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Chapter XXI.
IT was after sun-up now, but we went right
on and didn't tie up.
The king and the duke turned out by and by
looking pretty rusty; but after they'd
jumped overboard and took a swim it
chippered them up a good deal.
After breakfast the king he took a seat on
the corner of the raft, and pulled off his
boots and rolled up his britches, and let
his legs dangle in the water, so as to be
comfortable, and lit his pipe, and went to
getting his Romeo and Juliet by heart.
When he had got it pretty good him and the
duke begun to practice it together.
The duke had to learn him over and over
again how to say every speech; and he made
him sigh, and put his hand on his heart,
and after a while he said he done it pretty
well; "only," he says, "you mustn't bellow
out ROMEO! that way, like a bull--you must
say it soft and sick and languishy, so--R-
o-o-meo! that is the idea; for Juliet's a
dear sweet mere child of a girl, you know,
and she doesn't bray like a ***."
Well, next they got out a couple of long
swords that the duke made out of oak laths,
and begun to practice the sword fight--the
duke called himself Richard III.; and the
way they laid on and pranced around the
raft was grand to see.
But by and by the king tripped and fell
overboard, and after that they took a rest,
and had a talk about all kinds of
adventures they'd had in other times along
the river.
After dinner the duke says:
"Well, Capet, we'll want to make this a
first-class show, you know, so I guess
we'll add a little more to it.
We want a little something to answer
encores with, anyway."
"What's onkores, Bilgewater?"
The duke told him, and then says:
"I'll answer by doing the Highland fling or
the sailor's hornpipe; and you--well, let
me see--oh, I've got it--you can do
Hamlet's soliloquy."
"Hamlet's which?"
"Hamlet's soliloquy, you know; the most
celebrated thing in Shakespeare.
Ah, it's sublime, sublime!
Always fetches the house.
I haven't got it in the book--I've only got
one volume--but I reckon I can piece it out
from memory.
I'll just walk up and down a minute, and
see if I can call it back from
recollection's vaults."
So he went to marching up and down,
thinking, and frowning horrible every now
and then; then he would hoist up his
eyebrows; next he would squeeze his hand on
his forehead and stagger back and kind of
moan; next he would sigh, and next he'd let
on to drop a tear.
It was beautiful to see him.
By and by he got it.
He told us to give attention.
Then he strikes a most noble attitude, with
one leg shoved forwards, and his arms
stretched away up, and his head tilted
back, looking up at the sky; and then he
begins to rip and rave and grit his teeth;
and after that, all through his speech, he
howled, and spread around, and swelled up
his chest, and just knocked the spots out
of any acting ever I see before.
This is the speech--I learned it, easy
enough, while he was learning it to the
king:
To be, or not to be; that is the bare
bodkin That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would fardels bear, till Birnam
Wood do come to Dunsinane, But that the
fear of something after death Murders the
innocent sleep, Great nature's second
course, And makes us rather sling the
arrows of outrageous fortune Than fly to
others that we know not of.
There's the respect must give us pause:
Wake Duncan with thy knocking!
I would thou couldst; For who would bear
the whips and scorns of time, The
oppressor's wrong, the proud man's
contumely, The law's delay, and the quietus
which his pangs might take, In the dead
waste and middle of the night, when
churchyards yawn In customary suits of
solemn black, But that the undiscovered
country from whose bourne no traveler
returns, Breathes forth contagion on the
world, And thus the native hue of
resolution, like the poor cat i' the adage,
Is sicklied o'er with care, And all the
clouds that lowered o'er our housetops,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.
But soft you, the fair Ophelia: Ope not thy
ponderous and marble jaws, But get thee to
a nunnery--go!
Well, the old man he liked that speech, and
he mighty soon got it so he could do it
first-rate.
It seemed like he was just born for it; and
when he had his hand in and was excited, it
was perfectly lovely the way he would rip
and tear and rair up behind when he was
getting it off.
The first chance we got the duke he had
some showbills printed; and after that, for
two or three days as we floated along, the
raft was a most uncommon lively place, for
there warn't nothing but sword fighting and
rehearsing--as the duke called it--going on
all the time.
One morning, when we was pretty well down
the State of Arkansaw, we come in sight of
a little one-horse town in a big bend; so
we tied up about three-quarters of a mile
above it, in the mouth of a crick which was
shut in like a tunnel by the cypress trees,
and all of us but Jim took the canoe and
went down there to see if there was any
chance in that place for our show.
