BILL HOOD. 



Oh, what a tangled web we weave 

 When first we practice to deceive. — Scott. 



Bill Hood was a trader pure and simple. He never 

 did, would, or I doubt if he could, pursue any other 

 calling. When I first met him horses were his speci- 

 alty, and if he is now in the land of the living he is, in 

 all probability, still making exchanges in that staple. 

 When a boy at school he was noted as the most in- 

 veterate "swopper" in the district. There was noth- 

 ing under the sun he would not trade for if he could 

 get a little boot, as trading was with him from the 

 first a business and not a pastime. There was a story 

 in the neighborhood where I first met him that in a 

 measure showed how thoroughly this passion perme- 

 ated his system even as a boy. x\s it was told to me, 

 his Aunt Lucy lived on an adjoining farm. She had no 

 children and Bill was her favorite ; but as she was very 

 close there was never any presents coming from that 

 source. 



The spring that "Willie" (that is what she called 

 him) was twelve years old Aunt Lucy traded a calfskin 

 with a traveling peddler for a buck-horn handled pocket 

 knife. She showed it to her Willie when he called 

 and let him have it to make a bundle of shavings to 

 kindle the fire next morning. The knife was sharp 

 and strong, and as it slipped through the straight fibre 

 of the cedar sticks, Bill made up his mind that he 

 wanted it and must have it. How to get it he did not 



