University of Virginia Library

LETTER XVI.

To Mr. Thompson:—Dear Sir—I could slep sound
as a rock in a shuck-pen, after havin been nockin
about all day, and havin my mind constantly on the
stretch to take in the wonders I seed in Yankeedoodle-dum.
But in sich a airy room, and sich a soft, cool,
clean bed as they gin me at the Merrymack House, I
could have gone to sleep with the tooth-ache, and never
waked up til Christmas, if it hadn't been for Hooper,
who was termined to see the galls gwine to work in the
mornin.

I was dreamin about bein in Mahomet's Heaven
among the Houries. Ther was more'n ten thousand
of 'em, all as butiful as Haydees and Venuses, with
cracker-bonnets on, dancin and caperin about under the
shadowy arches of the trees, from which hung long
festoons of bright flowers, while fountains of crystal
water was gushin up in evry direction, and music
floated in the air that was perfumed with the breth of
roses. Bimeby one of 'em, with butiful eyes and long
golden ringlets, what hung down below the cape of her
bonnet, cum dancin up to me with a hank of cotton
yarn in her hand—

“Cum with me—will you cum with me, my dear?”
ses she, smilin so sweet and wavin her hand at me.

“No, I thank you,” ses I, blushin to think she would
ax me sich a question.

“Say not so, dear,” ses she, cumin closer to me.
“Say not so, dear—you must be mine;” and with that
she begun to undo her hank of cotton.

I soon seed what she was up to, and so I started to
quit the place, but the fust thing I knowd she had the

yarn round my neck, and the next minit 'bout five
hundred of 'em was pullin at me, all singin “Cum
with me, my dear,” like a pasel of sailors a payin
away on a hosser. I pulled and hollered as hard as I
could—I told 'em I was a married man—but they never
let on they heard me, and jest pulled the harder, each
one sayin I 'longed to her.

“Let me go!” ses I, grabbin hold of a tree to hold
on by, and kickin at 'em with both feet at a time; “let
me loose, you everlastin witches, you. I's got a wife
and child to home and can't marry none of you—I
tell you I's a married man!”—

Jest then the hank of cotton broke, and away I went,
and the galls set up one of the loudest squalls I ever
heard.

“What upon yeath's the matter with you, Majer?”
ses Hooper, who was laffin like he had the highstericks.
“Why I never seed a body cut sich anticks
before in all my life. I jest tuck hold of you and
shuck you a little to wake you up, so we mought take
a walk before breckfust, and you begun to kick and
rare like a wild zebra, cussin and swearin about being
a married man, like that had any thing to do with gettin
up early in the mornin.

“And was it you that had a hold of my neck,” ses
I, beginnin to see how it was.

“I jest shuck you a little,” ses he.

“Well, if I didn't think—” ses I.

“What was you dreamin, Majer?” ses he.

But I know'd it wouldn't do to tell Hooper what I
was dreamin, if I ever wanted to hear the eend of it.
So I jest got up and put on my clothes as quick as
possible, and went with Hooper to see the galls gwine
to work.

The sun was jest up when we went down on to the
corporashuns, as they call 'em here, whar the mills is.
It was a most lovely mornin. The factorys was all
still. The yards in frunt of the bildins was clean, and

the little flower-gardens by the dores was glitterin with
due, as the fust bees of the mornin cum to suck the
honey from the blossums. Ther wasn't many peeple
to be seed in the streets. Now and then we could see
sum men gwine to the countin-rooms and offices, or to
the factorys, but the cracker-bonnets was in eclipse.
The galls was at breckfust at ther boardin-houses,
which are neat two, and sumtimes three-story brick
houses, what stand in blocks near the factorys, and is
owned by the proprietors of the mills.

Bimeby the bells rung. In a minit more the streets
leadin to the mills was swarmin with galls. Here they
cum in evry direction, laughin and talkin to one another
in groops and by pairs, or singly, all lookin as merry
and happy as if they was gwine to a frollic, insted of to
ther work.

Wimmin look well by moolight, and so they do by
early sunlight. The refreshin influence of sleep gives
a brightness and animation to the featurs of a healthy
young gall, who has been fatigued by the labors of the
day, and the mornin ablooshuns, as Mr. Willis calls
washin one's face, like the due on the roses, gives
freshness to ther cheeks and brilliancy to ther eyes.
You may depend thar was sum bright mornin faces in
that crowd. I thought of my dream, and I 'termined
to take warnin by it. I felt if I was a bachellor it
wouldn't be safe to go within the length of a skein of
cotton yarn of sum of 'em, and it wouldn't take a very
strong or a very hard twisted thread to hold me in the
traces.

They poured into the mills by thousands, like bees
into a hive, and in a few minits more the noise of the
machinery begun to git louder and louder, until each
factory sent out a buzzing sound, with which all other
sounds soon becum mixed up, until it seemed we was
into a city whar men, wimmin and children, water, fire,
and light, was all at work, and whar the very air
breathed the song of industry.

