The Humors of Falconbridge

Miss Scarlatina agreed with the rest of the company, that it cost Uncle Joe Blinks more to go to Saratogy than it came to, and they all concluded – not to go there themselves, just then – any how!

Old Jack Ringbolt

Had been spinning old Mrs. Tartaremetic any quantity of salty yarns; she was quite surprised at Mr. Ringbolt's ups and downs, trials, travels and tribulations. Honest Jack (!) had assured the old dame that he had sailed over many and many cities, all under water, and whose roofs and chimneys, with the sign-boards on the stores, were still quite visible. He had seen Lot's wife, or the pillar of salt she finally was frozen into!

"And did you see that – Lot's wife?" asked the old lady.

"Yes, marm; but 'tain't there now – the cattle got afoul of the pillar of salt one day, and licked it all up!"

"Good gracious! Mr. Ringbolt!"

"Fact, marm; I see'd 'em at it, and tried to skeer 'em away."

"Well, Mr. Ringbolt, you've seen so much, and been around so, I'd think you would want to settle down, and take a wife!"

Who Killed Capt. Walker?

Few incidents of the campaign in Mexico seem so mixed up and indefinite as that relative to the taking of Huamantla, and the death of that noble and chivalric officer, Capt. Walker. In glancing over the papers of Major Mammond, of Georgia, which he designates the "Secondary Combats of the Mexican War," we observe that he has given an account of the engagement at Huamantla, and the fall of Walker. We believe the Major's account, compiled as it is from "the documents," to be in the main correct, but lacking incidental pith, and slightly erroneous in the grand denouement, in which our gallant friend – whose manly countenance even now stares us in the face, as if in life he "yet lived" – yielded up the balance of power on earth.

We have taken some pains, and a great deal of interest surely, in coming at the facts; and no time seems so proper as the present – several of the chivalric gentlemen of that day and occasion, being now around us – to give the story its veritable exhibition of true interest.

Capt. S. H. Walker was a Marylander, a young man of the truest possible heroism and gallantry. He entered upon the campaign with all the ardor and enterprise of a soldier devoted to the best interests of his country. He commanded a company of mounted men, whose bravery was only equalled by his own, and whose discipline and hardiness has been unsurpassed, if equalled, by any troops of the world. We shall skip over the thousand and one incidents of the line of action in which Walker, Lewis, and their brave companions in arms did gallant service, to come at the sanguinary and truly thrilling denouement.

Gen. Lane, after the landing and organization of his troops at Vera Cruz, with some 2500 men, started for Puebla, where it was understood that Col. Childs required reinforcement. Lane left Jalapa on the 1st of October, and hurried forward with Lally's command. At Perote, Lane learned that Santa Anna would throw himself upon his muscle, and give the advancing columns jessy at the pass of Pinal, and there was every prospect of a very tight time. Col. Wynkoop was in command at Perote; the men were anxious to be "in" at the fight in prospective, and Wynkoop obtained permission to join the General with four companies of the Pennsylvania Regiment; a small battery of the 3d Artillery, under command of Capt. Taylor, with Capts. Walker, of the Texan Rangers, and Lewis, of the Louisiana Cavalry. The column was now swelled to some 2800. They moved rapidly forward, and upon reaching Tamaris, Lane heard that the old fox was off – Santa Anna had gone to Huamantla. Lane determined to hunt him up with haste. The main force was left at Tamaris. Troops were forwarded – advanced by Walker's Rangers and Lewis's Cavalry – who approached to within sight, or nearly so, of Huamantla. The orders to Walker were to advance to the town, and if the Mexicans were in force, to wait for the Infantry to come up. Walker's command rated about 200 men. Upon reaching the outskirts of Huamantla, the Mexican Cavalry were seen dashing forward into the town, and the brave Walker ordered a pursuit.

Santa Anna was evidently in the town. Capt. Walker, says his gallant comrade Lewis, made up his mind to be the captor of the wily old chief. The fair prospect of accomplishing the deed so excited Walker, that danger and death were alike secondary considerations, and so the command charged into the town. Some 500 lancers met the charge, but with terrific impetuosity the Rangers and Cavalry dashed in among them, cutting them down right and left, and soon sent them flying in all directions! It was at this moment, says Capt. Lewis, that one of the most heroic acts of bravery was performed, unsurpassed, perhaps, by any act of personal daring during the whole war! A tremendous negro, a fine, manly fellow, named Dave, belonging to Capt. Walker, with whom he was brought up – boys together – being mounted, and armed with a heavy sabre, dashed forward down a narrow street, (up which, a detached body of lancers were striving to escape,) and throwing himself between three poised lances and the person of Dr. Lamar, one of the surgeons, who would have been most inevitably torn to atoms, Dave raised himself in his saddle, and with a yell, and one fell swoop, the heroic fellow "chopped down" a lancer, clean and clear to his saddle! Two lancers pierced Dave's body, and he fell from his horse, dead!

