The Humors of Falconbridge Part 24

Old Maguire and his Horse Bonny Doon.

Few animals possess the sagacity of the horse; pa.s.sive and obedient, they are easily trained; bring them up the way you want them to go, and they'll go it! The horse in his old age does not forget the precepts of his youth. A very touching anecdote is told of a horse, in the cavalry service of the British army, during Napoleon's time. After the battle of Waterloo, when the combined force of Europe, through chicanery--not valor--defeated the greatest soldier the world ever saw, the British army was cut down, rank and file--Napoleon having promised to "be a good boy," and let 'em alone in future. Among the _cut offs_, was a troop of horse, and in this troop was an old veteran Bucephalus, who had stood and made charges, smelt fire and brimstone, faced phalanxes of bayonets, and clashed rough-shod over many b.l.o.o.d.y fields, besides Waterloo,--this old fellow was turned out to gra.s.s--cas.h.i.+ered. When the balance of his retained companions in saddle were leaving the town where the dismemberment had taken place, the old war horse was quietly grazing in a field; the troop pa.s.sed--the bugler "sounded his horn," and in less than forty winks the old old horse was up, off, over fences, and in the front ranks! The tenacity with which he clung to his place in the column caused--says the historian--the officers and men to shed tears.

So much by way of a prelude. Now for old Maguire and his horse. Some years ago, in the interior of Ohio, there did live an old Irish jintleman, who not only had a fine estate, but likewise a saw-mill, and as fine an old black mare as ever the rays of a noonday's sun lit down upon. "Bonny Doon," Maguire's old mare, was a wonderful "critter;" she opened gates, let down bars, seized the pump handle by her teeth, and actually extracted water from the barn-yard well, with all the facility of a regular double-fisted _genus h.o.m.o_. As a sly old joker, she had performed various tricks, such as nipping off the tails of sucking calves, catching chickens in her manger, and making various pieces of them, and kicking in the ribs of strange dogs and horned cattle. But to the eccentric habits and baccha.n.a.lian customs of her ex-military master, the old mare's dormant talents owed their "fetching out."

Old "Captain Maguire" had served with credit to himself and honor to the State, in her early struggles against the Indians and French Canadians.

"Bonny Doon" was then in her "fille"-hood, and probably the most beautiful, as well as the most saucy jade, in the frontier army. Some twenty-five years had pa.s.sed, and still the old captain and the mare were about, every-day cronies, for the old man no more thought of walking fifty rods, premeditatedly, than a South Carolina dandy would dream of the possibility of getting a gla.s.s of water without the immediate a.s.sistance of a son of Ethiopia! The old man had become possessed of wealth as well as years--was likewise the progenitor of a large and flouris.h.i.+ng family, of the finest looking men and women in the State, and having gotten all things in this pleasant kind of train, he "laid off" in perfect lavender. The old captain's farm was about four miles from the large and flouris.h.i.+ng town of Z----, and here the captain spent most of his time. Riding in on "Bonny Doon," in the morning, and hitching her to the sign-post, the poor beast would stand there--unless taken in by the ostler or others--until midnight, while the captain swigged whiskey, and smoked his pipe in the tavern. Yet "Bonny Doon's"

affection for her old master did not flag; she waited patiently until he came--her mane and long tail would then switch about, while she'd "sn.i.g.g.e.r eout" with gladness at his coming, and carry the old man through rain or snow, moons.h.i.+ne, or total darkness, over corduroy railroads, bridges, ravines, and last, though by no means least, over the narrow plank-way of Captain Maguire's saw-mill dam, while the waters on each side foamed and roared like a mountain torrent, and while the old man was either asleep or his hat so full of "bricks," that he was about as difficult to balance in the saddle as a sack of potatoes or Turk's Island salt! A better citizen, when sober, never paid taxes or trod sole leather in that State, than old Captain Maguire; but when he was "up the tree," a little sprung, or _tight_, as you may say, he was ugly enough, and chock full of wolf and brimstone! One day the captain was summoned to attend court, and testify in a case wherein his evidence was to give a lift to the suit of a neighbor, for whom the old man entertained a most lively disgust and very unchristianly hate. The old man, finding that he must go, went. He wet his whistle several times before starting, repeated the dose several times before he reached the Court House, and about the time he supposed he was wanted, he mounted "Bonny Doon," and started, full chisel, up the steps, through the entry, and into the crowded Court room, just in the nick of time.

