Well, old fellow, you're a hoss!” is a western expression, which has grown into a truism as regards Judge Allen, and a finer specimen of a western judge, to use his constituents' language, “aint no whar,” for, besides being a sound jurist, he is a great wag, and the best practical joker within the circuit of six states. Among the wolf-scalp hunters of the western border of Missouri, Judge, or, as they more familiarly style him, Hoss Allen is all powerful popular, and the “bar” hunters of the southern section equally admire his free and easy manners—they consider him one of the people—none of your stuck-up imported chaps from the dandy states, but a real genuine westerner—in short, a hoss! Some of the Judge's admirers prevailed upon him, recently, to stand a canvass for the gubernatorial chair, in which he had Judge Edwards for an antagonist, and many are the rich jokes told of their political encounters. A marked difference characterizes the two men, and more striking opposites in disposition and demeanor would be hard to find, Edwards being slow, dignified, and methodical, while Hoss tosses dignity to the winds, and comes right down to a free and easy familiarity with the “boys.” Hoss Allen counted strong on the border counties, while his antagonist built his hopes on the centre.

Allen and Edwards had travelled together for a number of days, explaining their separate views upon state government, at each regular place of appointment, and were now nearing the southern part of the state, a section where Hoss had filled the judgeship with great unction. Here he resolved to spring a joke upon his antagonist, which would set the south laughing at him, and most effectually insure his defeat among the bar hunters. He had been maturing a plan, as they journeyed together, and now having stopped for the night about one day's journey from the town of Benton, one of their places of appointment, and the head quarters of the most influential men of the bar section, Hoss proceeded to put his trick in progress of execution. He held a secret conference, at the stable, with the boy who took his horse, and offered him a dollar to take a message that night to Tom Walters, at the forks leading to Benton. The boy agreed, and Hoss penciled a note describing his antagonist, who was unknown in the south of the state, coupled with an earnest request, that he “would keep a look out for Judge Eddards, and by all means be careful not to let him get into that cussed cedar swamp!” His express was faithful, and in due time Tom received the missive. In the meantime, the victim, Edwards, in a sweet state of confidence, was unbending his dignity at hearing Hoss relate to their host his amusing yarns about the early settlers. Having talked all the household into a merry mood, he proposed turning in for the night, but first offered his service to unlace the girls' corsets, and in an underbreath asked the old woman to elope with him in the morning—Edwards blushed at this, the girls' tittered, and the host and his wife said, he was a “raal hoss!”—Allen acknowledged he was a leetle inclined that way, and as he had had his feed, he now wanted his straw.

In the morning Hoss Allen became “dreadful poorly,” and it was with great difficulty he could be prevailed upon to get up. All were sympathising with his affliction, and the matron of the house boiled him some hot “sass-tea,” which, the old man said, relieved him mightily. Judge Edwards assured Hoss, that it would be necessary for him to lay up for a day or two, and the afflicted candidate signified the same, himself. Before they parted Hoss requested Edwards, as he had the whole field to himself, not to be too hard upon him. His antagonist promised to spare him, but chuckled all the while at having a clear field in Allen's most popular district. Shaking the old Hoss by the hand, as they were about to separate, he remarked—“we will meet at Benton, I hope, in different trim, Friend Allen.” They did meet in different trim, but Edwards little dreamed the particular kind of trim he would appear in. As soon as Judge Edwards was fairly started, it was surprising the rapid change which took place in his antagonist—Hoss' eye lit up, a broad grin spread over his features, and pulling off the handkerchief, which was tied around his head, he twirled it above him like a flag, then stuffed it in his pocket, remarking coolly, at the same time,—“well, that thar swamp, jest at this season, is awful!” His express reported himself after his night ride, assured Allen that all was O. K., and received his dollar for delivering the message, upon receiving which intelligence, Allen seated himself quietly and comfortably at his coffee, and imbibed it with a relish that drove the idea of sickness into a hopeless decline.

Judge Edwards rapidly progressed on his way, highly gratified at having his opponent off in this part of the field, and as he, in this happy mood, journeyed onwards he set his brain to work conning a most powerful speech, one that would knock the sand from under Hoss, and leave him in a state of sprawling defeat. He resolved to sweep the south, from that point, like a prairie fire. About noon, or perhaps an hour after, he arrived at Tom Walters' for dinner, and while it was preparing, inquired how far he was from Benton?

“I've an idea,” said Tom, “you're well onto nine miles frum thar—jest an easy arternoon ride.”

This was highly satisfactory to the Judge, and perceiving that the provender preparing was of alike pleasing character, he spread himself back upon a hickory bottomed chair with a kind of easy dignity, at once comfortable to himself, and edifying to his host.

“Stranger,” inquired Tom, “did you scare up anythin' like the two candidates, Jedge Eddards and old Hoss Allen, on your way down yeur?”

