Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1886-04-02
WORTHLESS NICK.
AN ARKANSAS STORY.


Everybody VINO llNeu III lne uelVnDOr'
hood of Clarkson's Ford, Ark, agreed
that Nick Page was Griffin an no count. .
Nick was a tall, quaint fellow, with q
slouching gait and an air of unconcern
HIS voice was drawing, his eyes were
large and were lighted with that peculiar
lustre the origin of which can be traced
back to the introduction of the talloW
candle. Nick's mother was widow, and
she and her son lived on Il small farm
more productive of sassafras sprouts and
persmmon bushes than of any kind of
marketable vegetation. Mrs. Pages crops
were so uncertain that when any one in
the neigborhood said Eyer KANT put nc
mo- conferdence in it then yer ken in ole
Miz Pages CON-" it was at once under
stood to be comparison greatly damag.
ing 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 of Nick. In the spring of the
year. when the neighbors We're blowing
and planting, happy in the work which
brings reward in autumn. Nick, follow
ing half dozen half-starved dogs, would
prowl through the woods.
Come hele ter me, his mother would
say when he returned home. ooh, yer
good fur nothin' whelp. I'm er greet min
not ter let yer have er mou'ful ter eat
Here yer air, astIappin' boy 81 years ole,
an with not as much sense as 1O-year
ole chile. do think in my soul that yer
air ther no 'countest good fur nothin'ist
whelp | ever seed sense | wuz put on Their
top side NV God'ul mighty's yeath. When
air yer goin' ter break up that groun'
say
"Bergin on it in Their mornin' reckon.
"Do yer know what yer may do eff yer
don You may take yerself erway frum
here an never put yer foot on this here
place no mo- while breath's in my body.
Amt got long ter live, an ter think that
Their son that | have raised an keered fur
fur
Char dow, nam, don't cry. I'll go ter
work ter mor'-blame it, eff yer keep on
er cryin' III jump Their fence an never
come back no mo-"
Among those whose dislike of Nick
amounted to contempt, was lobe Crab
tree an industrious old fellow who con
demned laziness with as much vehemence
as Cherokee chief would exhibit III con-
demnation of timidity Old lobe would
never have agreed that man was made to
mourn, but that man was made to work.
Mr. Crabtree, although cOnfessedly relig-
ious, considered Sunday in summer as a
day of punishment rather than day of
rest. After suffering through n sermon
more notable on account of bodily than
of mental strength, the old man would
go into the field and, scarcely able to re-
sist the temptation of laying hold of
sprouts which in spite of all his former
efforts grew among the corn, would lin
ger there until summoned to ask a bless
ing over corn bread, hogs jowl and tur-
nip greens. Mrs. Crabtree was weak
woman who seemed to have worn herself
out with a pair of cotton cards. She had
been taught to believe that the sooner she
wore herself out the sooner the saints
would smile upon her with the gracious
light of approval. John Crabtree, young
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 a favorite with every
one-Sis, the daughter. Nothing could
have been blacker than her hair; nothing
could have eXceled the brightness of her
eyes; nothing could have rivalled the
loved Sis and this was one OF the reasons
why old lobe regarded him with such
deep hatred.
Sis" said old lobe one Sunday even
ing, while the family sat ander hickory
tree in the yard, "dldn tel! yer not ter
talk ter that no, count NICK Page! -
"Yas, sir, b'leve yer did"
"Dldn't see yer talkln ter MN at meet
in ter day ~
Il reckon yer mustve"
=. men Whut lher deEli-ihay ther LORD
fnrgive me fur usln' SIGH er 'spression on
er Sunday-What ana yer 90 IL 1ur p
"l-l-didn't go ter"
ION: shet up, now. l Ken talk ter er
sensible oman but when er oman talks
like er TOOL, We got no mo ter say; that
is, ain got no further argymint ter car
ry on with her.
Tobias, don't scold the child" Mrs.
Crabtree meekly suggested.
81 amt scoldln NV her, Puss, the old
man replied. Il only want her ter un-
'erstan that she mustn't fool roun' with
that trltlin' teller Wy, Puss, 1t IS er dis
grace ter Their family ter have her er
talkln an er gigglln with mat OIL scour-
in IF she's so keen ter marry, wy don't
she marry Wilson, Their sheriff He's
putty nigh dead alrter her; but no, she
must hing nm ter one SIDE, Ike her ole
coat, an turn ter er fool not tittin' ter be