Stephen H. Branch's Alligator, Vol. 1 no. 13, July 17, 1858 — A Reader’s Guide

ose, but it came from one who bore the form and garb of a lady, and we had to swallow it without a murmur. Ex-Governor Earle came from Pawtucket on the wings of lightning, and told us it would be instant death for us to enter Pawtucket without more men, but, much to my regret, our Captain ordered us to follow him into the town, whose streets were crowded with desperate outlaws, who were hooting and hurling stones and fragments of iron at the Kentish Guards, who were literally surrounded by the mob. When Captain Allen saw our Company approach, he instantly arrayed us against the insurgents for fatal action, and, taking out his watch, told the beligerent thousands present, that if they did not disperse in ten minutes, he would fire upon them. I suffered more in these ten minutes, than in all my life, because I feared the rascals wouldn’t go, and we would have to fire at them. I had the dyspepsia most horribly, and had all my pockets stuffed with chunks of Graham bread, for a warrior’s rations, and was reduced to an utter skeleton, and could hardly hold my heavy musket perpendicularly, and my bones fairly rattled when the bloody words of Captain Allen fell upon my ears. I had never fired a gun but once, and that was at a snake at Topsfield, Massachusetts, and although the muzzle was within an inch of his head, the ball passed into the ground, and the snake fled before I could reload my gun. And yet I feared I might shed human blood, and perhaps kill one or more, if Captain Allen ordered my Company to fire at the Dorrites. And I was very sure I would fall like a dead man, from the effect upon my dyspeptic nerves of fright and thundering noise caused by the simultaneous discharge of one hundred muskets. And I actually envied the rebels who could escape from peril, while I could not, as I had a gun, cap and knapsack, and was hemmed in by my comrades. I could not exchange my clothes, and was closely watched by the insurgents, and if I left the ranks, I might be shot by my own companions in arms, and if I escaped their fire, the insurgents themselves might instantly dispatch me. The fatal ten minutes had nearly expired, and I supposed my time had come, as I felt sure if we fired, that two thousand ruffians would rush upon us, and hack us to bleeding fragments. I looked up to the brilliant stars, but with all their cheerfulness and fascination, I feared to have my soul approach their glittering realms. I looked down upon the green earth, and I desired not an eternal abode for my butchered carcase below its fragrant surface. To kill a man I thought would be horrible, and forever cause unpleasant dreams. But to be killed myself, by the enemy, seemed still more horrible. And I resolved to put nothing but powder in my gun, so that I could not kill or wound the Dorrites. I regretted that I could not slyly tell them of my humane resolves, so that they could evince similar clemency towards me, when we came together hand to hand, and foot to foot, and nails to nails, and nose to nose, and belly to belly, and teeth to teeth. The ten minutes elapsed, and the rebels remained and yelled and stoned and defied us. Captain Allen passed along the line, and told us we had got bloody work before us, and besought us to be firm, and reload our muskets quickly, and fire at the hearts of our adversaries, and we would conquer them, although they numbered thousands, and we only hundreds. I came near falling at this intelligence, and leaned very heavily against the soldiers on either side of me, who threatened to shoot me if I didn’t stand straighter, which straightened me mighty quick. Captain Allen spoke of American patriotism, and our duty to our native State, and to the United States, and of the valor of Green and Perry, but I scarcely heard what he said, as my terrified mind was contemplating the horrors of an instant and bloody doom, and my gloomy prospects beyond the grave. Captain Allen takes out his watch, and draws his sword, and I look towards Heaven, and engage in a most solemn silent prayer, as I now expect to die in about five minutes.

(To be continued to my last gun.)

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A Primary Election at Peter Cooper’s Funny Little Grocery-Groggery, at the corner of the Bowery and Stuyversant Street, in 1820.

HALF AN HOUR BEFORE DAYLIGHT.

_Peter_—Well, Jack, where are all the boys you promised me?