Charging up to the Plaza – the Mexicans flying – Capt. Walker dismounted, with some thirty of his men, and advanced up a flight of steps to force an entrance into a church or convent, where he supposed Santa Anna was hid away. The flying lancers were pursued by the Rangers, who, very injudiciously, of course, scattered themselves over the town.

Capt. Lewis, in the mean time, had found a large yard attached to a temporary garrison, in which were some sixty horses, equipped ready for immediate use, and which the Mexicans had, in their hurry to escape, left behind them! The irregular firing of the Rangers, in pursuit of the Mexicans, being deemed useless and unnecessary, Capt. Lewis left several of his men, among whom was "Country McCluskey," the noted pugilist, a volunteer in Capt. Lewis's company, to guard the horses, while he rode forward to the convent.

"Capt. Walker," said Lewis, "I deem it, sir, not only useless, but bad policy, to allow that firing by the men, around the town."

Capt. Walker immediately ordered the firing to cease, and being apprized of Capt. Lewis's discovery of the horses, &c., ordered him to bring up his command. Capt. Lewis wheeled his horse; some one fired close by, and Capt. Walker cried out —

"Who was that? I'll shoot down the next man who fires against my orders!"

At that moment three guns were fired from the convent – and simultaneously a cannon was fired down the street, from a party of Mexicans in the distance. Capt. Lewis faced about just in time to see Capt. Walker drop down upon the steps of the convent, as he emphatically expresses it, —

"Like a lump of lead, sir!"

The piece up the street was fired again. Capt. Lewis ordered the fallen, gallant Walker, to be placed upon the steps close to the wall. A shot from the piece alluded to striking off the stone and mortar, he ordered the doors to be forced, and Capt. Walker to be taken in, which was done. The bugle sounded, and in an instant a horde of lancers poured into the town, rushing down upon the Americans from every avenue! Capt. Lewis had wheeled about to collect his men, when he found McCluskey and others leading out "the pick" of the captured horses.

"Drop – drop the horses, you fool, and mount! Mount, sir, mount!"

They mounted fast enough; Lewis formed, and met the enemy in gallant style; and though there were ten, aye, twenty to one, possibly, he drove them back! To quote our friend, Major Hammond's words, "Lewis, of the Louisiana Cavalry, assumed command, struggled ably to preserve the guns (captured), and held his position fairly, until assistance arrived."

One hundred and fifty of the enemy fell, while of the Rangers and Cavalry some twenty-five were killed and wounded. They were engaged nearly an hour, and the bravery displayed by Walker, Lewis, and their men, was worthy of general admiration, and all honor.

Poor Walker! a ball struck him in the left shoulder, passed over his heart, and came out in his right vest pocket!

Thus fell the gallant leader of one of the most formidable war parties, of its numbers, known to history. Walker was a humane, impulsive man; a warm friend, a brave, gallant soldier. His dying words were directed to Capt. Lewis – to keep the town, and drive back the enemy; and that the chivalrous Captain did so, was well proven. Capt. Walker, and his heroic "boy" Dave, who fell unknown to his master, were buried together in the earth they so lately stood upon, in all the glory and heroism of men that were men!

Practical Philosophy

Skinflint and old Jack Ringbolt had a dispute on Long Wharf, a few days since, upon a religious pint. Jack argued the matter upon a specie basis, and Skinflint took to "moral suasion." Jack went in for equal division of labor and money – all over the world.

"Suppose, now, John," says Skinflint, "we rich men should share equal with the poor – their imprudence would soon throw all the wealth into our hands again!"

"Wall," says Jack, "s'pose it did! You'd only have to —share all around again!"

Borrowed finery; or, Killed off by a Ballet Girl

Shakspeare has written – "let him that's robbed – not wanting what is stolen, not know it, and he's not robbed at all!" Now this fact often becomes very apparent, especially so in the case of Mrs. Pompaliner, – a lady of whom we have had occasion to speak before, the same who sent Mrs. Brown, the washerwomen, sundry boxes of perfume to mix in her suds, while washing the pyramids of dimity and things of Mrs. P. There never was a lady – no member of the sex, that ever suffered more, from dread of contagion, fear of dirt, and the contamination of other people, than Mrs. Pompaliner.

