Morning appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1877-1906, 1889-12-22
FILSEY.

a CHRISTMAS SKETCH FROM LIFE IN HOO
sIERDoM
81 reckon this is goin' ter be or buster,
nid old Uncle Billy Botsworth as he came
into the family sitting room Of the old farm
house with a great load Of wood on his
shoulders With q crash he deposited hii
burden on the spacious hearth, where huge
1re was already blazing, and began to pile
on the long, dry sticks Of beech and hickory
until in q few moments q perfect sheet OF
fame was roaring up the wide throated
chimney.
Grandma Botsworth, who sat In her 90
custoined corner by tho "jamb." busy with
her knitting. made no reply, while Uncle
Billy proceeded to remove his coat, hat and
boots, and, having filed and lighted his pipe,
sat down to enjoy himself Outside furious
znow storm was raging, and already the
earth was heavily carpeted with white Pres
emily his two sons, Jacob and Milton, came
in from doing up the chores, and, like their
father, were soon Invested Of caps coats and
boots, and seated before the rousing fire talk
ing over the events Of the day.
A little later Mrs. Botsworth Joined them,
and then the family circle was complete No,
not complete, either; daughter was missing.
Three years ago this Christmas eve she had
gone out from the parental roof to marry tho
man she loved, but whom her father had for
hidden some time before to enter his doorA
But Mary had gone: and she and her husband,
q poor mechanic, went out west to build up
for themselves a home and fortune. After
they were married, a day or two before they
were to start for Dakota, Mary and her hus-
band drove to the old home, where she got
out of the buggy and started to go into tho
house to say good-by. She did not ask nor
expect forgiveness from her father for what
she had done; but she knew her mother and
her brothers still loved her, and would gladly
have her come to see them So she just had
her hand on the gate latch, and, with tear
filed eyes, was taking in the dear and familiar
surroundings, when her father, coming round
the corner Of the house, saw her.
Don't yer come in here, he yelled, hoarse
ly. Don't step your foot inside O. that gate,
Mary Ellen Botsworth. You're no darter O.
mine. Take yer hatchet-faced paint-slinger
an git"
For q moment she stood as II stunned at
his words; then, without a word, turned and
went to tho buggy. Her husband helped her
in, and then, standing up and shaking his
whip at Uncle Billy, said: "Bill Botsworth,
II you wasn't my wife's father, I'd thrash you
till you couldn't walk for a week You OBJ
ject to me for q son-in-law only because am
poor; but I'll see the day can buy an sell
you's If you was black. darn you"
Here Mary laid her hand on his arm and
said, ''Stop, Will; it won't help things any to
quarrel; let's CO."
It was well that Win needed her advice,
for old Uncle Billy had started for the buggy
with murder in his eye; and there is no tell
Ing what might have happened had not Mil
ton and Jacob at this juncture made their
appearance and urged him to be quiet.
So Mary went from home an outcast; and,
Is the buggy disappeared around the bend In
the road, Milton turned to his father, and,
with tears in his eyes, said, reproachfully:
Pap, you oughtenter have done it"
And Mrs Botsworth, who had come to tho
door just in time to take In the affair, echoed
her sons words:
"No, pap, you was too hasty,n she added
'sMary Ellen was allus a mighty good girl;
an, though I'd ruther she'd not married
Win Kenney, yet hope the Lord viii pros
per them both"
"You are right, MOTHER said Jacob, the
elder of her sons, 'syou are right, mother.
'Filsey' 1.-THE nickname the boys had bestowed
upon Mary when she was toddler) was the
best girl in Indiany; kind an lovin'. an q
ulster worth the havin'."
AS for Uncle Billy, seeing his whole family
up in arms against him, he vouchsafed no re-
ply, but turning, strobe rapidly in the diree-
tion of the barn.
From that time on he had never spoken his
daughters name. And although he knew
that mother and the boys got occasional
a. lu~- L. 49,
4uiry showed that he ever thought of her. or
had the slightest interest in knowing whether
she was dead or alive.
But on the Christmas eve that have in
PRODUCED him to your notice, be sat by the
fire thinking: and his thoughts were Of her.
BE had long ago admitted to himself that he
vas too nasty when he drove his only daugh-
Ter away from his home; but he still re-
NAMED silent. At each family reunion, al
ways held on Christmas day, he had missed
ner. And as the coming one was to be held
It his house, and his brothers and sisters
With their families would be there, he, with
,ome bitterness of feeling, was breeding
over the fact that, through no fault of his,
,e reasoned, the pleasures Of the day would
30 mar-~i Everybody missed Mary; the
children ri ucphews and nieces would ask
or her au AK about her. despite tho ad-
nonitions they had received to the contrary. |
As he was usy with his thoughts, gazing |
he while moo lily into the fire, and now and |
hen TT, lcil.l. IN the fore sticks in spiteful
ort / Tag. til...ldma Botsworth suddenly |
DO. ',,a ,.i :;,r.: SKA
"ys ,rrer.i he another white Christmaa |
reis s:.es two on 'em right hand runnin'. |
rhr 4. .,i.s ago was mighty mild winter, |
,d :. :, rad N .y,.a.n Christmas that wear
Here ,Gc.. l..dy paused and heaved a
Ugh no oi.e sail anything and she contin- |
led: 81 recoileck now there was more buryin's |
hat year in the Bald Hill buryin' groun'
han there has been since all put together"
"Yes," assented Mrs. Botsworth, reflective
?, "a green Christmas alters makes fat