I feel very much as if
I had just awakened out
of a long sleep. I attribute
it to the fact that I have
slept the greater part of
the time for the last two
days and nights. On Wednesday,
I sat up all night, in Virginia,
in order to be up early
enough to take the five
o'clock stage on Thursday
morning. I was on time.
It was a great success.
I had a cheerful trip down
to Carson, in company with
that incessant talker, Joseph
T. Goodman. I never saw
him flooded with such a
flow of spirits before.
He restrained his conversation,
though, until we had traveled
three or four miles, and
were just crossing the divide
between Silver City and
Spring Valley, when he thrust
his head out of the dark
stage, and allowed a pallid
light from the coach lamps
to illuminate his features
for a moment, after which
he returned to darkness
again, and sighed and said,
"Damn it!" with
some asperity.
I asked him who he meant
it for, and he said, "The
weather out there."
As we approached Carson,
at about half past seven
o'clock, he thrust his head
out again, and gazed earnestly
in the direction of that
city-after which he took
it in again, with his nose
very much frosted. He propped
the end of that organ upon
the end of his finger, and
looked pensively upon it-which
had the effect of making
him cross-eyed-and remarked,
"O, damn it!"
with great bitterness. I
asked him what was up this
time, and he said, "The
cold, damp fog-it is worse
than the weather."
This was his last. He never
spoke again in my hearing.
He went on over the mountains
with a lady fellow passenger
from here. That will stop
his chatter, you know, for
he seldom speaks in the
presence of ladies.
In the evening I felt a
mighty inclination to go
to a party somewhere. There
was to be one at Governor
J. Neely Johnson's, and
I went there and asked permission
to stand around a while.
This was granted in the
most hospitable manner,
and the vision of plain
quadrilles soothed my weary
soul. I felt particularly
comfortable, for if there
is one thing more grateful
to my feelings than another,
it is a new house-a large
house, with its ceilings
embellished with snowy mouldings;
its floors glowing with
warm-tinted carpets, with
cushioned chairs and sofas
to sit on, and a piano to
listen to; with fires so
arranged you can see them,
and know there is no humbug
about it; with walls garnished
with pictures, and above
all mirrors, wherein you
may gaze and always find
something to admire, you
know.
I have a great regard for
a good house, and a girlish
passion for mirrors. Horace
Smith, Esq., is also very
fond of mirrors. He came
and looked in the glass
for an hour with me. Finally
it cracked-the night was
pretty cold-and Horace Smith's
reflection was split right
down the centre. But where
his face had been the damage
was greatest-a hundred cracks
converged to his reflected
nose, like spokes from the
hub of a wagon wheel. It
was the strangest freak
the weather has done this
winter. And yet the parlor
seemed warm and comfortable,
too.
About nine o'clock the
Unreliable came and asked
Gov. Johnson to let him
stand on the porch. The
creature has got more impudence
than any person I ever saw
in my life. Well, he stood
and flattened his nose against
the parlor window, and looked
hungry and vicious-he always
looks that way-until Colonel
Musser arrived with some
ladies, when he actually
fell in their wake and came
swaggering in looking as
if he thought he had been
anxiously expected. He had
on my fine kid boots, my
plug hat, my white kid gloves
(with slices of his prodigious
hands grinning through the
bursted seams), and my heavy
gold repeater, which I had
been offered thousands and
thousands of dollars for
many and many a time. He
took those articles out
of my trunk, at Washoe City,
about a month ago, when
we went there to report
the proceedings of the convention.
The Unreliable intruded
himself upon me in his cordial
way, and said, "How
are you, Mark, old boy?
When d'you come down? It's
brilliant, ain't it? Appear
to enjoy themselves, don't
they? Lend a fellow two
bits, can't you?" He
always winds up his remarks
that way. He appears to
have an insatiable craving
for two bits.
