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The Calhoun Times.
Volume I.
The CALHOUN TIMES.
RAILROAD 6TREET.
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eounfry.
RAILR< >ai>s.
Western & Atlantic.
night passenger TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Lstva Atlanta **.45 p. m.
Arrive at Calhoun 11-21 a. m.
Arrive at Chattanooga 2 45 a. m.
DAT PASSENGER THAIN— OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 8.15 A. m
Arrive at Calhoun 1-2 P* “•
Arrive! at Chattanooga 5.30 P. M.
ACCOMOD TION TRAIN—OUTWARD.
Leave Atlanta 530 P. a.
Arrive at Dalton 3.80 P. a.
night passenger train—inward.
Leave Chattanooga 7.50 P. a.
Arrive at Calhoun.,.. 11.21 p. a.
Arrive at Atlanta 4 00 a. m.
h DAT [PASSENGER TRAIN—INWARD.
Leave Chailanoo/a s -30 A. a.
Arrive at Calhoun 244 a. u
Arrive at Atlanta 3.00 P. a.
accomodation train - inward.
Leave Dalton 200 p u
Arrive et Atlanta .... 11.00 a. m.
PROFESSIONAL CARDS. _
W. S. JOHNSON,
Attorney At Loav,
CA LIIO UN, , GE OR GTA.
Hgr Office in Southeast corner of the
llourt House.
Aug 11 1 If
I. C. FAIN. JOS. M’CONNELL.
fain and McConnell,
yVttovne.ys at Law,
CALHOUN, GEORGIA.
mr Ollice in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 ts
R. M. TARVER,
Attornoyat Law,
CAUIOUN, GEORGIA.
tsjT Office in the Court House.
Aug 11 1 ts
W. j 7 CANTRELL,
Attorney At Law.
Calhoun, Georgia.
WILL Practice in the Cherokee Circuit,
in U. S. District Court, Northern Dis
triet of Georgia, (at Atlanta); and in the Su
preme Court of the State of Georgia.
E. «T. KIKEH ,
Attorney at Law,
CAIJIOUN, GEORGIA.
[ Office at the. Old Stand of Cantrell if Kiker. J
ITTILL practice in all the Courts of the
TT Cherokee Circuit; Supreme Court of
Georgia, and the United States District Court
*t Atlanta, Ga. augl9’7oly
RUFE WALDO THORNTON,
DENTIST,
Calhoun, - - - G, o.igia.
THANKFUL for *onner patronage, solicits
a continuance j* the same.
Office orer Boaz. Barrett & Co's. sepls
DR. D .C. HUNT,
Physician and Druggist,
CAUIOVN, GA.
New Management!
CALHODNHOTEL
E. R. SASSEEJt,
[ Formerly of Atlanta, Ga.]
RESPECTFULLY announces to the travel
ling public, that he has refurnished and
iefitted the above hotel, and is now ready to
accommodate all who may stop with him.
hates moderate; and table furnished with
the best the market affords.
Calhoun, Ga., August 19th, 1870—ts
jTdTtixsley.
WATCH-MAKER
AN!)
JEWELER,
' ALIIOUX, : : : : GEORGIA.
o
A Lb styles of Clocks, Watches and Jewelry
“A neatly repaired and warranted.
augl9'7otf
CALHOUN
SALE AND
LIVERY STABLE!
u. R. BOAZ,
|\ ' FINE STOCK, ami Vehicles to
correspond, and is at all times pre
pared to furnish any kind of
at S on veyanco,
LIP* 1 ' 0 " Rates FOR CASH,
tern r bought and Bold on reasonable
■ul 1 ,ts
ROME ADVERTISEMENTS.
“Home Again..”
J. C. RAWLINS, Prop’r.
CHOICE HOTEL
BROAD ST., ROME, GA.
Passengers taken to and from the Depot Free
of Charge ocU> 70tf
TENNESSEE HOUSE,
ROME, GEORGIA,
j. A. STANSBURY, Proprietor.
rpHK above Hole is heated within Twenty
J S'e:-s o' th. Kaiiroad Platform Baggy®
handled ft** »t Charge. ° tG ,U f
i'itu'er. henry h. smith!
