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SETTLING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.
TRANGERS visiting the beautiful city of Burlington
have not failed to notice that one of the handsomest young men they meet is very bald, and they fall into the usual error of attributing this premature baldness to dissipation. But such is not the case. This
young man, one of the most exemplary Bible-class scholars in the city, went to a Baptist sociable out in West Hill one night about two years ago. He escorted three charming girls, with angelic countenances and human appetites, out to the refreshment table, let them eat all they wanted, and then found he had left his pocket-book at home, and a deaf man that he had never seen before at the cashier's desk. The young man with his face aflame, bent down, and said softlyI am ashamed to say I have no change with
.?" shouted the cashier. “I regret to say,” the young man repeated in a little louder key, “ that I have unfortunately come away without any change to
Change two ? ” chirped the old man. “Oh, yes; I can change five if you want it.”
"No," the young man explained in a terrible penetrating whisper, for half-a-dozen people were crowding up behind him, impatient to pay their bills and get away, "I don't want any change, because
“Oh, don't want no change ?” the deaf man cried gleefully. “ 'Bleeged to ye, 'bleeged to ye. 'Taint often we get such generous donations. Pass over your bill.”
“No, no,” the young man explained, “I have no funds
“Oh, yes, plenty of fun,” the deaf man replied, growing tired of the conversation, and noticing the long line of
people waiting with money in their hands; “but I haven't got time to talk about it now. Settle, and move on.” But," the young
man gasped out, “I have no money
“Go Monday?" queried the deaf cashier. “I don't care when you go; you must pay, and let these other people come up."
“I have no money!” the mortified young man shouted, ready to sink into the earth, while the people all around him, and especially the three girls he had treated, were giggling and chuckling audibly.
“Owe money ?” the cashier said; “of course you do;
"I can't pay!" the youth screamed, and by turning his pockets inside out, and yelling his poverty to the heavens, he finally made the deaf man understand. And then he had to shriek his full name three times, while his ears fairly rung with the half-stifled laughter that was breaking out all around him; and he had to scream out where he worked, and roar when he would pay, and he couldn't get the deaf man to understand him until some of the church members came up to see what the uproar was, and, recognising their young friend, made it all right with the cashier. And the young man went out into the night and clubbed himself, and shred his locks away ontil he was as bald as an egg.
Robert J. Burdette.
MR. HIGGINBOTHAM'S CATASTROPHE.
YOUNG fellow, a tobacco pedler by trade, was on his
way from Morristown, where he had dealt largely with the Deacon of the Shaker settlement, to the village of Parker's Falls, on Salmon River. He had a neat little cart, painted green, with a box of cigars depicted on each sidepanel, and an Indian chief, holding a pipe and a golden tobacco-stalk, on the rear. The pedler drove a smart little mare, and was a young man of excellent character, keen at a bargain, but none the worse liked by the Yankees; who, as I have heard them say, would rather be shaved with a sharp razor than a dull one. Especially was he beloved by the pretty girls along the Connecticut, whose favour he used to court by presents of the best smoking tobacco in his stock; knowing well that the country lassies of New England are generally great performers on pipes. Moreover, as will be seen in the course of my story, the pedler was inquisitive, and something of a tattler, always itching to hear the news and anxious to tell it again.
After an early breakfast at Morristown, the tobacco pedler, whose name was Dominicus Pike, had travelled seven miles through a solitary piece of woods, without speaking a word to anybody but himself and his little grey mare. It being nearly seven o'clock, he was as eager to hold a morning gossip as a city shopkeeper to reach the morning paper. An opportunity seemed at hand when, after lighting a cigar with a sun-glass, he looked up and perceived a man coming over the brow of a hill, at the foot of which the pedler had stopped his green cart. Dominicus watched him as he descended, and noticed that he carried a bundle over his shoulder on the end of a stick, and travelled with a weary, yet determined pace. He did not look as if he had started
in the freshness of the morning, but had footed it all night, and meant to do the same all day.
"Good morning, mister," said Dominicus, when within speaking distance. “You go a pretty good jog. What's the latest news at Parker's Falls ? "
The man pulled the broad brim of a grey hat over his eyes, and answered rather sullenly that he did not come from Parker's Falls, which, as being the limit of his own day's journey, the pedler had naturally mentioned in his inquiry.
"Well, then," rejoined Dominicus Pike, "let's have the latest news where you did come from. I'm not particular about Parker's Falls. Any place will answer."
Being thus importuned, the traveller—who was as illlooking a fellow as one would desire to meet in a solitary piece of woods—appeared to hesitate a little, as if he was either searching his memory for news, or weighing the expediency of telling it. At last mounting on the step of the cart, he whispered in the ear of Dominicus, though he might have shouted aloud and no other mortal would have heard him—
“I do remember one little trifle of news,” said he. “Old Mr. Higginbotham, of Kimballton, was murdered in his orchard, at eight o'clock last night, by an Irishman and a nigger. They strung him up to a branch of a St. Michael's pear-tree, where nobody would find him till the morning."
As soon as this horrible intelligence was communicated, the stranger betook himself to his journey again with more speed than ever, not even turning his head when Dominicus invited him to smoke a Spanish cigar and relate all the particulars. The pedler whistled to his mare and went up the hill, pondering on the doleful fate of Mr. Higginbotham, whom he had known in the way of trade, having sold him many a bunch of long-nines, and a great deal of pig-tail,