The Puddleford Papers: or, Humors of the West

Aunt Sonora entered, trembling. – "Dear me! dear me! dear me!" she uttered to herself as she went in; "and so this is really the great caravan; if the animals should get loose – and there – O, there – is that the lion!" she exclaimed involuntarily to those around her, starting back, as she saw the bars of a cage in the distance, – "are them bars iron?" she exclaimed, looking frightened.

"Walk up! walk up!" exclaimed the keeper, as he saw several persons standing back; "the lion is one of the most docile animals we have, ladies and gentlemen; he never bites, ladies and gentlemen; got him in a strong cage; walk up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the li-on, the monarch of the forest, as he is called."

"How his eyeballs glare!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora, disregarding the peaceful proclamation of the keeper, as the great African lion looked up lazily, and brushed a fly from his nose with his fore-paw.

"This African lion, ladies and gentlemen," continued the keeper, "is fourteen years old; was caught in the great jungles of Ethiopia, by throwing a large rope around his neck when he was a-sleeping, ladies and gentlemen; he floundered a good deal, ladies and gentlemen, but he was caught and brought away to the shores of Ameri-ca, where he has been ever since. Nobody need be afear'd, for he never breaks out of his cage, and always minds his keeper. Walk up clo-ser and look at the animal, ladies and gentlemen." Here the keeper struck the iron bars of the cage a heavy blow with a stick which he carried, but the great African lion took no notice of it.

"Don't be skeer'd," exclaimed Mrs. Swipes, who had listened attentively to the assurances of the keeper, addressing herself to Miss Lavinia Longbow, whom she held between herself and the great African lion, as a precaution; "don't be skeer'd, he's one of the most docilest animals in the whole caravan, the keeper says; push along. Don't be skeer'd; go right up to where he is a-lying."

"This," exclaimed Squire Longbow, in a loud tone of voice, to a host of Puddlefordians who had gathered around him for protection; "this is the great lion I tell'd you about; he ain't so large as the one I onct saw down onter the Susquehannas. Can he roar any, Mr. Keeper?" continued the Squire, turning solemnly, and addressing himself to that august personage with his usual dignity.

"He's a perfect roarer, ladies and gentlemen!" answered the keeper; "but the lion don't roar at this time of the year – you don't understand the nater of the animal – he loses his voice during the latter part of the season. You ought to have heard him last spring, when he was in the roaring mood, ladies and gentlemen."

"Bless us!" exclaimed Aunt Sonora.

"Frightened the children half to death," said the keeper.

"The great – African lion," muttered Aunt Sonora.

"But he won't roar now, ladies and gentlemen – walk up, walk up!"

"Com'd from the jungles, I s'pose," inquired the Squire, with much gravity.

"Caught right in a jungle," said the keeper.

"Jest as I told you!" said the Squire, turning around to his friends.

"Has he got claws?" inquired Aunt Sonora.

"Claws!" exclaimed the keeper, looking astonished; "the great – African lion – got claws? Bless you! why he's all claws and teeth; let me show them to you;" and the keeper ran his arm into the cage, in the act of pulling out one of the paws of the ferocious beast; when all Puddleford started with a rush for the door, mingled with screams that were most heart-rending.

"Never mind," said the keeper, who had become affected by the terror around him; "we won't show the lion's claws now."

Order being restored, Mrs. Bird wanted to know why the lion "hadn't got any har?"

"Any what?" inquired the keeper, peering through the crowd to find where the voice came from, and what it said.

"Any har, Mr. Keeper."

"Ah! O, yes – any hair– I see – it is a lady who makes the inquiry. Why the animal hasn't got any hair? Yes, yes, very proper inquiry. We like to answer such questions, or any questions. These animals are great curiosities; and we travel for the instruction of the people. Why the animal hasn't got any hair? Put all the questions you can think of, ladies and gentlemen. The animal hasn't got any hair just now. Well, ladies and gentlemen, he has just shed his coat – the lion is the monarch of the forest —he sheds his coat in the fall of the year, ladies and gentlemen; he's from Africa, where the animals shed their coats at a different season from the animals in this country; and the lion does just as he would do if he were in Africa now, ladies and gentlemen. A very proper question that, ladies and gentlemen; the lion is a wonderful beast – the most wonderful beast, ladies and gentlemen, we have. Any more questions? He has shed his coat, you see; looks bad just now. A sight at the lion alone is worth the whole admission money. Any more questions?"

