The Orangeburg news. (Orangeburg, S.C.) 1867-1875, September 23, 1871, Image 1
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SATUEDAY MORNING, SEPTEMBER 23, 1871.
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NUMBEft 32
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THE TOLLING KELL.
A SAB HAT II MORNING TALE.
HY AZA Ki.KLUS.
m
*Qr?N?d inniiy yuirs npn, in one rd* my
? *Summer ran.blcs. I found my??el ono
beautiful Sabbath morning the guest of
;i worth.*." und intelligent family, in n
t|ui?>t c<iiintty village.
The curly breakfast was over; parents
^ tdtaptor in the7' bible ; Mr. Shelton. tin
head tif* tin; family, had then offered up
? (brVcut prayer, tit t' e conclusion of
which we all arose from our knees, when
our Cars were greeted by the clear, deep
prills riff the ringing church bells.
?Can it bo so late?' exclaimed Mrs.
1 Sbelton. looking at the cluck. 'Our
tiine-piece must ba slow.'
?That's tint the Gist hull fi*T church.'
answered her husband solemnly. -There
has been u death in the villa-..?. The
bell Ugnitig to toll fur Martin Lord.'
'Such, then, is his happy end," mnsed
his wife. 'Well, it would ho wrong to
mourn his death, fur I believe him vas
ly butter, offj he" derived no comfort from
earth. If death was ever a merciful
providence, it is so in his case.'
'Is it a person who has been lung
sick ?' TuskeU.
Ins' ' of answering my ou'Stion di
rectly, Mrs. Shelton, said : 'There is a
very Hiclunchuly history connected with
that young mau. It is quite sometime
since the excitement occasioned by this
strange tragedy died away; but the
,0j|l't"'?? of that bell this morning must
hting it ^ack forcibly to every heart.
Perhaps you /??y find lhe 8t0I7 w,,ich
bring? about this tol,inS. interesting.'
I expressed my dt*.1? tu li8ten lo ,,,e
narration, upon which she ?"ve t,lc
following dctuils of tho story, which I
givo you with only a slight deviu-V00
Iroru the original:
?Maitin Load was once the flower nnd
*? .? -. _. _ j ?*.....:
*i*:pe v.* i..- - - t
lies iu the village. His amiubld dispo
sition and superior intellect procured
for him universal lovo and esteem. Al
though ol a slight figure, und pale fca
ffirpf, wUiah iodiaatod a constitution by
po means robust,Martin was remarked
for his uncommon beauty aud indued,
his fine, noble forehead, ?ba led by lock's
of soft, brown hair, his larg?, expressive
blue cycf, straight nose, thin Grecian
nostrils, and rather voluptuous month,
entitled him in some measure to that
consideration. lie vm- a great favorite
among the Ln)i*?.s, both old mid young;
hut he never showed any marked pur.
fiality to any one until he bcoamo ac
quainted with Isabella Asbtoi), the
daughter of our lato olorgyman, who
died ot griof about u year ago.
No two being* oould be moro diffcr
pnt. Isabella was the youngest aud
post thoughtless girl iu our village,
?he could littvc little sympathy with a
parson of such deep feeling* and eleva
ted intellect ns Martin ; nnd beoutif'ul
as she was, it seemed strange that ho
should have given his loviyto her. There
is uu doubt but she was attached to
him; perhaps she loved him as well us
sho was capab'o of loVingf any one; but
iu this instance, as in all others, her
nficctions were secondary to her iovo of
sarcasm and mischief. Marlin and Isa
bella had been pointed out as lovers,
by village gossips, for several months,?
he was now nineteen, aud she was the
same age?when the tragedy occurred,
which the tolling of tho bell has recalled
to my mind.
