MR. STIVER'S HORSE. BY JAMES M. BAILEY. The other morning at breakfast, Mrs. Perkins observed that Mr. Stiver, in whose house we live, had been called away, and wanted to know if I would see to his horse through the day. I knew that Mr. Stiver owned a horse, because I occasionally saw him drive out of the yard, and I saw the stable every day; but what kind of a horse I didn't know. I never went into the stable for two reasons: in the first place, I had no desire to; and, secondly, I didn't know as the horse particularly cared for company. I never took care of a horse in my life, and had I been of a less hopeful nature, the charge Mr. Stiver had left with me might have had a very depressing effect; but I told Mrs. Perkins I would do it. "You know how to take care of a horse, don't you?" said she. I gave her a reassuring wink. In fact I knew so little about it that I didn't think it safe to converse more fluently than by winks. After breakfast I seized a toothpick and walked out toward the stable. There was nothing particular to do, as Stiver had given him his breakfast, and I found him eating it; so I looked around. The horse looked around, too, and stared pretty hard at me. There was but little said on either side. I hunted up the location of the feed, and then sat down on a peck measure, and fell to studying the beast. There is a wide difference in horses. Some of them will kick you over and never look around to see what becomes of you. I don't like a disposition like that, and I wondered if Stiver's horse was one of them. When I came home at noon I went straight to the stable. The animal was there all right. Stiver hadn't told me what to give him for dinner, and I had not given the subject any thought; but I went to the oat box and filled the peck measure, and sallied up to the manger. When he saw the oats he almost smiled; this pleased and amused him. I emptied them into the trough, and left him above me to admire the way I parted my hair behind. I just got my head up in time to save the whole of it. He had his ears back, his mouth open, and looked as if he were on the point of committing murder. I went out and filled the measure again, and climbed up the side of the stall and emptied it on top of him. He brought his head up so suddenly at this that I immediately got down, letting go of everything to do it. I struck on the sharp edge of a barrel, rolled over a couple of times, and then disappeared under a hay-cutter. The peck measure went down on the other side, and got mysteriously tangled up in that animal's heels, and he went to work at it, and then ensued the most dreadful noise I ever heard in all my life, and I have been married eighteen years. It did seem as if I never would get out from under that hay-cutter; and all the while I was struggling and wrenching myself and the cutter apart, that awful beast was kicking around in the stall, and making the most appalling sound imaginable. When I got out I found Mrs. Perkins at the door. She had heard the racket, and had sped out to the stable, her only thought being of me and three stove lids which she had under her arm, and one of which she was about to fire at the beast. This made me mad. "Go away, you unfortunate idiot," I shouted; "do you want to knock my brains out?" For I remembered seeing Mrs. Perkins sling a missile once before, and that I nearly lost an eye by the operation, although standing on the other side of the house at the time. She retired at once. And at the same time the animal quieted down, but there was nothing left of that peck measure, not even the maker's name. I followed Mrs. Perkins into the house, and had her do me up, and then I sat down in a chair, and fell into a profound strain of meditation. After a while I felt better, and went out to the stable again. The horse was leaning against the stable stall, with eyes half closed, and appeared to be very much engrossed in thought. "Step off to the left," I said, rubbing his back. He didn't step. I got the pitchfork and punched him in the leg with the handle. He immediately raised up both hind legs at once, and that fork flew out of my hands, and went rattling up against the timbers above, and came down again in an instant, the end of the handle rapping me with such force on the top of the head that I sat right down on the floor under the impression that I was standing in front of a drug store in the evening. I went back to the house and got some more stuff on me. But I couldn't keep away from that stable. I went out there again. The thought struck me that what the horse wanted was exercise. If that thought had been an empty glycerine can, it would have saved a windfall of luck for me. age as when he is coming down on you like a frantic pile driver. I instantly dodged, and the cold sweat fairly boiled out of me. It suddenly came over me that I had once figured in a similar position years ago. My grandfather owned a little white horse that would get up from a meal at Delmonico's to kick the President of the United States. He sent me to