The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-09-04
Returning to the neichborhood after

heCurnlnS 10 Cnc nelSnD0rnOOu alteI
an absence of some years 1 CHANGED one
June afternoon upon my old friend halted
under q roadside beech in the cool
shadow of the little stretch of wood,
one of his favoritc resting places, and
with his old-time companions, dog and
a child, beside him. Stopping for lit
tie chat I casually inquired if it were one
of his grandchildren. ''No," he an
swered, in bis slow, soft drawl. 'David
an Luke an Sary an Lijc an Mary Jane
an Carline all hev children more or less,
but this is none O. theirs. You sec ours
are all grown up now and gone but just
Reuben an Elias an Nathaniel an Jim,
an they're only off an on as it happens.
An mother an me we'd had little shavcrs
around the house so long that it seemed
real lonesome without any, it just did,
and little jamie here, her mas dead, an
her pa-well, he's sort O. onstiddy like"
with an expressive wink to me, $50 she's
come to live with us, she just hes, an
we like her, an, well, I guess she likes
U.S." And with smile that softcned and
illumined his grizzled old face he looked
down to meet an answering smile of con-
fiding affection in the blue child eyes
raised to his.
When at last had started on heard
Uncle Jed say: "Come, jamie, the sun is
almost down; you and I must be going
on for the COWS" At little distance I
paused. and looked back through the
green wood vista at the two figures. The
old man with the child's little hand
clasped in his, his frayed hat brim bent
toward her, and her diminutive pink
calico sunbonnet turned and lifted aslant
as to him. So with the shaggy dog close
beside them and the sound of their voices
floating back in gentle murmur they
went their way along the quiet country
road between the ripening meadows toward
the sunset.
ssThat child never should have been
allowed to there" was the comment of
Mrs Elnathan Sharp, before whom I
CHANGED to refer to the little circum-
stance few days later. "They amt tit
to bring up child"
ssThey certainly have had experience
in that line," observed.
ssExperience, I-should think so" in a
tone of the severest scorn; "their own
came up absolutely hap-hazard and with
out any kind of discipline, and this child
will come up in the same way and never
be taught the first principle of order or
neatness or regular habits of industry. 1
did think of taking her myself, but be-
fore had fully decided they had her and
I suppose are letting her run wild as they
did their own"
glanced around Mrs. Sharp's faultless
room and could but contrast her i'm
maculate housekeeping with that which
had held sway in Uncle Jed's domicile
and mentally confess the prospect of
Janie's learning aught of oroer or system
there was scant, indeed. hope do not
underrate the worth of systematic train
ing, the lifelong value of early formed
right habits; still as I looked at Mrs.
Sharp's cold face and caught the faint
acidity of her tone there came to my
mind memory of the smile that had
flashed like ripple of heart sunshine
betwixt Uncle Jed and his little charge;
and with a vision of Janie's delicate face,
her soft blue eyes and sweet, sensitive
mouth could but wonder-I hope I was
not heterodox-if of the two an atmos-
phere of kindly, warm affection might
not be as conductive to the growth of the
little human plant as the most perfect
system of precepts and rules without it.
The same September. Uncle Jed sick
ened with fever. - On his first visit the
doctor looked grave, and as the days
passed his face grew no more hopeful.
In his delirium the old man was still
going over the familiar round of his life.
Sometimes on his way to the "other
place" dragging his weary feet over the
heavy and burning sand, sometimes stop
ping to rest under the old roadside
beach, and wherever in his fantasy he
wandered little jamie, the companion of
his latter days, was beside him. And
net only in fancy but in reality, for
through those weariful days the child
clung closely to her old friend, stroking
his hand with her light touch, pressing
her soft cheek against his, so SCARED and
furrowed and parched, answering when
IN Inconsistencies he called her name, and
watching him with a dismal pain in her
soft blue eyes.
But there came day when little jamie
lay stricken with the same fever, and
when the doctor felt the swift but weak
pulse throbbing in the small, white wrist
he shook his head again. It may be that
the sanitary condition of the old house
was bad, though it had never before af-
fected those beneath its roof; possibly,
as Mrs. Sharp intimated, their nursing
might have been improved, but it was
the best that those who rendered it knew
how to give, and who of US can do more?
And it might have been in that conflict
with disease that the most skilled nurse
would with the doctor have had to own
defeat. Her fever was not of the violent
type of Uncle Jed's. For the most part
she lay quiet; sometimes grooming frag-
ments of hymns that she had learned in
Sunday school or Scripture texts. But
ever with it all the tide of life ebbed
lower and weaker.
And at last one day, one sunny antumn
day, clad with the glow and ripeness of
the year, an unwonted hush seemed to
rest over the weather-worn old house.
The doctor made his usual visit, but it
was brief one, and his medicine case
remained unopened. Now and then q