Sharp County record., 1878-02-15
THE WEDDING OF THE CEDARs

9" say, PassOn! Passon, 1 say!"
1t was someone calling after me, as
J walked rapidly one day along The
streets Of the city in the Southwest,
which was then my home. / turned,
and saw that it was none other than
Squire Surge, the very last man in all
that region who, as / had thought,
would have wanted any thing of me. |
waited, wonderingly, as he hurried after
me, putting and blowing, for he had
hailed me from q considerable distance
and with such a vigor Of lungs as to ar
rest the attention of all the passers-by.
The Squire was by far the oldest man in
all chat section. He had shot deer and
bears and had fought the Indians there
for so many years before civilization az
rived that, in point of age, the State
might be considered a sort Of grand
child Of .Ihe yanGrshle frQnbjeergyql}lap
the ladies' 10 Ially W lli,'
DJmmg hS long w-e he had never
known any ching other than his rough
way of living. He was ingrained there
with as an aged oak would be with its
gnarledness--Was in fact, ga charac-
ter.
II was coming to see you, Passon," "
the old Squire said, when he joined me
"and size told me | must fix up first.
But what is the use? / happened to see
YOU going along, and it will save q
mighty deal Of trouble to tell you about
it now, so as not to have to fix up at all.
Can you guess what it is ! want with
you!'
could not. The. Squire took off his
dilapidated old hat, which looked as if
he had worn if through half a century
of storms, in order to look upon me
with the more triumph. Except a ring
of long white hair, his head was bald
and far from clean; his bronzed cheeks
were stubby with q coarse beard; the
corners of his mouth we're yellow with
the ooze of his tobacco and, although
he was broad-shouldered enough and
not without an aspect of sturdiness,
there was an aroma of bad whisky about
him whichywas in keeping with his ap-
peara1sG as being an extremely old and
pssscfiarly disagreeable person, an mn
preston which was not improved by The
oaths which were as natural to him as
his breathing.
II am Y year old And now guess"
he said, replacing his hat and laying
hold upon the lapel Of my coat. Bot |
could not.
s'I have been married three t'nts,
he continued, with increa gpg 4 uergy.
"My wives are all dead futNfy chill
dren and their childrep Rud t6eir chill
dren's chiIdren-eyer 81 many of them
don't know how many-are scattered
all over the State half 2 dozen States
Can you guess now what / want of you?
Come, give a try"
The conundrum was beyond my
power.
"Perhaps you want me to preach
your funeral" / ventured, the rough
ness of the joke being adapted to that Of
the questioner.
ssNot muchl No, sir" he replied,
abandoning my collar to seize upon my
hand. "You ain'tsmart enough, smart
a5 you think yourself, sir. Nary man
i'm this town is smart enough by a long
shot to guess what want with you.
What I waHtyou to do is to marry me,
sir" he said, with an energy increasing
with every sentence. "To marry me
tomorrow night, sir. To marry me at
her house, sir. 70 marry me, sir, to
Mrs. McGregor!"
The enthusiasm of my aged friend cul.
minated upon the last announcement, a,
well it might. Mrs. McGregor! wa.
almost a boy myself in those days, nac
just got through reading Sir Waltel
Scott, and this !ast-named lady was &c
NE as if she had stepped out of one o
those volumes into real life. l have no
the least idea of how old she then was
nor had any one else. She was white