"Robert Maguire! Robert Maguire! Robert----"

"Be the help o' Moses, _I'm here!_" roared the captain, in response to the crier.

And sure enough, he wasn't anywhere else! There he sat, stiff, and formal as a bronze statue of some renowned military chieftain, on a pot-metal war steed. Some laughed, others stepped out of the way of the mare's heels, judge and jury "riz," some of the oldest sinners in law practice looked quite "skeery," doubtless taking the old captain and his black charger for quite a different individual! It was some time before order and decorum were restored, as it was much easier for the judge to _order_ Captain Maguire to be arrested for his freak, than to do it, "Bonny Doon" not being disposed to let any man approach her head or heels. They shut the captain up, finally, for contempt of court, and fined him twenty dollars, but he escaped the disagreeable att.i.tude of sustaining the suit of an enemy. At another time, the captain, being on a _time_, dashed into a meeting-house, running in at one door, and slap bang out at the other! This feat of Camanche horsemans.h.i.+p rather alarmed the whole congregation, and cost the captain five twenties! Riding into bar rooms and stores was a common performance of "Bonny Doon" and her master; and he had even gone so far as to run the mare up two entire flights of stairs of the princ.i.p.al hotel, das.h.i.+ng into a room where "a native" was s.h.i.+vering in bed with the fever and ague; but the noise and sudden appearance of a man and horse in such high lat.i.tudes effected a permanent and speedy cure; the fright like to have destroyed the sufferer's crop of hair, but the "a-gy" was skeered clean out of his emaciated body.

After a variety of adventures by flood and field, of hair-breadth 'scapes, and eccentricities of man and beast, they parted! "Bonny Doon"

being about the only living spectator of her master's end. This tragic denouement came about one cold, stormy and snowy night, when few men, and as few beasts, would willingly or without pressing occasion, expose themselves to the pitiless storm. The old captain had been in town all day, with "Bonny Doon" hitched to the horse block, and being full of "distempering draughts," as Shakspeare modestly terms it, and malicious bravery in the midst of the great storm, late in the evening he mounted his half-starved and as near frozen mare, to go home.

"Better stay all night, captain," coaxed some friend.

"Hills are icy, and hollows filled with snow," suggested the landlord.

"I wouldn't ride out to your place to-night, captain, for a seat in Congress!" rejoined the first speaker.

"Ye wouldn't?" replied the captain. "And--and no wonder ye wouldn't, fer not a divil iv ye's iver had the horse as could carry ye's over me road th' night. Look at that! There's the baste can do it!--d'ye see that?"

and as the old man, reeling in the saddle, jammed the rowels of his heavy spurs into the flanks of the mare, she nearly stood erect, and chafed her bits as fiery and mettled as though just from her oats and warm stable, and fifteen years kicked off.

"Boys," bawled the captain, "here's the ould mare that can thravel up a frozen mountain, slide down a greased rainbow, and carry ould Captain Maguire where the very ould divil himsilf couldn't vinture his dirty ould body. Hoo-o-oo-oop! I'm gone, boys!"

And he was off, gone, too; for the old man never reached the threshold of his domicil.--Next morning Captain Maguire was found in the mill-dam, entirely dead, with poor "Bonny Doon," nearly frozen, and scarcely able to walk or move, standing near him. But there she stood, upon the narrow icy way over the dam, and from appearances of the snow and planks of the little bridge, the faithful mare had pawed, sc.r.a.ped, and endeavored by various means to rescue her master. The manner of the catastrophe was evident; the old man had become sleepy, and frozen, and while the poor mare was feeling her way over the icy and snow-covered bridge, her master had slipped off into the frozen dam, and no doubt she would have dragged him out, could she have reached him. As it was, she stood a faithful sentinel over her lost master, and did not survive him long,--the cold and her evident sorrow ended the eventful life of "Bonny Doon."

Getting into the "Right Pew."

