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r ^ O "U" ^ ^ 4 7^ | 1 ^ VOL. 2. NO. 8.] BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1871, _ : 7 " j ? 7.7 71 7 I j ' ' * ' Beaufort County Republican THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1871. POETRY. (JERRY'S BOOTS* < BY FREDERICK LotKgR. Xhey nearly strike me dumb, And I tremble when they come ' Pit-a-pat: This palpitation menus That these boots are UernldineV? Think of that! O where did hunter win 80 delectable a skin For her feet? You lucky little kid. Ton pcrish'd, so you did, For inv sweet! The fairy stitching gleams On the sides and in the seams, And it shows That the Pixies were the wags Who tipt thes** funny tags, And these toes. The simpletons whd sqneeso Their extremities to please Mandarins, Would positively flinch i ruui venturing to pinch GeraMiueV What soles to charm an clfl llad Crusoe, sick of self, Chanced to view One printed near the tide, O how hard he would have tried l'or the two! For Gerry 's di^onair, And innocent and fair Asa rose: She's an angel in a froek, With a facinatiiig cock To her nose. Cinderella's /'/?* and rujhl* To Gcraldiue's were frights: And I troW, The damsel, deftly shod, lias beautiful trod Until now. The Phantom Hound. Some years ago, during a temporary residence in St. Petersburgh, I became acquainted with a little man who rejoiced - in the big name of Porfirii KHpitonovitch. He had served, for a short time, in a Russian hussar regiment, and was now au WM *'1 Will leil you," saiu tic, auu iwivu^ with commenced the following little history : I own, as yon probably know, or, rather, as you probably don't know, a small property in the district of Kozelsk. At first, I made a little out of of it, but latterly it has brought me nothing but quarrels and lawsuits. However, we don't talk politics. One night, about eight years ago, I had been spending the evening with a neighbor, and returned to my bachelor homequite sober, understand?about eleven o'clock. I undress; I get into bed; I blow out my light, and in ten minutes after, something begin to move, under the bed. "What's that?" said I to myself. "A mouse?" No! No mouse could make that noise. Well, it scratched, and moved about, and scraped the tloor with its hind legs, and shook its ears; and in short, and fact, it | was a dog! There was no doubt about that. But where did it come from? I had no dog. I called my servant. "Filka! Filka!" In came Filka, with a light. "There's a dog under the bed, Filka," said I. "Turn him out!" Filka, with the candle, fell on his hands and knees, and explored the dark depths under the bed. "Well!" said I to Filka. Well!" said he, "there's nothing there. 3k)t the shadow of a dog. "Then he must have run out when you opened the door." And for that night the affair was over. But the next, just imagine, hardly had I blow out the candle, when flap went the villain's ears! "Filka!" I roared. In he runs, down he goes, and finds nothing again. I go to bed once more, blow out the candle, and in an instant I hear him breathing, scraping, snapping and biting at himself for phantom fleas, just as if he were a real canine. "Filka!" I cried, "come again, but don't bring a light." He comes! "Well!" I said, "do you hear?" "I do!" said he; and I could tell by his voice that he was afraid. " 'Tis a piece of sorcery!" he went on?"a deviltry!" inspector of certain Government stores or werehousis; which position, howevei, did not exact any transcendent abilities, inasmuch as the warehouses aforesaid on ly existed on paper-an admirable s\s tern of administrative economy, as at least, the expense of building the warehouses was spared; and the little man with the big name took his ease with the traditional dignity. * We were taiKiug, uu? evening at we ca/e, on ghosts, spirits and kindred subjects, and I plaiuly expressed my unbelief in such matters. "Something once happened to me," said Porfirii Kapitonovitch, "In complete disaccord with the lawsof nature! In complete disaccord with the laws of nature!" he repeated, smacking his lips, as if he relished the phrase. "Indeed!" I cried. "What was this |?fl}bnderful affair?" - - ?? ' ? ?, ?v_. "(Jo to the deucei77 said i, stouuy; out I remarked that my voice was as wispery as his. I light my candle. No more dog! No more row! No more anything! but Filka and myself, as white as the sheets, A happy thought struck me. Au inspiration of common sense! I left my candle burning, and for the rest of the night all was peace. Well, my friend(continued PorfiriiKapitonovitch), this little diversion lasted for six weeks! and at lat 11 became so accumstomed to