The Lebanon express. (Lebanon, Linn County, Or.) 1887-1898, 1891-01-02
DOC.
! simple Tals of Baekwoods Ilfe.

II. honv arms, and short, weakly
king legs. aud rather sickly-look-
=, frizzled up, straw-colored hair on
as head. There was no personal
eauty about Docs face and figure,
s ad vet he was not unusually hard fav-
I'D He was commonplace Only
that and nothing more Only pea
in \ pod where 4 dozen peas of similar
appearance reposed. Only little /
wire-grass boy, with not one redeem |
ing feature about him except his eyes. |
They were only remarkable for the pa |
thetic expression that fingered there. |
What little light that ever flashed from |
them was Of that sorrowful east that |
one observes lingering on the western
horizon after a DAYS rain has closed |
in a humid sunset.
Doc lost his mother. That was the
tie that bound US to him. She was a
commonplace wire-grass woman, but
in her HHcultured soul dwelt the same
traits of maternal love and cherishing
tenderness that are supposed to illum-
inc the high-born souls of those grand
DANES whose white hands have never
battled against a hard and evil fate
for the simple necessities of prolong-
ing existence She had nourished and
cherished her little boy. as only fond
mother can nourish and cherish weak
and fragile child. Ever on the watch,
she had stood between him and all the
Wild streams of adversely that ragged
about their humble log cabin in the
desolate barrens.
When she died Doe took it to heart
to a greater extent than any of us
thought possible. He had been such
puny, peevish. pettish sort OF boy
that we thought that only his selfish
L.
Doc was older than his age.
Well / remember how mother used
to toast the erispest bits of brown
cornbread, softened with the fresh,
sweet butter, and how she used to put
9s;ss- 1nIaan of that brown mush
s,,era,. s., his coffee, so as TO induce the
little fellow to eat.
ssYcn know his ma is dead, she
rcd n say. s.and we must try toESep
him from missing her in exeffy way we
And we vsre learning. We were
being taught the grandest lesson in
human lore-the creed of unselfsh-
ness.
We could not get him to Join us very
often in any play. He was too weak
But when the afternoon sun shone
through the riffs IN the great pine for
est ne NOulo creep Out Ott tiAC sunny
side with US and we would adjust our
sports to his strength Sometimes he
would look up from his play, and. with
his ewes full of tears. he would ex-
claim: my ma IS dead! l can't never
see her no naorer' Then he would sob
and moan as if his little heart would
break. and | am not ashamed to say
we would cry too. Might not the
good Lord take our dear mother, too?.
we asked ourselves.
Ali my sainted mother! Thy love.
lighted brown eyes have been closed
to earthly scenes for many summers
They closed your poor, toil-worr
hands above your cold, still heart
long, long time ago, and the tall pine
have shed from their dropping
bonghs the purest distilled dews 8
heaven above Your lonely grave; ant
vet in my dreams ] see that face oftei
and again, and I never accomplish
good deed or am guilty of bad on
but what yours is the first name tha
flashes through my intellect. A maj
may have 10000 friends, even tw
well-beloved wives, but never but on
mother. Blessed be that holy nam
above all earthly treasures most sacre
and longest cherished.
As the spring DAYS grew warmer an
the timid wood violets peeped forth 0
banks where the sun fingered longest
our protege grew more robust. The1
was even a faint tinge of blood in h
paIlid cheek after short walk aboJ
the plantation.
Deeper green grew the woodland
The rugged pines even touched then
selves up with a few gay tufts OF
softer tint, and from their queer bio
SONS fell showers of gold dust tn;
covered the still surfaces of the wat'
ponds. The trailing jasmine coyere
itself with golden bloom, and Il
honeysuckle and dogwood blesson
made the swamps and lowlands rad
ant with gay hues and redolent wit
delicate perfume. Birds sang amor
: the bursting buds on the crab-app
tree, and the blue arch of heaven w
gilded with the fine gold of the life-gi
ing sunlight.
Our sports and pastimes would see
funny to YOU We went fishing night
It was only half a mile to the cree
and on a little bluff that overhuBg t
dark waters we could build our cam
fires, and then cast our crude tack
in the gloomy eddies where the fiji
light played in titful waves of light a
shadow. Doc did love to fish. '
would dig in the trash heaps for muc
y worms oEsSfn the pine logs for sa
yers, and then we would carry
tackle for him, and walk slow, a
help him across the sloshes, and VIII
he would catch mudeat we would S
it was a big nefellow.
Doc was not an unappreciative be
He sang those queer, old-fashion
songs for, ,us-sengs which he had hea
his mother sing. l have sat and
tened to his Barbara Allen as
echoes ran riot among the caves a
iungles, till the big owl returned
challenge with mocking fit OF inss
laughter.
The old song comes back to me W
the quaint rhythm as write:
He sent his servant to the town,
Where Barb'ry was dwein.
Sayin you must go TO me own master
Ef your name be Barb'ry Alien
Then there was another stahza t
was very affecting indeed:
liked adown the stree's
lin