that is humble might hope for it here," and then the very first
village visible was called "Vide Poche." It is now a suburb of St.
Louis.

I took a passage on another boat up the Illinois river. There was a
very lordly man on the lower deck who was frequently "trailing his
coat." He had, in fact, no coat at all, only a grey flannel shirt
and nankeen trousers, but he was remarkably in want of a fight, and
anxious to find a man willing to be licked. He was a desperado of
the great river. We had heard and read of such men, of their
reckless daring and deadly fights; but we were peaceful people; we
had come out west to make a living, and therefore did not want to be
killed. When the desperado came near we looked the other way.

There was a party of five immigrant Englishmen sitting on their
luggage. One of them was very strongly built, a likely match for the
bully, and a deck-hand pointing to him said:

"Jack, do you know what that Englishman says about you?"

"No, what does he say?"

"He says he don't think you are of much account with all your brag.
Reckons he could lick you in a couple of minutes."

Uttering imprecations, Jack approached the Englishman, and dancing
about the deck, cleared the ring for the coming combat.

"Come on, you green-horn, and take your gruel. Here's the best man
on the river for you. You'll find him real grit."