The Puddleford Papers: or, Humors of the West

Venison said "we had better hunt up our camping-ground, for his stomach was getting holler, and he wanted to fill it up."

Below us, a sparkling stream put into the river. Just above it, a mile or so, lay a broad lake, which was fed from this same stream – it came in from the wilderness. We started for this lake, and wound our way up this little creek amid the struggling shafts of sunlight that hung over it. The water-fowl were hurrying past us, towards the same spot, to take up their night's lodging, and we drove flocks of them ahead as we crowded upon them. The dip of our oars echoed among the shadows. We reached our ground, unloaded our gear, and prepared for the night.

Venison directed Jim Buzzard to build a "stack" and get supper. So, a pile of stones was laid up, with a flat one across the top, leaving a hole behind for the smoke to escape. Venison knocked over a gray duck on the lake with his rifle, and it was not long before we had four feet of pickerel and that self-same duck sprawled out on the hot stone, frying.

Venison was rather gloomy. "This," said he, "makes me think of times gone. I used to camp here all alone, years ago, when there warn't no settlers for miles. I used to catch otter and beaver and rat, and sleep out weeks to a time. But the beaver and otter are gone."

"Beaver here?" inquired I.

"Why, not more'n nor a mile or so up this creek, I've killed piles on 'em. Why, I seed a company on 'em, up there, once, of two or three hundred. They com'd down one spring and clear'd off acres of ground that had grown up to birch saplings, that they wanted to build a dam with, and there they let the trees lie until August. Then they started to build their houses all over the low water in the mash – great houses four or five feet through – and they work'd in companies of four or five on a house till they got 'em done. You jist ought to see 'em carry mud and stones between their fore-paws and throat, and see 'em lay it down and slap it with their tails, like men who work with a trowel."

"Well," said I, "about those trees that they cleared off?"

"When they got 'em done, then they all jined in to build a dam, to raise up the water, so't wouldn't freeze up the doors of their houses. And then there was a time on't. You might see 'em by moonlight, pitching in the trees, and swimming down the stream with 'em, and laying 'em in the current of the creek, like so many boys."

"Pshaw!" said I.

"Yes, sir! I seed one night a lot of beavers drawing one of the biggest trees they had cut. It was more'n six inches through. They got it part over the bank, when it stuck fast. Jest the top of the tree was in the water, and there were four or five on 'em sousing round in the water, pulling this way and that, and as many more on the bank jerking at it, until byme-by it went in kerswash; the beavers all took hold on't, then, and towed it to the dam."

"And so they really built a dam?"

"A dam three feet high, and forty or fifty long – all laid up with birch trees, and mud and stones, so tight 'tain't gone yet. The beaver have gone long ago, but the dam hain't."

"How did you catch 'em?" said I.

"When the fur is good, in the winter, we jest went round with our ice-chisels and knocked their houses to pieces, when away they would go for their washes, as we used to call 'em, where we fastened 'em in and catch'd 'em."

"Washes? what are they?" inquired I.

"Holes the beavers dig in the bank, partly under water, where they can run in and breathe without being seen."

Venison was going on to tell me how many beaver skins he got, but the duck and fish were done, and had been divided up by Jim Buzzard, and handsomely laid out on a piece of clean bark, ready to eat.

We ranged ourselves in a row, squat upon the ground like so many Turks, drew our hunting-knives, and went to work. I looked out upon the lake that lay like a looking-glass, draped with gauze, at my feet. Day was dying over it like a strain of music. One slender bar of light lay trembling along its eastern shore. By and by it crept up the bank; from that to a mound behind, and from which it took a leap to a hill a mile distant, where it faded and faded into twilight. The water-fowl were screaming among the flags, and I noticed a belated hawk winging his way through the air on high, to his home in the forest. I could almost hear the winnowing of his wings in the silent sky. A chick-a-dee-dee came bobbing and winding down an oak near me, for the purpose of coaxing a supper. The trees began to assume uncertain shapes – the arms of the oaks stretched out longer and longer. The new moon grew brighter and brighter in the west. There it hung, looking down into the lake. The river sent up its hollow roar, the mists settled thicker and thicker, and solemn night at last came down over the wilderness.

After I had finished my watch of departing day, I looked around for my company. "Jim" had been stuffing himself for the last half hour, until he had grown as stupid as an over-fed anaconda. His jaws were moving very slowly over the bone of a duck – his eyes were drowsy – and every now and then he heaved a long-drawn sigh – a kind of melancholy groan over his inability to eat any more.

