The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1892-12-21
THE PEDDLER.

perhaps possessed more of an air OF
quiet neatness than any other in the
Sandy Fork neighborhood. The house
was one of those odd specimens of
frontier architecture, fast fading
from the landscape, before the sweep
ing strides of better civilization.
Not, however, that it was mean in any
particular Thirty years ago it was a
palace compared to the other rude log
huts in the vicinity. 1t was built of
hewn logs, and made what is called
double. 1t was weather-boarded with
out and plastered within, giving it an
air of ncatness as well as comfort. The
front yard was covered with sweet,
tender coating of early spring blue
grass, and the oaks and Gins had begun
to assume their summer garb. The
front gate was closed and standing by
it, leaning over and looking down the
Newton road, was woman. She was
beautiful, possessing real charms. She
was not young, not one of those radiant
beauties who dazzle the eyes of silly
society swells, but possessed of sweet,
matronly, home-like face, the beauty
only found in mothers.
Perhaps a passer-by or casual OBJ
server would have discovered nothing
attractive, much less beautiful, in that
commonplace woman standing by the
gate gazing down the "big road" with
eagerness in her face. But had he
paused he would have seen that, plain
as those features were, they were very
regular; that, although she had lines of
care, they were almost obliterated by
lines of pride; that her brown eyes, too
dark to be blue, and too light to be
black, were filled with the eager joy OF
Il mother expecting the return of a
child.
Mrs. Stuart was nearly forty years OF
age, and, had it not been for her
matronly appearance, might have
passed for several years younger. On
this mild May evening she stands by
the gate with all mothers fondness
and pride, awaiting the return of her
Oldest son from college. He has grad
uated and is expected on the evening
train at Newton, whittier his younger
brother has gone to meet him with the
"spring wagon" His father had gone
aweek before to the city where Warren
was attending the medical college to
hear his sons graduating Grafton.
Mr.. Stuart was the model farmer
of the Sandy Fork neighborhood. He
was not the wealthiest nor the most
aristocratic, perhaps, but then he was
what is called well-to-do in the world,
very quiet and pleasant, having but
few enemies and many warm friends
Perhaps he was not as wealthy or inhu.
entail as either Taylor, Evans OF
Arnold, whose farms were near OF
adjoining his, but his word went as far
as either, and he never gave his note.
As Newton was west of the Stuart
farm, the rays of the setting sun fell on
the womans face, and she was com.
PEELED to shade her eyes with her clean
white apron.
"Oh, mother, are you looking for
them already P" asked a bright, CHEEKY
voice from the house, and the next
moment there came bounding down
the gravel walk u beautiful girl about
fifteen years of age, with large dark
eyes and hair. She pushed the gate
open and took look down the road,
shading her eyes with her hands.
"Is it time, mother ?" she asked, for
her mother had been too busy with her
thoughts and Watching to answer her
first question.
ayes, dear, it is almost time" the
mother answered, her very tones denot-
ing kindness.
'How long have you been here,
motherp"
mot long"
'Oh, mother, I knew you would be
watching for Warren long before he
came. Do you suppose he has grown
much ?"
mo, not since we saw him."
"He has been gone SO long; oh so
long"
Eyes, he's been gone all winter"
"And now he'll be a doctor, won't
hep"
"Yes, l hope So" the mother
answered, as if she knew that every
diploma does not make the man whose
name is written therein doctor.
"Oh, want to see brother Warren
so bad" said the anxious sister, swing
ing upon the gate and humming a
tune.
The youngest brother, who had
remained at home to pillow in the
fields, now came by riding one pillow
horse and leading the other, and asked
eff it was not time for them to Gomez"
"Almost, William" said the mother;
ego and put your horses away and feed
them; by that time they will be here,
j expect"
William, who was only thirteen years
of age, was rather young for a plow
boy, but he was large and able to "man-
age q team" almost as well as Clar-
ence, who was four years older.