Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1880-07-08
THE AGENTS STORY.
A Leaf from an Adjuster's Diary.

NHN NSl|OS AhoAA AoAASNA iAtOOA
miles back of the hills, and ;
mighty rough road, stranger
A short chat with a livery maj
settled the consideration of /;
pair of horses and driver, ant
through the valleys, up ant
down long hills along the beds
of creeks the rough and wind
ling way was slowly travcrsed
Across the Monongahela
where long bridge marks the
spot where a Rebel Genera
gave up his life for the Confed.
eracy, through a creek, where
OH its banks, rest both the blue
and the gray in a dreamless
sleep, and into the timbered
hills again for a few miles until
an older settled country was
named as the Clay District
AT some distance ahead could
be seen a couple of large stone
chimneys, all that was left of q
once happy home. Driving up
to the ruins, an old, gray-head-
ed man, bowed down with over
eighty years of life's pilgrimage
was seated upon the crumbling
stones of the old foundation.
'1s this Mr.. Righter?" asked
the adjuster; "my name is -;
l am the adjuster of the -
Insurance Company" "What
was the cause of the fire, did
you say?" queried the old man.
"I'll tell you. You see 1 am
troubled with rheumatic, and
sometimes can't sleep, and that
morning | got up raal arly-
must have been nigh onto four
O'Clock. I was lying on the
lounge when sort of flash lit
up the room, and / allowed it
were lightenin'. In a few min
utes I heard a cracking noiso
and smelt fire. / hobbled up
and woke my wife, and then l
thought how to get my mother
out" "Your mother?" asked
the adjuster, in surprise. eyes,
stranger, my old mother is still
living. When we get over to
my sons house, just across this
field, I'll show her to you. She
was one hundred years old last
April. Well we got her out all
right, and then my wife thought
of some money in our room, ,and
went back to get it, and l never
seed her agin. She went in the
house right there, and," point
ing to spot near the old CHM
ney, "there's where we found al
that was left of her-just a hand
ful of burned bones. / don't
care any thing apout the money
or the insurance. | hated to
see the old house go; but my
wife" and the tears trickled
down the furrowed checks of
the sad old man, and the an
guish of his soul would not be
stayed.
Recovering himself the old
man continued:
"'Pears like we had every
thing we wanted in our old age;
we had built the new part to the
old house, and was right snugly
fixed, but / allowed the good
Lord knew what was best. l
don't know but / was like the
man in the Scripter who 'had
goods laid up for many days.
and perhaps my wife was snd-
kenIy taken away to learn me a
lesson. 1t is a hard lesson,
stranger, and somehow or other
| can't get reconciled; but,"
said the old man, as his faith
shone through his tears: I" the
Lord gave, and the Lord has
taken away, blessed be the
name of the Lord l can't
hardly say it yet; perhaps byI
and by it won't be so hard"
Leaving the ruined home the
house of his son was reached,
and there, reclining upon. a
lounge, was the old mother.
The venerable family Bible re-
corded Sarah Bigelow, born A
pril 80, 1880, and further on
gives the date Of her marriage
April 20, 1895. The birth of |
her first born is put down April
l, 1896, and he is the sorrowing
old man of my story. The old
lady sits up occasionally, but
has to be fed like an infant.
Her face and hands looked as if !
the flesh had shrunk away from
the veins, which, with their blue
outlines, stand out amid the
multitudinous wrinkles clear and
distinct.
Part of the burned house was
where the old lady and her hus-
band commenced life together,
and here all her children were
born. The old man said: 81 al
lowed l should stay in the old
house until they carried me