The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1872-12-21

We made Kenyon's StatioIS
the day-Sam and Phil gredsA; = .sets
ing the prospect of seeingsfS. n
white woman She appeared on the
threshold, brawny, coarse-haifded
woman of about forty, tidy-looking in
spite of her bare feet and the short pipe
in her mouth. BY her side appeared a
shoek-headed girl of twelve, with eyes
agog and mouth open at the strange
apparition of civilized-looking white
woman The husband stood beside the
ambulance-six feet and a half in his
cow-hide boots-and with a good
humored smile on his leatheFx faaa4
rrra--ls------s-r sliHS at DuIhe ) otttlon,
was adobe; but there was an air of
homely comfort about it, inside and out,
cheerful and inviting.
Aunt Polly was an excellent house
keeper, as viewed from Texan stand
point, and, after she had in the most
nafue manner satisfied her curiosity. in
regard to my looks and general makeup,
she commenced preparations for dinner
Sarah Eliza Jane, sole daughter OF the
house and race, sitting in low, home
made chair, stared readily till she had
comprehended that the bits Of braid
and lace in my lap were to be manufac-
tured into a collar similar to the one |
wore. When she learned that the collar
was to be made for her she ran out.
shouting her pleasure to her mother.
The mothers delight was as frank and
hearty as the daughters. and all ut once
the secret leaked out that the family
was in the possession OF fine Ameri-
can COW. Never speak disparagingly to
me of Pixies and Texans 1t has been
my experience that the least kindness
shown them Is returned tenfold, and
the smallest advance Of friendliness Is
met by them half way When dinner
was placed on the table there came
with it the most delicious butter / had
eaten for many days, and cup of the
sweetest buttermilk. Aunt Pollys
method for making butter was very
simple The cream was poured into a
high, TIN qumt-cup, and beaten with
/ spoon till the butter came-which it
! did III about fifteen minutes.
Becoming quite intimate, Aunt Polly
resumed her pipe, and gave me short
account of her history since emigrating
from Texas. The most striking incl
dents were the loss OF her former hus-
band by a stroke of lightning, about
ten months before, and the acquisition
OF her present husband by stroke OF
I,-e
Though she did not show me the weeds
she had worn on becoming a widow, she
exhibited the gorgeous good clothes"
she wore on again becoming n wife.
She stood little distance from me, and
- Is that eoarssti eosarsti-dey .. . dress sdla5I :
the pattern, consisting of detacl, =
/ bouquets brilliantly varigated in color,
and gigantic in size) scattered over a
plain of light sly-blue. Her husband
had proved kind and indulgent; since
their marriage he had been to Maricopa
Wells. and brought home another dress
of many colors-which, alasl had run
out of his saddle-bags, after a two
hours hard rain, on his way home. l
saw the dress-pattern, and oh, it
was pitiful!'
After this display of goodwill and
fine clothes she had favor to ask me.
Pointing to my trunk, she said her hus-
band was crazy to know whether there
was a waterfall in it. He had read so
much about waterfalls IN the stray
papers that fell into his hands, that he
had the greatest curiosity In the world
to know what they were, and to see one
with his own eyes. Aunt Polly had
shrewdly guessed it to be a new fashion
of putting up the hair; but they
both had AS correct an idea of it rs a
blind man has of colors With deep
regret I owned that there was no water
fall in the trunk; but, seeing their dis
appointment, succeeded, with the aid
of pair of stockings and a pin-cushion,
in putting up my hair into quite a little
Niagara, to the great delight Of these
fashion-worshiping people.
How charming and refreshing the
grove of trees looks, when you draw up
under their shadow at Ciila Bend, after
DAYS of toilsome travel over wearisome,
arid sand-plains, or through an almost
, interminable wilderness of grease-wood
and cactus. The whisper of the wind
in the trees, the bark of the dog that
: ran ont to meet rs, and the cackle of
the busy hens around the doorway, told
2 us that we should find good and happy
l people here. There was the solitary
house. as usual but it seemed more
| pretentious than those at the other
: stations The passage-way was higher
2 and wider, the rooms more numerous,
2 and finished with whitewash and good
| glass windows At the windows, cur
tains; a gay-colored counterpane on the
bed, and wolf-skins in front of it and
the lounge.
The station-keeper was a tall, black
: bearded, good-looking man, by name
) George Washington -. l knew that
7 / should find Sis's eldest sister here, as
< Mrs. George W. -, for she was mar
, ried on the same day with her Aunt
t Polly. The blue eyes, under long,
[ silken lashes, that met my gaze on the
threshold at Gila Bend were like Sis's
, only these were the eyes of woman;
there were the same graceful move
ments, with more of self-assertion. She
might have been 18. Her hands and
feet were small, and her rich brown
y hair, oddly though not unbecomingly
I dressed, lay on a forehead white and
L pure as that of child.
No wonder George was proud of his
wife, and had tried hard to win as such
e the barefooted girl whom he found one
day, with her family and some sorry OK
teams, camped near his house on thei1
d way from Texas to California. The
n emigrants were the girls mother, her
l. stepfather, her sister, brother, aunt,
a and the aunt's little girl Aunt Polly
|, seemed to be the leading man, for to
:, her belonged the two best ox-teams, one
:, of which was driven by herself, the
e other by the girl, Dorinda. She hired