Web
and Book design,
Copyright, Kellscraft Studio 1999-2008 (Return to Web Text-ures) |
(HOME)
|
CHAPTER XX WHEN UNCLE HANNIBAL SPOKE
AT THE
CHAPEL FOR a
month or more the old Squire
had looked perplexed. Two of his lifelong friends were rival candidates
for the
senatorship from Maine, and each had expressed the hope that the old
Squire
would aid him in his canvass. Both candidates knew that many of the old
Squire's friends and neighbors looked to him for guidance in political,
matters. Without seeming to express personal preference, the old Squire
could
not choose between them, for both were statesmen of wide experience and
in
every way good men for the office. The first
was Hannibal Hamlin, who
had been Vice-President with Abraham Lincoln in 1861-1865: "Uncle
Hannibal," as we young people at the farm always called him after that
memorable visit of his, when we ate "fried pies" together. He had
been Senator before the Civil. War, and also Governor of Maine; now,
after the
war, in 1868, he had again been nominated for the senatorship under the
auspices of the Republican party. The other
candidate, the Hon. Lot M.
Morrill, had been Governor of Maine in 1858, and had also been United
States
Senator. I cherished a warm feeling for him, for he was the man who had
so
opportunely helped me to capture the runaway calf, Little Dagon. Politically,
we young folks were
much divided in our sympathies that fall. My cousins Addison and
Theodora were
ardent supporters of Uncle Hannibal, whereas I, thinking of that calf,
could
not help feeling loyal to Senator Morrill. Hot debates we had! Halstead
alone
was indifferent. At last Ellen declared herself on my side and thus
made a tie
at table. I never knew whom the old Squire favored; he never told us
and was
always reluctant to speak of the matter. It was a
very close contest, and in
the legislature was finally decided by a plurality of one in favor of
Mr.
Hamlin. Seventy-five votes were cast for him, seventy-four for Mr.
Morrill, and
there was one blank vote, over which a dispute later arose. Earlier in
the season, when the
legislators who were to decide the matter at Augusta were being
elected, both
candidates made personal efforts to win popular support. Thus it
happened that
Uncle Hannibal on one of his visits to his native town that year,
promised to
give us a little talk. Since there was no public hall in the
neighborhood, the
gathering was to be held at the capacious old Methodist chapel. There had
been no regular preaching
there of late, and the house had fallen into lamentable disrepair. The
roof was
getting leaky; the wind had blown off several of the clapboards; and a
large
patch of the plaster, directly over the pulpit, had fallen from the
ceiling. Fall was
now drawing on, with colder
weather, and ' so, on the day of Uncle Hannibal's talk, the old Squire
sent
Addison and me over to the chapel to kindle a fire in the big box stove
and
also to sweep out the place. We drove
over in the morning the
meeting was to begin at two o'clock and set to work at once. While we
were
sweeping up the dιbris we noticed insects flying round overhead. For a
while,
however, we gave them little heed; Addison merely remarked that there
was
probably a hornets' nest up in the loft, but that hornets would not
molest any
one if they were left alone. But after we had kindled a fire in the
stove and
the long funnel had begun to heat the upper part of the room, they
began to fly
in still greater numbers. Soon one of them darted down at us, and
Addison
pulled off his hat to drive it away. "I say!"
he cried, as his
eyes followed the insect where it alighted on the ceiling. "That's no
hornet! That's a honeybee and an Egyptian, too!" We quickly
made sure that they were
indeed Egyptian bees. They were coming down through the cracks between
the
laths at the place where the plaster had fallen from the ceiling. "Do you
suppose there's a swarm
of bees up there in the loft?" Addison exclaimed. "I'll bet there
is," he added, "a runaway swarm that's gone in at the gable end
outside, where the clapboards are off." He climbed
up on the high pulpit and
with the handle of the broom rapped on the ceiling. We immediately
heard a deep
humming sound overhead, and so many bees flew down through the cracks
that
Addison descended in haste. We retreated toward the door. "What are
we going to do when
Senator Hamlin and all the people come?" I asked. "I don't
know!" Addison
muttered, perplexed. "That old loft is roaring full of bees. We've got
to
do something with them, or there won't be any speaking here to-day." We thought
of stopping up the
cracks, but there were too many of them to make that practicable. To
dislodge
the swarm from the loft, too, would be equally difficult, for the more
we
disturbed the bees the more furious they would become. At last we
thought of the old
Squire's bee smoker with which he had sometimes subdued angry swarms
that were
bent on stinging. "You drive
home as fast as you
can and get the smoker and a ladder," Addison said, "and I'll stay
here to watch the fire in the stove." So I drove
old Nance home at her
best pace. When I got there I looked for the old Squire to tell him of
our
trouble, but found that he had already driven to the village to meet
Senator
Hamlin and the other speakers of the afternoon. Grandmother and the
girls were
too busy getting ready for the distinguished guests, who were to have
supper
with us, to give much heed to my story of the bees. So I got the
smoker, the
box of elm-wood punk and a ladder about fourteen feet long, and with
this load
drove back at top speed to the meetinghouse. Addison
had eaten his share of the
luncheon that we had brought, and while I devoured mine he pottered
with the
smoker; neither of us understood very well how it worked. There are now
several
kinds of bee smokers on the market; but the old Squire had contrived
this one
by making use of an old-fashioned bellows to puff the smoke from out of
a
two-quart tin can in which the punk wood was fired by means of a live
coal. The
nose of the bellows was inserted at one end of the can; and into a hole
at the
other end the old gentleman had soldered a short tin tube through which
he
could blow the smoke in any direction he desired. In order not to burn
his
fingers he had inclosed both bellows and can in supporting strips of
wood; thus
he could hold the contrivance in one hand and squeeze the bellows with
the other. As we were
unfamiliar with the
contrivance, we both had to climb the ladder one to hold the can and
the
other to pump the bellows. We lost so much time in getting started that
when at
last we were ready to /begin operations people had already begun to
arrive.
