FIGHTING FATE.

Patea Mail, Volume IV, Issue 312, 13 April 1878, Page 4

FIGHTING FATE.

A hoy about thirteen years old was Saturday forenoon dragging a big, Bneakish-looking cur along High, street ■feo find an owner for the canine. Ringing a door-bell he said to the housemaid who answered it: 4 I’ve brought your dog home.’ ‘My dog I’ she exclaimed as she looked dowr upon the embarrassed dog. ‘ Yes, gimme two shilling and I’ll tie him up in the back yard,’ ‘ I’ll give you a broom-sticking if you don’t leave 1’ she screamed as she grabbed for him. He dragged the dog across the street to where a girl was scrubbing the front steps, and bringing a srailejto his face lie said: ‘Your feller in Chicago sent’Jyou this dorg by express to put in your Christmas stocking. The charges are fifty cents. Where shallT tiejum upjj?’ 4 Get out with ye-—l’m no greenhorn ! she said as she raised the brush to Vt him. The boy pulled on the rope with both hands and got the reluctant dog half a block further, when he met a boy currying home ten pounds of buckwheat flour. He blocked lire way and said; 4 Bub, yer father told me to bring' this dorg up to you and collect thirty cents.’ 4 1 hain’t got no father, the lad. 4 Who said you had—l was only fooling. Say bub, this ’ere is the beautifuliest dorg you over set eyes on. He kin sing, dance, clean off the snow from the walk and bring in rabbits from the country. I’ll take a , quarter for him.’ 4 1 hain’t got no money,’ replied tbe boy. 4 I’ll trade him for a knife.’ 4 1 haiu’t got no knife.’ * 4 Any old skates ?’ * No,’ answered the youth with the flour, as he dodged around the dog and hurried on. The other looked down on the canine with mingled sadness and indignation. The dog braced back at an acute angle, his eyes shut and his tail lying on the walk, waiting for the boy to say : 4 O-h-h I if I knew how to swear how I’d blast ye 1 I kept you hid away for a week, and I’ve hauled you all over the town, and you hain’t even a three cent dog ! I’vs fit fate for more’n a Mouth to get some chink for Christmas, and iv-re I am, dead-broke, and no assets but you, you old sole-leather coloured skulk i I’ve got desperate, and I’m . going to shed your blood !’ He slackened on the rope to administer a kick, and the dog made a jump and gained his liberty. He ran off around the corner, and the boy leaned against a tree-box and mused ; ■ 4 There’s only one plan left. I’ll take paregoric enough to make me sleep from Monday-.night'to Wednesday morning, ami I won’t know nuthin’ ’bout Christmas nor nuthin’ I’