“I did see something of them, my friend,” answered the Judge, and then, as if making up his mind to surprise Tom, and give him a striking example of democratic condescension, he inquired, “would you know either of the gentlemen, if they stood before you?”

“Why, as to old Hoss,” said Tom, “I don't know anybody else, but this new Jedge I ain't never seed, and ef he is the slicked up finefied sort on a character they pictur' him, I don't want to see him—Its my opinion, these squirtish kind a fellars ain't perticular hard baked, and they allers goes in fur aristocracy notions.” The Judge had no idea that Tom was smoking him, and he congratulated himself that an opportunity here presented itself, where he could remove a wrong impression personally; so, loftily viewing this southern constituent, he remarked:—

“You have heard a calumny, my friend, for Judge Edwards now sits before you, and you can see whether his appearance denotes such a person as you describe.”

“No!” shouted Tom, with mock surprise, “you aint comin' a hoax over a fellar?—you raally are the sure enough Jedge?”

“I am really the Judge, my friend,” responded his honor, highly elevated with Tom's astonishment.

“Then gin us your paw,” shouted Tom, “you're jest the lookin' fellar kin sweep these yeur diggins like a catamount! What in the yearth did you do with old Hoss on the road? I heerd he was a comin' along with you. He aint gin out, has he?”

The Judge replied, with a smile which expressed disparagement of Hoss Allen's powers of endurance, that he was forced to lie up on the route, from fatigue. Dinner being announced as ready the Judge and Tom seated themselves, and the latter highly expanded his guest's prospects in the district, assuring him that he could lick Hoss “powerful easy, ef he wasn't broken winded.” The meal being ended, the Judge demanded his horse, and inquired of his host the direct road to Benton, which Tom thus mapped out:—

“Arter you pass the big walnut, about two miles from yeur, keep it a mile on your left, and take the right trail fur about six hundred yards, when you'll cum to the 'saplin acre,' thar you keep to the right agin, and when that trail fotches you up, why right over from thar lies Benton.”

This was a very clear direction to one who had never before travelled the road, but the Judge, trusting to luck, said, “he thought he would be able to get there without much difficulty,” and started off, leaving his late entertainer gazing after him.

“Well, I allow you will, Jedge,” chuckled Tom,—“You'll git inter that swamp, jest as sure as shootin', and you'll hev the biggest and hungryest audience of mosquitors, ever a candidate preached law or larnin' to!” To secure his finding the swamp road, he had stationed his boy Jim near the turn off, to make the matter sure.

In the course of a couple of hours along came Hoss Allen, who, as soon as Tom took hold of his bridle, winked his eye at him while he inquired:—

“Did Jedge Eddards come along, Tom?”

“Well, he did, Hoss, oncommon extensive in his political feelins'.”

“And you didn't let the Jedge stray away from the swamp road?” inquired Hoss.

“Well, I predicate I didn't, fur by this time he's travellin' into the diggins most amazin' innocently,” and then the pair enjoyed a regular guffaw!

“He's safe as a skin'd bar, then, Tom, and I'll spread his hide afore the Benton boys to-morrow—jest let them into the joke, and I allow, after that, his dandified aristocracy speeches won't have much effect in this section.

“Go it, Jedge,” shouted Tom, “ef I ain't thar to hear it, it'll be 'cause the breath'll leave me afore then—gin him goss without sweeten'—rumple his har, but don't spile the varmint!”

After Hoss had stayed his stomach with a cold bite, he bade Tom good-day, and started for Benton, highly tickled with the success of his trick. As he neared the “saplnracre,” he met Jim, who exhibited a full spread of his ivories, when Hoss. inquired which road he had directed the gentleman before him?

“He gone into de swamp road, massa, but what de debil he want dar, 'cept he arter coon skins, dis niggah doesn't hab no idear, whatsomedeber.”

Allen passed on, assured that all was right, and as his horse leisurely ambled forward, he broke into singing a verse of a western ditty, which says:—

“Thar aint throughout this western nation,

Another like old Hickory

He was bom jest fur his siteation—

A bold leader of the free.”

As night spread her curtain over this wild district, Hoss neared Benton, and as his nag jogged up the principal street, he broke out into a louder strain, repeating the above verse, on hearing which, the “boys,” who were expecting him and Edwards, turned out, and old Hoss was received with a cheer.

“Hello, Jedge!—How are you, Old Hoss?—Give us your paw, Governor!—Here at last, Squire!”—and sundry such expressions of familiar welcome was showered on Allen, by the crowd. “Come in, and git a drink, old fellar,” shouted one of the crowd, and forthwith all hands pushed for the hotel bar room, where sweetened corn juice was pushed about with vast liberality—at the candidate's expense, of course.

