-TV
VOL XV.
NEW BLOOMFIELD, IP.A., TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1881.
NO. 7.
- upsSr jiwv
r
THE TIMES.
in Independent Family Newspaper,
1 l-CMJSHIID BVBRT TUBSDAT BT
F. MORTIMER & CO.
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
f 1.50 PER YE Alt, POSTAGE FREE.
80 CTS. FOR 6 MONTHS.
To subscribers residing In this county, her
We have no postage to pav. a discount of 25 cents
from the above terms will be made If payment Is
made In advance.
W Advertising rates furnished upou applies
vlon.
A Good Squash Trade.
SQUIRE HAPGOOD bad the prettiest
daughter and biggest squash of auy
man in the town in which be resided.
His daughter was plump, buxom, and
eighteen, and bore the name Maggie.
Ills squash was of that variety known
as the Hubbard, and he intended to ex
hibit it at the ensuing autumnal Town
Fair, where be fondly hoped and be
lieved it would be awarded the first
premium.
On bis daughter and hi9 vegetable the
squire lavished all of his affection, but
alas 1 that my pen should record it the
vegetable got by far the larger part. He
loved Maggie as Brutus loved Ca?3ar, but
be loved the squash as Brutus loved
Rome.
Now, in my opinion, a pretty girl Is of
more value than a squash, however big
the latter may be; and so thought
Hiram Hardy. He was a young farmer,
and was a neighbor of the squire. He
was dead in love with Maggie, and Mag
gie was dead in love with him. He
visited her twice or thrice a week, but he
might about as well have staid at borne
for any pleasure that he derived from
bla visits. Not one time in twenty did
he get a chance to exchange more than
a dozen words with her. No sooner
would he make his appearance at her
home, than the squire would take him
out Into the garden to see " thatsquasb,"
and there he would keep him hour after
hour talking squash to him until his
brain would fairly reel.
At length, one day, Hiram was for
tunate enough to find his beloved alone.
Here was an opportunity to propose, and
he was not slow to avail himself of It.
Maggie, blushing and radiant, referred
him to her father.
That very evening Hiram called upon
the squire. He found tbe old gentle
man toasting his heels before a cheery
fire. Beside him stood a pitcher of
cider, and in his hands was his weekly
paper, a journal devoted to agriculture.
Hearing the young man enter, he lifted
his eyes from the page, first taking care
to mark his place with his finger.
" Howdedoo, Hiram Y" he cried in his
usual, loud, hearty voice, as he recog
olzed the visitor. " Take a cheer."
Hiram returned the salutation, and
then deposited himself in a chair which
Maggie hastened to bring him.
"Have some cider V". asked the old
man.
" Well, I don't care if I do," returned
Hiram, nothing loth.
Maggie filled a large tumbler with the
refreshing beverage, and handed it to
her lover, who drained it in a business
like manner.
"You've come just in the nick o'
time," said the squire, turning to his
paper.
" Eh ?" said Hiram.
" Just In time to hear an account of a
new-fangled way of killing squash-bugs.
I'll read it to you."
Hiram cast a despairing glance at his
charmer, and received asympathetio one
in return. Then he tipped his chair
against the wall, clasped his bands to
gether above his head, and resigned
hlmaelf to the inevitable.
Squire Hapgood prided himself on his
elocution. It was of a jerky, explosive
nature. Every word leaped from his lips
like a bomb from the mouth of a mor
tar. He paid no attention to the punc
tuation marks with which an article was
interspersed. He used but two stops, a
abort one and a long one. The former
ho used after every word, and the latter
whenever be wanted to clear bis throat
with a drink of cider.
The aocount of the new-fangled way
of killing squash-bugs was quite lengthy.
It took the squire a full half-hour to read
it. When he reached the end be turned
to bis visitor, and exclaimed,
" Now, what do you think o' that,
Hiram V"
Alas, poor Hiram I He knew not
what to say. He bad not been listening
to the article : he had been watching bis
sweetheart pare apples. But the old
man's eyes were upon him, and be had
to say something.
" I think that that" he stammered,
"I think that-that-that it's all moon
shine!" he ended, becoming desperate
and a little angry.
Without knowing it, he had hit the
nail squarely upon the head.
Squire Hupgood struck his knee em
phatically with bis band.
"You're right, Hiram," he cried ap
provlngly. " You've got some sense
about you, you have! It's all moon
shine ! The idee of putting plsou on.
thewines to kill tbe bug9 ! Why, it would
kill the vines, too. Any fool ought to
know that. That editor is a donkey !
