Lewistown gazette. [volume] (Lewistown, Pa.) 1843-1944, 1864-04-27
TAKES G. SKETCHES


Red and sulIen, like the eye of some
baeful demon, the low sun glowed through
the tangled depths of November woods,
casting bloody lines of light across the
fallen trees, whose messy trunks were half
hidden in drifts of faded yellew leaves,
and eVoking faint, sweet scents, like Ori
ent sandal wood and teak, from thousand
forest censors, hidden away, who knows
how and where. And through that line
of dull, flaming fire the sky trowned-a
leaden gray concave, freighted, as the
weatherwise could tell you, with snow
fakes sufficient to turn that broken forest
into fairy grove of pearl aud ermine.
So the daylight was ebbing away IRON this
Thanksgiving eve.
Now, wonder where | am? said John
Siddons, pausiug abruptly in the scarce
visible foot path that wound among the
trees. AS completely turned round" as
though | stood in the deserts Of Egypt
| wish | had been sensible enough to keep
to the high-road; these short cuts generally
turn out long ones. However, If | keep
straight ahead, [ mast inevitably emerge
from these woods somewhere
He sat down on messy stump, leaning
his head carelessly on one hand, while the
other played unconscously with the worn
brlm Of his blue soldiers eap-a slender,
pleasant faced young man, with grey blue
eyes, and dark hair thrown back from
bronzed forehead, which had been touched
by the fiery arrows of many a Southern
sun in lonely swamps, and along the fever
reeking shores Of sullen rivers
HOuseless-homeless " he murmured to
himself. i wonder how many others are
saying the same thing this Thanksgiving
eve. To think that should fight through
the campaign unhurt, and return with an
honorable discharge in my pocket to a
place where no, one knows or cares wheth
er I'm alive or dead, while so many brave
fellows were shot down at my side with
bullets that tore through a score of hearts
at home, carrying sharper pangs than
death has to give! It's queer thing to
have only one relative, and he total
stranger. IF [ find this second cousin of
my father he'll probably kick me out of
doors for shiftless, soldering vagabond.
But, hang it, man can't live alone like
tortoise in its shell. | remember wonder
ing, when [ was a boy. why the Madeira
vines over the porch stretching out their
green tendrls, and seemed to grope through
the sunshine for something to cling to- |
think understand it now
He rose up and walked on through the
russet leaves that rustled ankle deep be.
meath his tread, still musing-musing;
trying to study out the unknown quanti-
ties in life's great equation, while the sun
went down behind bank of lurid clouds,
aud the chill night wind began to sigh
sorrowiully in the tree tops. Add sudden
iy the sturdy woods tapered off into sill
yer stemmed thicket Of white birches, and
the white birches fringed lonely country
road with little red house beyond, whose
windows were aglow with fire light, and
whose door yard was full of the peculiar
perfume of white and maroon. blossomed
chrysanthemums.
Zenas Carey was leaning over the gate,
surveying the stormy sunset with critical
eyes
Il told Melinda so p calculated Zenas.
apparently addressing himself to the crook |
ed apple tree by the road. '['ll bet nv
best steer we have a good old fashioned
snow to keep Thanksgivin' with smet
1t In the air this mornin', but women
don't never believe nothing, until it comes |
to pass right under their noses, for
This rather obscure sentence was nipped |
in the bud by footstep by his side;
Zenas turned abruptly to reconnoitre the
new arrival.
will you be kind enough to give me
glass of water, sir?' said John Siddons,
YEARLY.
'Sartin, sir?' said Zenas. SO you're /
soldier, hey?'
"A returned soldier said Siddons, drain
ing the cool element from the cocoanut
shell that always lay close to the well curb
at the side of the house.
'Goin' home to keep thanksgiyiu? ques-
toned Zenas.