vi' ! ; ' 4
'J 3
k -i i . i l-. .j r s . i r -i i i i i r a r"-j
to
il'.i, Editor and Publisher.
"HE IS A FUEEMATf wnOM THE TRUTH MAKES FREE, AND ALL ARE SLAVES BESIDE."
Terms, S2 per year, In advance.
IX.
EBENSBURG, PA., FRIDAY, AUGUST 27, 1875.
NUMBER 31.
i i :i: rts i:m rs.
0 610,000
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' 'ST-i'-t sti.t rmlily tiken by
1 v ! 1 i!'c tv In n ( hy sielann
i '' Iti tl:'- hntj nn i it.-e iti
t'. i-i' t trial. It-, n't let your
'' w i :i t;ii'l li I ii ; el. i u'v It .
TT'V s jin-l S'ir I'"i jiern
rririro.t imlvlv HAN
- " Market rl., P!ii'aleilnu.
I. I;rcK
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i , ; i - , w n. Pa. i
ti'i !toi!.' t i ire. Niwht
'-. 1..
' The Maid of Sparta.
My thoncrhti dollsrht to wnndst
'.n tills Immp'IiHte hor
Wlmre lovely, fair ami tender.
Is ehe whom I adore.
Way heaven, its blessings sparine,
On her bestow them free
The lov- ly inaiii of Sparta,
Who sweetly sings to mo.
ITal fortune flx'd my station.
In Some propitious hour.
The monarch of a nation
Endim'd with wealth and power
That wealth and flower sharing
My prerlpf queen should Xim
The lovely maid of parta,
Who sweetly sings to me.
Although t!.e restless ocr an.
May some day between its roar.
Yet while my heart has motion,
She'll lodue within its core;
For art!es and endenriivf;.
And mild and ymmj is she.
The lovely i.iald of P; arta
Vho 8f;6etly sings to me.
Wh n fate plv s intimation
That ray List hour is nigh,
With pi .cid resignation,
I'll lay me down and die;
Fo d hop-; t.i y ),o.oin cheering,
Tii t 1 I.i heaven shall see,
The lotly ri.iid of Sparta,
Who sweetly eit gs to roe.
A FSFJL9US COMPACT.
on pay. Ci'.tiin J;iek?cn, tlisit vou
have refive-l written instructions from
j-our owners by thrt last rn:iil ?"
, "Yef, sir, vpry partiosilap an l ppocific or-
l?rs loarding' the cargo wanted for tiie
! go id '..;j r.x-ot ter."
"If I t:n li'ivtur.d you arifht, the best
quality of fuel the tiust gl ade of teas
otilv, we wnt--i ?"
I
j "I'.xa'.-t'y, Mr. Fa'linsr. P;it why (Lt yo:i
j a-k 7 Are yoa unable to l nd the t-ii'p
I with the required (lottli'y ami friale of
I "We'll ee, in pood time, Jackson. Dut,
' I say, liTive yon ary objf.tion to my
1 glatieinjr ovt-r y-vir v.-rUt-n inf-trMi'tV.ns 7"
': "Certainly not; an I ;x yon aro to fiirnish
the car! L think It advi.-M.Me for you to
tho. o!i;-h!y tiii(.hi ?':itid wliat i.-i v. anted and
. what 1 am allowed to reeo: ve."
! The k-ri, cr iy ey-.o of Sir. Fni'ing were
fiL-tt ned intently ujun the we:itherleaen
connteiiani'e of the r?e-unau for a niornenf,
and Ihen in a eoft, inisinuatin tone, he
I ad.le-1 :
I "If yoti will crive me a boat, Jackson, I
I will pen 1 my China buy ashore for a cafe
of dry Monopolft. The weather ia warm,
and iced chainpaj-ne will net be clisayreea-
i ble.ehl"
"Hy no means; but it is a luxury we
' poor pai'ors seldom have the opportunity of
tatiijr," replied the er patn, with a eijh, aa
he though of Li.s far-oil wife and two little
babies.
The chimpac-rie was soon sparkling in
. the t-Iender irlasses, and the merchant
j ledt-ed the eailor and his noble ship in a
; biiiiiiirn; bumj-er.
I The Exporter was a fine clipper entrared
, in the China trade, 0"-' ed 1 y an opulent linn
1 who counted their J i lars by millions. The
tdiiT wa. rommrmdod by Captain Jackson,
i an expei ten i -e 1 fhipisi aster, but who had
. Iieen compelled to aoet-pt the irrindino; terms
of the paieiuioiiiotid owneia of the Ex
j porter.
