Lawrence democrat. (Lawrenceburg, Tenn.) 1884-1925, 1892-12-09

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~ TI&ENAVTjHG SEaA the lst ana l0Jh,
HL ,xSh TiS &2H make my vaca-
S@ EA HiM}1 tion trip to the
vi Y NSaI lssSel stock farm of
Y s52S% SN George Barnett,
M x<!I|tfs wv !, a. few miles cut
NM -L.qT[-,1 of the thrifty Hts
-----ssszA=-~ - - = tie city of Mar
~ = ----ssss==l--- ION, Ohio. 1t is
always a ,bn mess t Up, but at the same
time my chief plea sure of d twelve
month George and 1 were seatmatesi
In the log schoolhouse. Now he raises.
blooded horses for the city market, and
] buy them. He is strictly honest and
not.a bit sporty, and his standing re-
fusal of his stock in my favor has
thrown many hundreds of dollars my
way. But George can afford it. He is
worth half a million. My trip this year
landed me at his bospitable door on the
evening of Tuesday the 7th. That
evening we sat on the broad south
porch of his handsome house, looking
across forty-acre meadow that sloped
gently to the adjoining grove. Across
this meadow, along a private roadway
connecting the river road on the west
with pasture on the cast, several
farm hands were leading the $50, 900
worth. of stock had come TO claim,
They looked nice, Of course, but George
and had fully discussed them by mail,
and he never was fond of stable or pad
dock talk in leisure hour.
"You asked me at supper how | came
to give'np graduating, and why | didn't
study law" lie observed. "You see
that furry white object moving along
the river road? Well, that covers the
man who wrought the change. That's
old Parson Baker, Sophia Barnett's
pastor, emeritus, of Three Locust
Methodist Episcopal church. He's
mothers beneficiary and pensioncr,
and he'll be mine if mother goes before
he does. He came into this country
sixty years ago, as an eXhortcr, and he
has ridden these roads more or less
steadily ever since. He whalcd father
at the raising of his FIRST log church for
trying to make him take drink of
whisky, and they were the thiclsest
kind of chums uutil father died Fa-
ther didn't marry until he was. forty,
and am the only child. BY the time
arrived father had accumulated what
in those days was fabulous fortune,
three hundred thousand dollars, and he
made it four hundred thousand dollars
before l was of age. He wanted to
make me horse breeder, but wanted
law. and there we hitched About "a
year before | should have finished at
college, he wrote me Il brief letter
the only one ever had from him--con
veying the information that If knew
what was good for me would be mar
ried before | was twenty-onc. That
letter bothered me great deal, be
cause father was no bully, ii he did
try to have little fun with the
epreacher, and couldn't quite see the
point between matrimony and stock
raising. The letter contained not q
word about educationor the, Any
how my birthday and commencement
day occurred the same week, and |
thought would risk the undesirable
consequences of waiting, whatever
they.wefe.' ~ #F ~ t*,
Two days before commencement
fatherwas stricken with apoplexy. He
was unconscious when got to the
farm, and lived only few hours. Ills
last few mouths, had been marked by
total incapacity for business and moth
er was nearly worn out with looking
after things. We buried him on the
day was to have graduated, and two
days before my twentyfi'st birthday.
Old Pap Baker was away down on the
other end of the circuit, andSmother Or
rdered that "A simple burial sseryioe
should be said by local exhorter of
our neighborhood, leaving the funeral
sermon to be preached by Pappy Baker
on his next appointment, as was often
done in those days, for there was not
another Methodist circuit rider within
forty miles that we knew of,
"That afternoon mother sent me to
town after fathers lawyer, who was
also custodian of the will, of the con-
tents Of which l knew nothing and
mother scarcely more. The lawyer
could not come out until the afternoon
of the next day, which was the eve of
my twenty-first birthday. When the
will was opened it almost knocked me
out. II left everything to mother, in
trust for me on the sole condition that
/ was to be married within twenty
four hours after my graduation. If |
did not graduate | was to be married
by twelve o'clock noon on the day |
became twenty-one years old. More-
over, if old Parson Baker was alive he
was to do the Job. In the event of my
failure, for any cause, to meet these
condition was to have one thousand
dollars, and the rest, after mothers
death, was TO go TO fathers three
nephewS, who were p!odding farmers
in an adjacent county.
"Now' here was nice layout. |
wasn't in6issolubly attached to the
idea of legal career, but neither was
! engaged, and the girl whom had
thought of in this connection was the
uduSHuSH VI NtuoW llNiuS uoN u lhe
road about two miles, whose face had
washed with snow and who had spelled
me down in district school, both times
innumerable. had not seen her for a
year and a half until she came to the
funeral, but, rs my good luck had it,
she was then in the house. The lawyer
assured me that the will was perfectly
valid, as my father had been notorious
ly too smart for any other man in the
county as a bargain driver, and no jury
could be found to declare him of un-
sound mind.
"Parsun Baker lived in little village
twenty-five miles down the pike, where
there was neither railroad nor tele-
graph station. | explained the situa-
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