The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1881-09-24

cradle property and social position, she
was allowed to exercise her privilege
to her hearts content. A tongue like
forked lightning, when occasion re-
quired. but u heart o'erhowing with
love for the struggling and suffering.
Cyrus Deane shifted his hoe uneasily.
81 don't see heow you make it eout
thet I'm agoin' any faster n other folks.
hain't done nothin' to disobleege you
tibet | know OFF,
"You know what mean. l was up
to Jerry's last night She gave him
another steady look from those Rhada-
manthus-like glasses. His gaze fell be-
fore hers.
81 hain't pizened none o Jerry's
critters, nor sot his barn fire, hev I?'
you've pizened his peace O. mind.
You've wore him eout with worry, till
he's walkin' ghost. | set great store
by LOUSY Ann, l do, and when | see
her a.gittin' that fit o. high-stericks
last night, all along o. your hardness
and scrinchin' meanneSs, | come as
nigh bilin' over as ever | did in my
life! Your own brother, Cyrus Deanel
The little, curly-headed chap that,
like enough, slep' on the same pillow
your mother ha' thought. eff she'd ha'
knowed heow different you d turn outP"
Cyrus Deane drew down his bushy
eyebrows, and gave an energetic kick
to q small bowlder.
"Jerry's he'd ez good a chance to git
along ez me. We started even. It's
his own look-eout! He ha mt no hand
to manage-never was never could git
fore-handed in his born daysn'
1.-The more reason why you ought to
be merciful. He h1int he'd ez good
chance Ell you. The year that your
barns was groanin' an runnin' over,
his wheat got the weeyil, an his corn
kctched the mildew. His cattle died,
an his tools was stole. He laid sick
with rheumatic fever, and he'd a doc
tor bill of $50 to pay. Do you call
that ez good chance ez yours? LOUSY
Ann works ez hard ez any woman
cookin', an cleanin', and grubbin' -
an never he'd the fust scrap o. hired
help, cept for eleven days, when Cissy
was a baby-an she never gifts
ride in a bran-new buggy, nuther"
casting a keen glance toward the
wagon-shed.
Cyrus mopped his beaded brow with
a red cotton handkerchief, and took up
his hoe with a determined air, as if to
end the conference.
II hain't ben harf as hard on him ez
some folks would ha' ben. I've gin
him time, an gin him time, till my
patience is clean tuckered eout, an he
keeps a-falin' behind instid O. gittin'
forrard. He's younger'n | be, he kin
90 Westn'
Miss Mahala took off her shaker"
and shook out the cape, Strengthened
out the bow, and set it on her head
again, then said, in slow, measured
! tones:
MAY the Lord hev mercy on your
soul, Cyrus Deane! IF He measured 1t
eout to you Ell you do to other folks,
you d hev precious little to be thankful
fer
She walked slowly down the road,
and Cyrus went on with his hoeing He
| didn't consider himself q hard man.
Honest, outwardly he was, as Jerry
had said, but "war to the knife to get
| his own" In two short weeks he could
! foreclose the mortgage, and jerry
little place would be his own. Would
| he do it? Miss Mahala's words were
veIjuice to his cOnscience-for a brief
minute nObler feelings strOve with his
greed of gain, then. dashing down the
! hoe
"No! Gosh durn it! Jewy's got to
look eout fer himself He's a grown
man not II baby. Why can't tibet
cussid old vinegar-face mind her own
| business?'
In the afternoon he drove to the next
town in his new buggy. A little ilossy-
haired girl ran out from a neck in the
woods, and cried:
"Man-man-take me a little ride,
do please
He refined up the horse, and helped
the little creaturein. Cyrus Deane had
one soft spot in his heart-it was for
little tiny children. No prattling lips
had ever called him Gather 1t
would have been better for those he
had to deal with had it been otherwise.
"And whose little gal be You, pray.
out here in the woods alone?" he
asked.
Pm Cissy Deane, and mamma lets
me go to the big rock by myself, cause
l know the way" She looHed up and
gave a little howl. "Let me out! Oh,
let me out! You're bad, dreadful
man! You're the man that made my
papa cryn'
She scrambled down, and, shaking her
tiny fist at the buggy, stamped her
foot, and ran away.
A bitter look came into Cyrus Deune' s
face. "My own brothers yOungster-
an never would ha' knowed her ef
she hadn't told me her name. She'll
hate me, too, like as not"'
He whipped up his horse, and drove
! ON rnn-llN Entn seemed lntprninnl 10