Democratic Sentinel, Volume 16, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 January 1892 — His Dire Revenge. [ARTICLE]

His Dire Revenge.

During the halcyon days of the roller-skating rink I was in the ticket office of a rink in Louisville when a man came in and asked if he could hire the floor for one hour. It was about 10 o’clock in the forenoon, and, after some figuring, he was told that he could have it for $lO. “I want to bring a friend here and teach him to roll,” he explained, “and I want it understood that no one is to raise a hand to help.” This was agreed to, and he paid the money and went away. When he returned, ten minutes later, he had his friend with him, and he selected one pair of rollers, strapped them to the man’s feet, and after a little led him out to the center of the floor, where there was a single column reaching up to the roof. Here he loosened his hold, stood back with folded arms, and said: “James Burns, you arc a cheat and a liar! You lied me out of SSO a year ago!” “Look here, Sam, what docs this mean?” demanded the other, who was clinging to the post for support. “It means that the hour for my revenge has come at last! James Burns, ypu are a scoundrel! Yes, sir; you are a contemptible, miserable wretch!” “You—-you must be crazy!” gasped the victim, as he recovered from a “slew” made by one of his feet. “No, sir! Far from it! I planned this to get revenge. You are a lowlived miserable cur! Words fail to express my contempt for you!” The other made a move at him, but “slewed” right and left, and came near going down. He got a new grip on the post, and stood there with bis legs wobbling and trembling. The other steadfastly regarded him for a long minute, and then exclaimed: “Liar, vilifler, slanderer—l defy and spit upon you!” He advanced and spat, and then turned on his heel and walked away. The other was so mad and helpless that he shed tears, and he offered an employe $5 to come and help him sit down and get his skates off. This was against the bargain, however, and no one went near him. He got so mad that he decided to try it alone, but the instant he let go of the post one foot shot one way and the other in a contrary direction, and he came down like a block of stone. After ten minutes’ work he got his skates off, and then he crawled across the floor on hands and knees. His companion had disappeared, but as he was ready to follow after him, he waved his hand to us, and said: “I will hunt him! I will find him! I will skin him, and use his skin for fish-bait to catch bullheads with!”— New York Sun. Mrs. Jefferson Davis, after reviewing the claims of various Southern States to her husband’s ashes, decides that Richmond shall be their final resting place, although this course involves a personal sacrifice on her own part. Beauvoir, however, she says, is too insecure a site for a tomb, for the little sandy peninsula on which the family estate in Mississippi's situated is in danger of being obliterated some time by the waves of the Gulf of Mexico.