They asked us all sorts of questions and bothered us a good deal, but
we kept
right on at our task. The smoker was working well, and we felt greatly
encouraged. Those rings of black vapor drove the bees back and, as the
smoke
rose through the cracks, prevented them from coming down again. We were
still up that ladder by the
pulpit, puffing smoke at those cracks, when the old Squire and Uncle
Hannibal
arrived, with Judge Peters and the Hon. Hiram Bliss. The house was now
full of
people, and they cheered the newcomers; there was not a little laughter
and
joking when some one told the visiting statesmen that a swarm of bees
was
overhead. "Boys,"
Uncle Hannibal
cried, "do you suppose there's much honey up there?" He asked
the Squire whether Egyptian
bees were good honey gatherers, and laughed heartily when the old
gentleman
told him what robbers they were and how savagely they stung. "Judge!"
Uncle Hannibal
cried to Judge Peters. "That's what's the matter with our Maine
politics.
The Egyptians are robbing us of our liberties!" That idea
seemed to stick in his
mind, for later, when he began his address, he referred humorously to
several
prominent leaders of the opposing party as bold, bad Egyptians. "We
shall
have to smoke them out," he said, laughing. "And I guess that the
voters of this district are going to do it, and the boys, too," he
continued, pointing up to us on the ladder. He had
refused to speak from the
pulpit, and so stood on the floor of the house in what he described
as his
proper place; the pulpit, he said, was no place for politics. After so
many years I cannot pretend
to remember all that Uncle Hannibal said; besides, my attention was
largely
engrossed in directing the nozzle of the smoker at those cracks between
the
laths. Addison and I were badly crowded on the ladder, and the small
rungs were
not comfortable to stand on. Now and then, in spite of our efforts, an
Egyptian
got through the cracks and dived down near Uncle Hannibal's head. "A little more smoke up there, boys!" he would cry, pretending to dodge the insect. "I thought I heard an Egyptian then, and it sounded a little like Brother Morrill's voice!" WHEN UNCLE HANNIBAL SPOKE AT THE CHAPEL The great
buzzing that was going on
up in the loft was plainly audible below. Now and again Uncle Hannibal
cocked
his ear to listen, and once he cried, "The Egyptians are rallying! We
are
going to have a hard fight with them this year. Don't let them rob us!"
When the
old Squire introduced the
next speaker, Judge Peters, Senator Hamlin remarked that Peters was a
hard stinger
himself, as many a criminal had learned to his cost. And when the Hon.
Hiram
Bliss was introduced, Uncle Hannibal cut in with the remark that we
need make
no mistake on account of Mr. Bliss's name, for when he got after the
Egyptians
they would be in anything except a blissful state of mind. He also
jocosely
bade Mr. Bliss not to talk too long. "We must
get that honey,"
he said, laughing heartily. "I'd much rather have some honey than hear
one
of your old dry speeches!" During Mr.
Bliss's address we boys
were wondering whether Senator Hamlin really intended to try to get
that honey.
