Read Ebook: Buckskin Mose Or Life From the Lakes to the Pacific as Actor Circus-Rider Detective Ranger Gold-Digger Indian Scout and Guide. by Perrie George W Rosenberg C G Charles G Editor

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Ebook has 1482 lines and 100812 words, and 30 pages

He was profoundly astonished, and on reflection, I am compelled to say, well he might be.

"That's the exact sum I want," was my answer.

"But, young fellow! you're an entire stranger to me."

"So you are to me," I undauntedly replied. "I don't know you from Adam or any other fellow. But I like your face, and so, if you want a lift, I don't mind taking you with me into the pop-corn business."

He smiled. His smile was indeed a full-fed and jolly laugh.

"Well!" he said, "upon my word, I rather like your frank cheek. We'll go and see about it."

The result of the inquiries of Mr. Dobbs, the grocer in question, was that he not only advanced me the money to purchase the whole stock, but allowed me to store the corn in his own establishment. At the time it did not strike me as being so, but was doubtless the result of a sagacious forethought, as, should I fail in keeping my daily accounts square, he could easily foreclose on my stock-in-trade. Be this as it may, Mr. Dobbs did more for me. All well-regulated communities indulge in the licensing business--to a greater or less extent. So did, and probably does, Chicago. The unlicensed sale of pop-corn would have been a risky affair. When he told me this, my face fell. How was I to get a license.

Mr. Dobbs was equal to the emergency on this occasion, also.

"Come along with me to the Mayor."

It was the first occasion on which I had ever stood in the actual presence of such a high civic dignitary. The introduction was an era in my life. It would have been in that of any boy. The reader may therefore imagine that my equanimity, which my new friend had thought proper to denominate "cheek," felt somewhat abashed, as the magistrate looked up from his desk, and gazing, as I fancied, sternly at me, said:

"What is the matter now, Mr. Dobbs?"

"Mr. Mayor," responded Mr. Dobbs, "I wish to introduce to you a young friend of mine, who wishes to take out a license to sell pop-corn."

"It will be a hundred and fifty dollars."

I looked from the Mayor to my new friend. One hundred and fifty dollars! Where was the money to come from? I never before felt so near whimpering. Very certainly, I have never since. My boyhood must be remembered, as an apology for this tendency on my part. I was unable, in the extremity of my trouble, to utter a word of entreaty.

"He has no money, Mr. Mayor!" answered Mr. Dobbs. "So you must deal as kindly as possible with him."

The magistrate laughed, not at what my friend had said, but at my painful look of dismay. Mr. Dobbs also chuckled slightly. Then the Mayor observed:

"I will see what can be done for the lad. He seems a bright young fellow."

After saying this, he named the most liberal terms for the license, and when it was made out by his clerk and Mr. Dobbs had paid for it, with a very low bow, I turned to leave the office. At this moment a gentleman entered, whom the Mayor introduced to my benefactor. After doing so, he was beginning to mention what I had come to him for, when the new-comer turned to me, saying:

"Why, I know this young lad. He is my nephew."

The Mayor gazed at me and Mr. Dobbs, with some considerable surprise, as he ejaculated:

"Indeed!"

I felt that my face had crimsoned up to the very roots of my hair, but my reply was prompt and very bitter:

"You are entirely wrong, sir!"

It was impossible for me to avoid recalling the fact that he had not made me the slightest offer of assistance, while my generous benefactor had not only loaned me money, but given me some three hours of his time--the last, possibly, being the greatest amount of kindness.

"Yes."

"And you were born there?"

"Of course, I was."

"Your father had a brother in this city?"

"I know he had."

"Then, I am that brother and your uncle. You know it, for you spoke to me only yesterday."

"Did I?" was my angry exclamation.

Making another bow to the Mayor, I turned and walked out, leaving my disgusted uncle to stare, and, if he was given to profanity, to swear after me.

The pop-corn business, so strangely commenced, grew and prospered. From my one small basket, it gradually extended itself. At last a regiment--or rather one small company of boys--with cans containing it, with the name of "Mose" painted on them, strapped upon their shoulders, sold pop-corn in the streets, the cars, the theatres, and the hotels. Why or how I came to take the name of "Mose," it is perhaps difficult to say. But I had commenced life in the Circus, when the "Mose" of Chanfrau was an universally quoted name throughout the country. It had been my name on the bills with Dan Rice, Older and Orton, and Levi North. Remaining in my memory, it probably stuck to me when I embarked in my new calling.