It was on uu Autumn evening, uearly
five, years since, that Isabella took ad
vantage ot her father's absence, and hud
a social gathering of young people at
their house. Martin of course irus ono
of the party of fuir youths aud maidens,
who, being under no restraint from tho
gravity of tho clergyman, who was not
looked for homo until lute, the ouipany
eujoyed themselves freoly wiih jests,
songs, nod social games. The hour at
which such parties usually broku up had
already passed, and yot there aocinod to
be lio relaxation iu the gnjety of the
young people. During the fun now
biuding them, some otic innocently intro
duced the subject of ghosts, saying rc
port had it that one had lately been seen
taking ndvauthge of the solemnity ol
midnight and tho stillness thereof, in
the vicinity of tho church-yard, patroll
ing nnd keeping guard over hid sleeping
comrades.
'Nonsense, it is a silly report,' inter
rupted Martin. 'Nobody believes that
one has been scon there, and I doubt if
there is h perron in this room who be
lieves in the existence of such thing--.'
'Hush Martin, you do, yourself; you
know you do ; n't he Ugh you arc ashamed
to own it,' cried Isabella ; hut Martin
only laughed. 'Come, now,' continued
tho thoughtless girl, -I can very soon
prove to i he company and to yoursel*',
the fact th t you have some i 'ea of their
existence. (in to the ehurch yard alone
in the dark, and rh-.'u declare, if you
can, you had no dr^ad, felt no lc.?r.'
?And a hat will that j.f .Ve V
?Why you will be frightened though
you should seu nothing. Your fears
would put your belief to the test. I low
Could you be afraid it you did not I .-el
there was something to be afraid of V
'1 do ii t think your logic the best iu
the world.' sail Martin laughingly.
I
'Men are often troubled with fear when
their reason telU them ihero is no cause
lo fear. Hut I mil forced to deny your
assertion that a journey to the church
yard even at midnight would frighten
mo?no, not in thu least.'
'llow very brave your language,' ex
claimed Isabella, indulging iu her cus
tomary mode of sarcasm. "Yes, indeed,
you are tremendously brave now, and
yet no longer than yesterday, your moth
er told you Would not help kill a rab
bit.'
'I never like to cause or witness pain,'
replied Martin, much hurt by Isabella
classifying bravery and tender feeling
together.
'IIa I ha ! ha ! u nice way to get out
of it, an excellent excuse, yet it can't s.Vc
you, fof I urn resolved to put your brave
ry to the test. You arc brave enough,
to be sure, but tender hearted ; so thcti
come, now win your laurels, you dare
not go to thu churchyard this night
alone. You are not hall* so courageous
as you would have us believe. Wheth
er you think there arc ghosts or not, you
arc afraid of them.'
Martiu was extremely sensitive; out
t\\\, taccusm of nobody except Isbclla
..?,,1.1 h vc stuntr '?im ?.?-? t.? ?'??
Scoruing the ?:,oputatiou of cowardice he
was ready aud Wli.Vog tlJ do any despe
rate thing through tho iustruincntality
of which he might pro?c ins courage.
?Hut,' said he, 'although I have no more
four of churchyards and ghosts than 1
entertain of orchards and apple trees, i
am nothing to walk half u mile merely
to be lauglmd at/
'Ilul lull a not lue pies; but you
shall not escape,' laughed Isabella.
?Here, before these our friends, I prom
ise that this ring shal1 bo yours,' sho
continued, displaying ouo given her by
her old lover, which Martin had to part
with, 'provided you go to the churchyard
alone, in the dark, and declare, on your
honor, when you return, that you were
not thu least afraid.'
'Agreed,' said Martin, buttoning his
coat, for the night wan chill.
'And an au ovidence that you go the
ontire distance, you can bring buck with
you the iron pin which you wdl Gnd ut
the OQtranoe mi the gate,' said Isabella.
Thus driven by taunts to a commis
sion of fully, Mania took leave of the
company, full of courage and spirit, and
set Out ou his eirund, i
It was near a i-uaiter of a milo to the
- -? i
churchyard, which was uppronchcd by a
lonely, dronry path, seldom traveled ex
cept by mourners. It would bo impos
sible to state precisely what happened to
Martin ou that gloomy road. I judge
from the circumstances which afterwards
came to light, and conjecture, his adven
tures must have beau as I am about to
relate, f
Slight ns he was in frame, nod tender
in feeling, he wns not destitute of cour
ago. I dare not think ho wuh frighten
ed by the sighing of the wiud. or the
rustling of dry ant um leaves as he trod
along the avenue pointing to the 'city
of the dead.' Ho marched firady to it,
stopped a tuomcut, I have no doubt, to
gase sadly but not feuringly. upon the
white tombstones gleaming' faintly in
the dark and dessolate ground, fur the
stars shone brilliantly in tho clcur, cold
sky above. All this must have drawn
in his mind tho sweetest of solemnity.
