Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1893-11-03
CHAPTER III.

the two hours that followed. lie came
like the benign spirit of some old fairy
tale, bearing to me bright promise fol
the future. Now, when long years
have passed, with all the full, strange
record with which this narrative deals
/ can think of the hour and the man in
no other way. 1t was my hour oi
promise-he was my fairy prince.
''Bostockr' said my father, holding
out his hand, Little Pierce Bostock:
Why, it don't seem possible"
eyes, that reminds me, Amos, ot
how we used to wrestle, side hold. You
used to throw me.
'I don't think | could do it now,
said my father.
II reckon OF, Amos. Well my old
chum, I'm mighty glad to see you. Will
you believe it, Amos?-being in Bos-
ton for the very first time since l went
south. the thought struck me to come
up here, and hunt up old friends and
schoolmates. There's few of them left;
and I'm right glad I've found you"
81 feel fattered by your remem-
brance and your kindness, Pierce. It's
but a poor hospitality have to offer
you; but you're welcome to it. Come
to the house, and we'll sit down and
talk over old days.
''We'n have to talk fast, Amos. I've
mortgaged my time at the north, and |
must leave Boston tomorrow. l can
give you two hours only. This is your
boy, eh?-ine manly fellow. What's
his name?-Dorr? Why, is it posi-
BILE you called him after my father?'
"Indeed l did, Pierce. You remem-
Der how kind he was to me. The boys
name is Dorr Bostock Jewett."
"Now 1 like that; I'll not forget it.
Come along to the house as you said. -
His beaming smile captivated me; as
we walked along, while he busily
talked with my father, he playfully
shouldered my hoe, and took hold OF
my hand. Arrived at the house, my
mother was introduced.
1t was the first exhibition of high
bred politeness l had ever seen, and it
impressed me. In the life that had
been living, duty and labor went for
everything, courtesy was scant
enough. Mr.. Bostock removed his hat,
gently took my mothers hand, and
bowed very low.
Extremely glad to meet you,
madam. Your husband is my oldest
and dearest friend, though I've seen
nothing of him since we were mere
lads"
''Sit down, sir, and make yourself
comfortable" said my mother. ''Will
you stay to tea?'
"Thank you'll shall not have time,
he replied, looking at a massive-cased
gold watch. 1.-THE train leaves the
village at seven; it's almost five now
''If you were raised in New Hamp
shire, perhaps you haven't forgotten
how to eat mush and milk"
"Why, bless me, madam, can you
give me a bowl of it? My old niggel
cooks get up corn bread, corn cake an6
all kinds of corn fxings, but they cant
make mush. I'd like it above al
things"
With a napkin under his fat chin
our jolly guest sat at the table, partak
ing with evident relish of the simple
entertainment that was set before him
He was keen observer, notwithstand
ing his easy, careless way, and / thinl
Never had the house and it's furnish
ings seemed as shabby to me as now.
beg pardon, Amos; but you know
everything is permitted between ole
friends. You don't thrive well here
NO" said my father, ''and 1 fear
never shall. You remember something
about this old place; twenty acres ou
of the thirty no better than ston,
quarry. Bad luck has followed me
I've had bad seasons, slim crops, sick
ness and debt. It's hard struggle
almost a hopeless one"
I'm sorry for you, Amos; from tn,
bottom of my soul l am. don't know
of a fellow who deserved good fortun,
ahead of you. If you'd struck ou
when l did, you'd have succeeded any
where. New England is good plac,
to rear men, but no place at all TO
them to spread, you know. I dom
| brag, but I've got a right to point witt
some pride to what I've done since
saw these hills last"
"You are at the south, infer" sait
my father
1--WE one thousand acres of the bes
cotton land in Mississippi below Vicl1s
burg. plant every acre of it; and
raise sugar in Louisiana"
Il hope you're not STAKEHOLDER
SIR" said my mother.
80, Tye few niggers-hardly
hundred. I've had to hire some tn
last season"
At the Mortified looks of my mothe
and the painful silence of my fathe
Mr.. Bostock wiped his mouth an
laughed.
''rd like to have you come down an
see how some of those lazy cattle i'm
pose upon me. But, dash it all, Amos
/ haven't time to discuss the institr
tion, and it wouldn't do, either-w
should quarrel. OF course you're a
abolitionist. | remember you in tn
old days; you were cut out for one
Let's talk about something else"
You have a family, of course
Pierce?"
MY wife died few years ago. "
one child, Coralie, little witch c
| d
run by the servants. know all abou
the plantation, but 1 haven't muc
control inside. Everything is lavisl
and it's a wonder to me, sometime
that I'm not poor man. But com
down, and you'll find hospitalit
enough"
For more than an hour he talked, il
terrupted only by an occasional que
tion or exclamation. l did not observ
then-long afterward l had occasio
to recall the fact-that he parried SCI
eral attempts of my parents to dra'
him out about his deceased wife an
his daughter. He talked interesting
ly, almost eloquently, about the cult
vation of cotton, the scenes in the in
mense fields when the picking time a
rived, the ginning, the baling and th
shooting" down the long incline
steamboat. To me it was all a ne
revelation; / listened with all IN
senses.
He turned to me brisl1ly with tn
question:
''Well, my lad, how would you liz
to go down and see all this for you
self?''
above all things, sir"
Il say, Amos, why not send hi
down to me, after few years? L
put him in the way to be rich"
L sat with clasped hands, eagerl
looking from one to the other of II
parents. Their hearts were touche
by the thought of parting with m
and by the generous interest of NJ
| RncAnn1.