The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-01-23

for joy as he heard the sentence he
thought he should never hear again.
Nov, what do you propose to DOR in
quired Benjamin Hambleton.
''I says fer you to write to dat man
and see whut he says. "We'n share
profits. OF course you kin have mos
haff," generously.
''Mos' haff, !" Indignantly. 'Mos' half,
when I does all de writin' and reading?
No, sir! I gifts whole haff or not write. !"
"An right, all right" hurriedly as
visions of a lost fortune again float be-
fore him. Amiability being restored,
they worked and plotted together like
old cronies should. The letter was writ
ten and posted; they had only to wait a
week or two before they could dress up
and live like folks in the big 'ouse.
Uncle Peter began to wear ''the big
gest" air imaginable. He became lazier
than ever and plagued Marse Bob al
most out of his wits. The negroes all
wondered what had got into Uncle
Peter. He usually bade them good
morning in the pleasantest manner, but
now it was with the condescension of a
monarch. Angeline was no longer the
"apple of his eye" She found herself
not noticed at all, and thereby became
sulky and switched about more than
ever while she walked. But it all was
lost upon Uncle Peter. He was going
to get rich in his old age, and that was
all he wanted. He dreamed of it at
night, and went a-day dreaming over it
too.
Uncle Peter was too talkative, how
ever, to let his secret remain one longer
than few days. He had no idea he
had ''let the cat out of the bag but be-
fore one week had expired all the negroes
on the plantation knew he had discov-
cred a method for getting rich, and all
were on the qui vive for discovery, but
they did not let Uncle Peter have an
inlhling of their intentions.
One Saturday afternoon as the clouds
m the west began to lose some of their
exquisite coloring, for night was creep
ing on, all of the hands, Uncle Peter in
cluded, had gathered about the back
door of the big house. All eyes were
centered upon Marse Bob, who stood on
the stone steps with stone jug in one
hand and cup in the other. Every
face was wreathed in smiles at the
thought of dram. AS Marse Bob
poured out the liquid which ran with
such good old sound, $50 good, good,
good, good" it seemed to say, he talked
and gave much good, good. good, good
advice while he distributed it around.
The darkies had just wiped their mouths
on their coat sleeves preparatory to leav-
ing, when a little negro boy came up
with the mail. Marse Bob glanced over
it hastily, and called out:
tHalloa, here, Peter-a postal for you."
"Yas, sir" responded Uncle Peter,
stepping up with happy expectation in
his tones and movements.
''Shall read it for your with a twin
kle in his eyes, for he had read it while
speaking. and had heard something of
Peters boasting lately.
"Yas, sir, s'pose you do" responded
Peter, who was feeling generous after
his smile. He didn't care just then if
all the darkies in Christendom knew how
to get rich.
Marse Bob cleared his throat, while
all the hands turned around to hear
what Uncle Peters correspondent had
to say.
"How to get rich.-Eat nothing, wear
nothing, and work like old Nick"
There was a shout of laughter from
every pair of lips save Uncle Peters.
He was dumb with disappointment and
rage. He said not word, but turned
away and walked off ''a sadder and
wiser man"
1t is a month later. Riches are never
mentioned by Peter now. He is cured.
His fellow workmen plagued his poor
old life almost out of him, until one
morning he turned like wounded lion
at bay and made them all fly. Since
that time he has lived in peace. A curl
Gus GOODNESS grew up between him and
the preacher at one time, but the genial
nature of both old darkies has thawed
that out, and they are the same old
cronies, only they never speak of wealth
to each other.-Mrs. E. M. Stewart in
Atlanta Constitution.