it, that I blew out my candle notwithstanding?for I cannot sleep if there is a light in my bedroom. One evening, a friend of mine, Vassili Yassivitch paid me a visit, and I invited him to stay all night, for I wished to if a stranger could break the spell. A bed was prepared for him in my room, and the momeut the light was out, the farce commenced. Scrape, scrape, scrape! and scratch, scratch, scratch! and better still, my phantom hound marches up and down the room, tearing at the (ioor with his claws, the while; and finally overturns a chair close to th(f bedside of ray friend. "All!" said he?and, take notice, in his ordinary voice, quite naturally?"ah!you have a dog there! What brtcd is he?" "Breed!" I muttered to mys-lf. And then 1 lit my candle, aud to'd him the whole story ; and said I, "I believe don't either Socrates or Freerick the Great himself could clear it up!" I never saw a m in in such a hurry in my lifeas was Y.is>iii Vassilivitch, when I explained matters He sprang from the bed like a scalded cat! "Porlirii Kapitouovitch!" he cried, "I do not wait here another minute! Thou art a man accused! My horses! My horses!" And without waiting to get iato his boots, he fled from the room! lie came to see me the next day, and counseled me to leave the place for a time, to try if that would destroy the charm. Very sensible advice, you would say, but then my neighbor Vassili was a very remarkable man?a man of an altogether superior mind. Ilis own mother-in-law, among others, he perplexed and overcame in a most triumphant manner; and she became like a sheep in his hands! Imagine what a man he must have been, thus to subdue and circumvent a motherin-law! Brief, I went to the city, and took up my lodgings with an old inn-keeper I knew, mimed lloskolnik?a little grumbling old man, who held tobacco and dogs in horror, and I believe would not on any consideration have allowed one of the latter in the house. "It is likely?" he would say. 'Here is the good Virgin who honors me by hanging in my apartment, and shall an impious dog dare to intrude his unholy muzzle therein?" As a favor, the old man allowed me to share his room, having another bed placed there purposely for me. This arrangement suited me very well, as it provided me with a reliable witness for my canine encounter. At bedtime, my ancient mumbled his prayers before the aforesaid picture of the Virgin; then tumbled into bed, where he soon initiated an iutastically graduated nose solo, beginning with a plaintive nasal wailing, and finally merging into a regular rolling tire of full-bodied snores. Sleep through that, eh? And then the lamp burning before the pictures disturbed me. This latter difficulty I disposed of at one breath, and crept quietly back to bed. Would you believe it? I had hardly prone again, before the infernal scratch, ings recommenced?the ear flappings, the ' rustlings and writhings and all, just as c , usual, to such an extent that the old man s woke up, and sprang from his bed, crying: "A dog! a dog!?an accursed dog!" and ^ rushing to the picture of the Virgin, he n relit the lamp, made the sign of the cross h three times. And then I told him the * meaning of it all. 8: "Well, Fedoul Iyanovitch, what do you ^ think of it?" u " 'Tis a temptation of the devill!'' he & cried. "To-morrow I'll give you a letter ^ to a sainted man at Belev. Now I must ^ burn incense;" and this he did to a suffo- 81 eating degree. 1 'Now try and sleep," said he, "and in the morning we will take a counsel together. To-morrow is wiser than to-day." a And with that we went to sleep?un dogged sleep. In the morning he wrote me a letter, in these words: "In the name of the Father, and of the * Son, and of the Iloly Ghost, Amen! To 81 Serge Prokhorytch Pervouchine. Believe | and help the bearer. Send me more cabbages, and praised be the name of the Lord! "Fedoul Ivanovitch." c I went to Belev, and fonnd the holy ^ Serge digging cabbage in a small field, in the midst of which stood a rude hut. lie was an old, old man, poorly dressed, with a beard like a goat's, no teeth, and the most piercing eyes I have ever seen. I told him my difficulty, and for some ^ time he appeared to be communing with invisible spirits ; and his visage and demeanor changed to such an extent, that he ap- s< peared like one possessed. ^ I must confess that it produced in me a feeling very much akin to fear. At last, a returning to himself, he said, transfixing me with his keen and penetrating gaze: "You can be assisted. This visitation y is not intended as a punishment, but as a warning. There is quietude in the spirit- ^ world on your accouut, and there are those who pray anxiously for you. Go to the church, prostrate yourself before the ~ iuiagt s of the pure and helpful bishops, ^ Saiut Zczirae, and Saint Savvat of Solo- ^ vetz! Pray to them; then go to the mar- ^ et ami buy you a young dog ; keep it with u ; you night and day ! Your visitations will ! cei.?o, and, in addition, the dog will be h useful to }ou!" I thauked the old man profoundly, and ^ ollered hiui three roubles. r< "Give them to the Church or to the ^ poor, Such services aa mine cannot be njid t? hn sairl nniptlv t"*'"' ? "**?