University of Virginia Library

MY AUNT BETSY.

It is wonderful how little the mother, father,
and kindest relative of a child, understand his
sensibilities and character, and how often they do
violence to his feelings by a disregard of that
public opinion which, of its kind, prevails among
children as much as it does among men. The boy
is as sensitive to ridicule as the man—more so;
and he suffers just as much from being laughed at
among his companions as the man does among his.
How often a child has been compelled to wear a
hat, cap, trowsers, or shoes of some ungainly cut,
when they might just as well have been made after
the fashion of his fellows; which has not only subjected
him to ridicule, but given him a nickname,
which made him a laughing-stock through life; and
which was, perhaps, the first thing that led him to
undervalue his own capacity and character, and to
consort with those below him, who were the gradation

to a still lower grade, when he should have
directed his pride to the emulation of those who, as
the world goes, are held above him.

A recollection of my Aunt Betsy draws from me
these remarks. Each and every Sunday it was her
custom to repair, with a precise housekeeper of a
gentleman with whom we boarded, to Baltimore to
church. We were spending the summer months in
the country. She was a rigid Presbyterian, and
was fond of doctrinal points; and to the ministry
of the Rev. William Duncan, who then was of the
old side, she delighted to devote herself. I know
not whether that minister's more liberal opinions,
which he teaches now, would be subscribed to by
her, but I think not. The only place of worship
in our country neighborhood was a Methodist
meeting; the latitudinarian principles of that sect
she could not sanction; for latitudinarians she was
pleased to call them.

Our host, Mr. Stetson, was the owner of an old,
shabby, shackling gig, which set low between the
shafts, on wooden springs, with an old cloth top,
and rattling wheels. To this vehicle, an old family
horse, named Samson, halt, and nearly blind, was
harnessed, and, thus conveyed, my Aunt Betsy and
Miss Dalrymple rode to church. They might have
ridden to Jericho if they had left me behind them;
but, no, a stool was duly placed for me each Sabbath
in the bottom of the gig, and on this, nolens

volens, supported between the knees of my veteran
aunt, to prevent my tumbling out, was I seated in
front, with the bandbox beside me. My shoulders
served to support the reins, which my aunt held far
apart, one in each hand. Whenever Samson lagged
in his gait, no whip was used, but the reins
were flapped up and down on his back, and consequently
on my shoulders.

Meanwhile, my respectable relation, with her
spectacles on her nose, kept a sharp look-out for
the stones and ruts; cautioning Miss Dalrymple to
do likewise, and finding most unchristian fault with
her whenever we received a jolt, if she did not receive
notice.

“Miss Betsy, there's a stone,” exclaimed Miss
Dalrymple.

“Where, where!” exclaimed my aunt.

And before she received the intelligence as to
which side it was, up went the wheel; my aunt
screamed; but we righted again, though with a
bounce that nearly caused the dissolution of the
vehicle.

“Bless my soul! why could you not tell me on
what side at once, Miss Dalrymple?” exclaimed
my aunt, adjusting her spectacles.

“I couldn't think quick enough,” was the
reply.

“Think quick enough! Madam, you can see beyond
your nose, can't you? Old as I am, I can;

but I can't see on both sides at once; do look sharp
on your side, and I'll look sharp on mine. Willy,
look ahead, for mercy's sake!”

The mortification I then experienced of being
seen by my playmates in this condition, brings a
blush to my cheek now.

My Aunt Betsy had a house in town, which she
rented out during our summer sojourn in the
country, but she reserved the privilege of putting
the gig under the shed in the backyard, while we
went to church; a narrow, steep alley (I forget
the name of it) led to the back gate.

Arrived there, Miss Dalrymple would descend
and open the gate, and my aunt would drive in;
unless my aunt's tenant, who had an eye to the
quarter day, and the indulgence he then sometimes
required, bustled out, opened the gate, and let us
in full dignity through. Then he would officiously
conduct us into the house, leading me with one
hand and carrying the bandbox in the other. For
my aunt held also another privilege, by tacit consent,
that of preparing the extras of her toilet in
Mrs. Titlum's back parlor, the wife of Mr. Titlum,
her tenant.

Then the bandbox was opened, her false hair
and cap fixed primly on, and with care, though
the church bells had ceased ringing. All ready at
last, these worthies sallied out, stately as Juno's

bird, between them leading your humble servant
to the tabernacle.

