The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1875-06-17


= leaf of tea or a tumble, or 3 doughnu
such as only grandmothers know how
+ to make, or even a slice of the good
q old-fashioned bread and butter, witt
q its rich veneerjng Of ounce preserves
: which you and /, my chubby Yankei
: boy, know all about Even thu
greedy clamor of the tame chipmunE
was hashed by the tranquility which
!, hung like q soft garment over the
aspen groves and pale sage-brush and
Juniper shrubbery of their environs
and he disdained the platter o.
hOminy rendered for his special use,
being lost in visions of chestnut parks
: bounded by fields OF growing corn,
and Iabyrinthine stone wall from
his loop-hole in which he might bark
] his sauey defiance at the groups oi
/; children lettering home from school.
. Sc much for the missionary work and
refining influence of q woman's song.
As Doty equipped his mule in
preparation for his daily tramp to the
forest, two miles away from the camp,
he fonGled the face OF the perverse
animal and whispered q pet name in
his rabbit ear, which unusual tender
ness SO confused the evil devices OF
venerable Jack, grown tough in years
and iniquity, that he neglected TO
take his customary nibble out Of his
masters shoulder, and even enter
: tanned transient ideas of living a Sc
date,life benceforward. With jingling
Of chains and clatter of hoofs they
took up the march in single file along
the dry and graveled path which the
bed of the empty creek afforded them.
No word of theirs marred the i'm
pressive silence as they climbed the
activity at the head of the canon,
and had there not been flicker Of
beatiic joy glimmering in their coun-
tenances, one might have fancied
that 1t was moToseness, and not
sweet delicate sadness, which fetter-
ed their tongues. No shying and
bucking proclivities Of their stiff-leg-
ged steeds could elicit 3 word of bad
and condemnatory language no au-
dacity of elk or jack.rabbit could pro-
woke the compliment of an unslung
carbine, and q whistling rife ball.
But this seemly conduct will not ap-
pear strange if we consider that over
the hill to the eastward, whittier they
were journeying, seemed to lie their
destiny, and somehow their mental
picture of this destiny had singular
ly sweet voice for "Home, Sweet
Homer
"Jim,n finally said Doty with an
effort to be gay, "what makes you
look so trout-eyed this morning =?
You amt siek or anything, are you ?"
"Only little queer that's ALL"
nJust my Identical fix precisely"
continued Doty. "There must be
something in this here atmosphere
that strikes in on fellow, and sort of
willis him down and makes him feel
funny and heavenly-minded."
Hutchinson thoughtfully braided
wisp of his mules name, but made no
reply. Doty slowly and deliberately
/ propounded another question.
iiIf the honest truth was told, now,
Jim, amt you a little bit tired of this
halfway life? Wouldn't you like to
swap this Well-meaning partner of
yours for some little bunch of sweet
ness to-to-ah- to patch your raj
ment and pan out your backwheats
for You /? Jim"-this very impetuous-
ly-"Jim don't you wish you was
married ?'i
"Married Hi 1 sOliloquized
Dutchison, musingly; but he spoke
the last word as if he didn't really
mean what he said.
Again there was stiffness for few
minutes, when it became Dntehison's
turn to break the monotoy.
"Doty, my dear,n said he, you've |
been doing some powerful hard think
ing lately. Suppose you tell chap
what kind of q grist you've been
grinding in that wisdom-mill of
yours ~
"Pve been rejecting" was the re-
ply, "about my old folks, the COVER
nor and his wife, the authors of my
existence, as the Big Horned Saint |
used to call them. Don'tyou remem- |
Der the Big Horned Saint? That
sunset-headed piece of daintiness that
whacked with us on the Idaho trip |
and never was known to swear, all |
the time he was out-not even when |
his bulls stampeded in the Big Horn |
canon, where the trail is sleeper than |
church steeple2 ? You recollect we
found out afterward that he was a |
preacher out on vacation. Well, they |
are true blue, are these authors, and |
they cut my acquaintance, square, |
when 1 wrote them letter and told |
them the truth and let out as how l
swapped my Sunday perspiration-the |
sweat of my brow, as Big Horned
Saint vulgarly called it-ior ten dol
lar check on the Pacific Railroad
and I've been a prospecting and a
wondering whether there's good stuff
in me to make a prodigal son of.
However, what's the odds ? IF one
don't celebrate by cutting his thirty |
ties, he's going to celebrate by play
ing freeze-Out and shooting gOphers, |
which amt much Of an improvement
piously considered"
"Corn," was the query in return,
"if we're not abandoned wretches,
what are we Pp
Doty Immediately grappled the
conundrum and sank into deep rev.
erie, from which he was aroused, after
much mental wrestling, by q peculiar
cry, far from melodious in itself and
not unlike the coyote, but it thrilled
him as the slogan note did the Scotch
less at Lucknow. This was the second
tenacle which civilization had reach
ed out to reclaim her own. 1t was
the cry of baby. It came from the
the shelter Of bunch. of cottonwoods
Just ahead of them, where cool
spring welled forth in the center of an
oasis of rank and luscious grass, on
whose brink they had frequently
baited their mules and eaten their
tiffin, and by the side of which ran
seldom-used tributary Of the Bridger's
Pass trail.
Doty looked at Dutchison in big.
eyed astonishment, and Dutehison
stared at Doty with mouth wide open.
The former was the first to recover
speech, aad that with a volubility
quite amazing.
"High-low jick : jack and the
game" yelled he with enthusiasm.
CHOW is that for an old fashioned
tune? And don't it sound natural
either; I guess not Just the way we
used to talk when we were about his
age, you old ruin That's no bare
legged aboriginal, neither. No ANAL
agam there-heis a thor0ugh-bred
Caucasian fawn, or Pm no Judge OF
dialects. You needn't suggest pap
poose to me he's got too much free
dom of speech in his disposition for
any such character. Them Indian
cubs are born with their fingers in
their mouth and never take them out
till they're old enough to call for
blankets aud whiskey. My ears
Just hear him crate I'll venture to
say there are pins sticking in him
from all points of the compass. Or
like as not they've set him down on
a cactus and he don't like the situa-
ton. But don't the little joker reel it
of, though wonder if his mothers
a widow. What do you think of it,
Jim ?n EIt
sT used to think" said Jim "that
babies were a condemned nuisan ce,
but now feel awfully inclined to hire
out for dry nurse"
Even the indHrate and hard-heart-
ed Jack lifted up his voice st the un-
familiar sound and brayed q jubilee,
which was answered BY the wninny
of horse and the cautious appear
ance from the grove OF young man
4. 80. - l. r.A