 | Mrs. Skaggs's husbands, and other sketches |  |
SURPRISING ADVENTURES OF MASTER
CHARLES SUMMERTON.
AT exactly half past nine o'clock on the morning
of Saturday, August 26, 1865, Master
Charles Summerton, aged five years, disappeared
mysteriously from his paternal residence on Folsom
Street, San Francisco. At twenty-five minutes past
nine he had been observed, by the butcher, amusing
himself by going through that popular youthful
exercise known as “turning the crab,” a feat in
which he was singularly proficient. At a court of
inquiry summarily held in the back parlor at 10.15,
Bridget, cook, deposed to have detected him at
twenty minutes past nine, in the felonious abstraction
of sugar from the pantry, which, by the same
token, had she known what was a-comin', she 'd
have never previnted. Patsey, a shrill-voiced youth
from a neighboring alley, testified to have seen
“Chowley” at half past nine, in front of the
butcher's shop round the corner, but as this young
gentleman chose to throw out the gratuitous belief
that the missing child had been converted into
sausages by the butcher, his testimony was received
with some caution by the female portion of
by its masculine members. But whatever might
have been the hour of his departure, it was certain
that from half past ten A. M. until nine P. M., when
he was brought home by a policeman, Charles Summerton
was missing. Being naturally of a reticent
disposition, he has since resisted, with but one exception,
any attempt to wrest from him a statement
of his whereabouts during that period. That exception
has been myself. He has related to me
the following in the strictest confidence.
His intention on leaving the door-steps of his
dwelling was to proceed without delay to Van Dieman's
Land, by way of Second and Market streets.
This project was subsequently modified so far as to
permit a visit to Otaheite, where Captain Cook was
killed. The outfit for his voyage consisted of two
car-tickets, five cents in silver, a fishing-line, the
brass capping of a spool of cotton, which, in his
eyes, bore some resemblance to metallic currency,
and a Sunday-school library ticket. His garments,
admirably adapted to the exigencies of any climate,
were severally a straw hat with a pink ribbon, a
striped shirt, over which a pair of trousers, uncommonly
wide in comparison to their length, were
buttoned, striped balmoral stockings, which gave
his youthful legs something of the appearance of
wintergreen candy, and copper-toed shoes with
iron heels, capable of striking fire from any flagstone.
not help feeling, would be of infinite service to him
in the wilds of Van Dieman's Land, which, as pictorially
represented in his geography, seemed to be
deficient in corner groceries and matches.
Exactly as the clock struck the half-hour, the
short legs and straw hat of Master Charles Summerton
disappeared around the corner. He ran
rapidly, partly by way of inuring himself to the
fatigues of the journey before him, and partly by
way of testing his speed with that of a North Beach
car which was proceeding in his direction. The
conductor, not being aware of this generous and
lofty emulation, and being somewhat concerned at
the spectacle of a pair of very short, twinkling legs
so far in the rear, stopped his car and generously
assisted the youthful Summerton upon the platform.
From this point a hiatus of several hours'
duration occurs in Charles's narrative. He is under
the impression that he “rode out” not only his two
tickets, but that he became subsequently indebted
to the company for several trips to and from the
opposite termini, and that at last, resolutely refusing
to give any explanation of his conduct, he was
finally ejected, much to his relief, on a street corner.
Although, as he informs us, he felt perfectly
satisfied with this arrangement, he was impelled
under the circumstances to hurl after the conductor
an opprobrious appellation which he had ascertained
and possessed peculiarly exasperating
properties.
We now approach a thrilling part of the narrative,
before which most of the adventures of the
“Boys' Own Book” pale into insignificance. There
are times when the recollection of this adventure
causes Master Charles to break out in a cold sweat,
and he has several times since its occurrence been
awakened by lamentations and outcries in the night
season by merely dreaming of it. On the corner of
the street lay several large empty sugar hogsheads.
A few young gentlemen disported themselves
therein, armed with sticks, with which they removed
the sugar which still adhered to the joints
of the staves, and conveyed it to their mouths.
Finding a cask not yet preëmpted, Master Charles
set to work, and for a few moments revelled in a
wild saccharine dream, whence he was finally
roused by an angry voice and the rapidly retreating
footsteps of his comrades. An ominous sound
smote his ear, and the next moment he felt the
cask wherein he lay uplifted and set upright against
the wall. He was a prisoner, but as yet undiscovered.
Being satisfied in his mind that hanging was
the systematic and legalized penalty for the outrage
he had committed, he kept down manfully the
cry that rose to his lips.
In a few moments he felt the cask again lifted
the edge of his prison, and which he concluded belonged
to the ferocious giant Blunderbore, whose
features and limbs he had frequently met in colored
pictures. Before he could recover from his astonishment,
his cask was placed with several others on
a cart, and rapidly driven away. The ride which
ensued he describes as being fearful in the extreme.
Rolled around like a pill in a box, the agonies
which he suffered may be hinted at, not spoken.
Evidences of that protracted struggle were visible
in his garments, which were of the consistency of
syrup, and his hair, which for several hours, under
the treatment of hot water, yielded a thin treacle.
At length the cart stopped on one of the wharves,
and the cartman began to unload. As he tilted
over the cask in which Charles lay, an exclamation
broke from his lips, and the edge of the cask fell
from his hands, sliding its late occupant upon the
wharf. To regain his short legs, and to put the
greatest possible distance between himself and the
cartman, were his first movements on regaining his
liberty. He did not stop until he reached the corner
of Front Street.
Another blank succeeds in this veracious history.
He cannot remember how or when he found himself
in front of the circus tent. He has an indistinct
recollection of having passed through a long
street of stores which were all closed, and which
spent a miserable night in the sugar cask. But he
remembers hearing the sound of music within the
tent, and of creeping on his hands and knees, when
no one was looking, until he passed under the canvas.
His description of the wonders contained
within that circle; of the terrific feats which were
performed by a man on a pole, since practised by
him in the back yard; of the horses, one of which
was spotted and resembled an animal in his Noah's
Ark, hitherto unrecognized and undefined; of the
female equestrians, whose dresses could only be
equalled in magnificence by the frocks of his sister's
doll; of the painted clown, whose jokes excited
a merriment, somewhat tinged by an undefined
fear, was an effort of language which this pen could
but weakly transcribe, and which no quantity of
exclamation points could sufficiently illustrate.
He is not quite certain what followed. He remembers
that almost immediately on leaving the circus
it became dark, and that he fell asleep, waking up
at intervals on the corners of the streets, on front
steps, in somebody's arms, and finally in his own
bed. He was not aware of experiencing any regret
for his conduct; he does not recall feeling at any
time a disposition to go home; he remembers distinctly
that he felt hungry.
He has made this disclosure in confidence. He
wishes it to be respected. He wants to know if
you have five cents about you.
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