The music struck up just then
and saved me. The next moment I
was far, far at sea in the plain
quadrille. We carried it through
with distinguished success; that
is, we got as far as "balance
around" and "half-a-man-left,"
when I smelled hot whisky punch,
or something of that nature. I tracked
the scent through several rooms,
and finally discovered a large bowl
from which it emanated. I found
the omnipresent Unreliable there,
also. He set down an empty goblet
and remarked that he was diligently
seeking the gentlemen's dressing
room. I would have shown him where
it was, but it occurred to him that
the supper table and the punch bowl
ought not to be left unprotected;
wherefore we stayed there and watched
them until the punch entirely evaporated.
A servant came in then, to replenish
the bowl, and we left the refreshments
in his charge. We probably did wrong,
but we were anxious to join the
hazy dance.
The dance was hazier than usual,
after that. Sixteen couples on
the floor at once, with a few
dozen spectators scattered around,
is calculated to have its effect
in a brilliantly lighted parlor,
I believe. Everything seemed to
buzz, at any rate. After all the
modern dances had been danced
several times, the people adjourned
to the supper-room. I found my
wardrobe out there, as usual,
with the Unreliable in it. His
old distemper was upon him: he
was desperately hungry. I never
saw a man eat as much as he did
in my life. I have various items
of his supper here in my note-book.
First, he ate a plate of sandwiches;
then he ate a handsomely iced
poundcake; then he gobbled a dish
of chicken salad; after which
he ate a roast pig; after that,
a quantity of blanc-mange; then
he threw in several dozen glasses
of punch to fortify his appetite,
and finished his monstrous repast
with a roast turkey. Dishes of
brandy-grapes, and jellies, and
such things, and pyramids of fruits
melted away before him as shadows
fly at the sun's approach. I am
of the opinion that none of his
ancestors were present when the
five thousand were miraculously
fed in the old Scriptural times.
I base my opinion on the twelve
bushels of scraps and the little
fishes that remained over after
that feast. If the Unreliable
himself had been there, the provisions
would just about have held out,
I think.
... At about two o'clock in the
morning the pleasant party broke
up and the crowd of guests distributed
themselves around town to their
respective homes; and after thinking
the fun all over again, I went
to bed at four o'clock. So having
been awake forty-eight hours,
I slept forty-eight, in order
to get even again.
John Van Buren Perry, recently
re-elected City Marshal of Virginia
City, was born a long time ago,
in County Kerry, Ireland, of poor
but honest parents, who were descendants,
beyond question, of a house of
high antiquity. The founder of
it was distinguished for his eloquence;
he was the property of one Baalam,
and received honorable mention
in the Bible.
John Van Buren Perry removed
to the United States in 1792-after
having achieved a high gastronomical
reputation by creating the first
famine in his native land-and
established himself at Kinderhook,
New Jersey, as a teacher of vocal
and instrumental music. His eldest
son, Martin Van Buren, was educated
there, and was afterwards elected
President of the United States;
his grandson, of the same name,
is now a prominent New York politician,
and is known in the East as "Prince
John;" he keeps up a constant
and affectionate correspondence
with his worthy grandfather, who
sells him feet in some of his
richest wildcat claims from time
to time.
While residing at Kinderhook,
Jack Perry was appointed Commodore
of the United States Navy, and
he forthwith proceeded to Lake
Erie and fought the mighty marine
conflict, which blazes upon the
pages of history as "Perry's
Victory." In consequence
of this exploit, he narrowly escaped
the Presidency.
Several years ago Commodore Perry
was appointed Commissioner Extraordinary
to the Imperial Court of Japan,
with unlimited power to treat.
It is hardly worth while to mention
that he never exercised that power;
he never treated anybody in that
country, although he patiently
submitted to a vast amount of
that sort of thing when the opportunity
was afforded him at the expense
of the Japanese officials. He
returned from his mission full
of honors and foreign whisky,
and was welcomed home again by
the plaudits of a grateful nation.
After the war was ended, Mr.
Perry removed to Providence, Rhode
Island, where he produced a complete
revolution in medical science
by inventing the celebrated "Pain
Killer" which bears his name.
He manufactured this liniment
by the ship-load, and spread it
far and wide over the suffering
world; not a bottle left his establishment
without his beneficent portrait
upon the label, whereby, in time,
his features became as well known
unto burned and mutilated children
as Jack the Giant Killer's.
