Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-10-08

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in boisterous manner. which he in
the loss of the old place and their
changed circumstances.
Then he went to Mr. Blake's Office.
delivered up the horses, wagon and
carriage, and gave him bill of sale for
the hogs and the HOUSEHOLD goods which
he was to have, and which he had left by
agreement at neighbours.
In return he received a warranty deed
to- the new place, made by his request
and without her knowledge in the name
of his wife.
He did not do this for the purpose OF
defrauding any one, for he owed no
man dollar, but he had lost all pride
in ownership, and somehow felt that
honor required that, having failed to
protect his own rights and guard his
family from suffering, he should now
resign all claim to the direction of
affairs and place what little was left
of their fortune in the hands of her
who, equally with himself, had aided in
accommodating all that was lost, as well
as all that remained.
Accompanying the deed was an alb
stract of title signed by the Recorder of
Deeds for the county, showing that
there were no mortgages on record
against the land therein described, and
that the title thereto was in the name
of Mr.. Blake.
Not daring to trust to his own knowl-
edge of such things, Mr.. Parsons took
the abstract and deed to the landlord
of the hotel, whom he thought man
likely to be possessed of some knowl-
edge of business. The landlord looked
them over and pronounced them all
right
Determined to have no lingering
doubts to worry him hereafter, Mr..
Parsons then sought out the village
lawyer. and submitted them to him
also.
That gentleman glanced them over
and replied:
Its all right. sir; all rights
Gland entered by John Smith, who
sells to Peter Jones. Deed signed by
John Smith and Hannah E. Smith, his
wife. They sell to Thomas r. Blake.
Thomas r. Blake and Mary S. Blake
deed to Martha j.. Parsons.
mo mortgage appears upon the records in
my Office against the above described land.
''ENOS PUTERBAUGH, Recorder
Hat al right 1ltle III your WIG.
Nobody can get it away from you, sir"
That's what | thought every time
afore," muttered John Parsons to him
self as he left the Office, ''but they did
it all the same. But may be as this
place amt worth much and amt never
likely to be, they'll leave us in peace
the rest of our lives
1t was near the middle of the after
noon when the family found themselves
in the spring wagon and on their way.
The road wound round and round the
hills, now up, now down, rocky and
full of gullies washed by the rains;
never being repaired except when it
became absolutely impossible, and in
spite of the careful driving of his faith
er the rough jolting hurt Johnny,
sometimes causing him to cry out with
pain.
Night overlook them when they were
several miles from their journeys end,
making it still more difficult to travel
with any speed, so that it was ten
O. clock when they turned their tired
and jaded horses off the main road into
a by-track to the right, and a quarter
of mile further on pulled up in front
of cheap, implanted board shanty-
their new home upon the mountain
side.
1t was too late to think of doing any,
thing except to make cup of coffee
and bunk down in the easiest way pos.
sible for the night.
Mr.. Parsons, with the assistance OF
the neighbor who came with him the
day before, had put up a cook-stove
and made bunk for themselves on
the floor, which remained just as they
had crawled out of it in the morning.
Another similar one was now made up
in another corner of the room, and
upon these the family slept, except
Johnny, who occupied his wheeled cot,
it having been the last thing packed on
the wagon before leaving the old home.
When they arose the next morning
the sun was shining over the mountain
tops, and doing the best it could to
make the scene pleasant one.
Mr.. Parsons hastily slipped On his
clothes and went out to look to the
horses.
Mrs Parsons and the girls also
dressed hurriedly and then stepped to
the door and looked out. 1t had been
too dark to see much the night before,
and they had been too utterly tired out
to try to see even the little that might
have been seen, but now they were
eager to know how the place really did
look.
A sad enough contrast it was to the
old home. Instead of white cottage
with its green blinds and wide open We
randas, their dwelling was rough
shanty of boards nailed perpendicularly
to the framework, resembling in this
respect The one which they had occu-
pied for few days on the Suscol
ranch. But instead of icing sixteen
feet in length, these boards were but
ten feet long, and as a consequence
there was no loft above as in the Suscol
cottage.
The interior was ceiled with cotton
cloth, but there were no little nicely
made conveniences; no sink; no cup
board; no partition; no porch over the
door. All was in one room and all was
cheap and rough.
Outside. the view was no more cheer
ing. The shanty stood well up on the
hill or mountain. Below, and for lit
tie distance, both in front and in the
rear, was d piece of tolerably level
ground, perhaps forty acres in all, which
declined gently to the west, ending in
ravine, beyond which the earth became
broken and rocky again.
Above the shanty the ground sloped
upwards with a sharper pitch for few
hundred feet and then rose rapidly, be-
coming more and more precipitous. un-
til it reached the summit a third of a
mile away.
In places portions of the solid rock
foundation projected through the bar
rem soil. while in others immense de-