San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1895-05-19

neighbors in the evenin'. By an by
he seemed to take n constable shine
fer Peters dotter Susan. First no one
ever thot nothin' of It, for it hardly
seemed likely tibet as pretty girl as
she would keer much about sech a
dried-up leetle specimen as Hiram Gum.
Then, besides, fer long time she'd
BEN lSeepin' comp'ny with young John
McCullagh, whose father owned bout
the best piece of farmin' Lam up the
valley. 1t may ben tibet old McCul-
lagh an Billings made it up between
them tibet John was to marry Susan. /
allus took it tibet way. But she
couldn't "a fell in with their ways. He
was boastful, fine-lookin' big Teller,
with powerful temper an likin' fer
his own way. So when Hiram Gum
began loafin' over at Billings no one
ever dreamt anything would come of it.
But after Hiram he'd ben Twin up
the valley two! years, he sudden
stopped visitin' Billings. He was druv
off the place, heard, an Susan for a
week was KEEP locked up in her room.
An sech a change as come over that
man! never seen the like. 1t was in
the airly spring when it happened, an
he'd been doin' pretty well all winter
fiddlin' at parties. But from one of the
pleasantest of men he became one of
the blacklist. He had allus met man
with hearty 'howde' before, but after
that he never spoke no more when he
passed. From comm to the store every
day regular, he got to comm only when
he needed things, an the rest of the
time he KEEP mopin' up in his place on
the ridge. An Susan, too, was
changed. She lost color, an big dark
rings come around her eyes. Many a
time seen her leanin' over the gate,
lookin' way up the ridge to where
Hiram Gums place lay. An then her
father would come out an drive her
inter Their house with angry words
She wouldn't scerce speak to John Nc
Cullagh in them days.
'"The weeks went by, an she picked
up little an her father lowed her
more freedom. Then come Sam Ian
der's big party. 1t was the last dance
of the season, for the hot weather was
comm on when there wasn't time ter
be swingin' corners, let alone the over
heatin' tibet would come by it. 1t was
jest bout the biggest dance of the
year, an everybody in the valley was
there. They didn't hev no fancy Or
gans in them days. The plain old
fiddle was enough, an it would be suf-
fcient in these times if all fiddlers was
like Hiram Gum. Everybody danced
when Hiram played. He'd no sooner
take his place in the corner an draw
the bow then every inch in the room
would be covered with SETS"
The old man beat his stick on the
porch and waved his body to and fro
at the remembrance of the time SO long
before
''Bow yer corners! An we was off.
Ny, but tibet was f1ddlin'. 1t jest went
through man like one of them cleo
trio shoclkin' machines Yer feet was
started an away yer went; old Hiram
settin' there with his withered arm
crooked up to hold the fiddle, the long
crooked fingers techin' the strings, the
bow goin' so fast yer could hardly see
it, his big eyes lookin' down inter the
insterment, his long hair an beard
wavin' as he swung to an fro. Now
yer own! Oh, the m was dancin' days
when Hi Gum played. Yer never tired
trippin' the floor.
II done one set with Susan Billings,
an noticed she could scerce keep her
eyes away from Hiram. She only
danced a set with John McCullagh, an
lay kinder limp like when she swung
corners with him, an never sayd moth
IN. When they finished he left, an 1
seen him go out the door with black
look on his face.
"Young an old danced tibet night
They was three sets in the settin'-room
an two in the kitchen. 1t was mighty
little restin' we done, save layin' off at
ten o'clock fer sweet cake an cider.
But the queer thing was tibet Hiram
never passed the hat once. It's seldom
a man goes to party without the hat
comm his way three or four times.
An fore tibet night they never was
more inweterate hatpasser AN Hi Gum,
fer by his playin' he made his livin',
an never a note 'ud he make tell he'd
fifty cents in his old white beaver.
Then he'd play tibet out, an roun' he
came ag'in. But tibet night he jest set
glum an never once did he stop his
fiddlin'. There was never a fiddler like
Hiram Gum.
1--WE lived over the river then, an
they wasn't no bridge in them days.
We used to cross in a couple of old
boats that was KEEP tied along the
bank jest below the canal lock. Most
all he'd gone when left Landers airly
in the mornin'. went down across
the fiat and through the woods tell 1
come out at the canal, where crossed
on the lock to the towpath. 1t was
clear night an the moon shone down
bright through the trees. l walked up
along the towpath whistlin' fer COM
pany. The canal was on one side and
down through the open places on the
other could see the river gleamin'
along. come to the bend jest
couple of hundred yards above where
the boats lay, an was jest stepping out
into the clearin' there when sudden 1
heard a loud voice. stopped. Then