PITNER & SMITH,
Wholesale and Retail
Grocers & Commission Merchants
mmm - VU ,IRX -’ IRH "GEORGIA.
octfi,lß7o-ly
colcloughT
HARKINS &
GLOVER,
Homo, G-a.,
CALL the attention of dealers to the fact
that they have just received the largest
stock of
Dry Goods, Boots, Shoes, &c.,
ever offered in the Cherokee country, and
can furnish them at exactly New York prices.
Call and be convinced. sept 22 70-ly
Bones, Brown & Cos., I J. &. S. Bones & Cos.,
Augusta, Ga. Home, Ga.
Established 1825. J Established 1809.
J. &S. BONES & CO.
ROME, CjtA.
IMPORTERS
AND
Wholesale Dealers
IN
HARDWARE,
CUTLERY, QUfIS, sc,
WILL offer for sale, the coming season :
350 Tons Swedes Iron,
75 Tons “Jenka” Plow Steel,
A LARGE LOT OF
Imported Cutlery and Files,
Together with a full assortment of GEN
ERAL HARDWARE.
WE are Agents for It. IIOE & CO'S. Pat
ent Inserted Tooth Circular Saws; Machine
Belting, Orange Rifle Powder, and Rome
Iron Manufacturing Co’s. Merchant Bar Iron
and Nails.
All of above to compete with any House
South. nov!7’7o-4m
~W. T. ARCHER,"
Wholesale and Retail Dealer in
Mattresses, Looking-Glasses,&c.
All of which lam offering at extremely low
p "ices.
82 Whitehall st., : ATLANTA, GA.
novl7’7o-3m
J. H. CAVAN,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALER IN
Fine Wines, Liquors & Cigars,
No. 11 Granite Bloch,
Broad Street, - ATLANTA, GA.
AGENT FOR THE SALE Or THE
Celebrated Cincinnati LAGER BEERand ALE
sept 29 For the State of Georgia. 3m
GT H. & A. W. FORCE,
SIGN OF THE
BIG IRON BOOT,
Whitehall Street, : : : Atlanta, Ga.
BOOTS. Shoes and Trunks, a complete Stock
and new Goods arriving daily! Gents’
Boo*s and Shoes, of the best makes. Ladies’
Shoes of a'l kinds. Boys, Misses and Children’s
Shoes of every grade and make.
wr We are prepared to offer inducements to
Wholesale Trade. sept 2 ,’7O-1 v
BETTERf ON7FORD & Cos.,
WHOLESALE DEALERS IN
1111 IMS. U lllSkllX
Wines, Tobaccos, Cigars, &c.,
NO. 209. MARKET ST., No. 209.
CHATTANOOGA, TKNX.
0ct13,1870-ly
(.ESTABLISHED IN 1855.)
J.O.MATHEWSON.
PRODUCE
COMMISSION MERCHANT
AUG UJSTA, GEORGIA.
sept 22 1870 ly
Established in 1850.
T. R. RIPLEY,
Removed to Peachtree Street,
ATLANTA, GEOBGIA.
Wholesale Dealer in
CROCKERY & GLASSWARES,
WILL duplicate any Bills bought in any
Market, to the amount of One Hun
dred Dollars, and upwards, adding Freight.
P. S. All Goods guaranteed as represented
from khia Ileus* Aug 19 It
CALHOUN, GA., THURSDAY, JANUARY 19,1871.
rok r r it v .
ROWING AGAINST THE TII>E.
It is easy to glide when it ripples,
Adown the stream of time,
To flow with the course of the river,
Like music to some old rhyme.
But oh! it takes courage and patience
Against the current to ride,
And we must have strength from Heaven
When rowing against the tide.
We may float on the river's surface,
While our oars scarce touch the stream,
And visions of early glory
On our dazzled sight may gleam;
We forget that on before us
The dashing torrents roar,
And while we are idly dreaming,
Its waters will carry us o’er.
T> u tfew—ah! would they were many—
And mind neither toil nor strife;
Though weary and faint with labor,
Singing, triumphant they ride,
For Christ is the hero’s captain,
When rowing against the tide.
For on through the hazy distance,
Like mist on the distant shore,
They see the Avails of the city,
With its banners floating o’er—
Seen through a glass so darkly,
They almost mistake their way,
But faitli throws light on their labor,
When darkness shuts out their day.
And shall we be one of that number
Who mind not toil nor pain ?
Shall we mourn our earthly losses
When wc have a crown to gain ?