When pain had ceased throughout
the universe Mr. Perry fell to
writing for a livelihood, and
for years and years he poured
out his soul in pleasing and effeminate
poetry.... His very first effort,
commencing:
"How doth the little busy
bee
Improve each shining hour,"
etc.-
gained him a splendid literary
reputation, and from that time
forward no Sunday-school library
was complete without a full edition
of his plaintive and sentimental
"Perry-Gorics." After
great research and profound study
of his subject, he produced that
wonderful gem which is known in
every land as "The Young
Mother's Apostrophe to Her Infant,"
beginning:
"Fie! fie! oo itty bitty
pooty sing!
To poke oo footsy-tootsys into
momma's eye!"
This inspired poem had a tremendous
run, and carried Perry's fame
into every nursery in the civilized
world. But he was not destined
to wear his laurels undisturbed:
England, with monstrous perfidy,
at once claimed the "Apostrophe"
for her favorite son, Martin Farquhar
Tupper, and sent up a howl of
vindictive abuse from her polluted
press against our beloved Perry.
With one accord, the American
people rose up in his defense,
and a devastating war was only
averted by a public denial of
the paternity of the poem by the
great Proverbial over his own
signature. This noble act of Mr.
Tupper gained him a high place
in the affection of this people,
and his sweet platitudes have
been read here with an ever augmented
spirit of tolerance since that
day.
The conduct of England toward
Mr. Perry told upon his constitution
to such an extent that at one time
it was feared the gentle bard would
fade and flicker out altogether;
wherefore, the solicitude of influential
officials was aroused in his behalf,
and through their generosity he
was provided with an asylum in Sing
Sing prison, a quiet retreat in
the state of New York. Here he wrote
his last great poem, beginning:
"Let dogs delight to bark and
bite,
For God hath made them so-
Your little hands were never made
To tear out each other's eyes with-"
and then proceeded to learn the
shoemaker's trade in his new home,
under the distinguished masters
employed by the commonwealth.
Ever since Mr. Perry arrived
at man's estate his prodigious
feet have been a subject of complaint
and annoyance to those communities
which have known the honor of
his presence. In 1835, during
a great leather famine, many people
were obliged to wear wooden shoes,
and Mr. Perry, for the sake of
economy, transferred his bootmaking
patronage from the tan-yard which
had before enjoyed his custom,
to an undertaker's establishment-that
is to say, he wore coffins. At
that time he was a member of Congress
from New Jersey, and occupied
a seat in front of the Speaker's
throne.
He had the uncouth habit of propping
his feet upon his desk during
prayer by the chaplain, and thus
completely hiding that officer
from every eye save that of Omnipotence
alone. So long as the Hon. Mr.
Perry wore orthodox leather boots
the clergyman submitted to this
infliction and prayed behind them
in singular solitude, under mild
protest; but when he arose one
morning to offer up his regular
petition, and beheld the cheerful
apparition of Jack Perry's coffins
confronting him, "The jolly
old bum went under the table like
a sick porpus" (as Mr. P.
feelingly remarks), "and
never shot off his mouth in that
shanty again."
Mr. Perry's first appearance
on the Pacific Coast was upon
the boards of the San Francisco
theaters in the character of "Old
Pete" in Dion Boucicault's
"Octoroon." So excellent
was his delineation of that celebrated
character that "Perry's Pete"
was for a long time regarded as
the climax of histrionic perfection.
Since John Van Buren Perry has
resided in Nevada Territory, he
has employed his talents in acting
as City Marshal of Virginia, and
in abusing me because I am an
orphan and a long way from home,
and can therefore be persecuted
with impunity. He was re-elected
day before yesterday, and his
first official act was an attempt
to get me drunk on champagne furnished
to the Board of Aldermen by other
successful candidates, so that
he might achieve the honor and
glory of getting me in the station-house
for once in his life.
Although he failed in his object,
he followed me down C street and
handcuffed me in front of Tom
Peasley's, but officers Birdsall
and Larkin and Brokaw rebelled
against this unwarranted assumption
of authority, and released me-whereupon
I was about to punish Jack Perry
severely, when he offered me six
bits to hand him down to posterity
through the medium of this Biography,
and I closed the contract. But
after all, I never expect to get
the money.
