The daily gazette., 1877-09-26
Uncle B|ucheT's Wedding Trip

Times Is changed, boys, since was a
young fellow. Pm eighty, now, and I've
seen considerable living. When 1 was
twenty-one the deer used to come out of
the woods youder and eat my buckwheat
ana used to go out with my rifle and
shoot 'em down to save it. Vension is
scarce now, but you couldn't coax hun
CRY man to eat it then if he could get any
tning else, 1T was so common. Ask Aunt
Martha If that isn't SO. As for doipgs,
they're all altered. Everything is fine as
hvepence now. We had to put with
common fixings then, tell you. Now
that big wedding down at Dadenhammer
yesterday. Aunt Martha and L, we went
All the house was fixed up with stuffed
furniture, and there were things to eat, 1
didn't know the names of; and four mu-
slcians from the city to play for them to
dance, and after the wedding there was
carriage to take the young folks to the
railway depot for what they called their
tour, and wagon behind, bless you, with
the brides trunks, as big as houses, every
one OF 'em. Thatwas my Martha's niece.
that bride was; and when Martha was
married she went on dlfferennt kind of
tour
| mean to tell all about it while I'm
talking, though she says the young peo-
pie will think she wasn't a bit genteel.
Genteel isn't my bother, anyway-never
was. Give me up and down just what
you are worth-no airs.
We didn't take any in those times. We
we're 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 were married.
Peter Grimes fiddled for us, and we had
corn-cake and chicken, and sweet cake
and coffee, and light biscuits and plum
sas, and fried pork for supper; and the
parsonl he ate as hearty and laughed as
loud as any of us-though when it came
to dancing, of course he wasn't there;and
after we'd danced until morning, Martha
and started for home. L had 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 furnishing bee before and
all my folks and all hern had give us
something; but Grandmother Smith had
fetched over feather bed for present
to Martha-and now says she:
"Put it in the wagon, Blucher, and 1T
will be 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.
off we went.
For considerable time bad plenty to
coaxing Martha to cheer up, telling her
that she could go home as often as she
eljked; and pretending to scold her, though
wasn't angry, for a girl who loves her
own folks, and is good daughter, Is sure
to be good wife.
But, after awhile, she cheered up, and
as we rode along in the gray dawn, just a
little mister than night, she said:
''I'm so sleepy, that think l shall just
cuddle down ia the feathers and take a
nap"
dDo it," said 1 from my perch.
So, after while, spoke to her with
out turning my head, and she didn't
answer.
"Sound asleep, poor little chicken"
thought L, and driv on.
1t was 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 be-
fore your face, and still she was sound
asleep, thought, and was glad she
should have such rest. But when we'd
come to the top of the hill, and 1 could
see our little house, could not stand it
any longer. felt as if I'd like to have
her take the first peep along with me.
"Marthp' [ shouted, turning around
on the high seat, "Dartha, wake up, las
sic! We can see our house from here"
But there / stopped short, and thought
l should die. Martha wasn't there.
Neither she nor the feather bed was on
the cart-it was just empty.
She'd fallen off offsomewhere-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 swamp
in parts was deep enough to drown
in.
1 couldn't stop to drive back slow and
careful. | jumped down, leaving old
Jed to take care of himself, and away l
flew back into the woods, calling
"Martha! Martial" and feeling about as L
went, but nobody answered.
tell you, boys, it was dreadful hour
for me, / almost tainted, or got BIT, or
something before got through the
woods to the marsh. But there-there l
lust stopped, and being SO scared had
made SO nervoGs, that / burst out
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
III,
blue 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
crossl
"Pm going back to ma," sobbed she
across the mud. eff you'd cared for me,
YOU could not have lost me Oft"
"Oh, Martha~ said L, but she wouldn't
look at me.
went into the mud and brought her
out, and then went for the wagon and
got out poor Grandmother Smiths
feather-bed, and then We went home. lt
wasn't a pleasant ending to the wedding,
1 can tell you. But after Martina had
cried an hour or two she began to get
over it, and at last she told me how 1t all
happened, as far as she knew.
She fell so sound asleep that she dreamt
she was at home, and the old lady cal
ling her to get up and get breakfast, and
said she to herself in her sleep, "lTss
very cold this morning." and turned
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'
After that she owned up it was some
her fault, and we made up, didn't we
Mortha0 and STAYED so, but that was my