The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1877-10-17
OLD BLUCHER'S WEDDING.
How He Spilled His Wife Of an Hour of
the Wagon.

JolALS ASi1o"s LII S'SAoJ ho"S NV = w
seer considerable living. When I was
twenty-one the deer used to come out Of
the woods yonder and eat my buck
wheat, and 1 used to 60 out with my
rifle and shoot 'em down to save it.
Vcnison is scarce now, but you couldn't
coax a hungry man to eat it then if he
could get anything else, it was so COM
mon. Ask Aunt Martha if that isn't SO.
AS for doings, they're all altered.
Everything is fine as fvepence now. We
had to put up with common ixings then,
I tell you. Now that big wedding down
at Dadenhammer yesterday. Aunt Mar
tina and I went. All the house was fixed
up with stuffed furniture, and there was
things to eat l didn't know the names Of;
and four musicians from the city to play
for them to dance, and after the wedding
there was a carriage to take the young
folks to the railway depot, for what they
call their tour, and a wagon behind,
bless you, with the brides trunks, as big
Us houses, every one of 'em. That was
my Martha's niece, that bride was !; and
when Martha was married she went on
q different kind of q tour.
Imean to tell all about it while I'm talk
ing, though she says the young people
will think she wasn't q bit genteel. Gen.
teel isn't my brother any way-never
was. Give me up and down just what
you are worth-no airs.
We didn't take any in those times.
We were new settlers, every one of us.
Martha's mother and father had one big
room for parlor and sitting-room and
kitchen, and there we we're married.
Peter Grimes fddled for us, and we had
corr cakes and chicken, and sweet cake
and coffee; and light biscuits and plum
sas, and fried pork for supper; and the
parson he ate as hearty as any and
laughed as loud IS any of us-though
when it came to dancing, of course he
wasn't there; and after we'd danced until
morning, Martha and I started home.
I had a cart !; it hadn't any cover, and it
didn't ride very easy, and [ was going
to take her over in that.
We'd had q furnishing bee before and
all my folks and all hern had give us
something but Grandmother Smith
had fetched over a feather bed for q
present to Martha-and now says she /:
"Put it in the wagon, Butcher, and it
will be q comfortable seat for Martha"
So we did it.
Martha sat on the bed. I perched up
on the seat, and away we drove. Moth
er Smith she cried, so did Martha.
Father-in-law hurrahed. So did I,
and off we went.
For a considerable time I had plenty
to do, coaxing Martha to cheer up !; tell
ing her that she could 60 home as often
as she liked and pretending to scold
her, though I wasn't angry, for q girl
who loves her own folks and is a good
daughter is sure to be q good wife.
But after o while she cheered up, and
as we rode along in the gray dawn, just a
little mister than night, she said
"Im SO sleepy that I think I shall
just cuddle down in the feathers and take
a nap"
edo it," said I from my perch.
So after O while I spoke to her with
out turning my head, and she didn't an
swer.
"Sound asleep, poor little chicken"
thought l, u drlv on.
It wa a cloudy sort of morning. We'd
passed through the marsh, and the mos
quitoes buzzed about, but never reused
the girl up. We'd come to the woods,
and there you couldn't see your hand
before your face, and still she was sound
asleep, [ thought, and I vas glad she
should have such a good rest. But
when we'd come to the top of the hill,
and I could see our little house, I could
not stand it any longer. I felt as if I'd
like to have her take the first peep along
with me-"
"Martha |" I shouted, turning around
on the high seat, martha, wake up,
lassie! We can see u house from
here"
But there I stopped short, and thought
I should die. Martha wasn't there.
Neither she nor the feather bed was on
the cart-it was just empty.
She'd fallen off somewhere but
where ? And what might have happened
to her? There were plenty Of wild
beasts in the woods then-the smaller
kind, of course, but not pleasant to meet
and the swa mp in parts was deep
enough to drown in.
I couldn't stop to drive back slow and
careful. I jumped down, leaving old Jed
to take care of himself, and away I flew
back into the woods, calling "Martha
Martha !" and feeling about rs I went,
but nobody answered.
I tell you, boys, it was a dreadful hour
for me; I almost tainted, or got a fit,
or something, before I got through the
woods to the marsh. But there, there I
was stopped, and being 81 scared, had
made so nervous, that I burst out q
laughing.
There, in the midst of the soft mud,
was the feather bed, all smeared and
spattered, and on it sat Martha, crying.
The mud wasn't much over her knees if
she'd waded out, but she had her new
boots on and her Sunday go-to-meeting
merino, and she couldn't make up her
mind to do it. She was safe, but she
was cold, and oh, boys, wasn't she
cross!
"Im going back to ma" sobbed she
across the mud. eff you'd cared for me,
you could not have lost me off,"
"Oh, Martha p said I but she
wouldn't look at mt.
I went into the mud and brought her
out, and then I went for the wagon and
got out poor Grandmother Smiths
feather bed, and then we went home. It
wasn't a pleasant ending to the wedding,
I can tell you. But after Martha had
cried an hour or two she began to get
over it, and at last she told Inc how it all
as far as she knew.
She fell SO sound asleep that she
dreamed she was ut home, and the old
lady calling her to get up and get break
fast, and said she to herself in her sleep:
=" Its very cold this morning." and turn
ed over to feel for the blankets; that
started the bed and off it slid, and there
it lay in the mud, and there she lay on
top of it; and when she walked up she
could not remember where she was, but
thought the roof had blown off the old
house or she'd been carried off by the
old boy, until I'd driven too far away to
hear her.