The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1883-10-18

seventy years old, she was erect as
an Indian, and give ons tho impression
OF greRt physical power. Her iron-erav
hair grew low over her forehead, and
was gathered into great, rough-look
ing knot at the buck Of her head, and Sc
cured i'll its place by n brass comb. Her
complexion was swarthy, and her darl,
eyes were shndcd by darker brows which
almost met above her prominent aouil.
Inc nose. Her lips closed firmly. and
her whole face had an expression of un-
speakable sadness.
"Friends and neighbors," she began:
and oil at once 1 found myself smiling
as observed many others doing. Never
| before did human countenance so quickly
transform its expression. The dark
eyes twinkled, the corners of the mouth
gave humorous curl, the lips parted in
speech revealed double row OF perfect
natural teeth, cleaning with drollery,
was the whole changed physiognomy
and laughter-provoking.
"Friends and neighbours; Seem as how
MIR. Evans has sort o. give out that I'm
the herowine O. this tale O. terror, marble
1t would sound better for someone else
to tell it. So much by way of preface.
| cit was Benjamin Nyfer's child that
was lost, Ben started one mornin' in
October to get aome gtindin' done.
There was no mill nearer than the one
on Taylor's Fork, twelve milee off, and
the way roads was then, it would take
him away long into the night to get
home. That little boy O his'n, just five
year old, took notion to go long, but
his Pa wouldn't let him. He whipped
the poor little fellow in the mornin for
| cryin' to 60; but when he started the
child just follered the wagon and bawlcd
to be took in. The othor young ones
told mo that; and that precious mother
o his'n, instead of cOaxin' him into the
house and fryin' him dough horse, and
twlstin' him five or six yards of tow
string for drivin' lines, just went on
about her work, and paid no 'tcntion to
him till he was clean ont o sight. Long
toward noon Mary Ann Nyfer, tho Oldest
gal, came over to my house, lookin' real
scairt and said Sammy was lost. He'd
follered Pa ways in the mornin' and
hadn't came back. says right away:
"'Hc's all right. Your fathers give
in to his ycllin' 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 lost.
81 went home with her, and found
Luke Wilson there. We three families
lived purity cloast-all within mile.
Luke thought just RS 1 did, that Nyscr
had took the boy along, but the mother
and Mary Ann seemed to doubt ii
Wilson said he'd go down the road, anf
stop at Fell's and Har1er's-maybcl littl
Sam had stopped to play. Well, II,
didn't find him, and the good fcller hoofcd
it on Till he met Nyfer, three or fou
miles this side of the Fork. There wa,
no Sammy with him. He said the chill,
had turned back at the big shinglc-trc.
stump, about a mile from home.
"When Ben druv up to his house,
there was quite n company of the neigh,
bors there waitin' to nee II he had the
boy. A sarch was started that night
with lanterns and KEEP up till mornin'.
Word was sent fur an near, and bcfor,
noon the next day three townships wcr,
Oh the hunt. Horns was blowed, bells
rung, and the poor baby's name called
IN hundreds of voices. The woods and
swamps was secured and every brush
heap and holler log peeked into.
"The sarch lasted another night and
another day, till in the afternoon
some begun to give out, myself among
the number l went home and throwed
myself onto my bed with my clothes ON,
and slept as I'd never slept before,
About ten o'clock that evenin' I woke up
sudden, just rs wide awake rs I am this
minute. My. mind seemed uncommon
| clear and quick. THAT child can't be
fur away I thought. He's been with
tho rest to the huckleberry swamp this
summer. The trail lcadin' TO the swami
leaves the main road not fur from t. +.
shinglc tree stump. I'd often heard
that lost children would never answer
when called, but ut night, when
every hing was quiet, they'd cry and
| make noise. 1t seemed as though the
hull kentry had been well sarched, but |
| 'till believed he was stickin somcwhcrcs
in that huckleberry marsh.
| "Now, L don't want anybody to think
| [ was herOwine, for [ wasn't. I think
felt more'n common sorry for Rachel
| Nyfer, because I'd had n dislike to her
Tor quite spell. 1t growcd out of IN
Egg trade. / wanted n scttin' of goose.
| eggs; she had some, and said she'd let
me have n dozen for two dozen hens
| eggs. Well, we traded, and s'pOscd it
was all right, till one LAY she come over
and said she thought she orter have
| about another halfdozcn eggs; for she'd
opened a goose-egg shell and then broke
two hens eggs irtoit, and it wasn't quite
full. 'Twould have held easy half an
other egg! Icountcd ont six eggs, and
she lv3gcd 'em home; then I told Miss
Luke Wilson and one or two other
women that [ was purity thick with, and
we made no end of fun about it whenever
we got together.
"I didn't like the general make up Of
the woman. She had five purity children,
Dut she didn't seem to take no kind O
comfort with 'em; just pushed 'em one
tide and druv ahead with her work.
She and Nyfer both seemed to think all
the duty they owed their young ones
vas to make 'em mind from the word
20, and dig away like all possess, to
make property for 'em. But was there
that evenin' when Ben came home with
ont the boy, and [ saw 'em stand and
look in each others faces, like the end Of
he world had come, and neither one
,ould help the other. Then she went
,bout putin a bit Of supper onto the