DEAD BEATS.

Poverty Bay Standard, Volume X, Issue 1047, 11 March 1882, Page 4

DEAD BEATS.

Perhaps of all places in the world in which one can hear the most improbable stories—the funniest yarns, or most stupendous lies, is a country store—one of those stores in which a purchaser can get anything he desires, from a lady’s cambric handkerchief up to a ship’s anchor. Captain a genial soul, kept a store of this kind in Gainsville, Miss., and it is unnecessary to say that the captain, being a ; popular man never lackedfor company. One cold, freezing evening last winter, the usual group had seated themselves in close proximity to the stove for the double purpose of exchanging lies and warming themselves. “ Boys,” said an old bummer who answered to the name of Spinks, “did I ever tell ye ’bout Bill Davis’s wish?” “Why no.” “Whatwasit?” “Let’s have it.” “ Spit it out old man, you have the floor.” These and like elegant remarks were the answers chorussed back. “ "Well, you see boys,” commenced Spinks, rolling his tobacco from one side of his mouth to the other, and spitting a stream under the stove that threatened to create a tidal wave, “ it was in sixty when folks had the California fever bad. Me an’ Bill was a siltin' on the wharf in New Orleans an’ er wishing we had the spondulix to pay our way to Californy. Arter a while Bill and me got ter telliu’ each other how much we would like to have. Sez Bill to me, ‘ Now, Spinks, how much of er pile would you like?’ Arter studyin’ er while sez 1 to Bill, ‘ Bill, I wish I had a a seventy-four gun frigate loaded so deep with needles that one needle more would sink her, an’ that them needles could all be worn out er making bags to hold my money.’ Sez Bill, * that’s some money, but taint er patchin to my pile! Now, I wish I had so much thatyourn couldn’t pay the interest on mine for the time you could hold a red hot knitting needle in your ear."’ For a moment after Spinks concluded there was a deep silence which was ■broken by an old veteran in the use of bad tobacco and poor whisky, who exclaimed, “ What an infernal no such 1 •Kin any one lay over that yarn ?” he continued looking around for an answer. “ Ef they kin,” retorted Spinks, “ I’ll pay for the liquor.” “All right 1” came a voice from the ■other side of the store. “ Cap., jes’ tell the boys ’bout that yarn of yourn; how the sailor beat the devil 1” Captain being in an accommodating mood, and nothing in particular just then requiring His attention, consented. “ Once upon a time,” he commenced, there were three men —a tailor, a •carpenter, and a sailor—all very poor. They met together to bewail their poverty and to pour into the ear of each other their complaints. One evening, just* about dusk, after they had met at the usual place, the devil appeared to them and offered to serve them in everything and perform all tasks they set him, provided they would sign a compact giving him their souls -at the end of twenty years. It is needless to say that the eagerly consented to the conditions he imposed. It is needless to say that they eagerly consented to the conditions he imposed. It being agreed, however, that in case they set him a task which he failed to form, the compact would be null and void and of no effect. “ The fear of poverty now being no •longer before them, and commanding instead, through the agency of his Satanic majesty, boundless wealth, our three friends separated, each to follow' out the bent of their several inclinations. The tailor was soon in possession of the largest clothing establishment and in the most fashionable localities, while Midas-like, everything he touched turned to gold. The carpenter, in his turn, was soon at the head of the largest dock-yards, and the number, size, and beauty of the various vessels which left his yard, together with the remarkable workmanship bestowed upon them, was the theme of all tongues. Meanwhile, our friend the sailor. What of him ? Certainly no vast schemes of self-aggrand-isement or personal grandeur ever troubled his simple mind. Plenty of grog, a pretty wife in every port, a good ship, and line weather, together with an occasional spree, rendered Satan’s task, as far as he was concerned .almost a sinecure. At length, however, the twenty years rolled around and •Satan promptly came to claim the fulfilment of the bargain. In vain did the tailor, as the fatal moment drew near, set him the must difficult task to perform. “ Time’s up 1” said Satan. “ Are you ready ?” “Two minutes yet arc lacking,” pleaded the tailor, “ and have one more task for you to perform.” “ Name it then, and be quick about it,” was the answer. Thereupon the tailor commanded his Satanic majesty to gather up every shred, fragment, and scrap of cloth that he had used during his career as a tailor, and restore it Lack again into the cloth into which it had been cut, and cause the whole to appear before him. No sooner said than the task was accomplished, and the soul of the tailor was in Satan’s clutches. The carpenter is the next object of the devil’s care. True to the terms of the compact, he makes his appearance before the carpenter and makes a similar demand to that made upon the tailor. Like him he pleads for the

few minutes yet belonging to him. As a last despairing effort the carpenter also claims the performance of one more task. Satan assents. He is then commanded by his prospective victim to produce in an instant before him every chip, every splinter, and every piece of wood, together with all the tools with which he had eut, carved, and hewed during his life. Satan smiles at the task —-to him so easy of execution. An instant more and the soul of the wretched carpenter is added to that numberless throng who are ever falling into the meshes of the nets which the devil so skilfully spreads for the unwary. His Satanic majesty next repairs to our friend, the sailor. “Shiver my timbers'” says Jack. “What do you want?” “ Your soulresponds the devil. “My soul. Time’s not up yet, you old grampus !” retorts Jack. “ Only lacks two minutes,” says the devil. “ Here,” says Jack, “I’ve another job for you,” and with that he pulls a couple of hairs from his head, and continuing, “ Pat a long splice in these with a red-hot marlin-spikel” Satan glared at the sailor for a moment, furious with rage and disappointment, then dealing him a venomous kick, his Satanic majesty vanished from sight. After the captain had finished his yarn there was a long silence. At length it was brought to an end by Spinks, who, rising, said —■ “ Boys, I’ll treat ; for I love a liar, an’ of all outrageous, infernal lies this lays over anything I’ve ever hearn. Let’s licker 1” They lickered.— Danbury News.