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® chool * tea °ber goes round an* tolla
^* b ye. an* then goes back home agin
relr w ,8 ’ an L ' he d ? n ‘‘ °°me any more in
fhrt fail, u T as bere tb * 8 3 aminer, an* him an*
imiu u had P owerful times. I reckon he‘ll
him ba ^*F nex* y®ar, an* ef you uns want to see
film, an have a big jollerfication time of it, jest
e then, an* make Ellic Ramsay’s house
youra as long as you want to. So this is all I
know ‘bout the teacher.’
Do yon know anything of Mr. Reville's life
previous to the time when he first earns to this
community ?’ anxiously inquired Montgomery.
‘I never hearn of him afore he come to teach
school,* replied Ramsay.
Although the travelers had learned something
of ReviRe's general character, they felt very
much disappointed when they found that Ram
say knew nothing of his former history. There
was, however, another character, even more in
teresting than his, of whom they hoped to gain
some information—the veritable ‘Aunt Penny
Lemon. * Living on the road whioh they knew
this lady sometimes traveled, they had good
reasons for thinking that the Ramsay's knew
something of her, the strange cosmopolite around
whosr character so much mystery clustered.
Mr. Montgomery enquired about her with an
anxiety he was careful to conceal.
‘Do you,* asked he. know anything of a lady
whose name is Lemon, an* who sometimes trav
els this way when going tc market?*
‘Do I know her?' exclaimed Ramsay in aston
ishment. -Why, I don't know any body else!
She's staid here many a night when she was on
her way to Athins to sell her trumpery. We all
used to think there was nobody on yerth like
Miss Lemern; but she's sorter quit stopping
here like she used to, an* somewhow we don't
keer much, though Dtrcps and Heps still thinks
she's a monsus nice creeter. *
‘I ain .-.Iso well acquainted with Mrs. Leraon,
and like your daughters, think her an excellent
Ifcdv , * said Mr. Montgomery.
‘1'rs, ‘ observed Ramsay with some hesitation,
‘but sho's a mighty stuck up sort of a umern,
an* doiil play a fair game every time she cuts
htr cards. •
‘For many years,* replied the other with some
warmth, ‘1 have been accustomed to think her
entirely honorable in all her dealings.*
'Shucks!' exclaimed Ramsay, ‘I don't mean
sht'il cheat an' steal like the tarnil Fates what
live over the hill yonder; but I mean that her
cap is lots bigger than her head it, an' that she's
not better than anybody else. I reckin yon know
as how .-lie is a widder, an' I'll tell yon all about
it. ‘ Weighting a widder an' smartly frisky like,
Risium ihar took sieh a liking to her that I
thunk to iny soni tie was s natral born fool. But
bein' that she was tolerable good lookin' an'
perhaps young enough fer him, I had no objec
tions agin the match. So bein' expeeranced in
Rich thmgs mor'n him, I sorter hope him court
her seme. Ai this she got stayin' mad an' cut
up worse than a ole dominicker hen with her
tail pniied out. I tole her that Risium was
good enough fer kdv body, an' that 3he mout
chink herself fcr’init to git such a husband as
him. Then it was she got still mader, an' so I
jest went off an' let the ole mum rip. I didn't
want him to marry her nohow. Iiislnm, tho‘,
fool like, took it so monstrashus bard that he
cludid. to try her agin for hisseif. So one day
he spruced right up to her an' axt her would
she have him; but she wouldn't the ole fool.
She didn't git mad though, like she did at fust;
but jest laughed and cackuled like a hen over
her Inst egg. Then it was I got sorter mad my-
seif, an' she went off, an' haint been back
here much since, an' I'll be drat if I keer outh-
‘Why, daddy, said Risium, interrupting his
father, omd crianoincr ,.f Nullv with .a 'nr.ia. J
sir' tc i'll the rac I've seen partier folks
than sue is anyhow.*
‘1 knew,’ said Mr. Montgomery, wishing to
change tiro current of conversation, ‘that Mrs.
Lemon a'metimes traveled in this direction, and
being :-c qnainled with both her and Mr. Revilic
I won! . like to know if they ever met in this
community. *
•Why, gracious m&, * answered Ramsay, ‘they
've seed one a nother lots of times; but they're
the strangest folks when they git together you
ever did see. Ef he want to a place whar she
was. Lt‘d leave right efi; au' ef she went to a
place w bar he was, she'd hull out to some other
place. They tvouldn't stay much together at
anybody's house no way you eouid fix it.
