Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1872-11-21
DAWES OLD FRIENDS.

Mr.. David Durham came into the vii.
lace to hunt up his old kith and kin. lie
was Mr.. David Durham now, with a new
suit on and money in his pocket, whereas
the thriftless, barefoot youth who had
trained out of town by this road eight
years ago, whistling, and with his hands
in his pockets, had been recognized all
through the village as "Dave," which
cognOmen expressed in brief his social
position and advantages. Yet those who
had known the care-free, sunhurned lad
might have discovered traces of him still
in the frank gray eye and easy bearing of
the stranger.
This was Main Street up which he was
scattering 1t was bordered asof old by
a hem of emerald grass, nibbled close by
an occasional stray COW or wandering
goat. 1t was speckled breeZily with sun
shine and shadow from the overarching
trees which sheltered the comfortable,
well-to, do mansions.
Dave, as | have said, had disappeared
down that respectable street years ago
with an old straw hat on his head, and
whistling a snatch of song. He came
back whistling still, with a new hat, and
a few gray hairs streaking the black locks
beneath it, and perhaps that was all the
difference. He thought 50. How could
he be signally changed when everything
here was so like what he remembered?
Beyond this, he recollected, was the
trading street, a thrifty avenue, with
shops little and big, where country wares,
ploWs, brooms, q~ueenSware, silk dresses,
and ribbons were sold from opposite COun-
tiers, and trade was varied and brisk;
there was the old cofiin-shop, and the
beer.house with the overlooking glass not
yet empty on the creaking sign before it.
And after a spell of business the little
street meandered off in the direction of
the s~ea-shore, and forgot its calling, wan.
dering along the pebbly beach in sight Of
far-of sails and smoky distances. Down
there under the cliffs the old scow used
to swing in the shallows-the old scow in
which he used TO go padding about with
Hannah-IIannah, who never shirked
work, and always helped him to bail out.
He wanted to see her and ''the girls" her
prudent elder sisters, who were wont to
anathematize her when she came home,
barefoot and muddy, with her blue apron
full of clans.
David had seen many changes since he
lived up in that old red farmhouse with
the old farmer and his wife, the torment
of the girls and the comrade of Hannah.
He had wintered up in the pine woods,
far up in the solitudes Of Maine, floating
down with the men on RATS Nhen the
spring freshets came. II knew the sap
and freedom of primitive life, and once
he had been nearly wrecked on the rap
ids but he had always remembered the
old water-logged craft and the little girl
in the check apron-black-ey eyed, peck
marked, and agile-who had padded
about in it with him. Didsuch girls ever
grow to be women ? he wondered. He
tried to make a situation in his mindthat
suited Hannah, but she didn't suit the
situation. Impossible to imagine the
quaint, willful little thing settled down
into the ordinary avocations of women.
He must wait wait till he got to the old
farmhouse.
The tide was coming in, and there was
q familiar smell of salt air and shelltish
all about the place as lie approached.
But the old red house was shut up; no
smoke issued from the chimney, no sign
of life was visible in window or doorway.
A lonely ash.tree near the fence turnedup
its %changeling leaves |mQckingly as of old,
a solitary bird, startled by his footsteps,
winged its way from the branches.
this does looE ike change !" muttcred
Mr.. David to himself, cycling the weed.
grown garden lingeringIy, What spell
could have fallen on the old busy life that
once kept the place astir ?
'Nlust have moved" he concluded, as
he went down the hill to the road below.
At that moment the village school broke
up, and out burst a cornucopiao OF young
sters. shouting and flying along the road.
"My lad, y said Mr., David, catching at
one OF the hindmost as he scudded past,
"can you tell me where old Farmer Mich.
OILS has moved to ~
The boy eyed the stranger with rustic
shyness, wriggling himself from the de-
tanning hand. 1t rds vexatious to be
stopped in that way.
Guess you haven't been long in these
parts, he said, giving his hat Il knowing
thrust on one side.
mo, not long. Where has The old man
gomez"
ITO the be~rrin-rround, | reckon said
the boy, viciously, unable to resist the
lest. "Old Sexton Simms N tell you
where" he added, looking back as he
sped after his comrades.
OiA AtAt'h AtLlltAa Alatt pttu u FllldEC
institution in David's young DAYS. No
change had overtaken him, it seemed. A
thin and wrinkled little man, bloodless as
a last years mosquito, he pOndered the
strangers face with q wise and sidewise
glance, as though studying an iIlegible
inscription.
Shouldn't a knowed we no more'n the
dead, " he cried, when Mr.. David men.
toned his name; though ] did think,
soon's ever | sot eyes on ye, you must be
some one or nnther. The old folks? Oh
yes. the old folks is gone. both ON 'em;
died within six months of each other,
over thTee years ago come next spring.
The Old place has been in limbo ever
since.r
And the girlsy
Married and settled-leastways Jane
and Betsy, James done first-rate-frst.
rate, She's Squire Johnson's wife, up
there in the big house yonder. And Bet
So, she always was a sharp one, / thought,
but somehow or another her husband isn't
a bit forehanded. y
And Hannahf' was on David's lips.
bnt an old customer came in and absorbed
the sections attention.