He f und the pin, und started back, but
hud proceeded but n short distance,
when, in the gloomiest part of tho road,
he noticed a white Ggurc emerge from n
clump of willows and making its steps
towards him. It looked liken walking
corpse in a winding sheet which which
trailed upon the. ground. AH Martin's
strength of nerve was gone in an instant.
Courage gave way to desperation, his
hair stood erect, and his blood run chill,
yet he stood his ground. The spectre
drew nearer, seaming to grow whiter
and birder as it approached nearer, seem
ing to grow whiter and larger as it up
pro ehed. We cannot tell what phren
zy seised upon the brain of the unhappy
youth at that moment.
The guests tit the clergyman's house
heard terrific screams. Dreading some
tragic termination to the fane, llioy
rushed to the spot, one of the number
carrying a lantern. They found Martin
leaning ou a pn strate form clutching
convulsive!v its threat, while lib still
uttered frantic shrieks for help. His
wild features exhibited the very extrem
ity id'terror. Only two of the must
courageous young men dared approach
him. Otic of them forced Martin
relax his h dd on the throat ol the fig
ure, whilst tho other tore away the folds
of the sheet. At thit moment the hear
er of the laut rti came up. Its light
fell on the blood-stained, distorted fea
tures of Isabella. Martin uttered one I
more unearthly shriek, and Ml lifeless'!
up-ni the corpse. He never spake again,
but lived?an idiot.
A frightful contusion on Isabella's
temple bore evidence tlat in his phren
7.y he had struck the supposed specire
with the iron pin. The blow was prob
ably the cause of her death, although
such a rrnsp as his hands must have
given her thro it, might alone have de
prived her of breath. He never kt.cw
afterwards what he had done, for never
again did one gleam of reason illumine
the darkness of bin soul ; mid yesterday
morn bis spirit was filially freed from
its shackles of clay, and given life and
light in a better world, which the toll
ing ofthat bell declares 11. ist BojeUiuly.
*******
That wns indeed n sad, sad tale, and
to this day I remember with what feel
ing it was told to me. I remained with*
that family two days, and when 1 occa
siouully muse over the wanderings of
my early youth, it claims no small part
in my reflections, for I remember 'twas
.!,-.?. I '? -_e.su mo melancholy stoiy of
Martin Lord and Isabella Asllion.
[Sunilcr Aetr*.]
How Parson Blake Subtltied Iiis
Horse.
{Well,' *aid llcubon, the story-toller,
'father OlWys wanted U horse, because
the folks in Greene livo scattered, and
ho has so far to goto attend funerals and
wedding*, and visit schools von know ;
but he never felt a* if ho could afford to
buy one. Hut one day he wjs coining
afoot from Hildreth und a stranger asked
him to rido. Father said :'
?That's a handsome horse you are
driving. I should like to own ?ut h a
horse myself,'
'What'will you give me for him?'
'J)o you want to .sell V says father.
'Yes, I ilo, und I'll sell cheap too,'
says ho.
'Oh, woll,' says father, 'it's no uuo
talkin?, for I hureu't tho money to buy
with.'
'Make mo au offer,' Buys he.
'Well, just to put nn end to the talk,'
sajB father,'I Will give you seventy-five
dollars 'for the horse.!
J it it's i .?. .i; h.i .
'You may have Into,'says tho man,
ns quiek, as a flas!:, 'but you'll repent of
your bargain in a week;.'
?Why, what ails thc&orso ?' says fath
er.
'Ails him ? lie's got old Nick in
him, that's what uils^im,' says he, 'If
he has a will to go, he'll go; but if he
takes a notion to :-t<u>, all orcatiou can't
start him. I've stooiJ aud beat that
horse till the sweat rut?<off mo in streams.