They‘d jest tell one a anther howdy, though
every body knows they-re mighty well acquaint
ed. Why, I havo hoard of 'em meetin* in the
road wbar they'd talk fer mor'n a hour at one
time. Now aiut that enruo?'
'It is certainly strange, * thoughtfully replied
Mr. Montgomery. His former conjectures in
regard to Reville's acquaintance with Mrs. Lem
on, were now known to be true; and his sus
picion oi their knowledge, at least to some ex
tent, of Nelly's infancy and parentage, though
by no means so certain, was stronger than be
fore; and caused him io look more anxiously for
something that wouid throw light upon the sub
ject sufficient to enable him to take the first step
towards a solution of the problem. Ramsay
noted the meditative mood into which his ac
count of the meetings between Mrs. Lemon and
Revilic had thrown his guests, and evidently
disliked to see his narrative have this effect on
them.
‘Is it, * asked he in a sympathetic manner, 'so
earns that you is all sorry bout what I tole you?'
■Oh no, * repiied Mr. Montgomery, assuming
his usual cheerfulness. ‘We were wondering
why Mrs. Lemon and Reville should be stran
gers when in the presence of others, and friends
when meeting on the highway. Do you know
whether or not she ever visited him at his honse?
They may be relatives.'
‘I don't know whether she was ever thar or
not. I never hearn nary one of 'em say a word
oonsarnin' the other in any way a tall. But
shorely they're no kin; for one's no more like
tother than a possum is a coon.’
Thus these two characters passed from the
conversation of the night, leaving, if possible,
the minds of the travelers more confused than
before. Being weary both in body and mind,
they felt like retiring to rest; but the ever active
spirit ot their host, seemed determined to en
gage their attention as long as possible.
'It phot many times,’ said Ramsay, abruptly
breaking the silence, ‘that sich folkes as you
ones comes to stay with us muoh, and seein’ as
Low we've got the ole umern an’ the teacher
mac ouisn the way, I want to talk with you some,
for I didn’t have much of a chance afore supper.
‘What, ‘continued he, throwing down his hat,’
does you ones all foller up in the mountins
whar you live?’
■Farming,’ answered Montgomery, ‘is my
chief occupation. In early life I, f rom time to
time, have followed various occupations; but for
many years I have given close attention to agri
cultural pursuits as most congenial to my tastes
and habits. By the way, I discover that you are
a farmer also ; and from ail that I have seen I
should judge you to be, Id some respects, a suc
cessful one. There is, however, a matter con
nected with your system of farming which i do
not understand, and which, as a farmer myseif,
I wouid like to have you ixplain.’
‘Weil,’ quickly replied liamsay, ‘as you’re
not one of them stuck up tellers what think
they’re too goid to work, 111 splain it to you ef
I can. What on yeth ia it ?
•Why do you use cx’en instead of horses on
your plantation ?'
•You lack a long shet of bein’ the fust man
what’s axt me that To begin whar the thing
nst started, I must go ’way back an’ tell yon
that my oldist boy was killed by a hoss a long
time ago, an’ I’ve hated the drottid creeters
ever sense. I sole all I had, an’ give ’em ’wsy
together, an’ then I put my foot on it that I'd
never own another, an* I haint. When Ellio
Bamsy says a thing it's gin*rally so, shore as
yon‘re born. Yon see bow nigh yon nns all
come bein * smasht into sassige meat this very
day by the iarnal creeters. It's jist a happen
stance that you're not all as dead now as yer
bosses is. Now ef yon'd a startid out on yer
trip with a nice yoke of steers like mine an*
Risium *s is, thar'd a been no danger, an* you
would now be agwine on yer way rejoicin'. I
know hosses go faster than steers, an* dandy
folks thinks they look better an* stylish-like.
But that's not here nor thar. I'd rather go slow
aD' shore, than be agwine slavin' ‘long to some
place whar I'd git my head bustid open, or my
neck broke one or tother, an* as fer the looks of
the thing, I've never seen a hoss in all my born
days that looks pnrtyer than a nice fat steer.
Mor'n that I can make as much corn with one
as I can with a boss, providin' I give him the
same 'tention as I do the Loss. A sperience of
sev'ral year has teecht me so, an'I'll tell you
how i do it, ef you want me to.*
•Yes tell us. We are anxious to know your
mode of farming, * said Montgomery.
