The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1894-11-07
MatldV Perkins Opinions
By GERTRUDE F. LYNCH.

By GERTRUDE F. LYNCH
Icopynsht. 1884. american Press Associa-
.ssssa sszs ssass toni sssssss
$50 Erys dead at hstR
Yes died hstsnight.s.H didn'tseem
possible he could ever surprise 'em in
that way, they'd been lookin for it so
long, but he did. They were eatin their
supper in the ktchin. Left him jes' for
b mint, and when they hurried back
there he was1gone. "
Mrs. Croker Strengthened her sun
bonnet, drew her shawl about her shoul-
ders and rose to depart. At the door
she paused
What do yer suppose, Lie, that
daughter of his'n'n do?''
9tMatildy?''
ssYes
ssWaal, I've thought Of that, but don't
seem to come to eny mind consarnin
hen. She's SO all fired queer. Perhaps
it'll onsettle her y
ssDoyer. think she'll go to Bostin p
ssShoqian IS be bit surprised ef she
did, Shessneverbe,n the same senceher
wilt there that air time. -
i1sly though .
yes snart's q whip -
IS they surnedSso part each glanced
cxriously down the hill where from
the door mocksr Of small white house
long black streamer hung in detected
folds to the stoop.
Looks like new Grape.
eeWaal, it's about time. That old
piece's BEN in use ever sence the year
my John was born. Remember jes as
well Miss Edgcem' left or mournin fer
hernia md pat On that sprigged mus
lin. Smto' neat, but too young for her:
Waal, Mr. Edgcom', he jes took her
old veil, yanked out the creases and has
used it ever sence for every funeral he's
ever tended. y
In the white house lay the corpse OF
Ezra Perkins. As his neighbors. had
gossiped, he had been left for few min
utes by his daughter and nurse, and
when they returned he had passed be-
yond their care The. hard work, the
exposure, the fever, to all Of which the
New England farmer becomes an early
inheritm, had done their work. At SO
he had been wornout man; at so he
was dead.
In the spareroom the nurse, COM
Portable looking, middle aged woman,
was tying black ribbon around the
stem Of a goblet which held a few
sprays Of ragged robin and young mans
love- viewing her work with approval
and wondering how soon she could with
decency leave the house Of mourning to
enter her term Of service at the next
place, where she had seen six young
Browns into the world and was ready
and eager to help along the seventh.
Down stairs Matildy was putting
back the disordered chairs, straighten-
ing an unruly window shade and trying
vainly to end the struggles Of huge
bluebottle fly that buzzed 6stractingly
about the dusty panes. The coffin stood
in the middle of the room, and now and
then as she wandered about she would
glance at it apprehensiyely, as il she
feared its contents would still question
and disapprove in querulous accents.
Ezra Perkins had been stern parent
and hard taskmaster. Even death could
not blot that from her mind. Fer thin
frame, whose Close 6ttinG garment OF
black emphasized the stcop engendered
by years of daily labor, the knctted hand
and careworn face, were each mute wit
nesses of the bitter experience life had
been to her. She had been slave many
years, but she was free at last-free
from the gibes and jeers, the constant
supervision, the necessity for account
ing for trifes, the ever overhanging
dread Of daily tribunal for sins Of
omission and commission. There had
been no love between father and daugh-
ter, but the Puritan rigidity Of principle
which showed each the straight path Of
duty to the other and their little world
gave their stern lives the empty appear
ance Of family affection
A little time was her own, in which
she could enjoy the hard earned reward
Wv
which overworked body and tired brain
had ere this denied her. Her dreams
were not poetical. The drudgery or d
farmhouse does not produce poets, but
in the arid soil Of her prcsaic mind had
been planted the seeds Of an ambition
(which seemed to approach fruition-
Az if it were yesterday, she recalled
the one experience in her life which
furnished her with these materials OF
future hope and present uneasiness-an
experience which caused her even now
to be spoken of admiringly by her
heighbors as .'Eny's daughter, the one
who went to Boston. For then, in
their monotonous existence, time was
lmitless, and this event, which happen
ed when she was but 12-she was now
in. her thirty-ffth year-was still i'm
portant enough to be chronicled in daily
conversation