Mrs. Bird wanted to know of the keeper if he couldn't make him "snap and snarl a little."

As the lion could scarcely stand upon his legs, the request of Mrs. Bird rather took the keeper aback for a moment. But he recovered himself and proceeded. He said he could do it —did do it sometimes – but he didn't like to do it. "You see, ladies and gentlemen, that he is very docile now; resting very quiet; nothing disturbs him; but if he should get once roused up, there is no knowing what he would do; I have stirred him up upon particular request, but I never do it of my own accord, ladies and gentlemen. We don't propose to do any such thing on our bills; we don't like to do such a thing; but we always mean to satisfy the public, ladies and gentlemen." Here the keeper started for a long pole with a sharp spike in the end of it, and returning with it in his hand, announced, "I will now make the great African lion foam and rage, and gnash his teeth."

A scream of terror went up from the whole multitude, filled with broken ejaculations. "Murder!" "Don't!" "Let me out!" "Stop him!" and everybody rushed in the wildest confusion a second time for the door.

The keeper laid down his pole, and calmed the crowd.

The exercises connected with the lion now closed. Turtle took advantage of the interregnum to make an inquiry of his own. He had in his possession the flaming poster that had so long hung at the Eagle, and amused and astonished the Puddlefordians, and slowly unfolding it, he caught the eye of the keeper, as he held it out at full length, and wished to know where "all the monkeys were that were put on to that 'ere bill?"

The keeper pointed to the monkeys' cage, where the three were, still chewing nuts and crackers, and chattering and bobbing from one side to the other.

"Je-hos-a-phat!" exclaimed Turtle, "them ar' ain't these 'ere monkeys – there ain't but three on 'em, nuther, and they ain't climbing trees, as these are – Je-hos-a-phat! – are them your monkeys, Mr. Keeper?"

The keeper said "he would explain. They were the same monkeys that the gentleman found on the bill; the same monkeys in different attitudes. That monkey, for instance, ladies and gentlemen," continued the keeper, pointing his stick at a gray-bearded one in the cage, who was just then intently at work pulling a sliver out of his foot, "that monkey is represented four or five times on the bill in different forms, ladies and gentlemen; jumping here, and climbing there, ladies and gentlemen; and in other places performing those wonderful and curious feats that the monkey only can perform. Will the gentleman show the bill for the benefit of all? (Ike held up the bill over his head.) Now, ladies and gentlemen, look at the bill, and then look at the monkey. These bills are printed for the instruction of the people; it gives them a knowledge of natural history. That monkey can do anything that we have represented on our bill; or, rather, monkeys in their native woods do all these things; but the woods we cannot carry around with us, ladies and gentlemen; and so we give it to you on our bills. (Hold the bill a little higher, if you please, sir.) There you see the monkey as he is – next thing to a man, ladies and gentlemen. Study the monkey; he's an as-ton-ishing animal; very different from the lion there; wherever we go, the mon-keys are admired. Any more questions, ladies and gentlemen?"

Turtle said "he b'lieved he shouldn't ask any more questions."

Bigelow Van Slyck had not yet seen "that wonderful animal mentioned in Holy Writ, and now known as the Ichneumon." He had walked the whole caravan over and over a dozen times, but the Ichneumon was nowhere to be seen.

He inquired, at last, of the keeper, "where he kept his Ichneumon."

"Certainly," answered the keeper in the most amiable manner possible, leading the way to a little cage on the ground, where he had an animal housed about the size of a small dog.

"There," exclaimed the keeper, "is the sacred quadruped now known as the Ichneumon."

Bigelow ran his hands into his breeches-pockets and looked down very reverently upon the little fellow.

"Spoken of in Holy Writ?" repeated Bigelow.

"Often," said the keeper.

"Old Testament, probably," said Bigelow.

