Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)Bird, Robert Montgomery
General
Sheppard Lee, Written by Himself. Vol. 2 (of 2)
Bird, Robert Montgomery
American fiction -- 19th century; Satire
My astonishment and wrath may well be imagined; but they were nothing
to the terror that beset me, when, recovering a little from the
stunning effects of the fall, I opened my mouth to cry aloud, and found
it instantly stuffed full of handkerchiefs, or some such soft material,
which the pretended beggar took that opportunity to gag me with. The
next moment I felt myself whipped up from the ground and borne aloft,
like a corpse, on the shoulders of two men, who trudged along at a
rapid pace, and apparently with the greatest unconcern possible; for
some of the people in the street hearing my groans, which were the only
sounds I could make, and demanding what was the matter, were answered
by my cool captors, "Oh, nothing more than's partickilar--only a poor
mad gentleman that broke hospital; guess he won't do it again. Raving
mad, and hollers a gag out. I say, Sam, hold fast to his legs, and
don't let him jump; for I rather estimate, if he gets loose, he'll kill
some on these here people."
The villain! I had begun to hope my moans and struggles, which I made
for the purpose as loud and furious as I could, having no other way of
calling for help, would cause some of the persons collected to arrest
the rogues, and inquire into the matter a little more closely; but no
sooner had the villain expressed his fears of the mischief I might do,
than all inquiries ceased, and a horrible scraping and rattling of feet
told me that assistance and curiosity had scampered off together.
In three minutes more I found myself clapped into a little covered,
or rather _boxed_ wagon, such as is used by travelling tinmen, and
held fast by one of the rogues, while the other seized upon the reins,
and whipping up a little nag that was geared to it, we began to roll
through the streets at a round gait, and with such a rattle of wheels
and patty-pans, that there was little hope of making myself heard, had
I possessed the voice even of an oyster-man. My companion took this
opportunity to secure my wrists in a pair of wooden handcuffs, and
to lock my feet in a sort of stocks, secured against the side of the
wagon. Then, overhauling the handkerchiefs, and arranging them more to
his liking, though not a whit more to mine, he opened his mouth and
spoke, saying,
"Now, uncle Longlegs, I estimate we'll be comfortable. So keep easy;
or, if you _will_ grunt, just grunt in tune, and see what sort of a
bass you'll make to Old Hundred."
With that the rascal, after pitching his voice so as to accommodate
mine as much as possible, began to sing a song; of which all that I
recollect is, that it related the joys of a travelling tinman--tricks,
rogueries, and all;--that it began somewhat in the following fashion;--
"When I was a driving along Down East,
I met old Deacon Dobbs on his beast;
The beast was fat, and the man was thin--
'I'll cheat Deacon Dobbs,' says I, 'to the skin,--'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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