I've fired a gun off o*{gac to his curs;
I've burnt shavings pundur him. I
might have beat him to death aud roust
ed him alive before hv'jjL budge an inch.'
'I'll take the horife,' says father.
'What's his name ?'
'George,' says the mau.
'I shall call him G^rge,' said fath
er.
'Well, father broughg&bim home, nnd
wo boys were mighty iteused, aud we
fixed a place for him ?h the barn, and
curried him down nnd fed him well, ami
father said ' talk to him, boys, and let
him know you feel frwudly.' So we
coaxed nnd petted him, und thu next
morning father harucsaftd hitu nod got
into the wagon to g?. Hut George
wouldn't stir a .stop. Fnjher got out aud
patted him, and we bciya brought him
apples and elovei tops^'uud once iu a
while father would Mflk'Gut up Geor
gia,' but he didn't strike a blow, 15y
and-by he says : 'This fe going to take
him. Well. Georgie, Wtfifwill see, which
has got the must pat touch, you ur I.' So
he sat iu tho wagon and took out tho
sko'etons-'
'Skeh tons V said I'cp^et, inquiringly.
'Of sermons, you ktiom Ministers al
ways carry round
\m bo ik to put
down things they thin of when they
arc walking or riding, drat her say> he's
planned out many a serittjL'U whet he was
In.eiug in t e garden.'
*I saw him \. r:ung^u%".rown si thg
un it pntatoc hill, said Leti.
'Well, don't be interimpt i ig me or I
skull never j.?t through. Father sat full '
two In tus before the horse was ready to j
stint; but when ho did. there was no I
more trouble for that d y. The next
mollliug it was the same thing over
again, only Geoigiu gnvu in a little soon :
er. All the while it boomed as if father '
couldn't u<i enough for the horso. lie
V US around the stable, feeding ami fuss
ing over him, and talking to him i i his
pleasant, gentle way (folks say lather
can quiet old e.-.izy David Downing
across the street, any time, by just
spanking to him), and the third morning
when he had fed, mid curried and har
iiossed him with his own hands, there i
was a ditftyent Jook iu the horse's eyes.
But when lather w ;s ready to go.
Georgie jiul his feet together and laid
his ours back, aud wouldn't stir. Well, I
Dove was playing about the yard, she [
brought her stool, and climb d up to the
horse's head. Dove tell I'op what'you
said to Georgia that morning.\
'1 gave him an awful talking to,' said
the little girl. *l lold him it was per
fectly 'udiculous for him to act so ; that
he'd come to a real good j lace to live,
where everybody helped everybody;
that he was a minister's horse,aud ought
to set n good example to nil other horses.
That's what I told him. Then i kissed
hitu on the nose.'
'And what di-t Georgia do?'
?Wl.y ?? '_; J.^j MUUi , gjVld, and
when 1 got through he felt su 'shamed
of himself heciiuldli't hold up his head;
so he just dropped it, till it linst touched
the ground, and he lookud as sheepish
as if he had been stealing a hundred
sheep.'
'Vcs,' said Reuben, 'aud when father
told him to go ho was olF like a shot.
Jle has uover made any trouble since,
'flint's the way fallier cured a balky
horse. And that night, when lie was
unharnessed, he rubbed his head against
father's shoulder, ami told hi ill as plain
as a horse could speak, that lie was sor
ry. He's tried to make up with father
ever siucc for the trouble he made him.
We boys have great times catching him.
when he is loose in the pasture. He's
full of his tricks. He'll OOlllC galloping
up, almost, within roach, and when we
think wc are sure ot him, he'll wheel
uud be off to (he other end of the pas
ture. He'll tool with us that way half
an hour, hut father has only to stand at
t>- 'ars ami cull his name and he walks
i< quiet as an old sheep. Why I've
seen him buck himseif between thu
shafts of (he wagou many a time, to save
father trouble. Father wuuldu't take
two hundred dollars for him to-dsy ; aud
it doesn't cost much to kcop hitu, for he
cats anything you give Hi til, Sis very
often brings out some of her dinner to
him.'
