At a little distance, was an open glade, upon which the moonlight now fell with a dazzling splendor. In the centre of this spot there sat at least a hundred figures, which seemed to me to be men and women, about half the size of life. Upon a branch of a tree, which projected over them, was another figure, who seemed to be addressing the assembly. He uttered the most extraordinary sounds, and appeared to be speaking in a very animated manner. His gestures were strong, quick, and emphatic. Sometimes he sat upon his haunches, and sometimes he stood upright. Occasionally he leaped from one branch of the tree to another, and at times he swung off from his seat, and suspended himself by his tail. This last performance led me to conclude that if this was a congregation of human beings, they must be of rather a queer species.
I sat still, and for a long time observed the scene. Nothing could exceed the seeming eloquence of the preacher, except the sympathy and sensibility of the audience. They appeared to feel every tone and gesture, and responded by sympathetic grunts, groans, yells, and every possible variety of attitude and gesticulation. At last, the orator, having uttered a tremendous burst of eloquence, leaped from his rostrum, and came with a bound into the midst of the congregation. Upon this, they all set up a shout, which echoed far and wide over the scene.
I had become so interested in this spectacle, that I had risen from my resting-place, and advanced so far as to be near the actors in this curious drama. One of them now chanced to spy me; upon which he uttered a terrific yell. The eyes of the whole assembly were turned upon me, and, uttering a frightful howl, they all set out, and came bounding toward me. Never in my life have I been placed in a situation at once so ludicrous and so appalling. A hundred monkeys now surrounded me; some mounting the trees over my head, and some winding among the bushes at my feet; some howling, and all grinning at me, and making the most threatening demonstrations.
Bill and the Boys.
The story of the lottery ticket, concluded.
We might have supposed that the Trudges, being now rich, and having attained what seemed the summit of Mrs. Trudge’s ambition, were perfectly happy. But this was far from being the case. They lived in a fine house, made a great dash, were admitted into what is called good society, and fancied that they were exciting the envy and admiration of the whole town of Buckwheat. But with all this show of bliss, there were many drawbacks to their felicity.
In the first place, as to Tom,—or Squire Trudge, as we must now call him,—he was a simple-minded, sensible fellow, and but for the example and influence of his spouse, he had borne his prosperity without intoxication. Indeed, as it was, he behaved with considerable propriety. He spoke to his neighbors, as he met them, much as before, and when he could get from under his wife’s supervision, he would stop and chat familiarly with old intimates. He demeaned himself modestly, and seemed little elated with his good fortune. He was kind-hearted, and ready to befriend the needy; but still, he had many sources of vexation.
His restless helpmate insisted that he should dress “as became his station;” and accordingly he was compelled to wear tight shoes, which pinched his corns terribly, and kept him in an almost constant state of martyrdom. When he walked abroad, he put his foot to the ground as gingerly as if he were stepping on eggs. He was required to have his coat in the fashion, which trussed him up about the arms, and made those limbs stand out upon each side of him, like a couple of pump-handles. His neckcloth, of pure white, (as was the fashion then,) was lined with what was called a pudding; and to please his dame, who had a nice taste in these matters, he tied it so tight that it threw the blood into his face, and gave his ruddy complexion a liver-colored hue.
Nor was this all poor Tom had to endure. He was constantly “hatchelled” as to his manners, somewhat after the following fashion: “My dear Trudge,” his wife would say to him, “do now try to be a gentleman. Pray wipe your nose with your pocket handkerchief, and not with your fingers! Turn your toes out, man, or people will never forget that you was once a pedler. Hold your head up, step large, swing your arms bravely, and seem to be somebody. In short, pray do be genteel.”
“Well, well, wife,” Trudge would reply; “I’ll do as well as I can.” The dialogue would usually go on pretty much as follows.