The herald and news. [volume] (Newberry S.C.) 1903-1937, 1909-04-27


in much as he suddenly remembered
having seen the same lines on the fly
leaf of his friend, Martin Sawyer's
Hymn Book the only difference be-
ing the substitution of his own name
for that of Martins besides, it was
too boastful for his unpresuming
nature. He accordingly replaced it
by stanza which ran thus:
When I kin read my titles kleer
To menshins in the skies,
III bid farewell to every fear,
And wipe my weepin' eyes.
"Wy that's hyme!' he exclaim-
ed, as he again rubbed out what he
had written. After kicking his feet
alternately in the air, and scratching
his head violently, he produced an
other couplet, which was more sue
cessful as far as it went: here it is:
Ny heads a akin, my hearts a
beatin';
I has no wish for sleep nor eatin'.
This was original; and possessed
the additional merit Of being true;
for his restlessness and loss of appe-
tite were the main facts upon which
his sister had based her suspicious of
his metamorphosis into June bug,
and which had occasioned his father
and mother so much uneasiness about
him. David, however, could not pro-
ceed another line further. He slap
ped his forehead, groaned, kicked
and tore his hair, but he could not
advance: the inspired labors of David
Hartman like the Fayrie Queen and
Don Juan was doomed to remain an
unfinished effort of genius according
to the usual methods of composition,
though the plan he soon afterwards
adopted succeeded admirably.
It is said that people in love are
excessively irritable. The vast num-
Der of suicides and duels among
lovers is proof of this. The most
trivial disappointment disturbs the
temper, and any display of indifer-
ence is fragrant hypocrisy. David had
no experience in Disgusting the state
of his feelings: poor fellow! he could
not, for he was honest-honest to &C.
centricity. A moment after he had
torn his hair, he leapt from the screw
sweep, and holding the slate before
him drove his clenched fist through
it,-thereby shattering it into hun
dred pieces as easily as if it had been
a pane of glass.
II know wat I kin do," he cried
aloud, and "I'u be ding'd eff I don't
do it," So he hastened to the stable
saddled his horse and rode away at
full speed.
About two miles from Mr.. Hart
mans, in those days, was the store
house of a jolly old gentleman by the
name of Gelthart. On the same Fri
day evening just alluded to, a party
of several youngsters of the neighbor-
hood had gathered at Gelthart's for
the purpose of engaging in the sport
of throwing "long bullets" and dis
cussing the best way Of enjoying
themselves during the Easter holidays
near at hand. While they were rest
ing from the severe exercise, the elat-
tering Of horses hoofs was heard,
and ,horseman at full speed soon
made his appearance.
"Wy dat's Dave Hartmann said
one Of the young men.
''Dat's a fack,'' exclaimed an
other.
"Some one Or udder mus be a dyin'
at his house." cried third, "and he
is comm arter the burryin' clothes. "
'Wy howdy, Dave,' they all en-
quired together, as David dismounted,
"wat makes you ride 50 fast?"
"Can't a feller ride as fast as he
wants to?" answered David some
what petulantly.
"Oh, cirtingly," they all replied,
"but how's all at home?'
''Tolluble well," responded David,
"Good evenin to you, Mr.. Gelthart. "
'The same to you, Mr.. Hartman.
How does your copperosity seem to
sagaciate?" inquired that jolly gen.
tleman.
''Jes middlin,' Sur," replies our
poet. "Have you got emmy sugar
kisses left?'