"Olivia," said she, one morning, to one of her waiting maids, for Mrs. Pompaliner kept three, alternating them upon the principle of varying her handkerchiefs, gloves and linen, as they – in her double-distilled refined idea of things, became soiled by use, from time to time. "Olivia, come here – Jessamine, you can leave: " she was so intent upon odor and nature's purest loveliness, that she either sought sweet-scented cognomened waiting-maids, or nick-named them up to the fanciful standard of her own.

"Olivia, here, take this handkerchief away, take the horrid thing away. I believe my soul somebody has touched it after it was ironed. Do take it away," and the poor victim of concentrated, double extract of human extravagance, almost fainted and fell back upon her lounge, in a fit of abhorrence at the idea of her mouchoir being touched, tossed, or opened, after it entered her camphorated drawers in her highly-perfumed boudoir.

"Olivia!"

"Yes'm," was the response of the fine, ruddy, and wholesome looking maid.

"Olivia, put on your gloves."

"Yes'm."

"Go down to Mrs. Brown's," she faintly says – "tell her to come here this very day."

"Yes'm."

"Olivia!"

"Yes'm," replied the fine-eyed, real woman.

"Got your gloves on?"

"Yes'm."

"Well, take this key, go to my boudoir, in the fifth drawer of my papier mache black bureau, you will find a case of handkerchiefs."

"Yes'm."

"Take out three, yes, four, close the case, lock the drawer, close the boudoir door, and bring down the handkerchiefs upon my rosewood tray. Do you comprehend, Olivia?"

"Yes'm," said the girl.

"But come here; let me see your hands. O, horror! such gloves! touch my handkerchiefs or bureau drawers with those horrid gloves! Poison me!" cries the terrified woman.

"Olivia," she again ejaculates, after a moment's pause, from overtasked nature!

"Yes'm," the blushing, tickled blonde replies.

"Go call Vanilla, you are quite soiled now. I want a fresh servant, retire."

"Ah, Vanilla, girl, have you got your gloves on?"

"Yes'm," the yellow girl modestly answers.

"Then do go and bring me six handkerchiefs from my boudoir, in the fifth drawer of my black papier mache bureau. Let me see your gloves, dear.

"Ah, Vanilla, you are to be depended upon; your gloves are clean – now run along, dear, for I'm suffering for a fresh, new, and untouched handkerchief.

"Ah, that's well. Now, Vanilla, go to Mrs. Brown's, my laundress – say that I wish her to come here, immediately."

"Yes'm," says the bright quadroon, and away she spins for the domicil of democratic Mrs. Brown, the laundress.

"Now what's up, I'd like to know?" quoth the old woman.

"Dunno, missus wants to see you – guess you better come," says Vanilla.

"Deuce take sich fussy people," says Mrs. Brown; "I wouldn't railly put up with all her dern'd nonsense, ef she wa'n't so poorly, so weak in her mind and body, and so good about paying for her work. No, I declare I wouldn't," said the strong-minded woman.

"Bring the creature up," said Mrs. Pompaliner, as one of her fresh attendants announced the washerwoman.

"Ah, you are here?"

"Yes," said the fat, hardy, and independent, if awkward, Mrs. Brown, as she stood in the august presence of Mrs. Pompaliner, and the gorgeous trappings of her own private drawing-room.

"Yes, I believe I am, ma'am!" says the she-democrat.

"Vanilla, tell Olivia to bring Jessamine here."

"Yes'm."

"Now Mrs. a – what is your name?"

"Brown, Dorcas Brown; my husband and I – "

"Never mind, that's sufficient, Mrs. a – Brown," said the reclining Mrs. Pompaliner. "I wish to know if anybody is permitted to touch or handle any of my wardrobe, my linen, handkerchiefs, hose, gloves, laces, etc., in your house?"

"Tetch 'em!" echoes the rotund laundress; "why of course we've got to tetch 'em, or how'd we get 'em ironed and put in your baskets, ma'am?"

"Do you pretend to say, Mrs. a – Brown – O dear! dear! I am afraid you have ruined all my clothes!"

"Ruined 'em?" quoth Mrs. Brown, coloring up, like a fresh and lively lobster immersed in a pot of highly caloric water.