"Most probably," replied the keeper.

Bigelow took another long look.

"And he's alive, too," said Bigelow, drawing a long breath.

"But it costs a great deal of money," answered the keeper, "to preserve his life – most expensive animal we have – bathe him in salt water three times a day."

"Mi-rac-ulous!" said Bigelow.

"Treat him very tenderly," continued the keeper; "liable to lose him any moment; cost a great sum; but we don't mind that – it is our business – we will satisfy the public."

Bigelow introduced Mrs. Bird, Mrs. Swipes, and Mrs. Longbow to the Ichneumon, who did not happen to be present and hear the keeper's remarks, and repeated in low breath the information which he had just derived, with suitable and appropriate remarks of his own. For his part, he said, he was paid. He had seen the sacred animal called the Ichneumon; and he managed to weave him into a sermon which he preached some weeks afterwards, in which he identified him as clearly as he did when inspecting the poster at the Eagle.

Jim Buzzard was present during all the exercises. He crawled in under the canvas at rather a late hour, but appeared in time to see all that was to be seen. He made very few comments upon the animals. He took a very long look at the elephant, who seemed to just strike his fancy. Jim was a picture, and so was the elephant. As he stood in rags gaping at the monster, it seemed as if he was magnetized to the ground. He examined him up and down, looked under him, and over him, and at last, after having digested all there was about him, he scratched his head and said, "O, Gosh!"

But all things must have an end, and the grand caravan, in time, came to its end. The last performance, which was intended as the climax to the whole day's proceedings, and which had been looked forward to by the Puddlefordians with the most enthusiastic feeling, was the "ostrich and monkey ride." The poster had painted this affair in shining colors, and it was finally announced by the keeper, amid a tempest of applause. It is not in my power to describe this ride. The monkey rode the ostrich, as promised, carrying a whip in his hand – and then the monkey took another round on the ostrich, carrying something else – and then again and again, each time under renewed and stronger vociferations from the multitude, until I really began to think that the monkey and ostrich were certain to transport the crowd into hysterics, and cover themselves with immortal glory.

When the afternoon shadows began to lengthen over the green, the tent, which had so recently gone up by magic, as suddenly dissolved, and the people dissolved too. The show was over, and there were scores of people who were twenty or thirty miles from home, jaded and nearly out of money. Puddleford was in an uproar in the general preparation for a departure. The showmen were packing their monkeys, ostrich, and ichneumon, temporarily hobbling their elephant, and counting up the proceeds of the day, and making ready for a fresh swindle upon some adjacent town. The women were dealing out gingerbread to squalling children to fortify their stomachs against the journey of the night. The men were settling up their bills at the Eagle; and all was bustle and commotion.

Aunt Sonora hurried home and "took a nap;" she had passed such a day; "was," as she said, "nearly killed in the morning, and skeer'd to death in the arternoon, that it seemed as if she should fly off the handle; her head danc'd round like a top; see if they could catch her at any more of their powwows; their lions and their monkeys might go to grass, for all her; she'd not look at 'em agin; that's what she wouldn't – there warn't nothin' so grand 'bout 'em, arter all, as folks tell'd on – she wouldn't use up herself agin for any such strolling critters – not she."

The procession formed in a line, just at twilight, to take its farewell. A knot of urchins, and twenty or more Puddlefordians, were all that were left of the pride and pomp of the morning to see them safely on their way. The band struck up a lively air, the wagons moved forward, and soon had wound away out of sight; and all settled down again into the most profound tranquillity.

CHAPTER XXIV

The Tinkhams arrive. – Great Stir. – Miss Lavinia Longbow's Head is turned. – Everybody in Love with the Tinkhams. – Wind changes. – The Tinkhams fall. – The whole Pack out on them. – They abandon the Settlement.

It is remarkable how the people of a new country run in fixed channels of thought and action. That this is true of an old one where ages have hardened down and vitrified a long train of habits, is not so wonderful. Puddleford was in the gristle, it was true, and had not as yet made any permanent development. But even in its gristle, it had its laws – temporary, of course, but laws, nevertheless, which were as unbending as iron, while they lasted.