This day of my eventful story my aunt had been
more than gratified by Mr. Duncan's exposition.
She came forth, leading me by the hand, as if she
thought that she herself was entitled to some credit
for the sermon, because it expressed her opinions
so fully, and she had such firm faith in it. Miss
Dalrymple, who, in some respects, was inclined to
doubt certain of the divine's views on previous occasions,
was glanced at triumphantly; she looked
meek and mad accordingly. In this Christian
frame of mind we reached Titlum's.

The quarter day was near, and while my aunt
changed her cap and hair, Titlum got the gig in
readiness. We were soon seated in it under the
shed, Miss Dalrymple and my aunt, the bandbox
and myself. Titlum led Samson through the gate,
headed him right, and so we started fairly.

It was an alley just back of Calvert street (I
forget, as I have said, the name of it, though I
think it is “Grant street,” giving the name of
street to an alley, like many other streets and
persons taking a higher style than they deserve);
through this we emerged, taking our way along
Market, now Baltimore street, with the intention of
passing through Calvert street by Barnum's, into
Monument Square.

That day, with masonic and military honors, one

of the soldiers of the fifth regiment, who fought
bravely at North Point, was to be buried, and the
military were parading in the square. My aunt
had scarcely turned Samson into Market street,
when the music burst upon her ear, and, ejaculating
“Heaven preserve us!” she tried to turn
Samson round, but Samson would not be turned
round.

“I should not be surprised,” exclaimed my
aunt, “if this abominable violation of the Sabbath
should cost us all our lives. To have trumpets
sounding and see colors flying on the Lord's day,
and we the innocent to suffer—my gracious!”

My aunt seemed like Othello in his agony,
“perplexed in the extreme.”

“Boy, boy,” she called out to a black boy on
the pavement, “come and turn my horse's head
round.”

“What'll you give me, old 'oman?”

“Old woman! why don't he say lady? I'll give
you a fippenny-bit.”

My aunt was economical.

“I axes a quarter,” replied he dictatorially.

“A quarter! bless me, this was not collection
day, and I didn't bring any money. Miss Dalrymple,
did you?”

Miss Dalrymple replied in the negative. My
aunt said to the black fellow, after this short colloquy—

“Well, my good boy, you shall have a quarter
of a dollar—when—”

“Shell out, old one,” he repeated.

“I have not any change now, my boy. I'll pay
you the next time we meet,” replied my aunt.

“Do you see anything green here?” said the
negro, shutting his right eye and pulling down the
lower lid of the left one, until the whole of the
white of it was exhibited. He stood a moment, as
if to give my respectable relative a chance of full
inspection, and then coolly walked off, saying,
“There ain't nothing green about this child, old
one.”

“I protest,” exclaimed my aunt, “if that boy
belonged to me, he should have a severe whipping
to-morrow morning early. I should almost be
tempted to give it to him to-day, though it is Sunday.”

But the boy didn't belong to my aunt, so he
walked off haw-hawing, with contempt, like one
who has detected an impostor in the act of defrauding
him.

“Sir,” said my aunt to a gentleman who was
passing, “couldn't you turn my horse round, if you
please?”

But no, the gentleman seemed to think with the
negro, that my aunt was not respectable enough to
receive that attention. If she had been a damsel
fair, who had been left for a needful moment by

her Jehu, the gentleman would have complied with
most courteous alacrity, but an old woman, who
had come out to take the responsibility of her own
safe conveyance, let her take it; and the gentleman
walked on. My aunt now applied her own
energies to Samson. She succeeded in turning
him nearly round, when she heard the noise of fife
and drum, and, looking forth, discovered another
company coming to join those already in the
square. Her only chance now was to go straight
out Market street, or to turn down Calvert street.
Samson obeyed the rein quickly, which put him
on his regular routine, but he made an obstinate
stop at the corner of Calvert street, determined to
turn into Monument Square. How my aunt flapped
the reins, declaring that hereafter she would
drive with a whip, and that Miss Dalrymple could
carry it.

The company behind us had now got close on to
Samson; and it was evident that the unusual proceedings
of the day, on the part of my aunt, together
with the noise and bustle, had done much to
ruffle his temper. In depositing coal in the cellar
of the corner house, as you turn down Calvert
street, the proprietor had had a board laid over the
curbstone on to the pavement, to prevent filling
up the gutter, when it was discharged from the
cart; against this Samson backed, as if desirous
of witnessing the display, as the soldiers passed

into Monument Square. Thinking himself perhaps
still in the way, he backed a little, and finding
his progress facilitated by the plank, he politely
gave the soldiers the street, and betook himself to
the sidewalk. His courtesy my aunt neither appreciated
nor approved. Greatly alarmed, she
waved her hand over the ragamuffin train, who
surrounded the band, and called to the musicians
in earnest expostulation:—

“Good people, do stop that noise! Don't you see
what a condition we are in, and you are breaking
the Sabbath?”

