The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1902-08-01
SLEEPY CREEK FOLKS

appeared all reminders OF the strShuO4s
life. With a sigh OF relief the passenger
who had just stepped from the train tilted
his SLOUGH hat on the back OF his head and
his face lit up with smile OF pleasure and
anticipation as he turned TO the cOuntryman
who stood by his side watching the disap-
pearing tram.
asked.
"AH right, sir, and they viii be very glad
Ia see YOU. The missus has plenty OF spring
chickens and I've saved you iine Jowl from
one of them Berkshires TO boil with your
greens tomorrow.
THAT'S bully. Have you any bait, and IS
the water in condition.!
eyes. Jake spent the forenoon seining for
minnows and got hundred beauties and
the water was never better. Jim Mosely
caught eight bass before breakfast TINS
morning
The two had been walking up the elnder
nath by the traekside as they talked, and
now reached the little group which had
gathered about the small station in front OF
which the forward coaches had stopped.
Sleepy Creek wasn't much of place, just
two houses and small freight shed, painted
red on the platform of which rested an
a couple of slabs Of "side-meat" On the
ground beside the freight shed was group
of residents, headed by Ben Holiday, who
kept the general store and, as the maIl
nouch slung across his shoulder indicated,
also was postmaster.
A chorus of "howdys" and cordial hand
shakes greeted the passengers salutation,
after which he walked toward the river to
get the boat ready, while his guide fingered
until the mail was opened. Depositlng his
grip in the boat he sat in the stern and
filled his pipe, and after the first long Whit
settled back with a grunt of satisfaction
as he took in the scene.
To the eastward Old Broadback stretched
away across the landscape, massive and pom
derous, his rugged heights touched by the
last rays of the departing day, while the
shadows already were darkenlng IN the ra'
vines below. To the westward in the gap IN
Sideling hill. the sun was sinking, clear and
red, promising fine day for the morrow.
In that way the river flowed in narrow
channel of molten gold, ripping to the line
of shadow cast by the mountain on the wa
ter.
Nearer by the river went deep, silent and
dark With the going down OF the sun the
air had turned suddenly chill and came
favored with little tinge of forest smoke
that betokened fire in the mountains.
Once the passengers caught Whit OF ba-
con that was more stimulating to the appe-
tite than a cocktail. Wood smoke, bacon
and mountain air form a combination OF
outdoor odors that once smelled can never
be forgotten.
Soon old man Mac came trudging down
the path with the mail and his purchases
from the store and showed the boat off. As
they rowed across the river they heard some
fellow along the towpath singing that
Quaint country SOM "Old Joe Bowers"
From farmhouse rear the river a chorus
of frantic squeals and grunts indicated
feeding time for the nogs. The jangling Of
COW bells in several different keys was
evidence that little Hank was getting the
cattle in for the night. The odor of bacon
in the night air was unmistakable now, and
with it came flavor of coffee and hot
bread. The passengers were getting hungry.
The unpretentious frame house on the
hillside Just above the river, looked very
inviting with its lights and little wood
fire glowing in the fireplace to keep off the
dampness in the night air. Old Macs
daughter was fitting about the room set
ting the table when the two went in and
were greeted by Mrs Mac and little Hank
and the rest of them.
After supper the men folks sat on the
porch to smoke, being joined by Jake and
Jim Mosey and Pete Hawkins, neighbors,
who knew there would be visitors when
they saw the limited stop at the station.
1t was beautiful out there on the porch.
One seemed very much closer the sky than
in town. The great arc of the heavens
was studded with stars shining brilliantly
in the clear mountain air A whippoorwills
mournful cry came from the dark hillside
across the river, while the night sounds of
the forest nearer by filled the air.
cold Mrs. Purdy died this week." said
Mac after a pause which had followed
desultory discussion of the prospects of
fishing for the next day. They lived out on
The Ridge just where you turn Oft the
pike to go to Haines' mills.
eve all went to the funeral, of course.
She was buried in the graveyard at Mt.
Pisgah church, and Parson WEIGH preached
a powerful sermon. Old Man Purdy seemed
to kind of lean on me in his hour of trib-
ulation, and | brought him back to his
house in my buggy. ! wanted him to come
home with me- but he said no, so we drove
up to his little place all alone, the other
folks having turned off at different roads.
ct was late in the afternoon, just before
shutdown, when the sunshine has that lone
some, melancholy look, you know. The
little house looked mighty forlorn, because
we knew there was something missing in
it. The chickens stood around the back
door step, kinder detected, as if they sus-
pconed there was something wrong and
that feeding time might be missed. Old
Mrs. Purdy's cat was stretched out on the
kitchen window sill, and | am sure the crit
ter knew what had happened.
eve went into the back sittin' room.
There was old Mrs. Purdy's specs on the
table by the window and one of his socks
she was darning the night she took to bed
He would allow nobody to touch it when
they were settin' up with her. The sickly
looking sunshine fell in square patch
on the frayed rag carpet, which Mrs
Purdy had made when she and the old man
were heap younger. / stayed with him
until his niece, Sarah Jennings, came ovell
to get him his supper, then started home.