{"id":783,"date":"2010-04-24T13:12:50","date_gmt":"2010-04-24T20:12:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/?p=783"},"modified":"2012-06-18T12:06:29","modified_gmt":"2012-06-18T12:06:29","slug":"dick-and-i-chapter-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/783\/dick-and-i-chapter-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Dick and I, Chapter 2, 19th Century Unpublished Book by S. B. McKenney"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Dick<\/a>
Dick and I by Samuel Bartow McKenney<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

This manuscript was written before 1881 by Samuel Bartow McKenney. In the transcription I’ve not changed spellings or punctuation unless I absolutely must for coherence. There were no periods in the manuscript and I have added those.<\/em><\/p>\n

Chapter II<\/strong><\/p>\n

But, hoply, a poor artisan
\nSearched, ceaselessly, ’till he
\nFound, safe asleep, the little one,
\nBeneath a beechun tree.<\/em>
\nCampbell<\/p>\n

Her eyes
\nwere black as death, their lashes the same hue
\nOf down cast length in whose silk shadows lie
\nDeepest attraction<\/em>
\nByron<\/p>\n

A few days afterwards, taking with me a light fowling piece I
\nstarted on a ramble through the woods taking the direction of
\nCarsons Bay.<\/p>\n

There was no road, but an old path wound through the mazes of the
\nforest and was almost covered with crimson maple leaves, with here
\nand there a bright yellow one from the aspens; or popples as the
\npeople there termed them while the oaks and basswoods gave them
\nmore modest tinted offerings with a quiet quiet hand.<\/p>\n

The ironwoods elms and white birches were all gorgeously arrayed
\nand were slowly and silently covering their roots with the soft
\nsplendor of their apparel. The air was cool, light and bracing and
\ngave one from its excess of oxygen a boyant and exhilerated
\nfeeling amounting almost to intoxication.<\/p>\n

A little red squirel darted up on the trunk of an oak and
\nchattered and frisked his tail keeping time to his own music by
\ntramping his hind feed and acted much as though he were
\nintoxicated or filled with a sort of exhileration and wanted all
\nthe world to see how happy he was.<\/p>\n

The path ran down a gentle slope covered with dark growth of
\ngigantic maples and skirted one of those gloomy looking tamarac
\nswamps that are so numerous in Northern Minnesota.
\nThe change from the bright autumn tinted forest to the dusky gloom
\nof the swamp was indeed striking. The trees grow very straight and
\ntapering and often attain a height of a hundred and fifty feet.<\/p>\n

– 4 –<\/p>\n

Still the very largest seldom measures over twenty inches in
\ndiameter at the base.<\/p>\n

The swamps up which they grow appear to have formerly been lakes
\nthat have been covered over with a floating bog that is
\nintracately woven together by a net work of their roots. A man can
\nstand on this bog and shake the tops of the tallest trees and
\nindeed of several of them, by simply springing up and down.
\nSome partridge flew up from a clump of back haw bushes where they
\nhad been feeding and allighted on some small ironwoods near by
\nThe feelings of the dreamer were exchanged for those of the
\nsportsman and my gun was soon ringing cherrily on the morning air
\nI had succeeded in bringing down three of the fluttering birds and
\nwas aiming on a fourth when I was startled by the crack of a rifle
\nnear by and my bird fell to the earth minus a head. Turning
\npartially around toward the place from whence the sound proceeded
\nI was greeted with a light laugh from Rashboy who held his smoking
\nrifle in his hand.<\/p>\n

“Rather an unmannely trick,” said he, “but really I could not resist
\nthe temptation of giving you a little suprise. Pray pardon my
\nrudeness,” said he advancing and giving me his hand. “If there
\nwere any rudeness,” I replied. “I entirely lost sight of it in the
\npleasure I experienced in meeting you”.<\/p>\n

“Which pleasure is mutual I assure you I have had enough of my
\nown dark thoughts for one day and prefer more cheerful company. If
\nyou care to extend your hunt about a mile over to Chapmans Point I
\nshall be very glad of your company. I think you will find the
\nshooting better.”<\/p>\n

“With pleasure. I have been there by water and I think the sien is
\nbeautiful whether there is any game or not.”<\/p>\n

“Yes the view is fine. I should like to make a sketch or two if
\nyou will wait on me when we get there.”<\/p>\n