•Well, 1*11 tell you ; an' it wont take me long,
nuther. Yon see that jest as soon as the weath
er begins to cool off in the full of the year, I
start ‘bout twenty strong nigger men to plowin'
twenty yoke of big fat steers what can puil a
plow when it's staved in the grown* to the beam,
an* ‘cept when it's too wet I keep 'em at it tell
corn plantin' time the next year. They jost
bust through ev'ry thing that comes in their
way, roots, stumps, rocks an' all, ‘way down
deep. Then I dont a'low nary thing to make a
track on the groun* after it's plow'd tell I go to
plantin'. Then it's so soft an* mailer that I
don't keer much whether it's plow'd any more
or not in crap time, though we do go over it
some with the plows, an' hoe it monsus good ;
but that's as easy done as stirrin' up a ash-bank.
You see this way of deep an' good plowin'in
the right time is lickum spoonors for the corn,
an' makes it grow right off without standin* thar
waitin' for you to come ‘long with a nother plow
to bust it's little roots aii to smashes, an' make
it look droopy like a sick sheep in shearin'time.
The hoein' round the young stuff' is all it needs
to make it open it's mouth wide inoagh to drink
the sunshine, an' dew, rai. . or whatever it is
that makes it grow outen the groun' instid ot
in it like a taler. But all this wont do onless
you've plow'd ilka I tole you to. A nother
reas'n why I'd rather have steers than hosses is
bekase a hoss aint fit tor a nigger like a steer is,
an'me an' Risium can't do all the plewin.'
Thar is a ding thing what folkes calf a mule
tnat moat suit 'em ; but the tarnal creeters has
got siou good use of their behind legs, that
tuey ‘II kick a chaw terbacker outen a feller's
mouth afore he knows it, I know a steer eats a
heap, an' so does a hoss. I’m under the conclu
sion that when you put the steer's beef-meat,
an' hide an' taller in, you've got more'n inough
to balance with th6 ness. Now I've tole you
some things why I'd rather have steers, an' ef
this ain't inough I'll teil you more though I
epect you wont believe me.'
T can think of no reason why I should dis
pute anything you sr>y. Though men may not
agree in every particular, all have a right to
their opinions,' pleasantly repiled Montgomery.
“Well,* said he, 'as youro agwine to b'lieve
me, I'll jest tell you all ah-bout it. Some foikes
says as how it's not so ; bat me an' my folkes,
was orfully pestered, I triito help them.up on
their feet, but I couldn't, hen I looked agin
to see what had aoome ofhe spirit,—an* oh,
mercy on me! Samson v ridin* in circles
around the top of that big plar tree! Aroun*
ah* aroun* he rid, gittin* ler and lower tilljat
last the hoss teched the gm‘, and stood thar
jest a little this side. The’Samson got offen
him an* sot down agin these, an* lookt to'ard
the house while he was a Bin the bridle. I
know'd that was the very tt whar he an* Jane
fust tole each other of thoiiTe, an* made the
arrangements ‘bout gittin* * tried. He lookt
as natral as ever I seed hi; t* fiy life;_an* ‘fore
I know'ed what I was doii£ te filed him by his
name and told bin to cor ^ house. Then
he riz agin and got on h om vithoqt lettin'
me see how he done it, f ding away through
the air clear above the toff ^ tip tree?, He
went off toward sunrise, acp.fJ^mos* curuest
part of it ali was, the furtqjj went the faster
he got, an* the boss* tail a:,f Kane kept a gittin
bigger an* bigger, tell theyrbked jest like one
of them bunchyfclouds whi.ail spangles out
like a pile of feathers \yotd ia a storm. I
watohed him tell ho went oN outen sight jest
like a shader does when a ^ui gits over the
sun, an' I couldn't see the . r boy any longer.
I had forgot Peggy aa * Jan j't then it was that
I thunk of them, an' lookeijo see what they
was a doin'. Thar they sola the fioor, watch-
in' Samson ride away like t been doin', an'
they was skeered most to tyth, shore as y ou
live. It was orful times, I -'ll you! My hair
felt like fishing poles a stio'hg out aii over my
head, and seemed like my ?jt was htavier than
two mill-stones! Thar is phty of men what‘11
tell you I am no coward, U I felt menstrua
enrus shore as you ate bejs and I feci so yit
when I think of that orful ufht. I speot you
nns don'tb‘lieve me; but PsIcAj'-har j knows I'm
toilin' of the truth, and I knovit, too.'
