The Southern literary companion. (Newnan, Ga.) 1860-186?, August 08, 1860, Image 1

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The Southern literary companion., August 08, 1860, Image 1

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Newspaper Page TextJ|§o#ffe£# |§f iimttjj §|§oiH|mtt i oil m ... i-,; t. N. DAVIS, Sr., 1 Emrou and Proprietor. | VOL. I. Mi'U'c ti (1 Voi't vn. THE MAIDEN'S FIRST LOVE. Soft as the perfumed twilight br “ze, T:mt floits peirlv halls above ; Was the sweet trembling voice tint first Wo;.v in her heart th - dre-im of love. So gentle, guileless, pure md free, Ifer young heart owned the mystic power, And love dreams nestled rottnu her soul Like dew upon a sleeping flower. Oh ! she w t beautiful, her brow W is pur • as driven Alpine snow ; And her ><;’, rounded cheeks were tinged With bounty - : crimson ebbing glow. Her locks were silken, soft nnd bright ; And the sweet languor of her eyes W. s like the trembling twilight star Just paling in the quiet ski -. Hut he who woke this soft, sweet dream, Alas ! was false, and cold and vain ; And u 1 not .* broken hearty A wearv life of languid pain. II knew she love l him, w irmly, true, Ah ! loved him more than words tell ; And yet he crushed her trusting heart, And parted with a cold farewell. tie left her in her quiet home, To la.igui- h out a life of pain ; He left her with the parting word Th it they should never m •••t ag tin. Hu: others cam uid sougui to wiu Her from the memories of yore ; Hut, oli 1 the young heart once betrayed, Alas 1 alas ! would trust no more. He wandered nc ith a brighter sky, lu lands of beauty, wealth and art, And won the foml impassioned love Os many u young and noble heart; But she. that gentle trusting one, Too proud to murmur or complain, Lived out a weary, weary life, Hal never, never, breathed his name. & >v wv'/.vral auh\. „ nr- J V V H£N £ Y LA WEE NCE; VARIED SCENES OF LIFE. A Si DM AHO DT VBBB DY JAMB’ M. THOMPSON. Au'fiur of !\diric Sk !ch> “ Robber Glen,” “ l dil ’ I loom,” 44 Lioia,” Jj’c. CHAP I Ell IV. 14 They met with spirits damped and low A id x/iti was dad and tee.rful— A frown was gathering on /ii* brow ijo black and O—so fmcVul!” “ I wUI uot leave thee thus, (, no, O, no! Fly with me while tis not too into 1 come, couie 1” THE MEETING!—TIIF. RESULT. For some* time offer receiving the peremptory note of Michael Francis, Dr. Lawrence continued to walk the floor. His brows were knit, his lipd were com* pr >m and and ii.s br id chest rose and fell spasmodically. Hitherto he had looked on Francis in the li ;ht of an exccntric but true friend, and had been fluttered that he felt proud of the contemplated alliance with his fair ward ; hut now the j veil was removed from his eyes and lie flaw the man as he really was. It was a hard struggle which was going on in the breast of the young man ; —the struggle between pride and love. At length Law rence became master of his contending emotions. His features assumed their usual calm expression, and after a moment of deep thought, as if revolving sonic question carefully in his mind, he took his hat and left the room. Jt was yet qufte early and the sun stood like u groat globe of lire on the brow of •'Taylors Hidge, and fir and near Dry \ alley smiled back the welcome rays. The hum of the Oostanaula as it rushed over the stones and drills near iu banks, mingling with all the other sweet sounds aroused by the influences of morning smote the ear of Dr. Lawrence like the in lancholy chaut of funeral hells, lie walked rapidly along the ha.