The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-10-14
RECONCILIATION.
Why the Old Line Fence Was
Torn Down.

II was a close, Sultry summer after
noon, with scarce a breath of air stir
ring, while the sun poured his scorching
rays from a cloudless sky. All shout
the old Burton farmhouse a deathlike
stiffness reigned. There were no sounds
of voices from within, NO creaking foot
steps on the uncarpeted floors; while,
without, even the songs of the birds
were hushed. The dingy, f~orlorn-look-
ing house, with its low implanted,
weather-stained exterior, its low doors
and its small windows, was even more
desolate and forsaken in appearance
than was its wont, and at first glance
one would have thought it completely
deserted. But a closer. observation
proved that such was not the case.
Isaac Burton, old and gray, and ben
under the cares and burdens of years
of trial and toll. sat on the doorstep OF
the house with his face buried in his
hands, now and then casting a furtive
glance through the open door in the di-
rection of a bed in a corne of the room.
While he sat there the sur crawled
down the western sky, casting its
shadow obliquely through the open
door, vet he seemed unmindful of the
fact that time was passing. Rising
from the steps, finally, he stood an in
slant listening to the slow, regular
breathing that came from the bed, then
walked out across the neglected yard,
muttering, half audibly:
she sleeps well, but | don't like the
'p~earance of her face"
Reaching the crooked rail fence that
separated the yard from the public
highway. old Isaac stopped and for a
little while stood looking down the
hard, white road that ran through the
long, straight lane to the east. The
road was deserted, not a living object
being visible on all the two miles of it
that lay within his view.
She ort to nave the DOCTOR" he NUT
tered, ''yit | don't like to leave her to
go and fetch him. She looks monty
quare bout the face In eyes, an I'm
afeerd she's bad tuck" Then, after a
short silence: IF only somebody was
passin' this way, SOS l could send word
to the mill an git the doctor"
Then Isaac cast a look in the direc-
ton of the ridge, a fourth of a mile to
the west, where a small log house,
similar to his own, stood, and some
thing like a sigh escaped him. Shak-
ing his head sadly, he turned away.
''Neighbors d be powerful helpin
an comfortin' just now" he unused,
SAN I'd give a heap if we had some.
never got lonesome when Indy was
up an about, but now she's down
feel like half the world is gone, an il
pears like l hope fer somebody to KEEP
me company. Them people" nodding
toward the house on the opposite
ridge, .'ain't no neighbors, n nc
matter what l can't go to then
for nothin'."
For some time old Isaac walked tc
and fro in the little path leading from
the gate to the door, then again h
went and leaned over the fence to loot
down the road. Instantly his fac'
frightened and a gladclight came int
his eyes, for away down the lane h
saw a man approaching. Nearly
quarter of an hour passed before tn
latter came up, but Isaac waited to
him and ~accosted him at once:
Sam, / never was so glad to see any
body as / am to see you. Are you goin
over to the mile"
YES" Sam replied, after eying oil
Isaac in~qulringly for almost a minute
"What has happened, Ike?"
"Lindy is bad sick. SAM" Ike said, IL
a low tone, IAN all night an ell da.
I've Deen stayin' with her alone.
knowed, too, that she ort to have tn
doctor, but l was afeerd to leave hel
an there want nobody to send. 70
kin tell him to come whom you git t
the mill"