) Captain Jackson had been unfortunate,
' and at the time he applied to the firm for
employment he was in debt, wish a wife
and family looking to h m for s;ipport
I He was not in a con iion to dictate terms,
but ventmed to remonstrate feebly at the
j inadequate salary offered for the amount of
property and responsibility he wad expwt-
e 1 to control ami look after,
j Wp can e-et plenty of shipmasters for
eighty doi.ars per month," was the cold,
harsh reply. "We do no not ask you to
accept it. Yuu come to us; if you demur,
another shall take ycu,' place."
Atid with a heavy heart the poor fellow
si-pied the articles, while the pale, suffering
I face of his wife roe up lefora him.
i The Exporter was lyinr off Shanf-hai
I waiting for the valuable and special cargo
1 whieh had leen ordei ed by mail.
The merchant, Mr. Failing, was on ltoard,
and aa has already been narrated, was tak
; ing- his cotnfut t iu the wide ppacioua cabin
of the vessel. ,
Glaes after pl.iss of champnerne had been
: q-taffed, the fragrant perfume of choice
cigars filled the cabin, and poor Jackson as
the petierous vintage ni'tri'ed to hid
brain, for a time forgot his troubles.
The letter lay on the table before Failing-,
who, with his hee!s perched on a pro
jecting cornice of the Oi-bin, smoked in
silence, while Jackson with a voiu",ility en
enlirely unnatural to him, poured into the
e.ns of Fu.iling' the euiire story of Ida
wrongs.
"Vou are not half paid that is certain,
' Jackson, and there is but lit'le chance to
make a dollar out of the main hatch. To
be sure you can do a little something with
the ptevedore, ship chandler, etc.; but after
all what does it amount to I J came out
heie to make a fortune Jackson; honestly il
I can, and thus far have no reason to com-
lain. B t you are situated differently.
You have no opjiortuuities, your life iu
passing- away", the greater ortion of it is
spent in biifi'eting the elements at eighty
dollars per month for what J that your
owneiv may reap hundreds of thousands of
dollars from your talents. Is that honest,
is it right or jtmt t No. And how will it
end t You are past the meridian of life.
and you say you are astern of the lighter.
l" r slnil t, sfi. "tV.'l I ow 1 ehull t-peak plain, Jackdou, too jlaln
perhaps; but fill your glass, man.' it has
been empty this half hour. As I said be
fore, every day will bring you nearer to
the grave, and the lest years of your life
ppent away from your family whom yon
love. Even supposing that no accident oc
curs to excite the wrath of the firm that
might cost you your jiosition, in due course
of time you will be worn out, feeble ard
acts on the part of Dunlavr cams anuer oof
notice.
The third day after th above incidents
took place we were eff duty. It had
threatened rain during the morning, and
the day proved dark and cloudy. Shortly
after noon one of our party, anxious to see
some specimens of the famed rifle shoot
ing of the West, took from his baggage a
finely-mounted powder-flask, which he
offered as a prize to the best shot.
There were half-a-dozen volunteers, and
the details were speedily arranged. Three
shots each were to be alle-wed, at one hun
dred and fifty paces, and the man whose
three shots made the shortest etiing, meas
uring from the centre of the bull's-eye, was
to receive the flask.
Jack Dunlaw and Stephen Rmney were
among the contestants. I had been quite
curious to see how these two persons would
mefct, but I noticed no change in the young
man's deportment. He spoke but little,
and when the list was arranged for the
precedence, voluntarily took the lnat place.
Then folding hi arms and leaning
against the doorway, b, carefully watched
the trial.
Jack was one of the rrt to try his skill,
and when three thoto ha 1 been tired it was
found that one of his bullets had struck
within an inch of the centie, while the other
two were not more than h.ilf an inch far
ther removed.
"Four ir.chP3 !" the surveyor announced,
after carefully rr.easurii.g thks distance cf
thr several shot?.
"Ya3," gTowled Jack, throwing himself
upon a bench; "I'll wait here till you
beat that, some on yer, p.nd tchen yer
dew it ye kin take that ther little powder-bo-x."
The ethers fired in their several turn?,
and our party was quite surprised to find
the shooting no more accurate. Indeed we
began to look with distrust upon the won
derful e'orif s of romance writers.