No person was permitted to outstrip his neighbor in any of the luxuries or refinements of social life. Any attempt at such a piece of ambition was regarded as a kind of premeditated insult upon the whole town. It was never for a moment supposed that a Puddlefordian could act without some hidden motive, maliciously directed against those who were not in any way connected with his personal affairs. The pride of a new country is most marvellous. The less wealth, or the less education, or the less of the luxuries of life, which such a people may possess, the more tender they are upon those very deprivations. In one sense, again, not a particle of pride could be found lingering in all Puddleford. This pride was the source of the most unrelenting jealousy.

Mrs. Longbow never bought a new calico without being agitated. She knew that not only the calico, but herself, too, in connection with such a bold enterprise, must necessarily pass in review before all the women of the place. And she also knew that not unfrequently it happened that very improper motives were attributed. The calico might have been purchased to cast a slur upon some one else – a way taken by her to "let people know what some folks could do, and what other people could not do," – a kind of open triumph, maliciously intended to humble the pride, and sneer at the poverty of another, who dare not venture upon such an outlay of money – and Mrs. Longbow knew and felt that it was as much as her reputation was worth to appear for the first time in public in such a garment – for Mrs. Swipes or Mrs. Bird would be sure to declare that "she did it on purpos' jist to insult her."

Immigrants, who settled in Puddleford, felt the force of this social law very forcibly. Mr. Tinkham and family came in and took up their residence. Mr. Tinkham was a small merchant, and hailed from a small eastern village, and brought in his train a wife, one son, and two daughters – Mr. Howard Tinkham, Miss Jenet Tinkham, and Miss Mary Tinkham – old enough all for society. They were a very plain family, had been educated in a very plain way, and were very unpretending in their deportment. "Old Mr. Tinkham," as he was called, was on the downhill side of life, and was fast running into the shadows of the valley; and "Old Mrs. Tinkham" was not very far behind him. They had immigrated for the benefit of their children – made themselves miserable from a philanthropic desire to make somebody else happy – had buried all the associations, comforts, and joys of their lives, to linger out an unnatural existence in the West.

When Mr. Tinkham and his family came on, Puddleford was overflowing with enthusiasm. Indeed, their anticipated arrival was heralded by all hands long before they made their appearance, and their "means," personal history, politics, and religion were well known weeks in advance. The accession of a new family was a great event in Puddleford – and well it might be – for it was a rare event to find any one bold enough to settle down in the village – and it usually turned out to be as great an event to the individual who settled, as those whom he settled among.

There was a general uprising to receive Mr. Tinkham – it did not seem possible to do enough for Mr. Tinkham – he was from the very first completely run down, crushed, and smothered with attention – all the women offered their services in any and every way to Mr. Tinkham, and to Mrs. Tinkham, and Mr. Howard Tinkham, and Miss Jenet Tinkham, and Miss Mary Tinkham – one ran this way to do this, and another that way to do that – sometimes two or three female Puddlefordians would insist upon performing the same act for Mrs. Tinkham, which not unfrequently resulted in hard words and red faces among themselves, for their kindness was so impulsive and excessive, that it was not possible for them to restrain it, as long as the Tinkham fever lasted.

The Tinkhams thought that they had been very much underrated, or very much overrated. They were positively delighted with the spontaneous attention of the Puddlefordians – and yet, as has been stated, the Tinkhams were a plain people, not subject to any fashionable flights, nor haughty airs, nor had they ever demanded or received much notice before, and they could only account for the novel exhibitions of hospitality of their new acquaintances by supposing it was "their way," and that they were no exception to a general rule.

Miss Lavinia Longbow, who was decidedly one of the fashionable "upper crust" of society – for every society has its "upper crust" – and who was the daughter of Squire Longbow, which of itself was all-sufficient to fix her social position – Miss Lavinia Longbow almost went into ecstasies over Mr. Howard Tinkham the first time she saw him.

