The Book Of The Bush - George Dunderdale (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗
- Author: George Dunderdale
Book online «The Book Of The Bush - George Dunderdale (tharntype novel english .txt) 📗». Author George Dunderdale
MERCHANT OF PHILADELPHIA, WHO WAS LIKEWISE A MEMBER OF THE SOCIETY OF
FRIENDS. THE VISITOR, ON ENTERING THE PARLOR, WAS SURPRISED TO SEE IT
ORNAMENTED WITH DRAWINGS OF INDIAN CHIEFS
In That Way Mr. Rogers Washed His Hands Of Me. I Said I Was Sorry I
Did Not Please The Ladies, But I Liked To Hear A Man Who Spoke His
Mind Freely.
Soon Afterwards The Germans Brought Me Word That The Yankees Were
Calling A Meeting About Me. I Was Aware By This Time That When A
Special Gathering Of Citizens Takes Place To Discuss The Demerits Of
Any Individual, It Is Advisable For That Individual To Be Absent If
Possible; But Curiosity Was Strong Within Me; Hitherto I Had Never
Been Honoured With Any Public Notice Whatever, And I Attended The
Meeting Uninvited.
The Yankees Are Excellent Orators; They Are Born Without Bashfulness;
They Are Taught To Speak Pieces In School From Their Childhood; They
Pronounce Each Word Distinctly; They Use Correctly The Rising
Inflection And The Falling Inflection. Moreover, They Are Always In
Deadly Earnest; There Is Another Miserable World Awaiting Their
Arrival. Their Humorists Are The Most Unhappy Of Men. You May Smile
When You Read Their Jokes, But When You See The Jokers You Are More
Inclined To Weep. With Pain And Sorrow They Grind, Like Samson, At
The Jokers' Mill All The Days Of Their Lives.
The Meeting Was Held In The New Two-Storey School-House.
Deacon Beaumont Took The Chair--My Chair--And Mr Curtis Was
Appointed Secretary. I Began To Hate Deacon Beaumont, As Also Mr.
Curtis, Who Was The Only Other Teacher Present; It Was Evident They
Were Going To Put Him In My Place.
Each Speaker On Rising Put His Left Hand In The Side Pocket Of His
Story 3 (Discovery Of The River Hopkins.) Pg 46Pants. I Was Not Mentioned By Name, But Nevertheless I Was Given
Clearly To Understand That I Had Been Reared In A Land Whose People
Are Under The Dominion Of A Tyrannical Monarch And A Bloated
Aristocracy; That Therefore I Had Never Breathed The Pure Air Of
Freedom, And Was Unfitted To Teach The Children Of The Great Republic.
Mr. Tucker, An Influential Citizen, Moved Finally That The School
Managers Be Instructed To Engage A Mr. Sellars, Of Dresden, As
Teacher At The West Joliet School. He Said Mr. Sellars Was A Young
Man From New England Who Had Been Teaching For A Term At Dresden, And
Had Given Great Satisfaction. He Had The Best Testimony To The
Character And Ability Of The Young Man From His Own Daughter, Miss
Priscilla Tucker, Who Had Been School Marm In The Same School, And
Was Now Home On A Visit. She Could Give, From Her Own Personal
Knowledge, Any Information The Managers Might Require.
Mr. Tucker's Motion Was Seconded. There Was No Amendment Proposed,
And All In Favour Of The Motion Were Requested By Deacon Beaumont To
Stand Up. The Yankees All Rose To Their Feet, The Others Sat Still,
All But Old Gorges, A Prussian, Who, With His Two Sons, Had Come To
Vote For Me. But The Old Man Did Not Understand English. His Son
John Pulled Him Down, But Deacon Beaumont Had Counted His Vote, And
The Motion Was Carried By A Majority Of One. So I Was, In Fact, Put
Out Of The School By My Best Friend, Old Gorges.
I Went Away In A Dudgeon And Marked Off A Cellar On My Real Estate,
30 Feet By 18 Feet, On The Top Of The Bluff, Near The Edge Of The
Western Prairie. The Ground Was A Mixture Of Stiff Clay And
Limestone Rock, And I Dug At It All Through The Month Of September.
Curious People Came Along And Made Various Remarks; Some Said
Nothing, But Went Away Whistling. One Day Mr. Jackson And Paul
Duffendorff Were Passing By, And I Wanted Them To Pass, But They
Stopped Like The Rest. Mr. Jackson Was Reckoned One Of The Smartest
Men In Will County. He Had A Large Farm, Well Stocked, But He Was
Never Known To Do Any Work Except With His Brains. He Was One Of
Those Men Who Increased The Income Of The State Of Illinois By
Ability. Duffendorf Was A Huge Dutchman, Nearly Seven Feet In
Height. He Was A Great Friend Of Mine, Great Every Way, But Very
Stupid; He Had No Sense Of Refinement. He Said:
"Ve Gates, Schoolmeister? Py Golly! Here, Mr. Shackson, Is Our
Schoolmeister A Vurkin Mit Spade And Bick. How Vas You Like Dat
Kind Of Vurk, Mr. Shackson?"
"Never Could Be Such A Darned Fool; Sooner Steal," Answered Jackson.
Duffendorf Laughed Until He Nearly Fell Into The Cellar. Now This
Talk Was Very Offensive. I Knew Mr. Jackson Was Defendant In A Case
Then Pending. He Had Been Charged With Conspiring To Defraud; With
Having Stolen Three Horses; With Illegally Detaining Seventy-Five
Dollars; And On Other Counts Which I Cannot Remember Just Now. The
Thing Was Originally Very Simple, Even Duffendorff Could Understand
It.
