Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-08-23
A RACE FOR LIFE
a Cure for Practical Joking.

One hundred years ago there lived
upon the shores Of Stephens river Ia
small stream entering into the Casco
bay) a man named Peter John, an hon
est, upright fellow, good neighbor and
friend, but with one abominable habit
that won him many enemies, and
caused much discomfort and even suf-
ferlng to those around him. This was
an almost irresistible fondness for prac.
teal joking that would not allow him
to let an opportunity pass unim proved,
wherein he could crafty this special
passion of his being. rs. i
There came a time however, when
the exercises of this peculiarly brought
upon him an ordeal so sharp that il
cured his unfortunate propensity to the
great JOY of his friends and family.
The process was disagreeble, but the
cure was efectual and permanent.
One day Peter had been at work a
few miles from home. After his davis
labor was finished, his employer invited
him to partake of the evening meal
with him. This invitation Peter &C
cepted, and then, his system fortified by
a hearty supper, he commenced his
journey homeward.
The path that Peter trod that night
would Lead one to-day through cultivat-
ed fields and by many pleasant farm
houses; but then 1t was an unbroken
forest.
1t was dark, cold, December night
the wind swept ftfully among the great
pines and beeches, and strange, moan.
ing sounds went sobbing through the
forest; now and then an owl uttered its
hoarse cry, or a sudden rafting of the
the coarse leaves told where some tim
i'd animals scurried away from sounds
Of footsteps.
But Peter was strong and light-heart-
ed, and trudged quietly along with
out paying much attention to the
sights and sounds around him, until he
had achieved perhaps one-half his
journey, when suddenly his ears caught
the sound of a horses feet descending
the long rocky path behind him. Grad
ually the sound grew nearer, until the
sharp, peculiar voice of the horseman
could be heard urging the beast to a
faster gait.
"Ah! hal" said Peter to himself, as
he heard the familiar tones, "That is
uncle Tom Barry"
Now uncle Tom and Pete were neigh
bors, that is to say, their clearings lay
about a mile apart, and none knew bet
ter than Pete that TIE 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 him was his neighbor than he re-
solved to use this trait of uncle Toms
IS a means of working out what he con-
sldered wonld be most capital joAe
His plans were socn laid, and be pro-
ceeded to put them into execution.
Creeping through the brush which
bordered his path, he crouched down
and patiently awaited the approach of
his victim. He had not waited long be-
fore uncle Tom, his horse at a sharp
trot, and himself casting tinid chances
around, arrived opposite to his place of
concealment. Peter allowed him to
pass few PAGES, and then sprinping
forward on his hands and knees. he uf,
tered one or two snarling yelps, follow
ed by the loud, clear, gathering cry of
the wolves.
The effect upon uncle Tom was cleo