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A WILD WESTERN ADVENTURE.
San/'ranri*co Uuldtn Era.
Sam S. Hall, “Buckskin Sam.” and
old Rip Ford were trapping in the Ar
kansas River region. They were men
of desperate courage, who had taken
their lives in their hands too often to
care for the danger they were exposed
to. Old Rip was a man who stood five
feet eleven in his moccasins—a man
whom you would hardly care to meet
in the close tug of a desperate battle.
His hard,'brown face was seamed with
scars from bullet, knife, and claws of
wild beasts, and his muscular body
showed the marks ol many a desper
ate struggle. “Bncksin Sam” was
the beau ideal of a mountaineer and
plains man, the Western hunter. Al
though not so powerful as Old Rip. he
was a man of great personal strength
and desperate courage. For many a
year these two had roamed the trap
ping grounds together, fighting Indians,
grizzlies, and wolves, chased by night
over the burning praries, defending
their camp against the sudden attacks
of red fiends.
They had been out all winter, and,
spring approached, the last cache was
covered, and the trappers now began to
think of returning home. The camp
was built up near the river, a tributary
of the Canadian, which flowed through
dismal canons in which the light of day
never shows, under the shadow of gi
gantic ctfffs upon which human beings
never yet set foot, and only spreading
out at places where the cunning beaver
had built his dam. The river was bro
ken by great rapids, and abounded in
rare fish, upon which they had feasted
royally for many a day. They had a
canoe, and had been discussing the
stream in order to save time.
“ I am ready to take the chances, if
you are. Rip,” said Sain ;
“ I don’t like to give myself away,”
said Rip. “ What do you know about
the river after we get down to the big
canon, ttnd who passed through it ?”
“ That's the fun of the thing. Rip.
We do what no one else dare do,” said
Sam.
“ I don’t like it,” replied Ford, who
was by far the more prudent of the two.
“I—ha! what in Jehu is that ?” They
seized their weapons, and ran to the
door of the hut, in time to see a dozen
Indians running down through the
grass, blocking .up the only way of
escape. The moment the repeating
rifles began to play upon them, they went
out of sight among the rocks, and be
gan their gradual approach, which could
only end in one way—the white trap
pers would be overwhelmed !
“ There’s only one chance, Rip,”
cried Sam.
“And that ?”
“ The canoe.”
“ I am 3’our man,” cried the giant
trapper. “ Yon push the canoe into the
water and throw r in the weapons while
I keep those fellows at bay. Oh, you
would ? Take that.”
An Indian had raised his tufted head
to get a better shot at the trappers, but
before he could get back, the unfailing
eyes of the trapper had looked through
the double sights and the rifle cracked.
The Indian sprung suddenly to his feet.
spun sharp around upon his heel and
fell dead in his tracks.
The next moment the canoe shot
from the bank and headed down
through the boiling flood, plunging in
the canon below so rapidly that the In
dians had scarcely time to recover from
their amazement at the sudden exodus
before the trappers were out of sight.
One of the Indians bounded to his feet
and uttered a low signal whoop, and
two large canoes, containing in all
about fifteen men, rounded the point in
the river above the canon and came
flying down under the stroke of the
paddles. The Indians on the shore
simply pointed down the stream, and
the canoes dashed by at a furious speed,
the wild yell of the paddlers announc
ing to the white men that they were
pursued. The first rapid passed, they
entered a long s ream of water where
the current was only four or five miles
an hour, and there the propelling iorce
in the other canoes began to tell, and
the Indians gained rapidly.
On each side of the canoe the canon
was a wall, 200 feet in height and the
trappers, could only put all their
strength in the paddles and dash on as
fast they could. Two miles further and
the pursuing canoes were scarcely a
hundred yards behind, the Indians yell
ing like demons as they saw the white
men almost within their grasp. Rip
Ford shook his head as he looked over
his shoulder, when suddenly his canoe
was seized by a mighty force and hurl
ed downward, like a bullet from a riHe.