Venison said "we must build up our night fire to keep off the varmints," and accordingly we reared a pile of brush of logs, set it a-going, made up our bed of withered leaves, ranged ourselves in a circle with our feet turned to the blaze, and were soon lost in sleep.

Morn broke over us lovely as ever. As the first gray streaks began to melt away, Venison roused up to get a deer for breakfast. We went out on to a run-way, hid ourselves in the bushes, and soon a large buck, his antlers swung aloft, came snuffing and cracking along over the leaves, on his way to the lake to take his morning drink. Pop! and over he went, and soon his "saddles" were taken out and carried into camp, our stack started, and breakfast prepared.

Another day was loitered away among the fish – another day, beautiful as the last, we floated over the lake, and threaded the stream that poured into it. At night we found ourselves safely moored at Puddleford, our boat loaded with fish, and my soul filled with a thousand beautiful pictures of nature, that hang there winter and summer, as bright and lovely as life itself.

CHAPTER VI

Educational Efforts. – Squire Longbow's "Notis." – "The Saterday Nite." – Ike and the Squire. – Various Remarks to the Point. – Mrs. Fizzle and the Temperance Question. – Collection taken. – General Result.

There has been much written in the world about the benefits of education. I am very sure that its importance was not overlooked in Puddleford. I cannot say that the village has ever produced giants in literature, but it has produced great men, comparatively speaking and judging, and very great if we take the opinion of the Puddlefordians themselves. Somebody once said that "in the kingdom of the blind, the one-eyed are monarchs," and I suppose it was upon this principle, if we give the maxim a literal construction, that Squire Longbow, who had lost an eye, as the reader may recollect, had become elevated to such a pitch among his neighbors.

Education, in almost every western community, stands at about a certain level among the masses. That level changes with changing generations, but very seldom among individuals of the same. I ought perhaps to exclude the Squire, who was an exception to all general rules, and would have undoubtedly distinguished himself anywhere and under any circumstances. The children of the pioneer, or a portion of them, receive educational advantages, which had been denied the father, and their children still greater, until at last the polished statue rises out of the marble in the quarry.

But there were efforts making at Puddleford, about the time I allude to, to increase the common stock of knowledge, and keep up the general reputation of Puddleford with that of the world, which ought not to pass unnoticed.

One day in November, I discovered the following notice posted up in the streets, and nailed to several trees adjacent to the highways in the country: —

"NOTIS

"To all it may konsarn – men, wimmin, and their children. Whareas, edication, and knowlidg of all sorts, is very likely to run down in all knew countrys, owin to a great manny reasons that aint propper to go into this ere notis – and whareas many of the habitants of Puddleford and the circumjacint country all round bout it, are in danger of suffering that way – And whareas a few of us leading men have thot on the matter, and concluded that sumthing must very soon be did, or til be too late – therefore a meeting will be held at the log-chapel next Saterday nite, to raise up the karacter of the people in this respect.

(Signed.)

'Squire Longbow And others.'"

On the "Saterday nite," mentioned in the above "notis," I attended at the log-chapel, for the purpose of raising up the "karacter of the people." The gathering was large – made up of men and women, and quite a number were in from the country. Squire Longbow, the "Colonel," "Stub Bulliphant" the landlord of the Eagle, Ike Turtle the pettifogger, Sile Bates his opponent, Charity Beadle, Philista Filkins, "Aunt Graves," "Sister Abigail," Sonora Brown, and a large number of others, made up the meeting. It was very evident that something would be done. Pretty soon Ike Turtle rose, gave a loud rap with his fist on the side of the house, and said it was "high time this ere body came to order, and he would nominate Squire Longbow for President."

"You've heerd the nomination," continued the Squire, rising slowly from his seat in another part of the house. "You who are in my favor say Ay!"

"Ay!" exclaimed the house.

"Clear vote – no use in putting the noes;" and Squire Longbow took his stand in the pulpit, and proceeded: —

"Feller-citizens, ladies and gentlemen, all on you who are here, just keep still while I thank you. We have cum up here on a pretty big business – neither more nor less than edication. P'raps you don't all on you know that edication makes everybody and everything – it made our forefathers, it made some of us, and is a going to make our children, if we do our duty. You have made me President on this occasion, and it is my duty to thank you, and feller-citizens, you don't, you can't, no man can tell how I feel when – "

Here Ike Turtle rose. "Squire Longbow," said Ike, "arn't it rather on-parliamentary to be speaking when you hain't got no secretary to take things down?"