What soldier was ever known to regard, when
on duty, the remonstrances of an old woman in a
gig, with another of her sex and a child? No,
though only on parade, they never play soldiers,
and if all the old women and children in the world
were to be killed by frightened horses, that would
not abate their martial sounds.

The crowd of boys, when they beheld Samson,
and the gig, and all the et ceteras, and saw my
aunt's gesture of expostulation, though many of
them could not hear what she said, burst into a
yell of derision. One stout fellow, who was on the
sidewalk, following the band close in the press,
feeling valiant from the martial strains which
rang in his ears, elevated a long lath, which
he carried in his hand by way of soldiership,
and smote Samson prodigiously. This Samson

could not brook; the music had made him martial
too, and it was evident that, like his great namesake
among the Philistines, he was determined on
revenge; for no sooner did the boy strike him,
than he charged at once into the very band of
music. The sound the soldier loves died upon
their ears instantly—and well it might. The fifer
started back in such haste from the advancing
Samson, as to overturn the drummer, who fell
flat with his drum-band around his neck, and, before
he could recover himself, Samson's left leg
was knee-deep through his drum-head; whereby
he held the musician prostrate, as one antagonist
would hold another by his neckcloth. The slide
of the trombone seemed to have the power of
engulfing the whole of it, for Samson's head
struck the trombone, and it disappeared in the
player's mouth. The man who played the serpent
was nearly made a victim to it, as were our first
parents—

He was a short, duck-legged individual, and
wore the serpent, not exactly folded around him,
but buckled on. It caught in the wheel, and held
him there as the boa-constrictor twines part of its
body around the tree, and part around its victim.
The drum, however, saved the musician, though

it nearly ruined us. As Samson raised his drumincumbered
foot to advance, he stumbled flat to
earth, thereby ejecting my aunt upon the drummer,
Miss Dalrymple into the embrace of the serpent,
or rather the serpentine man, and myself
and the violated bandbox and its contents into
the street. The last thing that I remember, was
the infernal yell of the ragamuffins, which rent
the air at this catastrophe.

I do not know what my aunt would have done,
if Mr. Titlum had not rushed to her assistance.
He was fond of martial sounds, and, after helping
us into the gig, he had scarcely entered his house,
when the “stirring music of the drum” reached
his ear. Desirous of witnessing the display, he
passed out of his front door into Calvert street, and
then to the corner. He was just in time to witness
Samson's charge, and was the first to raise my
aunt. On finding she was not hurt, with much
delicacy he handed to her her cap, wig, and bonnet,
which had escaped from her respectable person
in the foul grasp of the drummer, who caught, in
his terror, at he knew not what. Miss Dalrymple,
unhurt, indignantly disengaged herself from the
embrace of the serpent. I must do my aunt the
justice to say, that I believe, before she ever
thought of the predicament in which she stood,
she looked around after me—a glance showed her
that I was unhurt, for I was on my feet endeavoring

to secure her false curls and cap from a black
fellow who had seized them. I was, however, unsuccessful;
for he made his escape in the mêlée.

All this while the soldiers were at a dead halt,
stamping their feet with impatience, while those
behind pressed front to learn the cause of the delay.
The captain, in the confusion, had his coat
skirts cut off by some dexterous pickpocket. As he
was just behind the band, he was in the midst of the
confusion, and a respect for the corps made him
forgetful of all personal consequences; so it was
easily done. But when it was done, he felt that
although, in the tented field, 'mid battle and blood,
if the foeman's bullet had deprived him of his skirts,
he could have fought only the more valiantly;
yet, considering the manner of the loss, and that
the crowd had ceased to admire him, and were
giving evidences of a contrary nature, and also
considering the trombone man, the drummer, and
he of the serpent, were disabled, therefore it was
both proper and dignified that on the spot he
should dismiss his company, which he forthwith
did. He instantly retreated into a neighboring
store, from the secluded backroom of which he
sent for his citizen's dress, and with much meekness
repaired to his own domicil.

It might, therefore, be admitted, that Samson
won the day. In confirmation of this remark, it
may be stated that, in consequence of the ridicule

growing out of this contest, the captain resigned
his command, under pretence of a press of business,
and the company disbanded themselves, and
many of them entered different volunteer corps.

