a hat—which I knowed was Jim’s—that was a-hangin’ on a bush in the garden.

“Some months arter this the war was a bilin’ and I jined a company and went down to Cairo to go into camp. By jingo! would you believe it? almost the first man I ran ag’in’ was Jim Dudley! He’d enlisted in a hoss regiment up to St. Louis, and come down to camp a few days afore me. We were both mi’ty tickled to meet one another right thar, so we p’inted for a place where we could have a straight-out chat, and while we were sittin’ thar, talkin’ about old times, ses I to him:—

“‘Jim, now we’re a gwine down into this blamed muss, and the chances are pooty good for us to git chawed up down thar, and nothin’ more to be heer’d about us—now s’posin’ you tell a feller what made you pull up stakes and dust from Gosport so amazin’ fast, last Fall.’

“‘Wal, Bob,’ ses he, ‘seein’ we’ve met agin, I don’t mind if I do ‘lighten you a leetle in regard to my leavin’ so sudden. You remember I’d bin over to Franklin some time afore I left, and jest got back to Gosport that day, and in the evenin’ I started out to see Mag. I was a hopin’ the old man wouldn’t be to hum—he ginerally was away Saturday nights.

“‘’Twas dark afore I got there, leastwise the bats were a flitterin’ aroun’ the gables and apple trees, a-lookin’ for thar suppers. I gin the bell-knob a jerk anyhow, and pooty soon old Hurley hisself came to the door, with a candle in his hand. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and I reckon he had jest come hum from work. He kind of gin a start, as though he was surprised to see me; and I gin a start, too, and jumped back from the door pooty quick, for I thought I heer’d him grit his teeth a leetle—somethin’ like a sheep arter she’s bin eatin’ beans—but I wasn’t sartain.

“‘Come in, M-i-s-t-e-r Dudley,’ ses he, kind of low and coaxin’ like. ‘I hope you’ve bin enjoyin’ good health. I hope you’ve come prepared to stop with us awhile.’

“Thankin’ him for his kind wishes, I follered him along, wonderin’ what in time made him so amazin’ solicitous for my health all to wunst, ’cause I knowed the old man hated me worse than a rat does pizen.

“He didn’t stop in the parlor where some folks were sittin’, but kept on into a small room, beck’nin’ me to foller, which I did, though I was beginnin’ to feel pooty suspicious about the old feller’s movements.

“‘Stay here a minute, Mr. Dudley,’ ses he, arter I had sot down. ‘Make yourself comfortable until I come back agin,’ he continued, jest that way, and then he stepped out.

“I tell you, I begun to feel wonderful fidgity and kind of prickly down along the spine; and when I heer’d the old man comin’ back, and heer’d his feet slappin’ down heavier and faster than when he went out, then I knowed thar’ was trouble ahead. I could feel a distressin’ presentiment jest a-bubblin’ through my veins, and limberin’ up all my jints.

“Pooty soon the old man came in, a-holdin’ his left hand in front of him doubled up tight as though for boxin’, and keepin’ his right hand ahind him, kind of careless like, as though ’twas there by accident. I knowed ’twas no nat’ral position, and kept peerin’ round, for I ’spected he had a cow-hide, and was calculatin’ to gin me a sound tannin’; but when he went to shet the door ahind him, I got a glimpse of the alfiredest great butcher’s cleaver you ever yet sot eyes on, a-shinin’ jest as bright as could be. Jerusalem! if that bone-splitter didn’t make me begin to feel tarnation uneasy, then thar’s no use sayin’ it. My heart flopped up so far into my throat it actewelly seemed as though I could taste it.

“‘I’ve got very pressin’ business down town, and guess I’d better be a-movin,’ ses I, rizin’ up.

“‘S-i-t d-o-w-n,’ ses he, easy, that way, as though he wasn’t disturbed any, though I seed he was awful pale. ‘Don’t be in a hurry,’ he went on, keepin’ his back flat against the door the whole time. ‘You’ve been pokin’ around here ‘bout long enuff,’ said he, ‘and I think it time you ’tended to bisness.