I'll write to him to-morrow to Btop my
paper I I go in for the old-fashioned way
of killing squash-bugs, I do. Just catch
'em and mash their heads with a stone,
that's the way to kill squash-bugs !"
" That's so !" cried Hiram, recovering
bis self-possession, and winking, unper
eel ved by the old man, at Maggie.
Squire Hapgood laid down his paper,
and shoved his chair back from the fire.
- Hiram knew by sad experience what
was coming, and determined to make an
effort to prevent It by unfolding at once
the object of his visit. He hemmed two
or three times, and began,
" Squire Hapgood, I called here , to
night to"
" To see (hat squash. Yes, I know
you did. I was intending all along to
show it to you, but I thought you'd like
to hear me read that piece first. Maggie,
my boots," and the old man nimbly
kicked off bla slippers.
" Don't put on your boots squire. I
didn't come here to-night to see that
squash. I won't put you to the trou
ble" " No trouble at all. I'd as soon ac
commodate you as not. Maggie, my
hat."
"But, squire, it's darker than Egypt
out."
" Maggie, my lantern."
"And it rains, too. I can hear it beat
against the window."
" Maggie, my umbrella."
Hiram groaned, and gave up the con
test at once.
" Come along, Hiram," and out into
the garden they went.
"It's grown wonderfully since you
were here last : don't you think so?"
said the squire, as they came to a pause
beside the mammoth vegetable.
" Should n't have known it was the
same squash," said Hiram unblushingly.
" Come around and take a look at it
from this Bide. Jerusha! a'n't it a
monster, though ?"
"You bet!"
" Deacon Sykes thinks he's going to
take the first premium on squashes this
year, but he'll find himself most mightily
mistaken."
" That he will."
"His squash a'n't nowhere near as
big as this."
" Of course not."
"Just look at that stem, Hiram.
There's a stem for you !"
" I should say so."
" And just look at them vines. Did
you ever see the like V"
" No, never."
" They're as big as a hoe-handle."
"Full as big."
" What a lovely color it's got."
" Well, you 're right."
"I tell you, Hiram, it would take a
heap of money to buy that squash of
me."
" I suppose so."
" A hundred dollars would u't be uo
sort of a temptation."
" No, I suppose not."
" There a'n't a man in the town that
don't covet that squash."
" I believe you."
"You yourself would like to own it;
now wouldn't you, Hiram ?"
"Of course 1 should, squire, but
you've got something else that I'd much
rather have than that squash."
Squire Hapgood flashed the rays of his
old tin lantern full in the face of his
young companion, accompanying them
with a look of intense astonishment.
Hlrum began to grow red.
" Do you reely mean to say that I've
got something you'd rather have than
to have that squash V" demanded the
old man, thinking that perhaps his ears
bad deceived him.
"Yes, I do," said Hiram, shifting un
easily from foot to foot.
"Well, that beats me! Something
that you vally more than that squash!
What can It be? Do yju mean that
old speckled rooster with the lame leg V"
"Not"
" Then you must mean that old yaller
cow with thecrumpled horn. Well, my
boy, I don't blame you for taking a
shine to her, for she's reely a tiptop an
lmal. I don't want to sell her, and
would n't sell her to any one else; but
seeing you 've taken such a liking to her,
I don't know but what I'd part with her
to you, If we could agree upon the price.
Make me an offer."
" It a'n't your cow that I want,
Squire, It's your daughter," said Hiram,
coming directly to the point.
" My daughter V" "What! Maggie?"
" Yes, Maggie. I love her, and want
her to be my wife. Can I have her V"
"I can't spare Maggie, Hiram. She
be keerful, be keerful, you're stepping
on tbe vines, she helps me take care of
the squash. She helps me cover it up
cold nights so that the frost won't nip
it, and helps me keep an eye out day
times to see that no cattle don't break
in and eat it up."
" But you're going to take It to the
fair in a couple of weeks, and when that
is over you will of course put it in the
cellar. You won't need Maggie to take
care of it then. Can I have her then V"
" I shall need her all through the
winter to make squash pies."
" Well, can I have her In the spring ?"
" I shall need her in tbe spring to help
me plant squash-seeds. That squash
will have the wbopplnest sieds you ever
set eyes on, and from (hern next season
I'm going to raise a squash as much
whopplner than this as this is whop
piner than Deacon Sykes's."
