Book 5 — CHAPTER XV.

AN UNCOMMON ADVENTURE THAT BEFELL THE AUTHOR.

I said that, just as I arrived at the door of my dwelling, an adventure befell me; and truly, it was such an extraordinary one as has happened to no other individual in the land since the days of the unfortunate William Morgan. As I passed towards the door, a man whose countenance I could not see, for it was more than two hours after nightfall, and who seemed to have been lying in wait on the stoop, suddenly started up, exclaiming, in accents highly nasal, and somewhat dolorous,

"Well! I guess, if there's no offence, there's no mistake. I rather estimate that you're Mr. Zachariah Longstraw?"

"Well, friend! and what is that thy business?" said I, in no amiable tone.

"Well, not above more than's partickilar," said the stranger; "but I've heern tell much on your goodness, and I'm in rather a bit of the darnedest pickle jist now, with a sick wife and nine small children, the oldest only six years old, that ever you heerd tell on. And so, I rather estimated—"

"Thee may estimate theeself to the devil," said I. "How can the oldest child of nine be only six years old?"

"Oh, darn it," said the fellow, "there was three on 'em twins. But if you'll jest step round to my wife, she'll tell you all about it. Always heern you was a great andyfist, or what-d'-ye-call-it."

"Then thee has heard a great lie," said I, "and so thee may go about thee business, for I'll give thee nothing."

"Well now, do tell!" said the man, with a tone of surprise that conveyed a part of the emotion to myself, particularly when, by way of pointing his discourse with the broadest note of admiration, he suddenly clapped a foot to my heels, and laid me sprawling on the broad of my back.

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,—'"

that it was as long and soporific as a state constitution, or a governor's message—that it was actually sung to a psalm-tune, or something like it—and that, during the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and half of the fourteenth stanza, the little wagon rolled leisurely over a long and hollow-sounding bridge, which I had no doubt was one of the wooden Rialtos of the Schuylkill—having passed which, the driver whipped up, and away we went at a speed of at least six miles an hour.