Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1874-12-24

resi-. Then such scramble as ther
is to get aboard, and to get ashore
and to take in freight and to dis
charge freight. all at one and tn
same time; and such yelling an,
cnrsing as the mates facilitate it al
with. Ten minutes later the steame
is under way again, with no flag Oh
the jack-staff and no black smoke is
suing from the chimneys. After ter
more minutes the town is dead again
and the town drunkard asleep by th,
skids once more.
My father was a Justice of thu
Peace, and 1 supposed he possessed
the power of life and death over al
men, and could hang anybody thai
offended him. This was distinction
enough for me as a general thing
hutthe desire to be steamboatmau
kept intruding, nevertheless. | first
wanted to be cabin boy, so that
could come out with white apron on
and shake IL table cloth over the side,
where all my old comrades could see
me; later thought | would rather be
the deck-hand who stood on the end
of the stage-plank with the coil of
rope in his hand, because he was par
ticularly conspicuous. But these
were only day-dreams-they were too
heavenly to be contemplated us real
possibilities. BY and by one of our
boys went away. He was not heard
of for d long time. At last he turned
up as apprentice engineer or striker"
on a steamboat. This thing shook
the bottom out of all my Sunday
school teachings. That boy had been
notoriously worldly, and l just the
reverse; yet he was exalted to this
emiaence, and l left in obscurity and
misery. There was nothing generous
about this fellow in his greatness.
He would always manage to have Il
rusty boltto scrub while his boat tar
ried at our town, and he would sit on
the inside guard and scrub it where
we could all see him and envy him
and loathe him. And whenever his
boat was laid up he would come home
and swell around the town in his
blackest and greasiest clothes, so that
could help remembering that
he was steamboatman; and he used
all sorts of steamboat technicalities
in his talk, as if he were so used to
them that he forgot common people
could not understand them. He
would speak of the larboard side of
a horse in an easy, natural way that
would make one wish he was dead.
And he was always talking about
'St. Looy" like an old citizen; he
would refer casually to occasions
when he was coming down Fourth,
street" or when he was passing by
the Planters House" or when there
was fire and he took turn on the
brakes of ''the old Big Missouri"
md then he would 90 on and lie
about how many towns the size of
ours were burned down there that
lay. Two or three of the boys had
ong been persons of consideration
lmong us because they had been to
st. Louis once and had vague gen
,ral knowledge of its wonders; but |
he day of their glory was over now.
They lapsed into humble silence, and
earned to disappear when the ruth
ess ''cub" engineer approached. This
ellOw had money, too, and hair-Oil.
Also an ignorant silver watch and a
howy brass watch chain. He wore
| leather belt and used no suSpenders.
f ever a youth was cordially ad-
nired and hated by his comrades,
his one was. No girl could with
tand his charms. He ''cut out" ev-
ry boy in the village. When his
,oat blew up at last it diffused a
ranquil contentment among us such
s we had not known for months.
But when he came home the next
week, alive, renowned, and appeared
n church all battered up and ban
laged, shining hero, stared at and
wondered over by everybody, it
eemed to us that the partiality of
Providence for an undeserving reptile
lad reached a point where it was
pen to criticism.
This creatures career could pro-
luce but one result, and it speedily
ollowed. Boy after boy managed to
.et on the river. The minister's son
'ecame an engineer. The doctors
nd the postrnaster's sons became
mud clerks" the wholesale liquor
callers son became barkeeper on ;
boat; four sons of the chief mer-
hant and two sons of the Comfy {
udge became pilots. Pilot was the
randest position of them all. The
ilot, even in those days Of trivial
,ages, had princely salary-frOm a .
undred and fifty to two hundred and
fly dollars a month, and no board to
ay. Two months of his wages {
-ould pay preachers salary for
ear. Now some of us were left dis ,
onsolate. We could not get on the
ver-at least our parents would not i
It us. .
So by and by ran away. said {
never would come home again till ,
was a pilot and could come in {
lory. But somehow l could not s
lanage it. l went meekly aboard a
wv of the boats that lay packed to-
ether like sardines at the long st. '
ouis wharf, and very humbly in t
uired for the pilots, but got only a
Did shoulder and short words from i
lates and clerks. l had to make the q
est of this sort of treatment for the i
me being, but L had comforting day q
reams of future when | should be i
great and honored pilot, with plen- G
of money, and could kill some of '
lese mates and clerks and pay for ,
lem. Il
Months afterward the hope within a
e struggled to a reluctant death, i
i'd l found myself without an am
tion. But | was ashamed to 90
ONE. l was in Cincinnati, and set +