The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1873-12-18
LUKE
IN COLORADO PARK, 1873.


wots that your readin'?-a novel7 A novel-,veli
dern my skin
You man grown and bearded, and histing such
stuH about gals and their sweetheartsi No wonder
Look at mel clar two hundred land never read
one in my life.
That's my opinion o. novels. And ez to their Iyin'
round here,
who came mp last year
On account Of his lungs and the mountains and the
balsam o. pine and FIR;
And his daughter-wen, che read novels, and that's
what's the matter with her.
Yet she was sweet on the jedge, and stuck by him
Alone in the cabin mp yer-tiI she grew Ike ghost,
all white.
She was only slip Of thing. ez light and ez up
Ez rifle smoke blown through the woods, but she
wasn't my kind-no way
speakn o gals, dye mind that house ez you rise
A mile and = half from Whites and jist above
Mattingly's mill7
You do? Well now thar,s a Vaif What vor, s,vy
herr o, come now, thar, quiti
she was only bedeylin' you boys, for to me she
Now she's what call gal-ez pretty and plump ez
Teeth e white ez a hounds, ana they'd go through
Eyes tsatkln snap me cap. 50 she asked to know
"whar was hidf"
Katy-did.
But what was 1 talking of?-ol the ledge and his
dauRhter-she read
Novels the whole day long, and reckon she read
And sometimes She read them out loud to the jedge
ou the porch where he sat-
And Twas how Lord Augustus" said this and how
E" Lady Blanche" she said that.
But the sickest Of all that heerd, was yarn that
they read bout chap,
fun o. tho Rreenest o sap;
And they asked mo to hear, but says, Miss
When likes can sling my own lies, and thet chap
aud shouldn't agree"
Yet somehow or other she always sayin' I
OF folks about whom she had read, or suthin belike
And thar warn't no end o. the names that she give
"Robin Hood" Leather-stocking," "Rob Roy
o, tell you, the crittsr was queer.
And yet ef she hadn't been spilled, she was harmless
She could jabber in French to her dad and they
say she knew how to play,
And she worked me that shot-pouch up thar-which
the man doesn't live ez kin use,
And Bippors-you see 'em down yer-ez would
cradle an Iniins pappoose.
Yet along o. them novels, you sec, she was wastin
And then she got shy with her tongue, and at last
had nothin' to say;
And whenever happened around, her face it was
hid by book,
much a look.
And this was the way It was. It was night when
10 say 70 aAA AZ kooe-DgI AoF HecAoAeu 70 20
At "sun up'' tho day they left. So shook 'em all
'Cept Mabel, and she was sick, ez they give me to
understand.
But jlst as passed the house next morning at
dawn, some one,
Like little wayer o mist, got up on the hill with
Miss Mabel il was, alone-au wrapped in a mantle
Of lace
And stood there straight. in the road, with a touch
o. the sun in her face.
And she looked me right in the eyo-rd seen suthin
like It before
WHOM hunted wounded doe to the edge of Clear
Aud had my knee on it's neck, and list was rasin'
my knife
When 1t gave look like that, and-wel, it got
OIL with it's life
"wo going to-day" she said, "and thought I
would say good-by
To you in your own house, Luke-these woods, and
the bright blue sky
You've always been kind TO us, Luke, and papa has
found you stin
As good as the air he breuthes, and wholesome as
Laurel Tree hill.
"And wen always think of you, Luke, the thing |
could not take away;
The balsam that dwella In the woods, the rainbow |
Aud yougl sometimes think OF nae, Luke, as you |
know You once used 10 say,
A ride smoke blown through the woods, moment, |
but never 60 stay"
And then We shook hands. She turned, but a-sud- |
dent she totterod and fell,
And caught her sharp by the waist and held her |
II was only mint, you know, that ez cold and ez
white she lay
I.z a snow-Hake here on my breast, and then-wel,
sue melted away
And gone. - And thar are her books but
says not any FOR me,
Good enough maybe for some, but them and
They spilled a decent gal might have made some
chap wife,
And look at me I-clar two hundrod-and never
read one In my mel