“Whar did you leave the new fellar, Jedge Eddards?” was the general inquiry.

“Why, boys, I stopped to rest on the road, and he slid off to git ahead of me—I heered on him at the forks, and expected he was here. It's my opinion, boys, he's seen a bar on the road, and bein' too delicate to make the varmint clar the path, he's taken a long circuit round him!”

This raised a laugh among the crowd, and it was followed up by general inquiries as to what Edwards looked like, but to these Hoss shook his head, remarking, as he raised his hands expressive of how they would be astonished—“jest wait tell you see him yourselves, boys, and then you'll be satisfied.”

Let us return to Judge Edwards, who had easily found his way past the “sapling acre,” and by the aid of Jim's direction progressed into the swamp road, as easy as if it were his destination. Having travelled, as he thought, about ten miles, he began to look out for Benton, and every now and then uttered an expression of surprise, that they had located the town in such a swampy country—every rod he progressed became more and more obscure, the brush more thick and wild in growth, and the ground more moist and yielding. Night, too, that season for the rendezvous of underbrush and tangle-wood horrors, was fast gathering its forces in the depths of the forest, and beneath the shadows of the thick bushes, shrouding, as with a dark mist, each object on the earth's surface, creeping up the trunks of the old trees, and noiselessly stealing away the light in which they had proudly spread their green foliage, while in lieu of their showy garb he clad them in a temporary mourning. The song of the birds became hushed, while the cry of the startled wolf was borne upon the breeze to the ear of the affrighted traveller, interrupted occasionally by the sharp m-e-o-w! of the wild-cat, making together a vocal concert most unharmonious to the ear of the bewildered candidate. To sum up these horrors a myriad of mosquitoes, as musical as hunger and vigorous constitutions could make them, hummed and fi-z-z-zed around him, darting in their stings and darting away from his annoyed blows, with a pertinacity and perseverance only known to the Missouri tribe of insects.

Poor Edwards!—he was fairly in for it—into a swamp at that!—Night was fast making all roads alike obscure, and with amazing rapidity covering our traveller in a mantle of uncertainty. The possibility of his escape that night first became improbable, and then impossible. He hallooed at the highest pitch of his voice, but the wolf was the only live varmint that answered his cry, and a strange fear began to creep over his heart. He remembered well reading accounts of where hungry droves of these animals had eaten the horse from under the saddle, the rider upon it, bones, hide, har and all, leaving scarce a vestige of the victims to mark the deed, and his hair grew uneasy on his cranium at the bare thought of such an unpolitical termination to his canvass. At this particular moment a yell, as of a thousand devils in his immediate neighbourhood, set his heart knocking against his ribs in a fearful manner. When he partially recovered from the shock he tied his horse to one tree and quickly mounted another—whispering the hope to his heart, at the same time, that a meal on his horse would satisfy the gathering crowd of varmints, who were shouting their death song below him. Having seated himself astride a limb, the mosquitoes had a fair chance at him, and they put the Judge through as active an exercise as ever was inflicted on a recruit—there was this difference, however, between him and a recruit, they are generally raw at the commencement of a drill, but poor Edwards was most raw at the end of his lesson. Every new yell of the swamp pre-emptioners, made him climb a limb higher, and each progression upwards appeared to introduce him to a fresh and hungrier company of mosquitoes—the trees in the swamp were like the dwellings in Paris, their highest tenants were the most needy. Day at length broke, and our harassed candidate, almost exhausted, clambered from his exalted position. His frightened but unscathed steed uttered a neigh of welcome as he bestrode him, and giving loose to the rein he committed his escape to the animal's sagacity, while he aided his efforts by a devout supplication. Accident favored the horse's footsteps, for striking the trail leading to the road he started off into a trot, and soon broke his rider's spell of terror, by turning into the main avenue leading to Benton. Edwards slowly passed his pimpled hand over his worse pimpled face, sadly remarking:—

“Last night's 'bills' all passed, for I bear their stinging signatures all over my countenance.”

When ten o'clock came, on the day following Judge Allen's arrival at Benton, the town swarmed with the southern constituency of Missouri, and as soon as the tavern bell, which had been put in requisition to announce the candidate's readiness, had ceased its clamor, Hoss mounted the balcony of the hotel, and rolling up his sleeves “spread himself” for an unusually brilliant effort.

“Boys!” shouted he, “I want your attention to matters of vital import—of oncommon moment, and replete with a nation's welfar.” Here looking down into the crowd at Sam Wilson, who was talking as loud as he could bellow, about an imported heifer he had just bought, Hoss called his attention: “Sam,” said he, “you'd better bring that heifer of your'n up here to address the meetin', and I'll wait till the animal gits through!” This raised a laugh on Sam, and Hoss proceeded. After dilating at some length on the imported candidate who was his antagonist, he “let himself out,” on some of the measures he advocated, and particularly dwelt on the fact that he went in for creating a license law on hunting varmints!