The Squire was thunderstruck. "No secretary!" he exclaimed, "no secretary! all void! but I'll appoint Sile Bates secretary tunk pro nunck (nunc pro tunc), as we say in law, and that'll save proceedings – and as I was saying," continued the Squire, "no man can tell how I feel, pressed down as I am with the responsibility that you have thrown on to me." The Squire then took his seat.

Ike Turtle rose again to state the object of the meeting. He said "he was an old residenter, and he had in fact grown up with the country. He had seed everything go ahead except edication. Taking out the President, members of the larned professions, the school-master, and the man who tended Clewes' grocery, there warn't hardly a person of edication left. Now," continued Ike, warming up, "this shouldn't orter be – we should all set about de tar mined to do something ('Amen!' groaned Father Beals.) Why, if it looks dark, feller-citizens, remember the dark days of the revolution, when the soldiers went roaming about, with a piece of corn-bread in one hand, nothing in t'other, with ragged uniforms on, and little or no breeches, yet all the while busting with patriotism. Jest turn your eyes backwards on to them times, and you'll think you're in paradise. Something's got to be did for edication. We've got to have a Lyceum, a library, and lecters on all the subjects of the day. (Here 'Aunt Graves' gave a groan, as she expected all this would be accomplished by taxation.) Don't groan over yender," exclaimed Ike, "'taint right to groan at a new thing just a-starting – might as well groan down a child for fear he wouldn't be a man. Yes, they must be had – I say they must! or we'll all run to seed, and die. Why, Christopher Columbus, men and women, how many on you don't know your right hand from your left, scientifically speaking, and byme-by we shall go to ruin as old Nineveh did. Mr. President, I move that a collection be taken for the gineral purposes of this meeting."

I was a little puzzled to determine whether Ike was serious or not. With all his eccentricities, he was a good citizen, and always put his shoulder to the public wheel. When he made his motion to take up a collection, a dead calm fell upon the audience. After a few moments, Sile Bates rose, and said, —

He "hoped this 'spectable meeting warn't going to Peter-out."

The calm continued. Squire Longbow stepped forward from his seat in the pulpit, and remarked that "he couldn't see what difference it would make a thousand years hence whether they did anything, or whether they didn't."

A man from the country "didn't know what money had to do with edication."

The Colonel said his pockets were "as dry as a powder-house."

One old lady thought "somebody'd have to sign for her 'fore spring."

Aunt Graves thought that "poor folks, who lived on bil'd vittels, hadn't orter be called on."

The hat was, however, passed around, and three dollars and seventy-five cents raised, "for the gineral purposes of the meeting," according to Ike's motion; and I will say here that this amount was appropriated towards the purchase of books for the Puddleford library, which was established at this meeting, and which has now grown into usefulness and importance.

The hat was reached up to the secretary, who gave it a couple of shakes, declaring at the same time, that he was "happy to say that the public spirit of Puddleford hadn't gin out yet."

Squire Longbow then rose and said, that "some plan must be laid to get up a set of lecters. There were three great sciences, law, preaching, and physic – law consarned property, physic consarned the body, and preaching consarned the soul. These sciences must be scattered, so everybody could enjoy 'em. He could talk on law himself, and Bigelow could on preaching, and physic was understood, any way. There were other subjects which would come up in their order. There was paintin', and poetry, and music – but them warn't of no account in a new country where money was skase. Politics was one of the uncertain sciences, and it didn't do much good to speak on't, any how. A feller might study and study, and just likely as not the next election would blow him into fiddle-strings. Yet politics had got to be had, 'cause that was what kept the country alive, and made liberty grow. Old Gineral Washington himself had a little on't. He said 'twas one etarnal job to start edication, but jist get the thing a-goin once, and it'll move off like ile – it'll run rite off like a steam injin."

Ike said "he know'd a curtain lecter or two might be had," looking round at Stub Bulliphant. "They warn't the worst kind nother. They'd bring a man all up standin', when nothin' else would. He'd seen a fellow cave right in under one on 'em, and come out as cow'd as a whipt spaniel. About lecterin' on politics, he didn't know. He guessed the bushes were a little too thick to talk on that, yet. He hoped the meetin' would speak right out, and 'spress their feelin's, wimmin and all."