“Why of course I”ll wait.”<\/p>\n

“Come on then I want to get there in time for dinner.”<\/p>\n

“Dinner?”<\/p>\n

“Yes.”<\/p>\n

“I thouht there was no one living on the point.”<\/p>\n

\u201cNeither is there,” he replied “but if you will allow me to act as
\ncook I think with the assistance of our game bags I can improvise
\na dinner that will be better than dining on this empty air which
\nby the way appears to be a great appitizer here.”<\/p>\n

“I am at your service if there is to be any prospect of dinner.”<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat game have you?”<\/p>\n

“Two partridges.”<\/p>\n

“Good! I have one and some bread and butter that my landlady put
\nup for me — Our course lies in this direction now,” said he<\/p>\n

– 5 –<\/p>\n

diverging from the path and going westward.<\/p>\n

“You are dormicled at the Maplewood house then are you?”<\/p>\n

“Yes — and if I can’t boast of such a picturesque host as you
\nfor her lack the flannel had and moth patches which when viewed by
\nthe flicking glare of the fire light has such a striking effect.
\nStill the deficincy is made more reconcilable by the (tre —- ) he
\nposseses in his landlady. She is indeed an excellent person — to
\nmake toast and coffee and then she feels so kindly interested in
\nyour shirt buttons ~~ and private papers when they are not locked
\nup.”<\/p>\n

“Don’t you find her solicetude a little annoying some –”<\/p>\n

“Hark! What is that.”<\/p>\n

“I hear nothing.”<\/p>\n

\u201cThere it is again!” he replied after listening for a moment \u201clt
\nsounds like a child crying and can not be far off.”<\/p>\n

I listened attentively. A sobbing wailing cry came floating
\nthrough the trees.<\/p>\n

“How in the name of all that is wild could a child get here in
\nthis wilderness,” I exclaimed.<\/p>\n

“I dont know. We will soon see.”<\/p>\n

And with long rapid strides my companion started in the direction
\nof the sound Some times the noise would cease and we would be
\nobliged to wait until it was repeated when we would push rapidly
\nforward Presently it ceased altogether and we came to a
\nstandstill.<\/p>\n

“I am enclined to think Mr. Rashboy that the sounds we have been
\nfollowing were made by some cowboy who has been ammusing himself
\nat our expense.”<\/p>\n

“I hope so but I dont believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n

“What shall we do?”<\/p>\n

“Continue our search: I had rather risk being laughed at than risk
\nleaving any one in distress.”<\/p>\n

“All right let us go on.”<\/p>\n

“Stay! Let us separate and push forward a few rods apart.”<\/p>\n

We according proceeded slowly about six rod apart for some time in
\nsilence; looking carefully into every little cope of Kinnikinic
\nand Wild Currant bushes and I was beginning to tire of what I
\nmentally termed a wild goose chase I turned toward Rashway for
\nthe purpose of proposing a cessation of the search when I saw him
\ngazing intently at his feet. At that insistance he turned toward
\nme and silent beckoned me to approach. I noticed as I advanced
\nthat there was a softened look in his eyes and expression on his
\nface that I had never seen there before.<\/p>\n

– 6 –<\/p>\n

“What is it?” I asked as I reached his side.<\/p>\n

\u201c”Hist! Look!”<\/p>\n

On the mossy roots of an old maple lay a child, a little girl,
\napparent about three years old, fast asleep; the brown curls were
\ndishelved and partially concealed the sweet tear stained face
\nnested on one little chubby arm and a large pearly tear still
\nglistened in the long fringes of the closed eye lid. Both face and
\narms were shown out clearly and softly by the dark green moss on
\nwhich she which she reclined. Some withered flowers, a few bright tinted
\nleaves and a sprig pf scarlet bitter sweet berries had fallen from
\nthe listless fingers of the other hand to the ground. Rashboy laid
\naside his rifle and knelt down and gathered the little sleeper, as
\ntenderly as her won mother might have done, in his arms.<\/p>\n

\u201cPoor Baby” said he softly dissing the tear stained face. “You have
\ncried yourself to sleep away off here in this lonesome wood with
\nno one to wipe the tears away. Come, Ethridge, lets go home.”<\/p>\n

“But,” I replied, “her parents may be near and are now hunting for
\nher.”<\/p>\n

“Let them hunt,” he exclaimed almost fiercely. “The parent that
\nwould allow a little one like this to wander off alone in this
\ninfernal wilderness do not deserve to ever find her., But stay,” he
\nadded seating himself on a log with the child in his arms. “You
\nare right Let us wait awhile. We may hear them call. They can not
\ncertainly be far off.”<\/p>\n