All had tired at last save Stephen
Ranney, and Jack had made much the
shortest string.
The young man took his place, anil
raised his rifle, which was considerably
shorter than any of the others.
"Look here, youngster," growled Jack,
with a wink to his admirers, "you'd better
have a pop-gun; that wouldn't hurt any
body, and you'd be jist as likely tew
hit the mark as yer will with that boy'8
plaything."
Stephen made no reply, but placing his
weapon in rest, bowed his cheek to the
breech, and the next moment the sharp re
port rang out.
"In the edge cf the bull's-eye, half an
inch from the centre P shouted the marker.
The beat shot yet"
"It's an accident ! He can't hit the board
next time !" cried Jack.
I saw from his manner that he was get
ting excited and angry ; but Stephen reload
ed his weapon in the most unconcerned man
ner imaginable. As he was about to fire.
Jack walked toward the target to mark the
effect of the shot.
It was given as promptly as the first, and
to the surprise of every one, it struck al
most exactly in the centre of the bull's-eye.
Bjt without waiting to hear the result,
Stephen turned to reload his piece.
With a stride like that of an enraged ele
phant, Jack Dunlaw moved up to the side
of his successful competitor.
"Don't ye dar' do that ag'in !" he hissed,
between his shut jaws. "If yer do, 'twill
be a hard day for yer. Now maik what I
tell yer ! I ain't goin to fool around no
upstart like you. Ye've made a lucky hit
twice; now let that end it !"
The young man made no answer; but I
saw his cheek become a shade paler, and
his hand a trifle less steady, as he rammed
home the bullet. Then, with lips tightly
compressed, and eyes fixed upon the target,
he dropped upon one knee, and leveled his
rifle.
Now don't yer make another mistake V
was Jack's last admonition, accompanied
by a shake of the fist so close to tho young
man's face that I began to feci like grasp
ing the bully from behind and dragging
him from the scene.
The third shot sped as the others had
done, and then the young man sprang to
his feet, dropping his rifle to the ground in
a manner which showed that patience had
nearly ceased to be his ruling virtue. Still
I could not anticipate the scenes which
were to follow.
The last bullet had struck just outside
the bull's eye, and after carefully measur
ing the three, Tom Tarbox, he who had
offered the prize, and kept the measure
ment, stepped up among the crowd now
gathered, and said :
"Gentlemen, Ir. Ranney has made the
best recoi-d, his three shots measuring but
two inches; so to him I give the flask, ac
cording to agreement."
He reached forth the prize as he spoke,
but before the young man could take it,
Jack snatched it from the surveyor's hand
and thrust it into his pocket. No one an
ticipated such a movement, and it was some
moments lefore Tarlxix recovered his self
possession so as to speak.
"The flask lelongs to Sir. Ranney," he
BaiJ. "Please let him have it."
"The flask belongs to me," retorted Jack.
"His shootin war all accidental. He only
futpifened to hit whar he did. But then, he
ken have the flask if he can git it, or ycu
either."
Tarbox bit his lip, and looked to the
other members of the party, undecided
how to act. Seeing his irresolution Ranney
etepjied forward, and said:
"Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Tarlxix,
The flask is mine, and I wili see to get
ting it."
"You will, eh I" snarled the bully. "Git
away from me out of arm's reach or 111
smash ye like a roast batef 1"
Thus speaking the giant swung his fists
about, but the yt ung man did not move.
Instead he received a bio- upon tho Lea j
which knocked away his hat, and seemed
to change his whole nature to that of a
young lion. With a strength and ag-nity
wholly unlooked for he dealt the giant a
fearful blow full upon the nose, which
knocked him to the ground, and deluged
the uncomely face and beard with torrents
of blood. There was a momentary strmr-
gle
ipon the ground after the bully
ieu, ana men tbtepiien stepped back a pace
or two.
In a moment the rufnan was upon hia
feet again, and with a fearful curse ho
placed h!s hand where he expected to find
a revoVer. But it was gone. Then he
sought for his knife, but that too was miss
ing. The young man had taken the pre
caution of removing them, eo that now the
two stood u jon equal ground. But what
a contrast ! Nine inches in height the
bully towered above his antagonist, while'
in actual weight he was more than twice
his equal.
