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THE MAN IN THE PEPPER-BOX.
pepper-box ” was a little octag
onal house al>out six feet in diameter
and eight feet in height with a conical
roof. In one of the eight sides was a
little door with a window in the top of
it, and in the other six sides there were
small windows. The pepper-box was
furnished with one comfortable leather
covered arm-chair, and the curious little
building stood in a railroad yard amid
a perfect net-work of switches mu! turn
outs, and was placed there to shelter the
man who watched the “ know-nothing ”
or crossings where two railroads inter
cept each other at right angles.
The crossings of which I now write
were in the railroad yard of a large
manufacturing city and railroad center
where nearly every foot of land, with
the exception of this little triangular
spot of ground where the pepper-bos
stood, was covered witli iron rails. One
would naturally think it to be a very
confusing place to be in. The man in
the pepper-box was obliged to keep a
level head on his shoulders or he would
be likely to make a mistake in regard
to the time that one of the numerous
trains was due ; and a miscalculation
of half a minute meant more or less
destruction of life and property. Or,
if he was got constantly on the lookout
and alert, when he stepped outside he
was liable to be' run over and cut, to
pieces by the regular or switching trains.
Paul .Serus, the pepper-box man.
called “ Old Serious” by the railroad
“ boys,” was an object of interest to
every one of.the scores of employees
on the several roads, who passed gind
repassed his close quarters every day.
lie had never been seen or heard of by
any of them until, dusty and travel
worn he walked into the passenger
station 011 c day in a half intoxicated
condition, and took the cars for New
Y ork.
lie refused to show his ticket or to
pay his fare, so the conductor, giving a
pull to the bell rope to have the train
slowed tip, pitched the poor fellow off
—rather too unceremoniously it was
thought—and left him lying on the
ground in a half dased, half stunned
condition, before he regained con
sciousness and was able to get up, an
other train came along and ran over and
cut off one of his feet that was lying
across the rail.
There was quite an ado made over
the affair. The conductor was blamed
lor not bringing the train to a stop be
fore he put the man off. and for leaving
him parti}' on the track. The former
was suspended indefinitely—there had
been many complaints entered against
him before at the superintendent's office
—and the poor victim was carried to
the city hospital where the superintend
ent of the road, a very kind-hearted
man, himself jse.
well cared for.
lie became interested in the patient.
Paul Serus, and called to see him more
than once, and promised him a job as
soon as he should be well enough to
take it, on the condition, however, that
lie should sign the pledge. The wound
ed man promised faithfully to do so,
and while his mutilated stump of an
ankle was healing he had time to get
thoroughly sobered, to profit by the
sorqpwhat dismal retrospect of his. life
and to make plans for a useful, honor
able future.
“ This is the first time I have been
Completely sober for years,” lie said to
the surgeon, who was very attentive and
kind to him. “ I feel exactly as if I
had been away from my true self all
this dreadful time, and had just got back
into my old body again—as I used to
be when 1 was somebody in the world.”
As soon as poor Paul was able to
hobble about on a crutch, the whole
souled railroad superintendent came to
the hospital arid had a long interview
with the surgeon in regard to him.
There was such a quiet dignity about
such a native goodness of
heart, honesty in action and purpose,
that these two gentlemen had made up
their minds not to turn the crippled
patient out on the world when he should
have recovered, but on the other hand
to do something for him. " You may
give him a situation where there is
some responsibility ; where lie will have
something to take up mind constantly,”
said the good surgeon. “ The pepper
box down in our yard is the liveliest
place I know tiT foragreep hand," said
the superintendent. “ I will give him
the day watch there.”
And so he did, telling big Mike, the
old and faithful switchman on a side
iravk near by, to keep a sharp watch
upon him, however. “There’s not a
uian on the road, sir, as needs less
watchin’ than old Serious.” reported
Mike at the end of the month, “ he jist
rnoinds his own business.”
One day as the superintendent was
walking in the yard, Paul said to him:
“ I can do the day and night work both
just as well if you frill increase my pay
and let me build an addition to my
Jvnise in the shape of a dry-goods box
in which I can stretch myself out be
tween trains at night; there's room for
jt in the triangle. Downing, the night
watch, told mo to-day that lie must
throw up his job, his rheumatism had
got such a hold upon him. Besides, I
can easily wake at any given time at
pight; I was noted in the army for
that when on guard and picket duty.
