John readily assented to her comment on his appearance, and asked if he could'nt have something to eat and a bed, for he was both tired and hungry, after his tramp to see about the situation. The good matron, sympathisingly, prepared him a good supper, and conducted him to a small, neat room over the kitchen, where a clean bed and comfortable covering lay temptingly in repose, as if waiting for some weary body, to rest it. This was no time to philosophise on luck, so John turned in and straight addressed himself to sleep—it came without coaxing, and as Morpheus wrapped him in her poppy robe, it seemed to him a covering of the softest fur and brightest hues. His dreams were peopled by a weary train of foot passengers, who toiled along beneath a burning sun, with sticks across their shoulders, and bundles dangling at their ends, while he seemed drawn on a chariot of air, whose delightful floating motion lulled the senses into a soft, dreamy languor—not a sleep of forgetfulness, but one where the brain was sensible of the body's enjoyment—and refreshing breezes, laden with the fragrance of prairie flowers, fanned his brow. It was mortality tasting the repose of the gods! When morning broke John turned himself on his couch just to realise the truth of his situation, and hugged the covering to his rested body with a lover's fervor. As he thus lay enjoying the waking reality, a conversation in the kitchen below him attracted his attention. The old lady was telling her son, a young man, that an applicant for the situation of help in the yard, was sleeping above.
“What, have you engaged him?” inquired the son.
“No, not azactly engaged him, but I gin the poor creatur' suthin' to eat, and sent him to bed, expectin' to be engaged in the mornin'—he's not jest strong enough, but appears mity willin'.”
“Well, I'm consarned sorry you did any sich a thing,” said he, “'cause we won't want a man for a month yit.”
“Well, the creatur' will be dreadfully disappinted,” answered the old lady.
“Not so much as you think, Mrs. Jo Simms,” thought our hero, and then he began to congratulate himself on his good fortune:
“I am a most lucky disciple of Faust,” said he, “I've had a supper fit for a lord, and a couch where the imperial form of sovereignty might repose unruffled—and did—for I'm an august representative of American sovereignty! What next? If the good angel of the lonely widow and her little ones don't now desert me, I stand 'a right smart chance' of getting a breakfast into the bargain!—Well,” concluded John, “this is too much luck for weak human nature to bear easily, so it is necessary to nerve myself, or I shall be overcome.” Dressing himself, he descended to the kitchen, and made the acquaintance of the younger Jo Simms, who appeared very backward in breaking to our hero the sad news of his rejection as help in the yard. At length, however, he kindly broke the intelligence, and before John could answer he offered him two dollars to pay his expenses back, and, moreover, invited him to partake of the smoking repast just preparing.
“Say no more about it, my dear sir,” says John, “such liberality removes the pain of disappointment.” It was refreshing to see how his phiz lighted up at his luck, and all parties being perfectly satisfied, they enjoyed the morning meal with a relish. As John was about to depart, the good old dame rolled him up a lunch of short cake, and he bid farewell to brick making.
In a short time he arrived at Chicago, where he obtained work at his business, but the exposure he had undergone brought on the fever and ague, which shook him out of all respect for Illinois, and he therefore determined to leave it, so embarking one bright morning, he shook it an adieu which made his teeth chatter, which excitement was of course followed by a most subduing fever.
On the fifth day after their departure from Chicago, while crossing the head of Lake Erie, from Detroit river towards Cleveland, John had stretched himself after a shake, upon a settee at the head of the cabin, and in sight of the gangway leading to the boiler deck, and while thus in a reposing attitude he was enjoying quietly his fever, he observed one of the hands ascend from below, his visage all begrimed and covered with a profuse perspiration, and cautiously approach the captain, to whom he whispered something which produced much excitement in the commander's countenance, but his manner exhibited no haste. Coolly walking through the cabin and around the boat, he approached the gangway and looked below, then carefully surveyed the passengers, as if to note whether he waas observed. John, who had been watching his movements, arose from his couch and advanced towards him, the captain spread himself before the hold to prevent his seeing below, whereupon our hero, who had shrewdly guessed the cause of his agitation, whispered in his ear to descend, that he knew the steamer was on fire below, and while endeavouring to quench it, he would divert the attention of any who might approach the hold. The captain thanked him, and John took his post. How dreadful was their situation, yet how unconcerned all on board walked about, or lounged upon seats around the cabin and decks. Beneath them struggled one destroying element, and around them on either side, dancing in the sunbeams, spread another; while like a thread upon the surface of the far-off waters appeared the only land in view. Oh, how the flickering flame struggled in that dark hold for mastery, and how bravely the sinewy arms of its late masters battled to get it again in bondage. At one moment the hissing water appeared to have quenched it, but the next the bright flame curled up far in by the boiler side, and a fold of dark smoke would roll out derisively in the face of its foes. It was a contest for life, and here upon the broad wave the fire had them at fearful odds. In a short time the commander appeared on deck, very much agitated, and taking our hero aside, he declared to him that there was no hope—the fire was increasing! Calling the passengers together, he informed them of their situation, and opening a closet distributed among them a number of life preservers, then ordering the boats cleared, he coolly prepared for the catastrophe. Some of the passengers grew almost frantic; and if not prevented, would have plunged overboard to certain death; others calmly prepared for the worst, and some were amusing in their lamentations.