Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1890-03-08


sewing society! No association of
women ever knew of can compete
with these gatherings of men in our
small towns on Sunday afternoons, or
on election, Or holidays, for gossiping.
Many family feuds have arisen from
these Sunday male gossip gatherings
in the towns and hamlets of the South
which resulted in assassinations and
bloody battles between the families in
volved for several generations.
l did not care to spend the Sabbath
in one of those small towns, SO Istopped
at the first inviting house [ came to on
the roadside that locke like there
was plenty of provender for my team,
q shelter for my buggy and room for a
stranger" as wayfarers are called in
the provincialism of the country, to
sleep in.
In response to my "Hello!" an old
lady came to the door. vigorously knit
ting on woolen sock Peering over
her stecl-rimmed spectacles, she asked
what was wanted.
81 would like to stay here over Sun
day, if | can. do not wish to spend
the Sabbath in town, and am will
ing to pay for my accommodation and
for my horses
"Wall, my son Hank amt here now,
but his wife is I'll fetch her. Hanks
gone ter town, an l low she kin tell
you more about il. Oh, jimmy"
In answer young woman of about
twenty-five years came to the door.
She said l would be welcome to stay il
would put up with what the family
had as they had made no prepal a
tons for company. my husband will
be home soon." she said
A hoy was called, who took my team
to the "lot," and went into the house.
1t Wa one of those great double log
hoases, "chinked" with cement, and
whitewa he'd outside and ceiled within
and paper, d. It was o warm day,
about two hours before sunset, and the
great opol fire, lice was used to set
flower pos in with native flowers,
which filled the rooms with delicate
pe, fume. In looking over the album
on the table. l came across girls face
l had seen in Illinois years before on a
trip to the country AS the hostess
passed Though the front room, l
a kel her if she knew the original of
that little girls picture. She STAN
nicred and said it was hers when she
was small ! then told her when and
where was at her fathers house, and
ascertained that she had met her hus-
band, Mr. Hank Adams, a Texas
planter, unculturcd but big hearted,
while he was up there buying some
fine horses; they fell in love at sight,
ana had been happily married more
than year. AS she said this, her
beaming face told of supreme happi-
ness and contcntment. and in speak
ing of her husband, her voice took on
that soft, low accent and tone which
told of deepest love and entire conf
dence. L mention these things be-
cause had them forcibly and pain
fully brought back to me within the
succeeding twenty-four hours.
When her husband came III she in
PRODUCED me as an old acquaintance,
whom she had met in her girlhood at
her fathers, in Illinois. He gave me a
cordial greeting, aud 1 heard him kiss,
ing his pretty little wife in the next
room moment afterwards, and telling
her that nothing was too good for any
one who had known her folks" anG
her.
The next morning Hank was called
away early to go to lower plantation
he had a few miles from home to attend
to some breaks in the fences made by
cattle which had broken into his corn
and cotton feds during the night.
Mrs. Adams took the family buggy and
went alone to church few miles away,
rs her husbands younger brother
"had ter go and ride ter church
with a girl mp Their load who he is
strutti / round" his mother confiden
TALLY informed me- This lef5 no one
ut the house but old Mrs. Adams and
me. Being informed that dinner woald
not be ready on Sunday until about
four O'clock in the afternoon, strolled
out in the woods with book, about
noon, to enjoy quiet repose under the
shade of the trees and the thick hang
ing vines so common to that locality.
1t may have been imagination, and
it may have been the spirit of proph.
ecy, but I stopped reading to hear
the signing of the great tall pine trees
as the zephyrs gently swept through
them. 1t seemed to be whispering to
them a story of sadness and tragedy.
AS the soft voice of the southwest
winds played upon the long needles of
the pines, l could hear them say,
"O-o-o-h, o-o-o.h! W-w.o o-e-e, w-w-a
o-e-e' S-s-s-o-or-r-row!"