Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1889-09-13
THE UNION PICNIC.

ter. and Henry verhawk drove up the road
the husiness of the day bad begun all
along They met two neighborS with their
market wagons ON their way t" the city,
and one with a load of bone phosphate al
ready returning from the near factory.
Women were opening their front doors or
drawing water in quiet commencement of
their long days work.
1t was August. \ little later and an ex-
cessive heat would dawn. Even now, be-
fore the sun had risen, il was damp rather
than cool along the dew-wet road.
Schraader had his hat off, and wiped the
perspiration from his broad face. Sehraa-
der's was peddler'S wagon, with an um-
brella oyer the seat, which was not meant
to accommodate three. Schraader's large
bulk was deposited in the laps of his
daughter and Henry Verhawk with dis
comfort to all But Henry was one of the
| family He had been a neighbor all his
| life and he was to marry Mary Schraader
| whenever their tranquil, unhurrying minds
should agree upon it; he was past thirty
and she twenty and it had been for
several weeks arranged that they should on
the day of the Union Sunday school picnic
at Hunts Grove, twelve miles away, give
! Henry lift. for Henry was going.
Schraader had to-day a new stock of the
tinware and merchandise he sold, and he
/ and Mary who helped her father ON his
buster trips, had made an early start. But
| Henry had been ready and waiting. He
was as pleased to go to the picnic as he
would have been twenty years back. He
sat with primness that chafacterized him,
a slim form in a suit of white linen and
broad -brimmed white hat with green
lining. His face clean shaven and guileleSS,
| shone with his happiness in his coming
| treat. He would attain it by walking seven
miles, and twelve miles back that night;
but in his bright anticipation the cost was
| small.
Nobody spoke as they drove on. They
had lived their lives together till their
information was all but identical, and
| their ideas. This, added to their rustic
slowness of tongue, made it likely that
| WHICH, htuEl tdlnt W ste Mdll Nulludl
evenings they would maintain unbroken
silence from beginning to end of the inter
| view, nor feel anything but serene content;
and they logged on unembarrassed, in the
calmness of that thorough mutual knowl-
edge which is the sureSt promise of married
happiness, the tinware keeping mp
drowsy rattling. When they reached the
turn which separated them, Henry got
down.
Its going to be hotter'n twas yister-
day; you better take it SLOW" Schraader
said and Mary turned her serious face,
broad like her fathers, and plain, and look
ed after him as he tramped on alone.
lie took off his hat i'll the shade of the
woods on both sides, thick and dark and
vibrant with wild sound sounds. snd walk
ed briskly. lie was almost agow with his
boyish eagernesS. He had so early start
that he thought he should get there in time
to miss none of it.
The rustling grove was thickly bordered
with the vehicles which had brought the
picnickers hither. OF the latter there were
in the neighborhood Of thousand. Nom
inally it was the yearly union picnic of the
6 - e :, " = . =; rs
villages, but the Sunday schools brought
with them the settlements almost entire
Henry sat on fallen tree in the thick
of the scene. He had almost been the first
arrival. Now it was eleven, and the picnic
was well under way. Thus far he had en-
joyed every moment. He had travelled
round the grove watching the constant
arrivals; now and then he embarrassed and
hitched the horses of women who had come
without men, and had taken one to the
watering trough. He had looked on at the
erection of the various venders' stands, and
had watched the assembling of the minis
ters of the congregations on the platform,
before which ran few rods of board
benches. Now there had been full activity
for an hour. a merry go-round was i'll
! operation, the refreshment stands We're
gaining patronage, and up and down, in
and out, round and round, wandered the
thousand picnickers. To Henry it was IA
marvellous scene. He sat with his hands
on his knees and his lips apart, unconscious
of all but his simple, half-bewildered en-
tertainment
Two girls had been for some time stroll
! ing back and forth before him with arms
intertwined. Henry had seen them arrive,
with dozen other girls and youths in the
bottom of an evergreen trimmed lumber
| ,f. |, l.,.to 4 q.
them at a distance, exchanging occasional
insinuating sallies, but for the present held
at bay with pert, conscious independence,
the forerunner of the full and giggling sur
render intended.
They had looked at Henry as they pass
ed and repassed him, breaking, with the
titterings which marked their youth, into
whispered ridicule.
whats he gawping att"
Goodness knows"
Looks as though he was stuck there
don't her
81 guess he is. Dave said he'd been set
ting there since four o'clock this morn
ing"
They Uttered in unison Dave was one
of the pursuing youths.
''Id like to know if he can stir guess
| III see, said the other. She nugded her
companion, tossed her head daringly. and
as they came opposite him dropped her
handkerchief
He looked at her, pleasantly smiling.
He had thought they might be speaking of
him, and wondered what they We're saying.
Now they were standing loiterin gIy, their
eyes upon him, and as his own Travelled
from them to the handkerchief and back
again, he got up and picked it up. But
neither took it,
'Its LiPs," said its owner
''You know better; you dropped it your
self" Lii retorted, with stihed shrek.
did II" she demanded She threw up
her chin, with bright eyes upon him.
al didn't see" he answered. still smil-
ing.
lie stood straight, with his feet close to-
gether as was his wont, and looked at
her. She was n tall girl of fifteen red
checked and plump. She wore white
dress, with trimmings of embroidery, and
a blue sash and hair ribbon, from which
her hair fell in those round curls which
tell of rags overnight. A black rubber
chain and bracelets did duty for jewel