Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-05-18
THE WIDOW LOCKERY.
Story of a Heroine Who did not Know
She was a Heroine.


yearly meetings at GershOm was CON-
posed Of the surviving pioneers Of 1889.
All persons who, either as adults or chill
dren, had settled in the district covered by
the organization previous TO or within
that year, were entitled to enrolment.
l was spending the summer with
friend who called herself an old settler
by marriage. Her husband, Col. Hugh
/ Hastings. had come into the wIlds with
his parents at the age Of two years, and
so had grown up with the country in
literal sense. They lived at Barhan Sta
ton, on the line Of the one railroad which
trayersed the county. GershOm, the cOun-
ty-seat, was six miles distant.
1t was arranged on the morning of the
reunion that my friends Marian and
Should drive over early with the children
and spend the entire day. The Colonel
kept saddle horse, and would follow in
the afternoon.
We started in the dew, yet when we
reached GershOm the village was all astir.
At 10 O'Clock the beautiful picnic grounds
en- the banks of ShokObee Lake were
swarming with the population Of many
townships. The Old Settlers proper were
not a numerous band, but their assemblies
had come to be gala days with the entire
I community.
Passing among the groups gathered here
and there, one caught bits Of character
istic talk. A group of men were discuss
ing wheat prospects. They seemed to be-
long to that class IN whom the uncertain
~ of the farmers hope and had condition
of chronic fOrebOding. One said the wheat
was TOO strong, and would all be lodged
+ before harvest. Another thought the re-
I cent heavy rains would produce crust in
/ the stalk" A third predicted hot, dry
! time. that would cause il to fire at the
root"
I Chow does your wheat look, Dave?v
/ The question was asked Of a tall, stOop-
| shouldered fellow, who had been listening
to the rest and saying nothing.
t+Derned f L know was the reply. Il
sowed it in good time and style last fall,
and hain't looked at it since. LOokin'
/ does no good, nor croakin', nuther."
! Old Seth Householder had been re-
markedly good shot in his time. We
| paused in our saunter to hear him tell
/ about it. He was a grotesque old man,
/ with yellOwish curling hair hanging over
/ the collar Of his clean calico shirt.
! Il presume theirs a good many old fel-
| lers here,' said he, 'sthat minds about the
/ doggery Hank SloaE KEEP over on the old
I State road. He KEEP a little stock of
1 grocery, too, and abouto once fortnPt he'd
/ heY a shOOtin' match. He'd tie up bundles
Of tea and terbacker and sugar, and we'd
shoot for 'em. Well, one afternoon IN the
/ beginnin' Of winter-it was the 3lst
of November, if l mind right-Hank had
shoot. There was just seventy-three of
them packages, and when the match was
out and Hank told 'em over, all but four
was marked s. Householder Vas, that
was rather lair shootin'. l was toPable
handy with a rife them days. l tell you,
gentlemen, It's all In the optic nerve of
the eye. Theirs WHARF it lays"
The band began playing on the ros-
trum, and the multitude moved toward the
I music.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never called to minds
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And the days Of auld lang synes'
The sweet horns seemed to speak the
very words!
There was rOll-call. answered to in
voices varying from the robust, mellow
tones of middle age to the feebler quaver
of the OctOgenarlan. A briet biOgraphi-
cal obituary of late member was read.
Then the orator of the day was intro
duced. After the speech came the basket
dinner under the trees. The afternoon
was devoted to music and storytelling. A
I venerable Methodist preacher gave an ac-
I count of his own circuit-riding in the
early days. \ Barhan banker recalled
the fact that he had come into the county,
at the age Of 16, as chain-bearer in a sur
veying company. An aged farmer named
Manning arose.
| Il was the first white settler in Deer
( Lick Township. Things was middlin' on
/ handy long at first. What 'ud folks think
/ now Of drivin' thirty miles for a bag of
/ seed wheat and two plOw-pints? l did
/ that in '37-druY it with oxen, too. 1t
/ was powerful hard work clearin' up my
/ land-timber so heavy and help so scarce.
/ | had one hired hand that done me heap
1 of good He was only boy, but he was
Z ST. 4 -vrrff tod
/ He'd chop all day and study his books till
/ 10 O'Clock at night. He's here to-day,
friends. and maybe some Of you knows
/ who l mean. It's Judge Tazewell, there
on the platform. He split and laid up the
rails that fenced my first clearin'. He's
/ been to Congress since, and Pm proud to
/ say he's been as honest a law-maker as he
| was fence-maker. Ipropose three cheers
! for the rail splitter Of the old Tenth dis
/ trict."
They were given with energy, and
Judge Tazewell came down and shook
/ hands with Uncle Eli Manning.
! The President Of the club then asked
/ how many in the assembly had any per-
/ sOnal recollection of tWO-days' hunt Tor
a lost child in the autumn Of Al.
answer Sunday-schOol fashion," said
| he, and about half dozen hands went
up.
lis the Widow Lockery here?'' he next
| inquired.
II reckon she isl came the answer
in woman's voice from somewhere in the
/ crowd.
''Mrs. Lockery," continued the Presi-
| dent, 'found the lost child, and if she
will tell us all about it, ! for one, will be
much pleased. l have a vague impression
/ of the terror which the hunt produced
! and the excitement it aroused in my
/ childish mind; but I do not remember
/ u frrTlr
scribed 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 be-
tween the rude benches, and took a posi-
! ton facing the people. She seemed in
no hurry 10 begin her story, but deliber-
laid 1t on the grass beside her. She was
the most remarkable parsonage | 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 iTon-gray hair grew low over her fore
head, and was gathered into a great,
rough-lOOking knot at the back of her head,
and secured in its place by brass comb.
| Her complexion was swarthy, and her
dark eyes were shaded by darker brOws
which almost met above her prominent
aquiline nose. Her lips closed firmly,
and her whole face had an expression of
unspeakable sadness.
Friends and neighbOrs," She began;
| and all at once found myself smiling, as
/ | observed many others doing. Never be-
/ fore did human countenance so quickly
/ transform its expression. The dark eyes
/ twinkled, the corners of the mouth gave
! humorous curl, the lips parting in speech
/ revealed a double row of perfect natural
/ teeth, cleaning with drollery, and the
whole changed physiognomy was laugh
! ter-provoking.
Friends and neighbours SEEM as how
Mr.. Evans has sort o. give out that Pm
the herowine o. this tale o. terror, maybe
it would sound better for some one else to
tell it. So much by way of preface.
sit was Benjamin MYERS child that
was lost. Ben started one mornin' in
October to get some griRdin' done. There
was no mill nearer than the one on
Taylor's 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 o. his'n, just five year old,
took a notion to go long, but his pa
wouldn't let him. He whipped the poor
little fellow in the mOrnin' for cryin' to
90; but when he started the child just
fOllQrpd tho wa OOn and bayplad IN no fOoIr