*< Very well,’ 1 replied the superintend
ent, o I am willing you should try it.
Downing spoke to me just now about
giving up his job,” In this ease little
Mike, the night watchman, was instruct
ed to have an eye out to see that Paul
kept the right signal lights at his win
dow. So Paul made the queer addition
to the pepper-box. The railroad hoys
VOL. HI—NO. 4.
called it old Serious* chapel, and made
a great deal of fun of him in his Bible |
reading. It came to be quite the thing I
to get up stories about the poor man.
Some said he was a murderer hiding
from justicefothers said he was an es
caped burglar, and at last, as the months
went by, and •mil remained faithful
and alert’at,'his post, they all settled
down in the belief that he was a miser,
and that in the estimation of the free
hearted road hands was the worst char
acter conceivable.
Somebody started the report that the
pepper-box man buried liis wages each
month under the floor of his domicile;
that he boarded himself on crackers
and codfish, and never had a decent
meal, nor a smoke, nor a chew. They
did not say he never took a drink, for
they knew he could not keep the job in
that eventf-and many of them were tee
totalers themselves.
One moonlight night in autumn a
company' of the hands who had come in
on the different trains, thinking to have
some l’un by frightening •• Old Serious,”
marched in Indian file from the freight
depot up.the track to the popper-box,
and encircling the funny little structure,
looked in at the windows. The blood
red signal light was burning brightty,
casting a liirid glow about the premises.
The poor cripple was fast asleep on the
floor, wrapped in a blanket, bis head
and shoulders in the. pepper-box and
iiis feet stretched out through the little
aperture in the wall into the dry-goods
box. A few pieces, of charcoal were
faintly glowing in. au old iron kettle
over which, in a tin pail, some kind of
broth was simmering.
The hands expressed tjieir indigna
tion at his miserly habits in low whis
pers, and presently Bill Edson shouted,
“• Get iqi. old pinch-penny, and hand
over enough of 3'our hoard to buy us
all a hot supper and the cigars for the
crowd.”
“Y T es,”said another, “shell out or
we'll carry von down the cliff into the
river, and poke you over the falls.”
.The crippled watchman, not. showing
the least fright, incensed the whole
company into roundly Abusing, and in
sulting “ Old Serious.”
He slowly raised himself tip, opened
the door of his domicile.and said,
Y,-toy*Ti woftki mvita you iu wa&u- not
my quarters so circumscribed. Per
haps you will sit down here on the dry
sand while I tell you a bit of a story.
“ For manj r years I .have been
estranged from hoine and friends and
family by drink. I shall not weary yon
with the details of my life. I will
simply say that at the time my foot was
cut off I had not seen m3- wife and chil
dren for five years. As soon as I was
able to write, I sent my wife a letter
telling her that I was trying to be a man
again, and asking her would she live
with me again. She immediately re
plied that she would gladly do so, pro
vided I could keep 1113' resolution to let
liquor alone. 1 don't suppose she had
much faith in me at first, but I have
written to her evety week, and I ban
see by her letters to me that there is a
new and growing hope springing up in
her heart.
“ Now there is not a man among 3-011
who will wonder why I look ‘serious,’
or that I do double duty here, although
it does wear on me a little. But I get
extra pa}-, and have had no time to fall
into temptation. You will now sec the
reason why I live so cheaply is to save
money enough to bring my family half
across the continent before the snow
falls, that the3’ and I may have a home
together once more.”
“ Hurrah for ‘'Old Serious,’ hurrah for
Mr. Serus,” shouted Bill Edson, correct
ing himself. “Isa bo3’S, pay day
was 3’esterda3 r , and we've all got some
stamps by us ; let’s take up a collec
tion,” and pulling off his grimy cap, lie
passed it around, getting generous con
tributions from all hands. Then turn
ing his own greasy, black pockets in
side out, and shaking them in a droll
wa3 r over the cap, he said, “ There, com
rade, take that; and do 3011 see that
little white cottage up there on the
cliff ? It’s empty-. Tom Reynolds
moved up to the other end of the road
to-day. It’s handy to your job; just
the tiling. I'll see about it myself as
soon as it's daylight. You just send
for them folks o’ 3’ourii right off. and if
you haint got money enough 3 r et to pay
the bills, we fellars will see that it's all
right.”
