Marshall County Republican., 1875-02-18
4 RACE FOR LIFE.

One hundred years ago there lived
upon the shores of Stevens river Ga 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 dis
comfort ard even suffering to those
around him. This fault was an almost
irresistible fondness for practical joking,
that would not allow him to let an OPP
portunity pass unimproved wherein he
could crafty this special passion of his
being.
There came time, however, when the
exercise of this peculiarly brought upon
him an ordeal so sharp that it cured his
unfortunate propensity, to the great joy
of his family and friends. The process
was disagreeable, but the cure was eff
fectual and permanent.
One day Peter had been at work few
miles from his home. After his day s
labor was finished, his employer invited
him to partake of the evening meal with
him this invitation Peter accepted, and
then, his system fortified with hearty
supper, he commenced his journey
homeward.
The path which Peter trod that night
would lead one to-day through cultivated
fields and by many pleasant farm-houses,
but then it was an unbroken. forest.
1t was a dark, cold December night,
the wind swept fitfully among the great
pines and beeches, and strange, mourn
ing sounds went sobbing through the
forest now and then an owl uttered its
hoarse cry, or the sudden rattling of the
dead leaves told where some timid ami
mai scurried away from the sound of
ootSteps.
But Peter was strong and stout hearted,
and trudged quietly along, without pay
ing much attention to the sights and
sounds around him, until he had
achieved perhaps one-half of his journey,
when suddenly his ears caught the sound
of a horses feet descending the long,
rocky path behind him. Gradually the
sound drew nearer, until the sharp,
peculiar voice of the hOrseman could be
heard urging tie beast to a faster gait.
"Ah. ha ~ said Peter to himself, as
he heard the familiar tones, sthat is
Uncle Tom Barry"
Now Uncle Tom and Peter were neigh
bOrs, that is to say, their clearings lay
about a mile apart, and none knew better
than Peter that the old man was natural
Iy of timid disposition, and further
more, that nothing inspired him with
greater fear, nothing that he had not
rather meet, than a wolf,
No sooner, therefore, had Peter be-
come convinced that the horseman be
hind him was his neighber than he re-
solved to use this trait of Uncle Toms s
as a means of working out what he con-
sidered would be a most capital joke
His plans were soon laid, and he proposed
to put them into execution. Creeping
through the underground which bor-
dered his path, he crouched down and
patiently awaited the approach of his
victim. He had not waited long before
Uncle Tom, his horse at sharp trot and
himself casting timid glances around,
arrived opposite his place of conceal
ment- Peter allowed him to pass few
PAGES, and then springing forward on his
hands and knees, he uttered one or two
snarling yelps, followed by the loud
clear, gathering cry of the wolves.
The effect upon Uncle Tom was elec
trical. Springing half way out of his
saddle, he uttered scream of terror
and then; STOPPING until his head nearly
touched the name, he plunged his spurs
into the horses hanks, and was off down
the road like shot. AS for Peter, hs
rolled over ON his back and kicked hi
heels In huge enjoyment of his SUCCESS
Loud and long he laughed, OCCASIONAL.
varying he performance by making thu
forest ring with repetition of the wild
savage cry that had struck such terro
into Uncle Toms timid heart. But ther'
"a an end to all things, and 50, after /,
while, there was an end to Peters mirth
and he, wiping mis- eyes, regained th'
path, and was about to resume his jour
ney, when le heard sound that sen