-as of the green hills towards Valley Home. As he did so, judge, reader, th various emo tions of his soul. The dew yet sparklet on the leaves and flowers ; the birds sang in the brunches above, hut he noticed them not. A weight was on his soul hearing it down, and, despite fiw apparent calmness, his heart beat violently. Dr. Lawrence had never before known what it was to Kulfer disappointment, or. to feel the cutting /tangs of pride so deeply wounded, lie had accustomed hiuiscli Hover to expect too much ; and one ot % AVccliln Journal K-Slmrtcil to literature, Arts anil Jswnrcjs, Agritnlturc, ifraqknc, &r. his most flucred maxims was “ have few I bosotn friends.” Disappointment, to one living thus, is a rare thing; and whore onus confidents are few, of course his chances for being deceived are less The young man walked slowly along | the shaded path with his eyes bent on the earth. Thoughts to which ho had : i heretofore been a stranger were mingling !in his brain. They were thoughts wild, vague and uncertain—thoughts upon which the beauties of nature’s birds, , brooks and flowers could make no ini press. As he hastened along with such self communion, his attention was attracted j toward a point a little to his left by the : sound of a foot-fall, on glancing uj 1 ho saw confronting him a tall, handsome jyouth. It did not taken second glance ! to assure I *r. Lawrence that his vis a vis 1 was, to him, an entire stranger. Only ! tor a moment stood the stranger, gazing into the eyes of our hero, then, with a slight bow, ho turned and disappeared in i the woods. ; Lawrence was not a little surprised at this, hut without giving a second thought to it, he resumed his walk. In a few moments ho reached a little knoll which overlooked a beautiful spring, which gurgled from a rent in a beetling rock, and which had been greatly beautified by a former owner. It now belonged to the estate of Michael Francis. It was, indeed, a lovely spot The brown rock hanging above; the limpid water gurgling benath ; the tall oaks and branching elms surround ing it, gave the place a romantic, and exceedingly beautiful appeavatioe. .lust ; then, however, there was something ; which attracted the attention of Dr. I ■nvrenca yuovo than all the beauties, inanimate, which the kind hand of nature h i placed there. Half reclining on th< sleep, mossy hank beside the pool, which was at some little distance from the point where the water issued forth, sat Annabel Foster, pale and motionless. Her soft i blue eyes were looking down into the depth of the water with a steadfast earnestness which added to the deep despair of her countenance. Her hands, white as parian marble, bung listlessly at !i, r sides, and, indued, her whole look and attitude was one of the deepest melancholy. Henry Lawrence gazed for some time on the sad hut lovely face, then he advanc ed toward the spring. .So utterly absorb ed was the maiden with her own thoughts, that she was not aware of the approach of Lawrence until he stood beside Iter. “ Annabel,” as be spoke bis voice was calm atol passionless. “ Henry—” and the fair girl started to her feet. A rich glow suffused, for a -ingle moment, the delicate cheeks ; hut only for a moment, and then it left a j more deadly pallor than had reigned there before. She sank again to the earth without another word, while Dr. Lawrence’ stood gazing earnestly into Her large mournful eyes. Were those eyes : deceitful ? llis very soul an.wored nay. lie could see the old look of tender affec tion still there. - “Annabel, y,:i lind*ine, 1 know you j do!” cried Lawrence earnestly, throwing; himself on one knee before her and Ink. ing her lair little hands in his own. “ Say you do !” A look of the most in tense anguish for a moment mantled the iiiec of Annabel, but she answered not. “ Vou will not answer me ; —you do not love me! o—Hod this is cliild ish,” as be spoke, the face of Lawrence changed, instantly, from a soft, pleading look, to one of rigid sternness. “ I will j strive to forget my love—” “ Hold Henry—<>, for my sake do not j speak so !’’ cried Annabel interrupting him. “ llow can I forbear when you treat me so coldly ?” asked the young man in j a milder tone. “ 1 know that you know all Henry ;j for had not my —uiy —guardian told mol so, I would have known it by your JonksJ He has commanded mo to —to —to del this; hut O I it wrings my very heart 1” 1 “And is pot your love to me sttongoX than the fear of an angry guardian ?