Or shall we glide on with the river,
With death at the end of our ride,
While our brother, with Heaven before him,
Is roAving against the tide?
jJSaT’ A party of young men were din
ing during Christmas at a public bouse,
and among sundry dishes served up for
the occasion, was a chicken roasted.
One of the gentlemen present made an
attempt to carve it, when he stopped
suddenly and called for the landlord,
who was in another part of the room.
“Landlord,” said he, “you might have
made a great deal more money with this
chicken than by serving it up in this
way.”
“How so?” asked the landlord, star
ing.
“Why, in taking it round the country
to exhibit it.”
“Exhibit a chicken ! Who would give
anything to see a chicken?” said mine
host, getting a little riled.
“Why everybody would have paid to
see this one, for you might have in
formed them. I have no doubt, with
truth: that this is the same rooster that
crowed when Peter denied his Master.”
t
A good story is told of an eccen
tric old gentleman, who was Post Mas
ter in Providence, Rhode Island. A
wag, who thought he would play off
some trick upon him, went to his house
some time in the night, after rapping
loudly for some time, the old man came
to the window,and exclaimed:
“What do you want?” whereupon the
wag replied very coolly:
“Nothing—only I have put a letter
in your box —you will know where it is
to go by the directions on it!”
It is needless to add that the old man
retired in a rage.
A lad, a day or two since, was
called to the witness stand in the Com
mon Pleas Court, whose tender years
raised doubts as to his competency as a
witness by not understanding the nature
and obligations of an oath.
The first question put was, “Are you
a son of the plaintiff ?”
The little fellow, crossing his legs, and
putting about half a paper of tobacco in
his mouth, with the utmost sang froid,
replied—
“ Well, it’s so reported.” He testi
fied.
It is an old story, but a good one,
that tells of a very negligent man who
was going away on a visit to some friends.
His wife extorted from him a solemn
promise that he would abandon his usu
al custom, and put on a clean shirt eve
ry day. So she packed a dozen in his
trunk. When he came home again,his
wife was glad to perceive he had grown
more fleshy ; but she was alarmed when,
on examining his trunk, she discovered
there was not a shirt in it. He had
kept his promise to mount a clean one
every day, but he always put it on over
the others, and now he was sporting
around with a whole dozen on his back !
Some men will never let women have
their way.
£@ n ‘ Dissenting jurymen in Indiana
are sometimes reasoned with by their
colleagues in a singularly forcible man
ner, The arguments used in a recent
ease at Evansville were so strongly put
that the puzzled minority man felt com
pelled to ask elucidations from the judge.
Addressing that functionary, he said :
Ts I believe that tlrt: evidence was one
way, and the other eleven believe differ
ent, does that justify any other juryman
in knocking me down with a chair?”
The judge answered in general terms.
A Cincinnati girl sued a shoemaker
because she couldn’t get inside of a pair
of shoes he made for her. He set up a
plea that leather was scarce, and charged
that she could have got them on easy
enough if she had washed her feet.
A merchant advertising an assort
ment of goods for sale, gives notice that
he will take in payment all kinds of
country produce, except promises.
miscellany -
Escaped from Justice.
It was a bitter night in January a
niuht when homeless wanderers on the i
moors mio-bt have sunk down and frozen
to death, and the very marrow seemed
to congeal in one’s bones.
“There’s one advantage in steam.”
growled a fat old gentleman in the cor
ner seat; “ wind and weather don’t
affect it. No flesh and blood horse
could stand a night like this, but the
iron horse keeps straight ahead, whether
the thermometer is at Zero or a boiling
water heat.”
Just then the conductor entered.
« Tickets, gentlemen, if you please.”
“ It’s a dreadful night, conducter, I
said, feeling with stiffened fingers for
my ticket, in the breast pocket of my
inonconductor. “ Why, the brakemen
can’t live outside, and so I look the
other way when they creep in, poor
fellows to get a breath of warm air at
the stove. We have not had such a
night since a year ago the 2d of Feb
ruary, when Tom Blackslee, the bag
gage master, froze his feet, and a wo
man who was coming on from Chicago
got off at Bunn’s Four Corners, with
her baby in her arms a corpse!”
“ Frozen to death ?”
“ Aye, frozen to death, and she never
thought, poor thing, but it was asleep.
“ My baby’s cold,” says she, “ but we’ll
soon warm it, when we get home.” It
was just such a night as this ?”