They had struck another rapH* more
powerful than the first, the rocks abso
lutely seemed to fly past them.
“ this is something like it,” cried the
daring Buckskin Sain. “ llow we do
move.”
“I should say we did, old boy,” re
plied Rip. “I am only afraid we are
moving too fast.”
“ Don’t you believe it: those fellows
seem to be standing still, said Sam.
“They will get in the current in a
moment,” gasped Rip. “Look at that.
The headmost canoe of Indians ap
peared upon the crest of the rapids, and
came flying down after the trappers at a
furious speed. The Indians no longer
used their paddles with the exception of
the man who sat at the stern, and by a
touch on the water, now at one side,
now at the other, regulated the course
of the canoe. The second canoe follow
ed in a moment, a little further in shore.
As they gazed, the bow of the last canoe
was suddenlv lifted into the air as it
VOL. Ill—NO. 14.
struck a brown rock in the channel,
which the occupants tried in vain to
avoid. The fierce current caught the
stern, and in un instant there was noth
ing left of the craft save broken frag
ments, while the occupants with loud
shrieks of terror, were borne swiftly on
by the resistless tide. “ That ends them,”
said Rip Ford. “Be careful, Bam, for
your life!”
On, on, borne by the power which
they could not resist, the two canoes
were hurried. There was a scene of
w ild uxultution in the hearts of the w hite
men, for they could see that their enemy
' would have gladly escaped if they could
from the perils that surrounded them.
Their mad desire for scalps and plunder
had led them into a trap, and they no
longer thought of the canoe in advance.
They knew, as the whites did not, the
terrible danger before them, for they had
explored the banks of the stream on foot
many times. The river suddenly nar
rowed, and the trappers rushed into a
canon barely twenty feet wide and
nearly roofed over by the cliff' on each
side. The current was not quite so rapid
here, and they guided their canoe easily.
“ This gets interesting, Rip,” said
Sam as they went on through the liar
row pass. “We are going”—“To our
death,” interrupted Rip Ford, in a sol
emn voice. “Do you hear the falls?”
Through the splash of water and the
dip of the paddles they heard a low,
dead, tremulous roar, which was the
sound of falling water. For a moment
the bronzed face of Sam blanched, and
then he drew his figure up proudly, say
ing : “ Better than the scalping-knife or
stake, old friend. As the Frenchman
says “ Vive la mort!” Long live deash !”
It was, indeed, before them, for as
they shot out of the narrow' pass they
saw the falls —how high they could not
tell, hut the smoke which arose showed
that it was not a small one. “ Keep
her head to it,” cried Rip. “If wedon’i
get through, it’s good-bve forever,Sam !’
• The swift current caught them, and
the canoe, hurled forward with terrible
force, went flying toward the verge. A
moment more and it shot out into the
mist and went down into the unknown
depths. Each man clung to his pnddk
as lie went down, held by an invisible
power, whirled to and fro, as in a
malestrom, and then shot up into the
light below the falls. Far below them
the canoe floated, and as the current
swept them down the. two men looked
back in time to see the Indian’s canoe
come over the falls sideways w ithout an
occupant. It was hurled far out and
fell lightly cm the water, only to he ar
rested by the strong arm of Buckskin
Sam
The Indians, appalled by their dan
ger, had upset the canoe in their frantic
efforts to escape. What became of them
the trappers never knew, for when they
reached the foot of the rapid far below
the falls, and righted the canoe, they
made no pause, but hurried down the
stream, and before night were safely
floating in the waters of the Canadian
River. Two days later they reached
Fort Sill in safety.
An Obliging Hotel Huest.
The other evening a kind-looking old
man was escorted to a room on the
third floor of a hotel to pass the night,
and it was not five minutes before the
bell indicated that he wanted to see a
waiter. A colored boy ran up, ducked
his head into the room, and asked what
was wanted. The old man said he
didn’t want anything, but the waiter
was hardly down stairs before the bell
rang again.