■ iskod Lawrence bitterly. % fl “ Vou know it is—but lie has me isl In- power. Jie has forbidden me to -peak with you.” “ Hut you will not surely bow to a mean miser's will ?” ‘•TRULY THE LIGHT IS SWEET, AND A PLEASANT THING IT IS FOR THE EYES TO BEHOLD THE SIN.” X I*\VXAX, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, AUG-1 ST s, ISdO. ” Vou know that 1 am yet a minor in years.” “ Yes, yes, but T have enough for us both, fly with mo and we may yet be happy!” “ 1 love you Henry—but I will uot do . that.” There was something in the voice and manner of Annabel which caused Law renee to start, Khc spoke vehemently, aye determinedly, lie bad never before | seen her so rigidly stern, She continu ! ed :—- - No —I had rather die than do wrong, and a concealed marriage has always seemed wrong to me. No—l will follow the commands f my lawful guardian till my ago of self-government is attained and then —” “ You will he my wife 1” “ If you do as my guardian has ordered and—” “ And see you no more for four long years 1” interrupted Lawrence in an im ploring tone. “ Yes,” answered Annabel firmly. Lawrence felt that the course proposed by Annabel was the only alternative, so he tried to feel spirit-lightened, and with vows of life-long constancy they parted. It must have been a hitter thought; that of parting for so long a time 1 Hut love is stronger than death. CHAPTER V. “ I (one was the Arch Fiend in tinman shnpe The o/hrr was a bird of the same feather — They cnmnuineii close and held their heads together.” V VISITOR AT VAI.I.KY IIOMK I BROVCIIISO THK srnjta t, and the sum. pi ot : —a tors which FRANCIS HAD NOT BAUUAINKD FOR. Human nature is a difficult but interest- 1 ing study. There is a wide field and a i thorny one ever open for labor in the 1 science of “dispositions and natural bent of mind ” to any one who has the courage to attempt to enter it. In the most com mon character there are traits and modes of action to be found no where beside, and i chequered panorama is the most simple disposition. We never find two persons constituted alike mentally or physically ; yet we can see such a close proximity to \act likeness that we are able to classify and arrange them under separate heads. Thus the stealthy thief who performs his sneaking work alone, and in the dark ; has the morose temperament, the cring ing tread, the evasive eye and the restless features; indeed, the very “thief-look,” to use a common term; and you may catch a score and each one will have these characteristics to a greater or less extent. We do not mean that they will be in the least alike in personal, external appearance; but that if you will inquire into their habits, independent of theft, you will in every ease find they will resemble greatly. V man’s associations from Ihh habits and his habits, influence, nay, rule bis con science. We might go on farther and delineate the characteristics of the murderer, the drunkard, the gambler and all the vicious characters which infest our little world, but it i- sufficient for our purpose to give the habits and most striking features of the miser. No—we will not grow tedious, i We will not tell over what has been told so many tunes. You have alt seen a miser with his old wrinkled face twisted stingily up into a net-work of dry rolls ; with his little keen eyes cutting fiercely about and a constant save-a-penuy work ing about his claw-like fingers ! Yes— you liavo all seen him j but there is another race of misers. A race equally u- mean as the other, but not so stingy to si!