Paul's family arrived in due time, and
every one of those wild, but kind-heart
ed railroad “bo3's” had a hand in set
ting them to housekeeping. And as
they point to that little pepper-box to
this day, and tell this simple story they
say”that Paul Serus is aliero. and that
somehow they feel as the3 r owned a
share of him, and in his happy, thrifty
family living in the neat little white
cottage on the cliff above the crossing.
Why?” asked a teacher in the Sun
day school, “ did Solomon tell the slug
gard to go to the ant' ’ “ Because,
said a thirteen-year-old boy, “ lie knew
his aunt would have him at the wood
pile or in the onion bed every afternoon
as soon as school was out.
HARTWELL, GA„ WEDNESDAY] SEPTEMBER ISiIB,T
AMONG THE MOONSHINERS.
The Origin of the Moonshine Whisky—
How the Liquor Is Tunic—
Where II Is llltlctcn—'The t'nte of lies
rime S|>ii's.
From Iht New York Sun. 1
The conflict between Federal and State
Courts in South Carolina over the shoot
ing of Ladd by a United States Mar
shal under the supposition that he was
lledmond, a noted illicit distiller, has
again drawn public attention to the
moonshiners. These men live iu the
mountains of west North Carolina, north
west South Carolina, East Tennessee,
and Northeast Georgia. The country is
wild.’the 1 soil excellent, and there is a
lair sprinkling of herders aul farmers.
The people are reasonably honest and
passably industrious, but they lack a
thorough knowledge of farming. They
seldom manure tho ground. Mowing
machines and cultivators are not seen.
Fanners plough and.reap, fyut cut their
grnin with a sickle, and use a plough so
light-that it enu be lifted to the shoulder
with one hand. As the roads are rough
and the mountain streams! frequently
bridge!®!?, their products do not reach a
market. There are neither railroads
nor telegraphs. Silver is sea roe, and
greqnbaeks more than scarce, lias 7-go
ing (rappers and hunters turn farm hands
a lew days in each year, and take their
pay in produce. Houses are poorly fur
nished. Chhirs with coWskin bottoms
are a luxury, and guests at first-class
hotels usually sit upon rough board
benches while eating their meals. An
tique clocks' reach from the floor to* the
ceiling, and are wound by pulling a
corf. Momcspuu garments are worn,
anirtliemim ofxhe spinning wheel is
heard in nearly every house. Most of
the travel is upon horseback. Women
ride as skilfully as men. The writer
drove forty miles and did not meet a ve
hicle. The country is not a network of
turnpikes. Thousands upon thousands
of unfenced acres lie between the roads,
over which branded cattle roam at will.
These lands are ridged with towering
mountains and seamed with rocky de
files:*! Furling brooks and dashing wa
terfalls fill the air with music.
The inhabitants arc self-sustaining.
They export but ljttkwind importless.
They live-hn •hfig-itiid-Wimiity; anil Brink
corn whisky the same as a Northern
farmer drinks cider. They call it
sweet mash.” Before the war every
man either made his own whisky or sent
his corn to the still, and got his sweet
mash in return, less the distiller's per
centage, the same asgv Northern farmer
runs his apples to a cider press, or drags
his grain to a grist mill. Whisky was
as free as water. It was found in every
house. Preachers, deacons, church trus
tees and their wives and daughters,hush
whackers, and slaves drink it as English
men drink beer or Frenchmen red wine.
No one thought of declaiming against
it. With possibly a few exceptions it
was rated next to hog and hominy, and
’could be bought at from fifteen to twen
ty cents a gallon.
At the close of the war the honest
mountaineer heard that they must pay
a tax of 82 per gallon on their favorite
beverage. They were thunderstruck.
