Huntsville gazette., 1889-08-31
THE RUNAWAY.
IN Aged Pilgrim from sold New
England.

1ASoAoAA0s
"Would they put her in the asylum"
she wondered, IF they caught her?"
Folks would surely think she was
crazy.
She stopped at the stone wall to rest,
and looked back timorously at the old
famil lar scene.
Far behind her stretched the meadow,
a symphony of olive and green in the
late fall. Here and there by a sunken
bowlder stood soldierly golden-rod, or
berry bushes clothed now in scarlet
and gold. At intervals in the long
slope stood solitary trees. where fut-
tering, brittle leaves fell in the gentle
chill air. IA In summer time she remem-
bered well the hay-makers rested in
the shade, and the jug with ginger
water she made for the men was kept
there to be cool.
She seemed. as she sat there, to re-
member every thing. The house was
all right she was sure of that; the key
was under the kitchen door-mat, the
fire was out in the stove, and the cat
locked in tho barn.
She held her work hardened hand to
her side, painting little, for it was a
good bit of a walk across the meadow,
and she was eighty years old on her
last birthday. The COWS feeding looked
home-like and pleasant.
Goodbye, critters" she said, aloud;
''meny's the time I've druv' ye home
an mill6ed ye, an allus let ye eat by
the way, nor never hurried ye as the
boys DONE" sssS-S&ss.- sss-S&ss
With farewell glance she went on
again, smoothing as she walked the
scattered locks of gray hair falling
under the pumpkin hood, and keeping
her scant black gown out of the reach
of briars. Across another field, then
on through a leafy lane where the
wood was hauled in winter, then out
through gap in a stump fence, with
its great branching arms like petri-
fed octopus, to the dusty high-road.
Not soul in sight in the coming
twilight John, the children and the
scolding wife who made her so unh ap-
py would not be home for an hour yet,
for East Mills was long drive.
Down the steep hill went the brave
little figure, followed by an odd shadow
of itself in the wanning light, and by
tiny stones that rolled so swiftly they
ha,- nftan md 40 h., l.
hind with start to see if a pursuer
were coming.
''They'd put me in an asylum, sure. :"
she murmured wildly as she trudged
along.
At the foot Of the hill she sat down
upon an old log and waited for the
train.
Across the road, guarded by big
sign, Look out for the Engine" ran
two parallel iron rails that were to be
her road when the big monster should
come painting around the curve.
At last the dull rumble sounded, a
shrill whistle, and she hurried TO the
track, waving her shawl to signal.
1HlS, III b11t NGEildCuldF,
was crossroads station, where he
was used to watch for people waving
articles frantically. The train stopped
and this passenger was helped aboard.
He noticed she was a bright-eyed old
lady, very neat and precise.
sHow fur?" he asked.
n ."Bostin
a. ~Gitithere in the mornin'," he said
kindly. waiting for the money, as she
opened queer little riticule, where,
under her knitting, wrapped in a
scIeah cotton handkerchief, was her
purse with her savings of long years
the lutte sums Sam had sent when he
first began to prosper in the West, and
some money she had earned herself by
knitting and berry picking.
At a crossroads, as they went swift
ly on. she saw the old sorrel horse,
the rafting wagon, and John with his
family driving homeward. She drew
back with a little cry, fearing he might
see her and stop the train, but they
went on so fast that could not be, and
the old horse logged into the woods,
and John never thought his old Aunt
Hannah, his charge for twenty long
years, was running away. -''-
At Boston q kindly conductor bought
her through ticket for Denver.
Its long journey for an old lady
like you," he said.