“ Did you w ant suflin ?” he inquired
as he reached the room again.
“ Nothing,” replied the old man as
he opened the door.
In about two minutes the bell rang
again, and this time the waiter ex
claimed :
“If you don’t want nuffin what aVe
ye.jinllin.de bejl forf”,
“I want to oblige' the waiter,” re-:
plied the did mail.
“Dewatah? Oblige de watali ?”
“ Yes ; it says here, ‘ Please ring the
hell for the waiter,’ and if he wants it
rung I am willing to oblige him, al
though I’m tired and sleepy, and shall
not pull it more than four times more
un'ess I know that some of his family
are sick.”
He was tall and awkward, and she
was short and bashful; both wore a
nervous aspect of exceeding great joy.
They entered a hotel in St. Louis, and
after he had registered his name and
lady, he said to the clerk : See here,
mister, me and my wife have just been
spliced, and I am'just going to show
Amanda the town if it takes a mule a
day. Now give us one of those rooms
like the temple of Solomon, you know.
The clerk called to a hall boy and
said, show this gentleman to the bridal
chamber. At this, the tall rustic be
came instantly excited. Not by a long
shot! ye slimy-haired, biled-sliirted,
dollar-breast-pinncd, grinning monkey,
! yon can’t play that on me ! If I am
from the country, ye don’t catch me
and my wife lodging in your dog-goned
: old harness room.
HARTWELL, GA., WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER 27, 1878.
I•• NiiALi, hi: k\oh each other
THERE TANARUS”
BY LK.NO.
TF rittm for The Hartwell Sun.
In that beautiful world, that City of Light,
IVhostjoys tlic saints of all agesshall share.
| Where day never fades into shadows of
night,
j Shall we know each other there?
! On that evergreen shore where the palm
trees grow.
Where bright pearly gates stand ever ajar.
Where o’er diamond pebbles the crystal
waves flow.
Shall we know each other there?
When beneath verdant boughs with lus
cious fruit gemmed,
Past toils with the joys of Heaven we com
pare.
Shall we recognize all in that sainted
throng?—
Shall we know each other there ?
As oft we shall meet, oil the golden paved
street.
With dear ones of old, whose love we
prized here.
Shall their eyes sparkle then with the same
love light;
Shall we know each other there ?
Will we recognise those who have soothed
our woes,
Who loved us and helped us our burdens
to bear,
On whose loving breasts we’ve nestled to
rest?—
Shall we know each other there?
Can the voices whose sweetness our souls
thrilled on earth,
Ripple strange new tones on Eden's pure
air.
And touch not the heart that responded of
yore ?
We shall know each other there.
Through the soul’s dim windows though
darkly we see.
For we look through tears of sorrow and
care.
Yet we know our friends here. Then “as
we arc known.”
We shall know each other there.
If o’er the direful gulf ’twist Hades and
bliss.
The beggar transformed to angel so fair,
Was still known by Dives, from depths of
despair.
We shall know each other there.
When far above the brightness of sum
mer's noon sun,
Our Savior’s face did radiant appear,
if Moses and Elias to Peter were known,
We shall know each other there.
There, no lack of knowledge shall happi
ness mar;
Our souls shall quaff all the joy they can
bear
And daily drink deeper of fountains of
bliss.
We shall knoxo each other there.
HER BODY FOR DISSECTION.
Hl!i Elizabeth R. Itruiivou'ft Very Re
markable Will.
.V. I". Sun.
In the New York Medical College and
Hospital for Women an autopsy on the
body of Miss Elizabeth 11. Branson was
made under peculiar circumstances yes
terday. About nine months ago Mi's.
