THE DEMOCRAT. MONTROSE, PA., JAN. 31, 1877. THE BALLAD OF DEACON CLAPP. "How. now, I How now ! good resident Of ancient Podunk town, Why are thy lips compressed in wrath, Why wears thy brow such frown ? Why on the streets do the citizens Pace restless up and down, And why does each one grit his teeth . I • At the name of Mister Brown ?" 11. "0, this Mister Brown is a miner bronzed, From the wilds of Oregon, • He sitteth on yon tavern bar From dusk even unto dawn, Suck tt game of Seven-Up as he plays The sun bath never shone on, And all the dollars of Podunk town • Into his pouch have gone. "It's not for the money that's lost That we do deeply sigh, 'Tie the , lowered renown of Podunk town s . That tills with tears each eye. Alas ! that an infidel Mister Brown Should smite us hip and thigh, And say with a sneer, 'How is this yere, (As he plays the Ace) for High r' "The landlord jolly, the hostler good, The,ztege-coaoh driver free, The roaster who in the old school-house, Teacheth the yongidee.— Yea, all the players of podunk town • Of note that there may be, - All have gone down • before Mister. Brown, Who eaith 'You are meat for me !" V. "Alas ! that ever on Podunk town • There fell such sore mishap, - That flaunteth the infidel Mister Brown Such a feather in his cap ; We have no player of renown But only Deacon Clapp, And he for our calamity • Cares not, he saitb, a rap. • VI. "The. Deacon he site in his fold red house, And quaffs the 'Medford rum ; His yea is yea, and his nay is nay, And his strongesi.oath 'I vum,' Tradition's tongue saith when he was young At Seven-Up he was 'some" But vainly we implore bin now . To our rehef to come.' ' • VLL • But, hark ! what means that rush of feet, What means that wild "hoorah ?" • Why to the tavern cloth the crowd Resistless press its way ? Who yOnder driieth up the Street - All in his one horse shay ? Wildly. may Podunk town repeat • "Tan DEACON' BAYS lIVLL 'FLAY ! I" VIII. Be pulled up at the tavern q door, That deacon gray and grim ; . Unto, the bitching post he tied His steed so gaunt of limb ; Vpon.the tavern-stoop'he climbed— Or, as Podunk calls it, "slim "And turned him 'round and-to the throng H. thus delivered him • "Brethren, I've lived for threescore years f-InAhis good Podunk town ; tatlters and my children in : :Ton graveyard I've laid down •So Podunk town is dear to me; • ' Dear to me is, her renown, -And for her saki) the lists I'll •take 1 Against this Mister Brown.- - .„- "Your Macedonian cry I've heard, Your deep distress I've seen, And I will play... Mister Brown this day The best out of thirteen. Rut it 'Swore said that I had played Or in a tavern been, • Then I should smirch the fame of the Church. lad - scandal 't were, I Veen. • • • Xl. ° ~ "134) let no foot while that I play, Witlun the tavern come ; . Offend - ine not with wink of eye Or voice's heedless hum ; Put on •the table, a tumbler and. ~ ' king of Medford rum, • Audi will table Mister Brown . 2 And fetch tim in, I vum. I" , • XIL They close and-lock the tavern-dbor, • And stand respectful. back, Silent as death each citizen 'Oh expectatiOn's rack . ; !!bile the- Deacon's o.nrly•headed son • He.peeps in at a crack, And:gives the men ot Podunk town Tittingi of the attach. : And Mister Brown first takes a game, 'Artd . there is•a moan of woe ; And then.the Deacon beggeth one, • . Having both high and low, And gettethit,und with jack and game, Triumphant out doth go, Whereat-the rejoicing throng without cheer wildly _in dumb show. Netrer such well-matched champions met -In , conflict close I ween ; • At four• and four, and five and , five Mill equal they have been ; , "The most intense excitement prevailed;" - Said the "local," ons the scene, de they tiegari" the deciding game-- • The last of the thirteen I - The Deacon's' ourly-heads son Back from the crack doth reel, And he cries aloud in a voice so shrill It almost is a squeal "Whet won ?" "Who's- won ?" "is:.the game-doper - • "Quick I quick 1 the #uth reveal 1" Re shrieks ': "The gone stands six - and six, • And',Dad has got,the deal i" Then burst froth that great concourse *shout the hills gave back ;' They swarmed upon_ the tavern-stoop, • They peeped in at the crack ; • ',They saw the Deacon shuffle; then • the-stranger cut , the pack, • _ And the Deacon grim he winked at kiln, And dealt, and turned the jack .7—.lVeze York World. Lou baVe a son, I would advise, est- his free-prospects in the !tate you Iri a Ou. would have him in the.Statato rise, : =1 ) Stead of Grotius let him' `studriEloyle, I. Arid it he shows a turn for pretty tricks, Indulge the bent ; ' 411. dextrous cut may rule some grgiat event, 'LW aetaikecipack'make bitri *President, PClet - out your sled itrid sheep Skirt robe, • Hitch up old epizoot, • : retch him wipeAloug *be spine, .. And let the anhual skoot." CRAZY MAG. k BY CHARLES L. IKKNETTI. VAMILIAR to the 'days-of my child- I! hood, and one still to be seen when my steps tread my native village, the form and features Of