Rensselaer Republican, Volume 25, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 September 1892 — A Story of a Close Call. [ARTICLE]

A Story of a Close Call.

St. Louis Globe Democrat. “ I was once sentenced to be blown from a gun, ” said Major John Hitchat the Southern. “I had long been a resident of that land of revolutions, Central America. During one of the semi-annual political upheavals I was captured by a savage mob known as the Army of San Salvador, and sentenced to death. In the camo of my captors a six-pound gun was fired at high noon by means of a sun glass, and to the muzzle of this antiquated smooth bore I was strapped and left in the broiling sun to await my fate. Now, I have faced several kinds of death in my day,but that knocked all the nerve out of me. I could not see the small fiery spot made by the sun. glass, but I knew that it was creeping slowly but surely to the powder at the vefit. 1 imagined that I could hear the powder hissing with the heat. The blazing sun bent down upon my bare head, blinding me and seeming to boil the blood in my veins. I became hysterical, and prayed and cursed by turns. The great clock in the cathedral was on the stroke of noon, and I knew that the concentrated rays of the sun were pouring squarely upon the powder. The troops were dozing in the shade. A few,awakened by the bell, raised up on their elbows and watched me with lazy interest, expecting every moment to see me blown to shreds. One—two —three —four—five - with maddening deliberation came the strokes of the bell, when suddenly a harsher note was heard—the roar of musketry. The camp was surprised, and my captures driven back. The cords were cut, and I sat down beneath the muzzle of the gun just as it belched forth its midday salute. ” A Washington man has a bright youngster who succeeded recently in getting even with his father in a very telling though unconscious manner. The father was reproving the little fellow's table manners. “Don't do that," said he, J ‘or we'll have to call you a little pig. The warning seemed to be lost, for the fault was repeated. “Do you know what a pig is ? ’ was the inquiry, put in a solemn manner. “Yes, sir. " “What is it ?" “ A pig is a hog’s little boy. ” The lesson in etiquette was suspended.—Washington Star. Two farmers in Harper county, Kansas, chased a lightning rod ped dler three miles with pitchforks.