The Dickinson press., 1883-09-29
Ny Love He Went A.Sailing,

M AUNO llO WCuU A-SNllluSs
1t was lonely little house. and Aunt
Prim lived in it-a lonely little house
tucked under the pines. with its green
eyed ralinus staring down the road, and
its back yard jammed against the noun
tain.
Some women have talent for grow
ing old. Aunt Prim looked as ifshe had
been born so-as if. some way, nature
had varied her usual routine and quar-
ried her out, or dug her up, or rained
her down, Or
Long and narrow, like Barbara Aliens
grave, was Aunt Prim, with frost-bitten
hair and a face that looked like the
brown, withered kernel of nut. Her
cheeks were ditched with wrinkles that
crawled in and across each other like
tangled threads, and there were lines
about her mouth that Time could never
have drawn thEe without calling Trouble
to its aid.
Trouble! If Miss Pamela Burton could
have carried her woes to market and
sold them her wealth could have rivalled
that of the diamond-crested Princess of
Bagdad, who ordered fried angels for
tea! Jack alone, as salable aiilction,
was worth its weight in nuggets. And
as to Jacks dear friends!
Not that she would for one inhuman
minute have dreamed of trading off her
scapegrace, for all lie came home reg,
ularly irregular with twist in his ankles
and un2odly words that ought to have
but did not, blister his tongue; for was
he not the only son Of that only sister
under the gay weeds of u Kentucky
churchyard, and did he not bear the
name of that other Jack at the bottom of
the everlasting seas?
There comes Jack of some sort into
most women's lives, and Aunt Prim had
never forgotten the blue. flannel. clad
lover who had gone down to the sea in
a ship that in its turn had gone down
under it in q storm. He was the one
shining mark in her youth, and death
had loved it. Poor Aunt Prim!
Then after many drab colored years,
Jack had come into her life, lad when
he scamperd off to spade up a fortune in
these Western hills, she found him lad
still, for all he lowered above her like
the pines and his hair was as gray as
granite.
Found him half dead and wholly dis
gusted, with his fortune still under the
ground and himselfso very nearly so
that being white and womanish with
fever, he had clung to her like child
fears the dark; and she, having nothing
better to do with her life, had carried
him away from the little mob of a town
hy,l,(1nI 4
him home and adored him.
If in this progressive world there
breathes woman strong minded
prodigals, Aunt Prim had yet to profit
by her illustrious example-anda a prodi-
ga! with a dimple in his chin!
"Aunt Prim," he said, one wintry
night, as he watched her whiskingabout
the fire with her steak and potatoes and
tea-for Jack was always friendly with
the teapot when he wasn't wild with
whisky-s'it must be no end of dreary
here when am on the tear; why don't
you get married?"
The eyes that Miss Pamela Burton
turned on her nephew looked like the
taste of sassafras tea.
eft it wasn't for them gray hairs of
yours Pd ans Ter that question with my
slipper-marry indeed! Ii it wasn't for
the likes of you DO"
She had said something rash-she
guessed it by the way the red came
swimming up in Eer cheeks; she was
sure of 1T by the suspicious conduct OF
that demoralizing dimple.
| Seems as if your mind was made up
handy enough without my pltchforking
| the idea into your head. | don't say II
nice girl wouldn't be Gods blessing to
me--for it is dreary-but such trash as
blows about Shantyville, miners girls
and dancing jacks and the like"
"She isn'ta miners GIRL" persisted
the prodigal, Indignantly.
"Then she's dancing jack, which is
worse!"
"Draw it mild, old lady," he said,
planting himself at the table and patron-
iaingly patting her on the head, "you
ire sampling the best brand ever bot
tled-she does dance, that's Il fact and
sings like.well, l just wish you could
near singm
Jack Burton!' exclaimed his ancient
misingly virluous tones, "wlen broke
;p tie old home in Kentucky and fol-
lowed you here to-to-tnis, allowed
20 suffer and maybe to die wifi red
SKINS hatchet in my brain, but l did not
calculate to disgrace my old age kicking
up shines in dance house!"
AS if he had even hinted at such a
thing! But that was just like Aunt Prirn
and Aunt Prim was just like every other
woman in tie world
$50 you won't call on Polly?" demand
ed the prodigal, anxiously.
nNn won't call on po1Iv and if shn
dares to call on me Just let her-that's
ail!"
Lonely! There was the black world
all around her, and the big, solemn
mountain, with its hushed cries and ech
oes of the night. There were the dis
| NAL pines shooting up towards the star
less sky, and there was Jack-at least
that was where Jack ought to have been
but Aunt Frim, being resigned TO these
nightly excursions to the giddy metropo-
lis of Sbantyville, was just setting her
self 10 dream comfortably of wildcats
and Indians. when there came sudden
and terrible knocking at the lonely lit
| tie door.
Wildcats and Indiansl Miss Pamela
| Burton had never pictured anything
quiet 80 blood-curdling as that knock,
knock, knocking at the door.
buC tnere IL was, ana there 1t kept up
until, white and quiyering. she crept to
the key-hole and called in the faintest of
voices, "Whose there?"
GA woman
A woman? Aunt Prm was match
for a woman any day; but this was night
"a dark night on desolate road-and,
as discretion is really better than valor
taken all around, Miss Burton resorted
| to the key-hole and cried out iii a trifle
more valorous tone:
Go away-didn't see your coat tails
through chink Ill the door-T