The rough diamond

Scene 7 — War Between the States 77

History, Science, Philosophy and Art, Blended in Original Lectures.

Lecture i — On Liberty and Law 93

Lecture 2 — On Time and Motion 106

Lecture 3 — On Mind and Organism 121

Lecture 4 — On Man and Animals 138

Lecture 5 — On Spirit and Soul 156 contents.

Genius and Poetry.

Genius 175

My Native Land — address to Young America . . .176

Rise and Fall of Old Nick— to the Devil 180

Confederate Flag — to the Ladies of Plattsburg . .183

Family and Fate — to a Female Relative 184

Twilight — Intermediate Body and Soul » 187

The Devil and Tom Walker — a Dialogue 188

The Beautiful Snow — an Emblem of Virtue .... 192 The Workmen's Saturday Night — a Tribute to Honest Labor 196

Inside View of the United States Mail — Revealed by

the Angel of Observation 198

Hard Times 202

The Power of Truth 204

The Wheels of Time 204

The Days of My Childhood 205

Ideas and Idols — Essay on Jacob and Laban . . . 206

The Dying Drunkard to His Soul . 208

The Moneyless Man vs. Moneyless Woman . . . .211 The Poet vs. Tom Watson's Deer 213

Pen Pictui^es.

Of Eventful Scenes and Struggles of IJfe.

Scene First— Introduction

It is fashionable to preface what we have to say.

Some men build a large portico in front of the edifice ...ey erect.

This may attract the eye of a stranger, but no real com^ foit can be realized until we enter the house.

And then no display of fine furniture or studied of manners can equal a whole-soul, hearty welcome.

Besides, no long proclamation of the entertainment Ca.a ©qual in interest the entertainment itself.

Without further preliminary ceremony, I will introduce you to the sad experience of a living man : —

Born in the house of respectable parents, on the southern bank of the beautiful Ohio, in the dawn of the nineteenth century, and educated in a log school house, the first scenes of my manhood were upon the waters of the great Mississippi river and its tributaries. Leaving home at an early age, no hopeful boy was ever turned loose in the wide world more ignorant of the traps and pit-falls set to catch and degrade the youth of this broad and beautiful land.

At Vicksburg, Natchez, Under-the-HiU, and the Cres-

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cent City, with armies of dissipation— like the Roman Caesar — I came, I saw, I conquered.

I had been taught from my earliest infancy that a thief was a scape-goat— on the left-hand side of the left gate, where all the goats are to be crowded on the last day. A7id that saved me.

For I soon discovered that the gambler dLTid. the M/^/ acted upon the same theory.

Having no desire to live through the scenes of my life again— I am not writing my own history, but the history of some of the events in the hves of others that I have witnessed or learned by tradition— in the execution of the task I shall enter the palace like the log cabin— without stopping to ring the bell.

Although I have been a diligent reader for more than forty years, my greatest knowledge of human character has been drawn from observation. For prudential reasons some fancy names are used in this story, but the characters drawn are true to the letter* Local, it is true, but may they not represent character throughout this broad continent? In 1492 Columbus discovered America— a Rough Diamond— a New World.

Our fathers passed through the struggle of life in the rough, and the log cabin ought to be as dear to the American hea t as the modern palace. Emancipated from ideas of locality, I hope, and honestly trust that the sentiments in the Rough Diamond will be treasured in the hearts of the millions of my countrymen, and that no American character will ever become so brilliant that it cannot allude with a native pride to the Rough Diamond— our country a hundred years ago.

And with a thousand other ideas brought to the mind, and blended with the Rough Diamond, may the good Angel of observation rest with the readw as you peruse these pages.

Near the seat of the present town of Helena, Arkansas, old Billy Horner and Henry Mooney made a race on two little ponies, called respectively Silver Heels and the Sp tted Buck.

The distance was one quarter of a mile, and the stake one hundred dollars.

Wishing to obtain the signature of the Governor of Arkansas to a land grant and title to a certain tract of land on the Mississippi river, I determined to attend the races.

The ponies were to start at twelve o'clock, on the 15th day of May. I forget the year, but it was soon after the inauguration of steam navigation on the Mississippi.