Old Mrs. Fizzle had been watching the movement of this august body for some time, and had thought, several times, that it was her duty to speak. When Ike, therefore, invited "women and all," she concluded to try it. She was a tall, weasel-faced looking person, and belonged to Bigelow's church. She was an out-and-out temperance woman, and had kept all Puddleford hot by her efforts to put down the sale of intoxicating drinks. She was a fiery, nervous, active, good sort of a woman. Mrs. Fizzle rose. She said "she thought she would give this meetin' a piece of her mind, consarnin' things in general. She didn't know but the meetin' was well enough – she liked meetins – she said she didn't care nothin' about politics, never did her any good as she know'd on – she didn't want to hear any lecters any way 'bout that. If some on 'em would talk 'bout temperance, she'd turn out, and give a little something to help the cause along. She said if she really thought that this meetin' could stop Clewes from selling licker, she'd tend it reg'lar."

"Certainly, ma'am," said Ike, rising, and turning his eyes towards Mrs. Fizzle. "We'll put a habus corpus on to him 'fore breakfast to-morrow morning."

Mrs. Fizzle said, "she didn't know what that was, and she didn't care much, if 'twould only hold him tight."

Ike said "it would hold him – couldn't break it no how – it was made by the law to catch just such chaps with."

"Wal," said Mrs. Fizzle, "if the law made it, I'm 'fraid on't. I've hearn tell how folks creep through holes the law leaves. I don't like your scorpus, as you call it."

Squire Longbow rose. "He felt it his duty to say, that a writ of habus scorpus would hold anything on airth. It was one of the biggest writs in all nater. He could hold all Clewes' grocery with one on 'em. He felt it his duty further to say this as a magistrate, who was bound by his oath to take care of the law."

Mrs. Fizzle "thought that would do. She had great 'spect for the Squire's opinion – and she now thought she'd go in for the meetin'."

Sile Bates said, "for his part, he thought the meetin' was getting a good deal mixed. 'Every tub orter stand on its own bottom,' as the Apostle Paul, Shakspeare, John Bunyan, or some other person said. We can't do everything all at onst; if we try, we can't make the Millennium come until 'tis time for't. We can kinder straighten up matters – hold onto the public morals a little more – and give edication a punch ahead. But who knows anything about the sciences in Puddleford? and who can lecter? 'When the blind lead the blind,' as the newspapers say, 'they all go head over heels into the ditch.' Great Cæsar Augustus, Mr. President, jist think of a lecter on 'stronomy, that etarnal science, which no man can lay his hands on, which the human intellect gets at by figuring. Just think of Bigelow Van Slyck, Ike Turtle, or you, Mr. President, measuring the distance to the stars. Don't it make your head swim, to think on't? He wouldn't say that the Squire couldn't lay down the law for the people, 'cause he made most on't, and ought to know it by heart. (The Squire gave a loud cough, and straightened himself in his seat.) As for licker, he always was agin it, that is, he never touch'd it except in haying, harvesting, husking, and occasionally, a little along, between, when he didn't feel right. He s'posed he was a strict temperance man – was secretary of a teetotal society once, but it died out for want of funds to keep up lights and fires. He hop'd this meetin' wouldn't get so much on its shoulders, as to break down 'fore it got started."

There were several more speeches and suggestions made. There were two or three on the floor at once, several times, during the progress of business. Order was out of the question. A course of lectures was finally decided upon, and the meeting adjourned. The reader will not forget that the end had in view by this rough, deliberate body was noble; and, in their own way, they moved along steadily towards it. Such a people do not forget their duty, however ludicrously the discharge of it may be at first.

Looking back from the present, over a period of ten years, at the proceedings of this meeting and its results, I feel quite disposed to write down Squire Longbow, Ike Turtle, and Sile Bates, among the philanthropists of the age.

CHAPTER VII

Social War. – Longbow, Turtle & Co. – Bird, Swipes, Beagle & Co. – Mrs. Bird. – Mrs. Beagle. – Mrs. Swipes – Turkey and Aristocracy. – Scandal. – Husking-bees, and "such like." – The Calathumpian Band. – The Horse-fiddle. – The Giant Trombone. – The Gyastacutas. – Tuning up. – Unparalleled Effort. – Puddleford still a representative Place.

