Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1895-08-15

the little town in backwoods section
of Pennsylvania, gazing vacantly down
the road.
jest thinkin,' replied the Miller
closing his knife and placing it in his
pocket Then he leaned back against
the window and repeated: Huh.
Thinkin'w
''Thet's unusual" grumbled the
Loafer.
The storekeeper was sitting on a
crate of eggs, which was awaiting the
arrival of the stage for shipment. He
leaned toward the occupant of the
bench and asked: Now, what IS anus
in your ..
Il was lest thinkin' about how Bill
Pumpledink was reformed replied the
other. grinning. Him as seen the
time he'd a-give his farm fer drink OF
hard cider. Amt you never heard
about it?"
II know he used to do power OF
drinkin'," said the Loafer, IAN thet
now he's allus goin' ter church an
bush meetin', but l never heard how ct
come"
Don't you ever tell told you, fer l
wouldn't hev it git out fer farm" be-
gan the Miller. ''Pumpledink, he's a
friend of mine, an it was him as told
me. with the assistance of his boy
Barna bas. Bills mind is jest leetle
hazy on the subject, but the p'ints he's
mixed on Barnabas an good common
sense reasonin' hes supplied. 1t hap
pened Jest this time last year an"
hA
School-Teacher, who was on his way to
the parsonage, but had stopped at the
store for little gossip.
Eyes, in June; the hides of June, "
continued the Miller. Bill Pumple-
dink has place over in the gut. You
uns knows how to git there. You folly
the road thet crosses the mountains
through Smiths gap tell you come to
Larker's sawmill; there you switch off
to the right, keeping along the gut
between the ridge and the mountain
fer half mile, and you come to his
place. A lonely spot, too; woods all
round exceptin' few tiel's as hes more
stones an soil on 'em.
"I know his place WELL" interposed
the Loafer 81 used to pass it on the
way fishin'. A lawg house an slab
barn in the middle of a few acres Of
clearin'. Lonely? Sights!'
''Pumpledink used to belong to our
lodge of the knights of the Maltese
Star, an was reg'lar at the meetln's
up in West Eden. Sam Miller had
license in them days, an as soon as the
meetin' was over Bill Pumpledink
made right fer the hotel, an how he
ever got home at all afterward l could
never see. They was three bridges fer
him ter git acrosst, but only once, as !
knows on, was he picked out of
creek That was next day after our
county convention, when his son
Barnabas foun' him sleepin' in the
wotter, Jest on the edge of thet deep
sucker hole, where the road crosses
Windy creek.
THE first meetin' in June was the
last one PumpledinlS ever tended. He
went to the hotel thet night as usual,
and at twelve o'clock he began to pick
his way home. How he ever got over
them three miles don't know, nor he
doesn't himself He reached the clear
in all right and then set down on
stump at the side of the road. 1t was
a clear night. They was half moon
overhead, shinin' down quiet-llke
through the trees; a little breeze was
rattlin' the leaves. He felt kind of
lonely an creepy like an got up to
90 aimin' toward the house out in the
clearin'. He sails he must hev ben
wallxin' about five minutes, but when
he set down to rest, there he was on
the same stump, and he was plumb
disgusted. He set minute, an then
tried it again, but it wasn't no use, fer
he sails no matter how fer he walked
it seemed like thet stump kept right
along side fer him to set on.
THAT riled him like, an he picked
up a stone an tossed it acrosst the road
Jest to ease off his feelins. He didn't