We struck it mighty lucky; there was going
to be a circus there that afternoon, and
the country people was already beginning to
come in, in all kinds of old shackly
wagons, and on horses.
The circus would leave before night, so our
show would have a pretty good chance.
The duke he hired the courthouse, and we
went around and stuck up our bills.
They read like this:
Shaksperean Revival!!!
Wonderful Attraction!
For One Night Only!
The world renowned tragedians, David
Garrick the Younger, of Drury Lane
Theatre London, and Edmund Kean the elder,
of the Royal Haymarket
Theatre, Whitechapel, Pudding Lane,
Piccadilly, London, and the Royal
Continental Theatres, in their sublime
Shaksperean Spectacle entitled
The Balcony Scene in Romeo and Juliet!!!
Romeo___________________Mr. Garrick
Juliet__________________Mr. Kean
Assisted by the whole strength of the
company!
New costumes, new scenery, new
appointments!
Also: The thrilling, masterly, and blood-
curdling
Broad-sword conflict In Richard III.!!!
Richard III_____________Mr. Garrick
Richmond________________Mr. Kean
Also: (by special request) Hamlet's
Immortal Soliloquy!!
By The Illustrious Kean!
Done by him 300 consecutive nights in
Paris!
For One Night Only, On account of
imperative European engagements!
Admission 25 cents; children and servants,
10 cents.
Then we went loafing around town.
The stores and houses was most all old,
shackly, dried up frame concerns that
hadn't ever been painted; they was set up
three or four foot above ground on stilts,
so as to be out of reach of the water when
the river was over-flowed.
The houses had little gardens around them,
but they didn't seem to raise hardly
anything in them but jimpson-weeds, and
sunflowers, and ash piles, and old curled-
up boots and shoes, and pieces of bottles,
and rags, and played-out tinware.
The fences was made of different kinds of
boards, nailed on at different times; and
they leaned every which way, and had gates
that didn't generly have but one hinge--a
leather one.
Some of the fences had been white-washed
some time or another, but the duke said it
was in Clumbus' time, like enough.
There was generly hogs in the garden, and
people driving them out.
All the stores was along one street.
They had white domestic awnings in front,
and the country people hitched their horses
to the awning-posts.
There was empty drygoods boxes under the
awnings, and loafers roosting on them all
day long, whittling them with their Barlow
knives; and chawing tobacco, and gaping and
yawning and stretching--a mighty ornery
lot.
They generly had on yellow straw hats most
as wide as an umbrella, but didn't wear no
coats nor waistcoats, they called one
another Bill, and Buck, and Hank, and Joe,
and Andy, and talked lazy and drawly, and
used considerable many cuss words.
There was as many as one loafer leaning up
against every awning-post, and he most
always had his hands in his britches-
pockets, except when he fetched them out to
lend a chaw of tobacco or scratch.
What a body was hearing amongst them all
the time was:
"Gimme a chaw 'v tobacker, Hank."
"Cain't; I hain't got but one chaw left.
Ask Bill."
Maybe Bill he gives him a chaw; maybe he
lies and says he ain't got none.
Some of them kinds of loafers never has a
cent in the world, nor a chaw of tobacco of
their own.
They get all their chawing by borrowing;
they say to a fellow, "I wisht you'd len'
me a chaw, Jack, I jist this minute give
Ben Thompson the last chaw I had"--which is
a lie pretty much everytime; it don't fool
nobody but a stranger; but Jack ain't no
stranger, so he says:
"YOU give him a chaw, did you?
So did your sister's cat's grandmother.
You pay me back the chaws you've awready
borry'd off'n me, Lafe Buckner, then I'll
loan you one or two ton of it, and won't
charge you no back intrust, nuther."
"Well, I DID pay you back some of it
wunst."
"Yes, you did--'bout six chaws.
You borry'd store tobacker and paid back
***-head."
Store tobacco is flat black plug, but these
fellows mostly chaws the natural leaf
twisted.
When they borrow a chaw they don't generly
cut it off with a knife, but set the plug
in between their teeth, and gnaw with their
teeth and tug at the plug with their hands
till they get it in two; then sometimes the
one that owns the tobacco looks mournful at
it when it's handed back, and says,
sarcastic:
"Here, gimme the CHAW, and you take the
PLUG."