And the conductor opened the door
and plunged across the soupling into
the next car, crying out:
“ Hardwick l”
It was quite a considerable city, with
a handsome iron depot, flaring gas lamps
and the usual crowd around the plat
form, with hands in its pockets, and its
cigar ends flaming through the night.
Our car was nearly the last of the
long train, and but one passenger enter
ed it—a slender young girl wrapped in
a gray blanket shawl, and wearing a
neat little traveling hat of gray straw,
trimmed with stone colored velvet flow
ers. She seemed to hesitate, like one
unused to traveling, and finally sat down
near the door.
“ Pardon me, young lady,” said I,
“ but you had better come nearer to the
stove.”
She started, hesitated an instant,
and then obeyed.
“Does this train go to Bayswater?”
she asked in a voice so deliciously soft
and sweet that it seemed to thrill
through me.
“Yes; can I be of any service to
you ?”
“ Oh, no—at least not until we reach
Bayswater. I would like a carriage
then.”
“We shall not be there yet these
three hours ”
“ Do we stop again ?”
“ Only at Fxmouth.”
She drew a deep sigh, seemingly of
relief, and settled back in a corner. By
the light of the lamp that hung in its
brass fixture opposite, I could see her
face, that of a lovely child. Apparent
ly, she was no more than sixteen with
large blue eyes, golden hair, brushed
smoothly back from her face and a little
rosy mouth like that of a baby.
“Do you expect friends to meet you
at Bayswater, my child ?” I asked in
cidentally.
“ No, sir; I am going to school
there.”
“ It will be an awkward hour for you
to arrive at —one in the morning.”
“ O, I am not afraid,” she said, with
an artless little laugh; “I shall go
straight to the seminary.”
So the express train thundered on,
with steady, ceaseless pulsing at its iron
heart, and constant roar.
Suddenly the signal whistle sounded,
the train began to slacken its speed.
“ Surely we are not at Fxmouth yet,”
I thought, “ unless I have fallen un
consciously asleep and allowed the pro
gress of time to escape me.”
I glanced at my watch ; it was barely
half-past eleven, and I knew we were
not due at Fxmouth until after twelve.
I rubbed the frost from the pane and
looked out.
Wc had stopped at a lonely little way
station in the midst of a dense pine
woods.
“ Is this Exmouth ?”
It was the soft voice of the pretty
traveler opposite
“No:—I don’t know what place it
is; some way station.”
“ Does this train stop at way sta
tions ?”
“ Not generally; they must have been
speci illy signalled here. You are cold,
my child ; your voice trembles.”
“It is cold,” she said, in a scarcely
audible voice, drawing her shawl around
her. “ Oh, I wish they would hurry
on !”
“ We are moving once more,” Psaid.
“ Conductor ” —for the man of tickets
was passing through the car—“why
did we stop at that back woods place?”
“ Out of water,” was the reply, as he
hurriedly passed by.
Now I knew perfectly well that this
auswer was not the true solution of the
matter. Our delay did not exceed half
a minute, altogether too short a time for
replenishing the boilers; and where on
earth was the water to come from in
that desolate stretch of barren pine
woods.
Five minutes after, the conductor re
entered the car. I made room for him
at my side.
“Sit down, conductor;'."you’ve noth
ing to do this minute.”
He obeyed.
“ What do you mean by tolling such
a lie just now?”
I spoke uuder my breath ; he replied
in the same tone :
“About what ?”
“About the reason you stopped just
now.”
He smiled.
“ To tell you the truth, I stopped to
take on a single passenger —a gentleman
who has come down from Bayswater.’
“ For the purpose of traveling once
more over the same rout ?”
“ Exactly so—for the purpose of
traveling it in certain society. Don t
be alarmed for your owu safety —it’s a
detective policeman.”
I was about to repeat the words in
astonishment, when he motioned me to
silence.
“ Where is ho ?”
“ The detective ? He sits by the
door yonder, with a ragged fur cap
pulled" over his eyes. D' i.you ever see
dated countryman ?”
I smiled; I could hardly help it.
“ What is the case ?”
"A murder—a man and his wife and
two little children—their throats cut,
last night, and the house set on fire
afterwards.”
“ Great heavens! what a monster!”
We had continued the conversation
throughout in a whisper, scarcely above
our breath, and now the conductor rose
and left me to study the faces of my
fellow passengers, with curious dread
and horror.
