THE ARGONAUTS OF CALIFORNIA.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Page 204.

 

CHAPTER XIV.

 

The discovery of silver in Nevada--the stage road--hank monk--road agents-- the parson--the stool pigeon—spirits--the boys who captured the thief--a young dick turpin--the Irishman and the road agent.

 

ABOUT the year 1858 occurred another very important event in the history of mining upon the Pacific coast, this being the discovery of silver mines in the State of Nevada. The mines of California contain gold principally, but small quantities of silver being found, and in a few locations only mines of copper, although, except in a few cases, not in paying quantities. In the State adjoining, however, upon the eastern slope of the Nevada range, the rule was reversed, the principal character of the ore being of silver, but small quantities of gold having been so far discovered.

      The excitement throughout the mining regions was intense, and thousands could be seen upon the various roads on their way to the new Eldorado. Hundreds deserted their ranches, miners forsaking their claims, and business men and mechanics also joining in the almost universal stampede. At the commencement of the silver mining industry it could not, for the want of proper machinery and facilities for working the ores, be reduced or worked on the Pacific Coast, and it therefore became necessary to export it to other portions of the country for the purpose. The ore was packed in sacks, placed upon the backs of mules, and in this manner transported across the mountains to San Francisco, from whence it was shipped to the various reduction works in New Jersey, or to Swansea, Wales. In a short time, long trains of mules heavily laden with the valuable silver ore could almost daily be seen wending their way slowly but surely among the rocks and over steep declivities of the mountains, destined for the sea coast.

      The roads through the mining regions were rough, and across the mountains steep and precipitous, it being almost impossible to

 

 

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convey freight or supplies into the silver mines, except upon the backs of mules. This state of affairs was soon changed, however, for roads were immediately commenced, starting from a point a few miles above Placerville, a system of toll roads being constructed across the mountains nearly one hundred miles in extent. The completion of these roads changed, in a short time, the character of the silver mining industry; for by means of them, all the necessary machinery for working the rich ores could easily be transported across the mountains from the foundries and work shops of San Francisco.

      Soon were seen long trains of heavily laden wagons, drawn by mules, containing an endless assortment of iron wheels, pulleys, boilers, smoke-stakes and enormous fly-wheels, as well as all of the various tools and parts of machinery necessary for the working of the mines. Heavily loaded “schooners” also, drawn in some instances by twelve large mules, could often be seen in large numbers stringing along the road for miles, laden with household goods, hardware, groceries and provisions for the use of the vast numbers who had congregated there and were engaged in mining, prospecting, and also in laying foundations of the principal town, Virginia City.

      These toll roads were grand affairs; broad, smooth and as hard as a floor, for they were kept well watered by regular water carts, which being filled from the numerous springs by the roadside, traveled back and forth, sprinkling them thoroughly. This road, during the dry season and when not encumbered by heavy snows upon the summit of the mountains, for several years presented the appearance of a busy street in some cities. Men on foot, and vehicles of all descriptions, were continually passing in one direction or the other. For the convenience of this immense traffic, houses, barrooms and way stations for the accommodation of teamsters and travelers, were necessary and numerous, being situated but a short distance apart along the entire length of the road. Some of them were fine and costly buildings, while others, again, were of the cheapest character.

      This also was the regular stage road, from Sacramento City through Placerville. During the summers of ‘58-’59 the travel over this stage route was very heavy, and for a greater portion of the time two or three stages loaded with passengers left Placerville daily for the silver mines. To drive a stage upon this route the most expert

 

 

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drivers were required; sober and steady men who had great presence of mind, for upon these qualities the lives of passengers, numbering in some instances as many as eighteen or twenty persons, depended, and among them would always be found a few ladies and children. The horses used were usually of a Spanish mustang breed, the wheelers generally being old and steady American horses. Six horses was the usual number required, and the leaders being, as was often the case, only half broken, untamed mustangs, it required drivers who thoroughly understood their business.

      Among these experienced drivers, and the most prominent, was the one who brought Horace Greeley through on time, Hank Monk, and who had the reputation of being one of the most expert drivers on the coast; he died recently in Carson City. Hank Monk was what is termed among stage men a lucky driver, seldom meeting with an accident and no passenger ever having been injured who rode with him. If an accident ever did happen to him upon his route, he kept cool, puffed his cigar, and kept his own counsel.