the lot one day, and unhappily suggested that I But exercise would tone him down, often went after that horse, and suffered and exercise him I should. I laughed to all kinds of defeat in getting him out of myself to think how I would trounce him the pasture, but I had never tried to ride around the yard. I didn't laugh again him. Heaven knows I never thought of that afternoon. I got him unhitched, and it. I had my usual trouble with him then wondered how I was to get him out that day. He tried to jump over me, of the stall without carrying him out. I and push me down in a mud hole, pushed, but he wouldn't budge. I stood looking at him in the face, thinking of something to say, when he suddenly solved the difficulty by veering about and plunging for the door. I followed, as a matter of course, because I had a tight hold on the rope, and hit about every partition stud worth speaking of on that side of the barn. Mrs. Perkins was at the window and saw us come out of the door. She subsequently remarked that we came out skipping like two innocent children. The skipping was entirely unintentional on my part. I felt as if I stood on the verge of eternity. My legs inay have skipped, but my mind was filled with awe. I took that animal out to exercise him. He exercised me before I got through with it. He went around a few times in a circle; then he stopped suddenly, spread out his fore legs and looked at me. Then he leaned forward a little, and hoisted both hind legs, and threw about two coal hods of mud over a line full of clothes Mrs. Perkins had just hung out. That excellent lady had taken a position at the window, and whenever the evolutions of the awful beast permitted I caught a glance at her features. She appeared to be very much interested in the proceedings; but the instant that the mud flew, she disappeared from the window, and a moment later she appeared on the stoop with a long poker in her hand, and fire enough in her eye to heat it red hot. Just then Stiver's horse stood up on his hind legs and tried to hug me with the others. This scared me. A horse never shows his strength to such advant and finally got up on his hind legs and came waltzing after me with facilities enough to convert me into hash, but I turned and just made for that fence with all the agony a prospect of instant death could crowd into me. If our candidate for the Presidency had run one-half as well, there would be seventy-five postmasters in Danbury to-day, instead of one. I got him out finally, and then he was quiet enough, and took him up alongside the fence and got on him. He stopped an instant, one brief instant, and then tore off down the road at a frightful speed. I laid down on him and clasped my hands tightly around his neck, and thought of my home. When we got to the stable I was confident he would stop, but he didn't. He drove straight at the door. It was a low door, just high enough to permit him to go in at lightning speed, but there was no room for me. I saw if I struck that stable the struggle would be a brief one. I thought this all over in an instant, and then spreading out my arms and legs, emitted a scream, and the next moment I was bounding about in the filth of that stable yard. All this passed through my mind as Stiver's horse went up into the air. It frightened Mrs. Perkins dreadfully. "Why, you old fool!" she said; "why don't you get rid of him?" "How can I?" said I, in desperation. 'Why, there are a thousand ways," said she. This is just like a woman. How different a statesman would have answered. But I could think of only two ways to dispose of the beast: I could either swal low him where he stood and then sit down on him, or I could crawl inside of him and kick him to death. But I was saved either of these expedients by his coming toward me so abruptly that I dropped the rope in terror, and then he turned about, and, kicking me full of mud, shot for the gate, ripping the clothes line in two, and went on down the street at a horrible gallop, with two of Mrs. Perkins's garments, which he hastily snatched from the line, floating over his neck in a very picturesque manner. So I was afterwards told. I was too full of mud myself to see the way into the house. Stiver got his horse all right, and stays at home to take care of him. Mrs. Perkins has gone to her mother's to recuperate, and I am healing as fast as possible. DANBURY NEWS MAN. DANIEL O'CONNELL AND BIDDY man Mr. Madden tells the following:-When Daniel O'Connell was yet a very young man his talent for vituperative language was so great that he was deemed matchless as a scold. There lived in Dublin a certain woman, Biddy Moriarty by name, who kept a huckster's stall on one of the quays nearly opposite the Four Courts. She was a first-class virago-formidable with both fist and tongue-so that her voluble imputation had become almost proverbial in the country roundabout. Some of O'Connell's friends thought that he could defeat her with her own weapons, while others ridiculed the idea. The Kerry barrister could not