‘Yeth, itk’s all the truth,’ saitMrs. Ramsay as
The boy oould do ’em beautiful! Helping the
steward was what they kept him to chiefly ; but
for rough work on deck, or anything o’ that
kind, he was too tendtker entirely. ’Twasn’t
fit for the bonny little white hands of him, bless
you ! Bruce, it seems, had known the lad afore,
and used to have au eye on him constant, to see
he got good treatment ; not that many on board
the Nancy would havo harmed little George.
One day a big surly brute of a boy we had in
the ship told him to do something that was be
yond his strength, and was going to kick him
because he wasn't able. Bruoe, who was never
very far off, somehow, rushed at the fellow, his
face afire with rage. ‘Yon cowardly rascal,’ he
cried, grabbing him by the collar and shaking
him till you'd think the teeth would be shook
out of his head, ‘you offer to do that again—you
dare to lay a finger on that child—and I’ll break
every bone in your body.’ There were a good
many jeers among the men at the way Bruce
watched and spied after his -little brother,’ as
they nicknamed him ; but they said nought to
his face. There was something about the young
man that made folks keep their distance.
’Twasn’t for any likeness between ’em they were
oalled ‘brothers.’ The young one was as fair as a
lily, and bright and smiling ; with hair that,
when the sun was upon it, lookbd tor all th6
world like shining gold ; and Brucs was dark-
complexioned, with black locks and a grave
countenance.
“The voyage was a fair one. Nothing to make
a remark upon fill it was well nigh over ; and
then a sudden squall came on. Ugly customers
they are, them squalls ; and you’re never safe
from them in these latitudes. They’ll spring
up upon you so sudden and with such violence,
that if you’ro not a3 quick as thought, ‘Davy s
locker’ would be the word for the ship and every
soul aboard. In a minute all hands were turned
up, and orders sung out to shorten sail. It was
no end of a hurry. In less than no time the
Mlit aud Humor.
she wiped great tears froui, her yes with a huge royals and top-gallant sails were fa * 1<,d * f nd *
eWceH »Lt, reef taken m the topsails ; every man at his best
LZ 3 ~ Little George—aiwavs reset
checked apron.
This account of the
spea-
“ji y.P saT « e ot ' tb
trai horseman was gi '. w’.taa earnestness
son,
along the yards. Little George—always
to help—jumped into the fore-rigging to get
alolt and stow the fore-royal. Bruce was utter
him like a shot. Toalata! Whether the child
missed his footing or got giddy, none could
know ; down he fell, on to the deck. There
wasn’t stir or sound—his neck was broken ! ’
Here the old man paused and took off his hat.
which showed that the be^fc-rlfeather fully be
lieved all he had said. Ir -5t;ie entire fam
ily seemed so deeply imt 14 Thea"’!its reality
that they assumed an ayienltebe so painfully
thougutlul that their gr<* Hire at a loss to
know what to say or thiej^^- tas already far
in the night, and aitho\!~ Mr minds were
d to dwell on the . •hadows, the
ese slight-
count of the
jpe-trance oi his
and hi’s circuitous d [ent around the
great poplar tree to the very s' A. wnere he plight
ed his young heart’s first ifd only love, was
peculiarly suggestive and veird to the still
younger hearts.
‘Mr. Ramsay,’ asked Mr. Montgomery after a
long silence, ‘did your son >yar thus strangely
appear more than one timer!
'Yes air, one time more. Jstie took to her bed
alter that night I told you about, ind never riz
from it for three weeks. Bt:t one night she got !
up and declared Samson.wu comiu agin to ses - . ,
her an’ shore ’nougb he did. I had lots of 1 childhood, and had been promised to one aaoth-
Eopes then, an’ suddiutly evty one ofem begun | ar and hand-fasted irom sinoe they weroboyand
to nicker an' squeal, au • pawat the stable doors \ girl. Both belonged to the best ot f.mili.s and
with their fore feet, an' kick the logs with their tne parents and friends on all s^ea wer agrae-
hine ones jest like they was in a yalter jacket’s | able to the marriage ; but the young man s fath-
next. They tore an’ riot so that seme of the er got into money troubles by reason of a oauu
niggers heard’em an run to 864what was the mat-] that broke ; and her poop e seeing n a
ter.^ Bat in a miunit, they wuj. still as death, and
then we heard somethin' a fill 1 pin' an' a pantin’
Extracting from it a cotton handkerchief rolled
in a wisp inside, he passed it across his brows
before ho resumed his story.