She declared that "he was the splendidest man she ever see'd – that she thought that Jim Barton was something of a feller once – but, O, pshaw! he warn't nothin'. Mr. Howard Tinkham had such a poetical eye, and such tap'rin' hands, and then he was so much slimmer-er than Jim Barton, and he walked off so peert like – and then he talked so bu-tiful – all about the Venuses, and the God-es-es, and she did not know how many more things, that she never heer'd of afore in all her born days. Jim Barton didn't know nothin' 'bout anything – he couldn't say boo afore Mr. Howard Tinkham – he was sich a man, Mr. Howard Tinkham was – he know'd everything – how many pretty stories he had told her – O, pshaw! talk about Jim Barton."

Miss Lavinia ran on in the most extravagant terms, at all times and places, about Mr. Howard Tinkham, and she positively refused to speak to, or notice Jim Barton, for six months after Tinkham came in.

Mrs. Swipes, Bird, Longbow, Aunt Sonora, and all were bewitched with Mrs. Tinkham. Mrs. Swipes presented Mrs. Tinkham with a dried-apple pie within an hour after her arrival, at the same time informing her that "it would come right handy while they were putting things to rights – and that if there was anything else – any – thing – no matter what – that she had in her house, to come over and take it right away, and ask no questions. She wanted her to be at home in her house, jist as long as they liv'd in Puddleford."

Mrs. Tinkham thought Mrs. Swipes was a very accommodating woman.

Mrs. Longbow sent a ham – Mrs. Bird a loaf of "Injun," as she called it – and as Mrs. Swipes knew what Mrs. Longbow had sent, and as Mrs. Longbow ascertained what Mrs. Swipes had sent, and as Mrs. Bird discovered by inquiry "round about," what they both sent, and as the rest of the Puddleford ladies made it their business to know what they all had sent, and as they were determined not to be outdone by the upper crust, who they declared were no better than they were, and couldn't do any more than they could do, the consequence was that the Tinkhams began to think that they had reached the promised land, and that the windows of Heaven were opened, and showering down blessings broadcast upon them.

The Tinkhams were in raptures with Puddleford. Mrs. Swipes called two or three times a day to know how they got along – to know if Mary Jane Arabella could not come in and "chore around a little while they were settlin'" – that she know'd what it was "to get fix'd" – to know if "there warn't sumthin' she could do."

Mrs. Longbow was very anxious to find out "when Mrs. Tinkham could come over and spend a sociable afternoon – it seemed as if she couldn't wait."

Mrs. Bird declared that "she would have the first visit – that she'd say flat-footed."

The Tinkhams were certainly very much in love with Puddleford. They had positively never seen anything like it. The impression which they had made exceeded all their expectations. They did not see how they could ever repay the manifestations of its people.

But this paroxysm of attention in time passed away. The Tinkhams in time – and in a very short time, too – fell from their high position. Mrs. Tinkham did call first upon Mrs. Longbow, and she and all the other Tinkhams were ruined from that day.

Mrs. Bird then declared "she just began to see what they were" – she blazed out with all her fires, and showered down her red-hot lava upon the Tinkhams, both great and small. She "had a lurkin' kinder suspicion all the time that they warn't much" – she said "she meant to treat 'em decently, and she had treated 'em decently – she and Mary Jane didn't do nothin' but run for 'em all the time, when they fust cum – and now this was her thanks for't – this was what she got —this was her pay – she'd tell the whole pile on 'em what she thought, some day – she'd give 'em a piece of her mind – she'd show 'em what Sall Bird could do – they'd find her out – they couldn't tromp onter her – jest – to – think – after all said and done – that the huzzy went straight over and call'd fust on Mrs. Longbow – on Mrs. Longbow – yes, old Squire Longbow's second wife —old Aunt Graves, and nobody else – who I've know'd fust and last these twenty years – and no good of her nuther – to think of it! to think! —only to think!"

This little explosion went off in the presence of Mrs. Swipes, who had been as deeply injured by this "call" as Mrs. Bird, and Mrs. Bird knew it.

