with him. When the great and terrible war came on between the two countries lying on opposite sides of the Beautiful River, this strange infatuation became tinged with patriotism. He pondered the matter so much that, like a certain famous knight, his reason became partially unsettled, and then it was his disordered brain conceived the daring and brilliant project of bringing the enemies of his country to utter and ignominious defeat and irretrievable ruin, by compelling them to swap all their horses. He would ride through all the length and breadth of the land with a numerous following, force everybody to swap horses with him, and so ride all hostile horseflesh into a state of exhaustion and heaves, and terminate the war. Whether it ever occurred to him or not, this would have effected a great saving of human lives, and was therefore a plan which should have commended itself to all humane souls.

Jim Crow was a man of exceeding fierce and unconstitutional aspect. He was dressed throughout in gray, and his coat had a tail treasonably long, because the fashion of his country's enemies was short. In his belt he had four pistols and seven knives. His eyes were gray, like his clothes. It is said that he whetted his knives every morning, and then took his eyesight out and whittled it, by which means he made it so very sharp and fierce that, when he looked at one of his country's enemies, with both eyes at once, they made a hole quite through his head. His black moustache was so long that he could lap it around his head and bring the ends together in front. On the narrow, upright collar of his coat he had golden stars, which symbolized the loftiness of his character, though others affirmed that they denoted the phenomena which appeared to the eyes of his enemies in battle.

And now, his dreadful and fearful host had crossed the Beautiful River, traversed the Hoosier State, and a good

part of the Buckeye State, and was now hastening down the hollow of Congress Run. Just as Halford Pinbury had taken a draught of mustard cider, and covered the oaken firkin with hay, the tremendous and multitudinous thundering of their hoofs was heard, and a great cloud of dust ascended above the sugar-trees. In a few minutes more they emerged in sight, and then what an appalling spectacle petrified his vision!

Horned horses, horses with brazen hoofs and eyes of fire, headless horsemen, some with their heads tied on behind their saddles, two-legged horses, which advanced only by a kind of kangaroo jumps. The better to accomplish the diabolical purposes herein before set forth, many of them caused their horses to go forward, not in the usual manner, but by a continuous series of somersaults, by which violent motions many of the poor beasts had jerked off their ears, and looked very hideous. Many of the riders were young, and often fell asleep, when they would be jounced violently off upon the ground; but they would run and clamber on again. Most of them had bales of calico and strings of shoes flung over their horses' backs. Jim Crow rode in fierce and terrific splendor at the head of the cavalcade, and his horse had a horn of brass on his forehead, and his eyes were of a peculiar, traitorous color, and from his nostrils there issued smoke of sulphur and other disloyal substances.

For a moment, Halford Pinbury stood and gazed in speechless amazement; then he simply ejaculated, "Well, now, by hokey!" and dived down hill at the top of his speed, to save his fat, old, sorrel horse, which stood hitched to a little locust. Snatching the halter loose, he leaped upon his back; but the infatuated animal, whinnying frantically, ran with all his might to join the dreadful cavalcade. Finding himself, despite his most desperate

efforts, about to be carried, irresistibly, into the fatal and direful host, Halford Pinbury dismounted in hot haste, abandoning the beast to his miserable fate, and fled up hill to his firkin of mustard cider, where, seeing he was not pursued, he stopped.

Leave we this dreadful procession, for a moment, to note the assembling of the Home Guards at the little frame schoolhouse in the valley. Roused by the last solemn warning of Daddy Childs, they had hastened to this place of rendezvous, with their arms and accoutrements. Stout little Mr. Boonder, with the far-looking gray eyes, and his fatherly, thoughtful ways, was there to assist in "making arrangements." His voice was always heard by the neighbors in times of peril. Little Farmer Pinbury, with his smooth-shaven face, and his soft, pleasant eyes, was there in a brown study. He was walking to and fro, whistling under his breath, with his hands behind him under his coat-tails. Stout-hearted old Colonel Dobley had also hobbled there, to show the young men how to fight. There, too, was the stately, but languid, Miss Jemima Boonder, with the pleading eyes and the ripe, pouting lips; and Miss Jerusha Pinbury, with the earnest, pretty, brown eyes, and the tight little mouth, like an elongated knot-hole.

While the inspection and loading of arms were in progress, Mr. Boonder "made arrangements" with redbearded Captain Dobley about a supply of gunpowder, then passed along the line, speaking a fatherly word to each, and showing the awkward how to load their rifles more quickly. Presently, Farmer Pinbury stopped whistling under his breath, and began quietly to build rail-pens for barricades. Colonel Dobley stationed himself at the end of the line, straightened himself vigorously up on his sound leg, sighted along the line, motioned with his

crutch toward the middle, and commanded, in stentorian tones,

"Dress up in the middle there!"

Captain Dobley then stepped forward, and, with a terrific and portentous sternness on his brow, which was peculiarly militia-like, commanded,—

"Dress up,-company!"

Upon this, the grand old veteran colonel scowled, struck his crutch hard upon the ground, and said, very loudly,

"What sense is there in talking so loud!"

Meantime Mr. Boonder and Farmer Pinbury had consulted together as to the height the rail-pens should have; then Mr. Boonder and the captain consulted about the probability of any of the squirrel-guns bursting; then Mr. Boonder "made arrangements" to have the brave boys supplied with the necessary nutriment.

"Colonel Dobley," said Mr. Boonder, "did you hide your horse in the smoke-house or the cornfield ?"

"I tumbled him over the bank of the river," replied the colonel, twitching a soldier into line.

Miss Jemima Boonder had, however, in the mean time, acting upon her own sweet and patriotic will, brought a generous supply of blackberry turnovers, which she was distributing along the line, while Miss Jerusha Pinbury, not to be behind, was cheering the defenders of their country with fresh, cool well-water. As these two dear creatures moved along they dropped several tears. When the boys had eaten the blackberry turnovers and drunk the well-water, they felt nourished, and waxed patriotic and fierce exceedingly. They gave three cheers, and loaded their shot-guns double.

And now, when the dreadful procession ascended the meadow-hill and beheld the noble valley spread out before them, what a spectacle awaited them! Horses' tails

sticking out of hen-houses, horses' ears sticking out of haycocks, horses whinnying down-cellar, where they were complacently munching the last shriveled remnant of last year's apples. The children ran into the house, crowded under the bed, and plugged up their ears with their fingers. The hired girl hurried up-stairs and went to bed, covering her head with the clothes. Rosy-cheeked little Mrs. Pinbury seated herself in her rocking-chair, and pulled out her hair-pins, so that, when the dreadful noise began, she might faint without doing herself bodily injury. The cat popped into the hole. The old Shanghai cock set off at the head of his harem, but knocked his knees together, and plumped head foremost into the puddle. Then the direful procession swept along, and all the horses, summoned by the irresistible fascination of the great leader's voice, issued from concealment, and joyfully hastened to swell the calvacade.

Long before they approached the little frame schoolhouse, the Home Guards discharged their pieces into the atmosphere, at an angle of about forty-five degrees, and effected a masterly retreat, "to draw the enemy on to destruction." None were left behind but the three old unarmed citizens and their two brave daughters. After looking for a few moments at their fleeing defenders, Mr. Boonder remarked,

"I think, perhaps, Colonel Dobley, we had better make some arrangements to run.'

Farmer Pinbury pointed toward one of his strawstacks, and said, quietly,

"We might find a refuge there; but if they shot at us, I fear they might fire the stack, and then my cattle would have no shelter next winter.

But stout-hearted old Colonel Dobley scowled till his face looked terrible, struck his crutch fiercely on the ground, and said,——