" Can I have her a year from now ?"
"I shall need her a year from now
just as much as I do now."
" When can I have her V"
" Some time, Hiram, some time. But
don't be in a hurry. There 's plenty of
time. I can't spare Maggie yet a
while."
Hiram felt that it would' be useless to
press his suit further, and determined to
make Immediate tracks for home. He
bade the old mau good-night, and re
fusing an invitation to reenter the
house, took his departure.
" Confound the old fellow !" he solllo.
quized as he plodded along tbe muddy
road. " I'd like to wring bis old neck.
He thinks more of that old squash than
be does of his daughter. I should think
she would get tired of bearing him talk
so much about it. If I were in her
place I'd buy some of that poison he
was reading about to-night and sweeten
his coffee with it, I vow I would 1 Did
n't she look lovely to-night, though V
Ah, you may bet she did ! And must 1
wait a million years for her Just to
pleasj her old donkey of a father ? No,
sir! She shall be mine this very fall!
But how am I going to get her ? that's
the question. I must study up some
plan."
He fell to thinking.
Presently be clapped his hands to
gether, and cried jubilantly ,
"I have it! That'll bring .him to
terms if anything will! I'll do it this
very night. How lucky it is that it 's
so dark and rainy I"
Early the next morning Hiram went
over to Squire Hapgood'a to borrow a
hoe, ignoring the fact that he bad no
less than a half dozen of his own. He
found tbe squire in a high state of ex
citement. His squash had been stolen 1
Who had perpetrated the base deed ?
Tbe old man was confident that it was
Deacon Sykes!
" Ha has stolen it so that his squash
can take the premium at the fair," he
explained.
" Well, perhaps you're right, Squire,"
said Hiram, " and then again perhaps
you 're wrong. "It may be he, and it
may be somebody else 1 It's hard tell
Ing."
" I shall never see that squash again,"
moaned the old man.
" If 't was my squash that was stolen,
I think I should see it again. I have
never had anything stolen yet, but what
I succeeded In recovering it. I think if
I should set myself about it I could find
your squash."
Squire Hapgood grasped the young
man convulsively by the hand.
"Set yourself about it, Hiram; set
yourself about it!" he cried. "Find
that squash, and I'll give you"
He paused to consider what reward to
offer for the recovery of his treasure.
" Find that squash, and I'll give you
that cow you wanted to buy of me last
night," he said, after a moment's re
flection. "I don't want your cow, Squire, but
I'll find your squash If you'll give me
Maggie."
"I'll do it, Hiram."
" When will you give her to me V"
"Some"
" That won't do, Squire. I must have
her within a month."
" Find my squash, and you shall have
her within a month."
"Honor bright, Squire?"
"Honor bright, Hiram."
Tbe young man took his departure in
a high state of elation.
On the evening of the same day,
Hiram drove up to Squire Hapgood's
door with the missing vegetable in bis
wagon.
Oh, what a scene was there, my
countrymen! The squire embraced the
squash, and Hiram embraced Maggie.
It would be difficult to say which of tbe
two felt the more estatlc.
"Where did you find it, Hiram?"
asked the old man, when his transport
had begun to subside a little.
" Don't ask me, Squire. I can't tell
you. I've promised to hold my tongue
about it."
" You 'Jl tell me where you found it,
won't you ?" asked Maggie coaxlngly,
when she found herself alone with her
lover. ,
" If you '11 keep it a secret from your
father."
" I'll never breathe a word of it to
him."
" Well, then, I found it In one corner
of my barn floor, covered with straw !"
" Oh, you wicked"
What more Maggie was going to say I
am unable to inform the reader, for at
that precise moment Hiram stopped her
mouth with a kiss.
Two weeks later Squire Hapgood's
squash was awarded tbe first premium at
tbe Town Fair, and a few days subse
quent to that event Maggie Hapgood be
came Maggie Hardy.
An Editor Who Used His " PI."
ENGLAND can boast one editor at
least who might be trusted to run a
country newspaper in the United States
In bis youth Sir Richard Philips edit
ed and published a paper at Leicester,
England, called the Herald. One day
an article appeared in it, headed " Dutch
Mail," and added to it was an announce
ment that it had arrived too late for
translation, and had so been set up and
printed in the original. This wondrous
article drove half England crazy, and
for years the best Dutch scholars squab
bled and pored over it without being
able to arrive at any idea of what it
meant.
