Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1872-08-10
A Race For Life.

One hundred years ago there lived
upon the shores of Stephens Rivera
small stream emptying into Casco Bay
a man named Peter John. An honest,
upright fellow, good neighbor and
friend, but with one abominable habit,
that won him many enemies, and caused
much discomfort aud even suffering to
those around him. This fault was AL.
most irresistible fondness for practical
joking, that would not allow him to let
an opportunity pass unimproved where
in he could crafty this special passion
OF his being.
There came time, however, when the
exercise of this popularity brought up
on him an ordeal SO sharp that it cured
his unfortunate propensity, to the great
joy OF his family aud friends. The pro-
cess was disagreeable, but the cure was
effectual and permanent.
| One day Peter had been at work n
few miles from his home. After his
days labor was finished, his employer
invited him to partake Of the evening
meal with him this invitation Peter ac-
cepted, and then, his system fortified by
hearty supper, he commenced his jour
ney homewald.
The path which Peter trod that night
would lead one to-day through cultivat-
ed fields and by many pleasant farm
houses, but then il was broken forest.
1t was dark, cold December night,
the wind swept among the great pines
and beeches, and sllange, mourning
sounds went sobbing through the forest |;
| h,n ,,.
cry, or the sudden Iattling OF the dead
leaves told when some timid animal
scurried away from the sound of foot
steps.
But Peter was strong and stout-heart-
ed, and trudged quietly along, without
paying much attention to the sights and
sounds around him, until he had achiey-
cd perhaps one hall his journey, when
suddenly his ears caught the sound OF
horses feet descending the long, rocky
path behind him. Gradually the sounds
drew nearer, until the sharp peculiar
voice of the horseman could be heard
urging the horse to faster gait.
"Ah, hal" said Peter To himself, as he
heard the familiar tones, "that is Uncle
Tom Barry"
Now Uncle Tom and Peter were
neighbors, that is to say, their cearings
lay about a mile apart, and none knew
better than Peter that the old man was
naturally of timid disposition, and
furthermore that nothing inspired him
with greater fear, nothing that he had
not rather meet than wolf
No sooner, therefore, had Peter be-
come convinced that the horseman be-
hind was his neighbor, tlan he resolved
to use this trait of Uncle Toms as a
means of working out what he consider
ed would be most capital joke. His
plans were soon laid, and he proceeded
TO put them INTO execution. Creeping
through the underground that bordered
his path, he crouchod down and patient.
ly awaited the approach OF his victim.
He had not waited long before Uncle
Tom, his horse at sharp trot and him
self casting timid glances around, arrived
opposite the place of his concealment,
Peter allowed him TO pass few PAGES,
and then springing forward on his hands
and knees, he uttered one or two snarl-
ing yelps, followed by the loud, clear
gathering cry of the wolves.
The effect upon Uncle Tom was elec-
trical. Springlpg half way out of his
saddle, he uttered scream of terror,
and then, STOPPING until his head nearly
touched the name, he plunged his spur
into the horses fanks and was off down
the road like shot. As for Peter, he
rolled over on his back and kicked his
heels in huge enjoyment of success.
Loud and long he laughed, occasionally