The Portland daily press., 1896-04-04
THE end Or THE FEUD.
BY MARTHA MOULL0OH WILLIAMS,
Copyright 1895 by American Press Associa-
tinso I

lay dappled with golden shadow, Tt
was narrowish and winding, with deep
ruts in Its red clay surface. Either
hand of 1t were banks a good two feet
higher, notified with moses, brown
and gray and green, through which
there sprang up everywhere the tiny
yellow eyed pale blue flowers that Ten
nessee folk call sweethearts. They were
so thick indeed it seemed as though a
blue cloud swan barely above the
moses. Now and again the spread OF
them was broken with tuft OF fine
grasslike stems sown all their length
with shining yellow stars hardly big
ger than the sweethearts.
The wood was bare Of underground.
Neither were there small trees nor
heaped leaves at foot. That showed to
any wise sylvan lore that it was burned
over yearly by hunters who cared more
for clear chase than for timber or even
the betterment Of the land. The eye
went everywhere through mazes of
straight black trunks, which at last
melted into a solid wall of distance,
whereupon was lightly laid roof of
floating color The red of new oak leaf
age was in it, the tinted verdure Of
scarce unfolded maple, the yellow green
of hickory buds, backed all by the furry
silver of indeterminate faroff boughs.
On one hand dove futed desolately
to her mate. Upon the other rival
blue jays went through all manner of
foatharad oovooY,, hwy, ,,ucov tbo o--o -
their ladylove sitting high in wait for
the victor. Below them big black
logcock went swiftly away to the woods
deeper depths, his motion as wild and
wavering as that of haunted soul.
From crannied knothole high on the
southerIy side of big oak two squirrels
peeped saucily out, then snatched back
the head as though scenting danger.
A minute after you saw the reason
a reason upon four legs and with a
keen, cold nose. 1t was a foxhound,
blue mottled, 1.-the and lean-not the
leanness of hunger, but of perfect condi-
ton. He came on by little dashes, now
making few quick steps, now stopping
short, with the head over the shoulder,
evidently in wait for something or
somebody coming on behind At foot
of the squirrel tree he stopped, shifted
intelligently up its trunk, gave two dig
nified barks, howled once. then sat upon
his launches and looked steadfastly
into the boughs overhead what time he
was not glancing wistfully down the
road.
Presently his vigil was rewarded with
sight Of wagon coming toward him.
It was heavy, springless vehicle,
scantily piled with sacks of shelled
corn. A lean old black mule and a
round saucy dun colored one had much
ado to draw it through the stifening
mud, which was the sign remnant of
a rainy week just ended Some one
walked at the side of the team, singing
high and clear:
Ja-ay bird died Of the whoopin cough,
Sparrow died Of the collie.
Along came a frog with a fiddle ON his back
sayin, "Boys, les go to the frolic."
"Oh, do hush dat. TonyP' voice
said from the wagon-a throaty voice,
unctuous with good humor in spite of
its complaining speech. 1t came out of
huddle Of curves that close looking
resolved into very fat black woman
sitting fat upon the wagon floor. One
arm was tight about her knees, the
other flung over the edge Of the wagon
bed. Raising her voice to drown the
olanking of the equipage, she went on,
still in tone of deep discontent:
chit do pear lex ter me er body
whar gut de hymnbook an all dem
peeanner musics whut yo' mother had
an de new ohune book FUN de singin
school amt gut no 'casion ter go singin
dam dar ole corn songs same lex dee
wus er boyer niger boy at dat. Mus
be yo' name I took an tole Miss Fran
els how hit gwine be at de ve'y fust
20 after yo' pappy, case he don dead.
God knows, I spec, she done 'pent Of
it er many times. hear her say t orrer
day she 'feard yo' amt nebber gwine
git maybe nebber in the worl. C'eptin
yo' 'haves yo'se'f diff'unt I sorter
think so myself. Who yo' spect gwine
want nobody wild de boy walk an boy
ways yO Doou Sub OlS Las year CT 80!
81 am sure don't know, 4" Tony said,
with dancing eyes, finer red dawning
in her fresh creek. "And really, Mann
my, l don't think care-much, :" she
went On. speaking the last word under
her breath as she clambered back into
the wagon. "There is something in life
besides getting married, though you,
who have had three husbands, natural
ly think otherwise. Any way just now
I could not marry prince, not if he
wanted me ever SO bad. I have other
things to think about-mamma and the
children and my farming"
dam children, dee not noth1n ter
yo'-nothin but yo' half kin, - nanny
broke in, with a sniff ''Dat suppin
else whar / thry ter keep Miss Francis
FUN doin--may'in dat dar preacher
snan whar come ter gin her consolement
0ber Marse John Ant'ny, yo' pappy,
dyin 30 young. Pear lex ter me 'twus
az metty quar- consolement-ma'y'in
hsr hisse'f an den up an dyin ter leabs
v,0s Miss Fran xuid f0' mo- Gal chill.