"I want to know if the things ain't been done this week as well as I ever did 'em, could do 'em, or anybody could do 'em on this mighty yeath (earth), ma'am!"

"Come, come, don't get me flustered, woman," cries the poor, faint Mrs. Pompaliner. "Don't come here to worry me; answer me and go."

"So I can go, ma'am!" said Mrs. Brown, with a vigorous toss of her bullet head.

"Stop, will you understand me, Mrs. – a – "

"Brown, ma'am, Brown's my name. I ain't afeard to let anybody know it!" responded the spunky laundress.

The arrival of Olivia, who ushered in Jessamine, turned the current of affairs.

"Jessamine, your gloves on, dear?"

"Yes'm."

"Then go to my boudoir, open the rose-wood clothes case, bring down the skirts, a dozen or two of the mouchoirs, the laces and hose."

The girl departed, and soon returned with a ponderous paper box, laden with the articles required.

"Now," said Mrs. Pompaliner, "now, Brown, look at those articles; don't you see that they have been touched?"

"Tetched! lord-a-massy, ma'am, how'd you get 'em ironed, folded and brought home, ma'am, without tetching 'em?"

"Olivia, Vanilla, where are you? Jessamine, dear, bring me a fresh handkerchief, ignite a pastile, there's such an odor in the room. Do you smell, Mrs. a – Brown, that horrid lavender or rose, or, or, – do you smell it, Brown?"

"Lord-a-massy, ma'am," said the old woman of suds, "I ollers smell a dreadful smell here; them parfumeries o' yourn, I often tell my Augusty, I wonder them stinkin' – "

"O! O! dear!" cries Mrs. Pompaliner, going off "into a spell;" recovering a little, Mrs. Pompaliner proceeds to state that for some time past, she had been troubled with a presentiment, that her fine clothes had been tampered with after leaving the smoothing iron, and how fatal to her would be the fact of any mortal daring to use, in the remotest manner, any fresh garment or personal apparel of hers! Suspicion had been aroused, the articles before the parties were now diligently examined, when, lo! a spot, not unlike a slight smear of vermilion, was discovered upon a splendid handkerchief – it gave Mrs. P. an electric shock; but, O horror! the next thing turned up was a spangle, big as a half dime, upon one of Mrs. P.'s most superb skirts! This awful revelation, connected with the smell of vile lavender and worse patchouly, upon another piece of woman gear, threw Mrs. Pompaliner into spasms, between the motions of which she gasped:

"You have a daughter, Mrs. Brown?"

"Yes, I have."

"How old is she?"

"About seventeen, ma'am."

"And she a – ?"

"Dances in the theatre, ma'am!"

The whole thing was out: the sacred garments of Mrs. P. had not only been touched by sacrilegious hands, but had had an airing, and smelt the lamps of the play-house! Mrs. Pompaliner was so shocked, that four first-class physicians tended her for a whole season.

Mrs. Brown lost a profitable customer, and well walloped her ballet-nymph daughter Augusty, for attiring herself in the finery of her most possibly particular and sensitive customer! It was awful!

Legal Advice

Old Ben. Franklin said it was his opinion that, between imprisonment and being at large in debt to your neighbor, there was no difference worthy the name of it. Some people have a monstrous sight of courage in debt, more than they have out of it, while we have known some, who, though not afraid to stand fire or water, shook in their very boots – wilted right down, before the frown of a creditor! A man that can dun to death, or stand a deadly dun, possesses talents no Christian need envy; for, next to Lucifer, we look upon the confirmed "diddler" and professional dun, for every ignoble trait in the character of mankind. A friend at our elbow has just possessed us of some facts so mirth-provoking, (to us, not to him,) that we jot them down for the amusement and information of suffering mankind and the rest of creation, who now and then get into a scrimmage with rogues, lawyers and law. And perhaps it may be as well to let the indefatigable tell his own story:

"You see, Cutaway dealt with me, and though he knew I was dead set against crediting anybody, he would insist, and did – get into my books. I let it run along until the amount reached sixty dollars, and Cutaway, instead of stopping off and paying me up, went in deeper! Getting in debt seemed to make him desperate, reckless! One day he came in when I was out; he and his wife look around, and, by George! they select a handsome tea-set, worth twenty dollars, and my fool clerk sends it home.

"'Tell him to charge it!' says Cutaway, to the boy who took the china home; and I did charge it.