      A passenger, who on one occasion occupied an outside seat, relates that in descending the steep grade from the mountain side into Carson Valley, and when within about a half-mile of the foot of the grade, the brake bar gave way. The stage, with its load of passengers, rolled forward upon the wheelers, but Hank took an extra turn of the line around his hands, held his cigar firmly between his clenched teeth, and speaking quietly to his mustang leaders said, “Gerlang ! gerlang !” and they certainly did, for never in the history of staging was faster time made down that or any other grade. The passenger sitting beside him became frightened and started to jump, but Monk said, “Set still !” which fortunately for him he did. The passengers inside were frightened at the rate of speed with which the descent was being made, and not knowing the cause of it naturally supposed that some accident had happened to the driver. One of them, therefore, upon thrusting his head out of the window to reconnoitre, met the smiling contenance of Monk, and quieted the fears of his fellow passengers by remarking:

      “We are making pretty fast time; but Hank Monk has hold of the lines, and it’s all

right anyhow.”

      The running wild mustangs were guided safely to the level valley below, and brought to a standstill in front of the hotel for lunch. When asked by some of the passengers why he drove so furiously

 

 

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down that grade, he replied that he was a little behindhand for lunch, that was all.

      There were other stage-drivers also who drove upon this mountain road, although not so well known perhaps as Monk, yet who had high reputations as expert drivers. Among them were Watson and Nelson. There was another one, who, if not so expert as a driver, and possibly did not acquire so great a notoriety in the business as others, at least when alive, created a greater astonishment at death, and this was Charley, the noted stage-driver who had followed the business of stage driving for some years upon various roads throughout the State, and upon whose death, which occurred only recently, it was discovered that the noted stage-driver was a woman.

      It could hardly be expected that a well-traveled road like this, over which so much treasure was being transported, and where so many teamsters were returning with their freight money about them, should be free from the inquisitive eye of the road agent, although it was for a while. The temptation, however, in a short time became too great, and the usual facilities for operating this species of industry rendered the conditions such that if followed from necessity. The business of certain classes of the sporting fraternity among the small towns of the mining regions, had at this time become almost entirely destroyed, and many of them in their desperation had actually gone to work. But with the opening of this new road, with its immense travel and unusual facilities, other opportunities of a little better nature than hard work were brought into existence; and the result was that many availed themselves of them. Teamsters were robbed of their well-earned freight money; travelers on foot, on horseback, and under all conditions, were relieved of their surplus at all points, and at all hours of the day or night.

      It was often amusing, as well as very instructive, to stop by chance at some large hotel where a number of travelers and teamsters had put up for the night, and hear their stories of how they were ordered to stop and pungle by these knights of the road.

      It happened upon one occasion that I stopped for the night at Yank’s Hotel in Lake Valley. There were about forty teamsters stopping over for the night, and they commenced relating their experiences. Several had been relieved of their freight money quiet recently, and they explained, in very graphic language, just where, when, and how it was done. One teamster present was called by his

 

 

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brother teamsters “Big George,” and well he merited the name, for he was a large, powerful man, and drove a twelve-mule bell team. He made it his boast that these chaps on the road knew enough to let him alone, for up to this time he had never been troubled by them; but, singularly enough, upon his return from this very trip he was robbed of his freight money, amounting to something over $500. On his way home he took the Dutch Flat road, and was robbed within half a mile of the town of Marysville.

      By coincidence, about two weeks later the same crowd of teamsters, including “Big George,” I being present also, met again at the same hotel in Lake Valley for the night, and now the remark of “Ah, George, they know enough to let me alone!” would be heard from various ones. After hearing this repeated a number of times, George said that he would give up, they were too much for him, and upon request he gave a very graphic description of the whole affair. He stated that when he was within sight of the town, which was visible a short distance ahead, it was about sundown and he was seated away up in his accustomed place upon his sheepskin, and that just as the wagon was opposite a great boulder which had slid down from the bank above partly obstructing the road, a little bit of a black-eyed cuss, who wasn’t much bigger than a good sized cud of tobacco, jumped from behind it, and placing his foot upon the hub of the forward wheel, at the same time pointing the muzzle of an immense revolver up towards George, commanded him to stop the team.