Story 3 (Discovery Of The River Hopkins.) Pg 47
Mr. Jackson Was In Want Of Some Ready Money, So He Directed His Hired
Man To Steal Three Of His Horses In The Dead Of Night, Take Them To
Chicago, Sell Them To The Highest Bidder, Find Out Where The Highest
Bidder Lived, And Then Return With The Cash To Joliet. The Hired Man
Did His Part Of The Business Faithfully, Returned And Reported To His
Employer. Then Mr. Jackson Set Out In Search Of His Stolen Horses,
Found Them, And Brought Them Home. The Man Expected To Receive Half
The Profits Of The Enterprise. The Boss Demurred, And Only Offered
One-Third, And Said If That Was Not Satisfactory He Would Bring A
Charge Of Horse-Stealing. The Case Went Into Court, And Under The
Treatment Of Learned Counsel Grew Very Complicated. It Was
Remarkable As Being The Only One On Record In Will County In Which A
Man Had Made Money By Stealing His Own Horses. It Is, I Fancy, Still
'Sub Judice'.
Both The Old School And The New School Remained Closed Even After The
Cholera Ceased To Thin Out The Citizens, But I Felt No Further
Interest In The Education Of Youth. When Winter Came I Tramped Three
Miles Into The Forest, And Began To Fell Trees And Split Rails In
Order To Fence In My Suburban Estate. For Some Time I Carried A
Rifle, And Besides Various Small Game I Shot Two Deer, But Neither Of
Them Would Wait For Me To Come Up With Them Even After I Had Shot
Them; They Took My Two Bullets Away With Them, And Left Me Only A Few
Drops Of Blood On The Snow; Then I Left The Rifle At Home. For About
Four Months The Ground Was Covered With Snow, And The Cold Was
Intense, But I Continued Splitting Until The Snakes Came Out To Bask
In The Sun And Warm Themselves. I Saw Near A Dead Log Eight Coiled
Together, And I Killed Them All. The Juice Of The Sugar Maples Began
To Run. I Cut Notches In The Bark In The Shape Of A Broad Arrow,
Bored A Hole At The Point, Inserted A Short Spout Of Bark, And On
Sunny Mornings The Juice Flowed In A Regular Stream, Clear And
Sparkling; On Cloudy Days It Only Dropped.
One Evening As I Was Plodding My Weary Way Homeward, I Looked Up And
Saw In The Distance A Man Inspecting My Cellar. I Said, "Here's
Another Disgusting Fool Who Ain't Seen It Before." It Certainly Was
A Peculiar Cellar, But Not Worth Looking At So Much. I Hated The
Sight Of It. It Had No Building Over It, Never Was Roofed In, And
Was Sometimes Full Of Snow.
The Other Fool Proved To Be Mr. Curtis, The Teacher Who Had Written
The Resolution Of The Meeting Which Voted Me Out Of The School. He
Held Out His Hand, And I Took It, But Reluctantly, And Under Secret
Protest. I Thought To Myself, "This Mine Enemy Has An Axe To Grind,
Or He Would Not Be Here. I'll Be On My Guard."
"I Have Been Waiting For You Some Time," Said Mr. Curtis. "I Was
Told You Were Splitting Rails In The Forest, And Would Be Home About
Sundown. I Wanted To See You About Opening School Again. Mr. Rogers
Won't Have Anything To Say To It, But The Other Two Managers, Mr.
Strong And Mr. Demmond, Want To Engage You And Me, One To Teach In
The Upper Storey Of The School, The Other Down Below, And I Came Up
To Ask You To See Them About It."
Story 3 (Discovery Of The River Hopkins.) Pg 48
"How Does It Happen That Mr. Sellars Has Not Come Over From Dresden?"
I Said.
"Joliet Is About The Last Place On This Earth That Mr. Sellars Will
Come To. Didn't You Hear About Him And Priscilla?" Asked Mr. Curtis.
"No, I Heard Nothing Since That Meeting; Only Saw The School Doors
Were Closed Every Time I Passed That Way."
"Well, I Am Surprised. I Thought Everybody Knew By This Time, Though
We Did Not Like To Say Much About It."
I Began To Feel Interested. Mr. Curtis Had Something Pleasant To
Tell Me About The Misfortunes Of My Enemies, So I Listened
Attentively.
It Was A Tale Of Western Love, And Its Course Was No Smoother In
Illinois Than In Any Less Enlightened Country Of Old Europe. Miss
Priscilla Reckoned She Could Hoe Her Own Row. She And Mr. Sellars
Conducted The Common School At Dresden With Great Success And
Harmony. All Went Merry As A Marriage Bell, And The Marriage Was To
Come Off By-And-By--So Hoped Miss Priscilla. During The Recess She
Took The Teacher's Arm, And They Walked To And Fro Lovingly. All
Dresden Said It Was To Be A Match, But At The End Of The Term Miss
Priscilla Returned To Joliet--The Match Was Not Yet Made.
It Was At This Time That The Dissatisfaction With The New British
Teacher Became Extreme; Miss Priscilla Fanned The Flame Of
Discontent. She Did Not "Let Concealment Like A Worm I' Th' Bud Feed
On Her Damask Cheek," But Boldly Proposed That Mr. Sellars--A
True-Born Native Of New England, A Good Young Man, Always Seen At
Meetings On The Sabbath--Should Be Requested To Take Charge Of The
West Joliet School. So The Meeting Was Held: I Was Voted Out, Mr.
Sellars Was Voted In, And The Daughters Of The Puritans Triumphed.
Miss Priscilla Wrote To Dresden, Announcing To Her Beloved The
Success
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