Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 02, May 1, 1858

Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 02, May 1, 1858

John Horsewell was a poor boy, and had duck legs. My brother William was taller and older than John, and had a new suit of clothes, with which I clad John from head to foot. Bills hat and boots were too large for John, and his coat on John nearly grazed the ground. I put on my Sunday suit, and off we went to Boston, forty miles distant. We quarrelled on the road, in a deep wood, and I demanded John to take off Bills clothes, at which he called me hard names, and I left him, and directed my steps towards Providence, leaving him reclining on the embankment of the forest road. I wandered half a mile at a quick and revengeful pace; but as twilight was approaching, and I heard the bark of a dog, with lungs of thunder, I became alarmed, and hurried back to John, and craved his pardon, and we lingered until the stage arrived, when we took passage for Boston, reaching the Marlboro Hotel at midnight. Mr. Barker was the host, and, on our inquiry for lamps to retire, he exclaimed: Who are you, and whence came you? John was disconcerted, but I was cool, and replied: Our names are Branch and Horsewell, and we are from Providence. Did you visit Boston with the permission of your father and mother? No, sir. You ran away, then? No, sir; we walked away. What can you do in Boston in your clouts? Learn a trade, sir. Have you any money? Forty cents, sir. Bob: Take these brats to your room, and make a bunk on the floor, and lock the door, and watch their movements closely until morning, when I will put them in the poor house or county jail. And off we tramped to bed, up four flights of stairs, and were locked in until Bob came to bed, when we snored terribly, pretending to be in a doze so profound, that a cannon could not arouse us. John cried all night, and at daylight we crawled softly from our hard nests, while Bob was asleep, and softly turned the key, and descended the stairs in our stockings, and fled for our lives. We went to the market, and got a cheap breakfast, and then sought the theatre, where we saw Mac Cready announced as Hamlet. We ardently desired to go, but had not sufficient money; and away we trudge to Brattle street, and exchange our new clothes for worthless rags, with five dollars besides. We then return to the theatre, and linger on its steps until the performance[3] begins, when we purchase tickets, and rush, with about forty negroes, up stairs into the gallery, like a gang of maniacs, (so wild was our common joy,) where we witness a vast plain of woolly heads that resemble the Black Sea. The heat was intense, and we perspired like cotton slaves, and the stench was as intolerable as cholera malaria. During the day, we engaged lodgings with a little colored barber, opposite the theatre, for nine-pence each a night. At the close of the performance we thumped a long period before he let us in, and then we found him partially intoxicated. In the morning, we strolled on the Common, and John became homesick, and besought me to return to Providence; and he cried and implored so hard, that I yielded; and while engaging our passage, a young man named James Baker recognised us, and desired me to remain in Boston under his protection, to which I assented, but John departed for Providence. I went to board with Jim Baker in Theatre Alley, with Mrs. Charnock, a superannuated actress, and afterwards at the Sun Tavern and other places, for which we did not pay our board, and walked to Salem, where I wrote to father for money, which he sent me, and I returned to Providence. He received me with intense affection, and I wept with commingled joy and sorrow at my return, and his anguish at my dishonorable absence. At about ten years old, John Horsewell and myself stole some pigeons from Dexter Spencers barn, and we were caught with them in our hats. Father took my hand, and led me to the wharf, where ships could float, and suspended me over the water, until I had a slight fit, when he carried me home. It was baking day, and aunt Lucy was very angry because he did not drown me, and in her wrath, while he was absent, she took out the pies and brown bread, and put me in the oven head foremost, and nearly baked me. A few seconds more in the oven, and I would have smothered. I told father when he came to dinner, and he boxed Aunt Lucys ears severely, and demanded her to instantly surrender the dress and bonnet he gave her the day previous. But she cried so hard, and wrung her hands so piteously, that he soon restored them, lest she would have cramps in the stomach, with which she was often dangerously afflicted, through her excessive fondness for cheese and hard-shell clams, of which she often ate until she could scarcely breathe. A month later, I stole some peaches and currents from Captain Prouds garden, and old junk and iron from the ship yards. Father was a Justice of the Peace, and took me to jail, and put me in a[4] cell; but I screamed so fearfully, that he restored me to liberty in about five minutes; and when I emerged from the dungeon, I sprang upon his bosom, and kissed him as tenderly as a cow laps her calf, and I also kissed the turnkey, whose keys terribly scared me. I soon went to a country boarding school, and terrified the farmers for miles around, who petitioned father to come after me, who visited the unsophisticated countrymen, and strove to tranquilise their nerves with the assurance that I would not contaminate their children, nor desolate their fields and orchards, and that it was the crows and not me that pilfered their early crops of fruits and vegetation. But they shook their heads, and besought him to restore the wonted quiet and confidence of the parish, by my immediate departure for some distant region. Father succumbed, and we left for Providence, where I became the very youthful clerk of Norman White, who is now an extensive type and paper merchant in Beekman