Crazy Mag, sharply defined by her sorrow_ and years of neglect, rise up and claim an emotion of pity. ' Often and often have I, with' book-satchel idly pendant by 'my side, watched the poor woman as sbe sat by the front.window of the house where friendly sympathy had placed her. Now silent as if musing on the past, and . the next moment rising from her seat and peering out of the window, or coming,to the door and look ing down the street to the Tillage ' Crazy Mag was an object of yonder to the childish mind, of . interest to my youth, and now, in my manhood, still claims my attention. As.no one has as yet re corded the story of her years, it grew up on me to do justice to her in' the only way I could,and gip her history to those doubting ones who say that woman's af fection, worthily or unworthily bestowed is as shcirt4ived as a flower. - Maggie Wild was the youngest child 'of one well-to-do, in a worldly point of view, and therefore .a - person of some prominence in our little Western village. His opinion, thus backed by wealth, car ried with it considerable weight, and in the managemeht of affairs in the place, he getierally took , the most prominent part, the rest yielding as though it was a matter of course to one of his standing and influence. And so, by virtue of her position, Maggie Wild was in 'the "first circle" of our village, and, by virtue of her beauty, she was the cynosure of all eyes at all social gatherings. At her shrine kn e lt' the young men of promise in our village, and, wherever she went, there sure too, followed the numberless admirers, of. the tilue eyes, and—(yes, we must , Write it) —the brilliant prospects of Maggie Wild. About this time, when Maggie's seven teenth birthday came around ; "our vil .la7„e" was agitated by the consideration of a question affecting the "young,folks." ShOuld ‘here be, or , should there not be a school, was the point to be decided. The society of the place was in a ferment in relation to the affair. Everybody was asking everybody's opinion, :aud it was hard telling how the scale would fall. Bat at last, Maggie Wild's father was called upon for his opinion, and more than one felt that on this opinion hinged the failure or success Of the school pro j • ect. Hezekiah said he . would take time to consider the matter, so while, he was "taking time," the question took a rest ing spell, though the tongues of the gos sips were not allowed the same privilege, in consequence of Anew thought and in quiry suggested, by the discussion. If decided upon, who should conduct the sChbol? Did the village contain any person coMpetent to the task On this topic opinions.were numerous, and some of them in .no way, shape or manner complimentary to the persons whose : names were used in said connection.' But while Hezekiah "took time" there 'Citime to the, tillage a young 'man of pre possessing appearance, an engaging ad dress, and possessed of conversational abilities of no mean order. He professed •tO he a isojourner from the arduous duties of a collage student, - searching, during vacation, for , that. ease and comfort de nied hitn, when within the' precinCts:of° the temple of knowledge. As a matter of course, - Hezekiah Wild was-one of the , first to Whom he' was intrOduCed.. ,The.' stranger soon succeeded in securing the .good opinion of : the rough old man, and,. of-course, ,was 800 U • on intimate terms with the family. , , The uPshot of all this was a.favorable opinion from Hezekiah` -Wild in the mat ter of a school together -with 'a rPcom mendation that Edward Carroll (so the stranger called himself) be engaged.lis teacher, at twelve dollars' month and board. This "opinion" settled thematter. Before two weeks haul elapsed "our village" had its school with a fair array. of urchins, under the mental care of Ed-: ward Carroll. It is true, the achool•room and its appurtenances were of the . most primitive condition, and 'only 'Effie rudi • meats" were expected to be instilleri into the minds of the "rising generation" of the place., But this, at the time of our story, was Cotsiderable of an event; so that the school, its teachingi, its con ditions, and its prospeCts, became a fruit ful theme for gossip and conjecture in the village. , • And before a month had passed, Ed ward Carrell won "-olden opinions" from all sorts of people. He wasliolite to the old and kind to the young; he had a ready ear for the -farmer with his yarn about the crops,- a d also for .the old lady .whose • tongue n ver ceased ;when her "ailing" Was a subject on :which she could converse with the "schoolmaster." The maidens, too, the Smiling fair ones of our village, were in raptures over his intent gence,-his affability, and his politeness. His - voice WAS musical, and soon it was heard in the choir of the . village church 'on Sabbath ;" and, as winder was approach ing, there began some whispering about having a singing school among the young men and niaidene, foci , few were found who were not fayorable,to the subject. , But