Salt Lake evening Democrat. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1885-1887, 1885-03-02
erening aemutrat.
GRANDMOTHER,s STORY.
How She Made a Hiding Place Of a
Brass Kettle.

~ hdo d SOOIAly udy, dlu JIie children
were popping corn over the Goals in the
CRATE. F
Grandma sat with her knitting work
near the fire, and the kitten was chasing
great white fluffy kernel around the
room with her frisl5y paws.
"When was little girl and lived at
the West, 7" said grandma, "my brothers
and used to pop corn in the ashes"
How could you DO that, said Tom.
II shouldn't think it would be popped at
ALL"
90, we didn't use coal ashes, but
scrapd clear place in front of the great
wood fire, put the corn down in little
heaps, and then covered each heap care
fully with hot ashes, placing a live coal
or so on top, and in a little while they
would come popping ont all over the
floor"
'What fun 70 said Meg. 81 wish we
had fireplace and awood fire."
Grandma" said Bess, who had been
reading frontier stories, and was more in
terested in Indians than in popping corn
at present, having become tired of the
occupation, ''did you ever see any In
dams in those days?'
81 saw one, and he frightened me
nearly out OF my senses"
20, do tell us about it?' cried all the
children in the same breath. "The corn
is all popped now, and it will be SO nice
to hear story while we are eating it."
Wait till | count the stitches on nv
needle, and then, if you will promise not
toask me to tell it over again for month
at least, will tell you the story"
They promised, and sitting themselves
in row each with dish of corn in his
or her lap, waited impatiently for the
stitches to be counted.
when our family moved to the West"
began grandma, 81 was only eight years
old. 1t was a pretty, but lonely spot
where our little log house was built, in
clearing not far from the edge of the
prairie. Ii you went far enough into the
woods or across the prairie, you could
hear the wolves howl at night.
There were no roads for a great dis
tance, only a path or trail, as they called
1t, and our nearest neighbor lived nearly
mile away.
When we first went there, we had
great dread of Indians-or at least mother
and we children had, though father used
to laugh at us, saying that there were no
hostile Indians in the region, and the
remnant of copper-colored tribe, which
still fingered on the outskirts of the State,
would have to run the gauntlet of [ don't
know how many blockades to get at us.
But 1t was only very few years be-
fore that they were scalping and commit
ting all sorts of depredations within a
mile or two OF the spot where we were
living, and my mother was continually
on the lookout for them, though she was
very careful not to say anything to
righten us children.
As Tor me, L was a nervous, delicate |
child, and there was not day during the |
first six months of our life in this new
country that didn't imagine that | saw
one. If a tuft OF leaves stirred in the /
still twilight, L was sure that it was a
feather in an Indians cap. If l heard |
the cattle tramping about in the under
brush, was sure that whole horde of |
Indians were coming 10 ransack the
house. ii looked out into the moon
light, every shadow took the grim shape
of chief, tomahawk and all. If l peered
up the wide chimney to see the sparks
rom the fire fly up to the stars on Win
,er's night, / never failed to encounter
sly and terrible eyes gazing
Town into mine.
''Did you, truly?" inquired little Joe,
With his mouth agape with establishment.
"Why, no, Joe. Grandma said she
,nly imagined it all, you know, because
he was afraid, +" explained wise Bess, im-
patient of the interruption.
"And every night before l went to
leep," grandma continued, 81 heard all
orts of noises, which l had no doubt
we're Indians trying to break into the
louse, shaking the bolts of the doors, or
ramping about on the roof over my head.
But as time passed on those fears and
gradually wore away, and
Then summer came even l forgot all
bout Indians.
at had been late, cold spring. The
ain dripped off the caves and blurred !
he windows nearly every day; and when
he sky was clear, chilly wind blew,
hat frightened back the leaves and bios I
oms, and stopped the birds songs in
heir very Threats. :
g But when June came, the weather l
ras so lovely that we played out of doors
he whole day long. The flowers seemed
, be making up for lost time and crowded '
verywhere, dressed in all sorts of pretty |
olors. They peeped through the chinks 1
our log cabin, climbed to its very roof a
pretty, graceful vines, and made it, as
rude and clumsy as it was, a perfect q
over of beauty.
81 was SO weary, after those long,
lnny days out of doors, that went to 9
eep as soon as my head touched the q
How, and heard no more shaking bolts
feet tramping overhead. Mother no
niger searched every nook and corner,
yery crevice and closet, before going to "
ID and we often left the house by itself
the daytime, with doors and windows
ide open, and nothing but the sunbeams, v
perhaps stray chicken, had ever ven d.
red to stray within. ii
zone warm afternoon In July, mother in
ID the boys went benying, leaving me in
home alone. Father WAS at work on n,
nat we called the burnt land three .,
arters of mile away. | expected to :
one OF the berrying party; but as l had w
Ell out of doors all the forenoon, and 90
Is afflicted with a headache, mother NV
ought it would not do at all Tor me to m
out again under the hot sun. 10
f"You won't be afraid to stay in the We
use alone, will you, Mary?' said she. III
don't know what could possibly harm or
u. l wish you would feed the chickens III
out 4 O'Clock. Be sure to take the in
lgerbread out of the oven in about ten he
nutes, and don't let pussy get her nose ST,
o the custard-pies which are cooling in ca
: window in
Il wasn't afraid the least bit in the fel
rid. The sunshine was streaming In M
the open door; the birds were singing bu
the bushes outside, and the speckled by
ten was chasing her tail around the hi,
L l. - ,r,.r,