> '1 J * u 1 followed his device, called my dog j "Treasure," and the next night slept at home again, with my four-footed compan1 ion established by my bedside. I boldly blew out my light and listened. 0] Not a sound. "Come on, friend Phantom," "I exclaim?come on!" ^ Not a scratch, a scrape, or a flap,. "Filka!" I cry. In he comes. "Filka, ^ do you hear him?" ^ "No, master," said he, "I hear nothing!" f "Good!" said I. "There's half a rou- ?? ble for you." "Permit me to kiss your hand," says a, he, and he was as well pleased as I was myself. g( And I never heard the phantom hound tl again (cried Porfirii) not that the story's finished?the end is yet to come. Treasure grew and grew, and became a u large and very powerful dog. lie was much attached to me and never left my tl side. h One very hot summer's day I went to visit a fair neighbor who lived about a a verst from my house, and my Treasure, tc of course, went with me. Ninfodora Semenovna was a young and g< fresh widow, with whom my bachelorhood had a very narrow escape! (and here c] Porfirii Kapitonovitch heaved a deep sigh, h whether of satisfaction or regret I could not at the moment discover.) Just as 1 ci reached the door, (he resumed,) I heard shouts and cried so alarming, that I turn- a ed hastily around, and found myself face w j to face with an enomous red-colored brute ft I thought at first was a wolf, but I soon C discovered, to my horror, was a mad dog! | His jaws were open, his eyes bloodshot, nis wmte, glistening iusks, anu reu tongue i half-covered with foam!?never was I ! tried with such a fearful vis-a-vis in my ir life! le I had scarcely time to utter one excla- si mation of horror, when the monster was h : close upon me, and I thought my end was p come. Crack, hashed! and Treasure flew h at his throat like a streak of lightning, tl and clung to it like a leech, while I opened e: | the door, rushed through, and rapidly ti losed it again, planting against it the trongestback I could assume. The battle raged. I called, "HelpI lad dogl Help!" Ninfodora Semenova and all her household, with its back iair down, ran hither and thither in the rildest confusion ; but in few moments I aw, through the keyhole, the mad dog art off through the village, and Treasre after him. I looked in the mirror and aw that I was green as grass with the right; while Ninfodora, also with the right, was sobbing and clucking on the ofa like a distressed hen. "Are you alive?" at last she faintly sked. "Yes, thanks to my dog." "Ah, what a noble dog!" she cries Has the mad brute killed him?" "No" said I, just catching a glance of Measure throgh the window, returning to he house,'limping and bleeding ;"but I ?e he is badly wounded." "Wounded!" she shrieked ; "bitten by tie mad dog! Then he must be shot!" "Not at all," I said ; "I shall try and ure him." Just then poor Treasure scratched at he door for admission, and I immediately 'ent to open it. "Ah, ah! what would you do?" shrieked Tinfodora. "Let him in." "Never never! he would bite us, and we hould all go mad, mad, mad!" "Nonsense, Ninfodora," I urged; "noninse. I am surprised at you. Calm ourself." "Begone! go I leave my house! you and our infamous dog, too 1 You are mad b he is. Go, both of you, and never look le in the face again !" "I'm going," I said, nettled enough, as ou may imagine. "Don't lose any time, then,for I'm all 1 a tremor till you arc both gone !" You may suppose that from that day >rth all intimacy was at an end between Tinfodora Semenovna and Porfirii Kapi. >novitch ; and after mature reflection, I ave come to the conclusion that I ought ) be gratful to my attached friend, Treasre, till the day of my death. I have not much to add. Treasure appily recovered from his wounds, and id not go mad; and the phantom houud echased away from under my bed never iturued to plaguj me. So now, Mr. Diseliever in ghosts, explain that if you can, included Porfirii Kapitonovitch, trimphantly. I could not dear reader! Can you? (jiiiililies of a Good Collector, Is on time to a minute when the debtr sa)S "come to morrow at 9 o'clock. Sits on the steps and wai s for his relrn when he sajs "I am just going to inner." Insists on stepping out to make change hen the man "has nothing lees than a venty." Will go to an "old stager" every day >r a month with a cheerful countenance about that little account." Doesn't mind edging into a crowd to sk a fellow. Will take a dollar in part if he can't et ten in whole, and "credit it" with lankful alacrity. Alwsys suggests a check when the mony is not in hand, as he can get it cashed" to-morrow. Always has the account "on top" so le man can make no excuse for putting im off. Don't mind asking for it immediately fter being "treated"?or pleasantly enTtained. 