all tliis:while,:the 'reader may ask, where is'; Maggie Wild ? Cares she for any Of the doings fn "our village ?" one day, one of her companions chanced to speak to her about a rumor that was running throughlhe village.. And though Maggie stontly denied it,' the crimson tide that man tied: her fair face, - the merry twinkle of the old mares eyes, who chanced to be a listener to the query, sent her away with the speed of a fawn to her own' room. itso?" eagerly inquired Maggie's friend of the smiling father. And ltezekiah answered, "Yes--Lhave given my consent." So this was the summing up of the whole matter. We will not atop give the particulars of die wooing. Maggie was soon won by the engaging manners of the young man, and his words were as smooth 'as oil and sweet as honey, as they fell in silvery accents from his lips. And when he asked her hand it was given with all her woman's trust. Mag .gie gave herself up completely to the de liciousness of her first love, her , whole "soul centred in the affection for the man she had chosen to be her companion during the years of earth's pilgrimage. Her heart bounded with exultation at the happiness in prospect, far all was bright and sunny in the futurr When the harvest moon looked down ill. her magnificence upon the fruitful earth, Maggie-Wild and Edward Carroll stood in the little aisle that faced the pulpit of the village church, and all' who were within its walls listened to the bri- dal vows of as fair a maiden and hand some a lover as ever "the oldest inhabi tant" had seen. All through that winter, happiness, was in- the heart of Maggie, the school•mas ter's bride. Fairly worshiping • .the one she called husband, her thoughts and her actions tended to one . goal, centred upon one object. And he, of a truth seemed worthy of 'all ihis.adoration. But the footprints ,of the snow faded from the face of the earth, and again the flowers eruiled, the rivulet sang, and the blossoms, like signals of coming cheer, were hung upon the "outer wall of the trees so lately deriolate of foliage .or flower. The air was - full of sunshine, of i lmelody, - and of rare odors. "Our village" was but little changed by the wand of winter. And of those in the place, &taggie, least of all, was changed. As happy as the blue birds whose twitter was heard, the whole day long, she came and went among her as sodiatei, with face enwreathed in smiles and' voice soft and gentle. as the murmur ing dove's. . One day as Edward Carroll sat'nt the "master's deik," there passed a pale faced woman with a young child in her arms. And as. he saw her, his face grew white as the wall, and his limbs shook as though the . ague, was upon *him. Ten minutes afterwards roe might have seen him speeding in a direction opposite from that iu -Which. the woman went. Ale stopped. ati .the home .of his bride.and mentioned that a matter of importance would require his absence perhapti that afternoon - and' evening. - .Then, • secretly securing what money be bad in . the house about his person, and Wilzig "Maggie" w,ach for his speedy return, Edward Car roll left:the house. Thafafternoon, that evening, and that night passed, but Edward Carroll did not return. On the morrow= a strange story ran from lip to lip through "our viliage. 7 ' It reached the ears of Hezekiah Wild, ,and it made' him set , his "teeth firm, and tclerch. his hands with' rage. At first le , would not believe it, but. there appeared before him a,woman with a young child in her arms, and she said, with tears fall ing all the while : "Before God, Ed ward Carroll is niy huliband, and am his wife." And as tho _doubting -- man ! looked in the face of thOrnother and the, child,. he saw candor on the careworn visage of the one, and. read the endorse ment of the story in the lineaments of the other. But just al the Old. man wasp about to bid the woman go on in herl search for the villian whii had thus de- . strayed the happiness of his home, an other actor appeared upon the scene 7-- -. even Maggie, . who' demanded What this . story was the woman tcld. 'lt had reach ed' her ears, but her loving heart would not credit'a worl Again. the woman's simple tale was told, but ere it ended,the lorsaken wife had swooned:. Time passed, , Edward.. 'Carroll came not back. Maggie, a month or two after i his flight, gave birth to a babe; but its sojouyn in this world was 'short: ' life was scarce six days old. Over Maggie, a fearful change came. An illneseof months reanited in .trans forming her from a . blooming bride into one whose mind was unsettled: Reason had' been dethroned by the.fearful Shook, and she went back and 'forth with - but one question upon her tongue. This was, "Is he come ?" and she would sit, and watch for the coming of the false one night and day, shedding no tears and taking but little notice of things trans ; piring around her. : As years passed, this ,state of idiocy became settled: And soon; ;one by one, her father, mother and brothers passed away from the active scenes Of life, until, at last the poor girl became dependent upon the chartty of 'friends. But still she waited the coming of the false one. You could - not shake her be lief of his entire innocence, and at last this was given tip; she was led to cherish the belief that hie absence was unavoid able and that he would soon return - . ;As then, so now:: With her beauty , gone, ber intellect departed—her Youth - among the things of - .'the, - past—her sweet, - net name changed by.thn.leareles . s. into that of Crazy Mag, Ethe "traits and watches?' 