Waterbury evening Democrat. [volume] (Waterbury, Conn.) 1887-1895, 1891-06-25
FOR GOOD REASONS.
Why Sarah and Ira Were Never
Married

MttTTI6us
The story Of how nearly Sarah
Hochstetler came to marry Ira Tincher
in 1871 has grown to be a part Of the
history of Oregon county, Mo. Ira is
still comparatively young man, and
Sarah is still well on the sunny side of
fifty, but Jim Burnes, whom she did
marry, has been under the gravel and
rocks that cover his forty farm for
these ten years or more. Sarah Burnes
still lives on the farm, but in spite of
the fact that she is husbandless and yet
under fifty, she will never become the
wife of Ira Tincher, though for years
these two loved and swore a devotion
that should have its ending even be-
yond the grave, If then.
Old Jim Burnes lived near Alton, in
the center of the county, and young
Ira worked for him. Burnes was fifty
three and Tincher was twenty-five.
They had been together a year, when
the young man surprised his employer
by telling him that he was soon to
marry Sarah Hochsteler, who made her
home with ''the folks" a few miles
from the Howell county line, on the
West Plains road.
''Goin' ter marry Sary!" exclaimed
old Burnes. "Why, Try, she's older'n
you be, an weddin's er that sort allus
turns out bad"
The old man looked severely at his
young "hand," and Ira looked at the
ground. BurneS was gray and bewhis-
kered, but his form was as straight as
hickory sapling. His rough hands were
tucked under his trousers and he stood
with arms akimbo, eying the youth
who stood before him.
can BESIDES" went on old Burnes,
"I've been keepin' comp'ny with Sary
m'self fer more'n two years, an she's
jist right fer err man like me. I've got
ter farm, an I'm old ernuff, an--an' ter
tell Their truth, an not shock yer nerves
too much, Try, kinder reckon she
likes me-"
"Whatg" exclaimed the young farm
hand, you an my Sary!''
He stopped and buried his face in his
hands.
THAR, boy" resumed old Burnes.
softly, "don't fuss. Ez I said, Sary is
err year older n you, an she's only been
err foolin'. Sary thinks you as on'y her
boy, an she KANT hep her loolzin' up
ter me, yer know. My land an"
Ira slipped away while the old man
talked. True enough, he thought to
himself, he was only boy. He put
his hand to his face. There was no
beard there-only little punches of
short, struggling hairs around his chin
and up toward his ears. He kept walk
ing for an hour, not thinking where he
was going-only thinking of Sary and
her pretty ways-her clean, homespun
dresses and her merry laugh. Then he
stopped
''She said she liked me an she said
she'd marry me in Their summer, an
she never said nothin' erbout old Jim.
But he's er deacon in Their church, an
he wouldn't lie erbout tam Sary, she
never got er 1igion, an so she's been
er foolin' me-"
That was Ira's way of looking at it.
He studied the whole situation over
and over that afternoon. In the even
ing he went back to the Burnes cabin
down in the valley, and after he had
done the chores he went to old Jim and
asked for his money.
he said, 'an' I'm goin' down inter
Arkinsaw."
"Goin' ter quit?" asked old Burnes,
S~~ SASE'S1Js "SAS 5OL1y yer hdlub
stay fer Their weddin', but hyars yer
money, an hope yer'l have luck"
He paid his hand in shin-plasters-
he only owed him four dollars-wages
for month-and Ira put on his hat,
and gathering up the few things he had,
walked out of the little cabin. He left
old Burnes seated in front of the rough
log fireplace, squirting tobacco Juice
against the dying embers, close to
which the calloused soles of his bare
feet were being toasted. The old fell
low did not look up until he was sure
that Ira must be gone. Then he rose,
and putting on his cowhide boots, pre-
pared to leave the place.
''Thet war easy" he murmured.
Now, eff he don't go over ter Sary's to
find out erbout it, I kin tell Their gal
most anything. He'll jest erbout go
thar ter say good-by ter her--yes, he'll
do it, sure-sure he'll do it. Yes, I'll
go an beat him thar
Old Burnes fastened into his best
coat, and grasping stout stick, went