Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1891-09-11
THE OKALALOO'S GIFT.
BY LIEUTENANT W. A. CURTIS.

"Three hundred and fifty dollars,
Jim! My, amt we rich2 We can buy
a mule, a pillow and a new house, now.
I'm dreadful tired of living in that Oh
shanty; the roof leaks so, and the walls
are so full of cracks that let in the wind.
It's lots better than sleeping on door
steps and in back alleys nights and stay
ing anywhere days, but we are gentlemen
planters now, and we ought to have {
house; nice one, painted white, with
green blinds, is what 1 want t.
have"
"And Bob, let's buy a mother and g
little sister to live there with US and be
cozy-like. How much do you think we
could buy mother for2 Oh, how nice
that would be. We'd be out in the field:
working, and the mother would come
out and watch US, and the little sister
would play around and pick flowers, and
the nights when we came home, the
mother would tell us stories, just the
way mothers always do, and she would
take care OF US when we was sick"
"You cont buy mothers, you goosey,
you just has EN-, that's all, and if you
about it, you can't buy EN-"
81 should like to have a mother awful
wei. l never had one. l was just
found. I don't see why couldn't have
a mother just as much as any other
little boy, for | know l should love her.
suppose it's because I'm so poor. Old
Mrs. Flanagan was all had and when
l didn't make enough money playin' my
fiddle around the streets she ulster lick
me like sixty. Cricky, I am glad ain
out of St. Louis.
81 had mother Oncet, and they both
died when | was little Teller, seven
years old, and | went to work as news
boy and lived the best way could; the
worst way, it would be tor most people.
Mebbe we could advertise for somebody
to come here and live with us and be our
mother, but who would come here? |
guess we'd better wait till we begin to
grow rich, then we'll advertise Tor a
mother and see if it will do any good. l
don't expect it will, though. We're
brothers now, anyway, so you have one
relation"
The speakers were Bob Brown and
Jimmy Simpson, two boys, aged fifteen
and eleven respectively, and they were
standing upon the banks of the Okala-
loo River, Mississippi, watching the first
steamboat that had come up the river
that winter as it disappeared around a
bend. The dark, turbid river, swollen
by the heavy winter rains, flowed swiftly
between its low muddy banks. Back
from the river shores stretched an inter
minable forest of young trees. Beneath
the trees was a thick growth Of cane and
underbrush, making a well-nigh impas-
sable Jungle. A cleared space of several
acres-the site of future cotton field
a little hut with a cart beside it, and a
mule eating the tender tops of young
cane were the only signs of civilization.
One year before the boys were living
IN ST. Louis, the elder neWsbOy, the
younger a street musician. For several
years they had been fast friends, the
elder and stronger often protecting the
little musician from the attacks of evily
disposed street urchlns. They often
talked over plans for lettering their con-
dltiOn, and it was a resolution resulting
from one of these talks that caused Mr..
Matthew kincher, real estate agent, to
see walk into his office one summer
morning two small chaps whose impor-
tant air seemed strangely out of place
with their ragged clothes.
"We see sign out here, mister" said
Bob briskIy, Saying that you had farms
for sale at IS an acre"
''Oh, yes; those Mississippi lands.
Yes, they are only SIS an acre. Do you
know of anyone who wishes to buy"
81 want to buy myself" said Bob.
GLOW many acres would you ike?'
said Mr.. Kincher, sniling.
Three acres. I have $50 and I'll
need some money to begin farming
with"
"How are you going to get there
Do you know how far it is?"
Twenty miles, thirty miles. We can
walk"
"Twenty miles! Why, it ia hundreds
CT miles You would have to go by steam
boat, and after buying your three acres
you wouldn't have enough left to take
you down there"
Sadly the boys departed, their project
shattered. But Bob resolved to return