Life in the Clearings versus the Bush Part 11

What berth are you goin' to take?"

I pointed to No. 4.

"Then," said he, "would you have any objection to my locating in the one above you, as I feel a _leetle afear'd?_ It is so awful dark out-doors, and the clouds look tre-mend-ous black, as if they'd be a-pourin' all night. The reason why I prefer the upper berth is this,"

he continued confidentially; "if we should fall in with a storm, and all go to the bottom, I should have a better chance of saving myself. But mind you, if she should sink I will give you half of my berth, if you'll come up."

I thanked him for his offer, and not being at all apprehensive, I told him that I preferred staying where I was. Soon after I retired, hoping to sleep, but I had not calculated on the powers of annoyance possessed by my quondam friend. I had just laid myself comfortably down, when I felt one of his huge feet on the side of my berth. Looking out, I espied him crawling up on all-fours to his place of security for the night. His head had scarcely touched the pillow before he commenced telling me some long yarn; but I begged him, in no very gentle tone, to hold on till the morning, as I had a very severe headache, and wanted to go to sleep.

I had fallen into a sort of doze, when I thought I heard some one talking in a low voice close to my ear. I started into a sitting posture, and listened a moment. It was pitch dark; I could see nothing.

I soon, however, discovered that the mysterious sounds proceeded from the berth above me. It was my friend reciting, either for my amus.e.m.e.nt or his own, the poem he had favoured me with in the morning. He was apparently nearly asleep, and he drawled the half-uttered sentences through his nose in the most ludicrous manner. He was recapitulating the disastrous condition of Mr. Cadoga:--

"There was Mister Ca-do-ga--in years a-bud-- Next morning--tew--feet--mud-- He strove--he--but--in vain; The more he fell--down--he got up--a-g-a-in.

Ri--tu--ri--tu."

Here followed a tremendous snore, and I burst into a prolonged fit of laughter, which fortunately did not put a stop to the sonorous ba.s.s of my companion overhead, whose snoring I considered far more tolerable than his conversation.

Just at this moment the boat struck the bank, which it frequently does of a very dark night, which gave the vessel such a shock, that it broke the cords that secured the poet's bed to the beam above, and down he came, head foremost, to the floor. This accident occasioned me no small discomfort, as he nearly took my berth with him. It was fortunate for me that I was awake, or he might have killed me in his descent; as it was, I had only time to throw myself back, when he rushed past me with the speed of an avalanche, carrying bed and bed-clothes with him in one confused heap; and there he lay upon the floor, rolling and roaring like some wild beast caught in a net.

"Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wonder where I is; what a tre-men-dous storm--what a dreadful night--not a soul can be saved,--I knew it--I dreampt it all.

Oh Lord! we shall all go to the bottom, and find eternity there--Captain captain--where be we?"

Here a child belonging to one of the pa.s.sengers, awakened by his bellowing, began to cry.

"Oh, dear! Some one else sinking.--Captain--captain--confound him!

I s'pose he's drownded, like the rest. Thank heaven! here's something to hold on to, to keep me from sinking;" and, clutching at the table in the dark, he upset it, and broke the large lamp that had been left upon it.

Down came the broken gla.s.s upon him in a shower which, doubtless, he took for the waves breaking over him, for he raised such a clatter with his hands and feet, and uttered such doleful screams, that the pa.s.sengers started simultaneously from their sleep,--

"What's the matter? is that man mad or drunk?" exclaimed several voices.

The gentleman beneath the bed-clothes again groaned forth,--"We are all lost. If I once get upon dry land, you'll never catch me in a ca.n.a.l-boat agin."

Pitying his distress I got up, groped my way to the steward's berth, and succeeded in procuring a light. When I returned to the cabin, I found the poet lying on the floor, with the table upon him, and he holding it fast with both hands, crying vehemently, "I will never let go. I will hang on to the last."

"You are dreaming," said I; "come, get up. The cords of your bed were not strong enough to hold you, and you have got a tumble on to the floor; nothing else is the matter with you."

As I ceased speaking the vessel again struck the bank, and my friend, in his eagerness to save himself, upset me, light and all. I again upset all the small pieces of furniture in my reach, to the great amus.e.m.e.nt of the pa.s.sengers, who were sitting up in their berths listening to; and laughing at our conversation. We were all once more in the dark, and I can a.s.sure my readers that my situation was everything but comfortable, as the eccentric gentleman had hold of both my legs.

"You foolish fellow," cried I, kicking with all my might to free myself.

"There is no harm done; the boat has only struck again upon the bank."