“How far are we from the lake?”<\/p>\n

\u201cAbout a furlong Look, you can see the water glimmering through
\nthe trees.”<\/p>\n

When he turned his face again toward his charge he encountered a
\npair of large brown eyes that were regarding him attentively.<\/p>\n

“I quied drefful hard didnt I?”<\/p>\n

“Yes dear: but you are not afraid now are you?”<\/p>\n

\u201cNo–You won\u2018t let the toads bite me will you?”<\/p>\n

“Certainly not. Where is your papa?”<\/p>\n

“Yous my papa, aint you coz I aint got no ovver papa.”<\/p>\n

“Who is your mamma?”<\/p>\n

The big brown eyes looked solomly up into his.<\/p>\n

“Grampa I reckon: who your mamma?”<\/p>\n

“I have none darling.”<\/p>\n

She wound one little chubby arm around his neck and stroked his
\nbearded face with the other hand.<\/p>\n

“What is your name little one?”<\/p>\n

– 7 –<\/p>\n

“Bertie.”<\/p>\n

“Bertie what?”<\/p>\n

“Dis Bertie. Has you dot any name?”<\/p>\n

“Yes. Call me Uncle Dick.”<\/p>\n

“I like you drefful well Uncle Dick — Has you dot any chickens?”<\/p>\n

“No Darling! would you like to come and live with me?”<\/p>\n

“An Lota too.”<\/p>\n

“Where is Lota?”<\/p>\n

“Toads got her I reckon an Nena too.\u201d<\/p>\n

“Do you know, Ethridge, I almost wish no one would ever call for
\nthis little waif — I would like to keep her myself.”<\/p>\n

I sat and looked at him in stupid wonder was the man crazy?<\/p>\n

“What in the name of King Herod would you do with her. A baby and
\na girl too.”<\/p>\n

“Hark! I hear voices! Some one is coming! Ladies by the Great
\nMogul. Young too and beautiful,” he continued as they came round a
\nclump of box elders into full vision.<\/p>\n

“One of them is, at least,” I replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhich one?”<\/p>\n

“Can you ask? Man where is your eyes why the one with the dark
\neyes and hair There is not her peer in all America.”<\/p>\n

“Tastes differ,” he replied smiling. The other with the golden hair
\nand blue eyes is more to my taste although both are beautiful.”<\/p>\n

“Let us speak to them. See they are looking for the child and she
\nis weeping those glorious dark eyes are swimming in tears.”<\/p>\n

“What would I not suffer,” I exclaim under my breath, “to be worthy
\nof such jewels” —<\/p>\n

“Poor Boy! So bad as that,” said he laughing. “She is probably the
\nchild’s mother and I dare say has a red headed husband nearby.”<\/p>\n

I felt as though some one had suddenly ran an icicle down my back
\nand as though I should like to knock him down, but was saved
\nfuture sensation of a similar character by the approach of the
\nladies.<\/p>\n

“Can you tell me,” said Rashboy, “anything of this little wanderer?”<\/p>\n

“0h! Indeed yes,” exclaimed the dark haired one recovering from her
\nsuprise at seeing us. “It is our little sister.” (Sister! Thank
\ngoodness.) “It is Bertie, Hope Where did you find her sir?”<\/p>\n

“Under this tree asleep I heard her crying and followed the sound<\/p>\n

– 8 –<\/p>\n

but she was asleep when we found her,” explained Rashboy.<\/p>\n

The child was awakened by the sound of voices and raised her
\ncurley head from Rashboys shoulder and regarded her friends very
\ncomplacently but did seem inclined to get down.<\/p>\n

“Oh Bertie,” exclaimed the ladies addressed as Hope reaching out
\nher arms for the child. “You frightened us nearly to death.”<\/p>\n

“Maybe he\u2018ll take you Lota if you guy dufful hard like I did,”
\nshe said —-<\/p>\n

\u201cAllow me,” said Rashboy breaking in rather awkardly into the
\nchilds revelations, “to introduce my friend Mr Etheridge and myself
\nRichard Rashboy at your service.”<\/p>\n

“My name,” said the fair haired lady giving hem her hand, “is Hope
\nBlanchard, this is my sister Inez and this little (truant?) is my
\nadopted sister Bertie and now gentlemen,” continued she turning to
\nme. “Allow me to thank you both for your kindness.”<\/p>\n

“And I, too, thank you,” said Miss Inez, “for restoring our little
\nfavorite. We almost idolize her.”<\/p>\n