stand this, so he backed himself for a match. Bets were offered, and taken, and it was decided that the matter should be settled at once. So proceeding to the huckster's stall with a few friends, O'Connell commenced the attack on the old lady: "What is the price of this walkingstick, Mrs. What's-your-name?" "Moriarty, sir, is my name, and a good one it is; and what have you to say agin it? and one-and-sixpence's the price of the stick. Troth it's cheap as dirt, so it is." "One-and-sixpence for a walking-stick; whew! Why, you are no better than an "Jintleman! jintleman! the likes of you a jintleman! Wisha, by gor, that bangs Banager. Why, you potato-faced pippinsneezer, when did a Madagascar monkey like you pick enough of common Christian decency to hide your Kerry brogue?" Easy now-easy now," cried O'Connell, with imperturbable good humor; "don't choke yourself with fine language, you old whisky-drinking parallelogram." "What's that you call me, you murderin' villain?" roared Mrs. Moriarty, stung into fury. a "I call you," answered O'Connell, parallelogram; and a Dublin Judge and jury will say that it's no libel to call you so." "Oh, tare-an-ouns! oh, holy Biddy! that an honest woman like me should be called a parrybellygrum to her face. I'm none of your parrybellygrums, you rascally gallows bird; you cowardly, sneaking, plate-lickin' bliggard!" "Oh, not you, indeed!" retorted O'Connell; "why I suppose you'll deny that you keep a hypothenuse in your house." "It's a lie for you, you by robber; I never had such a thing in my house, you swindling thief." "Why, sure all of your neighbors know very well that you keep not only a hypothenuse, but that you have two diameters locked up in your garret, and that you go out to walk with them every Sunday, you heartless old heptagon." "Oh, hear that, ye saints in glory! Oh, there's bad language from a fellow that wants to pass for a jintleman. May the divil fly away with you, you wicher from Munster, and make celery-sauce of your rotten limbs, you mealy-mouthed tub of guts." 66 Ah, you can't deny the charge, you miserable sub-multiple of a duplicate ratio." "Go rinse your mouth in the Liffey, you nasty ticklepitcher; after all the bad words you speak it ought to be filthier than your face, you dirty chicken of Beelzebub." "Rinse your own mouth, you wickedminded polygon-to the deuce I pitch you, you blustering intersection of a st-ng superficies!" "You saucy tinker's apprentice, if you don't cease your jaw I'll"- But here she gasped for breath, unable to hawk up any more words, for the last volley of O'Connell had nearly knocked the wind out of her. "While I have a tongue I'll abuse you, you most inimitable periphery. Look at her, boys! there she stands-a convicted perpendicular in petticoats! There's contamination in her circumference and she trembles with guilt down to the extremities of her corollaries. Ah! you're found out, you rectilinear-antecedent and equiangular old hag! 'Tis with you the devil will fly away, you porter-swiping similitude of the bisection of a vorter! Overwhelmed with this torrent of language, Mrs. Moriarty was silenced. Catching up a saucepan, she was aiming at O'Connell's head when he very prudently made a timely retreat. "You have won the wager, O'Connell, here's your bet," cried the gentleman who had proposed the contest. From Madden's Revelations of Ireland. ORTHODOX FORGIVENESS. A New England deacon called upon a brother deacon with whom he was at variance, and with an air of great solemnity said: "Brother Jones, it is a shame that this quarrel of ours should bring scandal upon the church. I have prayed earnestly for guidance in the matter, and I have come to the conclusion that you must give in, for I cannot." WHEN EVARTS UNBENDS. WIT AND HUMOR OF THE NEW YORK SENATOR. The election of William M. Evarts to the United States Senate has been followed by many tributes to him based upon different phases of his long and distinguished career. His leadership of the American bar has been dwelt upon. The number of celebrated cases in which he has figured has been recounted. Attention has been called to his services to the country as Attorney-General and Secretary of State. The full measure of his devotion to the Republican party has been portrayed. But there remains another and most agreeable point of view from which to observe the new Senator. The biographer of Thaddeus Stevens tells us that his hero possessed in a remarkable degree that fond gaillard—that basis of gayety-which Carlyle attributed to Mirabeau. The remark is singularly applicable to Mr. Evarts. The gleaming thread of gayety runs through the warp and woof of his life. No one enjoys a good story more than he, even as no one tells a better one. One of his professional brothers of the metropolis who thoroughly appreciates Mr. Evarts' gifts of wit and humor, says: "I am not sure but his choicest mot was uttered at a dinner which was given several years ago in this city to Thomas Bayley Potter, a member of the English House of Commons. The Rev. Henry Potter was the host, while among the guests were a number of other well-known members of the Potter family. When it came Mr. Evarts' turn formally to speak he began about in this way: When I remember that we are being entertained by the Rev. Henry-Potter; that we were invited to meet Sir Thomas Bayley-Potter; when I observe at my right Clarkson N.