The Colfax chronicle. [volume] (Colfax, Grant Parish, La.) 1877-1981, 1895-08-24

you think you'd ought to do as you'd
be done by, deacon?'
'Well, amt a-goin' to do any argu.
il'," was the dignified answer. III
go look after the cattle, an then Wen
go to bed"
The sun rose bright and early the
next morning, and danced and
twinkled and fairly shook his sides
with laughter and goodwill as he
shone with all his might right down
on the Simpson homestead. But after
examining things carefully. and maxi
ing up his mind that oil was not right,
he beckoned to little cloud, and
buried his head from sight.
The old horse and double wagon
stood outside the door, The back seat
had been taken out to accommodate
the small, hair-covered trunk, which
Mrs. Simpson had insisted should be
bound tightly down with stout rope,
as she had once heard of trunk being
left in the middle of the road, while
the driver logged contentedly on. Her
husband had thought this precaution
unnecessary, but after long discussion,
finally yielded. He now sat on the
seat, very stiff and straight. holding
the reins while waiting for his wife to
appear. The deacon had always had Q
strong desire to be dressy, but on ac-
count of his prominent position in the
church he had not thought best to in.
dulge this weakness, or been en-.
couraged in it by his wife. But now
that he was going to the city, that
abomination of wickedness, he felt
no one would be injured by his ex-
ample, and SO he had given full play to
his taste. Some few would have ques-
toned it; but to the deacon's mind his
outfit was absolutely perfect. His
long, lank form was encased in his
black broadcloth coat, thrown jaunti-
ly open to display the white vest. q
flowing plaid necktie and hair watch
chain. But the browning glory was
his hat, the purchase of which had
cost him much consideration, but with
the most satisfactory result. 1t was Of
white straw, trimmed with blue rib
bon, and would have had quite an air
if it had not been fully two sizes too
large, and rested on his ears. When Q
boy, his mother, in making or buying
clothing for him, had always kept a
little ahead of his then present size, in
anticipation of his growing; and this
idea had become so fixed in his own
mind that now, at sixty-five years of
age. he never thought of buying any
ing anything to exactly fit him, al
though his object in so doing was
somewhat indefinite.
Amt you never comm, Maria?" he
called out; 1.-The train won't wait for us
forever"
Just then Mrs. Simpson appeared at
the door with large bag in one hand
and the yellow cat in the other. She
was hot and out of breath from her ex-
ertions, and a hurried look at her hus-
band completed her discontinue.
Pm mortified to death at the way
Amos looks" she murmured to herself,
as she turned to lock the door; but
amt goin' to say one word to rile him,
but just keep prayin' that somethin'
will turn up to keep u.s."
The deacon appeared buried in
thought. He felt that his wife would
not approve of his hat, and so had kept
1t out of sight until now. After the
dreaded moment had passed he looked
over his collar and Surveyed her.
what you goin' to do with the yaller
cat?" he inquired.
"We'vc got to leave her at Polly's on
the way down. wouldn't trust Joe
to feed her. There; you hold her while
get in"
The wagon creaked and groaned as
Mrs. Simpson laboriously climbed in.
and then visibly sank on her side when
she was finally seated.
"Well, you ready? Get up, there!'
and Deacon Simpson and his wife had
really started for the CITY.
~They logged along for nearly a
quarter of mile in silence. When
they came to the turn in the road which
would hide the house from view he
stopped a moment and, turning around,
surveyed 1t.
You'd better look at it, Maria, eff
you want to see it for the last time.
1t looks kind o. lonesome" and he
choled little as he fumbled nervously
at the reins.
Il think we'd better be goin' along"
was the cool answer, but inwardly his
wife's heart was wrung with pity for
him. But l sha'n't say one word;
he's got to change his own mind" she
thought.
do you s'pose the yaller cat II stay
at Daughter Polly's?' was his nexs re-
mark.
mo; guess she'll run right back;
they generally do"
"Well-do you s'pose she'll starve?"
and his voice quivered perceptibly as
he asked the question, for the "yaller
cat" was his special pet.
mo; don't think she'll starve; but /
kind O. guess she'll look peaked when
we get back; an then she'll sort o.
mn