Sunday was Valentine's Day. I received a few doubtfully appropriate souvenirs, but did not discover the name of a single friend in the batch. Before leaving Ripley I was presented with a large and handsome dog, a cross between the bloodhound and the mastiff, a pup weighing 98 pounds, which I named Donkeyota. The generous donor was a Mr. W. W. Rickenbrode, who accompanied me some distance to a.s.sist me in handling the huge animal, in case of emergency. He had no sooner bade me good-bye than I feared lest I should not be able to make another mile that day. The wind blew a hurricane. While pa.s.sing a cemetery, I took a snap-shot of square grave-stones, which photograph shows them rolling in that driving gale. It was the most wonderful demonstration of the wind's power I ever witnessed.

Shortly afterward, in descending a steep and icy road into a gully the sled with its burden ran against my donkey's heels, upset him, and carried him half way down the hill. In my anxiety and haste to a.s.sist Mac, and hold on to my hat, I dropped the dog's chain, and away he went kiting down hill after the sled; and I needed four hands. To my surprise, the dog, Don, seemed to enjoy the entertainment, and instead of fleeing back to Ripley, rolled in the snow and barked in glee.

We reached the Half Way House, Harbor Creek, after dark. Next morning after breakfast the landlord's little daughter came rushing into the house to impart the thrilling news that John, their horse, had a little colt; and, enthusiastically leading us to the stable, she pointed to my donkey and said, "There! see?"

Mac A'Rony turned his head and regarded the little one with a comical expression on his countenance, as much as to say, "If I brayed, you'd think me a Colt's revolver."

Upon entering the city of Erie, Pa., the Transfer Company sent an invitation to Mac A'Rony and Donkeyota to be its guests; I sought a leading hotel, and busied myself with my newspaper article.

Tuesday, late in the day, we started for Fairview, twelve miles beyond. We pa.s.sed many jolly sleighing parties, some of whom stopped to chat with me, and share with me refreshments, and purchase my chromos; and one sleigh load promised to entertain me royally at the hotel. They kept their word, and after refreshments and an hour's rest, we resumed the journey in the light of the full moon, arriving at Girard by 9:30. Next morning, the village constable arrested my attention and persuaded me to act as auctioneer at a vendue; by which deal I made some money. I worded the hand-bill as follows:

AUCTION SALE.

Monday, February 15th, 1897.

The farm of Jeremy Shimm, its buildings, live-stock, farming utensils and implements, its crops and its woodland, its weals and its woes, including the following named articles and belongings, will be sold under hammer this day at 10 a. m.: Barns and sheds, and other stable articles, pens and pig-pens, hen-roosts, dog-kennels, house and smoke-house, step-ladders, dove-cotes, buggies, wagons, traps and rat-traps, plows, sows, cows, bow-wows, hay-mows, sleds, beds, sheds, drills, wills and mills, wagon-jacks and boot-jacks, yoke of oxen, yolk of eggs, horse-clippers, sheep-shears, horse-rakes, garden-rakes, cradles, corn-cribs and baby-cribs, cultivators, lawn mowers, corn-sh.e.l.lers, chickens and coops, roosters and weatherc.o.c.ks, swine, wine, harrows, wheel- barrows, bows-and-arrows, stoves, work horses, sawhorses, axles and axle-grease, axes, cider, carpets, tables, chairs, wares, trees, bees, cheese, etc.

By orders of the TOWN CONSTABLE, Hank Kilheffer, Pythagoras Pod, Auctioneer.

The dodgers were speedily printed and circulated in all directions--sown broadcast, as it were--and, it being a windy day, they flew like scudding snow-flakes over every farm for miles around.

A great throng a.s.sembled to witness the extraordinary event, and to take advantage of bargains with the traveler-auctioneer, who, mounted on a pile of wood, with plug hat in hand, yelled at the top of his voice and finally disposed of the rubbish. The art of auctioneering seemed to come to me by inspiration, and the enthusiastic farmers and towns-people swarmed around me, eager to secure a trophy of the notable sale.

"Three superb harrows are now to be sold, and will be sold, if I have to buy them myself--seventy-two tooth, thirty-six tooth and false tooth harrows; harrows with wisdom teeth, eye teeth and grinders, will grind up the soil and corn-stubble in a harrowing manner, and cultivate the acquaintance of the earth better than any other kinds made. How much am I offered?" As I yelled, I felt that I had strained my voice.

