The story is told of an English and an Irish trooper who were scouting against the Matabele in South Africa recently. A band of savages suddenly burst from behind some rocks and started for the men. They jumped upon their horses and fled over the rough country, but the Irishman kept falling to the rear of his companion.
"Confound you, Mike!" exclaimed the Englishman; "ride, ride for your life! You'll be caught!"
"Go 'long wid you!" replied the Irish trooper, who was doing his best; "do you think I'm throwin' the race?"
ONE OF THE FAMILY.
It may interest some of our readers to glance through this short characteristic sketch of James Seymour, born in London in 1702, which is more strongly impressive than many longer memoirs. The fact that he displayed a fondness for drawing and painting in boyhood, and subsequently gained celebrity by his skill in designing horses, is too well known to comment upon. Once the proud Duke of Somerset employed Seymour to paint a room at his seat in Sussex with the portraits of his running-horses. Having admitted the artist to his table, he one day drank to him, saying,
"Cousin Seymour, your health."
The painter replied, "My lord, I really believe that I have the honor of being of your Grace's family."
This hurt the pride of the Duke so much that he rose from the table and ordered his Steward to pay Seymour and dismiss him. Finding, however, that no one in England could complete the pictures begun, he condescended to send for his cousin. The painter responded to the message in these words:
"My lord, I will now prove that I am of your Grace's family, for I won't come."