A moment afterward I was conscious of feeling a little soft hand in
\nmine and of seeing a pair of large dreamy eyes turn their dark
\nsplendor upon me for a moment and of wishing that I might have an
\nopportunity of hunting lost babies every day.<\/p>\n

“Come Bertie lets go and find Grandpa,” said Miss Hope.<\/p>\n

“Ise tird Uncle Dick go too.”<\/p>\n

“Let me carry her – poor little one – I dare say she is tired.”<\/p>\n

“Uh if you please — This way: it is not far. We were having a
\nquiet family picnic on the lake shore and after dinner Inez and I
\nstrolled off for a walk and left Bertie asleep on some shawls in
\nthe shade. We left Papa to take care of her but he went to sleep
\ntoo and when he awaked she was gone. He thought at first that she
\nwas with us but when we returned without her we were all terribly
\nfrightened.”<\/p>\n

“Poor Papa! He is doubtless hunting for her now,” said Miss Ines.<\/p>\n

“Uh let us hasten please.”<\/p>\n

The rest of the walk to the lake shore was soon accomplished.
\nRashboy leading the way with the child and the rest of us
\nfollowing as close as possible. We presently emerged in an open
\nglade or rather what had once been a small clearing for an old
\nrotton tumbled down log hut stood near. At the lower edge of a
\ngentle slope was the lake. A small sloop was mored by the beach. A
\nbasket containing the fragments of a repast and some shawls lay
\nscattered under the shade of a large birch but not a living soul
\nwas to be seen. The father had evidently not returned from his
\nsearch after the child. The girls looked anxiously round and the
\ntears gathered in the dark eyes of Inez.<\/p>\n

“Papa will be so worried I am afraid it will make him swoon,” she
\nexclaimed “Only think what he must be suffering.”<\/p>\n

– 9 –<\/p>\n

“Please excuse me for a few minutes ladies,” said I, “and I will try
\nand find him.”<\/p>\n

“Oh Mr Etheridge if you will be so kind,” and the dark eyes turned
\nappealing toward me.<\/p>\n

“Should you find him first, Etheridge,” said Rashboy, “fire your
\ngun I will do the same He certainly is not far away.”<\/p>\n

“What direction shall you take?” I asked.<\/p>\n

“I shall go to the eastward.”<\/p>\n

“Very well. We came from the south so I shall go westward. Be of
\ngood cheer ladies. We will not be gone long I trust.”<\/p>\n

“Oh I trust you will find him soon he is not able to be
\ntravelling round through the woods.”<\/p>\n

\u201cNever fear. We will soon be back,” and without more ado we struck
\noff in opposite direction into the forest.<\/p>\n

(Note 1) I had left my practice in New Orleans in charge of a
\nfriend or rather my patience had (eff—?) for ( —– ?) healing
\n(—–) and run up here the week before for a months rest. The
\nexcessive heat of the summer and hard work had made terrible
\ninroads on my health. I had chosen this place in the extreme north
\nto any of the more fashionable watering place because I needed
\nrest and I have yet to find any rest at Lost Braude or Newport
\nunless one can concieve a succession a hot crowded hotel and tough
\nbeef ( —– ) coffee old ( —– ) various phenphanded of fashionable
\nmanly ( —– ). Here I found good hunting and the finest fishing
\nanywhere. The atmosphere is pure and bracing and is a far better
\ncordial than any mineral water that I have found anywhere. I
\nleaned back in my easy chair and listened to the howling tempest
\nwith a feeling of great comfort. No patients to visit. No long
\nrides through the storm and darkness called out by the whinned
\nfancies of some old hypocondriac when sole aim and object in life
\nappears to be to make everyone uncomfortable.<\/p>\n

(Note 2) Although I have been practicing my profession that of a
\nphysician in New Orleans for the last year.<\/p>\n

Go to Table of Contents for “Dick and I”<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This manuscript was written before 1881 by Samuel Bartow McKenney. In the transcription I’ve not changed spellings or punctuation unless I absolutely must for coherence. There were no periods in the manuscript and I have added those. Chapter II But, hoply, a poor artisan Searched, ceaselessly, ’till he Found, safe asleep, the little one, Beneath […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":8359,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,1],"tags":[192,686],"class_list":["post-783","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-mckenney-family","category-uncategorized","tag-dick-and-i","tag-samuel-bartow-mckenney"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/783","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=783"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/783\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/8359"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=783"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=783"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/evermore.imagedjinn.com\/blg\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=783"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}