But the matter did not stop here with Aunt
Betsy. The drummer sued for the damage done
to his drum, and also for an injury he had sustained
by twisting his ankle under him as he fell,
and spraining his wrist; asserting that, thereby, as
a drummer, his occupation was ruined; for should
his wrist get well, of which there was little
prospect, his occupation was gone should any company
to which he might be attached choose to take
a long parade. He of the serpent sued my aunt
for the damage done his serpent, and Miss Dalrymple
for divers and sundry contusions and
bruises, then and there received on various parts of
his person; and the trombone man brought suit,
not only for the utter annihilation of his instrument,
but for the loss of three front teeth, which,
he asserted, not only disabled him from playing
with anything like his former proficiency, but
which would, in all probability, shorten his life,
from the fact that his digestion was delicate in the
extreme, that his food had always required more
mastication than he could bestow upon it, and now
he would scarcely be able to masticate at all.

The captain magnanimously refused to bring
suit against my aunt for the loss of his skirts,

although a distinguished lawyer gave it as his decided
opinion, that he was entitled to recover;
because, although a pickpocket was the immediate
cause of the loss aforesaid, yet the captain would
not have sustained the loss, had it not been for the
confusion occasioned by my aunt's want of control
over the horse, and that, therefore, the captain
was entitled to recover consequential damages.

These suits excited an interest at the time, which
has not entirely died away yet. When the cause
came up, my aunt's lawyers denied that there was
any ground of action at all, but the judge, without
hearing the other side, declared there was. He
said, that if a man let loose a wild bull, which he
knew to be wild, though he intended no mischief
by it, yet he was liable for what damages the bull
might do, because he ought to have informed himself
of the nature of the beast before he threw
him upon the community. The question would arise,
the judge said, was my aunt capable of driving?
If she was, did her near-sightedness prevent her?
Could she with a child at her knees and a bandbox
at her feet, drive safely through a crowd like
that assembled on the occasion aforesaid? The
judge, in conclusion, remarked, “that he did not
mean to prejudge the case, but that it was clear to
his mind, not only that there were grounds of
action in the case, but also that the defendant
must show, conclusively, that she was capable of

driving; for, said he, this court never will sanction
the doctrine that any old lady, however respectable,
may be allowed, whether she can see or not,
or whether she can drive or not, to start off on the
Sabbath to church, with a feeble child between her
knees, and a helpless woman beside her, and cause
the great injury which it appears from the amount
of damages claimed in this case has been done;
men are not to be ruined in their professions, and
their health irrecoverably impaired in this way,
without a court of justice interfering and making
the party guilty pay for it.”

All legal readers are familiar with the case of
“The Musicians vs. Betsy Hugersford,” in the
Maryland Reports. It twice got up to the Court
of Appeals, and twice got back again, upon some
informality. Then it was delayed for years, while
a commission to take depositions was sent to New
Orleans, and even to France and to England, to
which countries several of the witnesses (we know
that musicians are migratory) had emigrated.

The day before the case was to be finally tried
upon its merits, the three musicians—the drummer,
the trombone, and the serpent—went on a party of
pleasure with many others, on board of a steamboat,
to Fort McHenry. After the bottle had circulated
briskly, it was proposed that each of the
musicians should take the respective instrument
upon which he had formerly played (for since that

eventful day of parade they had asserted they
were disabled), and try how much skill was left in
them. In the hilarity of the moment, unsuspicious
of consequences, they consented; and it was asserted
by all, and particularly by the band of musicians
on board, in their depositions, taken that
night, that they never heard better playing.

The whole proceeding was a trick of a young
lawyer, who had been taken by accident into
the case. He was well acquainted with the
three musicians, and had got them on the frolic
for the purpose of showing by witnesses that they
were as good players as ever, and, consequently,
had sustained no injury.

Since the parade, the trombone had kept a tavern,
the drummer an oyster-cellar, and the serpent a
public garden; and in consequence of the great injury
which the criminal negligence of my aunt had
inflicted on them, they were each extensively
patronized by a sympathizing public.

In the morning, when the suit was called in
court, the plaintiffs' counsel, who had got wind of
the depositions, and who considered that the witnesses
were forthcoming, reluctantly dropped the
suit, to prevent the accumulation of costs, which he
felt his clients would have to pay. But a short
time afterwards, when the band above mentioned,
who were of the military, had been ordered to
Florida, the suit was commenced again, their ex

parte depositions amounting to nothing; and they
themselves being without the jurisdiction of the
court, and not likely ever to return to Baltimore
again.

This case was pending when my aunt died, and
the question is now agitating the lawyers, whether
her heirs could be made parties to a new suit.

Notwithstanding all the trouble this business
gave my poor aunt, I confess it was a great satisfaction
to me, as it put an end to our gig rides
thereafter.