      “Well, boys, I stopped them,” said George, “but at the same time I put my hand upon my revolver, which was lying all cocked and ready for business right under the sheepskin. He knew pretty well what I was going down there after, you bet, so he jumped on the hub of the wheel and shoved his howitzer close up to my eyes and right down into the barrel I could see the big leaden balls. They appeared to me to be as big as my fist, and just squirming to get at me. Says he, ‘Take your hands off of that,’ and I did. Then the little cuss, says he, ‘Put your purse into my hand.’ At the same time extending it up towards me.”

      “Well, George, what did you do then?” some one asked.

      “I just kept my eye down in the barrel of that six pounder, took out my purse from under the sheepskin carefully and tenderly, for I did hate to give it up to such a little insignificant squib as he

 

 

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was, but ‘twas no use. I just reached over and laid it gently into his hand, like a little man. He jumped down, thanked me kindly, and remarked as it was getting late I had better hurry up or I would lose my supper.”

      Many were the incidents related by these teamsters of their various experiences with the road agents and how they escaped, for at this time many, for fear of robbery, would express their money over, or take in its stead a check which they would have cashed in San Francisco or in Sacramento City upon their return home.

      A gentleman was driving a buggy on his way from Dutch Flat to Virginia City, when, near his destination, he was stopped by a man; a pistol was presented, and the usual formalities were gone through with as is necessary in such cases. The gentleman handed over a $20 gold piece, at the same time remarking that he was very sorry, but that was all he happened to have with him. He noticed in handing it over to the road agent that the latter appeared to be very nervous and frightened, and he remarked to him that he believed his was new to the business. The agent answered that he was and that it was his first offense, and that he only did it from absolute necessity. Upon being further questioned, he stated that he had worked for a whole year in a livery stable as hostler, in a town not far away; that the livery stable keeper failed, and he never received a single dollar. Upon further inquiry it was learned that he had a young wife and two small children living in the State of Ohio.

      “They are really suffering, and, by George,” he said, “I was determined to raise money somehow to send them.”

      The gentleman then informed him that he himself kept a livery stable, and promised to give him a good job if he would get into the buggy with him. After some persuasion he did so, and it was afterwards stated that he proved to be a faithful and competent man, remaining there in the Samaritan’s employ for nearly four years, and the gentleman never stated the facts of the case until after the hostler had returned to his family in the East.

      There were numerous incidents of a similar character constantly occurring on this road.

      A tall, lean and lank specimen of a Downeaster, who was engaged in mining, was very leisurely walking along the road one Sunday afternoon on his way home

 

 

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      He had been out visiting among some of his lady acquaintances and was dressed in the regulation store-clothes style; in place of a collar, however, he wore a plain white handkerchief for a necktie. In consequence of a close resemblance to a certain minister of the gospel who frequently visited that part of the country, he was called by all his acquaintances “the parson.” All at once one of these polite road agents stepped out from behind a tree, and, presenting his weapon, demanded the “parson’s” money instantly, or off would come the top of his head. Now, the parson was totally unprepared for such an encounter, and as he had in his pocket a purse containing about $250, which he didn’t like to part with without a struggle, the question suggested itself at once as to how he could save it. An idea occurred to him, and the fact of his being called a parson could now be made good use of, since he was well aware that he very much resembled one. Especially was this true when dressed up with his old-fashioned black coat and his white necktie, and they saved him. He replied to the demand in a drawling tone, that unfortunately the profession in which he was engaged didn’t enable him to carry about much money, but that he had a prayer-book which might be sold for a trifle, at the same time putting his hand into his coat pocket for the book. The agent, ordering

 

 

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him to take his hand from his pocket, again repeated his demand, or off would come his head and at once, if he didn’t hand over. Then says the parson, in his drawling style:

      “If I must go hence, first let me pray, won’t ye?” at the same time kneeling down in the proper attitude.

      The road agent, being now satisfied that he had sure enough struck a genuine parson, tuned in disgust and remarked as he went away:

      “Oh, pray away all night, if you like, and be d____d!”