'He .likes to cat out of a plate.' said
Dove ; 'it makes him think he's folks.'
'How much Did he Lose?'
A New York gentleman at dinner on
board a Cunard steamer laid a wager
witii the Captain that he could not give
him a correct answer, within a minute,
to tho following questions: "A Yankee
rushed into a bootmaker's store, in
Broadway, "Here, look sharp!"' cried
he, "just off for Culifcrnia?ship sales
in half no hour?want a pair of boots?
look alive!" Down tumbled tho boots
off she shelves ; from which he was soon
fitted. "How much '{" "Five doHara.''
"Ciive mo change for this fifty dollar
bill?sharp?quick." Tho bootmaker,
not having change, rushed to a money
changer. "Quick, give change for this
fifty dollnp bill?passenger just off to
California!" and in a few minutes away
ran the Yankee with his boots oud his
? hange?off to Colifornia, of course. In
about an hour afterwards the money
changer enmc down to tho boot-maker.
"Hollo ! see,'" quoth he, "this is u bad
bill ; pay me down fifty' dollors at once;"
which tho poor fellow, much disgusted,
had to do. Now how much did the
bootmaker lose V
'?Come, Captain, answer, quick ?no
thinking r?bout. it. Kb. sir ? How much
did be lose ?"
?'Why, one hundred dollars- of!
course."
There wus.a shout of laughter round
the table, and cries of '-right," "wrong"
in all directions
' Why. you forgot ' cried one, "that
the boots were paid for." "What's that
to do with it?"' said another: "didn't
Sue Yankee carry them off and Wasn't
It-.: b'll had '/" "OfcoiirSO it was." said
his neighbor, 'the Captain's sight."
'Bit you a sovereign he's wrong."
??Done; what do you say it is?" "Why
fifty dollars ami the boots. Am I right,
sir?"
Hut the New Yorker only laughed,
and the chorus with him became louder.
The question spread from table to table,
light down, round the rti. and up the
port side, "What did tho bootmaker
lose?" until our ears were deafened
with tho answers and bets.
At length it reached a great big Bos
ton man. who had set up among us a
sort of oracle, for he wore long, straight
black clothes of a clerical cut. and above
his ;_;rey head and huge, flapping ears, a
moustous shovel hat. Wo had nil ta
ken him lor a superannuated bjshop.
until his friends let out that be was bead
of a great insurance office all his life,
deep in all the misteries of policy and
premium; so that verily it was thought
assurance intleed, when a pert ensign
sai I, "Now. I'll tell you what, old buyek
bet you that you don't tell right off ?
what did the bootmaker lose ?"
"Sir," said the big man with much
gravity, "I decline the bet, but shall be
happy to answer your question if you
put it."
So he was fold and then the pert
ensign again, "Now tell us quick, old
boy?what did tho bootmaker lose?"
??What did he lose, sir? Why b" lost,
uf cum so, uuy uoiiars on the cue hand,
which ho returned to the moneychan
ger, and the forty-five which he gave
the rogue?he lost, sir. of course, ninety
live dollars und the boots." Hut, alas !
for the bishop.looking brother, u ludi
crous shout ofdcri'iou from some one
who had found it out greeted his reply
upon which he rose with a heavy frown
ami went ou deck. Then rose the cry,
"What did tho bootmaker lose?" from
all parts of the table. "Fifty- five dol
lars," cried a ventursoino guess, "Forty
five." cried another, equally confident of
his reasons. Hut the New Yorker smil
ed and laughed withal, telling us to i. i;
reasons for our answers. Tho very wai
ters carried it into the pantry, bake
house, and galleys, whence it. went to
the Bceond-ehsfl passengers and the fore
castle, until all round (he ship, in a cir
cle from the red-hot fuuucl where mostly
wc did congregate, was heard the famil
iar cry?"wh it did the bootmaker lose ?"
Header, how much was it, ami why!
An Irishman direct from the sod had
got into a muss ami was knocked down.
"And be sftre you wouldu't be after
batm' a man when he isdowu ?"said Bat.
"Certainly not," said his antagonist.
