“And now we come to—to—ah—to—Putnam—General Putnam: he fought in the war, too; and one day a lot of ’em caught him when he was off his guard, and they tied him flat on his back on a horse, and then licked the horse like the very mischief. And what does that horse do but go pitching down about four hundred stone steps in front of the house, with General Putnam lying there nearly skeered to death! Leastways the publisher said somehow that way, and I once read about it myself. But he came out safe, and I reckon sold the horse, and made a pretty good thing of it. What surprises me is, he didn’t break his neck; but maybe it was a mule, for they’re pretty sure-footed, you know. Surprising what some of these men have gone through, ain’t it?
“Turn over a couple of leaves. That’s General Jackson. My father shook hands with him once. He was a fighter, I know. He fit down in New Orleans. Broke up the rebel legislature, and then, when the Ku Kluxes got after him, he fought ’em behind cotton breastworks, and licked ’em till they couldn’t stand. They say he was terrific when he got real mad,—hit straight from the shoulder, and fetched his man every time. Andrew, his fust name was; and look how his hair stands up.
“And then, here’s John Adams, and Daniel Boone, and two or three pirates, and a whole lot more pictures, so you see it’s cheap as dirt. Lemme have your name, won’t you?”
THE ENGINEER’S STORY.
Han’som, stranger? Yes, she’s purty, an’ ez peart ez she kin be. Clever? W’y, she ain’t no chicken, but she’s good enough fur me. What’s her name? ’Tis kind o’ common, yit I ain’t ashamed to tell, She’s ole “Fiddler” Filkin’s daughter, and her dad he calls her “Nell.”
I wuz drivin’ on the Central jist about a year ago, On the run from Winnemucca up to Reno in Washoe. There’s no end o’ skeery places. ’Tain’t a road fur one who dreams, With its curves an’ awful tres’les over rocks an’ mountain streams.
’Twuz an afternoon in August; we hed got behind an hour, An’ wuz tearin’ up the mountain like a summer thunder-shower, Round the bends an’ by the ledges ’bout ez fast ez we could go, With the mountain-peaks above us an’ the river down below.
Ez we come nigh to a tres’le cros’t a holler, deep an’ wild, Suddenly I saw a baby,—’twuz the station-keeper’s child,— Toddlin’ right along the timbers with a bold an’ fearless tread, Right afore the locomotive, not a hundred rods ahead.
I jist jumped, an’ grabbed the throttle, an’ I fa’rly held my breath, Fur I felt I couldn’t stop her till the child was crushed to death, When a woman sprang afore me like a sudden streak o’ light, Caught the boy, an’ twixt the timbers in a second sank from sight.