1 Is never in a hurry, "can wait till you et through." Cuts off the retreat of the dodger by rossing over to meet him, or follows him lto a store where he goes to hide. Can cough or salute when the "hard ise" wants to pass without seeing him. In fine?is patient as a post, cheerful as duck, sociable as a Ilea, bold as a lion, reather-proof as a rubber, cunning as a >x, and watchful as a sparrow-hawk:? 'olumbus Index. Bound to do a full Day's Work. Mr. M., of Oxford, don't object to havlg a hired man do a full day's work?at :ast, so we judge from the following :ory: A short time ago a man went to is place for work. Mr. M. set him loughing round a forty-acre Held. After e had ploughed faithfully all day until re sun was about half an hour high, he spresseu m.s opimuu mat it was aoout rnu to quit. "Oh, nol" replied Mr. M., "you car plough eight times more just as well m not." So the hired man ploughed around six oi eight times, then went to the house, toot care of his team, milked nine cows, ate his supper, ahd found ten o'clock Staring him in the face from the timepiece. Said the hired man to Mrs. M., "Where is Mr. M.?" The good woman answered, "lie haa retired; do you wish to see him?" He replied that he did. After being conducted to the bedroom, he said. "Mr. M., "where is your axe?" "Why," said Mr. M., "what do yoi want to do with the axe?" "Well," said the hired man, "Ithoughl you might want me to split wood til: breakfast is ready." Rent Story. Once in the Latin quarter of Paris, nno moi7 lpam iispfiil facts. Amons? oth ers, an ingenious method for avoiding the payment of rent, that would do an honoi to Dick Swiveller. The explanation ol the method is inseparable from its illustration: The landlady of a certain medical student who effectually dunned her delinquent tenant for some time, resolved at last upon reporting to extreme measures. She entered the student's room one morning, and said in a decided tone. "You must either pay me my rent 01 be off this very day." "I prefer to be off," said the student, who, on his side, was prepared for the encounter. ""iVell, then, sir, phck up directly." "I assure you, madam, I will go witb the utmost expedition, if you will assist me a little." "With the greatest of pleasure." The student thereupon went to a wardrobe, and took out a skeleton, which/ he handed to the dame. "Will you have the kindness to place i! in the bottom of my trunk ?" said h< folding it up. "What is it ?" said the landlady recoil ing a little. UTUntD PnnK ! ffiof Oh if'a t>ia otralo JL liat l JL V/VU * vut?v vyu^ " v u vuv UUVIV ton of my first landlord, who was inconsiderate enough to claim the rent of three terms that I owed him, and then I?be careful that you do not'break it?It's num ber one of my collection." "Monsieur!" exclaimed the dame growing visibly paler. The student, without replying, opened a second drawer, and took out anothei skeleton. "This is my landlady in the Rue I Ecole de Medicine. A very worthy lady, but who also demanded the rent of two terms. Will you also place it on the other ? It is number two." The landlady opened her eyes as large as portecochers. "This," continued the student, "this is number three. They are all here! A very honest man, and whom I did not pay either. L^t us pa*8 on to number four." But the landlady was no longer there. She had fled, almost frightened to death. From that day no more was said about the rent. Went for ttiiu. A rougn looKing specimen 01 numanny was recently promenading up Chatham street, New York, when he came plumply upon a Jew. Without word of warning the rough knocked him sprawling into the gutter*. Picking himself up, and taking his bleeding nose between his finger and thumb, he demanded an explanation. "Shut up. I'll bust you again!" said the aggressor, approaching him again. "I have never done nothing mit you so, wlrat for you smash me m de ncfce?,: demanded Abraham. "Yes yer hev; yer Jews crucified Jesus Christ, and I have a mind to go for you again." ' 'But, mine Cot, dat vash eighteen hundred years ago," said the Jew. t t m-w-r 11 T 1 !