      But this little incident, like many others which often occur among the parsons, has a sequel.

      Some four years later, in Sacramento City, the parson and some of his acquaintances were enjoying themselves as miners usually do when visiting the large cities in the barroom of one of the hotels. During the course of the evening, a well-dressed man, who seemed to be serving in some capacity in the hotel, took him by the arm to one side, and asked him if he ever lived up on the toll-road a few miles above Placerville. The parson replied that he did, and that his residence was in a canon near the road, where he was at present mining. The man then asked:

      “You were a minister some four or five years ago, were you not?”

      “Why, no, I weren’t at all; they only called me parson because I looked so much like one. But say, stranger, why do you ask me these questions?”

      “Well, because when that road agent demanded your money, you remember you said you were a preacher, and got right down in the dust to pray.”

      “Yaas, I know that; but you see that chap got the drop on me, and as I had no weapon with me I was bound to save about $250 that I had in my pocket.”

      “Well, says the man, “you did it well, too.”

      “Why,” Yank asks.

      “Why? Because I was the chap who was concerned in that little funny business.”

      “The h____l you was ! Why, you don’t say so ! really though?”

      “Yes, sure. You see I was on the way home from the other side and was dead broke, and I just thought to myself, now here is a good chance. It was my first and last trial in the business, for the idea

 

 

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of robbing a country preacher broke me all up. Do you notice that I am now bald-headed?”

      “Why, yes,” answered the parson; “what’s the matter?”

      The man replied. “I was so disgusted with myself that I shed my hair all out on the way home.”

      “Well, I’ll be doll garned !” exclaimed the parson. “Let’s go and take suthin’.”

      And, by the way, this reminds me of another incident of a similar nature, where the principal actor could not resist a good chance.

      The robberies or attempts to rob became so frequent within a few miles of town, that it was very evident that the men engaged in the business were a part of the sporting class, with which the town at this time was filled.  They would go up the road, leaving town late at night, and return before daylight. Many were suspected, but for want of evidence they could not be arrested. The sheriff, equal to the emergency, employed a man who had himself been in that business in some other quarter of the globe but who had reformed, to act as a spy or stool pigeon; to go out upon the road at night and endeavor to recognize some of these sporting chaps.

      On the day following, an old gentleman complained at the sheriff’s office of having bee stopped upon the road and robbed of quite a sum of money, and remarked that he believed that he could recognize the chap if he could see him, as it was not a very dark night. Just at this moment our stool pigeon, or highway detective, entered the door. The old gentleman took a good, square look at him, and exclaimed:

      “There ! There ! That’s the chap who robbed me. !”

      The sheriff said to him:

      “Tom, did you rob this man?”

      “Oh, yes,” he relied, “and here is the money, at the same time throwing the purse upon the table.

      When asked why he did it he replied,

      “Well, it was such a good chance that I really couldn’t help it.”

      The murder and robbery of Capt. Harmon of Smith’s Flat, a mining camp a few miles above Placerville, is worth mentioning, for there is one very mysterious circumstances in connection with this man which is difficult of explanation.

      The captain had been a seafaring man for many years, and, having become tired of the sea, he came up to this mining camp in the

 

 

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spring of ‘57 and opened a small store. It was noticed by many, in fact it was well known among all who had made his acquaintance, that he was almost daily in the habit of seating himself in the back part of his store and holding a conversation, as he very earnestly maintained, with his wife who had been dead about seventeen years, and with a daughter also who had been dead but a few years.

      It was useless to argue or to reason with him in relation to the matter, for he maintained most positively that such was really the case, and they often conversed upon their family affairs and of events which had occurred in early life. It was the general opinion among all that the captain was of course insane upon that subject, and for this reason but little was ever said about it. Spiritualism, at this early day, at least in this part of the country, had not yet been invented, although at the East it was being developed gradually, having at this date progressed as far as table-tipping and other similar phenomena. For this reason, when the captain maintained that he was conversing with the spirits of his wife and daughter, it could not be accepted.

