The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1895-12-04

grain out 10 some one to thrash for the
tenth bushel. The thrashing was done
with an old-fashioned fail, which all
the older people are acquainted with;
of course Harmon did not bring the
oats to Mr.. Albright according con-
tract, and he inquired of Harmon why
he did not bring it. Harmon, ofcourse,
made oft-repeated promises to bring
the oats tomorrow, and next week,
but IL never came. Naturally, the
small boy would hear Mr.. Albright in
quiring about the oats, and, also, the
other inquiry: "Any goose to-day?"
and it was not very long until they put
this and that together by misunder-
standing the word, and began to say to
Harmon "Any oats to-day, John ?"
Harmon took it somewhat good natur-
edly for while, and, although his
mind was not very bright, he soon
came TO the conclusion that they were
"guying" him, and he began to get
mad. He had an ungovcrnable temper,
and, when the boys would say: "Any
oats to-day, John?" nothing but their
fieetness offoot saved them from injury.
Sometimes he would be riding i'm a
wagon or on horse, and the boys, first
looking for good safe place TO run to,
would say: ''Oats John ?" they hav-
ing abbreviated it still more for their
convenience; then they would scatter
in grand shape and well they might,
for Harmon, notwithstanding his age
and lame leg, would jump from the
wagon, or off the horse, and be after
them in jiffy. This thing went on
for years, Mr.. Albright i'm the mean
time having forgiven Harmon the
debt, and the larger boys having ceas-
ed to annoy him by hallooing "Oats"
at him. But the small boy is ubiquit-
Gus and irrepressible and he never lets
up on anything in the line of fun. One
dark night the writer crossed the street
on TO the pavement in front of Deans
hotel, when he noticed some boys fool
ing around. One of them opened the
bar-room door and called out "Oats,
John? ," when all of them ran; almost
instantly the door opened and Harmon
appeared with an immense poker in
his hand, saying as he always did,
when the boys hallooed "Oats :"
''G-d DIN you, I'll give you oats" !"
threw threw the poker with tremend-
Gus force. BY that time the boys were
around the corner, and the writer in
stinctively lodged around the corner
too, when the poker whizzed past his
hea 50 close that the conclusion could
be plainly felt. There is not the slight
est doubt but that the writer would
have been killed, had the poker struck
him. Harmon caught one of the boys,
and would have handled him roughly,
had not the writer interfered. After
this the Justice of the Peace took the
matter in hand, and Harmon had COM
parative peace while he lived. Poor
old fellow like thousands before and
since, he wrecked his life by the demon
intemperance, and was found dead
under the shed of barn, one bright
Sunday morning, and his body fills Il
pauper's grave.
Another old citizen, cotemporary
of Harmon, named Oliver FrantZ,
whose mother was Drake, daughter Of
one of the first settlers in Turkeyfoot,
and direct lineal descendant of the
English admiral of that name, used to
live here. He wasted what might have
been a useful life, in the same way.
He was great wood-chopper, and it
was said that he could cut eleven or
twelve cords in day. He was dis
tantly related to the writer's grand
mother, and he always called her by
her baptismal name, as he did the
writer's mother He made Us regular
visits, and his first inquiry would be ::
"Polly,-hic-whe Sally?'' or,
"Sally, re's-hic-where's Polly?n
according to which one he met first,
for he was always drunk. He would
cry like a child over his shortcomings
and promise the writer's mother hun
dreds of times TO reform, but reforma-
ton never came. His heart was big
ger than his body. his kindness was
great, and he loved all mankind better
than he did himself.
Addison, Pa. NJ.