“1 am an aged man, your honors, and I’ve
seen, 1 daresay, as much trouble an’ grief au
ueart-scald as auy one else in ibis sorrowful
world ; but never,' before or siuca, did I meet
the equal of Bruce’s despair whan he seen the
‘tittle brother’ lying dead forenent him. He
Hung himself down on the deck, convuisad-likd
with agony ; and when he come to, ho wound
his arms about the corpse, and keeping every
one off', aud not letting man or mortal touch it
but himself, lifted it up and staggered off like
one that was drunk.
Aud then it ail came out. Little George was
Bruce’s wife. Tney had known each other from
We sent him to the grocery
To get a bar of soap;
He was the youngest of our six—
He was our pride aud hope.
Our little Henry now is dead,
Killed by a butcher cart,
And we can never think of him
Without au aching heart.
A girl may smile and be unwillin’ still.
In this world brayin’ is too often taken for brain.
A Maine paper solemnly tells of an Italian organ
grinder who does not claim to be a count. SThis
shows the demoralizing effects of the campaign in
that State.
A man out in Nevada found a fortune taking a
drink of water. We’ve taken a pint or more of the
stuff within the past ten years; bad no fortune
when we commenced, and have it yet.
And the nightshall be turned into gas-light.
From our brows the sweat we shall wipe,
Then grab the pillow by the back of the neck,
To give the musquito a swipe. _
“How is your wife’s 'health.?” said Sue Sunday
school teacher to another; “is she well?’ ‘Well,
hardly ever,’’ was the response.^The questioner
gazed sternly at the questioned, hut finding that he
meant it, put up his revolver.
Well, nearly all the college commencements are
over t.liis year, and we have again escaped having
l.L. D. hitched into our name. Some other very
worthy and iiignly respected persons, we notice,
have been less fortunat.-.
Some wicked m in asserts that is was a great mis
take that potato bugs were not introduced into the
garden of Kden, since their presence would havo
kept Adam aud Eve so busy that they wouldn’t
have had time to go around foraging for pippins.
a pair of scissors was lost, and the little 5one sug
gested that a prayer he said, asking that they
might be found. There was, however, a lurking
consciousness that there ought to be combination
of prayer and work, so the youthful philosopher
said!: “Now, mother, I’m tired; so I’ll pray wiiiU
you hunt.” “w
“Walter, do you think the stars are inhabited;'.”’
she said, glancing at him with au expression that
showed what confidence she had in his supe
rior wisdom. ”“(.'lara,” lie replie l, your father oul>
allows me ten dollars a week, and you can’t expect
any but a high-price.l clerk to answer that ques
tion.”
At 7 o'clock in tiie morning, two duelists, who are
to fight till death in a place in the suburbs, meet at
the ticket otiice of the railroad)station, “Gimme a
return ticket as usual," says the first duelist to the
clerk in a terrible tone and a ferocious twist of his
moustache. “I—I say, do you always buy a return
ticket?” stammered his opponent. “Always, sir !”
Then i apologize.”
like it was a truin’ to git its l eath.an* couldn’t,
an'Joiar Samson's bigyalle«Iogcomearunmn’
in ihe piezzsr whar we was a jtuii', with, iris bris-
3ul« all a staadia
meins of snpoorting her, wouldn’t hear of their
marrying. All was forbid between them, and
they wore parted from one another. But they
couldn't live asunder ; so, like a pair oi young
fools, as they were—God help ’em!—they raa
n.wav and cot spliced unknown. Bruce, as I
An old fellow, living on the west side, and who
has a son just entering juvenile society, made a tet-
rible mistake the other night. A note was laid at
his plate not long since, 1 ’which; said : “Miss ,
No. —street, requests your company Tuesday eve
ning.” He combed his bald head and went there.
