The weekly union record. [volume] (Oroville, Calif.) 1864-1866, 1865-10-07
The Great Dog-Fight in Frogtown.


There is an excellent moral to the
following story which is told with great
skill. 1t shows us how whole village
is sometimes torn to pieces by a fight
between two dogs.
The most remarkable fight on record
came off at Frogtown, on the frontier
of Maine, some years ago. engrossed
the entire community in one indiscrim-
mate melee-interminable lawsuits or
suits at law-distraction of the town
and its downfall or ruin.
A fanciful genius, named Joe Tuck
er, man about town, a lounger with
out visible means of support-a do
nothing, loafng, cigar-smoking, good
natured fellow, owned pretty beast,
always at Joe's heels, and known as
well as his master, and liked far more
by the Frogtowners. One day Joe and
his dog were passing Bunion's grocery
store, when a pie-bald, ugly-looking
dog, standing alongside a woodwagon,
bounded onto Joe Fuckers dog
knocked him heels over head, and so
frightened Bob Carter's wife, who was
passing towards her husbands black
smith shop with his dinner, that she
stumbled backwards, and her old sun
bonnet Topped off, and scared the horse
attached to the wagon. He started,
hit Latherum's barber-pole, upset the
load of wood, all of which falling down
Gumbo's refreshment cellar, struck one
of Gumbo's children on the head, killed
it for a short time stone dead, and so
alarmed Mrs. Gumbo that she drop
ped stew-pan Of boiling hot oysters
into the lap of her customer who sat
waiting for the savory connection by a
table in the corner, instead of the dish.
Mrs. Gumbo rushed for the child; the
customer for the door. Mrs. Gumbo
screamed; the customer yelled.
'Oh oh! oh-oh-oh, my poor child
cried Mrs. Gumbo.
'Eh, e-h-e-e-e,' screamed the poor
child.
'Oh, murder-r-r! Oh, my everlast-
ING sir, I'm scalded to all eternity!'
Murder murdern roared the poor
customer.
The horse, part of the wagon. and
some wood were on their mad career.
The owner of the strange dog came out
of the store just in time to see Joe
Tucker seize rock to demolish the
savage dog, and not waiting to see Joe
let drive, gave him such pop on the
back of the head that poor Joe fell forty
feet down the street, and striking a
long ladder on which Jim Ederby was
perched, paint-pot in hand, some thirty
feet above terra frma, brought ladder,
Jim, and paint-pot sprawling to the
earth, gripping poor Jim for life, and
sprinkling blue paint over the broad
cloths, satinets and calicoes of Abra-
ham Miller, formal and even-temper-
ed Quaker, who ran out of the door
just as the two dogs had got fairly at
lit, hip and thigh, nip and catch. A
glance at things seemed to convince
Abraham of the true state of the case,
Iand, in an unusually elevated tone Of
voice, Abraham called out to Joe
Tucker, who had righted up:
Joseph Tucker, thy dogs a-fght-
Iingr
Let 'em fight it out, yelled the pug
nacious owner Of the strange dog. Let
'em fghtit out. III bet log Of wood
my dog can beat any dog in town, and
can beat the owner
We have said Abraham Miller was
a quiet man; Quakers are proverbially
Eso. But the gauntlet thrown down by
1.-THE stranger from the country stirred
1.-THE gaH Of Abraham, and he rushed
into the store and from the back yard,
having slipped his collar, Abraham
brought forth brindle cur, strong, low,
and powerful.
Friend said the excited Quaker,
thy dog shall be well beaten, | promise
thee Hyke, seize upon him.
Turk, here boyr
| And the dogs went at it.