Dr. C. 8. Lozier, one of the founders of
the college, received a letter from Miss
Branson, who asked to be received as a
free patient in the college, enumerating
some of the characteristics of her disease,
and offering, as an inducement, to per
mit her body, after her death, to be dis
sected for the benefit of science. She
was then in Philadelphia. Mrs. Lozier,
having received many applications for
free beds, was obliged to reply that the
institution could not take any more free
patients. She said that the value of her
body Vor dissection would be no adequate
■ ompensation, because, under the laws
of the State, subjects arc provided from
the unclaimed dead in the hospitals at
the low rate of $5 each. Several months
afterward Mrs. Lozier received word
from Dr. Holbrook of Laight street that
Miss Branson had decided to enter the
hospital, and that her friends would de
fray the necessary expenses. Miss Bran
son came to New York about seven
weeks ago', and remained in the hospital
.until Tuesday last, when she died. Her
story was that she was the daughter of
Isaiah Branson, a Quaker, of Chelsea,
Wayne County, Indiana. She was
about 49 years of age. At the age of
23 she was one of a number of guests
who were poisoned in a hotel in Cincin
nati. From that time she dated her ill
ness, and for twenty-six years she had
had abcesses and ulcers. Her suffering
caused her to study medicine, and for a
hrng time she supported herself by teach
ing and lecturing. She was engaged in
Boston in 1870 with Dr. Dio Lewis, and
at the Centennial Exhibition in 1870,
in attending the Butler health lifting
cure, but gradually the exertion became
too great for her and she was obliged
to desist. She was fully aware, on en
tering the hospital, that she had an in
curable cancer. She was of medium
stature and build, with a high, intellect
ual forehead, dark-blue eyes and chest
nut hair. She won the affections of all
who went near her. Mrs. Lozier says
that in all her practice she never met a
woman w ith more heroic fortitude under
excruciating pain. Every minute of
the last few months that she was not
under the influence of anesthetics she
was in agony, and yet she smiled, regret
ted that she was giving trouble, and of
ten said to her attendants: “Oh, I last
so long.”
About a month Hgo Mrs. Lozier was
surprised by receiving from Miss Brun
son a document which she said was her
will. On examination, it proved to he
the gift of her body for dissection, for
the benefit of the college. The will
rends ns follows:
“ I, Elizabeth Branson, late of Leba
non, Ohio, now of New York City, be
ing of sound mind and memory, and
considering the uncertainty of life, do
make, publish, and declare this to be
my last will and testament concerning
the disposition of my body as follows :
I give niv body to the New York
Medical College for Women, of which
Clcnicnce S. Lozier, M. l).,is President,
for such scientific uses as she and the
faculty of said college may designate.
The following uses I suggest: First—
that a full examination of the diseased
parts be made, and that minutes he kept
for the benefit of all who may wish to
investigate. Second —that after exami
nation the body he dissected for the ben
efit of the students of said college.
Third —that the skeleton he well mount
ed, and then preserved forthe use of said
college and its students, with my name
and the circumstances of my death.
I hereby appoint Clcmence S. Lozier,
M. I)., as above, to be executrix of this
my last will and testament, and give
her full power and authority to act w ith
out giving anv bonds or writing for any
legal formalities except suen us are ab
solutely demanded by the statutes of
New York.
In making this bequest lam actuated
solely by the love of science and a de
sire to contribute to its progress.
In witness whereof I have hereto sub
scribed my name and affixed my seal,
in the city of New York, this Bth day
of October, 1878.
Elizabeth R. Branson, M. D.”
The signature is in a full, round, bold
hand, and the witnesses are Charles S.
Boyce and M. L. Holbrook, who ap
pend the following:
Subscribed by Elizabeth 11. Branson,
the testatrix named in the foregoing w ill,
in the presence of each of us, at the
time of making such subscription, and
the above instrument by the said testa
trix to her last will and testament.
Each of ms -have, at the request of the
testatrix, and in the presence of each
other, signed our names ns witnesses
thereto.