Mrs. Swipes declared "that while she was the last woman on the face of the airth to injure anybody, or talk 'bout anybody, that was well known, she couldn't help lettin' out on the Tinkhams – she couldn't! she'd tried it, but she felt it her duty to do it – and she would do it, and she'd do it now, – she thought she saw sumthin' —sumthin' a-nuther – 'bout that Mrs. Tinkham, the fust day that they came inter the settlement, that warn't right – she didn't like her eye – there was a certain sort-of-er-look there – and she might as well say it right out, it looked wicked to her – wicked as Cain – she told Mr. Swipes then that she believed that she was a dang-rous woman – but she was detarmined to try her, for she was a person who allers tried everybody – she gin everybody a chance – she didn't cry down nobody, she didn't – she warn't a-goin' to – 'twas agin her principles to do so – but when she did find people out – and she allers did —allers– sooner or la-ter – sum time or a-nuther – she was sure to find 'em out, then they'd got ter take a piece of her mind – and she had found the Tinkhams out, and she thought the Tinkhams warn't any great shakes – that's what she thought."

"Jest my mind exactly!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird, who had listened with great attention, with her eyes staring, and her mouth open, so she could not lose a word.

"Nor warn't any great shakes where they com'd from," added Mrs. Swipes; "that I've larned for true, and I know it."

"Nor never will be any great shakes," continued Mrs. Bird, "anywhere – never! never!"

"From the old man down," said Mrs. Swipes.

"Yes! from the old man down," repeated Mrs. Bird.

Aunt Sonora, who was very "set in her way," and a great stickler for the old order of things, was, nevertheless, not naturally malicious. She thought the Tinkhams, however, "were getting mighty stuck up," and that the "gals put on the dref'ellest sight of airs" – "she didn't think Puddleford could hold 'em long – people who ate sales-molasses for common, and bought fresh every day, must have a long purse or they'd bust" – she said "she was very sure that Mr. Howard Tinkham wore broadcloth; and as for the women-folks, why, they were flarin' out all the while in their silks – and laws-a-me," said the old lady, "they hain't got such a killin' sight to be proud of nuther – if they had, she didn't know where they kept it, for her part."

The Tinkhams found themselves in hot water on every side – and simply for the reason that Mrs. Tinkham had made her first call on Mrs. Longbow. But Mrs. Tinkham could not have escaped her fate – that was not possible; if she had selected any other of her devoted friends, the result would have been precisely the same.

In four weeks from the time the Tinkhams had been received with such demonstrations of affection, it was discovered, —

That Mrs. Bird did not speak to Mrs. Tinkham;

That Mrs. Swipes did not speak to Mrs. Tinkham;

That Mrs. Beagle did not speak to Mrs. Tinkham;

That a very great many other persons who did not speak to Mrs. Bird, Swipes, or Beagle, did not speak to Mrs. Tinkham.

Mr. and Mrs. Tinkham found that they had come in conflict with public opinion in Puddleford – they were completely driven out from society.

The social war soon extended itself further. The Bird clique would not trade at Mr. Tinkham's store. Mrs. Bird declared "that she wouldn't have nothing at all to do with 'em no way – not the fust thing – she wouldn't darken any of their doors, and they shouldn't darken hers – not a Tinkham should enter her front gate —she'd larn 'em, that's what she would." Mrs. Swipes and Mrs. Beagle agreed to the same thing – the Tinkhams shouldn't darken their doors, nuther. Mrs. Bird said she wouldn't go where the Tinkhams went. Mrs. Swipes and Mrs. Beagle thereupon agreed that they wouldn't go where the Tinkhams went – and the lesser lights that revolved around Mrs. Bird, Swipes, and Beagle, agreed that they wouldn't "nuther."

The Tinkhams were obliged to draw their business to a close, and leave the land of their adoption. They did not understand the social law of the country. They were seen, early one morning, wending their way out of the village, solitary, yet not sad, without pomp or parade, their faces to the rising sun, retracing their steps back to the land which they had left, wiser, if not better, we trust, with a fixed determination to "let well enough alone" during the remainder of their lives, and never again give "a bird in the hand for (none) in the bush."

Puddleford experienced no more spasms from a disturbance of its social equilibrium for a long time; not until the Styles family came in many years afterwards, and overturned the whole order of things, and established upon the ruins an entirely new government.