New Year's day is some considerable "pumpkins" in many parts of the United States. In the Western States, they have horse-racing, shooting-matches, quilting-frolics and grand hunting parties. In the South, the week beginning with Christmas and ending with New Year's day, is devoted to the largest liberty by the negroes, who have one grand and extensive _saturnalia_, visit their friends and relations, make love to the "gals" on neighboring plantations, spend the little change saved through the year, or now and then given to them by indulgent or generous masters, and in fact have a glorious good time! The holidays in New Orleans, and in Louisiana generally, is _a time_, and no mistake. The old French and Spanish families keep open house--dinners and suppers, music, song and dance. On New Year's eve, they decorate the graves of their friends with flowers. Lamps or lanterns are often required for this purpose, and as you pa.s.s the silent grave-yards, it is indeed a novel sight to see the many glimmering lights about the tombs of the departed. In most of the South-Western towns, the day is given up to fun and frolic. The Philadelphians have a great blow out. The streets are filled by holiday-looking people, children with toys and "mint sticks"--making the air resound with tin trumpets and penny whistles.

The men and boys used to load up every thing in the shape of cannons, guns, pistols and hollow keys, and bang away from sunset until sunrise, keeping up a racket, din and uproar, equal to the bombardment of a citadel. The authorities stopped that, and now the civil young men kill the night and day in dancing, feasting, and attending the amus.e.m.e.nts, the mult.i.tude of rowdies pa.s.sing their time in concocting and carrying on street fights and running with the engines.

But the New Yorkers _bang_ the whole of them; bear witness, O ye New Year's doings I have there seen. Visiting your friends, and your friends' friends. Open houses every where! "Drop in and take a gla.s.s of wine or bit of cake, if nothing else"--that's the word. Jeremy Diddlers flourish, marriageable daughters and interesting widows set their caps for the nice young men, the streets are noisy and full of confusion, the theatres and show-shops generally reap an elegant harvest, and the police reports of the second morning of the New Year swell monstrously!

Of a New Year's adventure of an innocent young acquaintance of mine, I have a little story to tell.

Jeff. Jones was caught, at a New Year's dinner in New York, by the fascinating grace and _cap_-tivating head-gear of a certain young widow, who had a fine estate. Jeff. was what you might call a good boy; he had never seen much of creation, save that lying between Pokeepsie (his birth-place) and the Battery, Castle Garden and Bloomingdale. He was a clever fellow, fond of rational fun and amus.e.m.e.nt, kept "a set of books"

for a mercantile firm in Maiden Lane, dressed well, kept good hours, and in all general respects, was--a nice young man. He went with a friend on a tour--New Year's day, to make calls. After a number of gla.s.ses and chunks of cake, feeling altogether beautiful, he found himself in the presence of a charming widow, and some two months afterwards, himself and the widow, a parson and a brace of male and female friends, Jeff.

Jones, aged 28, took a partner for life, ergo he hung up his hat in the snug domicil of the flouris.h.i.+ng widow, who became Mrs. Jeff. Jones, thereafter.

Poor Jeff., he found out that there was some truth in the venerable saying--all is not gold that glitters. The charming widow was seriously inclined to wear the inexpressibles; and poor Jeff., being of such a gentlemanly, good and easy disposition, scarcely made a struggle for his reserved rights. However, things, under such a state of affairs, grew no better fast, and as Jeff. Jones had neglected to go around and see the elephant before marriage, he came to the conclusion to see what was going on after that interesting ceremony. In short, Jeff. got to going out of nights--kept "bad hours," got blowed up in gentle strains at first, but which were promised to be enlarged if Mr. Jones did not mind his Ps. and Qs.

The third anniversary of Jeff. Jones's annexation to the widow was coming around. It was New Year's day in the morn; it brought rather sober reflections into Jeff.'s mind, on the head of which he thought he'd as soon as not--_get tight!_ This notion was pleasing, and dressing himself in his best clothes, Jones informed Mrs. J. that he wished to call on a few old friends, and would be home to dine and bring some friends with him!

"See that you do, then," said Mrs. J., "see that you do, that's all!"

and she gave Mr. J. "a look" not at all like Miss Juliet's to Mr.

Romeo--she _spoke_, and she said something.

However, Jones cleared himself; dinner hour arrived, if Jeff. Jones did not; Mrs. Jones smiled and chatted, and did the honors of the table with rare good grace, but where was Jones?

"He'll be poking in just as dinner is over, and the puddings cold, and company preparing to leave; then he'll catch a lecturing."