11.er.affgctionis still as ~deqv as when „Oft bridal.tow,was Spoken ; her ; love as.strong as thbrigh — ceruented by , years 601api),if ness'instead of years of misery. • its,then,'so now. :But it will tot be so long. The - frail — telieilierit is cram and noon it - will pass away.-...11eT epitaph will be brief, but it will tell all. "She loved, she suffered, and then died." And" by.azid-by, her• name and ber st9ry will be forgotten. I lON Ilir Doffing on a Certainty. Hirain*Jtobinson was a rich and jolly bachelor: ',During the entiler, with fiv ers' of hie friends for company, he kspt bachelor's hall in the country.. One aftfr noon, us they sat smoking after dinner, Jim Clark, one of Hiram 's guests, cop mented on the beauty of a new dinMit table which the latter had recently put. chased. • I "It's the finest black.walnut I eter saw," said Jim, "and the only fault have to find with the table is this—it's just a little zoo high. Don't you think so Hiram:?". "No; I dcin't," said. Hiram. On ihe contrary, if J anything, I consider it a shade too low:' "You're mistaken, my dear fellow, Itve an excellent eye, and I am sure thi4 I'm right. A table shouldn't exceed two feet five, and that is . at least, one inch high ez." "I'll bet you," said, Hiram, "that Ws only twenty-nine inches high.' . "Don't bet, Hiram—l'm sure of it; for : my eyes, as I have reason to know, are always correct." "I'll,bet you fifty dollars, Jim, that Ws only twenty-nine. inches high." "Oh, if you're willing Hiram, I'll take the bet; but 1 .tell you beforehand that rni certain the table is at least thirty inches high." • Hiram left the room to get a yard measure, and when he returned, Jim laughed and said : • "Hiram,. you 'may :save yourself the trouble of measuring. I ttened yOu faith fully that I bet-on a certainty,-so the-bet must be binding?! "Of course, Jim, ; if yOu're right I'll pay the money oser at once." "Well, then, fork over the Coin. I meas ured the table this very moking, and it's just.thirty inches high ;" and. Jim burst into a fit of laughter. •"I know you did," said Hiram I "‘for saw you , do it; and knowing what a pen-. Mad yOu had for. practical jokes, I im mediately suspected your object. As soon as you. left the house I sent for a carpenter and had 'an inch sawed Qtr every leg; so, you see, my dear friend Jim, that the biter has been bitten. Hind over the cash." , . • Jim. paid Hiram:the fifty dollars amid the laughter of everybody but himself., Touched Her. Heart. Yesterday morning a woman living on Napoleon street was seen on the walk in fiont of the gate, heaving the snow right and left, and she ban only got fairly settled to' work when .a. toy lounged - up and remarked "I'll clear off the wnllE for ten cente " I guess I'm able to do it," shears plied. "But see how it looks," he continued. "Here you are, a perfect lady in look and action, highly edticated, and yet you grovel in the dust, as it were, to save the pitiful sum , of, ten tents." - • "You grovel along and mind your own business, - she -curtly replied; •still dig ging away. It's :worth ten eents,"-he said is he leaned against the _fence, "bat •Pm a feller with tome sentiment in my bosom. Now, We'll say five' cents, or just enough to cover wear aod tear of my ''bones.Give me the shovel and you go in, get on your seal skin sacque and best jewelry, and while Lwork you stand oukbere and boss-around, and talk as if yeti-owned the biggest half of . North America, while I had nothing. and, was:in debt for that" She. looked at blip sharply, saw that he waa in earnest, and ,who she passed ovef•the snow-shovel she put two.nickels into his hand. He - looked* after her as she wentin, and:then sadly, mused. "Oh IRlattery,.'thy surest victim is a woman 'homely enough for a scare-orow." Old• Ist on the Negro's , Franchise: A gentleman at r the ,lotel, after read ing that only 900 Negroes t in Fulton county were entitled to vcte, asked old Si; "Why don't-m_ ore of the colored pea-- plc vcte in this county Kase dey hezn't bin up- ter 'CaPtln's offiis an' put down de sugah ?" "I don't quite understand?' Igney-hgn't pade der pole taxes; dat's what's de Whtter I" "Ah,yes, and why doiet they pay the poll tax, -it is only one dollar?" ."Fustly, 'kase de dollars are not so hindy ez dey mought be, an' Round, 'haw ob de dog tax princerpullyl" Talndeed, - and would a man prefer a dog to his vote ?" "I sees, sah,dat you is a stranger down heab, an' I has <