The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-03-18
p NEAR SHAVE.


goin' to do my best to tell story OF sum-
mat that happened TO me, and which be
yond all doubt was more than little bit
out of the common run OF things. And
while you're listenin' to mel mean while
you're a-readin'-you must please think of
me as Amos Kerr, rough collier, who's
spent the best part of his life, boy and
man, at the bottom OF q coal pit.
1t amt cheerful sort of life, as you
may easily guess, and if folks thought the
matter out they'd be ready to make ex-
cuses for us if, when we get up into the
fresh air, we are bit rougher and IN
fiddler in our ways than most men. 1
don't say we're bound to be wild, but i
want to put it so that you'll remember
there is two sides to this question as well
as most others.
warn't so bad a lad as some / worked
among. l could drink and swear an d
gamble my money away at cards and
pigin' flynn, but for all that l
than l was il ii hadn't been for
Margaret Kerr, and for the great
love I'd had for her ever since she had
been little toddlin' thing ofeight and me
a big, clumsy lad of thirteen. You see
there were five years between us and
we'd grown up as brother and sister, for
her father and mine were brothers. l
should like TO tell you what Meg was like,
only know l couldn't never find the
words that would suit her curly chestnut
hair and her big blue eyes, and what
could l say of her sweet mouth and the
bloom on her soft cheeks and the little
dimple that came when she smiled; and
of how she looked when l grieved her,
which did only too often from the very
first, only, thank Heaven, never vexed
her SO bad that she left off caring for me
was left an orphan at thirteen. My
mother had died at my birth and my
father was killed in Welsh colliery; SO,
as las nat'ral, went to live with my
uncle, who kept the Gross Keys" inn at
Cannock. He got me job at the West
Cannock colliery, and so il came about
that grew up with my cousin Margaret.
My uncle, Job Kerr, was a well-doin' man.
He kept his public very strict and
wouldn't encourage no evil way there.
lie was used TO say that no honest man
could hope TO thrive on the money that
wastrils and losels spent on maxim beasts
OF themselves. And no doubt he was
right, for his house had good name, and
he got on year by year till he'd bought Il
bit OF land out Hedgeford way and few
shares in some Of the new collieries.
"It's the duty of every man to be savin',"
ho would say, both as regards his old age
and as regards his children. We've only
got Meg left, but that don't hinder me
being as careful rs If all three of the BARNS
had lived istead OF only one. Megll make
a real tidy wife for any man-brought up
as she's been-even ii her husband got
nothing along of her; but she won't 90
from her home emty-handed, and, there
fore, don't mean TO give her TO man as
don't think we'll Of
This he said 80 often that knew his
sentiments Oft by heart, and | knew, too,
that he didn't think so very well OF me.
No more did my aunt, who was even harder
TO please than him. Perhaps you'll say
that l ought to have KEEP straight, seein'
that my lot was thrown among them as
held themselves above all low ways; but
accordin' to my experience, things in gen.
erRl, and lads in pertickler, don't always
go azactly as they oughter do, in spite OF
all that's said TO the contrary. There was
plenty OF evil put in my way. and II L
stood out again IL four days there came a
fifth when / made mess o matters.
Now, my uncle and aunt took too little
account o the good spell, and deal too
much o those wretched times when-with
n chap liked 'ticing me along, and "A
chap l hated jeeTin' and sneerin' at mel
did what i was sorry for afterward, only
couldn't undo. But / suppose they were
pretty patient with me, for | lived over
ten years in their house, which made me
Internationally and Maggie eighteen, and
all those ten ears had gone on lovin' her
more and more every day; but had
not spoken of IL. Tor my earnin's were
naught to speak OF, and, as I've shown, my
uncle wasn't like TO have let her listen 20
me. Yet they let her 90 for stroll with
me of n Sunday evening up on TO the
Chase, and there we'd sit us down on the
short grass and heather and looked across
at the sun setting behind the Wrekin and
the little villages with soft cloud OF blue
smoked over them here and there in the
valley. Then l would tell Margaret nll |
could tell her OF what had befalien me in
the week, and she would talk 10 me az no
one else had the mack, and would walk
home beside her listenin' 20 her and
maxim up my mind TO good resolves, which
/ didn't always keep, and which | was
mortal ashamed of breakin'; but who
knows what would have become OF mo II
| had never made them?
All that time-though often told her
there WAS no one in the world cared for
except her, yet | never tried 10 win q
! promise from her, or TO find out IL she
really spoke all that was in her heart when
she said
you are the only brother I have, Amos
80 i must love you as much rs ! should
| have loved the little brother and sister
| who died before 1 was born"
In the winter we used 10 sit together in
the little room behind the bar, where only
very Old customers ever took the liberty
OF comin'-Meg with her work, and me
with book, which used 10 try and spell
out with helpin' hand from her. IL was
my uncle who served in the bar, and my
aunt helped him on a busy night. Meg
never went there-that was one o. the
ways she'd been brought up careful. IL
was her work 10 see TO the dodgers rooms
and their cookin', when there were lodg-
| ers-which was oftener than not. She
and often had the little parlor all TO our
selves. and IL any one came in i was apt
to feel sorely put out, IA II no one else had
a right there; only, naturally, couldn't
say aught about such thing
1t was when Meg was about eighteen
that this all began to change little.
Firstly, could see that my aunt and
uncle were gettin' shy of our walkin' about
together, and were doin' all they could to
hinder 1t quietly: nextly, came Mr.. Ralph
Henderson 10 turn everything topsy-
| turvy.