_ .'i. T 1 _ wen, i aont care 11 n wim, j. uury heard of it last night!" replied the unwashed, and he went for hioi again. Emerson, in his essay on 'Heroism' ha? those golden words: "The unremitting retention of simple and high sentiments in obscure duties will mould the character or that temper which Will work with honor if need be, in the tumult or on the scaffold." i The Wages of Koyalty. * Royalty is, perhaps, the best business going, regarded from a pecuniary standr point. The salaries of Emperors and ' Kings are for the most part liberal, and ' no deduction is made on account of ab>% sence from dh(#. The Czar of Russia has the most profit5 able birth, his wages averaging ?25,000' per day, or 365 times as much as Presf1 dent Grant receives. The Sultan of Turkey struggles along on ?18,000 per day." How he can do it, with hfj Wrge family, and the inevitable enormous dry goods' bills?is not easy to understand. Louis Napoleon, last September, lost d place _ that paid him S 14,000 per day; but he has' v J - J J Lrtr, onmo. I D6GD pruuuill/, auu iiao ca*cu up ovuw thing haodsome, which will keep Mjorf comfortable ia his old age. What the pay of emperor William, of Germany may be, we don't know, but as King of Pros-' sia, he was paid only ?8,270 per day, or 1 83,000,000 per year. Victor Emanuel, of Italy, enjoys an income of about 83,| 000,000. Queen Victoria is a good mana, ger, and keeps the pot a-bilin on about, 82,000,000 per year. The Prince of Wales finds 8025,000 unequal to hia expenses. Some time ago, a man Darned Neeldy left Queen Victoria 81,750,000, and Prince Albert left her ?5,000,000. It ' is believed that she will "cut tfp'J, it ore richly than any other sovereign of Europe. In contrast to these magnificent figures it may be interesting to' kftow that th'e average income of nine millions of people in England and Wales is less than two' 1 shillings per day. Men's Rights. Burleigh tells this story in the Boston/ Journal: Coming up in the cars quite an a'feusing incident occurred. The palace caref need custom. The common cars are few and crowded, and those who would be * comfortable are compelled to pay extni' and have a seat fn the ?aliac6 saloon. Sev: eral gentlemen stood. A lady took a 3 whole seat to herself, and piled up her i baggage on th6 spot where weary gentle"' men would be glad to repose. The lady left her seat for a moment and went to' the rear. A gentleman at once went for " it?piled the bags on the seat the lady oc' cupied and sat down. All watched the* 1 operation. Soon the lady came on with a* " quick step. She came to a halt and said, "Sir, you have my seat." "I think dot ? > your luggage is on your seat." "I have had the seat all the way from Albany." 1 Yes ma'am, and I have stood all the way from Albany, and intend to ride the rejft of the way to Rutland." Not an inchr ' did the woman budge; she held her ground full ten minutes. The intruder ' was quietly reading?the only one in the " car that was not absorbed in the affair. The silence was painful. At last the wo1 man gave way. In a huff she seized he/ bundles, made for the palace car, and 1 paid for all the room she occupied. Her exit was attended with a short, sharp cheer, and the audience recovered. l!c:nnants By Josh Billing*. Customs are like grease?they maie ei?? nything slip easy. Thare iz sam things that kint be coifa*" erlitted?a blush iz one ot them. Goodness iz jist az mutch ov a ituddj^ as mathumatiiks is. ? - t. 1 _ x f 1 . it a man expecKis- tew De very yiric 1 wous be musn't mix too mutch with the world nor too mutch with himself nei, ther. The people who acktually deserve teif . ^ live their lives over agin are the Very 1 ones who don't want to do it. The richest man ov all iz be who- ha* 1 got but little, but hazgot all he wants, Natur makes all the noblemen?wealth, dukashun, nor pedigree never made ontf ' yet. s When a man duz me a favour I *lwm i try tew remember it, and when he dux me i an injury I alwus try tew forg^C iff?it f don't, I ought to. If a man iz honest he rrr'ay liotaJwoabo in the right, b3t he kau never bet ia r wrong. Grate talkers arc generally grata Bar?r for them who talk so mutch mast aootr or later run out ov the truth; and toft wafc th2y don't kno. . ' 1 don't bet thare izenny rich thracr aaa. perfcktly good mail, or a perfciUy bad : Man. i I kno-ov enny quantity ov people wbnte . virfcews are at the mercy ov otter firfks, who are good simply for the ?pntihtn ov it, who hav'nt got enny mo*e snl appetite tew their conscience. than s kw ha 2.