Comparative wealth seemed to be pouring in on me. In a measure, I was becoming not only a lad of means, but somewhat locally celebrated under the name of my adoption.

To account for my rapidly gaining money, it must be remembered that one bushel of shelled, makes eleven of popped corn. My profits were consequently in proportion, even if the whole trade of Chicago, in this thriftily manufactured commodity, had not been in my hands.

With the termination of my winter's sale of pop-corn which closed, I may state, with gratification, with as much gain for the good Mr. Dobbs as for myself, I had again to think of employment. Luckily, the results of my two accidents were now entirely healed, and although I could scarcely have risked appearing yet in the circus, I saw no reason to preclude me from going behind the footlights. After some difficulty, theatricals being less overstocked then, than now, I obtained an engagement at Rice's, latterly known as MacVicker's Theatre.

It was here decided that comic business was my "line," and the public, not unnaturally, were more than kind to one whom pop-corn had made a sort of favorite.

Bright visions of future reputation as a legitimate actor began to rise upon me; but at the close of this season, the difficulty of procuring another engagement forced me to become a theatrical Arab in Yankee Simpson's travelling company.

After a brief wandering under their tent, I dissolved my connection with it, and returned to my last year's Eldorado--Chicago. The reason for my taking this step, it is unnecessary to put in print. The theatrical profession will readily divine it, when they are told that shortly after, I formed a not unimportant member of a joint-stock travelling company, which for the next six months ran through Illinois and Wisconsin. We had reached Racine, in the latter State, when our co-operative speculation came to a sudden end. One morning, on quitting our virtuous couches, we found that the bed on which our treasurer reposed had not been tenanted. The vagabond had "absquatulated" with the whole of the joint-stock funds.

Here was a situation for the future Forrests, Placides, Broughams, and Jeffersons of the American stage--for, as such, we considered ourselves. We were "dead broke."

Four of these budding reputations, Wolf, Sam Ryan, McManus, and myself, were tendered by the tenderhearted public a Benefit, to rescue us from our financial difficulties. It need scarcely be said with what a buoyant sense of gratitude its pecuniary results were received by us.

Once more, I struck for Chicago. It was in a beeline.

It need scarcely be explained that I, at any rate, was heartily sick of the joint-stock travelling business in theatricals.

Here, old Dan Emmett, of Emmett's Varieties, in Randolph Street, Chicago, gave me a short engagement, after the close of which I accompanied Maggie Mitchell to Milwaukie, where I played with that lady at the Academy of Music.

The engagement had been for Miss Mitchell most successful, when one evening my horror may be imagined at seeing the face of my father among the audience in front of the scenes. For the moment, I felt as if I should be glad to see the stage open, and sink through it. My tongue seemed cleaving to the roof of my month. How I got through my part, it would be impossible to say. But I managed to do so, and was in my dressing-room when the call-boy entered and informed me a gentleman was waiting to see me.

"Why was he let in?" I roared out.

"Please; Mister! he said he wanted to see you on most important business."

Rushing to the window of the dressing-room, I looked out. It was no use of thinking of escape, that way. The room was on the third story. A leap from it was not to be thought of, even if the loose brick and timber piled at the base of the wall of the theatre had not rendered it doubly a mad experiment. Delaying as long as I could, I was at last forced to descend. It was, on my part, a decidedly unrehearsed scene in real life.

I do not like to speak of my father's remonstrance, or the tears which accompanied his appeal to me to return home. My pride prevented me from weeping, but it could scarcely do so. And, indeed, when he took some considerable blame to himself for having thrown me upon this vagabond life, I am not quite certain that my eyes were not wet as well as his.

Suffice it, that, at the close of my present engagement, I consented to comply with his wishes, and renounce the stage. Then, and only then, he left me.

On my way home, at the close of the performances, in Milwaukie, of Maggie Mitchell, I had determined to pause for a day or two with a friend who was then in Waukegan. Lewis was considerably older than myself, and since we had first met I had become much attached to him, as youth generally does to greater years when they choose to associate with it. Here occurred my third physical misadventure.

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