The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1888-10-27
AN HISTORIC SHELL.


I am not going to tell a war story.
That is to say, am not going to in
wade the province of the monthly
magazine and describe with lingering
fondness of detail a campaign made
great by my own personal interest.
My name is John Norton. was a
captain in an Indian regiment. On
the morning of July 4, 1868, we lay
under the sullen countenance ofVicks-
burg. The city had surrendered, and
our tired men were laying about on
the ground waiting for the forming
of the detachment that should march
in and occupy the city. I was lying
in a fence corner, with my head in
the wavering shade of an alder bush,
and upon glancing in the grass near
me I saw terrapin crawling away.
l took it up, and yielding to fancy,
Icarved my name and "July4, 1868, "
on the reptiles shell. Twas much
pleased with the gracefulness of the
lettering, for my civil vocation was
that of an engraver, and after con-
templating it for a time l showed the
date bearer through a crack in the
fence, SO that it might escape the
sight of any ofour men. Ashort time
afterwards, dusty and hot, 1 was
marching through the streets of the
war stricken town.
Last year l went down to Vicks-
burg, having become the President
of "a company organized to establish
a cotton seed oil mill in that city.
One day, with the idea of securing
the coming crop of cotton see, had
driven out to several large pla nta
tions, and was returning when a
dark cloud that hung in the west
warned me that unless sought shell
ter I should get wet. l drove up to
a double log house situated near the
roadside, and was tying my horse
when an elderly-looking man who
had been moving grass in the yard
hung his scythe in a tree and came
forward to meet me.
Needn't hitch yo' boss thar" he
said, 'fur yo' buggy'll git wetter'n er
drownded rat. Jest come on inter
the house an I'll have a niger drive
the vehicle under the shed. Glad ter
see er rain comin'," he added, as he
turned and gased at the cloud. .'Er
rain on the Fo'th of July allus putty
nigh inshores er good crup Nv cotton.
Bill" calling a negro, "come here an
drive this here contraption round
under the she'd"
He then invited me into the house,
and just as we had reached the hewed
log steps a girl, flirting her apron
and following a hen and chickens,
came round the corner of the house.
She blushed when she saw me, dropped
her apron, and I thong hit was about
to run away, when her father said:
"Hurry up thar, Zudie, an git
them chickens in the hen-house, or
they'll be drowned. Come in, mister.
1t would be leetle mo- comft' BILE
out here on the pooh, butez the rain
is drivin' thiser way we better set in
this room"
He led the way into room dark
ened by the approaching cloud, and
pointing to an old-fashioned arm
chair, said: ''Set right down thar
and make yo'se'f ez much at home ez
If you'd fotch' that cheer with you.
Live about here anywhar?"
When / had given him a brief &C
count of myself he added. "Glad ter
welcome you down here. l amt
been around much myself, but I like
ter see folks that has. Benlivin' here
all my life. Wife she died two years
ago. Thar's the rain"
The girl bounded into the room
She shook the rain drops from hel
beautiful wealth of hair" and sat
down near the window. Her face
shone in bright outlines against the
darkened panes, and when she smiled
at some remark her father made and
revealed, with a sudden CLEAN, hel
pearl-like teeth, / fancied that feck
of silver had been thrown against the
cloud. l hesitate to acknowledge
that I fell in love with her at that
moment; I hesitate because l think
we should be influenced by judgment
rather than be moved by impulse
yet, as sat there and gazed at that
girl, / could not help loving her; still
It was absurd. She was not more
than seventeen; 1 was pretty well
along in years. My hair bore not q
streak of gray, and | knew that
moved with more agility than many
a younger man, but the words. "You
are forty-five, you are forty-fve, .
came down on the roof with the rain
"Look how the roses are nodding
in recognition to the rain," she said
"See, they have gotten up a fiirta'
ton"
"Silly sentimentalist," thought
but before could make any kind o
q reply the old man remarked:
"Yas, an eff that yearlin' ca'fbuttf
ernuther one Nv them bars down he'll
do little firth hisself. He'druthel
cut a few capers on them ther flowers
or weeds call 'em, then to punch
his nanny when the milk won't
come fast ernuff."
"Why, papa, how you talk"
The old man snickered. "Used ter
call me dad said ne, "till l sent
her ter er big-big-oh, one Nv them
big she schools in Memphis, an nov
it's papa. Look here, zudie, ez thel
aia't nobody else on the place to dc