This famous " Dutch Mall" was in
reality only a "pi."
" Pi," it may as well be explained, is
a jumble of odd letters gathered up and
set on end so as to save their faces from
being scraped, to be distributed at the
leisure of the printer in their proper
places. Some letters are upside down,
often ten or twelve consonants or as
many vowels come together, and the
whole is peppered with punctuations,
dashes and so on until it might pass for
poetry by a lunatlo Choctaw. The story
Sir Richard tells of the particular "pi"
he had a whole hand in is this :
" One evening, before one of our pub.
licatlons, my men and a boy overturned
two or three columns of the paper in
type. We bad to get ready some way
for the coaches, which at four in the
morning, required 400 or 600 papers,
After every exertion we were short
nearly a column, but there stood on the
galleys a tempting column of "pi." It
suddenly struck me that this might be
called Dutch. I made up the column,
overcame the scruples of the foreman,
and so away the oountry edition went,
with its philological puzzle to worry the
honest agricultural reader's head. There
was plenty of time to set up a column of
plain English for the local edition."
Sir Richard tells of a man whom he
met in Nottingham, who for thirty-four
years preserved a copy of the Leicester
Herald, hoping that some day the letter
would be explained.
A Dangerous Advisor.
THE leading religious and fashionable
society of Cairo has been much dis
turbed by an atrocious series of crimes
just brought to light. There was a
sheik, much esteemed by the aristocracy
of the Egyptian capital for bis sanctity
as well as for his general wisdom and
his medical skill. Whenever any one
of the ladies moving in the highest
society was out of sorts, mentally or
physically, it was usual to have recourse
to this person, as a species of cross be
tween a spiritual and a medical adviser.
It appears that the wife of a high
Egyptian official visited the saint and
did not return. The husband became
alarmed and made the authorities search
the house. The good man was found
upon his small strip of carpet deep in
bis devotions.and rocking himself back
ward and forward upon bis knees. The
officials did not dare to disturb him, but
as soon as he finished he was asked
whither his-falr penitent had gone. At
first he denied all knowledge of her
whereabouts. But the officers insisted
upon searching tbe honse, and soon dis
covered her clothes. Further search
brought her jewels to light, and in the
garden was found a well filled with
corpses ; uppermost floated that of the
latest victim. The murder being thus
brought borne, the sheik confessed a
series of crimes which, for cool wick
edness, exceeds almost anything oa
record.
He was in the habit of calmly taking
stock of the jewelry which each of his
visitors wore, and then, when he found
that the amount was worth while, of
choking them with a scarf and conceal
ing their bodies in the well in his gar
den. Tbe explanation of the possibility
of carrying on such a nefarious trade is
quite curious. In many instances the
husbands of the missing women took it
for granted that they had eloped with
some favorite lover, and never thought
of accusing the holy man.
Curious things Revealed by the Census.
Among tbe curiosities of the census,
which has developed no end of curious
things, is a native of Arkansas who was
never twenty miles from his birthplace,
and never saw a locomotive, yet is still a
citizen of France, having been born in
Arkansas three years before tbe cession
of that territory to the United States in
1803. Another curiosity is an Alabama
giant, only twelve years of age, who
weighs 380 pounds, and is six feet in
height, while both his parents are of
medium size. Fulton county, Georgia,
furnishes, in the person of Mrs, Lavlnia
Cobb, a lady who has seen her five score
years and ten, but if we mistake not,
Missouri has a veteran who was born. In
1769, or four years In advance of the
venerable Lavlnia.
A Good Dog Story.
A dog owned by a man- near Macon,
Ga., is remarkable for his cuteness. The
dog is regularly sent after ice, or to car
ry notes or other errands. ' His master
has an account with the ice-man, and
sometimes, but not always, gives tbe
dog the money for the ice tied up in one
corner of a towel. Having no account
with the butcher, he always gives the
dog money when he sends him for a
piece of beef to feed him. One day the
dog was sent for ice, a uickel being given
him. When he reached tbe ice-depot,
he crouched down Into the gutter, un
tied tbe towel with hia teeth, scratched a
little hole in the ground, buried the
nickel, took the towel, went in and got
the ice on credit, and carried it back to
his master. Then he skipped to where
he had buried.the nickel, got it out, took
it took it to the butcher's, got his piece
of raw beef, and brazenly carried it into
the presence of his master before eating
it, that gentleman being under the im
pression that somebody had given the
dog the meat.