/'! A race whose only aim is gold, and whose only way to spend it is to ; make self comfortable, Mir haul Francis was nearly of this class. His mdy re ! deeming trait was his wish to render what : he considered lasting good to his ward, Annabel Foster. Tho people of Edcnton | called him a “ mean old miserly hog,” and, so far as bis cleverness to them was i Foster thrown on his liandsto protect ! and shelter as a child. This was at first ran irksome task to Michael Francis l.sq ; • | but the sweet, artless manners of the fair girl made their impress on evi a his heart, 1 1 and he soon became a much attached to | her as it was possible kn|vi.n tp be to any , : one. He had not trt* first opposed the j : suit of Henry Lawrence ; lot he instantly : saw that the two young people wore i greatly attached to each other ; but when ’ the idea struck bill) ot marrying bis ward to a wealthy city gentleman he at one, determined to forbid farther companion-j ship. We have seen how this plan has worked, now let us go forward and watch things about Valley Home for a while. The visitor had arrived. Mr. .luhn| Warner the ex-banker of Augusta bad deposited his baggage, at thckj£p*>kevJ House!*’and was hilUSt T elf ■ _ ~ sn -+v I with Michael Francis, l.sq on the cnlun ade of Valley Horn.’. lie had hail a formal introduction to Miss Foster as an old friend of her guardian, and Francis was enjoying ■hiim-ejf Ini.: !y. He sat ‘opposite to his friend, mil lr e seen how easily Warner swayed tL conversa tion, he woulThave said, at once, that ho s held a powerful influence over hi- host, “ 1 say, Francis, why do you live here iu this new corner rather than in the city ? asked Warner during their evening convcrsastion. “O—l don't know, without it is he cause it is so noisy and dusty in the oily. 1 like retirement.” “ Pshaw! man, just think of clubs, suppers, lectures and—and all the amu si mails of the city. I have thought often of the happy times we used to have to ’ gotlicr when you were an “ Attorney at ,j Law,” nnd 1 was a Veit’.’, ess'mer ; they were happy and. lys .Hwfeu’i I” “ Aye—-they were ; but dohn I eouldu t take much real satisiaeiioii in that way now, I'm too old, and he .ides 1 have hi-, all pride in such amusements ” “ Tut, tut, inan, you would like them just as well ax ever, should you try tie in again.” “1 think not, John ; and besides 1 vu forgotten cavils especially—that game, you know, used to suit ii< hvst! ’ “That’s a fact, we did love cards ; hut you’re surely mistaken about having for forgotten seven up, that's what we used to play get), idly,” “ Well 1 don’t know, I hav'n’t played in fifteen years.” “ Well, the best way to find out is to try,” said Warner blandly. “ Aye, but 1 have no cards. If I had we’d take a game just for fun —no betting.” “ Then we’ll have the game. T have cards which 1 brought with me on pur pose to amuse myself.” “ Come in then, and we'll haven game or two with our wine,” So saying Michael Francis led the way to the room which he thought most eon venieut, and ordered a servant to bring wine. The order was promptly obeyed and pretty soon the friends were hand ling cards and drinking champagne in a merry mood. Several games were played with various luck, and the wine was sipped freely. Finally after an unusually hard game whietr terminated in favor ot Francis, Warner said : “ Now suppose that I should bet two hundred thousand dollars against your land estate, and negroes here; jets sec who'd win V • - “ Agreed,” said Francis, and the cards were dealt. Each took a glass of wine before look ing at his cards, and then the game began. “ Ha, ha. ha, ha ! —l’d a raked in your money too easy 1” cried Francis as the game came out his. “Well, 1 didn't lose anything; hut Michael this don't look much as if yon had forgotten cards!” “ Humph ! f always could beat you Mdlta? \ Ml *o, I tli •unlit tlii*. cm :mi;r sli. protticflt 1 ever saw.” was just what Michael I’rai.ci wished for, aii'l firing about hall fuddled with llis stroim )>ntaturns he was not lotilt in letting Warner know his plans. lie told him of his having stopped the suit of Dr. Lawrence, and of his lecture !to Annabel, lie told him how lie had thought what a splendid match it would jhe Ibr his ward to marry him—John Warner —and last of all he told him that lie had made Annabel his heir to the ex tent of a hundred thousand dollars, and h ! just suited John Warner; for he it known ’ ho had left Augusta on the sj-ecial err.n. I ... j of getting into his possession a few thou sand of Francis’ hoarded dollars. 