e-rail. Paddy made himself scarce, and Triangle, in agony, flew
around to hunt up his daughter, whom they found asleep in a
summer-house.

Mrs. Major Jingo, when she heard that the Irish girl had introduced the
small-pox on Jingo Hill, liked to have fainted away; but, conquering her
weakness, she ordered the carriage, and bundled herself and four
children into it, so full of terror and alarm that she never so much as
said--"Take care of yourself, Mrs. Triangle!" Maj. Jingo returned, after
a fruitless search for Triangle's mad dog, and just as he entered the
hall, the Irish girl came rushing down stairs, crying--

"O! murther, murther! I'm dead as a door-nail, entirely, wid dese pains
in my face. Be gorra! O, murther!"

One look at the swollen and truly frightful face of the girl put the
Major to his _taps_; and stopping but a moment to tell Triangle to make
out the best he could, he left.

Next morning, bag and baggage, the Triangles _vamosed_. The poor girl
having recovered from her attack of the bees, which had led to the alarm
of small-pox, looked quite respectable. Never did a party enjoy _home_
more completely than the Triangles after that. Triangle has a holy
horror of trips to the country, and the Jingos are down on visitors from
the city.

Jake Hinkle's Failings.

In the village of Washington, Fayette Co., Ohio, there was a transient
sort of a personage, a kind of floating farmer, named Hinkle,--Jacob
Hinkle,--commonly called _Old Jake Hinkle_. Jake was, originally, a
Dutchman, a Pennsylvania, Lancaster County Dutchman; and that was about
_as_ Dutch as Holland and Sour Krout could well make a human "critter."
Well, Jake Hinkle owned, or had squatted on, a small patch of land, just
beyond old Mother Rodger's "bottom," that is, about a mile east of the
"Rattle Snake Fork" of Paint Creek, which, every thundering fool out
West knows, empties itself into--"Big Paint," which finally rolls out
into the Muskingum, and thence into the Ohio. Very well, having settled
the geographical position of Jake Hinkle, let me go on to state what
kind of a critter Jake was, and how it came about that he was pronounced
dead, one cold morning, and how he came up to town and denied the
assertion.

Jake Hinkle loved corn, lived on it, as most people do in the interior
of Ohio and Kentucky; he loved _corn_, but loved corn whiskey more, and
this love, many a time, brought Jake up to "the Court House" of
Washington, through