The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1900-08-17
RE REIGN Or REASON.
By VIOLA RosBBoRo'.


Pohtlcs is still eminently respecta-
pie IN Tennessee, and my brother,
Whom l was visiting, was candidate
Tor a congressional nomination. He
was encouraging me to make a visit to
some kinsfolk of ours. He put forth
motives of policy but the truth was he
was much attached to Cousin Betsey
Blunt, whom he looked upon with pride
as particularly. able woman, and he
longed to have me pay her the compli-
ment of visit. Mrs. Blunt had been
left a widow at the close of the war,
with two little children and no other
dependence than a rough farm in a
rougher country some % miles back"
from Strathboro
She had taken the situation CALAMITY,
and now her children were both grown
and her hard days past. One. the
daughter. was married and had gone to
Texas, but the other, the younger, Jim
my, was still with her
had been at her house years before
when | was little girl and still re-
membered it as a sort of place of en-
chantment, so deeply and delightfully."-
had its remoteness and prilntiveness
impressed me. l was pleased enough
at the prospect of going there again.
One of those queer little railroads that
seem to wander so amiably and aim
lessly about the rural districts of the
south passed within eight miles of the
place.
1t was arranged that at this point
Jimmy should meet me. When | got
off the train, l found myself on moss
grown platform i'll the midst OF Il pref
ty woodland. While the conductor was
courteously keeping his train waiting
to inquire my situation a tall Young
man in "butternut' Jean suit rode
out of the woods leading sadded
horse behind him. He lifted his shape
less dun colored soft hat to me. and
the conductor, expressing a confidence
that | was now "all right" returned to
the care of his dozen other passengers
1t was not hard when | gave my mind
to it to recognize III the young man the
Jimmy of old. His pretty brown eyes
had not changed-indeed you could see
at first glance that they looked Just
as they did when he was baby-and
his brown curls had familiar set on
his head. They We're oddly long to
modern eyes-1 insist that modernness
is matter of place us well as of time
but they were very becoming to his
regular, nice, simple face. 1t was not Il
strong face. When | saw Cousin Bet
sey, seemed to find it's weakness ex-
NIL nnt 1,,f 10 l,,,
redity.
The extra horse carried a sidesaddle
and was intended for me- Jimmy had
even brought a brown cotton riding
skirt with him. | united the various
secret strings about my dress skirt, put
on the cotton outfit and mounted. 1t
was in the autumn, and the ride
through the mellow radiance of the
woods and fields was dreamy de-
light. Jimmy had the true backwoods
capacity for silence. 1t is akin to an
Indians and n thing to be much appre-
ciated after the laborious twaddle of
villagers in whom the sense of social
responsibilities is painfully develop
ing. After the inevitable exchange of
inquiries as to the health of all our
tribe conversation was dismissed as an
idle and exhaustive exercise.
/ was too much absorbed in other en-
joyment to choose that time for study
ing my old playmate, and had almost
forgotten that his powers of commune
cation We're greater than his horses.
when, as we came to the top of the
\ hill, he pointed to a log house beyond
and below, starting, it seemed, out of
the woods and into big, irregular, I'M
kempt field, and said:
"There's mighty nice girl lives in
that place."
could do nothing less than show an
interest in person so directly and i'm
pressively brought to my attention.
Jimmy pursued the theme with simple
pleasure.
Her family amt much,' he said.
"Her fathers only a renter, and his
father was a squatter. but that girl is
an uncommon girl. She is a we'll be-
haved girl and she's that healthy and
strong there's nothin she amt equal to.
She's got masterful head too. Her
names Ellen Tod"
Is Sic pIettS!
Eyes, ma'am, suppose she is. jim
my responded dispassionately. She's
so counted, but her bookseller looks"
he repeated, seeking a fitting conclu-
sion, Its not them I'm thinkin about"
My less sternly disciplined mind was
already wandering from Ellen Tod to
the loveliness around me-the blending
colors, soft floating leaves and blue
vistas-and l let the talk drop. There
would be plenty of time for canvassing
the probabilities of a mesalliance with
the house of Tod.
A mile or two more brought us to
the house in which Jimmy was BORN
the ambitious house Henry Blunt had
spent his substance building for his
bride while s;lnguine in his belief in
the future of the country and in his
own. The piteous vanity of human
foresight was emphasized when he
was killed in battle few years after
ward, and the modest tide of sectional
.,,,I Of lDt for ir,,f,S