"One dollar," called a granger to set the ball rolling.

"One dollar, one dollar, one dollar--going one dollar--gone one dollar--to the bow-legged gentleman over there, with albino eyebrows"--"THIS WAY, SIR!" I shouted. "Constable, please take his name, and chain him to the wood pile."

In this manner it didn't take me long to dispose of the farm, including the soil four thousand miles deep, and the air forty-five miles high. I finished the ordeal by noon, was paid my fee, and then discourteously told that I had realized several hundred dollars less from the sale than the constable himself could have done. Still every purchaser admitted he was more than satisfied with my generous conduct, shook my hand, bought a chromo and expressed the desire to meet me again. And that was a thing that does not happen always in connection with vendues.

CHAPTER XII.

I do love these ancient ruins.

We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history.

--_d.u.c.h.ess of Malfy._

I did not tarry long in Girard, but spent the night in West Springfield. Thursday morning I escaped from the Keystone into the Buckeye State, eating dinner in Conneaut. As the sleighing had disappeared, I shipped my little sled home, as a relic of the trip, and packed my grip in the saddle, as of old.

After a short rest in Ashtabula, we climbed a hill by the South Ridge road, where I got a fine view of the city, and soon lost ourselves in the darkness.

Presently a farmer drove up in a rickety wagon and began to coax me to accept of his hospitality for the night. He deftly explained that he would care for me and my animals until after breakfast for fifty cents.

I decided to avail myself of the invitation, and Mac congratulated me on my display of good sense. I, too, slapped myself on the shoulder; I was ready to sup and go right to bed. In a short time both donk and dog were comfortably stabled, and I was introduced to the family. The noises from the lighted kitchen had faintly intimated to me the sort of den into which I was allured. It contained the noisiest lot of children that ever blessed a household.

"Are these all yours?" I inquired, politely.

"Nope," answered Mr. Cornbin. "Ye see, this 'ere's sort of a half-way house;" the man smiled, and poked some cheap tobacco into his corn-cob pipe. "There's goin' to be a dance down to Plimton's to-night and all our friends from around 've fetched in their babies for George Buck--he's our hired man--to take care of. Like to dance, eh? Better go 'long--fine women going ter be there--here's plug, if ye want a chew--no? That's smokin' terbaccer on the table by yer. We're plain folks, but you're welcome to the best we've got."

Mrs. C. prepared me a supper which went right to the spot. She advised me to go to the dance, by all means. I had made up my mind to that as soon as the word "dance" was mentioned; the "kids"

would have driven me crazy in short order, had I remained with Buck.

One by one the mothers of the hilarious "brats" came in; then we all got our wraps on. I expected, of course, we were going to ride, but no, the whole party walked. My hostess took her own babe with her. She would leave the hired man in charge of her neighbors' children, but was too wise to entrust her own child with him and the lamp.

When we reached our destination I was introduced to four grangers playing "seven up," and told to make myself comfortable. "Choose your woman, Professor," said Mr. Cornbin, "an' show 'em how you kin manage yer feet on a waxed floor."

Sure enough, the floor was waxed. The garret was converted into a veritable ball-room. Two rows of upright scantling crossed in the center of the room and propped the snow-laden roof, and through these uprights, some twenty inches apart, glided the blue jeans and overalls, calico and cambric skirts, with as much energy and pride as might be squeezed out of a city cotillion. The fiddlers and caller were mounted on a board platform at one end of the "hall." They sawed away and shouted, and wore out more enthusiasm, catgut and shoe-leather than I ever saw wasted in the same length of time.

There were all sorts of dances and dancers. I myself tackled the Virginia reel, Lancers, Quadrille, Caledonia, Polka, Hornpipe, Mazourka, a Spanish dance, the Irish Washwoman, and several others. The favorite music was "p.u.s.s.y in the Rainbarrel;" it served for a half dozen different dances. I never liked the music--a sort of windpipe or bagpipe which allowed no breathing-spell from start to finish. In my second dance I went off my feet, my head caught under the sloping roof, and the floor master had to knock my "pins" from under me to get me loose.

There was one pretty girl there, and I tried to engage her for a dance, but every time I approached her she shied away; at last, she got used to my odd appearance, and allowed me to clasp her to my bosom in a waltz. Just as we got started, the dance closed, and the caller shouted to choose partners for a square dance. My pretty partner agreed to dance it with me; I could see several of her admirers looking "daggers" at me.

