University of Virginia Library

A ROLLICKING DRAGOON OFFICER.

In the summer of 1834, the Dragoons went to the
Pawnee Villages. In the fall, three companies under
the command of Col. Kearney, came to the Des Moines
Rapids, on the Mississippi, and wintered there in some
log huts. There was a Captain B., a very tall man,
six feet seven inches, (just three inches over me, and
I think I am "some,") with very large black whiskers,
a fine looking man—I wonder what has become of
him? I heard that he had resigned, and settled somewhere
in Iowa; he must be in Congress before this
time. The captain used to boast that he could pack a
gallon without its setting him back any. Sometime
during the winter of '34 or '35, Col. Kearney ordered
Capt. B. to repair to Rushville, Illinois, distant some
sixty miles, on recruiting service. The river was
closed with ice, but had the appearance of breaking up
every day. There was no ferry for conveying horses

at Des Moines, but there was one ten miles above,
where a man by the name of Knapp kept a small store
for the sale of dry goods and whisky. The captain
repaired to Knapp's, and waited two or three days
for the river either to freeze harder or break up; on
the third morning there was no change in the river—
the captain commenced early, and by nine o'clock
was packing about a gallon. He ordered his horse,
put his pistols in the holsters, buckled on his sword,
mounted his horse, (which was a very fine one, and
devilish fast for a mile,) braced himself in the stirrups,
turned his horse's head for the river, and took a long
look at it. Without saying a word to anybody, he
gave his horse the spurs, dashed down the bank, on
the ice, and crossed the river at a "quarter lick"
speed. Knapp stood thunderstruck looking after him
—he said he expected to see B. and the horse disappear
at every jump, but they arrived safe at the other
bank.

"Good Lord!" said Knapp, "I could have taken a
pole and punched holes in the ice anywhere!"

"Did he look back"—I inquired—"when he reached
the other side?"

"No," said Knapp, "he went up the opposite bank
at the same lick, and disappeared!"

The captain arrived safe at Rushville, where he
remained for several weeks, and returned without a
man. He told me of some of his adventures at Rushville.
He went into his favourite grocery or drinking-house,
one very cold morning, and found a crowd
sitting round the fire; so close were they wedged in
that there was no room for another chair, if there had

been one in the room. No one moved—no one offered
the captain a seat. The fact is, the captain had a
way of making himself unpopular with such crowds:
he had an unpleasant way of using his fists when he
got about a gallon on board. An old lady who lived
near Des Moines, requested me to look at her husband;
he was in bed; where he had been for three weeks;
he was a justice of the peace, and the captain called
him Chief Justice T. He said he and the captain were
drinking together, and after they had become very
sociable, he called him B. without the captain, and the
next moment he was knocked into the middle of the
next three weeks!

The captain had been pursuing something of the
same practice at Rushville, consequently no one offered
him a seat.

The captain had been a great deal about this
grocery, and knew what was in every barrel, box, and
keg in it. He took a good look at the crowd, and
finding he was not to have a seat, he walked behind the
counter, and picked up a keg marked "Dupont."
He walked to the fire and threw it in, remarking—
"Eternally — my soul," [his favourite oath,]
"gentlemen, if I don't think we have lived long
enough!"

"Did they run?" I inquired.

"Run!" said he—"I never saw `ground and lofty
tumbling' before! They just threw themselves over
backwards, and all left the house on their all-fours,
some back end first, and they went in that way clear
across the street!"

Hearing no explosion, they after a while ventured

back, and peeped in; there sat B., with a glass of
something enjoying himself, the keg standing in one
corner by him—(the keg contained madder instead of
powder.) Long as the captain remained in Rushville,
he had the grocery all to himself.

I wonder what has become of him? If he has not
fatigued himself to death, packing a gallon at a time,
he's in Congress sure.