Charles S. Boyce, Norwalk, O.
M. L. Holbrook, 13 Laight St., N. Y.
Several weeks before her death, Miss
Branson talked with composure of the
w ill that she had made, and spoke of
the benefit to the college and to science
that she thought would follow the dis
section of her body.
In obedienoe to her request, those who
had known and talked with her, met
yesterday in the dissecting room. Be
sides Mrs. Lozier, Prof. Carmichael,
Prof. Dcnforth, Prof. Dillon of the fac
ulty, Dr. Hills, Dr. Marv Briuckmann,
Dr. Holbrook, and Dr. Doyce, were 30
students. Every one present was famil
iar with Miss Branson’s story,, her de
votion to the science of medicine, and
heard lierdying words :“ Thank you all,
dear ones, who have done so much for
me.”
Whether that part of the will requir
ing the skeleton to he prepared and pre
sented to the college shall he carried in
to cffei t is a matter of doubt, because
there is no money to defray the expense,
.unless someone volunteers to pay for it.
The heavy mortgage on the hospital
property ot Thirty-seventh street and
Lexington avenue is held by the Stein
wavs, and it is feared that the decline in
real estate that lias swamped so many
private fortunes will reach the hospital.
A similar disposition was made by Dr.
Warren of Boston to the institution in
which lie was a professor. Mrs. Lozier
said that she had often contemplated
disposing of her own body, and that she
had argued the subject with her son,
Dr. A. W. Lozier, and bis wife, J. De
la Montagnie Lozier, who were rather
opposed to it. “It is better than cre
mation,” she said.
New Process of Digestion.
Athena Chronicle.
“Is it true, (4. Dub,” asked one of
an inquiring mind, “ that you swallow
ed sand lor dyspepsia !”
“Yes,” answered G. Dub, “I did,
and if you will wait a little while, I’ll
tell you about it:
“ You sec, I have never looked at a
human stomach, hut in sausage time. I
took a pig stomach. I cut it open and
found whar the corn and such like went
in, and then I turned it over and found
whar it went out in the bowels, I jist
looked at it, and tliar was a little sort
of a door to flop down until the corn
was all churned up in the stomach, and
all around it looked like puckering
strings, to keep it tight and close. I
thought that a human’s stomach must
be jist like it—leastways, I have often
seen folks that reminded me of hogs.
May be this little door and these puck
ering strings in rne was out of order.
I jist thought they must be too small or
they must lie covered with something,
and every time when what I eat want
ed to go out of the stomach, it couldn’t;
WHOLE NO. 118.
and it would git sorters our and ferment
and churn up; and then I’d have to
(ling it tip. 1 got so worried and mad,
that I thought I’d try and flx the thing.
All the doctors around had given me
enough truck to kill a horse, but it
never done a domed bit -of good. I
coifldn’t look at a bottle—l mean a
clear glass one—without making a face.
These dark bottles, holding about a
quart, don’t have no such effect on me.
-Durn the doctors! 1 have taken
enough tonics and bitters and ’lixirs to
swim in, and there is no telling how
much bismuth and something they call
saccharated pepsin, but it ain’t a blast
ed thing but a pig stomach or chicken
gizzard all ground up; in fact, it’s
enough to make a fellow sick to think
about it. much less take it. I thought
if they hadn’t killed me after trying so
hard, I’d try a spell myself. So I
thought if 1 could jist git something to
rifle out this opening to my stomach
and cut away the phlegm that I thought
was thar, I’d hit it on the head. I
thought about it for a long time, and
often seeing the chickens picking sand,
I thought if it did them good, maybe it
would me. So I went to the branch
and got about a bushel of the purtiest,
j clearest sand I could find, and I washed
it jest as clean ns it could be until I only
had about a half-gallon left. It looked
: s clean, bright and shiny as glass. I
took a tenspoouful three time s a day. It
jist seemed to me 1 could feci the sand
scouring and gouging away at my in
wards. Anil it made me laugh when I
thought how that little door would Hop,
and how them puckering strings would
sorter tingle as the sand was rubbing
and grinding all the phlegm off. It ap
peared to me that I was 1 letter, hut I
don’t know. I have taken enough
darned stuff to fill one side of a drug
store. Leastways, I was no worse—
and nobody can sav I haven’t got any
sand in my gizzard—if I’ve got one.
