“I grant it!” shouted Edwards, glad here to wind up the apology, then turning round he added, “come boys, let us drink good friends.”
“Wait a minit, boys,” said Hoss, “the Jedge and I havin' smoothed that little marter over, I jest want to tell you why I didn't know him at fust sight. You all know that the mosquitoes in cedar swamp are an oreful hungry breed, and when they git a passenger they present him with numerous 'relief bills;' well I had gained considerable popularity in that swamp, by presentin' their condition before the legislatur' and askin' for reliet for the distressed inhabitants,—the Jedge, to head me down thar, passed all last night on a limb of one of the trees makin' stump speeches to the varmints, and you can see by his countenance that expectin' to be elected he has accepted all their mosquito bills!”
One tremendous shout rent the air, followed by bursts of laughter, from which Edwards retreated into the hotel. We have but to add that Hoss carried the Bar counties “as easy as rolling off a log!” His antagonist in vain tried to stem the tide of fun,—when he essayed to speak a m-e-o-w of a wild-cat or the hum of a mosquito imitated by some of his audience would be sure to set the rest sniggering, and spoil his effort.
NATURAL ACTING! DAN MARBLE'S FIRST APPEARANCE AT GRAND RIVER, MICHIGAN.
Several years since our friend Dan Marble, the celebrated representative of Yankee characters, was performing an engagement at Detroit, and was persuaded by some friends to take a trip to Chicago, and give them a taste of his quality in the lake city. Dan consented, and on board of the good steamer Constitution, commanded by a skilful captain, under the care of Doty, one of the best lake engineers, and piloted by Gus. McKinstry, they set out in the fall of the year for their northern destination. All went “merry as a marriage bell;” they had a successful trip up,—Dan had a successful engagement—and back they started for Detroit. But now the elements became rebellious; whether rude Boreas resolved to keep this favorite son of Momus up there in his northern home, we know not, but when the vessel that bore his fortunes—his own comical self—had nearly reached the head of the lake, against a head wind that would almost tear off a shirt collar, they run out of wood, and was forced to scud back to Milwaukee a “leetle dust faster than they wanted tu.” They loaded up with the fuel again, and shutting their teeth with determination, they fastened tight the safety valve, and tried it again right in the teeth of the hurricane. After puffing, and blowing, and wheezing, and coughing, the old boat had to give in, and hunt a harbor. Fate drove them into Grand River—we say, Fate did it, in order, as we think, to keep up the character of a grand stream by opening a dramatic temple on its banks, with an exhibition of the budding greatness of a genius. Fate, you know, has the ordering of such things.
The noble steamer came to anchor in the quiet river, between its towering sand banks, and old “blow hard” tossed the lake wave on the outside, top-mast high, with glee, at having penned Dan. Down came an inhabitant of the town of Grand River, who had seen Dan perform at Buffalo, and recognising him, up he posted to spread the news. In the meantime, those on board were wondering how they should pass the weary hours, if the fierce wind continued its fury. Presently, down comes another resident to the boat, a small cat-skin cap on his head, a Canada-mixed coat on, and dressed in deer-skin breeches.
“Whar is he?—which is him?—consarn his comic pictur, show him out—ha-ha-ha!”
“Who are you lookin' after, Mister?” inquired the pilot.