Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1869-01-01
SUIT LovINGooD,s HOG RIDE.
From the Chattanooga Gazette

From the Chattanooga Gazette
Hearing an unusual noise on the road
one morning, l looked for the cause -
Dutchtown was all alive, shouting, cheer
ing, laughing.
Here came an Israelite, in whom
there was much guile" hatless, coatless,
breathless, as fast as his abridged legs
would allow, protesting most vociferous-
" that he "vash not Levi Shacobs. =
Sut was in hot pursuit, with table knife
in his mouth, and clothes line in his
hands. He would throw the coils over
the Jews head, lariat fashion, with great
precision of aim, and he. with equal dex-
terity, would shed them off again, in
creasing his speed and bis protestations
against the "Shacobs" charge.
Sut would shout furiousIy in reply,
Yes, you am Jacobs. Whar's my
breaches, you burned close clipt, Ch-st
KILN, hog hatin, bainehed aiged, son Of
clothes horse l means to fust cir
cumcize yer snout, then hang you AFTER
wards. Yeres the tools," brandishing
the knife and rope.
The vender of raiment made his shout
der blades and elbows fairly hulter with
his terrible efforts to "get on more
steam" When SUIT failed in his efforts
to lasso his victim, he would bring the
coils with whistling force across the lsra-
elitish hips, fairly raising him from the
ground, accompanying it with Thar,
that's wus nor yer bed bugs, an feas,
haint hit WARS them breeches 2"
The individual who "vash not name
Shacobs" darted into the mouth Of a
mining tunnel, and | detained SUIT.
"What's the matter, Sut e.
"Nuff's the matter, by golly. If old
Job hisself wer inside this yer shut, he'd
shed hit and wade into the dumpy cuss,
afore you cud say drink. That ar cuss-
ed one story varmint in the tunnel thar,
stole my breeches, my cross bard breech-
es: he stole EN- from ole SOW in Nash
vile, he did, and Use arter him."
But he says he's not Jacobs"
Yes he am Jacobs. Haint he got
white face, goose wing snot, rat eyes,
black har, bainch laigs, slick hat, an
breastpin, and don't he sellshuts, an jack
its, an coats an fishin lines Oh you
cant fool me. | knows chestnut boss
from boss chesnut."
$ Yes, but your description is general;
it is adapted to most of his race"
"Well, hit mayn't be him, but eff you'd
a let me alone, I'd soon skeer'd him
outen a pair ov breeches in the dark owe
that tunnel thar. His skeer wer cum
in tn he'd powerful fas. Jacobs, Jeru
salem, ur Jehosaphat, hits all the same
tn me. Use arter breetches, hot; an sum
breetches mus cum, now"
Tell us about your breeches, SUIT,
and let that poor frightened Jew alone"
Sut thrust his head into the tunnel and
shouted "Say, ole tabernickiI, Ise got
you now whar Alexander had the pole
cat, and I'm gwine tn watch the hole
A pair nv breetches and jackit for in
trus', ur rite thar yerll lie yer bones"
swell, l spec l must as well tell hit
myself. fur its boun tn leak out enyhow.
Everybody in Nashville knows hit, an
my karackter is made thar fer life, es be-
in the durn dest plum fool in Davidson,
not sceptin my own Dad.
81 had foller'd whisky waggin wifi
out halter, plum inter town, and wer
slungin along narrer lane name Union
street. My eyes swell'd es big es aigs at
the bran new sights and souns, an me
jes reddy to ketch the runninist kind Nv
a skeer. In one NV my suddin jerks a
dodgin sumthin, l felt boff Owe my hine
galus buttons loose holt, an my cross
bard breetches wer beginnin tn rnkel
roun my ankls bad, and a gittin lower
every move. To make hit wus, thar wus
a pint flask NV sv ell he'd whisky in wun
pockit, and ponc ov corn bred in
luther.
"The internal street wer sock full ov
rale fine sunfower wimen, smellin ov
bargamint, and smelln kingdum cum
all around EN-. The men folks owe that
thar town mus be ornery set owe cusses
not tn give the wimin sumthin else tn du
besides buddlin together in that street,
ies like a drove owe red com'd hens.--
Hits burned shame.
" | cudn't strip tn fix things thar, es l
orter dun. Use so monsous shame faced
it hes made agin me in gettin along mos
es bad es my unyeathly looks an my
burned fool mater; but sumthin he'd tu be
dun, and tibet durn'd soon. Suppose
them trouses bod fell jcs thar; why I'd
a foller'd EN- tn the pavement in twink
lin, ded es a stone hammer. l begun tn
serch fer hole. an seed narrer path,
they calls hit alley, gwine out owe the
corner owe big ginger cake and gouber
pea factory. | took 'zaminin look up
hit, and seen nobody, so | gifts me sa
vim holt wifi boff hans oato the waist
band, an | shot in thar tn fix things. l
felt sorter like rabbit dus jus arter he's
got inter boiler tree, and hear the dorg
tar mouful oye bark off clost Anime his
tail. tuck me q bubble hon the fust
thing, on the strainth owe tindin safe
spot
81 he'd on a notail coat, sum calls hit
a roundabout, and bobtaii shut. In
gineral way l likes bobtail shuts; they
duseut ketch dust es bad es long, fan
tails, an eff you has deep wadin tu du,
they duseut git wet. A dry shutail is a
comfortin thing IN 90 tn sleep wifi, arter