All the streets and lanes was just mud;
they warn't nothing else BUT mud --mud as
black as tar and nigh about a foot deep in
some places, and two or three inches deep
in ALL the places.
The hogs loafed and grunted around
everywheres.
You'd see a muddy sow and a litter of pigs
come lazying along the street and whollop
herself right down in the way, where folks
had to walk around her, and she'd stretch
out and shut her eyes and wave her ears
whilst the pigs was milking her, and look
as happy as if she was on salary.
And pretty soon you'd hear a loafer sing
out, "Hi!
SO boy! sick him, Tige!" and away the sow
would go, squealing most horrible, with a
dog or two swinging to each ear, and three
or four dozen more a-coming; and then you
would see all the loafers get up and watch
the thing out of sight, and laugh at the
fun and look grateful for the noise.
Then they'd settle back again till there
was a dog fight.
There couldn't anything wake them up all
over, and make them happy all over, like a
dog fight--unless it might be putting
turpentine on a stray dog and setting fire
to him, or tying a tin pan to his tail and
see him run himself to death.
On the river front some of the houses was
sticking out over the bank, and they was
bowed and bent, and about ready to tumble
in, The people had moved out of them.
The bank was caved away under one corner of
some others, and that corner was hanging
over.
People lived in them yet, but it was
dangersome, because sometimes a strip of
land as wide as a house caves in at a time.
Sometimes a belt of land a quarter of a
mile deep will start in and cave along and
cave along till it all caves into the river
in one summer.
Such a town as that has to be always moving
back, and back, and back, because the
river's always gnawing at it.
The nearer it got to noon that day the
thicker and thicker was the wagons and
horses in the streets, and more coming all
the time.
Families fetched their dinners with them
from the country, and eat them in the
wagons.
There was considerable whisky drinking
going on, and I seen three fights.
By and by somebody sings out:
"Here comes old Boggs!--in from the country
for his little old monthly drunk; here he
comes, boys!"
All the loafers looked glad; I reckoned
they was used to having fun out of Boggs.
One of them says:
"Wonder who he's a-gwyne to chaw up this
time.
If he'd a-chawed up all the men he's ben a-
gwyne to chaw up in the last twenty year
he'd have considerable ruputation now."
Another one says, "I wisht old Boggs 'd
threaten me, 'cuz then I'd know I warn't
gwyne to die for a thousan' year."
Boggs comes a-tearing along on his horse,
whooping and yelling like an ***, and
singing out:
"Cler the track, thar.
I'm on the waw-path, and the price uv
coffins is a-gwyne to raise."
He was drunk, and weaving about in his
saddle; he was over fifty year old, and had
a very red face.
Everybody yelled at him and laughed at him
and sassed him, and he sassed back, and
said he'd attend to them and lay them out
in their regular turns, but he couldn't
wait now because he'd come to town to kill
old Colonel Sherburn, and his motto was,
"Meat first, and spoon vittles to top off
on."
He see me, and rode up and says:
"Whar'd you come f'm, boy?
You prepared to die?"
Then he rode on.
I was scared, but a man says:
"He don't mean nothing; he's always a-
carryin' on like that when he's drunk.
He's the best naturedest old fool in
Arkansaw--never hurt nobody, drunk nor
sober."
Boggs rode up before the biggest store in
town, and bent his head down so he could
see under the curtain of the awning and
yells:
"Come out here, Sherburn!
Come out and meet the man you've swindled.
You're the houn' I'm after, and I'm a-gwyne
to have you, too!"
And so he went on, calling Sherburn
everything he could lay his tongue to, and
the whole street packed with people
listening and laughing and going on.
By and by a proud-looking man about fifty-
five--and he was a heap the best dressed
man in that town, too--steps out of the
store, and the crowd drops back on each
side to let him come.
He says to Boggs, mighty ca'm and slow--he
says:
"I'm tired of this, but I'll endure it till
one o'clock.
Till one o'clock, mind--no longer.
If you open your mouth against me only once
after that time you can't travel so far but
I will find you."
Then he turns and goes in.
The crowd looked mighty sober; nobody
stirred, and there warn't no more laughing.
Boggs rode off blackguarding Sherburn as
loud as he could yell, all down the street;
and pretty soon back he comes and stops
before the store, still keeping it up.