“Would you have the least mite of an idea, boys,” said Hoss, “that this creatur' of a faction wants to have every man's rifle stamped with the state arms, and then made pay a license to the state before he can git a bonus for wolf scalps.” [At this moment a shrill voice interrupted him again—a girl belonging to the hotel was shouting to a couple of youngsters, who had been despatched to the barn for eggs, to “quit suckin' them thar eggs or the candidates would stand a mighty small chance furthur dinner.”] “Jest tell that gall,” said Hoss, “to suck my share and stop her screamin.” He again continued: “I want to know what in yearth this Massissippi country's comin' too, when sich fellars finds favor with the people—what do you think of him boys?”

“Why, cuss his pictur!” was the general response from the bar hunters.

While Hoss was thus arousing public indignation against his antagonist, a stranger entered the crowd, and after listening a moment to the speaker's imaginary flights he interrupted him by shouting:—

“I deny your assertions, Judge Allen!”

This was a bomb shell, and the crowd cleared a space round the stranger, in expectation of a fight; but Allen after surveying the stranger, in whom he recognised his antagonist Edwards, coolly inquired why he disputed it?

“What, me!” shouted Edwards, “who can better declare your assertions false than the man you are misrepresenting—you know very well that I am that Judge Edwards!”

Hoss Allen turned calmly round to the crowd and said:—“Boys, you know I never git angry at a man insane or in liquor, and as I don't know this fellar, and never seed him afore in my life, its the best proof that he aint Jedge Eddards, so you'll oblige me by taking him off the ground and keeping him from disturbing the meeting.”

Expostulation was useless—without any ceremony he was carried into the hotel, boiling with indignation. There, however, he had to stay, at a convenient distance to hear that Allen was giving him “particular jesse.”

After the meeting adjourned three cheers were given for Hoss Allen, and all parties gathered into the bar to take a little fluid, and discuss the speech. Edwards having now been relieved from durance, started for Hoss;—burning inside with choler and smarting exteriorly from mosquito-bites,—he looked bitter.

“Do you say you don't know me, Judge Allen?” inquired he.

Hoss looked steadily at him, then coolly taking out his spectacles, he wiped the glasses, adjusted them upon his nose, and surveyed the questioner from head to foot, he then remarked:

“Thar is somethin' about your voice, and the clothes you ware, that I ought to know—Jedge Eddards wore a coat and kerseys exactly like your'n, but I'll swar he had a better lookin' face than you carry when we parted yesterday mornin'. If you are him you're been the wust used candidate I've seed in an age.”

“Yes,” responded Edwards, “thanks to that d—n nigger that sent me into the swamp. I tell you sir that I have passed a night to which the infernal regions are a scant pattern, and between mosquitoes, wolves, and wild-cats I should not be surprised if my hair had turned grey.”

“I begin to re-cognise you, now, Jedge,” said Hoss, in a sympathetic tone, “and no wonder I didn't know you at first sight—your head is swelled as big as a pumkin! I'll do the clean thing, Jedge,” said Hoss, starting for the balcony, “I'll apologise afore the boys, publicly, for not knowin' you.”

“No, no!” shouted Edwards, who knew his apology would only place his night's adventure in a more ridiculous light, “I don't demand any apology.” But he was too late, Hoss had already called the attention of the crowd.

“Boys,” said he, “as an honourable man who finds himself in the wrong, I am bound to apologise, publicly, to my friend Jedge Eddards,—the Jedge is a leetle changed in appearance since we wur last together, and I did not re-cognise him; I, tharfore, ask his pardon fur orderin' him off the ground.”

“I grant it!” shouted Edwards, glad here to wind up the apology, then turning round he added, “come boys, let us drink good friends.”

“Wait a minit, boys,” said Hoss, “the Jedge and I havin' smoothed that little marter over, I jest want to tell you why I didn't know him at fust sight. You all know that the mosquitoes in cedar swamp are an oreful hungry breed, and when they git a passenger they present him with numerous 'relief bills;' well I had gained considerable popularity in that swamp, by presentin' their condition before the legislatur' and askin' for reliet for the distressed inhabitants,—the Jedge, to head me down thar, passed all last night on a limb of one of the trees makin' stump speeches to the varmints, and you can see by his countenance that expectin' to be elected he has accepted all their mosquito bills!”

One tremendous shout rent the air, followed by bursts of laughter, from which Edwards retreated into the hotel. We have but to add that Hoss carried the Bar counties “as easy as rolling off a log!” His antagonist in vain tried to stem the tide of fun,—when he essayed to speak a m-e-o-w of a wild-cat or the hum of a mosquito imitated by some of his audience would be sure to set the rest sniggering, and spoil his effort.