Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1873-04-03
Tates aud Sketehes.
Dawes OLD FRIENDS.

10 nunt up his Old klth and kin. he was
Mr.. David Dunnam now, with a new suit
on and money in his pocket, whereas the
thriftless, barefoot youth who had trarnped
out OF town by this road eight years ago.
whistling, and with his hands In his pock-
cts, had been recognized all through the
village as Dave" which cognomen ex-
pressed in brief his social position and
advantages. Yet those who had known
the care-free, sunburned lad. might have
discovered traces of him still in the frank
gray eye and easy bearing Of the stranger
Ihis was Main street up which he was
sauntering. 1t was bordered as of old by
a hem of emerald grass, nibbled close by
goat. 1t was speckled brcezily 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
back, whistling still, with a new hat and
q few gray hairs streaking the black locks
beneath it, and perhaps that was all the
difference. He thought so. How could
he be signally changed when every thing
here was so like what he remembered?
Beyond this, he recollccted, was the
trading street, a thrifty avenue, with shops
little and Dig, where country wares.
plows, brooms, queensware, silk dresses,
and ribbons were sold from opposite
counters. and trade was varied and brisk;
there was the old coffin shop, and the beer
house with the overfiowng glass not yet
empty on the creaking sign before it. And
after spell of business the little street
meandered off in the direction of the sea-
shore, and forgot its calling. wandering
along the pebbly beach in sight of far off
sails and smoky distances. Down there
under the cliffs the old scow used to swing
in the shalIows-the old scow in which he
used to go padding about with Hannah
Hannah, vino never shirked work, and al
ways helped him to bail out He wanted
to see her and .'fhe girls her prudent
elder sisters, who were wont TO anathe.
mize 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 farm house with
the old farmer and his wife, the torment
of the girls and the comradc of Hannah.
He had wintered up in the pine woods,
far up in the solitude OF Maine, floating
down with the men on RATS when the
spring freshets came. He knew the sap
and freedom of primitive lie, and once
he had been nearly wrecked on the
rapids; but he had always remembered
the old water logged craft and the little
girl in the check apron-black eyed, poch
marked, and agile--who had padded
about in il with him.
Did such girls ever grow to be women?
he wondered. He tried to make a situa,
ton in his mind that suited Hannah, but
she didn't suit the situation Impossible
to imagine the quaint, wilful little thing
settled down into the ordinary ayocations
of women. He must wait--wat till he
got to the old farmhouse.
The tide was coming in, and there was
4 familiar smell of salt air and shell-fisl
all about the place as he approached.
But the old red house was Shut up; no
smoke issued from the chimney. no sign OF
life was visible in the window or doorway.
A lonely ash tree near the fence turned up
its changeling leaves mockingly as of old
a solitary bird, startled by his footsteps,
winged its way from the branches.
This does look Ike changer muttered
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?
Must have moved he concluded, u.
he went down the hill to the road below.
At that moment the village school broke
up, and out burst cornucopia of young
sters, shouting and flying along the road
MY lad said Mr.. David, catching at
one ofthe hindmost as he scudded past,
lean you tell me where old Farmer Mich
OILS has moved to?''
The boy eyed the stranger with rus
tie shyness, wrigsling himself from the
OBTAINING hand 1t 'cas vcxaiious TO be
stopped in that way.
Guess you haven't been long in these
parts" he said, giving his hat knowing
thrust ON one side.
NO, not long. Where has the old man
gone ?"~
TO the berrin-ground, reckon said
the hoy. yiciously, unable to resist the lest
"Old Sexton Simms II tell You where
he added, looking back as he sped after
his comrades.
Old Sexton Simms had been II village
institution in David's young days. No
change had overakeh him, it seemed. A
thin and wrinkled little man, bloodless as
Il last years mosquito. had pondered the
StlduEtE ldtt Win u WlsS Nht N'NN"i-'
glance, as though studying an illegible
inscription.
Shouldn't n knowd We no more'n the
dead" he cried, when Mr.. David men,
toned his name; ''lhough | did think.
soon's ever sot eyes on ye, you must be
some one or nuther The old folks9 Oh
YES, the old folks is gone, both on EN-;
died within six months Of each other, over
three year ago come next spring. The
old place has been in limbo ever since"
And the girls y
"Married and settled-leastway Jane
and Betsey. James done iirst-rate. She's
Squire Johnson's wife, up there in the big
house yonder. And Betsey, she always
was a sharp one, thought, but somehow
OF another her husband isn't bit fore
handed
"And Hannah ~ was on Dayid's lips.
but an old customer came in and absorbed
the seNton's attention.
;. David concluded to make his way To
Squire Johnson's. a YsH
At the moment Of coming to this con-
elusion few big drops fell ominously
CONTINUED on FOURTH PAGE