The tax seemed to them particularly
unjust. The same rate on beer in Ger
many, or red wine in France, would cre
ate a revolution. The mountaineers,
however, had had enough fighting. They
protested and questioned the right of
the Federal Government to impose so
exorbitant a rate upon what they regard
ed as a necessary of life, State rights
were asserted, and they refused to pay
the demand. As they were unrepre
sented in Congress when the law was
passed,, they qifoted the example set by
our forefathers when the British Parlia
ment imposed a tax on tea.
An army of Government officials
flocked to the mountains. One by one
well-known stills were destroyed. Their
owners could not pay the tax, for the
most of them distilled whisky only for
home consumption, and the mountain
eers would not pay two dollars and a
quarter a gallon for what they had been
getting for twenty cents. If they toted ,
corn to the stills they were obliged to al
low the distiller his percentage and pay
two dollars per gallon for the distillation.
The whole country was impoverished,
and a farmer with two ifollars capital
was regarded with envy There was not
enough ready money in the mountains
to buy a homestead for a freedman.
What was to be done? The whisky
must be had. Many thought that they
could not live without it.
In all agricultural districts there are
men who have a natural dislike to farm
ing. They will hunt, fish, drive stage,
burn lime, or do any labor except till
the soil. These men came to the front.
They began to distil whisky surreptious
ly, and were upheld by the community.
Nine-tenths were rollicking youug fel
lows, who . spent much of their time
squirrel shooting and patting and danc
ing gubaa. The other tenth were gray
haired veterans, with hawk-like eyes
and beaks. No fox or deer was more
wary or knew tho mountains better.
Little stills came up like mushrooms
S The work was done in lonely dells and
gorges. light
nights the rmigli’WtV’hra"wS.X.k.
and the cool numnUtyi air was laden
with the odor of sweet mash. Tho boys
were busy. They carriedjcorn to the
stills on their bucks, and returned with
demijohns <jf liquor, which mas poured
into pickle bottles or whatever was han
dy, and distrjhutod among the farmers
Occasionally a little money was received,
Irnt pay was generally taken in produce.
Once an old hog was givtcu in payment
for a gallon of whisky, and the cnange
recaivejJ in pigs. As most of the work
war-done in the light-ef the moon, the
bill's were dubbed moonshiners, and
sweet mash was known ns moonshine
whisky. A barrel of the stulf kept its
distiller in provender for a month.
From that time to the present there
lias been hut little variation in the pro
cess of distillation. In some ca?es seven
or eight men club together and make a
barrel or more a night. This is smug
gled into country loftns iMf*AiHages,
and the boys receive cash for It. i Moilh
shine whisky is plentiful in silch places
as*Asheville, Hendersonville, Ruther
ford, Murphy and Charlotte, j?. C\, Spar
tanburg, Pickens Court llout*>> Green
ville, Yorkvillo, Anderson, Abbeville,
artd Ijaumisville, C., Morganton,
Blairsville, Clayton, Clarksville, Hart
well, and Athens, Ga., and Marysville,
Greenville, Newport, Sevierville, and
Benton, Tenn. Occasionally a few bar
rels reach Charleston, Wilmington, Sa
vannah, and Knoxville, but very few
gallons go over the border. The color
of. the prepared liquor is a light yellow.
Some of it, however, is as clear as Mex
ican aguardiente or Chinese rice rum.
The mountaineers prefer the latter. The
former sells more readily in villages
ai|d cities. To an educated New York
oil Kentucky palate its taste is camphen
cy and disagreeable. It scorches the
gdllet on its way down, add once down
makes g nian feel as though carrying a
red shot in his stomach. A
Kentuckian says he felt as though he
luWl swallowed art electric cat backward.
fingers will upset a stranger, but
a genuine, mountaineer never succumbs
to. less than half a gallon. ,It * 8 fre
quently sweetened with honey or qiclas
ses. This improves the taste, and makes,
it>iu insidious drink for novices. Well
sweetened, it will throw an ft Wstity citing'
Yankee under a table quicker than egg
nog.
Despite the dangers surrounding them,
the moonshiners seem to live a happy
life. They are courteous and obliging
to strangers, and kind and hospitable.
They scorn pay for services rendered
them. A man with a million is perfect
ly safe among them ; but woe betide the
revenue spy. His life is uot worth a
shuck. They kill him as readily as a
Bulgarian Christian butchers a Turk.
