The Swamp Doctor's Adventures in The South-West: Containing the Whole of The Louisiana Swamp Doctor; Streaks of Squatter Life; and Far-Western Scenes; In a Series of Forty-Two Humorous Southern and Western Sketches, Descriptive of Incidents and CharacterRobb, John S.
General
The Swamp Doctor's Adventures in The South-West: Containing the Whole of The Louisiana Swamp Doctor; Streaks of Squatter Life; and Far-Western Scenes; In a Series of Forty-Two Humorous Southern and Western Sketches, Descriptive of Incidents and Character
Robb, John S.
Southwest, Old -- Social life and customs
It is a sultry day in June, and I am about describing the external
appearance of Jim's pre-emption. A small patch of green and waving corn,
surrounded by a brush fence, save where it is eked out, by the side of
an antiquated log-cabin, with a dirt chimney, around whose top the smoke
is lying in dense heaps, too lazy to curl; one or two bedraggled hens,
by noisy cackling, are endeavouring to inform the mistress that their
diurnal recumbencies are consummated--whilst the cock of the walk,
desirous of egging them on to increased exertions, struts majestically
before them, waving one feather, constituting his tail, and seriously
meditates a crow; but when he reflects that the exertion of flapping his
wings must premise, contents himself with a low chuckle of admiration.
An old hound, mangy and blear-eyed, is intent upon a deer's leg; and, as
he gnaws its tough sinews, tries to delude himself into the belief that
it is a delectable morsel from the ham. A boy of some thirteen winters,
in full dress swamp costume (a short, well-worn shirt), rifle in hand,
at a short distance from the house, is endeavouring to allay the mental
and bodily disquietude of a fox-squirrel, so that they both may be on
the same side of a chunky gum, up which the aforesaid squirrel, on the
approach of the incipient Nimrod, had incontinently retreated. Spiffle,
jun., sneaks round to the south side, but “funny” hangs on the north,
east, and west--back to the north and south, all in vain! All the points
of the mariner's compass are traversed, but still the cunning squirrel
evades his foe, who, venting his malediction, finally retires from the
pursuit, muttering, “Cuss you! I was only going through the motions;
the rifle ain't loaded!” The lord of the soil, extended to his full
proportions, is lying on a log, beneath a shady bush; a branch of which
is bent down and so ingeniously arranged, that when the breeze moves, it
will scratch his head; his mouth is full of tobacco--and as he sleeps,
true to his nature, his right hand is busily engaged stealing a couple
of dimes and an old jack-knife out of his own pocket; his jaws are
relaxed, and the huge, well-chewed quid gleams beautifully dark from the
profundity of mouth; a gentle titillation on his lips half arouses him,
and, champing his jaws with an emphasis, his waking senses are saluted
by the yell of his eldest born, who, on the failure of his squirrel
enterprise, finding dad asleep, had made an heroic attempt to hook his
sire's quid out of the deep abyss. The poor boy pays dearly for the
attempted larceny--three fingers hanging by mere shreds of skin, are the
attestations of his dad's strength of jaw. The scream of the poor devil,
and the boisterous grief of the miserable squatter, who, though the
“Arab” of the swamp, has still a father's feelings, brings from the
cabin a form which, begrimed with dirt, and haggard with premature age,
would scarcely be taken for the best of God's works--a woman--but such
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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