There wan no parley or hesitation. Find
ing hitn.elf weaponless J.v,.k rushed for
the young man, and would have crushed
him in a deadly grasp, but the young man
did" not wait for the process. A qnick
fierce blow, falling just v. h.n-e the other
had fallen staggered the rascal, and be
fore he could see what had be -om e of the
man he supposed already in his grasp, a
tremendous crack in the ear brought him
again to the ground. Again he scrambled
to hia feet, and again he was knocked down
by a single reverberating blow. The third
time he arose, but before he could wipe the
blood from his eyes sufficiently to distin
guish his antagonist the hard earth again
became his bed.
This time he did not rlr-e immediately.
It was patent to every one before this
stage of the- encounter that he was over
matched for once, and at hist that fact
seemed to have become clear to his own
mind. Drawitig the flask from his pocket he
cast it irpou the ground muttering sav
agely: r 11 1 . 1 r. . .
"There's yer old flask !
want it so bad 1"
Take it if yer
Stephen stepped to the spot where the
coveted prize lay and picked it up, placing
it beside his rifle. Then turning to again
to the discomfited bully, who had now risen
to his feet, he continued.
"Jack Dunlaw, I am not done with you
yet A few days ago you brutally insulted
Cora Russell. I could have shot you dead
and I should have done it had I not pitied
you. Now you can take your choice go,
and on your knees ask her pardon, and
then quit this place forever or die where
you stand ! This quarrel is not of my
seeking, but now that you have begun it
take your choice. I give you three minutes
to decide."
A half-dozen watches were produced,
and the attention of our party was - divided
between their slowly-moving hands and the
excited group before us. At first it seemed
ast though Jack desired to renew the fight,
lie looked around upon those who had
leen his confederates, but their sympathy
hiid gone, and it was apparent that Stephen
Ranney had in a moment become the hero
of the occasion. Jack's eyes, too, were
nearly closed from the energetic blows he
had received, and his courage, if any he
had ever possessed, seemed to have gone
entirely.
A nod, a watch closed and returned to
the pocket of its owner, announced the ex
piration of the time. Not a. change of
muscle or expression passed over Ste
phen's features as he remarked:
"The time is up.-Jack Dunlaw; will you
live or die ?"
Jack looked around ence more and i'lbin
tiveiy asked:
"What do you say. boys !"
"Do as he Uli i yer," replied one who" "had
been Jack's most devoted supporter iu
times past.
The last hope scorned to leave the ron
temptible giant. In a voice weak awd
wavering he said:
"I'll leave, that orter satisfy ye."
"You will do what I said, or "
The sentence remained unspoken. Jack
Dunlaw bowed his head, and walked meek
ly away to make the required apology. I
did not follow, though many did. Five
minutes later I saw him, the blood washed
from his face, walking slowly away into
the forest. We did not see him again, nor
did he return to that station t my knowl
edge. The favor which Jaci. lost was trans
ferred to Stephen, and a"fine village, which
has since grown up there, liears to-day
the stamp of his quiet energy and courage.
It is surprising how many objects of in-
terest a boy who Is sent to weed potatoes
j will find in a day in a garden which he
; considers it his sacred duty to show to his
! mother forthwith. It seems to be a boy's
missian in life to work as plumbers do by
tho hour. . , ,
ALMOST A CENTENNIAL ROMANCE.
A YOUSO KENTUCKY HEROINE.
