Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1882-09-27
Now you don't say ?-so!'
"That was q way he had of tackin' 80
On 70 Aho o,,.l ~ l,;n .,o.l.

CHOW you don't say ?-sor
"That was q way he had of tackin' 80
on to the end Of his words.
"'Now, Hitty,' says he, wipin' his
bald head, they do say as how you an
Simon are keepin' pretty steady cou-
pany. You'll be wantin' fine weddin'
gown sure. Now, you let me hev Daisy
fur fifty dollars an you can git a good
settin' out for't-so!
$50 You must spend considerable time
talkin' bout your neighbors to find out
so much, says I, yexed enough; for
twas known old FELTON, was q req lar
Paul Pry. Now, squire, you've asked
me before to sell my COW, but I saw once
an fur all, I will not sell Daisy. IN
keep her as long as she lives
"He LATED, kind of smooth chuckle:
but be looked black enough. He was
an oily sort of man, but jist stand in bis
way once, and it didn't take much to see
the emoothness was just veneer.
sid always claimed Daisy for my
own, an nobody home had gainsaid me.
The boys an mother always spoke of
her as Hitty's COW, an it Civ me a
troubled feelin' when father says one
evening:
"'Ive had wonderful offer to-day.
The old squire said he'd give seventy
five dollars fur my leetle cow
1.-The squire won't get a,ay Daisy =
cried, my voice all of tremble. i've
told him I won't sell her. It's Just
wicked of him to be comm round askin'
you! Then I began to cry, I was So
| worried.
"Father lighted his pipe without say.
ing a word. He never talked over what
he meant to do.
81 was worried an miserable fl +
several days. knew seventy-five dol.
lars was all uncommon price fow COW,
| an l knew fathers hankerin' after
gettin'. But when the week had gone.
| an nothin' more bin heard about the
squire's offer, began to breathe freer
an think mebbe I'd made myself miser-
able fur nothin'.
Saturday night I went early to
bring up the COWS. I always en- Joy ed
goin' down to the pasture. always was
regular country body, fond of trees an
rocks an grass an brooks an plenty of
sky stretchin' overhead, an Just ed
follerin' the cow-path that never ran
straight, an stoppin' on the planks to
look down into the brook that was so
clear, you could see the stones on the
bottom an the minDows hashin' here an
there.
"lt he'd bin nice day, clear an
bright an bracin' outside, an smooth
an pleasant in the house. We he'd got
along brisk with the work, an Simon
was comm at seven O'Clock to take me
to singin'- school, an had new red rib
bons to wear, and so was jest con- ent
az need be, an sung away as I wa)b ed
along out Of sheer good, healthy feelin'.
The pasture-lot the cows was in that
day was four-acre field, with woods AN
rocks behind it, an fences of tree .stumps
round the two sides. Part of it was
poor, swampy ground, an lots of milk
weed an thistles grew where twas higher
up. The co1s stood waitin' by the bars
all but Daisy, an I didn't see her DO
where's. There was the other four an
the two heifers, but Daisy wa Mt around.
ut was uncommon of her to stray off.
but thinkin' she might be back in the
woods, l called an called, but she gave
10 answer. Then 1 seen father comm
behind me.
"'Where can Daisy be?" says I !; scan
she hev got down in the bog, father?"
He opened his iack-knife and began
to white chips of the post. Il don't
suppose you can see her. says he, fur
the reason that I've sold her to the
squire, an she's bin in his pastur' since
mornin'. Now, Hltty, don't be d fool |!
Here's five-dollar gold piece fur you.
81 never can put into words my feel
ms then. I felt crushed-like, as if I
couldn't breathe, an then again, SET ms
as it could scream an set the woods
a-rmgin'. remember there was bum
ble-bee buzzin' in a tall thistle close by,
an to this very day sometimes when I
hear one boomin' round, I think of the
pasture, an me standin' there wretched
an heart-broken, an father Within the
post.
''The next minute I took the money
he'd dropped into my hand an flung it
clean off over into the lott heard it
ring again stone-then went home to
mother.
'That was forty-four years ago, child,
but I've an ache in my heart to this day
LUZ 1uc DIOhcu-ueaICeQ CfeeCur L was
then.
"I'm afeard cherished grudge agin
the squire even after he was laid in his
grave, but bein' we're the best Of us i'm
perfect creeturs, as l grow older ] feel
It's best to he forgivin', so as an outside
sign that in my last days I harbor no
bard feelin', I've called this pretty crit n
Daisy, an if you'll b'Iieve it, she favors
my old Daisy"
Aunt Kitty smiled as she wiped her
eyes. Then she folded the overalls and
placed them in her basket. They're
most done, dear, an now must 90 see
to my waf1es. Its so lucky bein' you're
here, that I've set emp
" But. Aunt Hitty." 1 asked, as rose
to follow her into the CHEEKY kitchen,
"what kind of luck did that miserable
squire have with Daisy?"
"Bad enough, child. The poor crit
ter one day, through bis VERY own care
lessness, got into the meal bin an ear so
heavy of the feed that it killed her.
cried like baby fur the poor beast
when I heerd of it.
Whereat answered, it was righteous
retribution for the squire, Aunt H,tty.'