The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1893-02-04
HEZEKIAH'S FIDDLE,

They lived on the edge Of the
swale, down toward the beautiful
Mahoning, where the growth of tall
hickorles, under which we children
used to find the biggest nuts and in
its deeper recesses we searched for
the shyest ferns of waxy Indian
pipe. The family was a sort of
neighborhood institution. Our
elders laughed at their shiftless ways,
but depended on their skill and
lore.
Aunt Rachel had had a large
family. She had grown sons and
married daughters. Little Hezekiah
was the last of the fock-the baby,
many years younger than all the
others. He was a slender, stopped
child, with pleasant, pale, wistful
little face.
The Foutys were not manages.
They came always to country when
it was new and land could be got
for the asking. Then, when other
farmers moved in and land appre-
ciated little in value. they were
sufficiently in debt and behindhand
to sell out and "move on" into the
wilderness again.
The tall, long legged sons hunted
and made 'possum traps. They
knew the season of all the birds
they had ingenious ways of watching
partridges, dressing hides, and cur
ing meats; could make the most
infallible turkey calls; and, whether
there was any wheat or not, always
had supply OF sweet, home manu-
featured tobacco. Aunt Rachel was
authority in all matters of dyeing.
She was an unconscious artist, and
could produce magic tints and COM
binations from the golden rcd, Span
ish needles, and a few handfuls of
wild forest leaves and blossoms.
She had always a goodly store of
Injun turnip for a sore throat, and
snake root for the hurtin' in the
breast; and with tansy or yarrow she
had a mysterious skill in raising
bread when hops were not.
Little Hezekiah was always a very
throstle for singing and whistling.
When he went with the others to
revivals and camp meetings, he
could not be made to listen or to
repeat anything much OF the SER
mon; but he could always reproduce
all the hymns, with their wild fervent
airs elaborated and beartifed BY
ornaments and variations of his own.
Some way or other-and I don't
remember just how-he came in
possession of a fiddle.
Some infrequent traveller or strag-
CLING peddler, hearing his sweet
voice and birdlike whistle, recogniz-
ing and pitying the Gagged and envir
oned genius within him, promised
him-and really did afterwards send
to him-a fiddle. 1t was a shabby
old thing; but its notes were fine
and sweet, its tone rich and human.
At first it was novelty and the
family didn't mind-even seemed to
like it; and would laugh at his life
imitation of crow and bobolink.
And indeed it was wonderful, as it
was lovely, to listen to the little old
| fiddle, under his childish hands,
breathing forth all the voices of the
wood; from the owlet's trembling
90 90, the wood pigeons hoarse
tenderness, the plaintive, querulous
cry OF the plover, or the whispering
of leaves and waters, to the chatter.
ing of squirrels, and the stirring call
of quail and bluebird He never
played any pieces but queer versions
of the wild camp meeting melodies
or, more often, bits of irregular,
dreamy, broken imaginings of his
own. In him the type found it:
highest expression; the genius, O
which each showed some stray CLINT
blossomed. But the dross, the
coarser clay in the others, kept then
from recognizing the flower. They
could not hear what he heard no
feel as he fe
dreadlully-i