p723-017 THE UNCLAD HORSEMAN.

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BY WM. T. THOMPSON, ESQ.

As the author of “Major Jones's Courtship,” Mr. Thompson has
gained a lasting reputation as a humorous writer. He first
became known to the Southern people as editor of the Augusta
Mirror, a literary paper published at Augusta, Ga. This paper
was afterwards merged into the Family Companion, a magazine
issued monthly at Macon, Ga., and edited by Mr. T. and Mrs.
Sarah Lawrence Griffin. The magazine was discontinued,
however, for want of patronage, and Mr. Thompson became
editor of the Western Continent, at Baltimore. After several
years' connexion with this paper, he disposed of it, and is now
editor of the Morning News, of Savannah, Ga., one of the best
daily papers published.

In addition to “Major Jones's Courtship,” Mr. T. has published
“Major Jones's Sketches of Travel,” and the “Chronicles of
Pineville.” His pictures of Georgia life are true to nature,
and prove him to be not inferior, in that line, to Longstreet, the
celebrated author of “Georgia Scenes.”

Widowers should look out for breakers. Absalom
Nippers was a widower, and one of the particularest men,
perhaps, that ever lived; though some people said that
when his wife was alive he used to dress as a common
field hand, and didn't use to take any pains with himself
at all. Every body knows how he spruced up about six
weeks after Mrs. Nippers died, and how he went to church
regular every Sunday; but they didn't have no confidence
in his religion, and used to say he only went to church to
show his new suit of mourning, and to ogle the gals.

With such a character among the wimmin, it ain't to

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be supposed that he stood any chance of getting another
Mrs. Nippers near home; and whether he was as bad to
his first wife as they said he was, or not, one thing was
certain, he had to look abroad for some one to fill her
place.

Mr. Nippers was very lucky in finding a gal just to his
mind, what lived about ten miles from his plantation.
Nancy Parker was rich, and though she wasn't very
young nor very handsome, she belonged to Mr. Nippers'
church, and filled his eye exactly; so he sot in courtin'
her with all his might. Ten miles was a good long ride,
and as he was an economical man, he used to ride over
to old Mrs. Parker's plantation every Sunday morning to
go to church with the family, take dinner with them, and
ride back in the cool of the evening. In that way he
managed to kill two birds with one stone; that is, to advance
the prospect of his happiness on this earth and the
world to come at the same time, without losing any of
his week-day time.

A ride over a dusty road is apt to soil a gentleman's
dry goods, and make him and his horse very tired. However,
Mr. Nippers didn't mind the fatigue as much as his
horse; but in a matter such as he had in hand, it was
very important that he should make as good an impression
as possible, so he adopted a plan by which he was able
to present himself before the object of his affections, in
order, with his Sunday coat as clean, and his blooming
ruffles as fresh and neat as if they had just come out of a
band-box. This was a happy expedient, and nobody but
a widower lover would think of it. He used to start from
home with his new coat and shirt tied up in a pocket
handkerchief, and after riding within a quarter of a mile
of Mrs. Parker's plantation, he would turn off into a
thicket of chinkapin bushes and there make his rural

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toilet. One bright Sunday morning Mr. Nippers had arrived
at this dressin' ground. It was an important occasion.
Everything was promisin', and he had made up
his mind to pop the question that very day. There was
no doubt in his mind that he would return home an engaged
man; and he was reckonin' over to himself the
value of Miss Nancy's plantation and niggers, while he
was settin' on his horse makin' his accustomed change of
dress. He had dropped the reins on his horse's neck,
what was browsin' about, makin' up his last night's
scanty feed from the bushes in his reach, and kickin' and
stampin' at such flies as was feedin' on him in return.

“I'll fix the business this time,” ses Mr. Nippers to
himself. “I'll bring things to a pint this time,” ses he,
and he untied his handkerchief with his clean clothes, and
he spread them on his saddle-bow.

“Wo, Ball!” says he—“I've just got to say the word,
and—wo!” ses he to his horse, what was kickin' and
rearin' about. “Wo! you old fool!—and the business
is settled jist like fallin' off a log.”

He was drawin' his shirt over his head, when Ball gave
a sudden spring, what like to made him lose his balance.
“Wo!” ses he—but before he could get his arms out of
the sleeves, Ball was wheelin' and kickin' like wrath at
something that seemed to trouble him behind. Down
went the clean clothes, shirt and all, on the ground.
“Wo! Blast yer pictur—wo, now!” ses Mr. Nippers,
grabbin' at the reins. But before he could get hold of
'em, Ball was off like a streak of lightnin', with a whole
swarm of yellow jackets round his tail.

Mr. Nippers grabbed hold of the mane and tried to stop
his horse, but it was no use. Away went the infuriated
Ball, and takin' the road he was used to travellin', another
moment brought him to the house. The gate was open,

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and in dashed the horse with the almost naked Nippers
hangin' to his neck, hollerin', “Stop him, hornets!” as
loud as he could scream.

On came the dogs, and after the horse they went round
the house, scatterin' the ducks and chickens, and terrifyin'
the little niggers out of their senses. The noise
brung the women to the door.

“Don't look, Miss Nancy! hornets! wo! ketch him!”
shouted the unclad Nippers, as, with spent breath, he
went dashin' out of the gate agin, with the dogs still after
him, and his horse's tail switchin' in every direction like
a young hurricane. Miss Nancy got one glimpse of her
forlorn lover, and before she could get her apron to her
eyes, she fainted at the awful sight, (!) while his fast
recedin' voice cryin' “Hornets! stop him! hornets!” still
rung in her ears.