Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1886-04-10
WORTHLESS NICK.
An Arkansas Story.
BIZ oPIE r. READ.
IRE BE CONTINUED

agreed that Nick Page was ''trifin'
an nc count" Nick was a tall, gaunt
fellow. with a slouching gait and m
air OF His voice was
drawing, his eyes were large and were
lighted with that peculiar luster the
origin of which can be traced back to
the introduction of the tallow candle.
Nick's mother was q widow, and she
and her son lived on a small farm more
productive of sassafras sprouts and
persimmon bushes than of any kind Of
marketable vegetation. Mrs. Pages
crops were so uncertain that when
anyone in the neighborhood said.
Eyer KANT put on no mo- conferdence
in it then yer ken in ole Miz Pages
con-" it was at once understood to be
q comparison greatly damaging to the
thing of which the person had spoken.
The uncertainty Of crops on the Page
farm was not caused by neglect on the
part of Providence, but by neglect on
the part Jick. In the spring OF the
year. when the neighbors were pillow.
ing and planting. happy in the work
which brings q reward in autumn.
Nick, following a half dozen half
starved dogs. would prowl through
the woods.
"Come here ter me-" his mother
would say when he returned home.
''Oh, yer good fur nothin' whelp. I'm
or gre't min not ter let yer have or
mouthfull NV nothin' ter eat. Here
yer air, a strappin' boy II years ole,
and with not as much sense as a 10
year ole chile. l do think in my soul
that yer air Their no 'countest, good fur
noth;nest whelp I aver seed
wuz put on ther top side NV God'ul
mighty's yeath. When air yer goin'
ter break up that groun', sayp"
'Bergin on it in Their mornin'
reckon"
''Do yer know whut yer may do Of
yer don'tP Yer may take yerself er'
way frum here an never put yer foo,
on this here place no mo- while
bresth's in my body. Amt got long
ter live, an ter think that Their son
that l have raised an keered fur
fur"
"Thar now, nam, don't cry. III
90 ter work ter mor'-blame it, eff yeI
keep on yer cryin' I'll Jump Their fence
an never come back no mo-"
Among those whose dislike of Mich
amounted to contempt, was Tob'
Crabtree, an industrious old fellow
who condemned laziness with as much
vehemence as a Cherokee chief would
exhibit in condemnation of timidity
Old lobe would never have agreed
that man was made to mourn, but thai
man was made to work. Mr.. Crab
tree, although confessedly religious
considered a Sunday in summer as
day of punishment rather than a day
of rest. After suffering through a ser
mou more notable on account o.
bodily than Of mental strength, the ole
man would GO into the field; and
scarcely able to resist the temptation
of laying hold of sprouts which il
spite of all his former efforts grew
among the corn, would linger there
until summoned to ask a blessing Over
corn bread, hogs jowl and turniE
greens. Mrs. Crabtree vas a weak
woman who seemed to have worn her
self out with a pair of cotton cards
She had been taught to believe tina,
the sooner she wore herself out the
sooner the saints would smile upon he,
with the gracious light of approval.
John Crabtree, a yonng man OF much
industry. was the only son OF the old
couple. He had but little to say. but
was the most popular young man in
the community. People said that he
would be the next sheriff of the county.
There was one member of the Crabtree
family who was q favorite with every
one-Sis, the daughter. Nothing
could have been blacker than her hair;
nothing could have excelled the
brightness of her eyes; nothing could
have rivaled the fairness of her face.
Worthless Nick loved Sis. and this was
one of the reasons why old lobe re-
garded him with such deep hatred.
Sis. said old Tobe one Sunday
evening. while the family sat under q
hickory tree in che yard, didn't l tell
yer not ter talk ter that no-'count Nick
Pager
Yes, cir, I h'leve yer did.
Didn't I see yer talkin' ter him al
meetin' ter dayP
1 reckon yer must've.
Then whut Their devil-msy ther
Lawd furgive me fur usin' SIGH Ell
oppression on or Sunday-whut did yer
do it furp
I--I-didn't 60 ter.
Oh. shet up, now. ken talk ter OF
sensible oman, but when 81 oman
talks like or fool, I've got no mo- ter