Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches Part 4

The week wore slowly and uneasily away. The clouds of war were gathering rapidly, and the low roll of distant thunder announced that a battle storm of no ordinary importance was near at hand. Colonel Averitt, by some traitorous trick of war, had heard of our former defeat, and publicly taunted our commander with his failure. Indeed, more than one of the villagers had heard of the disastrous result of the campaign, and sent impertinent messages to those who had been wounded in the encounter. Two or three of the young ladies, also, in the girls'

department, had been inoculated with the _fun_ (as it was absurdly denominated), and a leather medal was pinned most provokingly to the short jacket of the captain by one of those hoydenish Amazons.

All these events served to whet the courage of our men, and strange as it may appear, to embitter our hostility to our victorious foe. Some of the officers proceeded so far as to threaten Colonel Averitt himself, and at one time, I am confident, he stood in almost as much danger as the protector of his flock.

Sat.u.r.day came at last, and at the first blast of the bugle, we formed into line, and advanced with great alacrity into the enemy's country.

After marching half an hour, our scouts hastily returned, with the information that the enemy was drawn up, in full force, near the scene of the Persimmon bush battle. We advanced courageously to within speaking distance, and then halted to breathe the troops and prepare for the engagement. We surveyed our enemies with attention, but without alarm. There they stood right before us!

"Firm paced and slow, a horrid front they form; Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm!"

Our preparations were soon made, and at the command of the captain, we separated into single files, one half making a _detour_ to the right, and the other to the left, so as to encircle the foe. Our instructions were to spare all non-combatants, to pa.s.s by as unworthy of notice all minor foes, and to make a simultaneous rush upon the proud champion of our adversaries.

By this masterly manoeuvre it was supposed we should be enabled to escape unharmed, or at any rate without many serious casualties. But as it afterward appeared, we did not sufficiently estimate the strength and activity of our enemy.

After this preparatory manoeuvre had been successfully accomplished, our captain gave the order to "charge!" in a stentorian voice, and at the same time rushed forward most gallantly at the head of the squadron. The post of honor is generally the post of danger also, and so it proved on this occasion; for before the captain could grapple with the foe, Billy Goat rose suddenly on his hinder legs, and uttering a loud note of defiance, dashed with lightning speed at the breast of our commander, and at a single blow laid him prostrate on the field. Then wheeling quickly, ere any of his a.s.sailants could attack his rear flank, he performed the same exploit upon the first and second lieutenants, and made an unsuccessful pa.s.s at the standard-bearer, who eluded the danger by a scientific retreat. At this moment, when the fortunes of the day hung, as it were, on a single hair, our drummer, who enjoyed the _sobriquet_ of "Weasel," advanced slowly but chivalrously upon the foe.

As the hosts of Israel and Gath paused upon the field of Elah, and awaited with fear and trembling the issue of the single-handed contest between David and Goliah; as Roman and Sabine stood back and reposed on their arms, whilst Horatio and Curiatii fought for the destiny of Rome and the mastery of the world, so the "Woodville Cadets" halted in their tracks on this memorable day, and all aghast with awe and admiration, watched the progress of the terrible duello between "Weasel," the drummer boy, and Billy Goat, the hero of the battle of the Persimmon bush.

The drummer first disengaged himself from the inc.u.mbrance of his martial music, then threw his hat fiercely upon the ground, and warily and circ.u.mspectly approached his foe. Nor was that foe unprepared, for rearing as usual on his nether extremities, he bleated out a long note of contempt and defiance, and dashed suddenly upon the "Weasel."

Instead of waiting to receive the force of the blow upon his breast or brow, the drummer wheeled right-about face, and falling suddenly upon all fours with most surprising dexterity, presented a less vulnerable part of his body to his antagonist, who, being under full headway, was compelled to accept the subst.i.tuted b.u.t.tress, and immediately planted there a herculean thump. I need not say that the drummer was hurled many feet heels over head, by this disastrous blow; but he had obtained the very advantage he desired to secure, and springing upon his feet he leaped quicker than lightning upon the back of his foe, and in spite of every effort to dislodge him, sat there in security and triumph!

With a loud huzza, the main body of the "Cadets" now rushed forward, and after a feeble resistance, succeeded in overpowering the champion of our foes.

As a matter of precaution, we blindfolded him with several handkerchiefs, and led him away in as much state as the Emperor Aurelian displayed when he carried Zen.o.bia to Rome, a prisoner at his chariot-wheels.

The fate of the vanquished Billy Goat is soon related. A council of war decided that he should be taken into a dense pine thicket, there suspended head downwards, and thrashed _ad libitum_, by the whole army.

The sentence was carried into execution immediately; and though he was cut down and released after our vengeance was satisfied, I yet owe it to truth and history to declare, that before a week elapsed, he died of a broken heart, and was buried by Colonel Averitt with all the honors of war.

If it be any satisfaction to the curious inquirer, I may add in conclusion, that the Rev. Mr. Craig avenged his _manes_, by wearing out a chinquapin apiece on the backs of "Weasel," the captain and officers, and immediately afterward disbanded the whole army.

[Decoration]

IV.