After breckfust we went to one of the mills, whar
we got a little boy to show us the way. The little
feller tuck us from one room to another all over the
mill, and sich other contraptions I never seed before.
The machinery made sich a noise that we couldn't hear
ourselves think, let alone sayin any thing to one another,
and then we was so cumpletely dumfounded by what
we seed, that we couldn't found a word to say even
if we could heard one another talk. Thar was the
galls tendin the looms and the spindles, mixed all up
among the cranks and wheels, and drum-heds and
crossbands, and iron fixins, that was all agwine like
lightnin, and ther little white hands flyin about like
they was a part of the machinery. Bissy as they was,
though, they found time now and then to steal a sly
glance at us, and then I could see a mischievous smile
playin round sum of ther pretty mouths, as much as to
say, what green fellers we was that never seed a
cotton-mill before. I tried to git the hang of sum of
the machinery, but it wasn't no use. Evrything I
seed, from the ceilin to the floor, was whirlin, and
whizzin, and rattlin, and dashin, as if it would tear
evry thing to pieces; but what they was doin or
what sot 'em agwine, was more'n I could make out.
Buzz-z-z-z, went the spindles and the spools; clank-clank,
went the looms, and the white cloth was rollin
off in big bolts, but how it was done, was what I
couldn't see into.

After gwine through three or four of the mills,
which was all pretty much alike, we went into one
whar they print calicos. This part of the bisness ain't
the nicest work in the world, though it's very interestin.
We went into the dryin-room as they call it, but we
didn't stay thar but a very short time. If the other
country is much hotter than this dryin-room, it is not
much misrepresented in the accounts we have of it.
When I stepped in I felt the hot air, as I breathed it

into my lungs, like boilin water, and my hair crisped
up like I was in a bake-oven. Hooper, who, you
know, takes a good deal of pains with his whiskers,
dassent risk 'em in the dryin-room more'n a minit;
and when we got out I felt jest like I'd cum out of a
steam-bath.

The next place we went to was the whip manufactory,
whar we seed a cover braided onto a whipstalk,
by machinery, in about two minits. From thar
we went to another place, whar they made cotton and
woollen cards. That machine banged any thing I ever
seed in all my life. I've always thought that a machine
that could make any thing as well as it could be
made with hands was pretty considerable of a machine.
But to see a little iron contraption take a piece of
lether and a coil of wire, and cut off the wire and
bend it double, punch the holes in the lether, put the
wire in the holes, push 'em in and bend 'em, and
fasten 'em thar quicker and better than five men could
do it, went a little ahed of any thing I ever heard or
dreamed of. The man that invented that machine
could invent one to eat shad without swallerin the
bones, or one that could pick a man's pocket when
he was wide awake, without gettin found out. The
only wonder is, that he didn't invent sum way to
fool Old Deth himself, and live for ever. But the
poor man is ded, and, like all men of genius, died
very poor.

The next place we went into was a machine carpenter's
shop, whar the rough boards cum into one
dore in a cart and went out at the other in panel-dores,
winder-sashes, pine boxes, &c. Saws and plainers
and chissels and awgers was sawin, plainin, chisselin,
and borin in evry direction by machinery, with men to
tend 'em; and for one that wasn't acquainted with the
bearins of the place, it was necessary to keep a pretty
sharp look-out to prevent havin a shavin tuck off of
him sumwhar, or to keep from bein dove-tailed, or

havin a awger-hole put rite through him fore he know'd
what hurt him. It was most dinner-time, and we
didn't stay thar long.

At the Merrymack House we had one of the finest
dinners I ever eat in my life. But the dish what
tuck my fancy most, was a fine biled Merrymack
salmon. What a pity salmons don't grow on pine
trees—then we could have 'em in Georgia; but as that
can't be, I would advise you, if ever you cum this
way in pea-time, to stop at the Merrymack House.
Here they git 'em rite out of the water, and if a dish
of Merrymack salmon and green peas wouldn't bring a
ded man to life, then he may be buried with perfect
safety. After the desert we had fruit, and among
other things sum of the finest ox-hart cherries. They
wer monstrous good, and if the man counted the
seeds on my plate, he knows I done 'em justice.
Hooper loved 'em too. We sot thar sum time eatin
cherries and talkin 'bout the factory galls and the
machinery.

“Ain't it a pity,” sed Hooper, “that these galls is
Yankees. If it wasn't for that,” ses he—

“Well, that's a fact,” ses I. “But you oughtn't to
mind that, Hooper.”

“Ah, Majer,” ses he, “it wouldn't do. But I did
see one gall thar that—”

“Stole your hart,” ses I; for I know'd he was very
sceptible of the tender passion, and I had hard work to
git him out of one room in the Boot Mills.

“No, not 'zactly, Majer; but to tell you the truth, I
couldn't keep my eyes of that tall, dark-complexioned
gall what was tendin the starchin-machine—the one
what was readin in a book. Ther was sumthing so
winnin, so amiable, and yet so dignified about that gall,
that I shall never forgit her. But she's a Yankee, and
maybe a ravin abolitionist.”

