TELEGRAPHING AN EXPRESS. A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE IN THE AMERICAN BOTTOM.
The great struggles to obtain early news in the east, between the proprietors of daily journals, has infused a spirit of rivalry in their western brethren, and they have been of late, prating all along the Mississippi valley, about expresses to Washington, railroads to Oregon, regular lines to California, telegraphs connecting St. Louis with the east, &c., and sundry other new-fangled methods of getting ahead of time. We do not much wonder at it, for this is the age of expresses, and the man who lingers along in the old “sure-and-easy” method, is certain to be lost sight of in the rapid whirl of the new order of things. In the matter of news, now-a-days, it is not news unless expressed, and we hesitate not to say that the President's message, received in the old fashioned wait-till-you-get-it manner, would not be read with interest.
At St. Louis, on the night of the 17th of December, the President's message was expected in town, and many were the suspicious rumours in circulation, about private expresses, magnetic telegraphs, and “enormous” arrangements to spread the intelligence with rapidity. Every body knew that the old slow-and-easy line through Illinois would be along sometime that night, and allowing it ten days from Washington to the Mississippi, it was very probable that among its contents' would be found a copy of that important document. Col. K., a veteran conducter of the city press, called a few of his boys together, that evening, and quietly remarked to them:—
“Boys, that terrapin team will arrive to night on the other side of the river with the message, and as it generally remains there until next morning, unless we can persuade the driver to cross the river, we will get no message until to morrow, so I wish you to start as an express, and see if you can't coax him to cross.—Use the persuasive, liberally, but bring him and the mailbags, anyhow!”
Orders were positive, and a “team” of three started to execute the Colonel's orders. The river was a sheet of solid ice, upon which the full moon poured down a flood of radiance. Across the ice they dashed, gained the Illinois side, and chartering a wagon and horses belonging to a couple of suckers, started to meet the stage. The drivers of this express were dubious about taking their passengers, because they would not disclose where they wished to go. “Keep dark!” said one. “Mum is the word!” said the other. “They intend to steal sum gal on the road,” whispered one sucker to his friend.
“Well, they've got a cussed poor taste, fur I'll swar thar aint anythin' on this yeur road to the bluff' wuth shucks, 'cept Nancy Birch, and her temper would tarn the stomic of the d——-l.” In the course of a few minutes one express passenger remarked to his companion, “We'll meet the stage this side of the brick house.”
“Certain,” was his friend's reply. “It's out now,” said the biggest sucker, “thar goin' to rob the mail,” and he cast a fearful glance over his shoulder to see if they had pistols in their hands. The stage was now heard lumbering along, and in a few minutes they met, when out dashed the expresses. “Stop!” cried one, to the driver—up mounted another to the side of the stage. “I'm d———d, gentlemen, ef we belong to that arr crowd!” screamed the sucker driver, “I'll jest swar on a stack of bibles, that them fellars ony hired our team.”
The express who mounted the side of the stage, thinking he might obtain a copy from some passenger, thrust his head through the door, and finding one “insider” he demanded:—
“Have you got a message?”
“Dake all mit you, mine Got!” exclaimed a German passenger in answer, “but dont gill de fader of dirteen little babys,”—at the same time he handed his wallet to the express messenger.
“To the d———l with your old leather, give me a message paper!” shouted the express.
“May I go to der duyvel, if ish got any oder baper but Indiana!” exclaimed the Dutchman, still holding forth his wallet.
The driver now informed them that he had the message along, but “he'd jest see them and the city of St. Louis in h——l, afore they'd git him two steps further than the law pervided he should go,” and that was to the Illinois side of the river. He said this so bitter, that the chance looked hopeless for moving him, but one of the boys, with a tongue “iley as a sarpint,' quiet as a mole, and civil as a pill pedlar, climbed up on the seat beside him, and placing himself in a good position, he commenced whispering close to the ear of the driver, and Eve never yielded as easily to the serpent's temptation, as the mail driver now began to melt' under the soft whisper floating around him.
“You said it would be hot!” exclaimed the driver.
“I did,” replied the whisper, “and lots of it, besides a dollar under the pitcher of punch, and sundry comfortable fixens around it.”
“Don't say any more,” said the driver, “that's jest the kind of snap I want to git into to night.” So, putting up his horses he shouldered the mail bags, and across to St. Louis the party travelled.
The proprietors of the anxious city journals, alarmed at the delay of the express, resolved to despatch telegraphs in search of them; and, having charged three with the electric fluid, off they started—and Morse's invention aint a beginning to the way the St. Louis specimens travelled. Across the ice—slap—dash—up the side of the ferry boat, and up the hill. Here were collected about fifty Illinois market wagons, and a corresponding number of suckers. A group of these latter were gathered around a large fire, discussing the probability of being able to cross the ice to St. Louis, on the succeeding day. A telegraph inquired of one of these, if he had seen anything of the express. “No, I haint,” says he, “but I hev got first rate butter, at two bitts a pound!”
“Melt your butter!” shouted an indignant telegraph. “Come and show us the road out to Pap's house, captain,” said another. The marketeer started a few rods with him, and then, as if a sudden thought hit him, looked at the telegraph gent, and, pointing his finger at him, he slowly remarked—“No you don't hoss! I jest see right through you.”
“Why, you fool, don't you see by my appearance that I am a gentleman?” inquired telegraph. The sucker marketeer drew off a few paces, to be ready to run, and then shouted—“Yes, I've seen jest sich gentleman fellars as you in the penitentiary!” and off he dashed, congratulating himself on his escape from robbery.
Away went the telegraphs again, heading for Pap's house, a stopping place about one mile from the ferry, and while one led the way, the other two, wishing to slip him, hid on the road-side, but the rival telegraph seated himself in the road to wait for the appearance of his company. As there was no way, in the clear moonlight, to get round him unobserved, they came out and again started. Now for it!—best man at Pap's first! Away they started, “lickety-click,” and arrived at the winning-post within touching distance of each other. After rapping up the bar-keeper they seated themselves by the stove, leisurely warmed up, and then inquired how soon they expected the stage along. “It passed here with the message, full twenty minutes ago!” was the answer.
Clear the track!—hey!—here was news. Three important aids of two printing establishments, two miles from their offices, and the message there! Now commenced a stampede unknown to Fashion—down to the river—on to the ice;—pit—pat—pat—pit—slip—slide—bang!—and down he goes “up, boys, and at it again.” The island was reached in safety. Here was a dangerous gap, at which stood a foot passenger afraid to cross. “Look out,” he shouted, “you'll get in there.”
“Get thunder!—get out of the road!” shouted the foremost—through they dashed—the last sticking his leg through a feet, and the city side was gained like a flash of lightning. The leading telegraph reached the composing room of an enterprising city paper, just as the foreman was shouting—proof!