In the long run they hold theirown with
Government officials, avenging every
death on the first opportunity. I never
saw a moonshiner with a woollen shu t.
I saw none with undershirts. They
wear unbleached cotton shirts, and pass
the summer in their shirt sleeves. They
run to soft felt hats and brogans. They
delight in weird negro hymns, and the
mountain glens echo their songs. At
times they meet in rude taverns on cross
roads and have glorious blow-outs,’ sea
soned with the music of the, fiddle and
banjo. They are tall and well formed,
and climb the crags like goats. Their
complexions are ruddy and clear, and
they wear their hair long. They are
welcome guests in all farm houses, for
the hearts of the farmers Are bound to
them with bonds of steel. Some are
church members, and regular attendants
at quarterly meetings. They cache
their whisky in the mountains. I have
walked witli them in the most obscure
mountain paths. There was no house
within miles. At the slightest reference
to w hisky, oue of the party disappeared
and quickly returned with a pickle bot
tle or tomato can loaded to the muzzle
with the clear juice. When askijd where
they got it, they smiled mysteriously
and answered, ‘‘ It cainc from the moon.”
Although the taxon whisky has been
reduced to ninety cents per gallon, the
moonshiners are as busy as ever. They
never complain of the hard times, and
are perfectly satisfied if they can trade
a quart of the liquor for a bushel of po
tatoes or a peck of hominy.
Peaches at $155 a Dozen.
Bai.timokk, September o.—At the
Corn and Flour Exchange, this morning,
ten fine jieaches, donated by Capt. John
Woodford, for the yellow fever sufferers,
were sold at auction. James Knox paid
SJS for thd first choice. One sold for
820, two for 81 5 each, and the balance for
810 each. Total, 8145. Afterwards
tffo peaches from another source were
sold for 85 each.
Milledgeville Old Capital ; The new
arrivals at the Asylum for the Insane
are increasing alarmingly. Nearl3'
every <1:13- some unfortunate is brought
anil their names registered in the great
book of the clerk's office. Full eight
hundred insane jicople, many of them
forlorn and wretched, are now quarter
ed on the State, and the list swells, and
the institution continues to be enlarged
to meet the demand for rooyi.”
WHOLE NO. 108.
Tho Number 2.
1 WMI . ’ ■ v*
for The Um titt'ff Sun.
We see the number two in a great
many instance!. A ghml many things
go by pairs, Viz ; In the human body,
two handy, twy feet, two eyes, t,wo ( onrs,
two sidei|L The fingeca are. in piura:
thumbs, two litwlo- fingers, Ac:
two great toes, two little toes, Ac. In
animals two obtains very considerably.
In instruments we see pairs, viz : shears,
ayissors, tongs, nippers, wagon Wheels,
and a great many other instruments.
Of all qoimajq there are the male and
Ju thy physical, world
we sec things by pairs or opposites,
viz: suniinur and winter; seed time
and harvest; day and night; morning
and evening; sunshine and rain; cold
and heat; fire and water; light and
darkness: earth and sky; east and
west f mirth mid ISnnth ; up and down.
Whenever wot sfed one thing we may
look efther for a’ pair or it s opposite.
God and Sntah r Heaven and Nell; time
and etdrnrtwk In principles we sec
this duality or opposition: Honesty
and tlleft? kindness and crnelty’, frank
ness ami duplicity ; industry and indo
lence ; bravery and timidity ; eoououiy
an 4 prodigality; candor and .Cininiug.
TJiere are a great many singular things
in nature; but we know of nothing
more singular than that of pairs or op
posites. It is very probable that noth
ing can he found in all nature but that
there is a pair or its opposite. Many
things in nature are singularly strange ;
but it would seem flint this is one
amongst the strangest of them all.
Libert. Tyro.
Swallows Attack a Mun.
Utica tltynvr.
One mile and forty b£ds ntirtli of the
beautiful village New Yark.
resides Mr. Andrew Recent
ly lie started to walk fa llm village.