-Potter, and at my left the Rev. Eliphalet Nott-Potter, I am reminded of the young country clergyman who was unexpectedly summoned to supply a city pulpit. The church was so imposing and the congregation so fashionable that when he arose to make the opening invocation he found himself a good deal flustrated. The result was that to the consternation of his hearers he led off with the petition: O Lord, help us never to forget that Thou art the clay and that we are the potters." " What is low raise and support. One morning the elevator which car-citizens for their obedience to Milton's ried him up to his office in the State De- admonition : partment contained an unusual number of strangers, presumably applicants for Ministerships or Consulships. Turning to a friend who accompanied him, Mr. Evarts whispered: 66 "This is the largest collection for foreign missions that I've seen taken up for some time." A gentleman who listened to Mr. Evarts argue a case before the Court of Appeals a few years ago, in recalling the circumstance, observed: "It takes a good deal to make that dignified Court of last resort indulge in a smile, but Mr. Evarts did it. He was pitted against some great corporation, and in order to illustrate the quality of its magnanimity he said: 'Why, if the Court please, when I think of the attitude taken by this road I am reminded of the anecdote of the Irish bailiff who wrote to the proprietor of the estate, who was traveling on the Continent: "The tenantry are behaving very badly, and have gone so far as to threaten to shoot me in case the rents are not reduced." And in answer to the bailiff the landlord promptly wrote: "Tell the tenants that the rents will not be reduced, and impress it upon them that no threats which they may make to shoot you will have the slightest influence upon me." I believe the story is an old one, but it became new in Mr. Evarts' hands. He told it with irresistible effect." Another story illustrating the great lawyer's quickness is a favorite in circles of "applied finance." Not long since he stood with a party of friends on the soil of Virginia near the famous Natural Bridge. There was a legend that once on a time George Washington threw a silver dollar from the stream to the surface of the Bridge. It is a big throw, so big in fact that some of the tourists were inclined to disbelieve the legend. Mr. Evarts being appealed to for his opinion, instantly replied, as he measured the distance with a twinkling eye: "Well, we must not forget that a dollar went a good deal further in Washington's day than it does now." In 1882 Mr. Evarts was a guest of Brooklyn's sons of New England at their annual dinner, and made a brilliant speech. In the course of his remarks he slyly complimented the Mayor of that city by commending the Mayor's fellow At another New England dinner, referring to the assertion that in the cabin of the Mayflower was composed the first written Constitution of a political State, Mr. Evarts set the table in a roar by this comment: "Now it is my duty to say in the truth of history that that first meeting had something at least of the notion of a packed convention, for nobody was allowed to go ashore until he had signed the Constitution." THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S EXPERIMENT. In a ground-floor room in one of the large public buildings in London, a man sat writing at a table covered with papers. He was a short, strongly-built figure with a prominent nose, and a face hard and massive as a granite statue, wearing the set look peculiar to men who have surmounted great difficulties and confronted great perils. Few, indeed, had had more practice in both than this man, for he was no other than the Duke of Wellington, and his crowning victory at Waterloo was still but a few years old. There was the tinkle of a bell outside, and then a murmur of voices in the anteroom; but the Duke never raised his head from his writing, even when his secretary entered and said: "If it please your Grace, the man with the bullet-proof breast-plate has called again, and wishes very much to see your Grace for a moment." The Duke's face darkened, as well it might, for the man in question was the most pertinacious bore whom he had ever encountered. The bullet-proof cuirass was his own invention, and he never lost a chance of declaring that the safety of the whole British army depended upon the instant adoption of this unparalleled discovery," which he carried about with him, and exhibited at all times and in all places. Had this been all, he would soon have been disposed of; but, unluckily, he had contrived to interest in his invention one or two of the Duke's personal |