On the 14th day of May I left Bush Bayou, twenty miles below Helena and fifteen miles back from the river, where I was on a tour of surveying, in company of two negro boys, from fifteen to twenty years of age, to assist me. Our route was down the Bayou, which was evidently an old bed of the great river. How long since the muddy and turbulent* waters had left this location and sought the present channel no human calculation could tell. Trees had grown up as large as any in other localities in the Mississippi bottoms, in some places extending entirely across the Bayou ; in other places there was an open space one hundred yards wide and sometimes a mile long, but there were many places where the timber extended from shore to shore for miles. In such places our only guide was a blaze upon the trees, made by the first navigators of the Bayou. We started in a canoe, eight feet long and eighteen inches wide, with a large trunk, a number of tools, and three men. When all were on board the top of our boat was only three-quarters of an inch above the water. In this critical condition the negroes had to go as freight, for they are proverbially too awkward to manage a nice thing. Near the close of our journey we were attacked by an alligator. He was sixteen feet long, and larger than our boat. His attack frightened the negroes so badly that it was impossible to keep them still, and we came very near bemg upset. I fired several times at the alligator, with a double-barreled shot-gun, charged with twenty-four buckshot, but the shot only glanced from his scales and fell into the water. At last, frightened by the loud cries of the negroes, the animal left us.

When we arrived on the bank of the Mississippi the Western hemisphere had blindfolded the eye of day ; the river was bank full, the turbulent waters bearing a large quantity of drift wood down the stream. Upon the Arkansas shore there was no sign of civilization. On the Mississiopi shore, two miles below, there was a cabin, and the faint light of the inmates was the only sign of civilization that met our view. To cross the great river, in the dark, with its turbulent waters and drift wood, with a barque so heavily laden, was worse than the encounter with the alligator. I was young, brave and enthusiastic. Directing the negroes to place themselves in the bottom of the boat, and not to stir hand or foot at the risk of being knocked overboard with the paddle, I headed our little barque for the light in the cabin, which gave us a course quartering down stream. To have held her square across the stream, she would have undoubtedly filled with water. The night was dark, but the air was still as the inaudible breath of time.

Knowing that the perils of the sea, without wind, are abated one hundred fold, I made the ven^.are, and landed safely at the Mississippi cabin.

Eighteen miles below Helena, and on the opposite side of the river, I passed the night, with a determination to be on the race ground the next day at twelve o'clock. I was up early in the morning. As I passed out the cot of my friend, in front of me the great father of waters rolled on in his majesty to the bosom of the ocean.

On the background the foliage of the forest cast a green shade upon the gray light of the morning. Every animal on the premises had sought refuge in the cane brakes from the ravages of the green-head fly and the gallinipper. Like Richard the Third — I was ready to cry, a horse — a horse — my kingdom for a horse.

Through the dim distance, half concealed by the cane, I discovered a mule, and was fortunate enough to bridle him. He was an old mule; some said the -first Chickasaw. Frenchman that ever settled in St. Louis rode him from the north of Mexico to the Mississippi river.

Others said that he was in the army of the First Napoleon, and had been imported across the water. Be this as it may, he was a good saddle mule, for I arrived upon the race ground fifteen minutes ahead of time.

I obtained the desired signature and saw the Spotted Buck win the race. But many said it was a jockey race, and that Silver Heels was the fleetest horse. The races continued through the evening. I had no desire to bet, but if I had, I should have bet on the fast man and not the fast horse

After this event, and nearly half a century ago, I was standing on the street in Vicksburg. It was early in the morning, and the city unusually quiet. My attention was attracted in the direction of the jail by women running indoors and men rushing along the street ; I saw sticks, stones, and bricks flying, and men running as in pursuit of some wild animal, and as I caught a glimpse of the figure of the retreating man, the sharp sound of a rifle gun rang out upon the morning air.

Following on to a spot on the street where a large crowd of men had collected, I saw the face of a dead man as the body was being turned over by one of the bystanders. The lineaments of the cold, marble face, spoke in a language not to be mistaken — that the dead was, in life^ a brave man.

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I soon learned that the name of the dead man was " Alonzo Phelps," and that he had been tried for the crime of murder and sentenced by the court to be hanged by the neck until he was dead, and this was the day for his execution ; that he had broken, or found an opportunity to leave the jail, and nothing would stop him but the rifle-gun in the hands of an officer of the law.

I also learned that he had written a confession of his crimes, the manuscript of which was then in the jail, for he had knocked the keeper down with a stone ink-stand, with which he had been furnished to write his confession.

By the politeness of the jailor I was permitted to examine the confession, which closed with these remarkable words, ' ' To-morrow is the day appointed for my execution, but Twill not hang. "

The confession was afterward published. I read it many times, but have forgotten most of it. I remember he said the first man he ever murdered was in Europe, and that he was compelled, for safety, to flee the country and come to America. There was nothing so unusual in this, but the manner in which he disposed of his victim was singular, and more particularly the revelation he gave of his thoughts at the time.