Swinging along with qis wopteij sfriile,
anil reaching a point jvithiq hajfa mile
of his
tracted by the strange action of a large
flock of swallqws, hoyeripg low down
over tlie sidewalk, flying rapidly hither
in great qjtcltcftlent, As lie apnrpddicii
them; Tiflti' wfibn' ttrtiW, J YHtdf
| evinced no fear of his presence, and in
stead of flying away on his entrance
among them, they pressed around him
in great numbers, and almost immedi
ately attacked him with their sharp bills
with great fury. At first he was dis
posed to treat the attack as a Rival mat
ter, and attempted to brush them away
with his hands; hut the few thus dis
placed were immediately replaced by
myriads more, darting, chattering and
piercing him with their sharp bills like
“the flight of a cloud of arrows.” Their
immense numbers and persistent charges
were so great that lie was soon thrown
to the ground. Now thoroughly alarm
ed, he struggled to his feet; covering his
eyes and face with one hand as weii as
possible, he endeavored with the other
to wrest from the fence at his side a
stake or picket with which to defend
himself, but not succeeding, and the
wild and infuriated little warriors still
increasing their attack, he was forced
to fight them again with bis hands, when
again he was thrown to the ground.
Now really terrified for his life, he pull
ed his coat over his face and head for
protection, regained his feet and fled for
Ids life, but they did not pursue him far.
Exhausted, and with his hands bleeding,
he reached the village, convinced that
he had a narrow escape.
Scenting Stud'.
A long, lean, gaunt Yankee, entered
a drug store and asked :
“ Be ye the drugger?”
“ Well, 1 suppose I am—l sell drugs.”
“Well, hev you got any of this scent
ing stuff the gals put on their handker
chiefs?”
“ (), yes.”
“ Wall, our Sal's gwinetobc married,
and she gin rne liinepcnce. and told me
to get the hull ’mount in scentin’ stuff’,
so’s to make her sweet, if 1 could find
some to suit, so if you’ve a mind, I’ll
smell around.”
'l'he Yankee smelled round without
being suited until the “ drugger ” got
tired of him, and taking down a bottle
of hartshorn, said:
“ I’ve got a scenting stuff that will
suit you. A single drop on a handker
chief will stay for weeks, and you can’t
wash it out; but to get the good of it
you must take a good smell.”
“Is that so, Mister? Wall.jist hold
on a rninit till I git breath, and when I
say ‘ neow,’ you put it under my smel
ler.”
The hartshorn, of course, knocked
the Y'ankee down, as liquor lias many a
man. I)o you suppose he got up and
smelt again, as the drunkard does? Not
he; but rolling up his sleeves and doub
ling up his fists, he said :
“ You made me smell that tarnel ev
erlasting stuff', Mister, and now I will
make you smell fire and brimstone!”
That little Hartwell Sen is a bril
liant and lusty bantling. — Old. Capital.
Mil. lOtKWOOIPS GRIEVANCE.
■ ■ ’ by MAX AXJELKR. /*.
—i \ “
During tlie last, trip I took over tho
Pneiflo railroad. I noticed that after wo'
left Omaha the man in the scat in front
of me appeared fo-hatwsottiothing upon
bis mind. He wodld fieowl dreadfully*
for a inorntmt, then be worfld gate wFW
a far-away look out of Ifis witkkny.
Then he would draw a huge bowfc'-kjufw
from his citat packet, iiiyi, a art j’
ping ij, upon his boot, lie woulif run fiiar
thumb along tiie rdgrt. AfNVseowHn-r
a, few gi'mutes more, he woufyl take yut
a revolver, examine lhe*’b< , *nbttri,
assqre •hipisell’ .tlicy wore loaded, mut
ter a few vigorous sentences, and put#
it away again.
I watched him a day or two ; and at
last he saw me looking at him. He*
-aid :
* I reckon you think I am dxcitcih
about something ? Well.A ami 1 F anv
going ftp to Salt Lake to kill a litan."
“ Indeed v Jiow terrjhlq! What's tho
matter f” I . .. t u gil e.fT .1
“ Well, you see—by the way, do yoii
know Jim Stephens ?”VtWn > > av< l.
