The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-06-24

down below, he set his teeth together a
little firmer than usual, and swore-Ewore
that he would continue TO find such neces-
saries, and cook them, and moreover do
his duty by ''them kids so long as the
Lord ordained it"
There was little in his life, but mileage
any how, it seemed, go he kept his daily
rounds, batting his traps at night, and
taking the game from them in the morn
ing. Yet there was one diversion for
him aside from the dullness OF his exist
ence. That was in the evening, especially
on bad nights, when the tallow dip swan
eaily on its golden sea of oil and painted
the interior of the cabin with
rudy stains, when the two
little heads were near his
and he told them long stories about red
Indians, and wigwams, colored beads and
scalps, belated coon hunts, and swamp
fires. or deep caves and high waters, and
afterward was compelled TO draw their
cot very near his on retiring and let the
dip burn until they were fast asleep. But
this was somehow very pleasant to him.
While it may seem rather unkind that
George should be compelled to grow
older while so burdened it was true he
did, even though he had always been old.
and the little girls grew more beautiful
even though they had always been beau
tiful, and they likewise grew larger and
stronger, and lifted things about the
house and hemmed things about their
edges. Wash day came at last, and along
with it after awhile came other improve
ments-civilization and better cooking
believe it or not, all these things come
they come fast, and George grew in the
meantime very much older.
When the red sun of q summer day had
scorched and dried the thinner edges OF
meadow grasses and made the snow
white heads of small clover sigh with
peculiar fragrance, and all over the wide
stretches of heated land the humble bee
shot his velvet person, leaving behind
that droning cadence so terrible to lesser
insects, and through banks of fluffy clouds
the fierce ball Of fire plunged down, down,
and forever deeper into the CORY western
skies, then it was that the winding path
leading over the shrubbery upland and
across the thistled fields, seemed in it's
course to join at times with certain
crevices between low clouds and wander
on down into the heart of the sunset, a
beautiful silver thread, that, in fancy.
Gray and the Kids" with an eternity
that was full of color and of promise.
And when ever, along that path the girls
came or went they seemed ike fairy shep-
herdesses of old, on their way across the
sky, gathering together the recreant hosts
OF summer flocks, spilled like milk about
the bluest OF canopies. Or so IL seemed to
George, as he sat in the door way watch
ing them while the peaceful curls OF
smoke rose from his pipe and drIfted away
with softer musings into the heart of other
days, where in among the hills OF another
county he once met and loved-but
no matter, such thoughts are pirates, and
will invade the bosom of prOuder mortals
I than old George at times, and leave be-
1 hind them strange farewells that often
| coax a tear from its clustered retreat, and
! make the hand a trihe nervous, when
raised against these intrusions. Such
thoughts were strangers 10 George
himself and hardly welcome, yet they
touched an inner chord that had not
sounded for many long year, end in
| truth never did sound distinctly, but was
sufficiently audible and uncertain as TO
bring back an indefinite sense OF delight
| that was so sweet il even grieved the old
fellow, and, for the time, he put his pipe
away in its box and sat for long while
with his head on his hands.
George never said anything when he
could otherwise get around it, 80 when
| two very bashful and very stupid country
fellows stopped each Sunday before his
cabin and whitfield sticks nearly all the
| day long George said nothing. In fact
there was nothing at all said during the
/ day. If George knew what it meant or
saw why the girls put on their best ging-
hams and hid themselves accordingly on
the other side of the house, he said moth
ing moro than to wish the young men
good-by in the evening with the hope that
they would be exceedingly good to them
selves, for some reason best known
perhaps to the father of that fraternal
phrase.
1t is impossible for people to hide from
the eye of the Creator and it was per-
haps just as impossible for the Gray girls
to remain forever from the young fellows
whose cheeks were red and whose limbs
were strong.
And at last all the sticks were whitfield,
and old George had become used to seeing
the happy young people wander away to-
gether, but said as little as possible and
was always pleased. Death and taxes are
inevitable-so is marriage. at least it was
so with the Gray girls. Every wind that
came seemed to watt them a little nearer,
and every wave seemed to wash them a
trife further on toward such natural con-
sequences. While these little winds came
and went, as do the merest incidents Of
early spring sproutings, still every day
that passed was one day less between the
Gray girls and the hOnest-hearted. sun
swarted whittlers of sticks, who followed
up every late Sunday stroll with that per-
sistent courage known only to men whose
hearts are set on doing something for
which they may likely be sorry.
And so il came about that an unusual
number of pumpkin pies decorated the
Clearly papered shelves of the little rustic
kitchen on one Sunday night. There was
kettle of beautiful corn pone basking in
its burnt and cloven disk. There was also
quite display of dried apples, stewing
and steaming over the cracking fire. II
was a rainy Saturday night, and there was
wind in the rain, beating and pelting the
clapboards that curled their uncovered
ends up in the weather, giving the old roof
Q ragged appearance, which deepened in
the coming dark, and with the flicker OF
light at either window, looked to the ap-
preaching traveller like very ugly
head, with filmed eyes. But IL did
not look 30 10 old George, who came
slowly splashing across the fields with