He said he carried the body to a graveyard, and, with a spade that had been left there,- he shoveled all of the dirt out of a newly-made grave until he came to the coffin. He then laid the body of the murdered man on the coffin and refilled the grave. -I then," says he, -left the graveyard, and spent the balance of the night in reflections. How strange, I thought, it would be for two spirits, on the last day, to find themselves in the same grave." ''I thought," says he, ''if the relatives of the rightful owner of the grave should, in after years, conclude to move the bones of their kinsman, when they dug them up there would be two skulls, four arms, and so on, and how it would puzzle them to get the bones of their kinsman."

After reading this confession I regretted very much that I had never seen Alonzo Phelps while living, for there was blended in his composition many strange elements. But that part of his confession that gives interest to our story was the papers taken from the man he murdered in Europe, of which we have spoken. He concealed the papers, in a certain place, on the night he buried the man, and, as he was compelled to flee the country, said papers were, a long time afterward, discovered by reading his confession made in America. With the settlement of the West, the navigation of the western waters was one of the principal industries. Keel and flat bottom boats were the first used. Keel boats were propelled against the stream w'th long poles, placed with one end on the bottom of the stream and a man's shoulder at the other end, pushing the boat from under him, and consequently against the stream. Flat bottom boats only drifted with the current, sometimes bearing large cargoes.

Louisville, Kentucky, was one of the principal points between Pittsburg and New Orleans. Here the placid waters of the beautiful river rushed madly over some ledges of rocks, called the falls of Ohio. Many reshipments in an early day were performed at this point, and if the boat was taken over the falls her pilot for the trip to New Orleans was not considered competent to navigate the falls. Resident pilots, in Louisville, were always employed to perform this task.

And few of the early boatmen were ever long upon the river without having acquaintances in Louisville.

Beargrass creek emptied its lazy waters into the Ohio at a point called, at the time of which we write, the suburbs of Louisville.

In a long row of cottages on the margin of Beargrass creek, that has long since given place to magnificent buildings, was the home of a friend with whom I was stopping.

Rising early one morning, I found the neighborhood in great excitement ; a woman was missing. It was Daymon's wife. She had no relatives known to the people of Louisville. She was young, intelligent, and as pure from any stain of character as the beautiful snowo

Daymen was also young. He was a laborer, or boat hand, frequently assisting in conducting boats across the falls. But he was dissipated^ and in fits of intoxication frequently abused his wife.

All who knew Daymon's wife were ready to take the dark fiend by the throat who had consigned her beautiful form to the dark waters of Beargrass creek.

Every one was busy to find some sign or memento of the missing woman.

A large crowd had gathered around a shop, where a large woden boot hung out for a sign — a shoe shop. When I arrived on the spot a workman was examining' a shoe, and testified that it was one of a pair he had previously made fot Daymon's wife. The shoe had been picked up, early that morning, on the margin of Beargrass creek. Suspicion pointed her finger at Daymon, and he was arrested and charged with drowning his wife in Beargrass creek.

Daymon was not a bad-looking man, and, as the evidence was all circumstantial, I felt an uncommon interest in the trial, and made arrangements to attend the court, which was to sit in two weeks.

On the morning of the trial the court room was crowded. The counsel for the state had everything ready, and the prisoner brought to the bar. The indictment was then read, charging the prisoner with murder in the first degree. And to the question, are you guilty or not guilty ? Daymon answered not gui!t)\ and resumed his seat. Silence now prevailed for a few minutes, when the judge inquired, *'is the

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State ready ?" The attorney answered, ' ' yes. " The judge inquired, "has the prisoner any one to defend him ?" Daymon shook' his head.

"It is then the duty of the court to appoint your defense," said the judge, naming the attorneys, and the trial proceeded. The witnesses for the state being sworn, testified to the shoe as already described. In the mean time Beargrass creek had been dragged, ?nd the body of a woman foiand. The fish had eaten the face beyond recognition, but a chintz calico dress was sworn to by two sewing women as identical to one they had previously made for Daymon' s wife.

The state's attorney pictured all of this circumstantial evidence to the jury in an eloquence seldom equaled.

But, who ever heard a lawyer plead the cause of a moneyless man ? The attorneys appointed to defend Daymon preserved only their respectability in the profession.

And the jury returned their verdict gui'Uy. Nothing now remained but to pronounce the sentence, and then the execution.

The judge was a crippled man, and slowly assumed an erect position. Then casting his eyes around the court room, they rested upon the prisoner, and he paused a moment. That moment was silent, profound, awful ! for every ear was open to catch the first sound of that sentence. The silence was broken by a wild scream at the door. The anxious crowd opened a passage, and a woman entered the court room, her hair floating upon her shoulders, and her voice wild and mellow as the horn of resurrection. That woman was Daymen's wife.