Some how, often as I revolved the
matter in my mind, my fancy would
settle on a coarse, gross looking man
opposite, with a bushy beard and shag
gy coat, with the. collar turned up
around his ears. I felt convinced that
this man with the heavy hanging jaw
was the Cain ! and as I looked furtively
cross I caught the wide open blue orbs
of the fair little girl.
Obeying the instantaneous impulse of
my heart, I arose and went over to her.
“ You heard what we were saying,
my child?”
“ Yes—a murder—oh, how horrible!”
“ Do not be frightened—no one shall
hurt you.”
She smiled up in my face with sweet
confiding innocence.
Our stay in Exmouth was but brief;
but during the delay [ could see that
the watchful detective had changed his
seat for one nearer the brutish man in
the shaggy coat.
“ Seo,” faltered the young girl, “ they
locked the car-doors at Exmouth; they
have unlocked them now ”
She was right.
“ Probably they were fearful that the
criminal would escape,” I remarked, in
an undertone.
“ Will you—may I trouble you to
bring me a glass of water ?”
I rose and made my way toward the
ice-cooler by the door, but with diffi
culty, for the train was again under
rapid motion. To my disappointment
the tin goblet was chained to the shelf.
“No matter,” said she, with a win
ning smile, “ I will come myself.”
I drew the water, and held up the
cup; but instead of taking it she vap
proached, she brushed suddenly past
me, opened the door, and rushed out
upon the platform.
“ Stop her ! Stop her !” shouted the
detective, springing to his feet; “ she
will be killed; conductor, brakeman
hold up !”
There was a rush, a tumult., a bustle.
I was first upon the platform ; but it
was empty and deserted, save by a half
frozen looking brakeman, who seemed
horror-stricken.
“ She went past me like a shadow,
and jumped off as we crossed Cairn
turnpike road,” he stammered.
“Jumped off the express train.”
“Well,” said the conductor, shrug
ging his shoulders, “she must have
been killed instantly. What mad folly!”
“ It’s five hundred dollars out of my
pocket, said the detective, ruefully.
“ I didn't want a row before we got
to Bayswater, but I was a confounded
fool. A woman cornered will do any
thing, I believe.”
“What?” I ejaculated, “ you sure
ly, do not mean that child—”
“I mean,” said the detective, calmly,
“ that child as you call her, is Attila
Burton, a married woman of twenty
six years of age, who last night mur
dered four persons in cold blood, and
was trying to escape to Canada —that’s
what I mean.”
The train was stopped, and a party of
us, headed by the conductor and detec
tive, went back to search for any trace
of the beautiful young creature, whose
lovliness and apparent innocence had
appealed so strongly to my sympathies.
Nor was it long before we found her.
lying quite dead by the side of the track,
frightfully mangled by the force of the
fall, and mutilated almost beyond recog
nition.
“ Well she escaped justice in this
world if not in the next,” said the de
tective, gloomily, as he stood looking
down upon her remains.
“Do you suppose she expected to be
able to spring off the moving train
without injury ?” lasted.
“Without much injury; women are
unreasoning creatures. But I never
dreamed of such insane folly or I should
have taken prompt measures to prevent
it.”
They lifted up the dead fair thing,
and carried it to the nearest place of
refuge—a lonely farmhouse among the
frozen hills, and we returned to the
train, reaching Bayswater only a few
minutes behind our regular time.
And when in the next morning’s pa
pers I read an account of the murderess,
I thought of the slender creature’s blue
and rosebud mouth, with a strange
pitying thrill at my heart.
“Call a Man.”
Any one who is disp-.*sed to try a j
laugh, will do well to read on.
John Jackson was a very industrious, .
hard working man. of twenty-three j
years. Being the eldest child, aud the
only son. he had always remained at ,
home, assisting his father upon the farm. ;
John was much respected by every one j
in the neighborhood, and many a bright
eyed girl had secretly thought she would
like to change her name to Mrs. John
Jackson. But John was no ‘ladies’
man.’ The fact was John was very
bashful. He would rather hoe potatoes
all day than undergo the ceremony of
an introduction to a young lady. Not
that he disliked the dear creatures —far
from it. We believe that he, in com
mon with all bashful, well-meaning men.
entertained the very highest admiration
and respect for them. And this, no
bashfulness. lie Teit nf \\iat U nu-y°V! 1 /c
superior beings, and that he vhu* un
worthy to associate with them upon
terms of equality. But we cannot stop
to moralize.