"The upshot of the business was, I found out that Cutaway was a confirmed diddler; he got all he wanted, when and where he could, upon the 'charge it' principle, and had become so callous to duns, that his moral compunctions were as tough as sole leather – bullet-proof.

"I was vexed, I was mad, I determined to break one of my 'fixed principles,' and go to law; have my money, goods, or a row! I goes to a lawyer, states my case, gave him a fee and told him to go to work.

"Cutaway, of course, received a polite invitation to step up to Van Nickem's office and learn something to his advantage; and he attended. A few days afterwards I dropped in.

"'Your man's been here,' says Van Nickem, smilingly.

"'Has, eh? Well, what's he done?' said I.

"'O, he acknowledges the debt, says he thinks you are rather hurrying up the biscuits, and thinks you might have sent the bill to him instead of giving it to me for collection,' says the lawyer.

"'Send it to him!' says I. 'Why I sent it fifty times; – sent my clerk until he got ashamed of going, and my boy went so often that his boots got into such a way of going to Cutaway's shop, that he had to change them with his brother, when he was going anywhere else!'

"'He appears to be a clever sort of a fellow,' said Van.

"'He is,' said I, 'the cleverest, most perfectly-at-home diddler in town.'

"'Well,' said Van Nickem, 'Cutaway acknowledges the debt, says he's rather straightened just now, but if you'll give him a little more time, he'll fork up every cent; so if I were you, I'd wait a little and see.'

"Well, I did wait. I didn't want to appear more eager for law than a lawyer, so I waited – three months. At the end of that time, early one Saturday morning, in came Cutaway. 'Aha!' says I, 'you are going to fork now, at last; it's well you come, for I'd been down on you on Monday, bright and early!'"

"You didn't say that to him, did you?" we observed.

"O, bless you, no. I said that to myself, but I met him with a smile, and with a 'how d'ye do, Cutaway?' and in my excitement at the prospect of receiving the $80, which I then wanted the worst kind, I shook hands with him, asked how his family was, and got as familiar and jocular with him as though he was the most cherished friend I had in the world! Well, now what do you suppose was the result of that interview with Cutaway?"

"Paid you a portion, or all of your bill against him, we suppose," was our response.

"Not by a long shot; with the coolness of a pirate he asked me to credit him for a handsome wine-tray, a dozen cut goblets and glasses, and a pair of decanters; he expected some friends from New York that evening, was going to give them a 'set out' at his house, and one of the guests, in consideration of former favors rendered by him, was pledged – being a man of wealth – to loan him enough funds to pay his debts, and take up a mortgage on his residence."

"You laughed at his impudence, and kicked him out into the street?" said we.

"I hope I may be hung if I didn't let him have the goods, and he took them home with him, swearing by all that was good and bad, he would settle with me early the following Monday morning. I saw no more of him for two weeks! I went to Van Nickem's, he laughed at me. The bill was now $100. I was raging. I told Van Nickem I'd have my money out of Cutaway, or I'd advertise him for a villain, swindler, and scoundrel."

"'He'd sue you for libel, and obtain damages,' said Van.

"'Then I'll horsewhip him, sir, within an inch of his life, in the open street!' said I, in a heat.

"'You might rue that,' said Van. 'He'd sue you for an assault, and give you trouble and expense.'

"'Then I suppose I can do nothing, eh? – the law being made for the benefit of such villains!'

"'We will arrest him,' said Van.

"'Well, then what?' said I.

"'We will haul him up to the bull ring, we will have the money, attach his property, goods or chattels, or clap him in jail, sir!' said Van Nickem, with an air of determination.

"I felt relieved; the hope of putting the rascal in jail, I confess, was dearer to me than the $100. I told Van to go it, give the rascal jessy, and Van did; but after three weeks' vexatious litigation, Cutaway went to jail, swore out, and, to my mortification, I learned that he had been through that sort of process so often that, like the old woman's skinned eels, he was used to it, and rather liked the sensation than otherwise! Well, saddled with the costs, foiled, gouged, swindled, and laughed at, you may fancy my feelinks, as Yellow Plush remarks."

"So you lost the $100 – got whipped, eh?" we remarked.

"No, sir," said our litigious friend. "I cornered him, I got old Cutaway in a tight place at last, and that's the pith of the transaction. Cutaway, having swindled and shaved about half the community with whom he had any transactions, – got his affairs all fixed smooth and quiet, and with his family was off for California. I got wind of it, – Van Nickem and I had a conference.