The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1884-05-01
BETSY nAMILTON'S LETTER.
Old Miss Green Doc,orlng th. Sick.
.fNdJitd Constellation,

nobody that's sick dyin' for the want Of
company in this settlement; but sigh,
of 'em has pegged out from havin' toe
much. It's the talk now that that's vha,
kilt old Marthy Skipper, and | know in
reason it helpt off old Ridony Rountree
for they crowded in thar in gangs and
droves tho Sunday afore she died, aud
the women folks all thought they had tc
do sumpen for her, and she never lasted
no time after they sot TO work on her
After they had done all the dovilmen,
they could dostin' of her, then they
turned in and sent after the dock, but il
was too late. Some of 'em thinks they'll
go to ole Miss Green when they die they
never has the too ache lesson they send
after her. Nav she believes in her lik G
tho gospel, and alters sends after her.
Pap lowed if she didn't have nine lives
like cat old Miss Green would er done
kilt her long ago. She had turribIe
spell here tother week after she stood
thar in the wind round the pot and dried
up the hog fat, and Miss Freshours and
Aunt Nancy both told her then if she
didn't mind she'd be on the lift, and shore
enough it layed her up. Nothin' would
do her but she must send after old Miss
G:een. Old Miss Freshours was already
here when Miss Green come, and she
wanted to rub her with this here Wizard
lie you buy out'n the store. 1t reads on
the bottle that it will k'yore everything.
Meet old Miss Freshours when you will
and you can smell the sassy-fack out'n
the Wizard lie. But old Hiss Green has
her own barks and roots aud YARDS, and
sho won't gin i,othin' iior do nCthin' no.
body else tells her; and her'n is all a
she won't let you see her make
the yarb tea nor nothin'. Nav she had
the wheezins and the sniilles and the
year ache besides, and turrible hitch
and mizry in her side and twist and
ketch in the spine Of her back. Old Miss
Green wheeled in hurry aud slapped q
pine-pitch plaster to the spine Of her
back and one to the mizry in her side,
and soused her feet in hot mullen tea,
and creased the bottoms Of 'em with tai
Ter, and then turned in and made mix.
try for her to swob out her thote with,
outn sorgum lasses aud honey, and vim.
egar and red pepper aud hohound, and
mullen billed down strong. Pap lowed
he reckined If it didu't kill her it would
k'ynre her. Hit wasn't no time tel the
house was full of women folks, and they
all wanted to do sumpen for Nav, and il
shed done all they said do and drunk
all the mixtries they talked er iixin' she'd
er been dead afore night. Miss Gooden
come, and she was power of help, but
outn as big a gang as that thar's most
alters one that's got no sense, and yit she
THINKS she knows it ali. Hit was Jim
Hazel's wife; she STAYED right up to the
bed and lowed: "She haint dyin' is
she7 and Nav sho was already skeercd
to death and that sot her all in the trim
bles. Miss Hooker fetched box Of saIve
and bottle Of cough mixtry and gin her
II swaller, and seed in minute it made
ole Miss Green mad. Ole Miss Potter
lowed she had ortcr drink the water of n
some tair, and Miss Robertson wanted
to take of Miss Green's plaster and put
"A mush poulticc to her side; old Miss
Strong lowed hot ashes would be the best,
but old Miss Green wouldn't do nairy
one-lowed "Ef you'll jis gimme rag
I'll sacrifice it in turkentine and rub it,
and / lay hirll sarcll that mizry. l knows
that mizry up and down, and thar's moth.
in else but turkentine that's gwine to
wrench it out" Old Miss PinEney kep
q askin' for whiskey to gin her, but Maw'f
fernent whiskey last l seed the ole
oman jis naitcrly wanted dram herself
so went out in the loomhouse and gol
Pap's flask whar hid it when he was
soberin' up, and 1 gin her good "sti1
swig" of it, rs Pap calls it. She taken q
seat slider the fire and jes watched her
Alter awhile she lowed: "We'uns had
orter sing some hines for sister uamil.
ton, and she let in to singin'; the whis.
key had made her happy. Nav she il
so tender hearted she never could stand
to hear no hines 'thout cryin', and she
iayed thar and cried. Mis-. Strong she
lent over her and tried to talk scriptur
and ole Miss Freshours she jined in too
and she knows as much about the Bible
as hog does about Sunday. Fust one
then tother jined in to hep Miss Pinkney
sing, and she left them all with the tune
to hold while she drap; Dit to sleep
But thar wasn't no sleep for Nav. They
had made her heiieye her lime had cone
to die her fever riz and her mine got to
wanderin' and Flurridy was skeercd al
but into fit. They sot aud smoked tel
the room was plum blue, and them that
didn't smoke dipped snuff and spit on the
hath, and old Miss Freshours's tongue
never stopped minute. knowed sc
much company aud fuss and singin
mixed longer all that terbacker smoke
and all ole Miss Green had done for hel
would kill her or run her distracted, so
named it TO Pap, and he riz aud went ir
thar and lowed: Ladies, one and oil,
haint overly 'ligious myself, and I DOM
mean no harm, but I'd be glad if you 'un.
would jes wait tel Sunday fore yot
sing airy mother bime. Partheny needs
q E:tle sleep. Fi;irTidy go longer tn,
ladies 10 the i00m'ouse. / haint so over
ly 'ligious, as tell you, but don't NEAR
no harm, and hope you 'uns wont take
no inceptions 10 nothin' says; but Par
theny must have little slcep;" and yol
orter seed 'em scatter.
She never taken no turn to git bette
tel Sunday. and they jes poured in il
gangs all that day. Miss Gooden lowet
mouse had the year ache (he's the bah.
that's named after the great poet in Nc
Gutfey's fifth electrified reader) and sh'
lowed Sammy had s;one-bruise on hi
loot, and she had been turribly bothered
with the petrified sore thote herself aut
WAS feared to stir about in the wind
and Gooden he hadn't been we'll sense th
rain sot in and was jist draggin' arount
the house gruntin' continnerly putt.
nigh all the time, and hit looked like sh'
jis couldn't git of, and it raincd besides
Quick as Nav riz and was on the ment
/ was tuck with the sore thote-but II
tell you about that next time. "Rount
AZ ring that has no end, 80 is my lov,
for you, my friend" That's what Ik,
Robertson writ in the back of my spellin'
book. Your'n,
BETSY HAMILTON.