      If I am mot mistaken, I think that he had been in the camp about eighteen months, when, one day, he made known to a number of his customers that he had been informed the day before by his wife that he was soon to leave all earthly affairs and live with his family in the other world. He said that his wife did not inform him just when he should die, or by what means, and she had refused to enlighten him any further, only insisting that he would soon be with them. The news seemed to make him feel rather down-hearted; not, as he said, from a knowledge of the fact of his going, but the means which would be used to take his life. He had no enemies that he knew of, and was, furthermore, in very good health. The boys tried to laugh him out of the thought of such a thing, but it was of no use. He received the news from his wife upon a Sunday, and on the morning of the Thursday following he was found upon his bed dead, having been killed with an ax by a Mexican. The safe was broken open and robbed also. The axe was soon found in a shaft, and the Mexican who owned it was arrested, tried and executed.

      Another instance in which two courageous and bright specimens of young America took a very active part, occurred in Eldorado County, some time during the year ‘63.

 

 

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      These boys, about 12 years of age, with their shot guns started out one pleasant morning on a hunt, and in passing the cabin of a miner, they saw coming from it a strange, suspicious looking character, who was loaded down with plunder. Being satisfied that the man was a thief, they ordered him to return the goods to the cabin, which he did. With their guns in readiness, they then ordered him to walk in the trail ahead of them, and in this manner they marched the fellow into Placerville, a distance of nearly three miles, into the hospitable arms of Sheriff Rogers, who gave him a very cordial reception. Upon investigation, he proved to be an ex-convict, and a very dangerous man, but unfortunately for him and very fortunately for the boys, too, at this time he was unarmed.

      On the way to town, he tried every means to prevail upon the boys to lay down their guns. He offered to bet them five dollars that they could not kill a bird perched upon a bush near the trail. One of the boys remarked that “Them wasn’t the kinds of birds we’re huntin’ for; we’re huntin’ only for jail birds.” He promised them in case they would just lay their guns down in the grass for a minute or so, he would give each of ‘em a great many shares of stock in one of the richest mines in the Comstock.

      They politely informed him that the only kind of stock they cared about just then was gun stock, and that they had shares enough of that to go round.

      One of the most laughable cases of highway robbery occurred a few years later in Sonoma County, the agent in the affair being a youth about fourteen years of age. Commencing in fun, he unfortunately ended his joke in dead earnest.

      This young man was walking out upon the road one evening, and hearing the stage coming behind him, in order to avoid being run over, climbed upon the bank alongside the road. The latter was very narrow and sandy at this point, and the horses were walking.

      Now, near to the edge of the bank where the boy was standing was a picket fence, and to keep from falling he was obliged to hug rather closely to it. In doing so one of the pickets became loose, just as the stage had got opposite him. In a spirit of fun, without calculating upon the effect of the movement, he pointed his loose picket toward the driver of the stage, and in a course professional tone demanded him to stop; and, to his astonishment, the

 

 

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driver stopped the team. To carry out the joke, he then ordered the driver to throw out Wells & Fargo’s treasure box; and he was again astonished to see the order promptly obeyed and the treasure box fall near him upon the bank. It now became necessary, in order to continue the joke to a favorable termination, to give one more peremptory order, and to hesitate was to be lost. So he commanded the driver to “Go on !”

      The stage with its load of passengers started onward, leaving the treasure in care of the picket guard. Now came the crisis in the affair; the last act in the drama which was to determine the future destiny of a bright specimen of Young America.

      The boy seated himself upon the box and rubbed his eyes and scratched his head to satisfy himself ‘twas not all a dream. He said to himself:

      “Now here is an opportunity come to me that I never dreamed or thought of before. Is it my destiny? Now shall I be a good little boy, take back the box and tell’em that I only done it for fun, or shall I keep on jest as them bank cashiers and other fellers do

 

 

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sometimes, and make the most of such opportunities that come without huntin’ for um?”

      He concluded that if it was only done for a joke, he had carried it a little too far, but if it was done in dead earnest, he hadn’t quite finished the job. While thus meditating between the two opposite courses and upon the future possibilities, he finally decided that he would finish the job, and adopt the profession of a road agent, conscious of the ability to make it a complete success, and even rival Black Bart himself in the profession of a stage inspector. He also thought how he could jest make Jime Hume hump himself a-trying to follow his trail.