The Louisville Journal tells this story of
ninety-nine years ago. Sunday, July 14,
1776, just when the rudely-constructed fort j
at Boonsborongli lay in drowsy stillness on
the bank os the Kentucky river, Daniel j
Boone and his associate, Richard Callaway,
had been absent since early in the morning, j
and the good wives, sharers in the toil of j
the early pioneer days, were enjoying the j
rest that the Sabbath brought even to the J
unbroken wilderness. In the grateful shade
of the tree in one corner of the enclosure j
sat three young girls, just blooming into
womanhood, and giving an unwonted charm
to the rough evidences of civilization which
had but recently forced themselves upon
the primitive harmony of the surrounding
sceuery. The eldest of these maidens was
Elizabeth Callaway. The other girls wire
younger by two years and differed from her
in appearance. Fanny Callaway was fairer
than her sister Bctsj', but not more pleas
ing in appearance. The third girl, Jemi
ma Boone, was also naturally fair, and,
like Fanny, owed whatever fairness she
may have lost to constant exposure to the
weather. Nor were these two younger
maidens without their fmcics, too, for the
wilderness matures its occupants rapidly,
and, though but 14 years counted the lives
of the twojjirls, each had a lover; who was
a hardy and bold pioneer, and ready to en
counter any danger for bis lady love. As
evening drew near, the last lingering breath
of air seemed to lull itself to rest and the
July heat seemed to become more oppress
ive the quick ear of one of the girls caught
the sound of the river as its subdued mur
mur floated up over the bank, and she pro
posed that they should go a short distance
below the fort to where a canoe was lying,
and drift out upon the bosom of the river,
to catch the rising coolness of the evening
waters. Hardly were4 they seated, and
prepared to push from tho shore, when
they detected a slight rustle in the brush,
and in a momet.t more fi e stalwart and
hideously painted Indians leaped to the
side the canoe and pulled it close to the
shore. What girl of 10 could be equal to
such an emergency? " It was here that the
sentimental girl who had just been dream
ing of her absent lover, and wandering
through the realms of maiden fancy with
love-sick girls like herself, in an instant
converted herself into tho daring and har
dy woman of the frontier; it was here that
Betsy Callaway, without a momen's hesi
tation, determined to defend the honor and
the lives of herself and her young compan
ions, and wrote her name in the annals
of Kentucky. Standing erect in the canoe,
she seized the paddle, and at a single
blow laid open to the bone the head of
of the foremost savage. The other Indians
pressed on, but, still undaunted, the brave
girl fought them with the ferocity of a
mother protecting her young. Finally ex
hausted, she sank to the bottom of the ca
noe, and with her tremblingsisterand friend
was dragged ashore, and hurried off to
meet whatever fate migh be in store for
them. The consternation at the fort can
well be imagined. The fathers of the girls
soon returned, and, before the night closed
in, Daniel Roone, at the head of a party on
foot, and Richord Callaway, at the head of
a party on o back, were off in pursuit.
In Bixme's party were Samuel Henderson,
John Holder and Flanders Callaway. What
gave these youths such determined looks
and made them press on so eagerly? WTas
it only a knightly spirit that prompted
them to the rescue of forlorn and captured
damsels? Ah! as Samuel Henderson slnxle
along he was thinking of the olive-cheeked
heroine, Betsy Callaway ; and John Holder
clenched his hands and ground his teeth
w hen he thought of poor, little, frightened
v . vi..i. oh,.. ,it r
X illlitjr ? uim i iiiutiria v iid "aj tnimvi itu- i
got his kith and kin for thinking of his ! market was "away up." Nobody believed
captured Jemima Boone. When the In- iln, we,e f,eel' offcred and rkcn
dians slatted with the girls they made the ' lhAt ,,ierc was ntLig J The farmer
younger ones take off their shoes" and put ' kcrt taking the bets and sending his vie
on moccasins, hut Bctsv refused to take off ' ti,ns to tlic Srai dealer for t,,c Prouf UIltil
- ... T ti
her 6hoes, and as she walked along she
ground her heel into the soil to leave a trail.
Noticing this the Indians made the whole
party walk apart and deviate from the
course so as to wade through the water
and destroy the trail. Then the undaunted
Betsy broke off?twigs and dropped them
along the roid, never doubting for a mo
ment that her father and her lover would
soon be in hot pursuit of them ; and when
the savages threatened her with uplifted
tomahack if she persisted in this, she secret
ly tore off portions of her dress and dropped
them on the road.' Boone's party soon
found the trail and followed it rapidly,
fearing that the girls might grow weary and
be put to death. All Sunday night and all
Monday the pursuit waskept up. on Tues
day morning a slender column of smoke
was seen in the distance, and the experi
enced eye of the hunter at once detected
tho camp of the Indians. A serious diffi
culty now presented itself. How were the
captives to bo rescued without giving the
captors time to kill them ? There was but
little time for reflection, as the Indians
must quickly discover their presence. 1 he
white men were sure shotR, and so they
picked their men, fired upon them, and
rushed into the camp to the rescue. At
that moment, of attack the girls were sitting
at the foot of a tree, Betsy with a red ban
danna handkerchief thrown over her head,
while the beads of Faunie aud Jemima
were reclining in her lap. Betsy's olive
complexion came near serving her a bad
turn at this juncture, for one of the rescu
ing party Coming suddenly upon her mis-
took her for Rn Indian, arid was about to
knock her brains out with the butt of his :
rifle when a friendly hand intervened and
J saved the girl from meeting her death just '
at the moment when she saw liberty within
j her reach.
j The father and gallants carried their
j loved ones home in triumph, and this ro
I mance of real life in Kentucky a century
j ago would not be complete without the in
j formation that the dreams of love and hap
! piuess that were so cruelly disturbed nincty-
nine years ago this summer day were snb-
sequently ail realized. Brave lty Cal-
laway became Mrs. Samuel Henderson,
' and lived to tell the story of her capture to
: her children and her children's children.
