The Bourbon news. [volume] (Paris, Ky.) 1895-19??, 1900-05-18

! where a stream of water shot from
the end of hollow log into trough:
! the water came from u spring on a hill
| side half mile distant. The inventor of
this crude aqueduct was Ronald Fan
shaw; he was only boy when he con-
! ceived the idea, but he gave every spare
/ moment TO its construction. He had
felled the trees, dug the long ditch
! through the meadows and fields, taken
the level and completed what was still
! considered a marvel of convenience by
! the neighbors. While it was building,
/ Jason Fanshaw had contributed many
peevish objections to the work, which
! he considered a waste of time, but when
the clear, cold water gushed out at his
door. he melted under a blaze of won
der, and now no stranger ever came to
his house who was not shown "the wa
/ terworks."
Huh" he would exclaim with pride,
nobody else has got a spring on his
land high enough fur such a thing. Col.
Hasbrooke would pay no end O. money
eff he could have it. He has to keep two
niggers busy film his tank an then the
waters stale an hot. You see, we sunk
our pipes so deep that the waters as
cold as ice"
A hundred yards from the house
was a dense wood which stretched on
to a small river a mile away, and fur
ther on TO a high mountain, and here
Dave found his brother lying on the
grass reading his Blackstone. In his
unlikeEess TO his family he was an
anomaly; he was over six feet in height,
well built, slender, dark of complex
ion, hair and eyes. There was in the
shapely prominence of his brow a sug-
gestion of strong mentality one might
look for in vain in any of the other
Fanshaws; his limbs had the slight,
strong look of blooded horse; a palm
ist would have said that his hands in
Dictated the possession of a refined, sen
sitive spirit.
'Oh, L had no idea you was heeri"
exclaimed Dave. Il jest thought I'd
! take walk to git away from all that
clatter up at the house. An 10 tell
you the truth, I've got a quart hid in
that stump thar; don't you want 10
wet yOre whistle, as the feller said?
have 10 keep it hid from the old man;
he's too ALFRED stingy to buy whisky.
but he loves it like hog does slop."
you know never drink, y replied the
other, firmly. His words formed a
striking contrast to the dialect of his
brother; there was a vague sadness of
tone in his voice, and his eyes dropped
as if they were weary of the print upon
which they had been resting.
We'll, 1 reckon you won't mind eff l
take a pull at it." said Dave I'm dry
as a powder-horn." He removed a fat
stone from the hollow of the stump
and took out his flask Here's lookin'
at YOU" and the neck of the bottle went
into his mouth.
4 suppose they made me the subject
of their talk, as usual" said Ronald,
when Dave had replaced the flask under
the stone and sat on the stump, his legs
crossed
Not any more'n common, Ron;
they've got 10 talk; talkin' comes as
natural TO women as cluckin' does to
hens; the only difference is hens cluck
when they are busy, an cackle when
they've laid; the time TO git away from
woman's tongue is when she's idle,
an that's all the time. But, honest,
1 don't see why they won't let you
alone. You want to read an study. be-
cause it suits you, an am with you,
tooth an toe nail. Now, had my head
set on ranch life out west, because 1
Utterly love boss flesh an cattle-raisin',
but they all come down on me like a
landslide an rs had to hoe corn an
cotton Ikea niger fur about forty cents
a day, when 1 might been maxim two
dollars an a-had my independence
Ronald Fanshaw smiled genialIy. but
be made no reply, and Dave sauntered
away to the river to see if his trout
lines had caught anything. When he
found himself alone our hero fell TO
dreaming Of his past life. Above the
tree-tops half a mile TO the east, or
a slight elevation, he could see the
high, steep roof and dOrmer windows
Of the chief mansion OF the locality.
"Carnleigh," the splendid home of the
county's greatest planter, Col. Henry
Hasbrooke.
The house, ia its silent grandeur. rep
resenting wealth and power, had been
a potent factor in the struggles of this
young man towards the acquisition of
things above and beyond him in the
dreamy blue realm of possibility. Its
massive Corinthian columns, its vast
white proportions and its aristocratic
inmates, whom he saw driving along
the roads, told him constantly what he
and his family were not. Up TO bis
twenty-fifth year his fancy had dared to
play only about the exterior of this old
family seat. but of late his imagination
call it ambition, If you will, had led
him beyond the mystic portals, and he
walked there with men and ladies: he
dined there; he discussed topics he had
read with the white-haired host; he
stood near the piano and heard Evelyn
Hasbrooke play and sing; he saw her
IL