Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1876-03-17

STWaT HOMEMADE ICE.CREAM.
"GooD gracious, mari" said Angelica
Crane to her overworked parent, at night
Nfhll of memorable day-a day that
marked the beginning of the young
'Squire's Christmas holidays at home, and
every minute Of it crammed and crowded
with labor for The entertainment in his
honor at the Chf.e homestead" good
graciousi you ain'W going to have home
made cream, surelyr' The young lady's
nose, which was exceedingly retl0usse al.
ready was perched high in the air with
disdain. "lf there's anything l can't
abide" she said, it's frozen corn starch;
and that's all you can make of home made
cream, any way you fix i'll"
Hold your tongue, Angy," said her
mother; you're the most Onfeelin' cree
tur ever see. You'd hcv me harness up
the team and drive away to town and pay
out mint of money, when kin Jest as
well have it for nothin'. Haint we got a
prime new freezer, and cream and eggs
and ice, without its costin' cent? What
more do you wantY"
A prime new freezerl" scornfully
echoed Angy. you'll want half dozen
of emp
We'll, can't borry emp said her
prudent parent.
''And who's going to hang over emp"
said the young lady, whose stay at board
ing-school had not obliterated the home
dialect. They need to be turned and
turned, and everybody's worn out. It's
nearly time to dress now, and you want
little coolin' off yourself. You're as red
as beet"
I'm stay if can be of any service"
said voice in the doorway.
"Why, Sally" said Mrs. Crane, "you'll
want TO run home and dress, won't your"
"Oh, I'd rather not" said the voice,
this time trembling n little. ~ don't
feel mt for any fun, Mrs. Crane. 1t don't
seem to me ever will again"
-" Ls,pose moi, deary," said the farm
er's wife, with an expression of pity
mingled with relief It'll be dreadful
convenient to hev you stay, Sally, if you
kin There's power to do yet, and only
one pair o. hands to do it. s'pose you
wouldn't keer TO go up in the parlor; but
the treezers'll be in the cellar, and the
heater keeps it nice and warm down there !;
and while you're a-makin' the cream, you
kin listen to the music, and hear the noise
and all. It'll come kind o. nice to you
that way, won't it, Sally?"
GOOD life, marn' laughed the viva
cious daughter; lis that what YOU call
nice? 1t reminds me of the little hungry
boy that went to smell the steam at the
pastry -cook'sl"
You don't know nothin about the
way Sally feels" said Mrs. Crane, nor
don't think you could if you tried.
believe you'd dance and whistle about be.
fore the grass took root over your pappy's
grave; but Sally loved hern, poor child,
and she can't help thinkin' of the poor
school-master lyin' out there in the snow
when here he was, only bit ago, as chick
and smart as anybody. It's no knowin'
whose turn it'll be next"
Whether the good woman had any rea-
son OF her own for thus dwelling upon a
melancholy subject, it decided poor little
Sally's aversion for the merry. making,
and put to flight the gay Angelica, who
was in no humor for red eyes and noses,
when the young squire would shortly
come, and it behooved these features to be
at their best.
But Sally fell to sobbing outright, not
giving thought TO the deleterious effect
OF tears upon her beauty, although once
upon time it was bright and bonny
enough to ensnare the young squire him
self. Long ago, when he drew her to
school on his handsome sled, he made
many stumble over the ice in looking
back upon the sweet face under its scarlet
hood, the little cheeks all aglow, and the
yellow curls wantoping about with the
brisk wintry air. Sslly's was always the
biggest apple from the finest tree in the
orchard; the most luscious grapes from the
grapery found their way to Sally's desk /;
and in the intervals of his possessing a
penknile young Master Randall left no
blunt nencil in SallV's gachel
When II became necessary that he
should be sent TO place Of instruction
befltting his station in life, and the fiat
had gone forth that the dear old days at
the village school should becOm, part and
parcel OF the past; when he must bid good
by to his rOmps in the new-mOwn hay,
his races with the young colts in the ten.
acre field, his berrying and picnicking,
his coasungdOwn the glorious old hill
when he must part with his dog Lancer
and his gun and his pony-abOve all,
with Sally-it was u heart-rending time.
Whatever grOwn-up folks may think OF
these childish grieis, they are as tough to
bear us the heavier ones that come later
and they leave great ugly scars that are
sometimes only half healed over.
When viii Randall cut Sally's name
and his own deep into the bark of the old
dl luC HlOtt vi lllc ld0t, III
seemed TO him that the knife went inta
his heart with every turn of the letters in
her precious name. Tears rolled out OI
his eyes in spite of his manly endeavOr tl
choke them down; as FOR Sally, she had
given way long ago, and, with her sun
Onnet tight down over her face, was wa
tcring the gray old moss at the foot of the
tree with floods Of childish woe.
At last it Was done; there were the
initials linked together deep in the ruggeC
bark; the crimson light from the western
sky shone full upon each and all. Viii
DGt his knife back in his pocket with 1
click of determination. gulped back hi:
tears at once aud for the last time, anC
taking Sally from the ground, he smOotheC
back her yellow locks, cOaxing her int
quiet with the solemn promise of hi
loyalty hencefOrlh and forever To the love
between Them. He declared that th'
names linked there upon the tree should
never be separated while life remained u
him, and with many avow OF fealty cOinet
from the books he had devOured among
the lumber in the garret, and simple
plants of love brought up from the depthi
of his little swelling heaTt, VIII bade littl'
Sally good-by
But alas Tor the memorable decrees o
fate and fashionl Seven long years hat
passed and gone since that last trystinl
time, and although the two names wer'
still linked together upon the old walnu