That’s why I took that sand.”
A Man not to be Frightened by Trifles.
Little Lock Gazette.
A cruel joke was played on a man
last night by a drug clerk. He medi
cated a glass of whisky, with some
harmless liquid, and placed it where a
troublesome frequenter of the house
would get it. The man came in, and
the clerk busied himself among the
bottles. Turning around he saw that
tlie glass was empty.
“ Wonder what become of that stuff?
I had just, fixed it up to use as bed bug
poison. Somebody must have turne 1
it over.”
“ I turned it over.”
“ Did you get any of it on you 1”
“ I think I did.”
“ You'd better wash yourself, for it
was as poisonous as a snake.”
“ What was in it ?”
“ Why, it was half prussic acid.”
“ What was the other half?”
“ Whisky, I believe.”
“Are you sure the other LMf was
whisky ?”
“ Yes, but I’m more certain in regard
to the acid.”
The man sat down and exhibited so
little concern that the clerk referred to
the subject again.
“ I'm very glad that no one drank it.
I’ve been watching it pretty closely, for
the proprietor has a habit of drinking j
everything he can get his hands on.”
“ I’m glad the proprietor didn't drink
it.”
“ Why ?”
“ Because I drank it myself.”
“Great heavens man, you are dead.”
“ Hardly.”
“ Why, my dying friend it was my
bug poison.”
“ I'm not a bug.”
“ But you’ll die just as certain as you
live.”
“ Didn’t you say that it was compos
ed of one-half whisky ?”
“ Yes, but the other—”
“ any difference about
the other half. I killed the whisky,”
and lie looked around as carelessly as
a justice of the peace when a witness
is being sworn.
Henry County (Ala.) Register: Don’t
get too big lor your breeches just be
cause you are a little prosperous, and
have a few more dollars than some of
your less fortunate neighbors. Many a
man much better off' than you are has
come to his wallet and staff’. Before the!
war we remember to have heard a then
rich man say that he was never to work
in the field. That same man to-day is
ploughing an ox and splitting rails.
Fact —and, if we felt so disposed, could
name him. Go slow on your moonshine
prosperity and riches, for you may yet
tumble. Don’t get the big-head, but
take your prosperity slow—you may
get under the weather, and vet be glad
to have your poor neighbors recognize
you. A poor man is just as good as a
rich one, if not a little better—were it
not for the poor people, this thing called
a world would soon he a nothingness,
and the inhabitants would soon go to
the devil. The poor, and not the rich
man, keeps this world moving. Is he
| entitled to no respect for it? Think and
i consider the matter.
MODERN SAMSONS.
In the last century there lived in
• England a man named Thomas Topham,
who was renowned for his muscular
power. lie could, with case, roll up in
his fingers the pewter platers which
were in fashion at that time, or strike
an iron poker upon Ids arm until he
bent it at right angle. He took a bar
of iron and, placing it behind his neck,
holding the two ends in his hands, he
brought these ends forward until they
met in front, then—a feat which re
quired still more dexterity—he brought
it straight again in a similar manner.
He is said to have lifted with his teeth,
and held out for a time, a wooden table
six feet long, and with half a hundred
weight attached to one extremity.
These performances are recorded by
Dr. Desaguliers, a French scientific
writer, who made it his business to in
vestigate the Ruhject. personally, while
collecting material foroneof his works.
In 1744, living then thirty years of age.