Scene Second. —the Hero Of Shirt-tail Bend

Two boys in one house grew up side by side, By the mother loved, and the father's pride With raven locks and rosy cheeks they stood, As living types of the family blood.

Don, from the mother did his mettle take, Dan, the Prodigal — born to be a rake.

In the month of May, 1816, the Enterprise landed at Louisville, having made the trip from New Orleans in twenty-five days. She was the first steamboat that ever ascended the Mississippi river. The event was celebrated with a public dinner, given by the citizens of Louisville to Captain Henry M. Shreve, her commander.

A new era was inaugurated on the western waters, yet the clouds of monopoly had to be blown away, and the free navigation of the Mississippi heralded across the land.

The startling events of the times are necessarily connected with our story.

For the truth of history was never surpassed by fiction, only in the imagination of weak minds.

Sixty miles above Louisville, on the southern bank of the Ohio, stood a round-log cabin, surrounded by heavy timber. In the background a towering clift reared its greencovered brow to overlook the valley — the woodland scenery seemed to say: "here is the home of the wolf and the wild cat," and it gave the place a lonesome look.

A passing neighbor had informed the inmates of the cabin that a saw-mill was coming up the river. Two barefooted boys stood in the front yard, and looked with hopeful eyes upon the wonder of the passing steamer. The gentle breeze that waved their infant locks, whispered the coming storms of the future.

It was the Washington, built by Captain Shreve, and was subsequendy seized for navigating the western waters. The case was carried to the Supreme Court of the United States, where the exclusive pretensions of the monopolist to navigate the western waters by steam were denied.

Some of the old heroes who battled for the free navigation of the western waters, left a request to be buried on the bank of the beautiful Ohio, where the merry song of the boatman would break the stillness of their resting place, and the music of the steam engine soothe their departed spirits. Well have their desires been fulfilled.

Some long and tedious summers had passed away — notwithstanding a congressman had declared in Washington City, '' that the Ohio river was frozen over six months in the year, and the balance of the season would not float a tad-pole."

The music of the steam engine or the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, had given rise to unforseen industries. Don and Dan Carlo, standing in the half-way house between boyhood and manhood, without inheriting a red cent in the wide world with which to commencf the battle of life, grown up in poverty, surrounded by family pride, with willing hearts and strong arms, were ready to undertake any enterprise that glimmering fortune might poin-t out.

A relative on the mother's side held the title papers,signed by the Governor of Arkansas, to a tract of land on the Mississippi river, who gave the privilege to Don and Dan Carlo, to establish a wood yard on said premises.

For steam navigation was not only a fixed fact, but the boats were much improved — many of them taking on board twenty-four cords of wood at one landing

'* Competition is the life of trade," and several enterprising woodmen were established in this locality ; and when a passing steamboat would ring for wood after night, all anxious to show the first light, the woodmen, torch in hand, would run out of their cabins in their shirt-tails. From this circumstance, that locality was known by the boatmen from Pittsburgh to New Orleans, by the homely appellation of the Shirt- Tail Bend.

That, like many other localities on the Mississippi, was first settled by wood-choppers. The infantile state of society in those neighborhoods can be better imagined than described. The nearest seat of justice was forty miles, and the highest standard of jurisprudence was a third-rate county court lawyer. Li.tle Rock was, perhaps, the only point in the State that could boast of being the residence of a printers' devil, or the author of a dime novel.

The wood-cutters were the representative men of the neighborhood. The Gospel of peace and good will to men was, perhaps, slightly preserved in the memories of some who had been raised in a more advanced state of civilization , The passing days were numbered by making a mark on the day-board every morning, and a long mark every seventh day, for the Sabbath.

Quarrels concerning property seldom, if ever, occurred. The criminal code or personal difficulties were generally settled according to the law of the early boatmen, which was : if two men had a personal quarrel, they were required to choose seconds, go ashore and fight it out. The seconds were chosen to see that no weapons were used and no foul holds were taken. It was a trial of physical strength, and when the vanquished party cried ^' enough!'^ the difficulty was considered settled.

I am speaking of times prior to the inauguration of the Arkansas Bowie knife and pistol Many of the early wood-cutters on the Mississippi were men of sterling integrity. Don Carlo never wrote a line for the future antiquarian to ponder over, or dreamed that he was transmitting anything to posterity; yet, by his bold and noble conduct, he stamped the impress of his character upon the memories of all who witnessed the blossom of society in the woods on the Mississippi river.

