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tom. I missed the fish, however, and in
stead of getting it, found myself soused,
head and ears, in water beyond my depth.
My uncle never laughed alofid, he was
too much of an Indian for that, but he
laughed inwardly as heartily as any
one, and when I was floundering in the
water, I saw his sides shake until the
tears came into his eyes. The other thing
I learned is, that in shooting at an object
under water you must aim much lower
than the place where it seems to be—how
much lower is to be learned only by prac
tice, or by seeing how much a spear or
arrow is bent by being dipped in the
water.
His son was a great trapper of squirrels
and opossums, oftentimes bringing homo
six or eight from his traps in a day ; and
though I admired the contrivance by
which he did this, I never could bring
myself to practice it. ITe would fasten
an ear of corn to a nicely set trigger at
the end of a rail, and just at the place
where the animal must sit to nibble, he
suspended a thin loop of tough wood, at
tached to a weight. The pulling or nib
bling at the ear let fall the weight, by
which the poor creature was squeezed to
death between the loop and the rail.
One day I went with my uncle to his
bear trap when it had caught a bear. It
was a large, hollow log, inside of which
were set some strong spikes of tough
wood, sharpened and arranged so that
although it was easy for a bear to push
his head into the log, he could not draw
it back, because the spikes pressed close
behind the ears, and were ready to enter
the flesh the moment it pulled against
them. The trap was baited with wild
honey, which the bear could smell but
could never reach. On the same plan he
caught wolves and panthers, baiting with
a piece of fresh venison.
But what amused me most at uncle
Way’s, although it was a small thing of
its kind, was his plan for catching terra
pins. Whenever they were to be seen in
any number floating on the surface of a
pond, he and his son would swim or wade
towards them, pushing very gently before
them a screen of leafy twigs, until they
were near enough to grasp the terrapin
by one of his out-spread hind legs, and
secure him in a bag.
My other uncle, as I told you, Uncle
Ridge, was a great “ medicine-man.’ He
studied no books, and learned under no
doctor. He followed his own head, and
took to the work by nature, but he would
sometimes work cures in which the white
doctors had failed. A case of this kind
occurred during one of my visits to him.
A white man, who had been for a long
BURKE’S WEEKLY.
time ailing with a dreadful ulcer, and
whose life the doctors despaired of, came
to him and asked if his sore could be
cured? My uncle looked at it, asked va
rious questions, and finally answered :
“ Yes, if you will let me tie you.”
“ I will let you do anything you please,
and will pay you anything you ask, if you
will only cure my leg,” the man said.
“Very well,” my uncle answered;
“come to me to-morrow as soon as your
shadow lies your own length on the
ground. I will promise to cure you, or I
will take no pay.”
The man came next day, as directed,
bringing a friend with him, and found my
uncle seated on a log by a fire, on which
was a pot of herbs stewing in deer’s tal
low, and close to it lay a piece of iron,
with one end lying in the coals. Besides
these nothing w r as to be seen, except some
thongs of deerskin. After allowing him
to rest, my uncle asked him, “ Are you
ready?” and he answered, “I am.”
“You consent that I shall tie you, and
do what I think to be right ?”
“I do.”.
“ You promise, if I cure you, to pay me
twenty dollars ?”
“I do.”
“ Then come to this post and put your
arms around it.”
The man looked a little pale, but he
did as he was directed, and was then tied
fast hand, foot and head, so that he could
not move, nor look at the fire that was
behind him. My uncle then took the iron
from the fire, which was heated not quite
red hot, came softly up and applied it to
the ulcer. The poor fellow roared and
screamed, and tried to break loose, but in
vain. My uncle kept moving the hot
iron up and down and around the ailing
part, until it was burnt as deep and as
far as it was sore. He then poured on
some cold water to allay the pain, and
anointed the part with a salve which had
been prepared, and said, as he loosed the
man,
“I did not know what the sore was
yesterday; but it is a burn to-day , and I
ca?i cure a burn." f
In the course of a week or ten days the
man felt so well that he paid his twenty
dollars and returned home.
A Little Boy’s Answer.
A little boy, when asking his mother
how many Gods there were, was correct
ly answered by his younger brother:
“ Why one, to-be-sure !”
“But how do you know that?”
“Because,” he replied, “God fills every
place, so there is no room for any other.”
Written for Burko’s Weekly.
A RASH ACT.
'TrW HERE was a wealthy
g en tleman —one of Po
cahontas’. descendants,
Jmjp was of a quick and im
petuous disposition.
He had a very large fine sow that
'f% he valued very highly, as her nu
merous pigs were the source of a
handsome income to him each year.—
However, she had a wicked practice of
eating all the young chickens that came
in her way. The gentleman was very
fond of his numerous broods of chickens,
and when any one reported that the sow
had been eating them, it enraged him
very much. In walking out one day he
saw her in full chase of a hen and chick
ens. He became so angry that, without
a moment’s reflection, lie rushed in the
house, seized his gun, and running back,
shot her dead.
As he stood and gazed at her dead body,
there came her litter of little pigs and
gathered around her. The strong man
bowed himself and actually wept as he
saw each little pig settle himself to his
accustomed place, and strive to draw
nourishment from h^dead body.
You little boys who are rash, let this
lesson serve to teach you forbearance and
moderation. ’Twould have been much
better to have removed her to some re
mote pasture, until her pigs had become
of sufficient size to have done without
her watchful care ; then, in the fall, to
have fattened her for pork. Don’t you
all think so ?
Mrs. S. E. Peck.
How to Get an Education.
Boys say often, “we want an education,
but we are poor, and father is poor, and
we can’t get it; so we are going to learn
a trade, or go into a store, or do some
thing else.” Now let me say, every boy
that wants an education, if ho will bend
his force to it, can get just as good an
one as he wants. The way is open. Edu
cation does not come through academies
and colleges, and seminaries; these are
helps, but it comes by study and reading,
and comparing. All the schools, and col
leges, and seminaries in the world will
not make a scholar of a man without
these; and with them a man will be one
if he never sees a college. The same is
true of girls, and what is true of this pur
suit is true of any other. The force must
be from yourself, and you must develope
it. It is that indomitable “I can,” that
sets a man astride the world.
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