: Little Fanny became Mrs. John Holder
j and Flanders Callaway took to his home
i Miss Jemima Boone, and thus cemented
the friendly ties of the Booties and Calla
ways. It is a long time ago, nigh on to a
hundred years, and all the actors in the
! romance have lonw since departed, but
their memory is gieen with many of us
yet, and we can all well afford to give a
few thoughts to the event that marked
their characters and the times in which
they lived-and loved.
Origin of the
takes a great man
WnEF.LnAKTWW. It
to do a little thing,
sometimes.
Who do you think invented that very
simple thing you call a wheelbarrow?
Why, no less a man than Lcouardo de
Vinci.
And who was he?
He was a musician, poet, painter, archi
tect, sculptor, physiologist engineer, natu
ral historian, botanist, anil inventor, all in
one. He wasn't a "Jack of all trades and
master of none, either. He was a real
master of many ai ts, and a practical worker
besides.
When did he live ?
Somewhere about the time that Colum
bus discovered America.
And where was he born ?
In the beautiful city of Florence, in
Italy.
Perhaps some of you may feel a little
better acquainted with him when 1 tell
you that it was Lconrdo de Vinci who
painted one of the greatest pictures in the
worid "The Last Supper," a picture that
has been copied many times, and engraved
in several styles, so that almost every one
has an idea of the arrangement and posi
tion at the table of the figuies of our Lord
and His disciples, though I am told that
without seeing the painting itself, no one
can form a notion of how grand and beau
tiful it is.
And only think of the thousands of poor
hardworking Americans who really own,
in their wheelbarrow, an original "work''
of Leonardo de Vinci.
A California exchange relates a story
about a solid old farmer who came into
j town, and learning thai wheat was being
! sold readily at two dollars and upwards,
i felt rather chagrined over the fact that lie
j had disposed of his crop the previous week
1 for $1,03. He told the commission mer
chant to whom he had sold his grain that,
in ismuch as he had made a good specula
tion on his former buy, he ought now to
pui chase the balance ot his crop at a good
round sum. Wfien asked how much wheat
he had left he replied, ''One sack," and
that he wanted the highest figure that had
been paid to anyliody this season, namely,
$2.50. The buyer immediately closed the
bargain and took the wheat. Our agricul
tural friend then strolled around town, and
stated that he had sold his wheat (he didn't
! say how much) at frj.ou, ana mat tiie
he gathered in about 70 in coin. It was
the sharpest wheat tiansaction of the sea
son, besides being a capital joke. The
I Pai t of ,he lattPr is tl,at "e of tl,e
victimized betting gentlemen is a clerk in
the house where the enormous sale was
made, and was sold for a larger sum than
the cereal.
J It was down in Georgia. Tncrc were
' three of them sitting like cast iron tobacco
: signs. "Here's goin' to be another' pnbli
kin paper her purty soon de fokes say,"
I said one. "An' all we niggers got t.
j 'scribe, kase de 'lection is coming nigh
; nnto hand," said another. "'Scribe noth
'ing ! said the third one, as he. loosened
up his cotton suspender ; "I'm done with
dis 'publikin business, I is. Didn't I hear
de preacher readin' in de Bible 'bout de
'publikins? Why, when de Lord hisself
was on de yearth dey used to sit in de high
places at, de front gates of de towns, an
take up taxes an' 'sessments from de fokes.
And now dese 'publikins doin' de same
ting, don't you see? Now, dey don't git
no more 'sessment ou ten dis nigger fur no
'lection, scribins, an' nothin' P
Empty indeed is the life of an old maid.
Never has she felt the maternal rapture of
tucking away two cuily-hcaded cherubs
and hear one say to the other, "Hands off,
Jim, or I'll butt you where you live !
SILAS II J visa ItUES.
HOW HE EXPECTED TO IX) IT, AND HOW HE
DIDN'.T
The old gentleman's name is Silas, and
that of his eldest sou is George ; his w ife'f
name is Matilda, and his three pretty
daughters are named Helen, Alice and Su
sie, there is a little Silas, too, and an older
boy whose name is too queer to mention.
