Gallipolis journal. [volume] (Gallipolis, Ohio) 1837-1919, 1874-12-24
OLD TIMES ON THE MISSlS-
SIPPI.

Mark IVAN III January Atlantlc.I
When / was a boy there was but
one permanent ambition among my
comrades in our village on the west
bank of the Mississippi River. That
was, to be a steamboatman. Wehad
transient ambitions of other sorts,
but they were only transient. When
circus came and went, it left us all
burning to become clowns; the first
negro minstrel show that came to our
section left us all suffering to try that
kind of life; now and then we had a
hope that if we lived and we're good
God would permit us to be pirates.
These ambitions faded ont, each in
its turn; but the ambition to be a
steamboatman always remained.
Once day cheap, gaudy packet
arrived upward from St. Louis, and
another downward from Keokuk. Be
fore these events had transpired the
day was glorious with expectancy;
after they had transpired the day was
dead and empty thing. Not only
the boys, but the whole village, felt
this. After all these years l can
picture that old time to myself now
Just as it was then: the white town
browsing in the sunshine of sum-
mer's morning; the streets empty, or
pretty nearly so; one or two clerks
sitting in front of the Water Street
stores, with their splint bottomed
chairs tilted back against the wall,
chins on breasts, hats slOuched over
their faces, asleep = with shing!e-
shavings enough around to show
what broke them down; a SOW and Il
litter of pigs loafing along the side
walk, doing a good business in wa
ter melon rinds and seeds; two or
three lonely little freight piles scat
tered about the ''levee;;" pile of
"skids' on the slope of the stone
paved wharf, and the fragrant town
drunkard asleep in the shadow of
them; two or three wood flats at the
head of the wharf, but nobody to lis
ten to the peaceful tapping of the
wavelets against them; the great Mis-
sissippi. the majestic, the magnificent
Mississippi, rolling its mile-wide tide
along, shining in the sun; the dense
forest away on the other side; the
'point" above the town and the
point" below, bounding the river
glimpse, and turning it into a sort of
sea, and withal very still and bril-
liant and lonely one. Presently a
film of dark smoke appears above
one of those remote points" in
stantly negro drayman, famous for
his quick eye and prodigious voice,
lifts up the cry, "S-t-e-a mboat a.
comin'r' and the scene changesl The
town drunkard stirs, the clerks wake
up, furious clatter of drays follows,
every house and store pours out
human contribution, and all in a
twinkling the dead town is alive and
Drays, carts, men, boys, all
go hurrying from many quarters to a
common center, the wharf Assem-
bled there, the people fasten their
eyes upon the coming boat as upon
a wonder they are seeing for the first
time. And the boat is rather hand
some sight, too. She is long and
sharp and trim and pretty; she has
two tall, fancy-topped chimneys, with
a gilded device of some kind swung
between them; fanciful pilot house,
all glass and gingerbread perched
on top of the "texas" deck behind
them; the paddle boxes are gorgeous
with a picture or with gilded rays
above the boats name; the boiler
deck, the hurricane deck and the
texas deck are fenced and ornament
ed with clean white railings; there is
a flag gallantly flying from the jack
staff; the furnace doors are open and
the fires glaring bravely; the upper
decks are black with passengers; the
captain stands by the big bell, calm,
the envy of all; great vol
umes of the blackest smoke are roll
ing and tumbling out of the Chin
neys-a husbanded grandeur created
with bit of pitch pine just before
arriving at town; the crew are
grouped on the forecastle; the broad
stage is run far out over the port
bow, and an envied deck-hand stands
pieturesquely on the end of it with a
coil of rope in his hand; the pent
steam is screaming through the
gauge-cocks; the captain lifts his !