"Forward; right and left!" sounded the call. "Lead yer partners round the outside!"

I thought the caller meant the outside of the house, and started down stairs, but was soon stopped, and the call explained to me.

"Alaman left!--grand right and left!--half way and back--change partners, and four ladies salute!--balance again and swing the opposite lady!"

That succession of calls completely demoralized me. I got all mixed up, and soon found myself clasping an upright instead of somebody's partner, and concluded my part by violently sitting on the floor. After that I contented myself with looking on.

Although the two prettiest features of the ball--the Minuette and the St. Vitus Dance--had not yet taken place, I felt more than satisfied, and bidding my friends good morning, set out for the Cornbin domicile.

After a late breakfast of tea, bread, salt pork and fried potatoes, I started for Geneva.

All through New York State people had supposed on seeing me that "Uncle Tom's Cabin" had "busted," and that Marks, the lawyer, was homeward bound with his mule. In Ohio, the curious countrymen inquired if I was on my way to join Maine's Circus, at its winter quarters, Geneva. Mac, as well as I, was quite sensitive over these inquiries. Through the driving snow-storm we managed to reach a hotel where, after a noon meal, I led my animals on to Madison.

When a half mile yet to the village we pa.s.sed the Old Woman's Home, which I visited the following morning, Sunday. The man who planned it was a genius. The rooms of the commodious building were fitted up to suit the whims of the most fastidious fossils of second childhood. Paintings and plaster bas-reliefs of old women knitting, washing false teeth, and sewing, decorated the walls.

Sewing baskets, crazy quilts, dolls, and paper soldiers were strewn about the rooms. The most novel of all departments was the dental and hirsute Check Room, where the old ladies checked their false teeth, wigs, cork legs, etc., when they happened in disuse.

A little bra.s.s ring containing a number is given the owner of the article to be checked, so that it may be preserved in good condition, and not get lost. Incidents are cited where very old women, during intervals of temporary aberration, have got their checks mixed and tried to wear an extra set of teeth, or an additional wig; and it is said that once a woman with two normal legs endeavored to hook on a cork leg. But when we consider the great age of the inmates, such cases are quite pardonable.

From the next town, Painesville, we went to the home of President Garfield. Mr. R----, who had the care of the handsome residence, invited me in to rest, and sup. I was shown all of the beautiful and interesting rooms. In the s.p.a.cious hall hung a large photograph of Milan Cathedral, and in the upstairs hall, a portrait of Washington and an engraving of Lincoln. In the General's favorite study, I was permitted to sit in the large easy chairs where he had found comfort after his mental labors and inspiration for his speeches and debates, and regarded the bric-a-brac and furniture with more awe and reverence than I had ever felt upon visiting the homes of the great.

Two miles beyond Mentor is Kirtland, once a thriving Mormon camp.

It is situated at considerable distance from the direct route to Cleveland, and it took us over a distressingly muddy road, and through such intense darkness that I soon lost my bearings. Seeing the gleam of a lamp in a window, I went up to the house to inquire the way to the tavern. The owner insisted on our being his guests, and I felt very grateful. My animals were a.s.signed to a shed, and I was invited to a hot supper, which my good hostess hastily prepared.

I soon discovered that I was among spiritualists, as well as Latter Day Saints. My Host, Mr. J----, was an elderly man, and well informed. He said much about Joseph Smith. He himself was born in Kirtland some eighty years back, and had often listened to the preachings of the founder of Mormonism. In those days Kirtland contained about 2,000 inhabitants; but all that remained of the town are two stores, a shop, and a dozen or so little houses, half of which I found to be occupied by itinerant preachers of the "Latter Day Saints."

My host said he firmly believed in Spiritualism, and dwelt at length on communication between the material and spiritual world.

Finally he strode to my chair and felt of my cranium.

"Why Prof.," said he enthusiastically, "you are a medium yourself.

All you require is a little study of the science. Spiritualism is merely the science of materialism." I shivered audibly.

"And do you mean to tell me," I said, "that you believe honestly you can see the ghost, or the spirit of the departed?"

"I know it," Mr. J---- returned, emphatically. "I have FELT the spirit of the departed. One night at a seance I saw my little step-daughter who had been dead many years. I heard her call to me "papa." She put her arms round my neck, and kissed me on the lips.

Then she disappeared. Of course, I know it! I saw her, I heard her, I felt her; isn't that proof enough?"