I arrived in this noisy and bustling
town of Carson at noon to-day,
per Layton's express. We made
pretty good time from Virginia,
and might have made much better,
but for Horace Smith, Esq., who
rode on the box seat and kept
the stage so much by the head
she wouldn't steer. I went to
church, of course,-I always go
to church when I-when I go to
church-as it were. I got there
just in time to hear the closing
hymn, and also to hear the Rev.
Mr. White give out a long-metre
doxology, which the choir tried
to sing to a short-metre tune.
But there wasn't music enough
to go around: consequently, the
effect was rather singular, than
otherwise. They sang the most
interesting parts of each line,
though, and charged the balance
to "profit and loss;"
this rendered the general intent
and meaning of the doxology considerably
mixed, as far as the congregation
were concerned, but inasmuch as
it was not addressed to them,
anyhow, I thought it made no particular
difference.
By an easy and pleasant transition,
I went from church to jail. It
was only just down stairs-for
they save men eternally in the
second story of the new court
house, and damn them for life
in the first. Sheriff Gasheric
has a handsome double office fronting
on the street, and its walls are
gorgeously decorated with iron
convict-jewelry. In the rear are
two rows of cells, built of bomb-proof
masonry and furnished with strong
iron doors and resistless locks
and bolts. There was but one prisoner-Swazey,
the murderer of Derrickson-and
he was writing; I do not know
what his subject was, but he appeared
to be handling it in a way which
gave him great satisfaction....
Advice to the Unreliable on Church-Going
In the first place, I must impress
upon you that when you are dressing
for church, as a general thing,
you mix your perfumes too much;
your fragrance is sometimes oppressive;
you saturate yourself with cologne
and bergamot, until you make a
sort of Hamlet's Ghost of yourself,
and no man can decide, with the
first whiff, whether you bring
with you air from Heaven or from
hell. Now, rectify this matter
as soon as possible; last Sunday
you smelled like a secretary to
a consolidated drug store and
barber shop. And you came and
sat in the same pew with me; now
don't do that again.
In the next place when you design
coming to church, don't lie in
bed until half past ten o'clock
and then come in looking all swelled
and torpid, like a doughnut. Do
reflect upon it, and show some
respect for your personal appearance
hereafter.
There is another matter, also,
which I wish to remonstrate with
you about. Generally, when the
contribution box of the missionary
department is passing around,
you begin to look anxious, and
fumble in your vest pockets, as
if you felt a mighty desire to
put all your worldly wealth into
it-yet when it reaches your pew,
you are sure to be absorbed in
your prayer-book, or gazing pensively
out of the window at far-off mountains,
or buried in meditation, with
your sinful head supported by
the back of the pew before you.
And after the box is gone again,
you usually start suddenly and
gaze after it with a yearning
look, mingled with an expression
of bitter disappointment (fumbling
your cash again meantime), as
if you felt you had missed the
one grand opportunity for which
you had been longing all your
life. Now, to do this when you
have money in your pockets is
mean. But I have seen you do a
meaner thing. I refer to your
conduct last Sunday, when the
contribution box arrived at our
pew-and the angry blood rises
to my cheek when I remember with
what gravity and sweet serenity
of countenance you put in fifty
cents and took out two dollars
and a half....
I did not return to Virginia yesterday,
on account of the wedding. The parties
were Hon. James H. Sturtevant, one
of the first Pi-Utes of Nevada,
and Miss Emma Curry, daughter of
the Hon. A. Curry, who also claims
that his is a Pi-Ute family of high
antiquity.... I had heard it reported
that a marriage was threatened,
so felt it my duty to go down there
and find out the facts of the case.
They said I might stay, as it was
me....
I promised not to say anything
about the wedding, and I regard
that promise as sacred-my word
is as good as my bond.... Father
Bennett advanced and touched off
the high contracting parties with
the hymeneal torch (married them,
you know), and at the word of
command from Curry, the fiddle
bows were set in motion, and the
plain quadrilles turned loose.