A little girl ushered him into ihe parlor. “Is Miss
in?”lsaid he. “Yes.ithat is my name,” said
the girl. “Isn’t Johnny coming to-night}?” (John
was his son.) It all oocurred'to the old man in a
moment. He thought Miss wasap older sb
ter. He wiped his bald head, took Ills hat and said:
"No, Johnny lias the cholera intautum. .Inst com.?
to tell you he couldn't be here.” And 1 ,the old man
went out and kicked himself.'.’ a
diu.'an' peerantiy began to do monsus well,
like ail the Bamsy tribe, ef their ole daddy dots
say it hisseif. Howscmcver, it didn't last long;
for one day two or three weeks after the weddiw
Si.mson was agwine ridin' ‘long the road, an'
his hoss got skeer'd at somethin,' an' flung aim
agin a tree, an' kill'd him right tUar, poor boy.
it was the orfule-st time I over seed ; but some
how Jane toon it the wustest, an poor thing, she
haint- got over it yit. She was a orful chile
what had no mammy an' daddy, nor anybody to
take keer of her, so me an' Peggy jest fetch her
right here the next day, like she'd a been oar
own chile. We nuss'd her like a baby for
more'r. three weeks, an' then she got up an'
about agin ; but she went mopin' roan' like she
was lost. One night me, an' her' an' Peggy got
ortuily skeer'd' an' that sot her back agin.
That's what I'm agwine to tell you uns about.
Punch up the light thar' Risium. I do dispise
to talk in the dark. ‘ •
Risium gp.ve the chunks a lusty kick, and
then threw on another huge pine-knot that soon
sent up a ruddy flame.
‘Wall,‘ continued Ramsay, ‘we wrr a settin*
out thar in the pifizzer, Peggy, and Jane, and
me was, and I reckin we never shall fergit, an' I
guess th6y wont nuther. The moon was a shi
nin' jest like it was day time, and the whippoor
wills was a hollerin' nil over the woods like one
trying to outsquall the other. Well, we was a
lookin' towards that big poplar tree what grows
down yonder on the branch; an’ I reckin you
uns seed it this evening, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir,' replied Montgomery; ‘we all par
ticularly noticed that tree. It is the largest I
ever saw. *
, Jest so!’ continued Ramsay. ‘As I said Peg
gy, and Jane, and me was a lookin' to'ards the
tree in the moonshine. The lightnin' bugs
was a flyin' up an* down the branch like sparks
of fire outin* a hickory chunk; and from the
way they dodg'd about, itiookad 'ike snthinor*
fill was about to happen. The frogs, too, they
all quit hollerin' l'ke a gun had been shot at
'em' and Peggy *s ducks all come a marching up
the spring path with their heads turned to one
side, and the old drakes went quack! quack!
quack! as they come piddy paddy ‘long to'ards
the hotse, one after anuther in a straight row.
Then the ole umen’s chickens was a roostin'
down yonder in the orchard whar they are now;
an' ail on a snddin the old roosters begun to go
chuck! chuck! chucket! an' all tho lions jines
in an' began tocackie like an owl was after ev'ry
one of'em. Ef thar is any thing on yeth that
is enough to make a feller feel spotted ail over,
it is the squallin'of an ole hen in the night
time. It didn't last long though; presently we
heerd a calf give a keen blate like suthin' was a
hurtin’ it, and then the old cow ansured it with
a long moan that made me feel so lonesome that
I like to a cried. Soon after another calf blated,
«n* anuthor cow answered it in the same way,
an' then another an* anothur teil I begun to
think that ev'ry cow I had was a dyiu‘, an' all
the calves was a cryin' about it. I tell you ev'ry
thing begun to look boogerish; an' to make the
matter wusser the moon quit shinin' all on a
suddin, and ev'ry thing turned as dark as pitch.
Jane looked to see what was the matter with the
moon an' then fell outen her cheer with sich a
orful scream that it's ringing in my ears jist like
I told you before. As she tnmbled backwards
she pinted at the moon, an* then it was me an'
Peggy lookt that way toe! O mercy, what an
orful sight we did set! there atween us an' the
moon sot our own son Samson on the same hoss
that killed him, an* he lookt jest like ho did
when he rode otfthe last time W6 ever seed him!
Then Peggy fell down by Jane, an' though I
fusr, time. He was a heap
hoss was a rnniiia* at a orf
went off on that other area
loekt like balls of fire, au'i
clean back on his neck. H
or up, an' hie
rate, jest like he
fii night. His eyes
3 years was laid
tail an' mane was
a streamin'behind au'a kind o' smoke was a
pourin' out o' his nostrils. Sakes alive! how
dreadful it was! I don’t think the burniu' up
of the worl' would make me feel any wusser; but
my bad teelings was not here nor thar to my
poor, poor boy ou his orful midnight rule to
come to see us ?.!i. On he come, stavin' thro’
the air tell we could 866 him right plain an' nat-
eral like, but he didn't look at anything but his
boss' head as he passed by. Howsomever, as
he went over tho top of the big poplar tree, he
lookt down j .sc one time like he wanted to see
whether Jane was thar or not. She wanrt thar
poor thing, an' so on he stavei through the air
like a arrer shot outen a bow. As he went off’
to'ards sunrise like he did afore, he got higher
an' higher, an' as he went up, the smoke biled
thicker outen the horses nostrils tell it got all
around him like a cloud, an- then I couldn't see
my boy any longer. I detarminei to git shed
of all my horse ef I had to kill ’em, but I
didn't want to do that, fer some of ’em mout
a-come back like Selim did to pester me. After
Selim killed poor Sainson, I shot him fust thing,
though he was a mity fine big black critter; but
he was always mean an* vicious.*
(To be Continued.)