Nancy Clark was the daughter of a
respectable farmer, whose lands adjoin
ed the Jackson farm. Nancy was a
pretty, saucy little weneli. and she liked
John Jackson. When they were chil
dren, they attended the same school,
and as lie was a few years her senior, was
usually her champion in the childish
disputes that arose, and her companion
in going and returning. At last John
became so much of a young man as to
be kept from school, as she had been in
past years. John discovered, too, that
he had been growing in stature, and it
seemed as if he had been growing out of
shape. His feet and legs appeared very
awkward ; he did not know what to do
with his hands; his face pained him,
and, taken all in all, he was inclined to
think that he was not more than half put
together.
Now, the truth was, John Jackson
was really afine looking young man, and
nought but his admiration of Nancy
could have suggested any such foolish
thoughts about himself.
As the novelists say, it was a lovely
day in August. The heavens were clear,
serene and beautiful—the trees were la
den with golden fruit, and the beautiful
birds twittered their songs of love in the
branches. Earth—(there, we’ve slid
down to earth once more; such lofty
heights, they make our head dizzy).—
We were about to say that ‘earth had
yielded her bountiful harvest of a year’s
grass, and clover, and honey-suckles,
which the noble yeomanry of Chester
ville had gathered within their store
houses’—hut upon second thought con
cluded to word it thus : ‘The farmers of
Ohesterville were done haying.’
John’s sister had a quilting that af
ternoon. Ilis father had gone to the
mill, to get some wheat ground, and
John was left to repair some tools, to be
ready on the morrow to commence mow
ing the meadow grass. Suddenly it oc
curred to him that if he remained about
the house in the afternoon, lie would be
called in at tea-time and required to do
the honors of the table. To avoid this,
he quietly shouldered his scythe and
stole away to the meadow, half a mile
distant, fully resolved that he would net
leave there until it was so dark he could
not see to mow, and thus avoid seeing
the girls.
The meadow was surrounded on all
sides by a thick forest, w hich effectually
shut out what little breeze there might
be stirring. The sun poured his rays
as though the little meadow was the fo
cus point where the heat was concentra
ted. John mowed and sweat —sweat
and mowed, until he was obliged to sit
down and cool off. Then it occurred to
him that if he took off his pants he might
be more comfortable. There could be
no impropriety in it. as he was entirely
concealed from observation, and there
was not the slightest reason to suppose
that he could be seen by any person.
So he off. and with no cov
er save his linen—commonly called a
shirt—he resumed his w r ork. lie waR
just congratulating himself upon the
good time he had haying, and the lucky
escape he had made from meeting the
girls, when he chanced to disturb a huge
black snake,* a genuine twister, with a
white ring around his neck.
John w r as no coward, but he was mor
tally afraid of a snake. ‘Self-preserva
tion’ was the first ‘passage’ that flashed
upon his mind, and ‘ legs take care of
the body’ was the next. Dropping his
schythe and spinning round like a top.
he was ready to strike a 2:40 gait, when
at that moment the snake was near
enough to hook his crooked teeth into
John’s shirt, just above the hem.—
With a tremendous spring, he started
off with the speed of a locomotive. —
His first jump took the snake clear off
the ground, and as he stole a hasty
glance over his shoulders, he was horri
fied to find the reptile securely fastened
to the hem of his garment; while the.
speed with which he rushed forward
kept the serpent at an angle < f ninety
with his body.
Here was a quandary. If he stopped,
the snake would coil about his body and
squeeze him to death; if he continued
the race, he’d soon fall from sheer ex
haustion. On he flew, scarce daring to
think how his dreadful race would end.
Instinctively lie had taken the direction
of home, when a feeling of security
came over him. Suddenly flashed across
his mind the true state of affairs—his
father gone —the quilting—and worst of
all, the girls ! This new horror sent t! e
blood curdling about his neck, and he
came to a dead halt. The next moment
he felt the body of the cold, clammy
monster in contact with his bare legs,
bis tail creeping around them in a sort
of an oozing way, as though his snake-
Number 23.
ship only meditated a little fun, by way
I of tickling him upon the knees,
j This was too much for human endtfr
! ance. With a yell, such as man never
• utters save when in mortal terror, poor
; John again set forth at a brake-neck
| pace, and once more had the pleasure of
seeing the snake resume his horizontal
' position, somewhat after the fashion of
| a comet.