Some men crowded around him and tried to
get him to shut up, but he wouldn't; they
told him it would be one o'clock in about
fifteen minutes, and so he MUST go home--he
must go right away.
But it didn't do no good.
He cussed away with all his might, and
throwed his hat down in the mud and rode
over it, and pretty soon away he went a-
raging down the street again, with his gray
hair a-flying.
Everybody that could get a chance at him
tried their best to coax him off of his
horse so they could lock him up and get him
sober; but it warn't no use--up the street
he would tear again, and give Sherburn
another cussing.
By and by somebody says:
"Go for his daughter!--quick, go for his
daughter; sometimes he'll listen to her.
If anybody can persuade him, she can."
So somebody started on a run.
I walked down street a ways and stopped.
In about five or ten minutes here comes
Boggs again, but not on his horse.
He was a-reeling across the street towards
me, bare-headed, with a friend on both
sides of him a-holt of his arms and
hurrying him along.
He was quiet, and looked uneasy; and he
warn't hanging back any, but was doing some
of the hurrying himself.
Somebody sings out:
"Boggs!"
I looked over there to see who said it, and
it was that Colonel Sherburn.
He was standing perfectly still in the
street, and had a pistol raised in his
right hand--not aiming it, but holding it
out with the barrel tilted up towards the
sky.
The same second I see a young girl coming
on the run, and two men with her.
Boggs and the men turned round to see who
called him, and when they see the pistol
the men jumped to one side, and the pistol-
barrel come down slow and steady to a
level--both barrels cocked.
Boggs throws up both of his hands and says,
"O Lord, don't shoot!"
***! goes the first shot, and he staggers
back, clawing at the air--***! goes the
second one, and he tumbles backwards on to
the ground, heavy and solid, with his arms
spread out.
That young girl screamed out and comes
rushing, and down she throws herself on her
father, crying, and saying, "Oh, he's
killed him, he's killed him!"
The crowd closed up around them, and
shouldered and jammed one another, with
their necks stretched, trying to see, and
people on the inside trying to shove them
back and shouting, "Back, back! give him
air, give him air!"
Colonel Sherburn he tossed his pistol on to
the ground, and turned around on his heels
and walked off.
They took Boggs to a little drug store, the
crowd pressing around just the same, and
the whole town following, and I rushed and
got a good place at the window, where I was
close to him and could see in.
They laid him on the floor and put one
large Bible under his head, and opened
another one and spread it on his breast;
but they tore open his shirt first, and I
seen where one of the bullets went in.
He made about a dozen long gasps, his
breast lifting the Bible up when he drawed
in his breath, and letting it down again
when he breathed it out--and after that he
laid still; he was dead.
Then they pulled his daughter away from
him, screaming and crying, and took her
off.
She was about sixteen, and very sweet and
gentle looking, but awful pale and scared.
Well, pretty soon the whole town was there,
squirming and scrouging and pushing and
shoving to get at the window and have a
look, but people that had the places
wouldn't give them up, and folks behind
them was saying all the time, "Say, now,
you've looked enough, you fellows; 'tain't
right and 'tain't fair for you to stay thar
all the time, and never give nobody a
chance; other folks has their rights as
well as you."
There was considerable jawing back, so I
slid out, thinking maybe there was going to
be trouble.
The streets was full, and everybody was
excited.
Everybody that seen the shooting was
telling how it happened, and there was a
big crowd packed around each one of these
fellows, stretching their necks and
listening.
One long, lanky man, with long hair and a
big white fur stovepipe hat on the back of
his head, and a crooked-handled cane,
marked out the places on the ground where
Boggs stood and where Sherburn stood, and
the people following him around from one
place to t'other and watching everything he
done, and bobbing their heads to show they
understood, and stooping a little and
resting their hands on their thighs to
watch him mark the places on the ground
with his cane; and then he stood up
straight and stiff where Sherburn had
stood, frowning and having his hat-brim
down over his eyes, and sung out, "Boggs!"
and then fetched his cane down slow to a
level, and says "***!" staggered
backwards, says "***!" again, and fell
down flat on his back.
The people that had seen the thing said he
done it perfect; said it was just exactly
the way it all happened.
Then as much as a dozen people got out
their bottles and treated him.
Well, by and by somebody said Sherburn
ought to be lynched.
In about a minute everybody was saying it;
so away they went, mad and yelling, and
snatching down every clothes-line they come
to to do the hanging with.