Year: 1861




Benhamed The waves are lashed to furv
Benhamed sees the great danger he is in,
is horror struck, and holds on to his frail
bark with a deathlike grip while the gale
increases. He seizes the oars, but how can
human strength cope with all the elements
combined. He hears the rumbling of the
dam at the two locks, thinks his case is
hopeless one, and in the frenzy of despair
clutches at every passing object. He cries
tor assistance, but no answering shout is
heard. His garments are saturated with
RAIN; he is about giving himself up to his
fate; he falls on his knees in the bottom of
the boat, not to pray, but to see if his stom-
ach bitters are safe. He finds the bottle,
and determines to die, if die he must, with
his five sings He raises his head, looks
around him in every direction for succor,
until his eye catches glimpse cf the small
island at the mouth of Jack s creek. Hope
is again enkindled in his bosom; he springs
to the oar and sculls vigorously for the is
land. If he can but reach it in time-he
is nearing it-but, great God the mad
waters are bearing him past this, his only
hope of escape. Black despair is again
settling upon his brow, but he resolves to
make one more effort befUre resigning him.
sell to his fate. lie leans over on the edge
OF the skitf as it flies past, and with gi-
nts grasp seizes small root that is dan
cling upon the waters, attached to some
shrubbery on the island. and pulls himself
and boat ashore. Down on his knees again,
he freezes on to his bottle of the essence of
mania pOtu, elevateS his face to the still
darkcned heavens, and-takes drink; un-
grateful man he should have returned
thanks for his deliverance from watery
grave.


But his trouble was not yet at an end :;
here he was on an uninhabited island with
out a copper in his pocket, and his boat
was not strong enough to attempt to reach
the mainland in the then troubled state of
the elements. What could he do? To
cry for assistance would be useless. He
sat himself down bemoaning his sad fate.
AS he sat thinking, he felt a drowsiness
come over him that he could not by any
means shake off. He was going to the
land of Nod, and he could not help it. The
bottle falls from his hand. lie rolls off lie
stone on which he had been sitting Ben
hamed slceps-slceps on that lone island
needless of the chilling wind, the binding
rain, the vivid fishes of lightning, the
thunder's deep diapason, the roaring of tie
waves, and all the excitement e terrill
storm yeS, he sleeps, not that balmy sleep
that is usually the reward of tired nature
1t was a dreamy, drunken snooze But
look, he smiles in his sleep; Benhamed is
dreaming, dreaming of his home in II e
land Of Switzer kase and Lager of the
many happy scenes of his boyhood days
away in old Bcrks,' of the times when he
tramped over the hills and plains of Tul-
pehockcn, when with card of ginger
bread under his arm he made his way, hand
in hand with the maid of his heart, to the
fair at Kutztown. But now change comes
over the spirit of his dream. That beauti-
full smile disappears, cloud darkens his
brow. Now he dreams of sundry acci-
dents by flood and field of r-brcadth
escapes from the imminent deadly storm,
of his being shipwrecked and cast away on
the identical island on which Robinson
Crusoe' lived But Benhamed, unlike





presence of a man Friday to cheer his lone
ly hours. Thus he lay dreaming, he knew
not how long. When he awoke, odd Sol
was pouring down upon him his most
scorching rays. The waters of the Juniata
were as placid as when he embarked that
morning, so full of hope and whiskey, to
lure the little fishes from their watery home.
His first impulse after awakening, was to
reach for his bottle of five sings and as
he reached he cast his eyes to the spot
where he had moored his boat from the
storm. But oh, what look of horror and
| despair encircled that classic brow, when he
saw that his boat was missing-his only
| hope of safety torn from him. With his
bottle in one hand and hat in the other he
marches to and fro over the island, hurting
| imprecations dire on the malicious fiend
that had stolen his bonny boat Would
he succumb to his fate I? No, while there
is life there is hope, SO Benhamed conclu-
ded to drown sorrow by draught from 'de
bottle dat's black, dat lay massa blue devil
fiat on his back But here the unkind.
est cut of ALL not drop of boomerang
remained in that bottle. What mortal
could stand the blow. But, methinks, we
hear you say, cheer up Benhamed there
is clear running river flowing at your
feet Heavens draught that never slaught-
ers) drink and let your soul revive No,
my friends, you are mistaken in your man.
Benhamed's internal improvements had
not known for many years the blessings
of cold water it would do we'll enough in
his estimation, for navigation and 'sich
like but as beverage he did not approve
of it. 1t would astonish his stomach !
Well, Benhamed did give up and sat him
self down again to reflect over his misspent