On he flew ! lie forgot the quilting,
I forgot the girls, forgot everything but
I the snake.
His active exercise, (he paid particu
j lar attention to his running) together
with the excessive heat, had brought on
the nose-bleed, and as he ran, ears erect
head throwu back, his chin, throat and
shirt-bosom were stained with tho flow
ing stream.
His first wild shriek had startled the
quiltere, and forth they rushed, wonder
ino, if some mad Ind an was not prowl-
By the time John waa with
in a tew rftds of the barn, still running
at the top of his speed, hia head turned
so that he could keep one eye on the
snake, and with the other observe what
course he must take. The friendly barn
concealed him from the sight of tho
girls. He knew they were in the yard,
having eought a glimpse of them as
thoy rushed from the house. A few
more bounds and he would be in their
midst. For a moment modesty over
came fear, and he once more halted.—
The snake, evidently pleased with hi#
rapid transformation, manifested his
gratitude by attempting to enfold the
legs of our hero within his embrace.
\\ ith an explosive ‘ ouch /’ and urged
forward by ‘circumstances over which
he had no control,’ poor John bounded
on. The next moment he waa in full
view of the girls, and as he turned the
corner of the barn, the snake camo
round with a whiz something after the
fashion of a coach whip.
Having reached the barn-yard, to his
dismay he found tho bars up; but time
was too precious to be wasted in letting
down bars. Gathering all his strength,
he bounded into the air—snake ditto—
and as he alighted on the other side, his
snakeship’s tail cracked across the upper
bar. snapping like and India-cracker.
Again he set forward, now utterly re
gardless of the presence of the girls, for
the extra tic of the snake’s tail as he
leaped the bars, banished all the bash
fulness and modesty, and again he had
the pleasure of finding the snake in a
straight line, drawing steadily at the
heel of his solitary garment.
The house now became the centre of
attraction, and around it he revolved
with the speed of thought. Four times
in each revolution, as he turned the
corner, his snakeship came round with
a whiz which was quite refreshing.
While describing the third circle, as
he came near the group of wonder-st ruck
girls, without removing his gaze from
the snake, he managed to cry out:
‘call a man !’
The next moment he whisked out of
sight, and, as quick as thought, re-ap
peared on the other side of the house—
‘CALL A MAN !’
And away he whirled again, turning
the corner so rapidly that the whiz of
the snake sounded half-way between a
whistle and the repeated pronunciation
of a doublc-e.
Before either of the girls had stirred
from their tracks, he had performed an
other revolution—
‘CALL A MAN !’
Away he flew, but his strength was
rapidly failing. Nancy Clark waa the
first to recover her presence of mind,
and seizing a hoop-pole she took her sta
tion near the corner of the house, and
as John re-appeared, she brought it
down upon the snake with such a force
that it broke his back and his hold upon
John's nether garment at the same time.
John rushed into the house and to his
room, and at tea-time appeared in his
best Sunday suit, but little the worse for
the race, and to all appearance cured of
bashfulness. That night he walked home
with Nancy Clark. The New Year they
were married, and now. when John feels
inclined to laugh at his wife’s hoofs or
any other peculiarity, she has only to
say, ‘Call a man,’ and he instantly sobers
down.
tSF* An exchange tells the following
pretty story : “Chippewa Falls, Wiscon
sin, has a young lawyer who follows the
formal phraseology of legal documents
to—well, to a considerable distance.—
Drawing up a complaint for assault and
battery, recently, he made the following
representation of facts: ‘And plaintiff
further alleges that, at the same time and
place, the said A. B. said to complain
ant, ‘lf you come another step nearer
I’ll kick you to h—ll/ which complain
ant verily believes he would have done.’ ”
Sk&T Bismarck lately received a letter
marked ‘private.’ It was opened by his
confidential clerk, who had read only a
few lines when he was seized with vio
lent pains in the head, and fell back in
a swoon. Another clerk picked it up
felt the same symptom*. After a little
while they recovered, and carried the
document to a chemist, who soon ascer
tained that the letter had been poisoned
with veratine, a subtle and dangerous
substance, the odor of which mounts in
to the brain, and is very liable to pro
duce death or insanity.
-a ♦»
“Are you fond of tongm, sir?” “I
was always fond oft« ngne, madam, and
I like it still."
It turns out that the woman who baa
not spoken to her husband for twenty
years never had a husband to speak to.
“How is that for high!” ballooning
out of Paris.