I have taken the liberty, in the preceding chapters, to speak freely of some of the leading characters of Puddleford. I have alluded to Longbow, Turtle, and Bigelow, not because they were the only people of the village, or the best; but because they were the rudder of society, and steered it along in the same way that ships are guided over stormy waters. Now, there were a great many more very excellent folks, who helped chink in and fill up around these more important personages, and make up an harmonious whole. Zeke Bird, the blacksmith, was one; Tom Beagle, the shoemaker, another; Lem Swipes, the tailor, still another. These men were among the first settlers of Puddleford, and had done as much towards its up-building as any other. They had immigrated from a place in Ohio, and consequently knew something about the world. All three families were cousins, or second cousins, to one another, and they acted in unison upon any public or social question.

They hated, with a supreme hatred, Longbow, Turtle & Co., because they were "aristocrats." Mrs. Bird, who was a very impulsive, peak-nosed sort of a woman, and who always wore a red flannel petticoat protruding beyond her dress, and her shoes slip-shod, used to often say, "that if there was anything she did despise it was a stick-up. She didn't believe old Mrs. Longbow, or any of her darters, were any better than common folks; and she'd see the whole pack on 'em pumpin' lightning at two cents a clap, before she'd skrouch to 'em!"

Mrs. Beagle was quite a different body. She was not so full of fire and fury as Mrs. Bird. She didn't allow her feelings to get the advantage of her malice. She moved more underground; yet she was always busy pecking away at that "up-street clique," as she called them.

Mrs. Beagle was a neat, tidy body, and wore an air of great sincerity about her face. She used to say that "nothing grieved her so much as to be compelled to believe anything bad 'bout her neighbors," and that "she never spoke of nothing till it got all over, and there warn't no use of holding in any longer." She made it her business to watch the morals and religion of all the Longbows, and Turtleses, and Bateses, and report accordingly. She said "she didn't know but it was all right for a member of the Methodist church, like Miss Lavinia Turtle, to wear three bows to her bonnet on Sunday – she didn't know– she warn't going to say – 'haps she hadn't orter say – but the way she looked at religion, 'twas as wicked as Cain – for herself, she made no pretensions, but when folks did, she wanted to see 'em lived up to." She said, "she meant to have Mrs. Bates turned out of the church for riding out on Sunday, for she'd seen her several times with her own eyes, six miles from town; but she wouldn't speak of it, if it warn't such a scandal on her profession;" besides, she had it from good authority, that "she water'd her milk 'fore she sold it, but she wouldn't say who told her, 'cause she promised not to."

Mrs. Swipes was a fat, blouzy-faced, coarse, ignorant woman, and revenged herself by firing bombshells into the aristocratic camp every opportunity she could get, and cared but little what she said, or whom she hit, if she could only keep the enemy stirred up. "She'd heard that Mrs. Longbow's father got into jail once down in Pennsylvania, and that the hull batch on 'em were as poor as Job's turkey; and that the old Squire himself had a pretty tight nip on't; but his friends bailed him out, and he lean'd for the west. As for Mrs. Bates, she knew she'd lie, right flat out – she'd catch'd her dozens of times; and, of course, Lavinia couldn't be any better – for as the old cock crows, the young one learns. She wouldn't swap characters with any on 'em, not she."

The husbands of these ladies thought just about as much of Longbow & Co. as their wives did. They were an indolent trio, and labored only enough to keep soul and body together. The rest of their time was devoted to the "Eagle tavern," street-lounging, and commentaries upon the daily developments of the aristocracy. Each one of the families of these cliques were social centres, around which others revolved, and drew all their light and heat. And then there were still other families, away down below the Birds and Beagles in the scale of respectability, who were ever warring upon them, proving

"That fleas have other fleas to bite 'em,

And so on, ad infinitum."

I recollect attending a party, one evening during the winter, at Bird's, when the aristocracy took a regular broadside fire. It seemed that Longbow, some days previous, had a turkey on his table for dinner, which roused up all the wrath of his adversaries. Mrs. Bird said, "she really s'posed that he thought poor people couldn't have such things; but she'd let him know she'd lived on' turkeys before he ever know'd there was such a thing – and she had good sass with 'em too. Mrs. Longbow," she said, "cooked it for nothing in the world but to make her knuckle to her; but she'd never give in as long as she drew the breath of life – that she wouldn't!"