Thereupon, some of the most responsible
dancing ensued that I ever saw
in my life. The dance that Tam
O'Shanter witnessed was slow in
comparison to it.
They kept it up for six hours,
and then carried out the exhausted
musicians on a shutter, and went
down to supper. I know they had
a fine supper, and plenty of it,
but I do not know much else. They
drank so much shampin around me
that I got confused, and lost
the hang of things, as it were....
It was mighty pleasant, jolly
and sociable, and I wish to thunder
I was married myself. I took a
large slice of bridal cake home
with me to dream on, and dreamt
that I was still a single man,
and likely to remain so, if I
live and nothing happens-which
has given me a greater confidence
in dreams than I ever felt before.
I cordially wish my newly-married
couple all kinds of happiness
and prosperity, though.
Ye Sentimental Law Student
Eds. Enterprise-I found the following
letter, or Valentine, or whatever
it is, lying on the summit, where
it had been dropped unintentionally,
I think. It was written on a sheet
of legal cap, and each line was
duly commenced within the red
mark which traversed the sheet
from top to bottom. Solon appeared
to have had some trouble getting
his effusion started to suit him.
He had begun it, "Know all
men by these presents," and
scratched it out again; he had
substituted, "Now at this
day comes the plaintiff, by his
attorney," and scratched
that out also; he had tried other
sentences of like character, and
gone on obliterating them, until,
through much sorrow and tribulation,
he achieved the dedication which
stands at the head of his letter,
and to his entire satisfaction,
I do cheerfully hope.
But what a villain a man must
be to blend together the beautiful
language of love and the infernal
phraseology of the law in one
and the same sentence! I know
but one of God's creatures who
would be guilty of such depravity
as this: I refer to the Unreliable.
I believe the Unreliable to be
the very lawyer's-cub who sat
upon the solitary peak, all soaked
in beer and sentiment, and concocted
the insipid literary hash I am
talking about. The handwriting
closely resembles his semi-Chinese
tarantula tracks.
Sugar Loaf Peak, February 14,
1863.
To the loveliness to whom these
presents shall come, greeting:-This
is a lovely day, my own Mary;
its unencumbered sunshine reminds
me of your happy face, and in
the imagination the same doth
now appear before me. Such sights
and scenes as this ever remind
me, the party of the second part,
of you, my Mary, the peerless
party of the first part. The view
from the lonely and segregated
mountain peak, of this portion
of what is called and known as
Creation, with all and singular
the hereditaments and appurtenances
thereunto appertaining and belonging,
is inexpressively grand and inspiring;
and I gaze, and gaze, while my
soul is filled with holy delight,
and my heart expands to receive
thy spirit-presence, as aforesaid.
I did not return to Virginia yesterday,
on account of the wedding. The parties
were Hon. James H. Sturtevant, one
of the first Pi-Utes of Nevada,
and Miss Emma Curry, daughter of
the Hon. A. Curry, who also claims
that his is a Pi-Ute family of high
antiquity.... I had heard it reported
that a marriage was threatened,
so felt it my duty to go down there
and find out the facts of the case.
They said I might stay, as it was
me....
I promised not to say anything
about the wedding, and I regard
that promise as sacred-my word
is as good as my bond.... Father
Bennett advanced and touched off
the high contracting parties with
the hymeneal torch (married them,
you know), and at the word of
command from Curry, the fiddle
bows were set in motion, and the
plain quadrilles turned loose.
Thereupon, some of the most responsible
dancing ensued that I ever saw
in my life. The dance that Tam
O'Shanter witnessed was slow in
comparison to it.
They kept it up for six hours,
and then carried out the exhausted
musicians on a shutter, and went
down to supper. I know they had
a fine supper, and plenty of it,
but I do not know much else. They
drank so much shampin around me
that I got confused, and lost
the hang of things, as it were....
It was mighty pleasant, jolly
and sociable, and I wish to thunder
I was married myself. I took a
large slice of bridal cake home
with me to dream on, and dreamt
that I was still a single man,
and likely to remain so, if I
live and nothing happens-which
has given me a greater confidence
in dreams than I ever felt before.