Topham went to Derby and obtained
permission of the authorities to display
iiis prowess in public. A stage was
erected for him, and on this singe,
among other performances, he raised
three casks filled with water, the total
weight of tlie three being‘l,B36 pounds,
and it will be observed that in doing it
lie brought the muscles of his neck and
shoulders particularly into requisition.
The muscular strength of his legs had
been affected by an injury he sustained
during an incautious (experiment. He
had undertaken to pull against two
horses from the trunk of a tree, but,
being unscientific in tin mode of ex
ertion, and placing himself disadvan
tageously, he was defeated, and his
knee-pan was fractured. It was the
opinion of Desaguliers that, had he
I gone properly to work, Topham might
have pulled successfully against four
horses instead of two. The two horse
feat was accomplished in the last cen
tury by a powerful individual, a Ger
man named Yon Eckeburg. This man
sat down on an inclined board, with his
feet stretched against fixed support, and
two strong horses were unable to re
move him from his position. Standing
on a platform, like Topham, h > sustain
ed the weight of a large cannon round
his waist, and. at another time, bending
his body in form of an arch, he allow
ed a stone of more than a foot in thick
ness to be broken upon his abdomen
by the blow of a sledge-hammer. Of
Maurice of Savoy, son of the Elector
Augustus 11.. it is recorded that his
strength of finger was so great that he
could snap iron horse-shoes between his
fingers like pieces of glass, and, on one
occasion, finding himself in want of a
cork-screw, lie took a long nail, and,
with his fingers, twisted it round into
the shape of the implement he required.
Such are some of the feats which the
human body is able to accomplish by
muscular exertion.
(0 West.
Yes, son, yes, yes; go out west and
buy a farm. There is no life so inde
pendent ns that of the honest farmer.
Do not be discouraged if the work is a
little hard at first. The grasshoppers
will eat up all your first planting, hilt
they will devour it so early in the sea
son that you can plant a second time.
They won't eat that planting until just
about three days before harvest. Then
von will have nothing to do all fall and
winter and you can put in your full
time starving. The next year's crop
will be destroyed by constant rains anil
floods. The third year a drouth wilt
burn up everything that has a root or a
leaf within ten miles of your farm. The
fourth year, however, everything will
go well. You will raise a booming crop,
get it all in and safely housed, and sit
down happy and contented, waiting for
the market to rise. Then a prairie fire
will come along and burn up everything
you have in the world except the clothes
you have on. Buy a farm? A young
man is neglectful of his best interests
and most solemn duties who does not
buy a farm right away. — Burlington
Hawk-Eye.
They Were Happy.
They looked sad, and doubtless feltso,
as they stood up against the liorsc-rack.
“ Times arc hard,” sighed one.
“ Wuss than ever before,” tiie other
responded.
“An’ work’s exhaustin’.”
“ Hit draws a man down powerful.”
“ I never saw money so hard to get a
fist Oil.”
“ Yes, hit’s skascr’n lien’s teeth.”
“ But I've got one fif'ty-cent note left,
you bet.”
“ Ah, well, I lmint.”
“ Let's soak her down for drinks.”
“ Now that sounds sumthin’ like re
sumpshun iiv bizness, that do,”
And they hid themselves behind the
screen in a jiffy.
Henry County (Ala.) Register: A
couple of little fellows were overheard,
yesterday, as they Rat in the sand oil
the sunny side of the school-house,
talking as follows : “ Say, Tommy, did
you notice mother shake her head at me
when she passed the pie at dinner to
day ?” “ Yes," answered his compan
ion. “ What did she do that for ?”
“ She always does that when we have
pie and company. She wanted me to
refuse pie. I didn’t though, this time,
and when I go home to-night I’ll get
this ear yanked about an inch and a
half, and then comes the goldarndest
larrtippin’ on my bare legs, and all for
that stingy piece of pie.”
A negro in Oglethorpe has a foot
that actually measures 15 inches long.