The bees bad alighted in a great bunch,
as large as a ha'f-bushe! measure, on the
limb of a ieach-tree iu the yard. Ym all
know how it is done. A table is placed
nnder the overhanging limb, spread with a
clean, white cloth, and the hive placed
thereon.
Then one of the boys, one that is good
for nothing else, is sent into the tree with
a saw to sever the limb ; the limb comes
down slowly and easily, and the old geut
below, dressed in a great coat, buckskin
gloves, cowhide bots, and a bed quilt tied
around his neck and face, slyly manipulates
a twig from the tree, and in two minutes
has safely coaxed every bee to enter the
hive, during all of hich time Matilda and
Helen and Alice and Susie pound the bot
toms out of just four tin pans, -little Silas
does his prettiest yelling, while the boy
with the queer name is just old enough to
and sharp enough to slip behind the bouse
and wait for the thing to come to a point.
That is the way it ought to have gouc off;
but that isn't the way it did. Silas the
elder, was very comfoitably bundled up for
so warm a day, and be had his suit well
arranged, only he forg. t to tie strings
around the bottoms of his pants logs.
The bees had settled on the limb of a
peach tree, and Silr.s, when his table and
white cloth and hive were all ready, com
manded :
"Now, George, grab that old riisty saw
and climb ; I guess you cau cut that small
limb off easy enough."
George was jubt home from a six mouths'
term at school, and lie felt a great tender
ness for his father, and would have gone
through a patch of thistles barefoot to
please the old gent, and yet he had a par
ticular dread for the "business cud" .f a
bee, and particularly of such a crowd of
them. But he obeyed, and began to fiddle
away cautiously upon the particular limb.
One little bunch of bees dropped off, aud
were cagtd ; another and another small
bunch dropped, and the pn.si.ect seemed
gol, when suddenly an old fljouey maker,
who had been in the businci-s before, soared
upward. George shut up one eye quick,
gave one terrific surge on the old rusty saw,
got out of that tree at one ju np, and his
anxious mother caught one glimpse of him
as he flew around the coiner of the barn
twenty yards away.
But poor old Silas! The bees came
down, and he thought the bunch w as as big
as a haystack now. They did not go into
the hive, but they went through his ovei
coat and bed quilts as if these had been only
mosquito bars, and they climbed up the
inside of his pants legs and the old gent
danced as he had nevci danced before; and
he slapped his legs as he never allowed any
one else to slap them, a d his voice tow
ered high above the clatter of the tin pans
and the shrieks of little Silas as he yelled:
"Throw wa'er on me 1 throw water on
me, wet me dow n !"
He rolled three or four times over in the
grass, and sprang up shouting, "Slap me !
slap me I Can't you slap me?" in the
midst of which little Silas crept up behind
his infuriated pa and dealt him a lively one
with a shingle ; but pool little S.Ias landed
the next second against the milk house, for
his pa took him and his shingle foi a thous
and bees, and gently brushed them off.
O, the agony of that three minutes' jig.
He appealed to his wife.
"Matilda, for heaven's sake, bring me
another pair of breeches, won't you ?"
But these things don't last always any
more than any other happiness and after
a lew minutes the old gent came limping
out of the cellar with the breeches on that
Matilda brought him, feeling much easier
but certainly lurch fatigued, just as George
goL oacit irotn the barn and the boy w ith
the queer name slipped around the corner
of the house. Both boys were very anxious
to know how matters stood, and asked :
"Did you git 'em hived, pa?"
But the old man was teK mad to answer
or even look at his boys. He turned to
little Silas and said :
"Little one, you meant all right, and I'm
sorry I cuffed you so ; next time don't slap
so hard."
Then to his wife, "Matilda, to you I owe
j everything. Accept my heart felt grati
: tude. WVll take no more stock in le.
j I have mado up my mind, and it's settled.
May our quiet, peaceful farm home never
: be stirred up again. Seems to me I never
j uaa so much of life crowded into a few
short minutes before. Run after the cowa
now, boys ; be off, for it is almost dark."
He was milking the cow, "So !' he said,
gently, when she kicked the first time. On
the second he became less patronizing, and
yelled out, "II ! yon now !" Bnt wben
she raised her foot aloft and dejMs: e ' the
contents of the pail in his lap, he shrieked,
" your old hide!" and went for that
bovine with a pitchfork. The girl across
the way does the milking now.
WfiEN does a man keep his w owl ? When
no one will take it.