every
house and store pours out a human contribution, and all in a twinkling
the dead town is alive and moving. Drays, carts, men, boys, all go
hurrying from many quarters to a common center, the wharf. Assembled
there, the people fasten their eyes upon the coming boat as upon a
wonder they are seeing for the first time. And the boat IS rather a
handsome sight, too. She is long and sharp and trim and pretty; she has
two tall, fancy-topped chimneys, with a gilded device of some kind swung
between them; a fanciful pilot-house, a glass and 'gingerbread', perched
on top of the 'texas' deck behind them; the paddle-boxes are gorgeous
with a picture or with gilded rays above the boat's name; the boiler
deck, the hurricane deck, and the texas deck are fenced and ornamented
with clean white railings; there is a flag gallantly flying from the
jack-staff; the furnace doors are open and the fires glaring bravely;
the upper decks are black with passengers; the captain stands by the
big bell, calm, imposing, the envy of all; great volumes of the blackest
smoke are rolling and tumbling out of the chimneys--a husbanded grandeur
created with a bit of pitch pine just before arriving at a town; the
crew are grouped on the forecastle; the broad stage is run far out over
the port bow, and an envied deckhand stands picturesquely on the end of
it with a coil of rope in his hand; the pent steam is screaming through
the gauge-cocks, the captain lifts his hand, a bell rings, the wheels
stop; then they turn back, churning the water to foam, and the steamer
is at rest. Then such a scramble as there is to get aboard, and to get
ashore, and to take in freight and to discharge freight, all at one and
the same time; and such a yelling and cursing as the mates facilitate it
all with! Ten minutes later the steamer is under way again, with no flag
on the jack-staff and no black smoke issuing from the chimneys. After
ten more minutes the town is dead again, and the town drunkard asleep by
the skids once more.

My father was a justice of the peace, and I supposed he possessed
the power of life and death over all men and could hang anybody that
offended him. This was distinction enough for me as a general thing; but
the desire to be a steamboatman kept intruding, nevertheless. I first
wanted to be a cabin-boy, so that I could come out with a white apron
on and shake a tablecloth over the side, where all my old comrades could
see me; later I thought I would