We were inclined to think that he had merely been joking; but Mr. Bliss
had no
sooner sat down than Uncle Hannibal was on his feet. "Now for
that honey!" he
cried with twinkling eyes. "I feel sure there's enough up there for
every
one to have a bite." "How are
you going to get
it?" some one said. "Why, go
right up and take
it!" he exclaimed. "You know, my friends, that all through the Civil
War I had the misfortune to be Vice-President, which is about the most
useless,
sit-still-and-do-nothing office in this country. All those four years I
wanted
to go to the front and do something. I wanted to be a general or a
private with
a gun. The war is past, thank God, but I haven't got over that feeling
yet, and
now I want to lead an attack on those Egyptians! Back there over the
singers'
gallery I think I see a scuttle that leads up into the loft. Come on,
boys, and
fetch a bucket or two, or some baskets. Let's storm the fort!" The crowd
was laughing now, and men
were shouting advice of all sorts. Uncle Hannibal was already on his
way to the
singers' gallery, and Addison, hastily thrusting the smoker into my
hands, got
down from the ladder and ran to help our distinguished visitor. Others
followed
them up the back stairs to the gallery; but the old Squire, seeing what
was
likely to happen, came to my assistance on the ladder. Taking the
smoker into
his own hands, he worked it vigorously in order to send as much smoke
as
possible up into the loft. But on
pushing up the scuttle the
opening was found to be no more than fifteen inches square; and Uncle
Hannibal
was a two-hundred-pound man with broad shoulders. He mounted the
singers'
bench, but he could barely get his large black head up through the
hole. "Ah!" he
cried in disgust.
"Why didn't they make it larger? Just my luck. I never can get to the
front!" Grabbing
Addison playfully by the
shoulder he said, "I will put you up." But at
first Addison held back.
"They'll sting me to death!" he protested. "Wait!"
Uncle Hannibal
cried. "We will rig you up for it!" And leaning over the front rail
of the gallery, he shouted, "Has any lady got a veil two or three
veils?" Several
women gave their veils,
which Uncle Hannibal tied over Addison's hat; then the Senator put his
own
large gloves on Addison's hands. By that time the gallery was full of
people
all laughing and giving advice. A man produced some string, and with it
they
tied Addison's trouser legs down and fastened his jacket sleeves tight
round
the wrists. Then Uncle Hannibal lifted him up as if he had been a child
and at
one boost shoved him up through the scuttle hole. When Addison had got
to his
feet in the loft, the Senator passed him a wicker lunch basket and a
tin pail. Tiptoeing
his way perilously over
the scantlings, laths and plaster, Addison made his way back to the
rear end of
the meetinghouse. The honeycombs were mostly on a beam against the
boards of
the outer wall. The punk smoke was so dense up there that he could
hardly get
his breath. The bees, nearly torpid from the smoke, were crawling
sluggishly
along on the underside of the roof, and offered no resistance when
Addison
broke off the combs. With his
basket and pail well
filled, he tiptoed back to the scuttle and handed the spoils to Uncle
Hannibal,
who instantly led the way down the back stairs and outdoors. "We have
despoiled the
Egyptians!" he cried. "I didn't do much myself, but a younger hero
has appeared. Now for a sweet time!" And he passed the pail and basket
round. There was
as much as twenty pounds
of honey, and every one got at least a taste. The old Squire and I had
now
stopped puffing smoke, and we joined the others outside. To this day I
remember
just how Uncle Hannibal looked as he stood there on the meetinghouse
platform,
with a chunk of white, dripping comb in his hand. He took a big bite
from it;
and I said to myself that, if he took many more bites like that one,
there
would not be much honey left for the old Squire and me. But we got a
taste of
it, and very good honey it was. Our
victory over the Egyptians,
however, was not yet complete. Either because the smoke was now
clearing up, or
because they smelled the honey that we were eating, they began to come
round to
the front end of the house, where they hovered over the people and
darted down
savagely at them. Outcries arose; men and women tried frantically to
brush the
insects away. Horses out at the sheds began to squeal. More bees were
coming
round every moment the angriest bees I have ever seen! They stung
wherever
they touched. Judge Peters and Mr. Bliss were fighting the insects with
both
hands; and Uncle Hannibal, too, was pawing the air, with guffaws of
laughter. "The
Egyptians are getting the
best of us!" he cried. "We had better retire in as good order as we
can or it will be another Bull Run!" Retreat
was clearly the part of
discretion, and so the whole gathering streamed away down the road to a
safe
distance. In fact, there was a pretty lively time before all of the
people had
unhitched their teams and got away. But in spite of many bee stings it
had been
a very hilarious meeting; and it is safe to say that all who were at
the
Methodist chapel that afternoon wanted Uncle Hannibal for Senator. The old
Squire drove home with his guests
to supper; Addison and I gathered up our brooms and bee smoker and
followed
them. At supper
Uncle Hannibal asked us to
tell him more about those Egyptian bees, of which he had never heard
before;
and after the meal he went out to see the colonies in the garden. He
walked up
to a hive and boldly caught one of the bees between his thumb and
forefinger.
Holding it fast, he picked up a pea pod for it to sting, so that he
could see
how long a stinger it had. "Ah, but
that is a cruel
chap!" he said. "You'll have to use brimstone, I guess, to get those
Egyptians out of the meetinghouse." In point
of fact, brimstone was what
two of the church stewards did use, a few weeks later, before there
were
services at the chapel again; but they did not find much honey left. |