? TVix, theu I'll just lay whern \ am."
A Scared Duelist.
On a curtain occasion since the begiu
ning of 1871, the little town of Ouachi
ta City, La., on the banka of the Oun
chitu River, about twcnty?vc miles above
the city in nlonrou, two gentiemen
(Johnsou and Jones) concluded to play
a game of "aeven-upi: at ?5. They took
ihcir time, and intcT.*pcrsed the game
with several drinks. '1 hey finally fin
ished the game. Johnson, being wii -
uer, raked in the money.
Jones studied about it a while. He
made up his mind thai it wus not rght
for Juhnson to take the money, as they
were neighbors?uot gamblers, anyway
?and were only in fun. lie fund :
'?You arc not going to take that money
nrc you ?"
??Yes, indeed, I am," said Johnson.
' Well," said Jones, "you had as well
take it out of my pocket."
"Now, Jones, take that back."
"I shall not lake that back ; and if
you arc not satisfied, help yourself in any
way you choose."
"Hut Jones, I insist that you take it
back, because I don't steal, myself."
"I shall not take it back; and I now
lepeat that yon might as well have stolen
that money out of my pocket. If you
wish a difficulty, you can have it any
way you like."
'?Well, then, we will shoot it out,"
said Johnson.
"Very well, sir " said Jones, "mention
your lime and place."
Without further ceremony, all the ar
rangements were made for the duel to
take place that evening. ' Many of the
neighbors were there, and at onco con
eluded to have the fight conic off. They
knew Johnson, who proposed the thoot
ing, would back out unless he could be
encouraged. They knew on 'the other
Land, that.Jones wculiLeJaud ?p witlioaV
flinching. The seconds loaded the pis
tols with blank cartridges, and informed
Johnson of the fact, but did not let
Jones into the secret. They did this to
make Johnson stand, which, of ci ursc,
made him fearless. He went to the ap
pointed place, and .Jones was there, cool
and calm. The moment for action ar
rived, and all parties took their positions
?the distance being ten paces. The
pistols were handed to Johnson and
.(ones-, iu deathlike silence?every one
being as serious as death. The count
commenced :
"One !"
"St< p !" said Johnsen. "It is under
stood by all parties that there ain't no
bullets iu these pistols !"
.Jones, healing this, and knowing
nothing of it before, rather staggered
forward, reeling, looked into the muzzle
of his pistol, and cried out, "I'll b.
hacged if there niu't bullets iu mine !"
and at the sa ic time pulled dowu on
Johuson.
This was too much for Jobosoo. He
broke for the nearest house, which was
ahftut two hundred yards, and they say I
he doubled up like u four bladed knife,
aiul has lot been seen since, but son;
word buck that all might "shoot it out"
who choose, but he wanted none iu his. i
Jones won the field against all odds.
-?????_>--ai?i -
A GOOD Joke.? A rich juke is told
o"Tim Murphy, of Atlanta, now dead i
ntiici! is too good to be lost.
Tim was traveling on the West Point
Head, on a train controlled by Conduc
tor Moore and Engineer Buico. One
eight, nb"ut swo o'clock, the train ran
into a large embankment of dirt, usually
called a slide, by railr ad men and mi
ners, which completely upset everything
to the injury of many passengers, inclu
ding all ugCB, colors 'ind sizes. The
conductor and engineer, neither being
injured, was going the rounds to see the
extent of the disaster. They found the
passengers piled out in utter confusion,
one badly suspended from a window by
her crinoline, hollowing in a mournful
voice for help, who was rescued.
Next they came to Tim Murphy, who
was going on at a mournful rate.
"Well," says Conductor Moore,?
?how am you getting along." "Oh!"
says Tim : "Scalded !" Upon exami
nation, they found that the cooler, con
taining ice water, had upset its contents
upon Tim and so great wus his fr.ighjk,
that he imagined that he WVi. baCJy
scalded.
A wag. observing ou, tho diau; Qf a
house the e. viuc qf t\yo physicians., vc
u)&rkc.d ih^it It put him in mind of a
duvtJe barrelled gun; if one missed^ tlie
other would be sure tu kill.
