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Bed Biding Hood. See the pretty little maiden With the willow basket laden, Tripping gaily through the wood, Dressed in her Red Riding Hood. Alas! 'to see the lovely child By the wary wolf beguiled To cruel end ! Oh, that we could Avert thy fate! Red Riding Hood. Thou dreamest not of harm or wrong, Or that thy name shall live in song, While little maidens fair and good Shall weep for thee, Red Riding Hood. Clarleeaville, Ga. E. P. M. JACK DOBELL; Or, A Boys Adventures in Texas. A STORY FOR BOYS. INTRODUCTION. WAS seated at my office table one morning in the early spring of 1864, wri ting letters, when, answer ing a knock at my door with “walk in,” it opened, and a stranger —as I then supposed—en tered. lie advanced leisurely to il ward me, with a curious and some what quizzical look, and I bade him good morning and asked him to be seated. He still advanced, and I rose and held out my hand, for I was now convinced that he knew me, though I had forgotten him, and that he was not going to introduce himself. After taking a good look,_ as though to be sure of my identity, he asked, “Have you forgotten me?” “Bless me!” I cried out, “is this John -Dobell?” “I am he,” he answered; and we then shook hands heartily, for he was one of the friends of my early boyhood, whom 4 had not seen for more than twenty BURKE’S WEEKLY. years —had seen but once, indeed, since we parted as boys to complete our educa tion in different States. You may be sure we wore glad to meet each other. His health was poor; he had been cut off from his Texas home by the fall of Vicksburg; and he passed some weeks with me before he was able to return to duty. Os course I had him home with me, and we told over to my boys all the story of our early days. We told of our schools and school-masters ; of pur days passed in hunting and fishing; of our military encampment in the woods; of our shot tower, built high up in a beech tree; of boys we knew, and of the girls we loved ; and of a thousand other things which boys experience and men remember. My boys were greatly interested in the story of our military life, and the encamp ment on the “ Governor’s Branch.” Here a military company, of which Jack Do bell was captain, frequently passed the Saturdays, hunting in the -woods around and eating at our camp fire, or else build ing a mimic fort. Close by the branch, too, we dug a well some eight or ten feet deep. This branch issued from the “ Gov ernor’s Spring,” and close by our camp ran a path through the woods, along which Jack’s father frequently rode home from town when the sun was hot. The old gentleman was fond of a good story, and told them very often, we boys being the heroes. He used to tell, that, riding by our camp one day, he heard a hollow “ thud—thud —thuding,” seeming to come from the ground, which startled his horse. Looking around to see whence the mys terious sound proceeded, he observed a hole in the ground like a well, and press ing his horse toward it, he saw his son, Jack, —the other boys were out hunting —in it, stripped to his waist, and digging away as if for dear life. “Jack,” cried he, “what on earth are you doing there ?” Jack answered: “Nothing on earth, pappy, but I am digging a well in the earth for our camp.” “Fiddlesticks! what do you want a well for? There is a running branch not ten feet off.” “I know it, pappy,” answered Jack, “ but suppose the enemy were to cut off the water , what then ?” The old gentleman laughed heartily and rode on, laying up the story for tu tu re use. And so we told these stories to the boys; but John Dobell was able to add many more, of perilous adventure and hair-breadth escapes, for he had passed his later youth and most of his after life on the frontiers of Texas. The boys never tired of hearing him tell of his escape from the “Fannin Massacre,” and of his adventures in reaching the “white settlements,” and they would ask for this or that portion of the story over and again. So Mr. Dobell, having leisure for a few weeks, sat down and wrote out the story ; and he gave it to them to read, and it delighted them ; and to me to publish, if I saw proper. And I do think proper, for it is a very interesting story, and, moreover, it is a true story, for he was one of the very few survivors of that dreadful massacre of Texans we have mentioned, by their Mexican captors. Mr. Dobell, anticipating that the nar rative might be published in book form— which will be done hereafter—wrote the following PREFACE. This little story for the boys claims no other merit than that of being a faithful narrative of the events and incidents therein described. It was written, as the title purports, for the amusement and entertainment of the boys, and for the purpose of throwing some additionaldight upon a rather obscure portion of the his tory of Texas. If it should subserve to any extent either of these purposes, I shall be amply rewarded. I will here say to the boys, that however defective this story may be in point of literary merit, I think I can venture this much in its favor —that the events and incidents therein related are all true, to the best of my recollection, after the lapse of so many years. I will also say further, that if the boys should receive this little story with favor, I may at some future time publish for their amusement a longer and more en tertaining story to be called “The Ad ventures and Exploits of Big Foot Wal lace—the noted Texas Banger,”—provi ded lean get his consent to do so. These “ adventures and exploits ” I had from the mouth of “Big Foot” himplf, when we were messmates together in the Ban ger service, and they comprise a great number of fights, skirmishes, and hand to-hand conflicts with, and remarkable escapes from, the Mexicans, Indians, and wild beasts. Jack Dobell. AVe are sure that the boys will receive this announcement with pleasure; and il we can reach our friend, again on the frontier, by letter, we shall remind him of his promise. The story will be begun next week. Jack’s Friend. 43