The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1889-07-19
miscellaneous.
LOWLAND FOLKS.

One day ! came upon three acre clearing
in the pine woods, in the midst of which
was squatter's cabin, and seated on a stump
at the door was woman weeping. She was
past the middle age, and she had that care
worn, Overworked look characteristic of so
many farmers wives, north and south.
was close on TO her before she was aware OF
my presence, and then, hastily wping her
eyes, she rose up with "howdy" and tried
to smile welcome.
Il hope you are not in trouble-the old
man sick or one Of the children dead ?"
queried.
She sat down and began to weep again,
and it was two or three minutes before she
could control her voice to reply.
Its he'un--all on account of he'un y
"And who may 'heun' be-"
"The ole man"
con, your husband? | hope he isn't
sick"
"lIe'un never get sick. He'un ia dun well
all the time and able to tote all he kin eat"
Then what is it?'
At that moment "heun" came upon the
scene, having been in hiding behind brush
heap. He had a small bundle in one hand
and a shotgun in the other. He was man
of about fifty, grizzled and gray, with weak
helpless look as his prominent characteristic
He came forward slowly and gave me a
"howdy," and at the sound OF his voice the
woman began to "bOO-hoo" in vigorous
manner, and walled out:
"rve dun told him, Jim, all about your
fussing"
who's a-fussin' ?"
"Y0u be !"
stranger" he said, as turned to me, with
his chin quivering, "lm dun glad to meet up
with yer. | want you to talk with she'un
It's a-taking of my heart outer me the way
she is taken on. I've dun carried her to
town, over to her brothers, down a-tishing
and all over, and she's a.yearning. She's
asColdn' and a.fussin' and a-cryin' all the
time, and | jest dun told her was going
away. 1couldn't walk up to it no mo-"
| saw that ii was domestic cloud, and eX-
perience had taught me the ensiest way to
dssipate it. unslrapped my knapsack
gave him plug of tobacco, pipe, handed
her pins, needles, thread, comb, and cheap
handkerchief, and by the time we had got seat.
ed on log for q talk the thunder had died
away and the blackness had gone out of the
cloud.
Now, then, the trouble is this: You are
squatters. You are poor. You don't see a
dollar in cash week in and week ont. You
Jim, raise few potatoes and little corn
hunt and fish, cut n few cords of wood for
somebody, and that's about all you can do
Am | right :"
Brighter nor the Bib,e, sab. That's jist
exactly the case"
And you, Mrs. Thomas, have little to do
within the house little to wear, and the pros
pect of ending your days in this lonesome
place makes you impatient and cross. Is that
right ?"
"Befo' the Lawd it ar! My own daddy
couldn't hev put il better"
"Well, now, let's reason bit. You have
always been poor
Pore an shucklCss an unfitten."
you never had a better home, not better
clothes, nor more TO eat than you have now ~
"Never."
"Well, then, you must have got used to it,
1t isn't as If you had been rich and lost all"
NO, | 'spect not"
"You are pretty comfortable for poor folks
| can find many worse off within ten miles
of YOU"
"You kim" she exclaimed in great sur
prise.
Certainly. That's the best calico dress
I've seen in two days"
"StrangcrW she gasped, springing up in
her excitement, "answer me honest An
drew! Ar there folkses wuss off nor
weuns?"
"lIeaps of them"
"Rght yere in this Sta,e?"
eyes, and all around you"
"Then, Jim, hain't got another whinny
(compaint to make. | thought we'uns was
the downest of all. Let's make up and shet.
threw in another plug of tobacco and a
card of shirt buttons to bind the bargain, and
as moved off they sat on the log with their
arms around each other and their tears
falling together.