A Sailor’s Story.
It was in the last voyage I ever made before
coming to lay up my cld bones ashore for good,
that what I am going to tell your honors hap
pened. -\uncy our ship was called, hailing from
Cork, bound for Van Diemen's Land ; and we
were lying in the Mersey, waiting for our pas
sengers. The captain was short of hands, and
we got two or three aboard before we sailed.
Among them was a young fellow who gave his
name as Bruce ; nigh upon twenty-four years of
age, or thereabouts, seemingly. He shipped as
an ordinary seaman ; but it was easy to see there
was a difference between himself aud the others,
from the talk aud the wajs of him A fine-look
ing young lei low, too, as eyes could wish to see ;
tali and broad-shouldered. Well, your honors,
we weren’t very long after leaving port, and the
Nancy gettting well out to sea, when there was
the world’s commotion on board. And what
was it but a poor little stowaway they had dis
covered crouched up hiding under the fbre-
hatoh, and were hauling out to bring him to the
captain. A bit of a chap he was, with rings of
golden hair curling ali round his head, a pretty
oval face, un’ the great large blue eyes lifted up
pitiful an’ swimming in tears; for he was frighten
ed oat of his seven senses, the or'ature, when
he was caught, and the rough fellows pulling at
him. Before you could tarn about, Bruce was
alongside ; and ‘boys,’ stz he, ‘lave go of the
child ; there’s “no harm in him. Don’t drag
him. I know who he is, and will make it straight
with the captain.’
“A bright, nandy little fellow he wa3 ; active
as a bee, and willing an’ ready to do auy odd
job that turned up on board. The men would
have liked nothing better than to make a pet
and a play-toy of him ; but he was as shy as a
bird, aud made no freedom with any one, keep
ing hisseif to hisseif. The captain took to the
young ’an wonderful. He was a family man,
you see, with a wife and chiider in the Cove of
Cork ; and he’d have little George in his cabin
showed the captain ; and her weddin' ring, that
she wore round her neck, the or’ature ! tied with
a blue ribbon. And he had papers and letters
aud docymerits proving the birth and station of
aim aud herself, aud the grand folks they come I
of. He was twenty-three years of age, he said;
aud she coming up for eighteen ; chough you’d |
never think but what she was much younger |
than that, by reason of being so fair and iuaoc- j
ent-iooking, aud seeming small and slender in \
boy’s clothes.
There is a very strong public opinion against
preaching by women, but almost every husband
knows that women as lecturers are an entire sue-
cess- 0
l here is perhaps no time when adorable woman
looks less like au angel than when she is walking on
her heels through a mud puddle.
A fair-looking but demented woman called at the
IFhite House the other day and wanted the Presi-
“It was a sorrowful sight when, the day after , dent to marry her. It was Mrs. Hayes who sent
the accident, the remains of the poor young
thing were brought ou deck, sewed up in a
hammocS; and were ali gathered round to hear
the funeral service read over them. There
wasn’t one of the crew that wasn’t grieved to the
hearf for our little comrade, that had made the
voyage with us, aud brightened up the old ship
with purty ways—blithesome, as a robin and
sperrity. Even the big lubberly boy, that no
one thought had a soft spot about him, was cry
ing like rain, skulked behind thereat; and there
was moisture ia the eyes of many a rough old
salt, and brown hands brushed across them.
“But never a tear, good or bad, did Bruce
shed. He stood beside the corpss, the living
image of despair, with gray haggard face and
parched lips ; his eyes wild and bloodshot, with
a kind of stony glare in them that wasn’t natur
al. We none of us liked his looks. The captain
took hold of him by the sleeve and spoke some
pitiful words, trying to rouse him a bit; but
lord ! you might as well talk to the dead in their
graves. He didn’t hear or notice anything.
