The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1883-08-30
A LUCKY MISTAKE,

"Tom," said my father to me, one
cold November afternoon, rs we stood in
The flag paved hall of our old-fnslfioncd
farmhouse, "you'd better put the little
hay marc in the dog-car and go into
Worthington for that saddle. I clean
forgot to call for it yesterday, and if YOU
want to so out with the hounds on
Saturday, You won't have another chance
Of getting it."
1 was nothing 10th to act upon the
parental suggestion, although it meant
long drive in the biting cold, and al
though the return journey would have
been done in the dark or with very in
different moonlight. We were utterly
isolated at the Mistlctoc Farm for we
were seven miles from WorthinGton, our
nearest town, and ten miles in the op-
posite direction, from the nearest rail
way station. The little BAY mare that I
was going to drive was young one of
our own breeding, clever as a cat and
docile as dog. From her infancy she
was my playfcllow; would come to me
when I whistled to her, eat out of my
hand or my pocket; and when tho time
came for backing her and breaking her,
there was nothing to be done. She had
had perfect confidence and trust in us all,
and especially i'll me the cat by the fire
side could not be more gentle Or more
easy to control.
She was world too good for harness,
I thought to myself as | led her out of
the stables and proceeded to put her to
the old fashioned, square dog cart,
which turned up behind, and looked like
a mail cart-baring the color, which
was dingy gray. The little mare was
my hunter when my hounds were within
reach and my father would let mo go;
and she carried me as gamcly, even after
twenty milcss of harness the day before,
rs if she was one of the Squirc's cracks
and went out only once week.
AS we trottcd quietly down the drive,
my father put his head over the hedge
and called to me:
"Mayhe the saddle won't be Finished"
he said, his red face glowing with the
cold, his eyes glancing critically at the
mare. ." If so, you can put up Mt the
Angel and have your tea; but don't be
later than you can help. Have you got
your watch on you?"
eyes," said, wondering at the ques,
ton.
"You'd better give it to me-" said my
father, stretching his arm over the
hedge. 81 heard yesterday, at the or
Gnary, there was q gentleman stopped
III Monday night on the road. You
haven't got too much money on you,
suppose ?"
ono danger" said T, with laugh, MS
[ put my watch and chain into my
fathers big, brown hand. "They won't
get much out of Inc if they try Il on"
And off wo went, turned into the high
road, and sped Mt Il quick trot through
the gathering twilight in the direction
Of Worthin9ton.
1t was dark when we reached !he out.
skirts of the little town, and the lights,
not very brilliant if tried by modern
standards, sparklcd chcerfully enough in
INC windows. Past tho blacksmith
i0rgc, with the great bellows roaring and
me sparks flying from tic glowing lin.
dcrS; past the butchers Nth q poolly
display OF some our bcsi Decf: past the
6roccrs, where the ha!fdOzon children
VINO were tlattcning .heir noses against
the pancs turned to look Mt us: ana so
clatterlng over the uneven cobblcs of thC
| pavement, to the saddlcr's shop. TN,
| proprietor himself, staid and DOrtl,
person, conscious of the Importance
which attaches to his position in n corm
try town. came out and nodded n greet
| ing.
"a cold night, Mr. Tom" said he
with shiver, as the wind took his
apron: I'm not quito ready for you
Your father didn't come in yesterday. sc
| though You wouldn't want the saddle
| till next week."
81 want it for Saturday," said T
leaning sideways ont of the trap. "Tht
hounds ore at the cOppice, and the Iitt!;
mare and are going. Can you do it j
Iput up?"
The saddicr thought for a moment.
cay, I can do that, he said at length
"Will you call in between eight ant
nine and it shall be ready for you?"