May 29, 1844, Wednesday.

About mid-morning on a partly cloudy day (overcast, but it probably wouldn't ran a drop, much to the frustration of farmers), Jim Tanner was sweeping the front steps of the 'Peace and Poverty', whistling a tune to himself. The words went like this:

I'm sitting on the stile, Mary,

Where we sat side by side,

On a bright morning long ago,

When first you were my bride.

The corn was springing fresh and green,

And the lark sang loud and high

And the red was on thy lip Mary…

Jim's musical reverie was interrupted by the sight of two men and a dog walking up the middle of the street headed west. One carried a long rifle – one of the men, that is. The dog wasn't carrying anything.

I'll bet there's an emigrant train coming, thought Jim, and he was right.

'Ko-o, Boss! Come, Boss!' urged the driver of the first wagon, a big Conestoga affair pulled by a team of oxen. A stream of six wagons followed behind, pulled by teams of oxen or horses, with men, women, and children inside. The emigrant train proceeded until it filled Brookville's main street, then stopped. Shopkeepers ran to see if they had any customers, especially those with signs advertising 'Cakes and Beer (1 cent each).' People got out to stretch their legs.

Jim set out a bucket of spring water with a dipper, in case anyone needed a drink other than small beer or whiskey, and got into conversation with one of the men while he helped him to water his oxen. 'Where are you all headed?' he asked.

'The Far West – Ohio,' was the reply. 'They say there's good farmland there.'

'That's what I've heard. Where do you come from?'

'Ireland, originally – County Mayo. But lately from Philadelphia. Couldn't stay there, though. The place is terrible dangerous for Irish these days.'

'Why is that?' Jim wanted to know.

'Haven't you heard? Riots! The Bible Riot a few weeks ago was the last straw. I packed us up and found a train going West. It's them Nativists.'

'But why a Bible riot?'

'They said the Cat'lics was tryin' to get the Bible out of the schools, which is a damn lie. We was only tryin' to say our kiddies should read our own Bible, not the Protestant one.'

'That sounds fair to me,' said Jim, who until this moment hadn't known there was more than one Bible in English. German he knew about, and could read a bit. 'I'm sorry that happened. Was much damage done?'

'Two churches completely destroyed. They had to call out the militia! I wasn't waitin' around for them to drag us out of our beds at night. So I packed up the wife and kids, and we're off to Ohio. I hope they'll be friendlier there, if they ain't too many wild Injuns and bears.' Jim wished him luck with the bears, but opined that the Indians had been pretty quiet since the Black Hawk War.

When the wagons pulled out again with a 'Ko-o-o, Boss!', Jim sat down to study the broadsheet one of the emigrant train guides had left him. It concerned the 'Bible Riots', but Jim didn't think it was exactly unbiased in its presentation.

It may be sung to the tune of Back Side of Albany.

You Native Americans, I pray you lend an ear,

Till I relate a sorrowful ditty;

Concerning your Fathers and your Brothers most dear,

Who were murdered by a popish banditti.

It was on the sixth of May, that memorable day,

Which the Widows and the Orphans may remember,

In the year forty-four, which was crimsoned with the gore,

Of those noble hearted Bible defenders.

It went on like this for twelve more stanzas. 'Each one as bad as the other,' commented Jim to himself. He didn't think the songwriter should quit his day job. Also, he suspected that the 'Native Americans' referred to were not from the Lenape tribe. 'More likely the Mac-Something tribe.' He shook his head. He was glad he was in the 'barbarian West' rather than in 'civilised Philadelphia'.

'We might not have cobblestones, and the wolves may howl at night, but I'd rather deal with hog-stealing bears than mean crowds,' was Jim's conclusion. And then he remembered that he had some garden work to do for Mrs Gallagher, so he went off to do it.

Dmitri Gheorgheni