Brindle Bill was a wood-chopper, but he never worked much at his profession. He was one of theclas^of wood-cutters that were generally termed the floating part of the population. This class were employed by the proprietors of the wood yards, to cut wood by the cord — for one hundred cords they received fifty dollars.

Brindle Bill was five feet and eight inches high, with square shoulders and as strong as a buffalo — and although he was classed with the floating population, he had been in that locality for more than a year and was a shining light at headquarters.

This was the resort of all who claimed to be fond of fun. It was an old cabin that was built by some early backwoodsmen, who had deserted it and moved on. It was some distance from the river, and left unoccupied by the woodmen. Situated in the edge of a small cane-brake, a large quantity of cane had been cut to clear the way, and piled against the west end of the cabin.

Here the jug was kept. These men had no brilliantly lighted saloon for a resort, but human nature is the same under all circumstances. In this locality, like all others, there were two parties, or two spirits — one was to improve the other to degrade society. As we have said, Brindle Bill was the leading spirit of his party. He was always ready to fill the jug and play a social game at cards — he only bet, as he said, to keep up a little interest in the game. Brindle Bill always had a pocket full of money. He loved to tell long stories, and frequently related previous combats, in which he came off the victor. As the test of manhood was physical strength, Brindle Bill was the bully of the settlement— no one desired a personal quarrel with him.

Some said that S. S. Simon, the proprietor of a wood yard, sided with Brindle Bill— whether this was true or not — Simon's wife, was one of the leading spirits of the other party. She was a woman of few words, but the force of her character was felt by the whole neighborhood.

Cord, or steam wood, was the principal source of revenue, and large quantities were annually sold, thousands of dollars come into Shirt-tail Bend, but there was no improvement, they had no school house, and a church, and post-office were not thought of.

Don and Dan Carlo, proprietors of one of the principal wood yards, dear brothers^ were animated by different spirits. Dan was a fast friend of Brindle Bill. Don was a silent spirit of the other party. They were equal partners in the wood b siness, and when a sale was made, Dan received half of he money, but it so happened that all expenses were pa'd by Don. This had been the situation for a long time. In vain Don appealed to Dan — tried to arouse family pride. The two kept bachelors hall, and many times, through the long vigils of the night, Don laid before Dan, their situation, scoffed at by a la'-ge family relationship, because they were poor, and then representing that they must fail in their business, because half the money received would not pay expenses, to all of this, Dan would promise to reform — and promise, and promise, and pf'OJ?iise, but would always fail.

In the dusk of the evening, after a large sale of wood had been made, at the Carlo wood yard, S. S. Siraon, Dan Carlo, Sundown Hill and Brindle Bill were seen making their way slowly to headquarters. Simon's wife remarked to a person near her, " Dan's money will ^p to-night y

Don Carlo was seen sitting alone in his cabin, his hand upon his forehead, his eyes gazing intently upon the floor. TI.e burning coal upon the hearthstone glimmered in the glory of its element; the voice of the wild ducks upon the river shore, told the deep, dead ho'-^rof the night, and aroused Don Carlo from his reverie — the sun had crossed the meridian on the other side of the globe, and no sound of the foot-fall of his absent brother disturbed the stillness of the hour.

Don Carlo picked up a pamphlet that lay upon the table and turned over the leaves, it was the confession of Alonzo Phelps.

He said mentally, Phelps was a very bad, but a very brave man. He defied the city of Vicksburg, defied the law, and the State of Mississippi.

He thought of the generations before him, and family pride filled his veins with warm blood. Don Carlo was ready to face Brindle Bill, or the Brindle Devil, in defence of his rights, and he started for headquarters.

Cool, calculating woman — Simon's wife, the patient watcher for her absent husband, saw Don Carlo wending his way through the stillness of the night, to headquarters. Her keen, woman's wit, told her there was trouble ahead.

Silently, and unseen, with fire brand in hand, (this was before friction matches were thought of,) she left the Simon cabin.

When Don Carlo arrived at headquarters, the door and window was fastened on the inside, a faint light from a tallow candle, that glimmered through the cracks of the cabiHj, whispered the deep laid scheme of the inmates— S. S. Simon, Sundown Hill and Brindle Bill were banded together to swindle Dan Carlo. Don Carlo went there to enter that cabin. Quick as thought he clambered up the corner of the jutting logs, and passed down the chimney. In front of him, around a square table, sat four men. On the center of the table a large pile of shining silver dollars, enlivened the light of the tallow candle.

The players looked up in amazement ; had an angel from heaven dropped among them, they would not have been more astonished. While the men sat, between doubt and fear, Don Carlo raked the money from the table, and put it in his pocket.