Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1895-04-12

Amt that about yore recollection
O how he expressed it?" said Nc.
Monigle, pausing now in his recital.
Vas" said old man Taylor, ''he said
it three times, riccollect that ez long
ez l livc-an' the third time he said
the yaller hair he let his arms fall
down at his side, an he sort o. stag
gered bacl1'ards, an turned round to
johnnie Burl1 an SEE he: Help me
out, please, sir, feels dizzy Do you
riccollect how he said that, Dan1?
But you're tellin' the story. Don't
femme interrupt you"
NO interruption, Pete. You 20 on
an tell it the way you riccollect it. ]
see my pipe has done gone out while
I've been talllin'. Tell the truth. I'm
most sorry that you all started me on
this story tonight. 1t gives me Il spell
o the blues-tall1in' it over.
Pass me them tongs back here, doc
tor, an femme git another coal for nv
pipe. An while I've got EN- I'll shake
up this fire a little. This stoves ez
dull-eyed and pouty ez any other woman
eff she's neglected.
Hungry, too, amt you, old lady?
Don't like wet wood, neither. Sets he,
teeth on edge. Jest listen at his quart
while lay it in her mouth.
go on, now. Pete, an tell the par.
son the rest o the story. 'Tain't no
more'n right tibet a shepherd should
know all the ms and outs O his flock
eff he's goin' to take care O. Their
needs.'
you better finish it, Danl." said
Taylor. you've brought it all bach
heap better'n | could a-done it,"
Tell the truth, boys, I've got it down
to where l hate to go on" replied Nc
Monigle, with feeling. 1--WE talked
about the child now till I can seem to
see her little, slim figure comm down
the plank walk the way I've seen her
hundred times, when all the fellers set
tin out in front O. the sto'es would sir
in an git their coats on, an come bach
I've done it myself an me a grand.
father.
$50 on, Pete, an finish it up. I've
got the taste O tobacco smoke now, an
my pipe is like the stove. Eff neglect
her she pouts.
II left off where OF Proph finished
prophesyin' at the old year party at my
house three year ago. forgot to tel
you, parson, tibet Mrs. Meredith, she
never come to the party-an' Meredith
hisself he only come and stayed few
minutes, an went home count O. the
OF lady bein' by herself-so they wasn't
neither one there when the OF niger
spoke. An eff they'd ever been told
what he said don't know-though we
have got half dozen smarties in town,
thct would "a busted long ago eff they
hadn't "a told it l don't doubt.
go on, now, Pete, an finish. After
Proph' had got done talkin' of co'se
hand shakin' commenced, an every
body was supposed to shake hands
with everybody else. reckon, parson.
there knows about that-but you might
tell it anyhow"
'Of co'se, parson he knows about
the handshakin'," said Taylor, taking
up the story, because you was here
last year, parson. You know that it's
the custom in Simpkinsville, at the old
year party, for everybody to shake
hands at twelve o'clock at the comm in
of the new year. It's been our custom
time out o mind. Folks thetU have
some fallin' out an maybe not be
speallin' IL come forward an shake
hands an make up-start the new
year with a clean slate.
"Why. CT 'twasn't for that, l donno
what we'd do. Some of our folks is so
techy an high strung-an' so many O
'em kin, which makes it that much
worse-thet eff 'twasn't for the New
Year handshaking, why in few
years we'd be ez bad ez deaf and
dumb asylum.
''But to tell the story. I declare,
DanI, / amt no hand to tell thing so
cz to bring it befo' yo' eyes like you
can. I'm feerd you'll have to carry it
on"
And so old man McMonigle, after
affcctionatcly drawing few puffs from
his pipe, laid it on the fender before
him, and took up the tale.
"Well," he began as usual, II reckon
thot rightly speahin' this is about the
end of the first chapter.
1.-THE handshakin' passed off friend
ly enough, everybody jinin' in, though
there was women tibet lowed tibet they
had the cold shivers when they shuck
the city feller's hand, half expectin' tc
tackle birdclaw. AMI know thet wife
an me-although understand, parson
we none o. us suspicioned no harm-we
was glad when the party broke up, an
everybody was gone-the niggers
words seemed to ring in our ears so.
"Well, sir, the second chapter o the
story l reckon it could be told in half a
dozen words, though l s'pose it holds
misery enough to make a book.
Il never would read book tibet
didn't end right; in fact, don't think
the law ought to allow sech to be
printed. We get enough wrong
endin's in life, an the only good book
maxim is, in my opinion, is to ketch
up all sech stories an work 'em over
"Ef 1 could set down an tell May
Day Meredith's story to some book
writer thet'd take it up where leave
off, an bring her back to US, she could