“At last the part of the service was come to
when the remains arc slipped off into the sea ,
and at that he gave a great start; and setting his
teeth, with one leap he was over the side, reach
ing the water a'most as soon as the corpse.
Down to the bottom they sank both together—
the living and the dead—and disappeared !
God pardon him, poor fellow ! He had to go
with her.
“Yes, your honors, 'iwas a sad occurrence;
bat there’s an old saying, that no good comes
of going agin’ th.3 will of them that reared us.
It brings, sure enough, neither luck nor grace.”
Mr. Austin Corbin, who is onposed to enter
taining Jews at his hotel at Manhattan Beach,
and who doesn’t care to have theta ride on his
railroad, is not sustained by the hotel keepers
at Coney Island. In fact, about all of them say
that they would just as soon entertain Jews as
anybody else. They do not see but that the
Jews behave as well as other people, and they
certainly pay their bills promptly. Corbin
seems to have made a mistake. He has stirred up
a hornet nest, for nearly all the Jews of New
York are excited over the distinction which has
been made against their race. The excitement
ia muoh greater than when Judge Hilton shut
them out of his Saratoga hotel.
in a veto this this time.
T should just like to see somebody ab luet me,
said Mrs. Smith at the breakfast table the other
morning. -H'iu ! so should I, my .lear -oso should
I,’ said Mr. Smith with exceeding earnestness.
Lady Mary Campbell, the younger of the two
daughters who accompanied the Duke of Argyll to
this conutry,is said to have been an extremely come
ly lass indeed, extremely graceful, with soft brown
eyes and hair, and charming features and expres
sion.
A word to the wise is sufficient. A minister
made an interminable call upon a lady of his ac
quaintance. Her little daughter, who was present,
grew weary of his conversation, and whispered in
an audible tone, “did he bring his amen with him,
Mrs. Mattie Potts, the woman who set out
from New York the 12th of May to walk to New
Orleans and back in live months, arrived at New
Orleans on Sunday, five days ahead of time.
She started on her return trip Wednesday, and
is confident of winning the $5,000 wager that is
said to be pending.
Crops and Products.
^ All the towns along the line of the Little Rock &
^ ort Smith Railway need more dwelling houses
to accommolare the people.
The Baltimore Gazette, in noticing the estimates
of the cotton crop this veur as equal to s,2)j,a>j
bales, says : ‘This is a decided increase over last
year, and is -k»,ooo more bales than the South pro
duced before the war, when in the full enjoyment
of the profitable slave labor, about which we have
heard so much.
It is reported that the British markets are crowd
ed with American cheese, much to the disgust of
the home dairymen. In Glasgow and other lar^e
towns the supply is said to oe largely in excess of
the demand.
Reports from the Eastern Status predict a scarci
ty of fish oils the coming season. IFhether this is
true, or an attempt to bull the market we are’nor
prepared to state.
French chemists have succeeded in extracting a
valuable red coloring matter from cabbage "v s
the material fs much cheaper than cochineal'etc
we may expect an udvance in the choicer grades of
Havana cigars.
painting, and ooloring picture, and such like, i astroas.
Effect of a Sad Song.—A lovely young wo
man oi Indianolo, Texas, Miss Maud Crossland,
after singing to a select circle, “See that my
Grave is Kept Green,” went to her room and
blew out her brains with a six-shoot6r. Snob
songs shonld be banished from every house
hold. Their effect upon nervous people is dis-
The receipts of new wheat hi Philadelphia have
been very heavy the past week, aggregating over a
million bushels. The gram is of a fine qualit v mid
is being rapidly transferred to Europe by our steam-
skip lines.
Grapes continue to command good prices in North
ern markets. Delawares, 15 to i8c per pound: Con
cords and Ives beedliug, io to 12 i-”ce: Hartfords,
j fco 9C - ■ l>e . st ff ru ,l les coming at present, are
f r01 '* , Rock Ark. They come in one-third
oushel boxes, nicely packed, and reach here in fine
order, soiling at n to 12 l-^c per pound.
Texas has put ou the market her firet bale of cot
ton for this season. It is, by one day, the earliest
first bale on record. .
Wheat.—We are informed that little Jimmie
craraett, who resides some two miles from town ou
thePoteau river, raised this year 1,100 bushels of
wheat, from oo bushels sowed last fall. This wheat
was gl ows# i on the Poteau bottom, where the Ian'S
is very rich aud fresh.