Year: 1875

Hill Beachy. whose death we noticed

 last week, in his genial makeup was one

 of the best practical jokers we ever knew, and unlike most of that kind, he could re- ceive a good joke made at his expense with as good grace as he could practice one upOn another. He paid a visit to his

 sister after an absence of sixteen years;

 he had changed from beardless boy to a

 bald headed man, and she did not know

 him. He introduced himself as bosom

 friend of Hill, and of course his sister did

 not know him. He told her that Hill

 wanted him to make himself at home and

 he intended to do so, and commenced at

 once to prospect the premises. He went

 into the pantry, dove into the preserves,

 ransacked every thing and came into the

 parlor again with a large piece of pie ia

 each hand and proceeded to devour it as

 ravenOusly as d wolf; he visited the bed

 room and criticised her clothing, and be-

 came generally so annoying that his sis

 ter gently reminded him that perhaps he

 was making himself a little too free, but

 he assured her that it was the way they

 did things out west and that Hill would be

 very angry if he did not make .imself at

 home. He tried to borrow money from

 her husband which was promptly refused,

 to his great disgust. He did not make

 himself known until some time afterward

 when he called again on his way from

 Washington to California.

 A number of years ago he owned stage

 line running from California to Idaho, and upon one occasion he came over the road with friend who determined to pay

 him off for some Of the jokes he had play, ed on him. The roads were very bad and frequently the passengers walked ahead into the stage stations in advance. His friend in this manner reached a station

 before Beachey, and found 1t kept by a rough but very attentive man. who had never seen Beachey, but who was his great admirer and intensely anxious to advance AlS interests faithfully and well. The friend told him that the stage would soon arrive and that there was d Uummer on board that he must look out for; hat he was liable to pick up little things, aud although he never paid BGachey a cent Oi stage fare. that he forced himself into the best seat on the coach and when they got into mud hole he was the last main to tighten the load, ana was Ill the habit Oi going into the stables and handling things as though he owned the whole line. The station keeper promised that he would give him d taste when the stage arrived that he would not soon forget. Ii Hill Beachey was too good natured to keep such fellows rom bunlming off him, then he was just the boy to do it for him. About this time the stage rolled up, the passengers got out and Beachey went tor the stable as usual. The friend winked to the station keeper, as much as to say, that is the man. Hill only had time 10 pass the threshold when the station keeper grabbed him by the coat collar and sent him whirling into the road. Beachey, very much surprised, inquired what was the | m alter, when the keeper who stood over | him with his maulerS ready for instant 1 use, responded. "Oh, you old galiOOt! | have heard of you, you may be able to inn | pose upon Hill Beachey but you can't fool | me-" Beachey saw the joke and not de- 1 siring to spoil it, meekly submitted. The | change of horses was made and all was | ready for a start and Hill took a seat with the driver, the inside was well crowded | and the friend had not yet got a seat, The keeper seeing the situation, jerked Beach ey from his seat and put him on the boot and told him that was too good place for bummers to ride on. Some time after wards the station keeper found out how he had been imposed upon, and he swore ne would shoot Reachey'S friend on sight f he ever met him again.