Democratic Sentinel, Volume 12, Number 46, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 December 1888 — CEKE'S NAD ZI[?] [ARTICLE]

CEKE'S NAD ZI[?]

■aw a Bay Triad la Cwat tka Bataa Is Ba Maa* ar * rrighteaed Barer* [From th* Philadelphia Time*.] Zeke was thought to be the dunce at the family. He wasn’t dull eaaeti*, but because of his quiet ways and his lo vs of sleep he got to be known as the most backward of the bright Bumwell boys. Beks was so lazy that he couldn’t count, though twelve rears of age. When, along snout noon, his father would say: “ Run, Zeke, and tell me what time it is.” Zeke would look at the clock and remark: “ Little hand’s a stickin’ straight up I” One day Jerry, the black man, made fun rs Zeke, saying,- “G’lang wid ye, ye io’an know yer foot froni a hole in de jround; g’way from heah en lam to wrzmt up yer A B O’s.” What Jerry said made the lad feel ashamed. That night he covered his head with a quilt, and •aid to himself that he wished a bugaboo would catch him by the toesand take him io the bad place. As he was feeding the horses next morning he asked his friend Joe, the how he could learn to count /be laughed and winked at a big horse attnsd Bob. “Why, you pester you, wnj don’t you get up onto Bob’s back mb count them air hairs in his mane ?” rest made Zeke’s blood feel hot in his ?aoe. “AH right,” he said, and bounding from tke hay-mow he lighted upon Bob’s back. Bob was taken by surprise. He wasn’t in the habit of having boys, on his back at breakfast, so he started on t wild run. If Zeke couldn’t count he could ride a horse as a swallow rides the air. Away went Bob out the lane and up the sountry road. Zeke grasped a handful of the mane and began to pick out tha black threads.

“ Oqe, two, three, four, five—” but jpst as he was about to say six a violent jerk of the horse’s head drew the mane from his hand. Nothing daunted, however, the boy began again. Bob was running vp the road at full speed. “Hal ha I” hallooed a man by the roadside, “ what are you doin’ ?” ' “ Countin’ hairs,” said Zeke. “ What a Attic fool!” exclaimed the man; f ‘ he might as well try to number the hairs of sly head, but before he could get through with ms job every hair would be griy.” But the daehkig horse and his bold rider were out of hearing and out of sight. They went steadily on for nearly an hour. Zeke had counted a thousand and Bob’s run had dropped into a swift troi.

“Holdon,” said a, gentleman whom they met on the bridge; “where an you going to without saddle or bridle ?” “Counting the hairs of the horse’s mane,” replied Zeke, never looking up. “ Why don’t you count the hairs of his tail ?” roared the gentleman, with much merriment; but on sped Bob with Zeke bending closely over his neck. Soon afterward the frightened horse flame to the Schuylkill River. Into the water he trotted, and soon he was swimming for the other shore. This Zeke had not expected. The shock of the cold water caused him to forget his count, and he was obliged to cling to the mane to save his life. “ Anyhow,” Zeke said, -T find the mane of some use.” When Bob reached the other bank he kept on as madly as before, but seeing that his rider was more than a match for him, he at last stopped short and began to turn the head toward Zeke. Meanwhile Zeke had given over his attempt to count the hairs of the mane. What he was thinking about was how he could procure a bridlu His hands still grasped the hairs, which felt so smooth and strong that the lad decided to try and make a bridle out di them. Wibh his jackknife he succeeded in cutting off several strands, which he tied and twisted together in a clumsy fashion. A stick of crooked oak, whittled smoothly, served as a bit. Zeke looked with pride upon his odd pieces of harness, and he was delighted when Bob, responding to a pull of the rein, trotted off homeward. That night Zeke ate his supper in pain in bed, but the strange adventure so worked upon his mind that it resulted in good. He applied hamsell io his books, and now he is professor ia me of the beet colleges of the oountrv