“Well, Hooper,” ses I, to change the subject what

was beginnin to make him serious, “if I was a woodpecker
I'd cum to this country every summer, jest to eat
cherries—they're so good.”

“Well, if I was a woodpecker I wouldn't do no
sich thing!” ses Hooper.

“Why not?” ses I.

“Why, because these everlastin Yankees would be
certain to invent sum cussed machine to ketch me.”

Ther was sumthing in that, and I had no more to
say.

In the evenin we tuck a walk to look at the town.
Passin by a book-store, we went in to git sumthing to
read. The old gentleman what keeps the store show'd
us sum numbers of the “Lowell Offering,” what he
sed was made up of the writins of the factory galls.
Hooper sed he'd bet that gall he seed readin in the
mills was one of the writers, and he told the man to
let him have all the numbers. Hearin us say we
would like to see sum of the writers, Mr. Davis, who
is a monstrous clever, obligin man, sed he would be
very happy to interduce us to sum of 'em. We tuck
him at his word, and in a few minits more he show'd
us into a neat little parlor, whar we was soon made
acquainted with Miss Harriet F—, the editor of the
Offering, and her mother. Miss F— promised Mr.
Davis to take good care of us, and to see that none
of the Lowell galls stole our harts, and he went back
to his store. We spent a ower in very agreeable
chat with Miss F—, who is a true specimen of a
New England gall. She has worked in the mills
for several years, but now devotes herself to the
magazine what she edits, supportin her mother by
her own industry. After awhile she proposed to
interduce us to sum more of the literary factory galls,
and takin my arm, she carried us through several of
the mills, and interduced us to the galls who was at
ther work.

As we was passin the great machine carpet factory,
she ax'd us if we had seed 'em weavin carpets on the
power-looms. We told her no—that we went thar in
the day, but they wouldn't let us in.

“Oh!” sed she, “they didn't know you was Southerners,
or they wouldn't been 'fraid of your stealin ther
patent.”

I didn't know zactly whether she meant that as a compliment
or not.

We went to the office, and ses Miss F—:

“Mr. Peters, here's a couple of Southern frends of
mine, what wants to see the carpet-looms.”

“Well, but, Miss F—,” ses he, “you know its
entirely agin the rules for anybody to be admitted to
see the machinery.”

“Yes; but,” ses she, “I don't care for the rules—
these gentlemen are all the way from Georgia, and they
must see the looms.”

“But—” ses the old man.

“I don't care,” ses she; “I'll be answerable for all
the damage.”

“Well,” ses Mr. Peters, “you can go into that
room, (pintin to a dore,) and when you're in the packin-room,
I guess you can find the way into the looms
without my lettin you in.”

That was sufficient, and in we went. I ax'd Miss
F— if that man wasn't a Yankee inventor.

“O, no,” ses she; “he's only a ordinary genius in
these parts.”

The carpet-looms is a grate specimen of American
ingenuity, bein the only power-looms for weavin carpetin
in the world; but my hed was so full of wonders
that I had seen durin the day, that I hadn't no room
for the carpet-looms. Besides, they is such thunderin
grate big, smashin iron things, and go at such a terrible
rate, that I expected evry minit to git my branes
necked out by 'em.

After takin a look at 'em for a few minits, we went
out, and visited sum more of the literati. Miss F—
interduced me to Miss Lucy L—, the author of
“The Wasted Flowers,” one of the prettyest little allegorys
in the English language; and which Judge
Charlton, of Georgia, and several other popular
poets, has tried ther hands on without bein able to
improve it a bit. Miss L— was in the packin-room
of one of the mills, as clerk, checkin off the goods as
they were bein put up into bales. She had worked in
the mills several years. I never met with a more
interestin young lady, though I spose she wouldn't
thank me for callin her a lady, as she gin me her autograf
in a very different spirit. It reads—

“Sir—I have the honor to be, yours, very respectfully,
a bona-fide factory girl,

We found the place still more attractive as our
acquaintance extended, and I begun to fear that
Hooper would never be willin to quit Lowell. We
tuck tea that evenin with Miss F—, and afterwards
called on several of our new acqaintances, who, with
a party of ther frends, tuck a walk with us on the
banks of the Merrymack. Hooper's symptoms was
gettin worse and worse every hour, and I was 'fraid
to risk him another moonlight night with the factory
galls, for fear he mought meet the fate as a man
what he would be 'fraid of as a woodpecker. So we
bid 'em all good-by, when we parted with 'em for
our hotel.

We was off early in the mornin for Boston, whar we
spent a few hours til the cars started for New York.
I won't stop to tell you 'bout our trip—what a race we
had with another steambote, and how we like to got
blowd to Ballyhack gwine round Pint Judy, and how

one man lost his bran-new hat overboard, and the
captain wouldn't stop for it. Sufficient that we arriv
safe in this city, though I ain't rite certain that Hooper
didn't leave his hart in the Boot Mills. No more from