      The boy was, perhaps, justified in this conclusion by what he had accomplished with the aid of a single picket, and therefore judged of what he might be able to do if backed by an entire fence. With such thoughts running through his mind, and which, no doubt, he had acquired from the perusal of certain papers published exclusively for the benefit of such boys, giving very graphic accounts of the exploits of “Three-Fingered Jack,” “The Bandit’s Bride,” as well as others of a similar character, and with such bright visions of future notoriety looming up before him, he wrestled with the treasure box for a few minutes, the latter soon looking as though it had been chasing a cyclone, and had caught it. By means of a big rock he had turned the box wrong side out, and the golden coin was scattered about among the grass, glistening in the starlight. But unfortunately for our infant hero his career was short, and for the same reasons, perhaps, that other great enterprises often end in failure; he had engaged in a profession that he had not the capacity, experience, or the necessary qualities to fill, and it therefore ended by his being locked up.

      It was about the year ‘66 that an Irishman drove ahead of him into the town of Placerville a road agent, whom he had captured out on the toll-road a few miles above.

      When asked by Mr. Griffith, the sheriff, how he had managed to capture such a man, who, by the way, was much the larger as well as the younger of the two, Pat replied:

      “Indade, thin, I was jist a traveling along the road alone by meself, do yez moind; attending to me own business and havin’ no thought of harum at all, whin, all to onct, this dirthy spallpeen came out from behind a bush, and, pinting his gun at me hid, says

 

 

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to me, ‘An’ will yez plase be afther handling me ther kine that yez are carryin’ about with yez, and be hasty about it, too, or darmed if Oi don’t blow the hid off av yez.’

      “Say Oi: ‘Yez will, thin?’ Says he: ‘Indeed thin Oi will.’ ‘But hold aisy, now,’ says Oi, ‘divil a bit will yez do that same,’ and I commenced to fale about in me pockets to say if Oi cud sthrike some kine, but divil a bit cud Oi sthrike ther color of it at all at all. An’ so says Oi: ‘Bad luck to it, thin, but Oi have left me purse with me agent in town.’ ‘An’ who’s yer agent in town,’ says he. ‘Indade, thin, would yez loike to make his acquaintance? Says Oi. ‘Oi would,’ says he. ‘An’ yez shall, thin,’ says Oi. An’ jist at this pint, do yez moind, Oi extended out me lift hand an’ saized his gun, an’ thin yez cud say mothin’ at all fer the dust that was afther continually risin’ from the ground, begorrah. An’ be jabers it seemed to me that two of thim cyclones had met at ther spot, and was afther havin’ a wrestling’ match, do yez see? Prisintly there was a dull sound, do yez moind, and thin all was quiet. The dust clared away, and jist there in front of me, be jabers, was sthanding ther chap who wanted me kine. But phawt was Oi a

 

 

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doin’ mesilf dooring the toime, do yez ask? Indade, thin, it was doorin’ ther great commotion of the illimints, do yez moid, thet Oi succaded in turnin’ his right flank, be jabers, an’ gittin’ around’ to ther rear of me inimy and climbin’ up over his shoulder to ther top av him, do yez see. Oi was jist afther holding him at bay, and wid dee phunny end of me gun jist a swaiping the flois from his oibrows, do yez see. Thin says Oi: ‘’Tis me agent yez would loike to see?’ ‘No, not to-day,’ says he, ‘for Oi’m busy.’ ‘Indade, thin, but Oi’m sure thet yez do,’ says Oi, ‘an’ we’ll be afther traveling together to say Mr. Griffith, me agent in town, sor. He is a fine gintleman, and the latch-sthring av his hotel is continually hangin’ handy to raich for ther loikes of yez. He’ll be afther tinderin’ to yez the hospitality av his fine manshun, an’ indade, thin, it will not cost yez a cent. Now forward, march, and Oi’ll follow yez, an’ ‘twill be an honor to yez, too, to be sane traveling the road wid an honest gintleman loike meself a following’ afther yez, as a varlet o’ chamber, begorra.’”

 

 

 

 

Transcribed by: Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

Proofread by Betty Vickroy.


© 2008 Jeanne Sturgis Taylor.

 

 

 

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