11 knew well how to operate, and hi” ’ brought the cards for this express purpose i Now he saw a double chance, and he in | tended to improve it. It would be too j foolish a trick to let the money go —and then Annabel was sueh ft pretty girl too >o thought the ex-cashier. Michael Francis, however, had no thoughts of let ting the money go so lung ns he liu 1 but he said nothing of this. 41 llut what if the girl will not con sent ? ” nskod Warm r. “ By .Jove! —but she shall consent !” answered Francis. For a few moments Warner gazed fi\ edly iu the face of his friend; then In said iu a low tone: £ ‘ Don’t speak so loud, wc may he over heard.” No danger of that we’re alone.” “ But Michael, what if this !■■ ‘nr • wind of our proceedings, wouldn't it tx asperate him?” This was ai lin a cun Otis tone of voice ; and any one who line seen the speaker’s faee would have seen there marks of fear. To tell the truth, John Warncl* was notorious as a cowan• ftl. i. in.* VlV’ and, and the least appv.lu u sion of n personal combat, set him int. fits of i** u;Uii._’, “ No-—no —no,” answerrd Francis wh, was well acquainted with his friend's fail ing, “ not a hit of danger of that ! ” “ ()f his getting mad ?” “ No- -of hi.- finding out our plans.” “ 0 well, just so fi> don’t try to intei sere we can work it.” “ W t ‘/f icot ic if <my In-tc I “ cried Francis fiercely, * By the Heavens! \m will do it! ” £ * But if I marry your ward how much w ill 1 get with her ? you know I tdway look to that!” “ Didn t I say that Anna should in ! herit a hundred thousand ? ” u Aye—hut that don’t come mur !” Old Michael Francis Lap, sat, silen: and musing, for s -me time, Presently he said : Well, John, I’ll say ten thousand nowaml the other at my death. How does that suit you ? ” “ () - I’m easy to suit you know !” 11 Exactly: well, now for another gnine. What say you?” “I’m agreeable:- it your deal f believe.” Old Francis took the cards and sat with them in his hand for a moment as it thinking; then lie said iu a bantering tone :—• 44 What say you, John, to a little stake this bout ? ” “ Willing, perfectly willing, what shall it be?” “ Say—suppose that wc put up ten thousand as that is what you get down with the girl; I’ll put upas much against the debt?” “AH right, deal the cards!” The two men were getting quite, drunk. and their eyes looked red and fiery. Those of Michael Francis, I'sq., wen gloaming almost with savage anxiety. ‘i ho game was soon ended, and it ended in favor of Mh hu< 1 Franl -j .! Let’s double the bet for another game!” cried the winner eagerly. “ All light ! ” Was the Cool reply. The game was played and ended as before in favor of Francis. “ Double again J” cried the greedy winner. “All right! goon,” returned Warner. Had a close observer been standing by. he could not have failed to notice the cunning gleam which began to play about the iueo of the ex-cashier. He had been heating the game and now he intended t make the spring. Jn a few moments tin F'-FV pro in the centre of the table and Jobik Warner had won forty thousand dollars. “Doublethe wager!” persisted Francis. The game was played and Warner had won eighty thousand. “Double the bet!” cried Franpis. A noth • r game was soon ended and Warner bad won again. “ Double it again! ” “ Hold, Francis, that would beggar you .-hould you lose ! ” 44 Never mind,” persisted tho other. “ this is the last game !” It was played and Francis lest ! 44 Look you now, Francis, 1 have won ill khi pn>sess, and you are a beggar .Vow listen; —I will give back all 1 have ■ won if you will comply with, one emidi ion,” said Warner in a low but firm tone ; he knew his man. “And what is tho oondttion?” cried tho now sobered and Trembling Francis. ■ i’he whole truth rushed to his brain at | mice, ami lie know all. lie had been windled on- • more by W arner. Tho term is this,” said Warner. •* that you give me, as soon as 1 am mar ried with your ward, a hundred thousand dollars, and th it you make h r your sole heir, and bequeath to her all your proper ty.” “That will be a heavy draw ou my - state,” muttered Francis. “ Very v\o!l if you had nitber I’d