Hello, everyone; it is I, an old cap and ball revolver, speaking. I
don't have any adventures any more. All I do is hang on the wall or lie in a
trunk, day in and day out, year in and year out.
But the time doesn't
pass so slowly now because another cap and ball revolver has come to lie in the
trunk with me and we often discuss old times.
To begin with my private
history, I was made by the Manhattan Firearms Company, New York City, N. Y. Then
I was put in a box with many other revolvers like myself.
We were then
loaded on a boat that sailed up the Hudson to Albany, where we journeyed to
Buffalo on the Erie canal. There we were put on a ship bound for the thriving
frontier town of Chicago.
The trip on Lake Erie was pleasant, but on
Lake Huron we encountered a most terrific storm. We felt sure we would be sent
straight to the bottom, but we came safely through the storm, much to our
relief. After that, nothing thrilling happened until we arrived at our
destination.
After being in port for a day we were taken from the hold
of the ship and set on the wharf. Here we heard men talking and the banging of
boxes as they were unloaded on the wharves. I heard men talking about the
Illinois-Michigan canal, and what a help to commerce it would be when completed.
One man said he had come all the way from Ireland to get a job on the canal.
All at once the box we were in was loaded onto a cart and we jolted over the
rough streets to a general merchandise store. Here we were unloaded and
unpacked. Some of us were put in the show windows (I being one).
After
being there for some time, a man named John H. Worsley came in and bought me. I
was paid for with wheat. He had brought in a load of wheat, as was the custom in
those days, and traded it for provisions, money being very hard to get.
The journey home was very harsh, for there were many marshes to cross. To go
across a marsh one had to unload the wagon, drive it across then wade back and
carry each thing separately to the wagon and reload. This had to be repeated
many times; the journey home took about a week.
When we reached home we
were heartily welcomed by the family. The girls didn't care much for me but the
boys liked me very much. After that I made several more trips to Chicago with my
owner. We never happened to have any Indian encounters, however, much to my
disappointment, for I longed to show my owner how well I could perform.
In later years when the Indians had become more friendly, they sometimes stopped
at my owner's house. He always invited them in and treated them courteously. On
one of these occasions it was very cold. An Indian came in wearing scanty
clothing. My owner asked, "Aren't you cold?"
The Indian then asked,
"Your face cold?"
"No," replied my owner.
"Indian allface," said
the Indian.
When Indians came riding by with their red blankets and
Indian ponies, grandmother would take me from my place on the wall and lay me in
a convenient place until the Indians had passed far out of sight.
In the
last years of my owner's life my life became dull and uneventful because he
seldom carried me, except when he went to the timber to fix fences. If he saw a
rabbit he would take me and shoot it.
At last I was not carried at all,
but was left hanging on a nail. When my owner died I was very sad, for we had
gone through many hardships together, and we knew what it was to plow with oxen
and use a plow that wouldn't scour and drag brush over the plowed ground to get
it in shape, and to haul grain to Chicago.
I was then put in a trunk and
let lay for many years. One day about a year ago the lid was lifted and I heard
a little boy say, "Oh Ralph, look! I've found an old cap and ball revolver."
I am now his proudest possession, and he shows me to all his friends.
Extracted 08 Nov 2018 by Norma Hass from Stories of Pioneer Days in La Salle County, Illinois, by Grammar Grade Pupils, published in 1932, page 52.
| Lee | DeKalb | Kane |
| Bureau |
 |
Kendall |
| Putnam | Grundy | |
| Marshall | Woodford | Livingston |
