The Volcano lubricator. (Volcano, W. Va.) 1871-1879, 1873-09-02
One evening, week before last

thought he would have dance up at
his ranch, on the romantic and pic
turesque banks of Gales Fork. Why
not? Benny, boy, wanted to raise the
wind, as we'll as shake his heels to the
delightful music Of
when last saw my Meg,
She was taking of l trip in \ government
ship, -,
Ten thousand miles away"
Or, perhaps, who will question, Ben
ny was on the melancholy, or the Sc
rious. and would tune his harp and his
legs to
Three old crows sat out upon tree;
They were black as crows could be.
One old crow says unto his mate.
w hat shall we do Tor something TO ate."
Or, to be more CHEEKY, why should not
Benny invite his friends from the jun
giles, and trip the light fantastic toe
with the Dulcena del Toboso Of his
heart, and who eats his cabbage, to the
dulcet melody Of
"will YOU meet me tonight at the gate, love,
Will you meet me tonight at the gate :"
Ben's resolution was taken, and after
securing cash capital of Sixty-two
and one-half cents, a gallon OF the
best Parkersburg whiskey was sent for,
fiddle: and a Parson invited,
and al! things were lovely. Ben; in
imagination, at least, saw the twenty
five cent shinplasters passing down into
the depths oil his black pants, new
conqueSts among the fair bushwhack-
ers, and more whiSkey; while his part
ner in inlamy and sin, Madame Mart.
King dreamed OF new calico. new hose,
flaming ribbons and set otcheap jew
elry. The eventful night came. The
moon was banked in the east. Heav-
ems vault, save here and there, was
set in stars, with a ground of deep
est blue; while in the far Off west,
robing the horizon in sweetest raiment,
were clouds Of golden sheen touched
by the gorgeous hues Of the departing
sun; all nature breathed incense fra
grant to the soul. The little brook
passing the enchanting cabin Of Ben
caught up the inspiration OF the night,
and whispered tales Of love and chast-
ity to its vine-clad shores and nesting
hooks; the woods murmured low, and
the stars sang sweet to the listening
earth. LiSten What hear you? a
footstep. A dusky form energies like
the shadow Of the Wandering Jew.
from the brush. Ills the fiddler. It's!
lis! 'Tis!-John Titus. He opens the
fascinating box, runs his dirty fingers
ACROSS the at-gut, he screws her up to
his ear, sounds her.
That strain again; it had dying fall;
., il came DER my ear like the sweet breath
That breatheS upon bank Of violets,
Stealing and giving odor."
The sweet strains have scarce sang
back their last echo to the wondering
soul, before three more actors in the
orgies Of the night hand in their cards
and are admitted to the dress circle.
Who are they? Their faces are not
entirely strangers to US. why, bless
me, how do you do?" falls from the
lips of Madame King, alias Mrs.
Ben. Nutter. The strangers TO the
reader are Ike Mclntire, his wife and
sister law; the latter poor, unfor-
tunate young lady who has lost the use
OF her limbs, but makes UP for this de-
iiciency by the serenity OF her counte-
nance, and the unceaSing flow Of her
tongue. They are all amiabe and
gentle and sweet. this branch Of the
McIntire family. What; no! Who is
this tina. again darkens the threshold
of mirth and adds ore more to the
number OF the gay and festive th-ong
assembled under the palatial roof OF
Benny's cabin, to do homage to beauty
and loneliness xHa, ha, this is the
Parson. With Wat throbbipg bo-
som he contemplates the scene before
him; with what rapture his meek and
gentle blue eyes drink in the voluptu-
business Of Madame King and fhe ra-
dance Of the McIntire family. The
Parson, as Mclntire had don@before
him, paid in his quarter at the door,
and it being now at the witching hour
oil eleven, and no more guests arriving
from the bush. the fiddle is ordered to
play, the dance begins and the Parson
Mrs. King, Mrs: NJ Intire AMI Benny.
boy; are inextricablv lost in The giddy
maze of French Four, and the last
seen Of them, they were going it yet.
II muSt not be understood that the