"Where is the bank?" said he, still labouring under the delusion that he was in the water. "Give me a hold on it. If I can only get on the bank I shall be safe."

Finding it impossible to convince him how matters really stood, I left him to unroll himself to his full dimensions on the floor, and groping my way to a sofa, laid myself down once more to sleep.

When the pa.s.sengers met at the breakfast-table, the poor poet and his misfortunes during the night gave rise to much quizzing and merriment, particularly when he made his appearance with a black eye, and the skin rubbed off the tip of his nose.

One gentleman, who was most active in teasing him, cried out to me,--"Mr. H---, do try and set last night's adventures to music, and sing them this evening at your concert. They would make a _tre-men-dous sensation_, I a.s.sure you."

The poet looked daggers at us, and seizing his carpet-bag, sprang to the deck, and from the deck to the sh.o.r.e, which he fortunately reached in safety, without casting a parting glance at his tormentors.

The Mountain Air.

"Rave not to me of your sparkling wine; Bid not for me the goblet shine; My soul is athirst for a draught more rare, A gush of the pure, fresh mountain air!

"It wafts on its currents the rich perfume Of the purple heath, and the honied broom; The golden furze, and the hawthorn fair, Shed all their sweets to the mountain air.

"It plays round the bank and the mossy stone, Where the violet droops like a nun alone; Shrouding her eyes from the noon-tide glare, But breathing her soul to the mountain-air.

"It gives to my spirits a tone of mirth-- I bound with joy o'er the new-dress'd earth, When spring has scatter'd her blossoms there, And laden with balm the mountain air.

"From nature's fountain my nectar flows, 'Tis the essence of each sweet bud that blows; Then come, and with me the banquet share, Let us breathe together the mountain air!"

CHAPTER VI

The Singing Master

The Singing-School.

"Conceit's an excellent great-coat, and sticks Close to the wearer for his mortal life; It has no spot nor wrinkle in his eyes, And quite cuts out the coats of other men."

S.M.

"He had a fiddle sadly out of tune, A voice as husky as a raven croaking, Or owlet hooting to the clouded moon, Or bloated bull-frog in some mud-hole choking."

During my professional journies through the country, I have often had the curiosity to visit the singing-schools in the small towns and villages through which I pa.s.sed. These are often taught by persons who are perfectly ignorant of the common rules of music--men who have followed the plough all their lives, and know about as much of the divine science they pretend to teach as one of their oxen.

I have often been amused at their manner of explaining the principles of their art to their pupils, who profit so little by their instructions, that they are as wise at the end of their quarter as when they began.

The master usually endeavours to impress upon them the importance of making themselves heard, and calls him the smartest fellow who is able to make the most noise. The constant vibration they keep up through their noses gives you the idea that their teacher has been in the habit of raising sheep, and had caught many of their peculiar notes. This style he very kindly imparts to his pupils; and as apt scholars generally try to imitate their master, choirs taught by these individuals resemble a flock of sheep going bahing one after another over a wall.

I will give you a specimen of one of these schools, that I happened to visit during my stay in the town of W---, in the western states. I do not mean to say that all music masters are like the one I am about to describe, but he bears a very close resemblance to a great many of the same calling, who practise their profession in remote settlements, where they are not likely to find many to criticise their performance.

I had advertised a concert for the 2nd of January, 1848, to be given in the town of W---. I arrived on the day appointed, and fortunately made the acquaintance of several gentlemen amateurs, who happened to be boarding at the hotel to which I had been recommended. They kindly manifested a lively interest in my success, and promised to do all in their power to procure me a good house.

While seated at dinner, one of my new friends received a note, which he said came from a singing master residing in a small village a few miles back of W---. After reading the epistle, and laughing heartily over its contents, he gave it to me. To my great astonishment it ran as follows:--

"My Dear Roberts,

"How do you do? I hope you will excuse me for troubling you on this occasion; but I want to ax you a partic'lar question. Is you acquainted with the man who is a-goin' to give a sing in your town to-night? If you be, jist say to him, from me, that if he will come over here, we will get him up a house. If he will--or won't c.u.m--please let me know. I am teaching a singing-school over here, and I can do a great deal for him, if he will only c.u.m.

"Yours, most respectfully, "John Browne."

"You had better go, Mr. H---," said Roberts. "This John Browne is a queer chap, and I promise you lots of fun. If you decide upon going we will all accompany you, and help to fill your house."

"By all means," said I. "You will do me a great favour to return an answer to the professional gentleman to that effect. I will send him some of my programmes, and if he can get a tolerable piano, I will go over and give them a concert next Sat.u.r.day evening."