tak all, well and good,” replied tho other. But you -diall not take all ! I’ll cut out your black heart Hist!” ycilal the infu fiate Francis. “Hold —n..t so f.i, : ! I’ve fixed for that! I brought a man alon, with me,expressly iradomy lighting; ami now if you just, of r t<> resist my taking possession of this my jnt ‘.rrfy, and do nut, at once, cithei iccede to my proposition, or give up to -no the full amount of tin* last wager, I’ll nave you buried before day-light!” “S’ death ! hi- it come to this? ” Make your choice, sir, you sec I don’t .Var i/t.'H, if I am u coward!” Warner ’ ti 1 tlii-v in a low deadly voice, ut the same .ime drawing o umte and l n- it in tin* light till it flashed murder uisly in the eyes of Francis. “ I 11 have to accept, your proposition,” cplicd Francis, for he well knew that to ( (‘use would 1 . instant death from the coward's hand, who, b ing inflamed with wine, and having the advantage, was really dangerous. As for the tale of his having brought an accomplice from the city, he knew not what to believe—-per haps it. was true. At all events Francis Imped to put Warner off by fair promises, and the thought top-most m his mind was how he should put him out of the way. lie revolved the murderous intent ,u ills mind till it was matured, and till ilie mode of accomplishing it was resolv ed on. “ Now,” said Warner, after a few mo ments of silence, “let's have our contract iu black and white so that no mistake may occur ” 44 Francis cringed at tliis, but ho could not net round it, and the agreement was written in due form. So much good had come of tho plnn niu;. -us Michael Francis I.up,! | u HE oontiner:r>.] •* ♦- [By Request.') SUT LOVENGOOD’S SHIRT av Sr. 1, np TRSSESSSK. Tim first Person I met was “Silt,” (:>!t ■)• no-siny; the lliawassee,) “waving ami imivitte along in llis usual rambling, uncertain gait, llis appearance at one, satisfied me that something was wrong. He had boon sick, whipped iu a free fight, or was just outgrowing one of llis big drunks. Hut upon this point I was soon enlightened. “ Why, Sut. wind's wrong now?” “Heap's wrong; dnrn me skin if 1 aiiit most dead. Litoofl that lions, (leorge, and take a horn, while I take two, (shale ing that everlasting lla-k of his at me. an’ plant yerself on tliatar’ log, tin’ I’ll tell ye es I ken, hut it’s most beyond tollin'. 1 reckon I’m the darmlest fool out on I ‘taw sfept my dad, for ho acted hosss, and I liaint dun that yet — allots in some (rap that cudcnt ketch a sheep I‘ll drown myself sum day, see if 1 don’t just to stop a family dispersition to tnak, d— d fools on themselves.” “ llow is it, Sut, have you been heat playing cards, or drinking, which is it ? “ Naru one ; that can’t he did in those parts ; hut seein’ it’s you, George, I'll toll ->u ; but 1 swar I’m shamed—rsii'k sorry and—mad—l am. “ Ye know I hoard* with Hill Car, at his cabin on the mountain, and pays fu sieli ass gets when 1 hev money, an’ when 1 hcvent any lie takes one-third f TWO DOLLARS A YHAII ( Ixvariaui.v in Advance. oaten me in eus.-in ; ami she that's his wife, Hots, takes out tether two-tlerds with the battlin’ stick, and the intrust with her tongue, and the iutrust’g uior'n the principal’ a heap wore. She’s the eussedist otiian 1 ever seed any how, for ! jaw, broodin’ and pride. She cm oM a i blister onto a hull's faee rite i . nrl in two mini Is. Sl|e outhived ,• ,>n the river, and patterns art, ,:\ I ion she hears tell on, from busst'is vo hritehes. (Hi! she's one of ’em, and ! sometimes she’s tvv,, or three. W ell you i see, 1 got .'oiiic hum iiinde rottou truck tiv , make anew shirt outeu, and eoaxed Hots to make it, and about the time it were dun here comes lawyer Johnson along | and lived tern breakfus—-1 wish it had j pizeued him, durn his hide, and 1 wonder i it dido t, tor she cooks awful mixings when she tries. I'm pizeu proof, my self,'’ , holding up his flask and peeping through it.) “or 1 ,1 been dead long ago.” “ Well while we Were a eaten, she spied out that his shirt was still’ an’ mighty slick ; so she