Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1881-09-01

the twelfth o. Marchp Likely mono ON
US won't never forget it. Wal, didn't
love Pelt Cressy then; / hated him an
as see him that day, foil o. passen-
gers, goin' out o. Selborn, with his spry,
young team, didn't love him no bet
ter. | was cold and cross 1t was an
awful night, an it seemed to grow wuss
an wuss. My! How it tore round on
the top o. Selborn Mountain! An when
we come over Scott's Bridge it seemed
'sif 'twould 60 down every minute.
Wal, l started out considerable
ahead of Pelt from the Halfway; but l
turned up the Ox-Bow, to leave Edithy
Fuller, an when / come iHto the road
ag'in l couldn't tell whether he'd a-gone
on or. not. Twas all could do to git
along 'thout stopping to look fur tracks.
thought, goin' through the old field,
the bosses would give out sure; but
they held out good, an pretty soon we
come onto the straight cut. 1t was g.
tearin' through here like wildcat; but
l sorter thought 1 heerd a cry, an
pulled up mint. Sure enough, it Uas
a cry, an 1 knew twas Pelt. knew
he'd a-run off the bank in the dark an
the storm.
"Wal," continued honest Seth Punk
EFT, his voice growing husky as he came
to the hardest part Of his story, 81 knew
nobody inside o. my stage heerd it. I
knew that when we passed the last house
-Thatcher's, you know-I was ahead o.
Pelt. Nobody could know that he got
ahead while l was up the Ox-Bow. They
wouldn't, or leastways live to tell it, "
and his voice faltered, s'fsr / knew they
| he dvof ii
weak; and calc'late they had fell full
road, an that was enough to a-killed
'em, let alone the storm. So, before l
could make up my mind to jump off, |
stopped a mint, did," said Seth
Plunkett, looking shamefacedly around.
''May the Lord forgive me! An says |
to myself: III drive on. Nobody'u
never know it. It's their own fault.
Let 'em die!'''
| Here, his voice broke, and. he sat
down a moment. Then he rose and
went on: .-f .att.s.4 B..
~" You see, he was my enemy; but l
thought over what I'd been a-hearin' in
these very meetin's about 'lovin' yer
enemies an then it come to me that l
was a-goin' to do jest the same, as to
murder them folks, leavin' 'em to die
so. An twas all like flash,
you know; but I seemed to see
my Hettie, an she seemed to, say Give
heerd her many times, so proud -like)
MY father never did mean thing in
his life,' an bless her! an, wal, got
'em, an you know the rest" And Seth
Plunkett, whose trumpet-like "whoa!''
had often echoed the whole length OF
the village street, sat down, his vast
frame shaking with his sobs and his
voice as soft and tremulous as wom-
ans. s. s...., -.. , t,.. h. g., ....-.
Seth Plunkett found s'peace'' after
this and lived a noble and sef-sacrific-
ing life. And when, a few years later,
Pelt Cressy's parents died, and Pelt took
his Hettie and a little Seth back to the
hill farm, Seth staid much with them
and finally ended there his honest and
honorable career. '-"="nti
The Clearpond stage has long been a
thing of the past. Locomotives whi2
to-day up and down the once quiet val
ley, dragging their noisy trains; but
sometimes, when Hettie Cressy walks
along the village street, the old settlers
think of her father and of the social
crowd at the post-office, with Banty be.
hind the counter and the Judge deliver.
ing his sage opinions at the front, and
they heave sigh of regret for ''the
good old times. IN. Y. independent. -