Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1889-06-12
UGLY JACKS"
How Homely Hero's Hopes We're
, More Than Realized.

How a Homely Hero's Hopes Were
More Than Realized.
canaan, you're SO ugly, Jacks!'
the girl added, with something like a
little shudder. Il know it, Hannie,
but" Half frightened at the look of
anguish that her words had brought to
the mans face, the girl turned and
sped along the timber-path that led
from the big spring.
The man covered his face with his
hard hands and groaned. No one knew
better than he just how unhandsome
he was. AS a boy, Jackson Hamlin
had grown alphabetically used to the
so61Quet of ugly Jaclzs," and had so
often sought some placid little "back-
set in the creek, and gazed at his re-
Election in it with a pitiful hope that he
might be growing less deserving of the
title, that every line and lineament of
his ugly face was as familiar to his
mental vision as if it were ever before
his eyes. He had grown from an ugly
child to an equally ugly man, grave
and kindly, and differing greatly from
the shiftless and ''trihing' beings
about him.
He wore the same fashionlcss garb
as they, but he spoke little of the
quaint dialect which they drawled
While they passed as much as posi-
BILE of their time at any thing but
work, he cultivated his timber-farm.
Or when, at night, the young men fol-
lowed yelping ours on 'possum or coon
hunts, Or with their sisters and sweet
hearts disported themselves at the
''hoe-down'' dances, Jacks Hamlir
bowed over the home made table in his
bachelor cabin, and, by the light of
spluttering tallow dip, conned books
that looked so bloatedly full of wisdom
that the casual and illiterate visitor
regarded them almost reverently.
No one knew their contents, not
even old Jerry Politics. daughter, one
of the few persons ip the neighborhood
the Egypt of Southwestern Missouri
who could read. They looked too
dry and ponderous to arouse her inter-
est But she liked to hear him tell of
the great world--the world beyond tho
forest-beyond the limits. of the State,
even-the outside world of which she
had seen nothing and he very little,
but of which he knew much from read
ing.
And she liked, too, to hear him re-
cite pcetry-poetry that she, with her
scanty education, could scarcely un-
derstand. And, at such times. she
would, for little while, forget his
ugly face, the surroundings the
rickety, shook-covered house where
her father, old Jerry Pottle, calmly
smoked and dozed in his back tilted
chair on the porch; forget the apa-
thetic, shiftless, out-of-the- way world
in which she existed, and live for the
moment in the bright, far-of world of
which the poem told
This bright faced, ragged maiden
had hopes-dreams that promised no
shadow of fulflment till Sharpley
came. You and l would have con-
sidered this Sharpley a very Indifferent
personage-:owdyish as to appearance.
deficient as to grammar, and inclined
to slovenliness Of attire. But to Han
he WAS very interesting indeed. He had
been almost everywhere-at least, he
said so. He, too, could quote poetry
of a certain class. AS a conversa~
tona!ist be seemed almost a wonder to
Han, for Sharpley's tongue was ready
and his mind an inventive one. and the
restrictions Of truth bothered him
little.
Jacks had made no complaint, but
had kept closer to his farm during the
days, and studied his dry books more
fiercely at night. And Han scarcely
missed him at all, for Sharpley was so
often lowering about, and his CONVEX
sation seemed always Of things in
which she was interested. And-well,
it was so easy for Sharpley's agile
tongue to promise any thing, and list
ening, the girl almost forgot Jacks.
Few had known or cared when he
disappeared for a few days, and then
came back with one of the two great
hopes of his life blossoming into real
izatiOn.
'pll tell it to her." he told himself.
s'Tell it to Hannist and may be-