never rested till she worm'd it outeu him that a preparation of flour did it; and she got a few particulars about the proceeding outeu him by Oman's arts I don't know how sho did it, perhaps lir does. Alter lie left, sho ot in an’ boiled a big pot of paste nigh onto a peek ot it. and soused in my shirt and let it soak awhile, then she tuck it an’ ironed it nut Hal and dry, and sot it tip oil hi- aid o agin the cabin in the sun. ‘I liar It stood as stiff ns a dry boss hide, and it rattled like a sheet of iron, it did. it were pasted together all over. When I cum to dinner natl.iu’ wud do hut must put it on. Well, Hots an’ me got tlie thing open artel* some hard work, she pulling at one of the taiis and me at the (other, an’ 1 got into it. Durn tho everlasting new tangled short, 1 say, 1 felt like I had crawled into uu old ho gutil an’ hit full of pi splits; hut it wore like lawyer Johnson’s stud it like a man, and went to work to build Hots an ash hopper. I worked powerful hard and swet like a boss, and when the short got wet it quit its huntin', I “ .Utel Aarß. dull 1 look about four lingers reu head, amt crawled up into tin? union loft to take a suuze, “ Well, when 1 waked up 1 to, n ht 1 was del, had the eh,tlery, tiir all tho joints 1 could move vver my ankles, wrists, knees —couldn't even move my head, and skasoly wink my eyes—the cussed short was pasted last onto me all over, from the pint of the tails to the pint, of the hroad-ax collar over my ears. It sot to me as close as a poor eow dues to her hide in March. 1 squirmed and strained till I sorter got it broke at tho shoulders and elbows, and then I dono the dainde.-t foolish thing ever did iu these mountains. I shuffled my britches oil and tore loose from my hide about two inches us the tail around, in much p„in and tribulation. Oh! hut it did hurt! Then 1 took up a plank outeu the hd’t and hung my legs down through the hole, and nailed the aidge of the front tail to the floor before me, and the hind tail I nailed t,i the plank wot 1 sot ou. I unbuttoned the collar and rishamls, raised my hands away above my head, shut up my eyes, said grace and jumped through to the ground flora.” Hero Sut remarked sadly: “ George, I'm a danuler fool than evor dad was, boss, hornets, an’ all. l')J drown myself sum of these days, and see es I don't.” “ Well, go on, Sut ; did the shirt eomo off? ” “ I 1 h ink it d—i—d. I beam a noise soter like tarin a shingle oil <>v a house at oust, and felt like my bonus were all that reached the finer. 1 staggered to my feet and took a look at my short. The nails had all hilt their holt and dar it were hanging, anus down, inside out, and us stiff tr ever. -It looks like tin* map of Mexico just aricr i, u of the first battles—a patch uv my hide about the size of a dollar and a huulf hill here ; a bunch of my liar, about the size of a bird's nest tlinr; then sum more -kin ; then some paste; then a little more bar; then sk: i and so on all over tho darned new t ingle 1, evorlnsting, internal cuss of a short, it was a picture to look at —an’ so was I. The hide, liar and paste were about equally decided atweeil mo nnd hit. Wonder what Hots, darn her, thort wliuii she cum home and found me missing. Spools she thinks I crawled into a thicket and died of my wounds. It must have shared her good, for 1 tell you it looked like the skin of some wild beast torn off alive, or a hag what ■ had harried a load of fresh beef froig a shooting match. “ Now, George, if over I ketch tjiat lawyer Johnson out I‘ll shoot him, and il ever all ’omaii talks about flut'nin’ a short for mo again, dmti ii)y cvorla-tiii’ picture ■f l don't flatten her. “ Its ritfihuliou -art hi, the biggest kind of a preuelier's regular ritribution. Du you remember my driving of dad through that hornet a nest and then raoiijg us him inter tho kreck ?” “ Yes.” “ Well, this is what comes of it. I'll drown myself some of these days, see es I lon’t —of I don't die from that awful short. Take a horn, and dont vou try a aticky shert as long as you live.” NO. ’2O.