_FOR AN ALb.u.m._

When first our father, Adam, sinned Against the will of Heaven, And forth from Eden's happy gates A wanderer was driven, He paused beside a limpid brook, That through the garden ran, And, gazing in its mirrored wave, Beheld himself--_a man_!

G.o.d's holy peace no longer beamed In brightness from his eye; But in its depths dark pa.s.sions blazed, Like lightnings in the sky.

Young Innocence no longer wreathed His features with her smile; But Sin sat there in scorched dismay, Like some volcanic isle.

No longer radiant beauty shone Upon his manly brow; But care had traced deep furrows there, With stern misfortune's plow.

Joy beamed no longer from his face; His step was sad and slow; His heart was heavy with its grief; His bosom with its woe.

Whilst gazing at his altered form Within the mirrored brook, He spied an angel leaning o'er, With pity in her look.

He turned, distrustful of his sight, Unwilling to believe, When, lo! in Heaven's own radiance smiled, His sweet companion, Eve!

Fondly he clasped her to his heart, And blissfully he cried, "What tho' I've lost a Paradise, I've gained an angel bride!

No flowers in Eden ever bloomed, No! not in heaven above, Sweeter than woman brings to man-- Her friendship, truth, and love!"

These buds were brought by Adam's bride, Outside of Eden's gate, And scattered o'er the world; _to them_ This book I dedicate.

[Decoration]

[Decoration]

V.

_PHASES IN THE LIFE OF JOHN POLLEXFEN._

PHASE THE FIRST.

There are but three persons now living who can truthfully answer the question, "How did John Pollexfen, the photographer, make his fortune?"

No confidence will be violated, now that he is dead, and his heirs residents of a foreign country, if I relate the story of that singular man, whose rapid acc.u.mulation of wealth astonished the whole circle of his acquaintance.

Returning from the old man's funeral a few days since, the subject of Pollexfen's discoveries became the topic of conversation; and my companions in the same carriage, aware that, as his attorney and confidential friend, I knew more of the details of his business than any one else, extorted from me a promise that at the first leisure moment I would relate, in print, the secret of that curious invention by which the photographic art was so largely enriched, and himself elevated at once to the acme of opulence and renown.

Few persons who were residents of the city of San Francisco at an early day, will fail to remember the site of the humble gallery in which Pollexfen laid the foundations of his fame. It was situated on Merchant Street, about midway between Kearny and Montgomery Streets, in an old wooden building; the ground being occupied at present by the solid brick structure of Thomas R. Bolton. It fed the flames of the great May fire of 1851, was rebuilt, but again consumed in December, 1853. It was during the fall of the latter year that the princ.i.p.al event took place which is to const.i.tute the most prominent feature of my narrative.

I am aware that the facts will be discredited by many, and doubted at first by all; but I beg to premise, at the outset, that because they are uncommon, by no means proves that they are untrue. Besides, should the question ever become a judicial one, I hold in my hands such _written proofs_, signed by the parties most deeply implicated, as will at once terminate both doubt and litigation. Of this, however, I have at present no apprehensions; for Lucile and her husband are both too honorable to a.s.sail the reputation of the dead, and too rich themselves to attempt to pillage the living.

As it is my wish to be distinctly understood, and at the same time to be exculpated from all blame for the part I myself acted in the drama, the story must commence with my first acquaintance with Mademoiselle Lucile Marmont.

In the spring of 1851, I embarked at New York for Panama, or rather Chagres, on board the steamship "Ohio," Captain Schenck, on my way to the then distant coast of California, attracted hither by the universal desire to acc.u.mulate a rapid fortune, and return at the earliest practicable period to my home, on the Atlantic seaboard.

There were many hundred such pa.s.sengers on the same ship. But little sociability prevailed, until after the steamer left Havana, where it was then the custom to touch on the "outward bound," to obtain a fresh supply of fuel and provisions. We were detained longer than customary at Havana, and most of the pa.s.sengers embraced the opportunity to visit the Bishop's Garden and the tomb of Columbus.

One morning, somewhat earlier than usual, I was standing outside the railing which incloses the monument of the great discoverer, and had just transcribed in my note-book the following epitaph:

"O! Restos y Imagen Del Grande Colon: Mil siglos durad guardados En lare Urna, Y en la Remembranza De Nuestra Nacion,"

when I was suddenly interrupted by a loud scream directly behind me. On turning, I beheld a young lady whom I had seen but once before on the steamer, leaning over the prostrate form of an elderly female, and applying such restoratives as were at hand to resuscitate her, for she had fainted. Seeing me, the daughter exclaimed, "_Oh, Monsieur! y-a-t-il un medecin ici?_" I hastened to the side of the mother, and was about to lift her from the pavement, when M. Marmont himself entered the cathedral. I a.s.sisted him in placing his wife in a _volante_ then pa.s.sing, and she was safely conveyed to the hotel.

Having myself some knowledge of both French and Spanish, and able to converse in either tongue, Lucile Marmont, then sixteen years of age, and I, from that time forward, became close and confidential friends.

The steamer sailed the next day, and in due time anch.o.r.ed off the roadstead of Chagres. But Mme. Marmont, in the last stages of consumption when she embarked at New York, continued extremely ill until we pa.s.sed Point Concepcion, on this coast, when she suddenly expired from an attack of hemorrhage of the lungs.