But don't fret your pretty self, Mrs. Jones--for dinner pa.s.sed and tea-time came, but no Jones. Mrs. Jones began to get snappish, and by ten o'clock she had bitten all the ends from her taper fingers, besides dreadfully scolding the servants, all around. Mrs. J. finally retired--the clock had struck 12, and no Jones was to be seen; Mrs. J.

was worried out; she could not sleep a blessed wink. She got up again, Jones might have met with some dreadful accident! She had not thought of that before! Perhaps at that very hour he was in the bottom of the Hudson, or in the deep cells of the Tombs! It was awful! Mrs. Jones dressed--the house was as still as a church-yard--she put on an old hood, and shawl to match, and noiselessly she crept down stairs; and by a pa.s.sage out through the back area into a rear street. Mrs. Jones at the dead hour of night determined to seek some information of her husband.

She had not gotten over a block, or block and a half from her mansion, when she spies two men coming along--wing and wing, merry as grigs, reeling to and fro, and singing in stentorian notes:

"A man that is (hic) married (hic) has lost every hope-- He's (hic) like a poor (hic) pig with his foot in a rope!

_O-o-o! dear! O-o-o! dear--cracky!_ A man that is (hic) married has so (hic) many ills-- He's like a (hic) poor fish with a (hic) hook in his gills!

_O-o-o-o! dear! O-o-o-o! dear--cracky!"_

In terror of these roaring baccha.n.a.lians, who were slowly approaching her, Mrs. Jones stood close in the doorway of a store; the revellers parted at the corner of the street, after many a.s.severations of eternal friends.h.i.+p, much noise and t.w.a.ttle. One of the carousers came lumbering towards Mrs. J., and she, in some alarm, left her hiding place and darted past the midnight brawler; and to her horror, the fellow made tracks after her as fast as a drunken man could travel, and that ain't slow; for almost any man inside of sixty can run, like blazes, when he is scarce able to stand upon his pins because of the quant.i.ty of bricks in his beaver. Mrs. Jones ran towards her dwelling, but before she could reach it, the ruffian at her heels clasped her! Just as she was about to give an awful scream, wake up all the neighbors and police ten miles around, she saw--_Jones!_ Jeff. Jones, her recreant husband!

It was a moment of awful import--the widow was equal to the crisis, however, and governed herself accordingly; proving the truth of some dead and gone philosopher who has left it in black and white, that the widows are always more than a _match_ for any man in Christendom!

Jones was loving drunk, a stage that terminates and is a near kin to total oblivion, in baccha.n.a.lian revels. Jones had not the remotest idea of where he was--time or persons; his tongue was thick, eyes dull, ideas monstrous foggy, and the few sentences he rather unintelligibly uttered, were highly spiced with--"my little (hic) angel, you (hic), you (hic) live 'bout (hic) here? Can't you ta-take me (hic) home with you, eh?

My-my old woman (hic) would raise-rai-raise old scratch if I (hic), I went home to-to-night. (Hic) I'll, I'll go home (hic) in the morning, and (hic) tell her, ha! ha! he! (hic) tell her I've be-be-been to a fire!"

"O, the villain," said Mrs. J. to herself; "but I'll be revenged. Come, sir, go home with me--I'll take care of you. Come, sir, be careful; this way--in here."

"Where the (hic) deuce are--are you going down this (hic) cellar, eh?"

"All right, sir. Come, be careful! don't fall; rest on my arm--there, shut the door."

"Why (hic), ha-hang it a--all; get a light--that's a de--ar!"

"Yes, yes; wait a moment, I'll bring you a light."

Mrs. J. having gotten her game bagged, left it in the dark, and retired to her bed-chamber. Some of the servants, hearing a noise in the bas.e.m.e.nt, got up, stuck their noses out of their rooms, and being convinced that a desperate scoundrel was in the house, raised the very old boy. Poor Jones, in his efforts to get out, run over pots, pans, and chairs, and through him and the servants, the police were alarmed!

lights were raised, and Jones was arrested for a burglar!

Never was a man better pleased to find himself in his own domicil, than Jones! It was all Greek to the watchmen and servants; it was a mysterious matter to Jones for a full fortnight--but upon promise of ever after spending his new year's at home, Mrs. J. let the cat out of the bag. Jones surrendered!

A Circuitous Route.