The Ohio Democrat. (Logan, O. [Ohio]) 1886-1906, 1897-03-23
FORREST ROSE,
TALE OF THE FRoNr.E .EAR-RY CARP.

acn. lie had his usual supply OF fiSl
!stories on tap however, and expect
! ed to regale Rose with recitals of hi
encounters with wild and savag,
beasts and the customary hairbreadtl
escapes, which nobody but Ros,
would believe. When he came t.
the brow of the hill which overlook.
ed the knoll on which his fathers
villa stood, as also the valley of the
Ohio where the spires of Gallipolis
Marietta and Huntington nigh
have been seen If they had beer
there, which of course they were no
and the audience had a duplex, con-
vex, hundred power magnifying tel.
escope with elbows in it that would
enable the observer to look around
bends in the river. Reaching this
point our hero sat down, on fallen
tree to rest, pastime of which he
was especially fond. The sun was
still an hour, or an hour and half
or two hours or two hours and a half
or possibly, to be exact, only fifteen
minutes above the horizon; and al
though its rays could not penetrate
to where Albert sat, owing to the
thick foliage of the trees, and his
natural inclination to hunt the shade
it did not prevent him from enjoying
the beauties of the light as it softly
fell upon the landscape toward which
his gaze was now directed. Before
him, down the valley, a distance of
some two hundred miles, or perhaps
1t was yards, the hill on which he
paused, was cleared of trees and
brush, and his father and Bill were
now engaged with two heavy yoke
of cattle in turning it up for the fall
sowing. Albert always enjoyed such
work when some one else did it ard
his heart was filled with admiration
as he sat in the cool shadows of the
overhanging foliage, at the facility
with which the old man and Bill
turned up the rich virgin soil, in
which to raise potatoes, indian corn,
cabbage, celery and pie plant for the
coming winters food, which he was
always on hand to enjoy and at
which he could always do full
hands duty.
At the bottom of the hill, rising up
out of the valley like an artificial
mound, was the little knoll on which
stood the home of this pioneer fam
lily. The land was cleared all around
it, so that the creek could be seen
gliding by on the other side, and
burying itself in the thicket about
hundred yards further down. All
this was pleasant and familiar pic
ture to Albert, who had watched the
progress of clearing, chopping, hew.
ing, ploughlng and planting, from
this safe distance, day after day, as
Bill and the old man toiled and sweat
until the perspiration ran down in
rivulets and swelled the creek to
overhowing, and flooded the bottom
land for miles. Nor was this effect
less pleasant, from beholding the
light blue smoke from the cooking
supper, which slowly curling upward
from the rude chimney spread itself
out in the rays of the setting sun,
which poured a golden flood Of light
into the opening and made the little
creek glisten. like belt of free and
unlimited silver, that would have
filled the breasts of the followers Of
Bryan and Sewall or Bryan and
Watson with longing ecstacy. The
hill on the opposite side of the valley
had been partially cleared, and n
large corn and potato patch was in
sight, with the tops just peeping
above the rich soil, and giving it an
emerald cast that was restful and re-
freshing to our constantly tired hero,
as he sat upon the eminence where
we recently located him. Beyond
and around, on every side, like
iAuiiicN W YIN W u CIlIOnlOg tuS QuIh
green forest, With its noble trees Of
oak, beech and maple, elm and syca-
more, with fair to midalin' sPrinkl-
ing of chestnut, which we have no
doubt our readers will think more
appropriate at this time, shut in the
scene, and gave to it that sylvan
beauty which the meditative poet 80
loves to contemplate and our de-
Of which, has doubtless pro-
voked and developed tired feeling
In which the author fully shares.
Albert was poet I'm feeling. He
had read "Carp's" Ode to Frailty
and Wynkoop's obituary confession,
and other sad and touching spasms
of the time and his heart had been
filled and his soul had been moved
with the divine ailiatus, assisted by
Pierce's Purgative Pellets, and as he
sat on the fallen log, where we left
him awhile ago, he gradually be-
came lost in n dreamy reverle, of
which little Forest Rose formed no
unimportant part. While thus lost
in contemplation, he felt hand
lightly touch his shoulder. If he had
been properly "up" on indian tactics
he would have known that no well
regulated savage would be going