The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1893-10-25
THE STORY OF BILL.
20 From the Chicago Record. ..ass::.7s

From The Chicago Record: :.1s:.~:
The change in Bill was noticed the
very day that Bill got back from the
East It;asurprisedEand .Ishocked us
all. Before he wentyaway Billswas
the liveliest and genuinest thorough
bred in the camp I dare say that in
all the Red Hoss mountain district
there wasn't gentleman who could
lay his tongue to stronger oaths and
more of 'em than could Bill-that's
why he was known far and wide'as
Damnation Bill, for the name that''a
fellow was known by out in that God s
own country in them days was not the
name given to him by his sponsors in
baptism, but by the other fellows who,
having pardnered with him and studied
his idiosyncrasies, were qualified to
give him name that, clearly and di-
rectly, conveyed succinct idea, as
the saying goes, of the most salient
features of his character. Damnation
Bill was name that fitted Bill to Z.
Curiosity enough, when Bill got
back from the East he didn't do no
more swearing, and it was that cir.
cumstance which created the scandal
the first. scandal Bill had ever been
identified with. Talking it over
among ourselves, the rest Of us fellows
figured it that Bill must have got
religion while he was down East, and
this seemed all the more likely when
we found out, just by chance one
evening, that Bill had been down East
to see his mother.
"Well," says Barber Jim, "if he
has got religion and has broke away
from the old traditions, supposin we
call him Parson Bill. F"
Just then Bill come in on us. He
had overheard what Barber Jim said,
although Barber Jim hadn't any idea
that Bill was within gunshot of
Casey's, where we was all confabulat-
7'Boys," says Bill, as calm like as
you please, "you can call me the old
name if you want to, or you can call
me any other name and [ won't kick.
I guess the worst name you could give
me wouldn't be too good for me. But
[ want you to know that | hain't got
religion, and, there bein' no objection,
I'll tell you somepin' that, bein' pard-
ners of mine, you ought to know.
IT wasn't more than kid" says
Bill, "when the war broke out. /
lived with the old folks down East
was the countryest boy you ever seen.
Readin' the Springfield Republican
from day to day as how the flag had
been insultcd, how forts had been fired
on and how the Union was in danger,
I-why, of course, my boy blood was
up and I just overlastin'ly bilin' over
to jine the war and 60 to the front and
save the country. So I run away from
home. 1t was hard on>the old folks,
for I was their only child, and I can
understand now that their hearts was
just sot on me. Well, I walked all
the way to Chatham Corners and join
ed the cavalry they was musterin' in
there. was only sixteen then, but |
was big enough for twenty; they
needed recruits and they didn't ask
too many questions. At Washington
1 wrote back home, and after that I
got letters from mother or father twice
week, and it wasn't long before
father sent me the colt he had raised
and broke and great hopes Of for the
next county fair trotting match, if ]
hadn't gone and joined the cavalry.
They never scolded me for running
away; it was always God bless you
and do your duty and things of that
kind they wrote, and mother always
put in p. S., saying. Willie, don't
forget to say your prayers.
"Some Of you" says Bill, "were in
that war, and you know what army
life was. Say my prayers {? Why,
who thought Of prayin in the midst
of that wild, hard, exciting life
Least of all the boy who had known
only the quiet and hundrum of country
life. Pardner, it does me good to lift
the weight off my mind and tell you
that I grew to be the toughest of the
lot. And swear -? Why, they used to
sit around and laugh at me. | got so
accomplished at it. No wonder they
called me Damnation Bill earned
that title, sure.
"The end of the war found me in
Kentucky. Some of the boys were
going to the mountains, for they had
no homes to call them back; they
meant to get rich quick and the gold
mining fever caught 'em. Why
shouldn't I go with 'em ? | had no
hankering for the old life in New
England with it's quiet folks and hum
drum, go-to-meetin' ways-not L.
The war had give me taste of adven-
ture; I wasn't long maxim up my
fool boy mind to take my chances with
my soldier comrades; so across the
plains I come and with the rest at
Pixies Peak I busted. There was
harder times after that. [ tended bar
two years in Denver, then I drove a
hack spell, and after that dealt in
Charley Simpsons bank; last thing
of all, gettin desperate, bought an
outfit and come up to Red Hoss noun
tain, havin' heard Casey and Three
Fingered Hoover tell Of the prospects
in this country. You see l was too
proud to 60 back home, bein' broke.
a good many times I'd have given my
skin to be there, eatin' mother s pies
and snoozin' in her feather beds, but
/ was too proud to go back broke, so |
stayed right here and done my best
with the rest of you fellows.
"The home folks kept writin the
same old kind of letters, cheerful and
+ patient-likc, sendin lots Of love and
tcllin' me over and over again about
things I had entirely forgotten. They
never scolded me about bein' so way
ward it was always God bless you
and do your duty, and just as she
had done when was boy in the war,
mother always put a p. ST. sayin'
willie, don't forget to say your
prayers. I used to laugh when I
read that the idea of Damnation Bill
sayin' his prayers was comical.
'I struck it rich last fall, as you
all know. From bein' a grubstaker
one week I was in a fair way to be a
bonanza king the next. And l was
ctnrt;n, To Dnnvnr ono mnrninr TO see