The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1901-08-13

MANY quaint and original character
came and went, and spent his pleasant
and pleasing hour of an evening or a
stormy day at the Old Buckhorn Tavern,
that rare backRSoods hosiery of the an
Gent tfme-last of the famous wayside
inns that had brought cheer and com
fort to the traveller or sejourner in the
days when the rumblings stage coach
creal1ed and jolted over the weary miles
of hilly turnpike.
when at morn,
AS winding round by yon old mill,
The driver blew his mellow horn,
And echo answered from the HILL
before the railroads came and forced the
coach aside to rust and ruin, and the
abandoned turnpike grew choked with
brush, and We'll nigh impossible from
long neglect. But among all the odd
characters that enlivened the whilom
hour at the Buckhorn none was to be
compared with Old Ri.
Rare Old 'Bi He had been Old Ri so
long that it was only tradition that his
name was Abiram Steele, and that he
had come from somewhere down coun-
try in the stage coach days, planted
himself in the Buckhorn district, where
he hunted and fished, worked in the lum-
Der woods when so disposed, and roll
licked and registered at the Buckhorn
wit that brought him a local fame and
popularity for which better accomplish
ments have appealed in vain.
But he never would have come to be
the Old 'Bi that he was if Old Maid
Peggy Giles. lame, sharp-featured, dis
treSSlngly thin-'sOmethin like an ash
saplin' as to figger," 'Bi was cnce heard
to remark in referring to Peggy-and
overshrewish withal, but with a little
nd Of haJs
Inherited income Of $500 a year, had not
fixed her heart on lively Abiram Steele
at the height Of his popularity In the
Buckhorn district. ADRIAN did not re-
sent it. Not he. He married Peggy: at
once sat down with good fortune, turned
his face coldly away from even casual
work from that day forward, and roam
ed with his gun and his rod, content
with such bounty as Peggy bestowed up
on him, minding her restless tongue no
more than he minded the scolding Of the
red squirrels when he was aaeld Thus
In time he grew to be Old 'Bi-shiftless,
unreliable, save as to his knowledge o1
the woods and streams and the things
that lived and moved therein: his chief
ambition a dram at the tavern, and his
dearest plan in life one that insured him
his ambition at no cost TO himself eth
er in money down or services rendered;
ed that he had no credit, but physically
deploring its inconvenience; with an I'M
failing humor, a ready wit, a poetic fan
cy, quaint philosophy, and an imagi-
nation so elastic and a gift for eXercis-
ing it so unbounded that even in its art
it was sometimes appalling; never a
frown on his face; quip and a quirl
and laugh ever ready to his lips; care
to him but a phantom-rare, delightful
Vagabond was Old Bill
"Business!' Old Ri philosophised once
upon a time. Don't talk to me about
business! What is business? Business,
the way I've seen the Worl1in' Of it,
is jest a fndin' out that your neighbor
has got a dollar, n then a-layin' awake
o. nights thinkin' up how youm goin'
to git that dollar away from him with
out it's costin' you anythin' but trouble,
n then maxim him pay for that"
Such a reprehensible philosopher was
Old Bt
Sly rascal though he was, Old 'Bi did
not know, one day when I left the Buck
horn to try the trout in the creek that
crawled through the valley half a mile
away, that I knew he was watching me
from behind a cherry tree in Peggy s
garden, but 1 knew it, and was there
fore not surprised when half an hour
later he came upon me suddenly as I
lay upon the bank, few yards above
where the creek began its winding course
through the big stretch Of dark hemlock
woods, his rod in his hand, ana he,
to all seeming, flushed with the exercise
of long and hearty whipping Of the
stream below.
1 was not surprised, because If he had
not appeared thus should have imagined
that all sorts of things had happened
to hin-because had flask in my peck
ct, and Old 'Bi suspected it. But
pretended to be surprised, and mis- we'll
simulated establishment at seeing me was
delicious.
A big and lusty trout had risen to my
fly. 1t was a long cast away, where the
fcam-fleeked water eddied back to give
a parting caress to the messy rock 1t had
kissed in passing, and snap! the fly smell,
frayed perhaps, had parted, freeing the
coveted prize, and netting me. So 1 had
thrown myself on the grassy bank to