The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1881-05-05

words were music in their ears: each
| smile he gave them had charm; each
frown would fill them with alarm
What envious looks at Susan Stow, his
| favorite scholar they would throw.
Her eyes and hair were dark as night.
her skin was soft and smooth, and
white; peach-liko bloom her cheeks
oversprcad; her lips like cherries, ripe
and red. What wonder he could not
conceal the glad, sweet thrill he use to
feel through all his palpitating frame
whom to his desk she coyly came and,
looking up with eyes of love, like some
sly, timid little dove, would softly ask
him to oxpound some knotty problem
she had found? What being in the world
below seemed half as sweet as Susan
Stow? Her eyes would flash and, in re-
turn, his faco would flush and strangely
burn, and, when he tried to calculate
so me long, hard ''sum" upon her slate.
the figures danced before his sight like
little gobblins, gay and white, and, when
at night, with cheerful face, he started
for his boarding place, what wonder that
he came SO slow in walking homo with
Susan Stow?
The woman crossed the kitchen floor
to meet Lycurgus ut the door, and, with
q scrutinizing star, Q she said: "Walk in
an take chair, an be to homo while
you are here. Come, Busby, take his
things, my dear.
Forth from his corner, by the fire. the
husband came at her desire. His head
was bald, save here and there, stray lit
tic tufts of grizzled hair: his shoulders
stopped, his form was thin, his knees
were bent, his toes turned in: he wore a
long blue flannel frock, gray trousers,
IL tin, OF fall
and queer, was rudcly rumplcd around
each ear; his face was mild, his smile was
bland as forth he put his ponderous
hnnd. and said: 'I think L sec YOU we'll.
l hope you'll stay lectle spell; wero
plain folks here I'd have you know. and
don't go i'll for pride nor show" Then,
after stepping on the cat, he took the
teachers coat and hat; lie hung them on
rusty nail, and, picking up his milking
pail, he slowly shufIlcd out of doors and
went to do the evening chores.
Close by tho frelights cheerful glare
INcurgus drew the easy-chair. The
savOry steam of chickens slain came
from the black pot on tho crane. The
kettles merry song he heard; upon the
hearth the gray cat purrcd; while, by
the chlmney-corncr snug. the house dog
dozed upon the rug. Among the Chin
ney-picce of wood an idle row of fiat
irons stood, two candlcsticks in bright
array, pair of snuffers and q tray. The
tlme-worn clock licked slowly On; it
struck the hours forever gone. "Forcver
gone, 1T seems to say-"Forever gone"
from day to day, in it's tall case OF
somhre hue-'twas fifty years since it
was new. Between the windows, small
II iol, ho o.1o
near by; brazen bird with wings out
spread, perched on the scroll-worl1 over
head; beneath. q shelf, the common home
of family Bible, brush, and comb; above,
from iron hooks were hung long frames,
with apples thickly strung, and, fixed
upon the wall to dry, were wreaths of
pumpkin kept for pie.
Forth from the buttry, to the fire,
came Aunt Rebecca McIntvre. swallow
spinster, somewhat old, whose mellow
age was seldom told her hair was gray,
her nose was thin, it nearly touched her
toothless chin. Life's weary work and
constant care had worn O. face that once
was fair.
Each Sabbath morn, from spring to
spring, within the choir she used to sing,
IN ancient bonnet, cloak, and gown, the
Oldest relics in tho town; beside the
chorister she stood and always did the
best she could, and, while with tuning
fork, he led, she marked his movements
with her head, her nasal voice rose sharp
and queer above the deep-toned yiol
near.
She took the black pot from the crane,
removed the kettle from the chain, and
made the tea and chicken broth, drew
out the table, spread tho cloth; then,
from the table, bright and new, brought
the best china edged with blue.
The chores were done, the feast was
spread all took their seats and grace
was said They ate the savory chicken
stew, SO juicy and so we'll cooked
through; before them, rich round dump
lings swan, on steaming plates,
with cold boiled ham, with feathery
biscuit, warm and light, with currant
jam and honey, white and crowning all
a good supply of yellow, neatly pump
kin-pic. Where such bounteous feast
is found, who would not teach and
"board around?"
The supper done, the father took from
off its shelf, the sacred Book, and read of
one who stilled the sea one stormy night
in Galilee; then, kneeling down before
his chair, he asked the heavenly Shep-
herds care.
Soon from the group, with drowsy
heads, tho children started for their
beds; took off the little shoes they wore,
and left them on the kitchen floor; then,
bidding all fond "good night" with
pattering feet, they passed from sight.
Dear little feet, how soon they stray
from the old farmhouse far away; how
soon they leave the family fold to walk
the shining streets of gold, where every
hope is real and sure; where every heart
is kind and pure; where every dream is
bright and fair, may we meet our
loved ones there!
The farmer left his cozy seat, with
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