No. i|n! I Hunk not.” *■
•* Well,‘tills is the Way It camh about:
Twelve J3m ifrul T werfe friefld^ 1
am,l wheo 1 gob nuu'rieil d.iui pnajc intff
a. present of tin* most splendid .rtHvjwl
cake basket you ever snw ia your lifuJfl
r Thaf'S'liot what yon are going to
kill him for, isdtif” "i.. i .11
“Of course not! And I fait so?
grateful that 1 took him by the hand,
and s;pd h j Jim, J'lj ftet J Oll a <^ ko
kqt as hanutjuiuc uf find whenever yog,
urc married.las sure as fny name is.bm
atlian lockwood.’ .'*Mad him a solemn
pledge, you know."
“ Hid he marry sidwoquently ?f f
“Marry? O thuftrter! Let inetelfl
you about ft. 1 AbmtPn rear rtffbf h<£'
went f? Utah and became a Mormon.
Within a mouth he sent roe cards far
Ids wedding with Hannah Watson. So
I went, out and bought a sublime cake
basket, and forwarded it by express.
Two weeks later ho wrote to say that
Hannah's sister, Ethelbertn, had been
sealed to him, and he asked me out to
the wedding.”
“ 1 )id you go ?”•
“No; hut I sent him another cake
lmskct. But hardly had a fortnight
ellipsis! when Stephens telegraphed to
two that, as oliljdrs. Watson, Hannah’s
and Etlqilberta’s mother, seemed so
lonely tv of that the girls were gone, he
had (SirtMlfltFt'i Ito annex her, also. He
proj^;<3f'Tb?‘ i send full particulars by
limit, gjjs.,yight a third resplendent
cake banket went west in charge of the
I express.copigany.”
“ paid him' three to one,
then”,
“ Tine* ?..*Wait till I get done.
Wall, 1 hesnlMiotliing more from him
for a year or more, When one day cards
came for his marriage with Louisa G.
('arboy. I was pretty poor about that
time, and hardly able to make presents
to anybody, but I had pledged my word ;
so out went another imposing cake
basket.”
“ Did he get it ?”
*• lie wrote and said his darling
Louisa thought it was beautiful, and he
added a postscript, in which he men
tioned that lie had arranged for a fur
ther consolidation on the following
Thursday with Helena Ililkersham, re
lict of old Ililkersham, the popular hat
ter.”
“ Did yon respond ?”
“ I did; 1 borrowed some money
from a friend, and forwarded the most
stupendous cake basket I could find.
At the same time I wrote to him and
asked him if he didn't think it time to
knock oil'. 11c replied and said lie was
sorry I had such narrow views about
matrimony, particularly as lie had
everything ready for another marriage
on the following Tuesday with Mary
.lane Willmrfurce, a charming girl of
property.”
You didn’t send one to her, did
you ?”
“Of course! Couldn't break my
word ! She got the most impressive
cake, basket I could lay my hands oil.
Well, Stephens didn't stop there. That
was two years ago. lie has married
eight times since, and I have come to
time promptly with the cake basket.
Three days ago I received notice that
lie was going to marry again.”
“ Again ?”
“ Yes, again ! That, you know, lets
him out! What does the man mean '(
Does he suppose that I own a cake
basket, factory, where they turn ’em out
with a crank ? Does he suppose 1 have
a mine where we excavate baskets by
the bushel ? lias he got an idea that
cake baskets grow on a tree, and that
all I've got to do is to knock ’em down
witli a pole when they arc ripe ? Why,
he’s an unmitigated ass ! And, as he
won’t let me olf from my promise, I’m
going out to massacre him. You un
derstand '{ In less than three days
there'll be a dozen or so widows in Salt
Lake City going to see a man named
Stephens buried.”
Then Mr. Lockwood turned gloomi
ly away, sharpened liis knife again on
his boot, and relapsed into silence.
It was a little hard on him, I think r
myself.
A fair and buxom New England
widow, who had buried three husbands,
recently went with a gentleman, who,
in iiis 3’ounger days, had paid her
marked attention, to inspect the graves
of her dear departed. After contem
plating them in mournful silence, she
murmured to her companion : “Ah !
James, 3-011 might have been in that row
now if you had 01113- had a little more
courage.”