street, with whom I remained until I left for New York with Jim Baker in the steamer Washington, Captain Bunker, concealing ourselves in the water closets until the boat passed Newport, when we appeared on deck, and strutted as boldly and proudly as Robert Macaire and his companion. But the Captain soon discovered us to be impostors, and made us pass pine wood to the firemen for our passage. Jim was older and stronger than me, and the Captain and first mate made him work like a slave; but I was seasick, and vomited dreadfully all over the deck, and the firemen, and passengers; and as the Captain slowly passed me, I belched a copious volley of the most bitter bile plumply in his face, for which he severely shook me, and made me express my sorrow for the dire calamity and apparent insult, and drove me down below, where I implored the Cook to throw me overboard, and relieve me from my deathly sickness. The nigger Cook laughed uproariously over my misfortunes, and declined my request, and brought me a stew composed of pork, molasses, and onions, for my dinner; and, as I smelt, and inhaled, and gazed upon the nauseous dish, I let fly a torrent of bile into the darkeys face, who run for his life, and molested me no more during the voyage, and I never saw Sambo again. We arrived in New York, at Fulton market, and went to Holts Eating House, and ate heartily, and Jim Baker went in pursuit of work as a segar maker, and I tagged on behind. He got employment, and we boarded in Fulton street, near Broadway. I soon got a situation as bar keeper, with Mr. Saunders, in Laurens street,[5] next to the theatre, and soon afterwards went a few doors above, in the basement, as bartender for Mr. Gilman. I then became a waiter in a New York and Albany steamboat, and afterwards in a Hartford steamer. I then went to an Intelligence office (whoso proprietor strove to cheat me), and for 50 cents got a situation with Wm. Chapman, No. 60 Pine street, at $2 a week, and boarded in Water street, near Beekman. Wm. H. Stansbury was Mr. Chapmans book-keeper, who left soon after I came, and went with James Brooks, of the New York Express, as book-keeper, where he is now. This was in 1826. My duties consisted in helping William Chapman softly draw his coat over his rheumatic shoulders, and going to the Post Office, and copying letters. I told Mr. Chapman that I had to pay two dollars a week for board, and that he must increase my salary, or I could not remain. He said that he could get a boy for less than two dollars a week, and I left him, and got a place with two brothers, named Morton, in Front street, for two dollars and twenty-five cents a week. While passing the sailor hat store of Mr. Leary, Mr. Learys mother called me into the store, and said: Little boy, if you will take this bottle, and go to the grocery and get me some gin, I will give you some pennies. When I returned with the gin, she asked me if I would like to be a clerk for Mr. Leary. I said that I would come for my board and clothes. She told me to call in the evening and arrange the compensation with Mr. Leary, who would then be in the store. I did so, and on the following day I told the Messrs. Morton that I must leave them, as two dollars and twenty-five cents a week could not buy my food and clothes, and pay for washing my two shirts and two pairs of stockings. Mr. Leary, his wife, mother, children, and myself, were packed like pork in two small rooms in the rear of the store, which were used as kitchens, bed-rooms, parlors, wash-rooms and everything else, which rendered the atmosphere slightly dense and foggy, and perhaps impure, and in the night we often had skull collisions, and tumbled over each other, which strongly resembled a rough and tumble cabin scene in a terrific storm. I might have endured all this, but to make fires, open store, sell hats to drunken sailors, run errands, and take care of squalling children, so taxed my patience, and wasted my pale and naturally delicate form, that I resolved to leave instanter, and, with the Pilgrims heavy burden, away I flew in pursuit of employment. Mr. Leary now keeps a hat store in the Astor House, whose boys are wealthy merchants in Exchange Place, whom I often remind of the days when I bore them in my arms, and spanked them when they squalled. From Learys I went to the Harpers in Cliff street, and was placed in the pressing and folding room, in the upper story. I boarded with Fletcher (the youngest of the Harpers) in Batavia street, between James and Roosevelt. The firm then consisted of John, James, and Wesley Harper. Fletcher was the foreman of the composing room, (where I was ultimately placed), who corrected my earliest errors in the printers stickand a precious job he had of itconsuming more of his valuable time than my composition was worth. Fletcher was a fireman, and recently married, and rather wild, and had two children, one of whom was the partner of Raymond, Wesley and Jones, of the New York Daily Times, at the origin of that Journal, whom I often fondled in my arms in his infancy, who was a very pretty child, though rather lively for one so extremely young, whose extraordinary vivacity I attributed to worms. Wesley Harper was incomparably modest and susceptible in those days, and visited and married a lady residing with Fletcher, who was connected with his wife. While they were courting up stairs,[6] the servant girl, myself, and other apprentices often annoyed them with our funny tricks; but Wesley and Fletcher did not dare complain of us to John and James Harper, as the courtship of Wesley was without the knowledge of the elder Harpers. The servant of Fletcher imparted to us this precious secret, and we long teased the timid lovers with impunity, in which the mischievous servant participated with great hilarity. ......Buy Now (To Read More)

Product details

Ebook Number: 48930
Author: Branch, Stephen H.
Release Date: May 11, 2015
Format: eBook
Language: English

Contributors

Editor: Branch, Stephen H