**I Giie?8 Fm ih? ?an.w
The praiseworthy fwhfcoe?rtti^ entira
absence of self prido that charaefawises
the houcat old farmer of Maine ia.ijlus
trutcd by another honest former ojf, the*
same State, who, desiring to purchase ft
yoke of oxen, and being-informed that ?>
certain wealthy farmer in OnmbSHaadu
couuty had superior cattle fersadev 'Weft*
dowu thither to purchase) Meeting ft
man driviug an ox team, he inquired:
"Can you iufortu me where Mr. Weafc
lives ?"
"There's a number of Weste living
around here. Which one do you wish
to find ?" returned the stranger, who was
a stout built, keen-eyed man, habited iu
homespun, but bearing iu general ap
pearance unmistakable tokens of e&sa
and comfort, so far as finances sre con
ecroed.
"I doti't know what his Christian
name is," pursued our friend, 'but Be is
the owner of some very fine oxen."
"Well," responded the stranger, <4d?ey
all own some pretty fair oxen."
"Hut the one I wish to fiud baa oxen
for sale."
"As for that sir, I guess they'd any of
'cm sell if they could get their price."
"Hut," exclaimed the Oxford county
man, "tho Mr. West I wish to find is
quite wealthy." '.
"Yes? "Well, I reckon there oiu't#ny
of them very bad off," replied the ether
with n nnd.
"Why Mr. Wes-t," continued oar friend,
hesitating "has been represented to me
as a very close-fisted man, and not seru
pulously honest in- all his tratisneetrjm/*
With a curious twinkle of the eye,
and a gentlo pat on tho paunch of? hia
ncaj ox. he said :
"To tell the truth, sir, t guess thej
area close-fidcd set nil around, aud I
family, (ant there sxjmcthiug else
"Yes," replied tho sea roller for oxen.
desperately, "they say he has, been
caught in tho net of robbing his own
brother's chikcu coop.";
The stranger bowed and smiled.
"I goers. I'm the man. Come.'with
mo, and I'll show you as fine a stock of
cattle ns you can Gnd iu the State ; and
if you know what oxon are, there is no
danger of being cheated.
Ufi "Staid."?Lately, when - the
body of Geo. Kirk was lying at Wil
son it Brown's midcrtukitig establish
ment, on B. street, Virginia City, a maty
who appeared to bo n stranger in the
city, seeing! something of a crowd abuts
the door, approached and looked in at
the body lying in th< coffin.
"Man dead ?" asked he of a person
standing near. j
uYe*, sir," nhortly answered he who
was questioned.
Fidgctting a littl?, the stranger tried
l again : "How did he die?"
"Uuug," was the laconic reply. ?
"Hung! Ah, hung himself?"
'No; he was hung by the Vigilante*. **
Stranger again?"What did they
hang him for ?"
"He had been notified to Icavo tho
town, ud he came back."
When a man has boon notified t >
leave, can't ho never coiuc back hero
ncniin ?od
?-Yes, sir."
"Yes? Then how ii this?"
"Well, he caino back, aud"?pointing
to the coffin?uyou sc he staul."
There is a man out iu Wyoming who,
did not want for woman's wit when forced
to do woman's cork while his wife waa
on the jury. He appealed to her to
come home, but she wasn't in any pur
lioular hurry, us "be would now fiud out
how nice it was to stay at homo and
mind the children, while she was loafing
around the court house as he used to
do." The man went home aud hired a
good looking cook, and sent bin Wife
word to bj sure and not coma homo until
she wanted to ou his account, but as soon
as the news reached her she Wit od im
mediately, and is now one of the loudest
op posers of female suffrage.
IIBIBW? ?
II country poet, after looking about
over life, has come to the following
rhyming conclusion: lCth, I wouldn't
lire forever, I wouldn't if 1 could; but
I needn't f? it about it,, fot I cotdaVt
if I would.' !t
An old ucgro wonmu, near, Ilichmoud,.
Ya., is the veritable "oldest inhabitant.'*
She says nho cooked for do mnn
" ? ? m
duggod 1c deems llivcr. <