Mrs. Sonora Brown said, "that warn't all – Longbow had bo't a bran new carpet for down-stairs, and used sales-molasses for common, eenamost every day – and the clark in Clewes' grocery had got a goin' arter Lavinny every night – and Mrs. Longbow had got mift at Mrs. Weazel, because Weazel said he wouldn't stand any more of Longbow's decisions – and they'd got a burning sperm ile in the house instead-er taller – and they were a puttin' on the drefulest sight of airs, old woman and all, that ever was seen."

Mrs. Beagle said "it was all true about the ile – she see'd it burn through the winder – and she'd seen a great many more things through the winder – but she warn't a going to tell what they were!"

Mrs. Sonora Brown threw up her hands in horror, and said, "she had always suspected it, but darsn't say so."

"O, shaw!" exclaimed Mrs. Beagle; "that's nothing to Bates' wife; she walks out arm-in-arm in broad daylight with her cousin that's been sneaking round there on a visit." She said, "Puddleford used to be a 'spectable village, but there warn't any morals any more since these high-flyers had got into it – and she guess'd Bates' wife was flaring out, and trading at the stores as much as Longbow."

Mr. Bird very grumly said, "he'd better hold in, for if he didn't hist a little note he had again' him 'fore long, he'd sue him to judgment, and level an execution on everything he had, and clean him out."

A yellow-looking woman, who sat in the corner, and who had just before remarked that "she'd had the shakin' ager onto her all winter," wanted to know if "the new marchant was going to jine the upper crust, or be one of our folks."

It was not long, however, before all were rattling away together, so that nothing but the emphatic words could be distinguished. Artillery, fire-arms, and all, were blazing. Such a scorching as the aristocracy received had hardly ever been equalled.

Longbow & Co. did not care for their enemies. They rather felt proud of the notice bestowed upon them. Ike Turtle used to say, "'twas fun to stand and take the fire of fools;" but Squire Longbow's dignity was so profound, that he never permitted himself to know that there was really any war going on.

Society in the country, among the farmers, was quite another thing. Puddleford village had a country, and village pride looked down upon it, just as it does in larger places. The amusements and frolics of the country were more simple and hearty. In the winter, husking-bees, apple-parings, and house-warmings were held every week at some of the farm-houses. Great piles of corn were stacked up in barn, the girls and boys invited in for miles around, long poles run through strung with lanterns, and the husking rushed through, 'mid songs and jokes. Then all hands adjourned to the house, and drank "hot stuff," ate nuts, and played games, and stormed around, until they started the very shingles on the roof; while the great fireplace, piled up with logs into the very throat of the chimney, shook its shadows around the room in defiance of the winds that roared without.

Now and then the country quality held a regular blow-out at Bulliphant's tavern. On these occasions, dancing commenced at two in the afternoon, and ended at daylight next morning. Dry goods and perfumery suffered about those days. The girls and boys dressed their hair with oil of cinnamon and wintergreen, and the Eagle smelt like an essence shop. It fairly overpowered the stench of Bulliphant's whiskey-bottles. Every one rigged out to within an inch of their lives. The girls wore ruffles on their pantalets frizzled down over their shoes, nearly concealing the whole foot; and all kinds and colors of ribbons streamed from their heads and waists. The "boys" mounted shirt-collars without regard to expense, and flaunted out their brass breast-pins, two or more to each, with several feet of watch-chain jingling in front. The landlord of the Eagle termed these gatherings his "winter harvest."

Another amusement, frequent in the country, was the turnout of the "Calathumpian Band." The band, I am aware, did not originate with Puddleford. Newly-married couples were serenaded before it ever had an existence there. But this band was one of the very finest specimens. No one knew exactly who its members were; but they were always on hand, soon after a wedding, in full uniform, with all their instruments in order. It was organized when the country was very new, and was, at the period I refer to, in the highest state of prosperity.

One of its instruments was called the "horse-fiddle;" another the "giant trombone;" another the "gyastacutas." The "horse-fiddle" was two enormous bows, made of hoops, heavily stringed and rosined, with a beef-bladder, fully inflated, pushed between the string and the bow. The "great trombone" was a dry goods box, turned bottom-side up, and was played upon with a scantling eight or ten feet long. The edge of the box and the scantling were rosined, and it was worked by two men sawing up and down. The "gyastacutas" was a nail keg, with a raw hide strained over it, like a drum-head, and inside of the keg, attached to the centre of this drum-head, a string hung, with which this instrument was worked by pulling in the string and "let fly."