I cordially wish my newly-married
couple all kinds of happiness
and prosperity, though.
Ye Sentimental Law Student
Eds. Enterprise-I found the following
letter, or Valentine, or whatever
it is, lying on the summit, where
it had been dropped unintentionally,
I think. It was written on a sheet
of legal cap, and each line was
duly commenced within the red
mark which traversed the sheet
from top to bottom. Solon appeared
to have had some trouble getting
his effusion started to suit him.
He had begun it, "Know all
men by these presents," and
scratched it out again; he had
substituted, "Now at this
day comes the plaintiff, by his
attorney," and scratched
that out also; he had tried other
sentences of like character, and
gone on obliterating them, until,
through much sorrow and tribulation,
he achieved the dedication which
stands at the head of his letter,
and to his entire satisfaction,
I do cheerfully hope.
But what a villain a man must
be to blend together the beautiful
language of love and the infernal
phraseology of the law in one
and the same sentence! I know
but one of God's creatures who
would be guilty of such depravity
as this: I refer to the Unreliable.
I believe the Unreliable to be
the very lawyer's-cub who sat
upon the solitary peak, all soaked
in beer and sentiment, and concocted
the insipid literary hash I am
talking about. The handwriting
closely resembles his semi-Chinese
tarantula tracks.
Sugar Loaf Peak, February 14,
1863.
To the loveliness to whom these
presents shall come, greeting:-This
is a lovely day, my own Mary;
its unencumbered sunshine reminds
me of your happy face, and in
the imagination the same doth
now appear before me. Such sights
and scenes as this ever remind
me, the party of the second part,
of you, my Mary, the peerless
party of the first part. The view
from the lonely and segregated
mountain peak, of this portion
of what is called and known as
Creation, with all and singular
the hereditaments and appurtenances
thereunto appertaining and belonging,
is inexpressively grand and inspiring;
and I gaze, and gaze, while my
soul is filled with holy delight,
and my heart expands to receive
thy spirit-presence, as aforesaid.
Above me is the glory of the
sun; around him float the messenger
clouds, ready alike to bless the
earth with gentle rain, or visit
it with lightning, and thunder,
and destruction; far below the said
sun and the messenger clouds aforesaid,
lying prone upon the earth in the
verge of the distant horizon, like
the burnished shield of a giant,
mine eyes behold a lake, which is
described and set forth in maps
as the Sink of Carson; nearer, in
the great plain, I see the Desert,
spread abroad like the mantle of
a Colossus, glowing by turns, with
the warm light of the sun, hereinbefore
mentioned, or darkly shaded by the
messenger clouds aforesaid; flowing
at right angles with said Desert,
and adjacent thereto, I see the
silver and sinuous thread of the
river, commonly called Carson, which
winds its tortuous course through
the softly tinted valley, and disappears
amid the gorges of the bleak and
snowy mountains-a simile of man!-leaving
the pleasant valley of Peace and
Virtue to wander among the dark
defiles of Sin, beyond the jurisdiction
of the kindly beaming sun aforesaid!
And about said sun, and the said
clouds, and around the said mountains,
and over the plain and the river
aforesaid, there floats a purple
glory-a yellow mist-as airy and
beautiful as the bridal veil of
a princess, about to be wedded
according to the rites and ceremonies
pertaining to, and established
by, the laws or edicts of the
kingdom or principality wherein
she doth reside, and whereof she
hath been and doth continue to
be, a lawful sovereign or subject.
Ah! my Mary, it is sublime! it
is lovely! I have declared and
made known, and by these presents
do declare and make known unto
you, that the view from Sugar
Loaf Peak, as hereinbefore described
and set forth, is the loveliest
picture with which the hand of
the Creator has adorned the earth,
according to the best of my knowledge
and belief, so help me God.
Given under my hand, and in the
spirit-presence of the bright
being whose love has restored
the light of hope to a soul once
groping in the darkness of despair,
on the day and year first above
written.
(Signed)
Solon Lycurgus.
Law Student, and Notary Public
in and for the said County of
Storey, and Territory of Nevada.
To Miss Mary Links, Virginia
(and may the laws have her in
their holy keeping).
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