Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1883-10-14
The Widow Iockerv.
Anoeline Teal.

Angelina Teal
| made her acquaintance at an old settlers
reunion. The club, which held its yearly
meetings at Gershoni, was composed of the
surviving pioneers of 1899. All persons who,
either as adults or children, had settled in
| the district covered by the organization pre-
vious to or within that year were entitled to
| enrolment.
was spending the summer with a friend
who called herself an old settler by mar
rage Her husband, Col. Hugh Hastings,
had come into the wilds with his parents at
| the age of > years, and so had grown up with
| the country in a literal sense. They lived at
Barhan station, on the line Of the one rail
road which traversed the county. Gershom,
the county was six miles distant.
1t was arranged On the morning of the re-
union that my friend Marian and should
drive over early with the children and spend
the entire day. The colonel kept q saddle
horse, and would follow in the afternoon.
We started in tie dew, yet when we
! reached Gcrshom the village was all astir.
at 10 O'Clock the beautiful picnic grounds on
the banks of ShoEobee lake were swarming
with the population of many townships. The
old settlers proper were not @ numerous
| band. but their assemblies had come 20 be
gaia days with the entire community.
Passing among the groups gathered here
and thera, one caught bits OF char
acteristic talk A group Of men were
| discussing wheat prospects. They seemed
| to belong to that class IN whom
the uncertainty of the farmers hope
| had bred a condition Of chronic foreb0ding.
| One said the wheat was too strong, and
would all be lodged" before harvest. An
other thought the recent heavy rains would
produce rust in the stalk" A third pre-
dictedl hot, dry time, that would cause it 10
IRE at the root"
How does your wheat look, Dave"
The question was asked OF tall, stoop-
shouldered fellow, who had been listening to
the rest and saying nothing.
''Derned f I know" was the reply. 'T
sowed it in good time and good style last
fall, and hain't looked at it since. Lool1in'
does no good, nor croakin,' nuther."
The president OF the club then asked how
many in the assembly had any personal re-
collection Of q two,iays' hunt for a lost
child in the autumn Of IL.
ANSWER Sunday school fashion," said he,
and about half dozen hands went up.
is the Widow Lockery here?' he next in
quired.
Il reckon she is" came the answer in
womans voice from somewhere in the
| crowd.
"Mrs. Lockery,n continued the president,
''found the lost child, and if she will tell US
| ell about it, 1, for one. will be much pleased.
I have vague impression Of the terror which
the hunt produced and the excitement it
aroused in ny childish mind but I do not
remember that ever heard the occurrence
| fully described by any one who took part in
| the search"
He glanced again in the direction whence
came that prompt response, and sat down.
A tall, straight woman rose from her seat,
walked slowly down the aisle between the
| rude benches and took position facing the
| people. She seemed in no hurry to begin
her story, but deliberately took of her
starched bonnet and laid it on the grass be-
side her She was the most remarkable per-
sonage I had seen that day. Though
/ fully 20 years old, she was erect as
an Indian. and gave one the impression Of
. great physical power. Her iron-gray hair
/ grew low over her forehead, and was gathered
! into great, rough-looking knot at the back
! of her head, and secured in its place by
/ brass comb. Her complexion was swarthy,
/ brows which almost met above her prominent
/ aquiline nose. Her lips closed firmly, and
! her whole face had an expression of unspeal,-
able sadness.
! ''Friends and neighbors," she began; and
! al at once found myself smiling, as I OBJ
served many others doing. Never before did
human countenance so quickly transform its
/ expression. The dark eyes twinkled, the
! the lips parting in speech revealed q double
row of perfect teeth, cleaning with drollery,
! and the whole changed physiognoIny was
! laughter-provoking.
'Friends and neighbors: Seem as how Mr.
/ Evans has sort o give out that I'm the hero
/ wine o this tale O terror, maybe it would
sound better for some one else to tell it." So
/ much by way of preface.
''It was Benjamin MYERS child that was
! lost Ben started one nornin' in October to
t get some gTindin' done. There was no mill
| nearer than the one on Taylors fork. twelve
! miles off, and the way roads was then it would
/ take him away long into the night to
/ get home. That little boy @ hiS'n, just 5
! year old, took a notion to go long, but his pa
1 wouldn't let him. He whipped the poor lit
! tie fellow in the mornin' for cryin' to go; but
wagon and bawled to be took in. The other
| young ones told me that; and that precious
I mother O his'n, instead Of coaxin' him into
| the house and fryin' him dough horse and
/ twistin' him five or six yards of tow string
! for drivin'lines, Just went on about her
work, and paid no 'tention to him TIL he was
clean out O. sight. Long towards noon
/ Mary Ann Nyfer, the Oldest gal, came over
| to my house, lookin' real scairt, and said
! Sammy was lost. He d follered his pa a
ways in the mornin' and hadn't came back.
| 1 says right away:
| "'He 5 all right Your fathers give in to
| his yellin' and took him long
''But the gal shook her head. and re-
| marked:
Father never gives in to nuthin,. He's
| druv him back, and Sammy's lost
81 went home with her and found Luke
Wilson there We three families lived purity
cloast-an within mile. Luke thought
Just as did, that Nyfer had took the boy
along, but the mother and Mary Ann seemed
to doubt it. Wilson said he'd go down the