The people's journal. (Pickens, S.C.) 1891-1903, 1901-08-29
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like Il boy. He says to me: Martha,
some time when you've got natiron
bn J. wish you'd press out my gray
pants an leave 'em creased before an
behind. Folks say nowadays It keeps
'em from wcarin out so quick l nj.
most gave him piece OF my mind
right then an there. l says: Joel Bird.
sell! An ut your time in life too He
didn't say another word, but went off
up stairs that ashamed-an that very
night was the first time In the 20 years
he staid out till after midnightw
Deacon Birdscll claspcd his long fin
gers around his bony knee and bowed
his head.
"If I do say it, / watched him from
the window when he went out" Mrs.
Birdsell earnestly continued, "an l
seen him tramp straight Off toward the
tavern. 'Twusn't the last time I've
seen him either"
The deacon suddenly started up and
thumped his fist hard upon the table.
'cThcm Lowdcns will get to prison
yetw he burst out with Indignation.
"'1'would be Il true religious act to set
their cusscd dram shop OH fire! I'd do
| 1t, too, if"-
Mrs. Birdscll reached across the ta
| BILE to place Il restraining hand upon
her husbands arm, but the tips Of her
fingers barely touched his shirt sleeve.
| "William" she said in Il more COM
posed tone, "wc mustn't get excited.
| What we must do Is to tend to Jocrs
case. The Lord that judges between
l ,,i, rl,i
tend to the Lowdcns himself"
Before such an undcniable exposition
Of truth the farmers anger slowly sub
sided.
"You know the time Joel washed the
| buggy an went to town. Mrs. Birdsell
| went on. "IIc didn't get back that
| night till Il quarter past II, an he took
| his boots off before he come into the
house. l know all about it because he
clean forgot 'cm an left 'cm OH the
| porch"
| "You wouldn't call them things boots,
| would you?' The deacon threw his
| whole available fund OF sarcasm into
the words.
| "Gaitcrs, mcnn," corrected Mrs.
Birdsell quickly. "An that's another
thing. Just to think Of n man takin to
CATERS after boots has been good
enough for him for 90 years! It's a
sure sign William.'
| "YeS, mother, that's the long an the
short OF it. Caters may be II small
thing in themselves, but in Joers case
! they help powerful to show what fast
| livin an strong drink will do once Il
| man gets goin In the wrong way"
The deacon started suddenly ut the
| meaning OF his own words. 4 spade
had finally been called spade. Mrs.
Birdscll straightway began to sob nu-
dibly, while her husband searched alb
stractcdly for his handkerchief, which
he finally produced from the armhole
Of his vest.
Joel Birdscll filled the place Of son
not only in the hearts but in the home
OF the deacon and his wife. Back IN
the flfties, when heavy timber still coy
cred what is now the rich, rolling farm
land Of lower Michigan, William Bird
sell had gone forth from the circum-
scribcd acres Of tho homestead in Yer
mont to win place for himself in the
world, with only a young wife and his
own grit to aid him. Then Michigan
was not the farmers El Dorado it aft
erWard came to be- But the house in
which he still lived was built, and then
Joel, the next younger by three years,
was sent for to share the increasing
fortunes, incidentally to lend n helping
hand in the running Of the farm.
And Joel, he was Il shining example
Of New England stagnation Never in
clined to marry, always content with a
Kind or helpless dependence upon his
brother and sister, whose home had not
been frightened by the advent Of chill
drcn, he grew more and more to he the
object OF parental solcitude to the
farmer and his wife as the years
passed by. He was satisfied with his
unique position, ana gradually the hori-
Zon OF his life came to be bounded by
the views and wishes OF his foster par.
ents.
Mrs. BirdSell was the first to break
the oppressive silence. "Willfam." she
said, there's no use putin it off any
longer. Suppose we call Joel down now
this very night-an point out to him
lilie-tell him--that is to say. ask
iiilhl olc ilpSlluttu. L ne t;lSk
ed greater when framed in words.
Sh" The exclamation escaped the
pair ut the same instant.
In the chamber above the song began
again This time the words were loud
and distinct, although the tune was
still doubtful. Silently the coup!e fol-
lowed The lines:
drcamt that dwet in marble nails
Not word was uttered until the
verse ended. Mrs. BirdscIl was busy
making mrnta! analysis Of the mean.
Ing OF the words, Their import seemed
beyond doubt.
IT'S real gaInblin house tune" she
pronounced, with assurance born Of
conviction, although there was a trem-
Dilng In her voice. "Iyc heard all
about the Internal places; all marble an
glass an electric lights an polished
woodwork"
Inc SqUcaking. heavy footsteps grew
ioudcr. The cuprlt was certainly COM
a