Beaufort Republican. [volume] (Beaufort, S.C.) 1871-1873, November 16, 1871, Image 1
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VOL. 2. NO. 8.] BEAUFORT, S. C., THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1871,
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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.