Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1881-08-04
Why His Hair Turned Whito

Why His Hair Turned White.
A rough looking man! Yes, perhaps 1
am. We amt all of us responsible for our
outside husk, no more than horsechestnut
or hazolnut is TIE kind Of life [ lead
can't bo lived in white kid gloves aud dress
coats. | wasn't brought up with many ad-
vantages, and I'm only brakeman on the
Rensselaer, u Saratoga line. Old Jones
was telling you about mc, was he, sir? He'd
better hold his tongue. There's more
profitable subjects of conversation than
am. But old Jones means well enough, and
if ho told you to ask mo how that stripe Of
white hair came on my black manc, | aiu't
the man to go back On him. Oh. you
needn't beg my pardon, sir! don't mind
talking about it now, though tho timo was
whenI couldn't speak Of il without big
lump coming in my throat.
I'VE hadn't been married long, Polly aud
ME. when it happened. Polly was as trim
and bright eyed slip of q girl as ever
you'd wish to see. She was one of the
mattresses in the Albany !irch room; mud
the jrst tmo [ c7er set eyes upou her
made up my mind to make that girl my
wife. So, when they raised my wages,
took heart and asked her if she would have
them with me, with wedding ring thrown
into tho bargain.
"Do you really mean it, Jakc?" said she,
looking me fully in the face, with those
dark blue eyes Of hers, that arc liAo skies
in the night.
"Thcn," said she, putting both her hands
into mine "1' trust van Two no living
relative to advise mo, so can only take
counsel with my heart"
SO wo were married. rented little
ono story house, under the hill on the
height that overlooked the IIudson-a
cozy place, with good sized wood pile at
the rear, for wiutcr meant winter in those
parts, and the snow used to be drifsed up
even with our door yard fence many and
many cold gray morning Aud every &.
thing went smooth until Polly began to
object to my mates at the White Blackbird,
and the Saturday evenings spent with tho
boys, after my train was safely run on the
side track at the junction
"Wby, Polly, girl" said I, "whero's
the harm! A man can't live by hiuscl
like an oyster in its SHE'LL und social glass
never yet harmed any one"
"No," said Polly, "not a social glass,
Jake, but the habit. And if you would
only put every five cent picoo tlat you
spent for liquour into our little b critics
tiny savings bank
"Pshaw" said I, "I'm not druukard,
and | never mean to become one. And
no ono likes to be prcschcd to by his wife,
Polly. Remember that, my girl. and
you'll save yourself deal of trouble"
I kissed her and vent away. But that
was the beginning of the little, grave shad.
ows that grew on my Poly's face, like
creeping fog over tho hills, and that she has
never got rid of since,
1t was sore point between us--nhat
the politicians call vcxcd question.
felt that Polly was always watching me;
and J. didn't wish to be put in leadiug
strings by woman. Sol shame to saw
it went to the Whito Blackbird of,cner
than ever, and | didn't often count the
glasses of beer that drank, and once or
twice, of particularly, cold night, | let
myself be persuaded into drinking some
thing stronger than beer; and my brain
wasn't tho kind that could stand liquid fire
with impunity. And Polly cried, and l
lost my temper, and-well, don't like to
think of al! these things now. Thank
goodness, they are over and gone.
That afternoon, as I stood on on the back
platform, With my arms folded and my eyes
fixed on the snowy waste of fiat fields
through which the iron track seemed to
extend itself like an endless black serpent,
1 looked my own lifo in tho faoe. I made
up my mind that hud been behaving like
brute.
"What are these scnselcss fellows at the
White Blackbrd to me-" muttered I, "as
compared with one of Polly's sweet. bright
looksy will give the whole thing up.
III draw the limo just hero now. We shall
be off duty early to night. I'll 90 home
and astonish PollyH
But as night fell, the binding drift Of o
great snow storm came with it. Wo were
belated by the enow which colIoc cd on the |
rails, and when wo reached EardaIo there
was little girl who had been sent on in
the care, of the conductor, who must wait
either three or four hours for q way train
in tho cold and chcercss station, or be
taken homo across a snowy field by somo
one who knew the way.
/ thought of my own littlo children.
"l'll take her." said land lifting her up,
/ gathered my coarse, warm coat about her,
and | started for the long, cold walk under
the whispering pines along tho cjgo Of The
river.
] honestly believe she would have frozen
to death if she had been Icf. in the cold