The Tupelo journal., 1903-07-31

The Visitor sat forward again on
his chair. Then the story was com
ing at last?
"Stole the doughnuts you say,
Uncle jacob" he said, with gentle
insinuation.
whats that? Oh, the dough-
nuts? Land Of liberty, amt I told
you that yarn yet? I'm a terrible
critter to go preambling along! Now
we'll get down to business. You see
great-grandmother KEEP this chist
up attic to store summer clothes in
winters and visy versy, winter
clothes in summers. She vas a ter
rible hand to keep things just SO.
They say she always used to keep
great-grandfather's winter shirts to
one end of the chist and the sum-
mel mes to the other end, when it
come their turn to be stored. And
once, when she was laid up with
phthisic, one O the family packedthe
clothes away for her. When she
come to unpaek 'em, they warn't in
the right end, and it worked great
granmother up so that she had an
other spell of the phthisic. That's
what they say, but, land of liberty an
freedom, you can't believe more'n
quarter what folks says! Now right
over to Cross Corners, opposite the
Westinghouse there useter be an old
woman that folks said"
The dangling toes of the Visitor
beat a persistent tattoo on the
rounds of his chair. He would never
get to the story! Uncle Jacob must
be switched off from that Cross Cor
ners road instantly and on to that
"chist" again. The Visitors supper
bell would ring presently, and he
wanted to hear that doughnut story
first.
"Say, Uncle Jacob, did you say
your great-grandmother kept her
doughnuts in the chest?" the Visitor
asked suddenly.
ooh! well, she didn't, not to say
keep 'em there, but she hid 'em there
once when she was going to camp
meetin' with great-grandfather to
spend the day. She locked 'em in
good and secure, but along about
noon time, | reckon twas, grand
father got real doughnut hungry.
didn't want the mince pie and
cookies and baked beans all ready for
him in the buttery-he wanted
doughnuts, and grandfather was just
as set as-as-well, as | be! l cal
culate setness is just as hereditary as
the consumption. Now, there's the
Bealses, they"
Didn't he like the mince pie?"
broke in the Visitor, hastily. The
Visitor was fond of mince pie.
mo, he didn't. He wanted
doughnuts, and he had 'em. He KEEP
hunting all the afternoon for 'em,
getting hungrier and hungrier and
setter and setter. Long about milk
ing time he went up attic and poked
round there. Then he knew he'd
got 'em! He could smell 'em! You
could smell great-grandmother's
d%oughnuts, they do say, clear from
their house to the schoolhouse-
fairs from here to Job Milliken's, l
calc'late. Anyhow, you could smell
'em through inch boards, and grand
father smelt 'em through this chist-
real tasty, mountaineering smell.
He couldn't STAN it. He got the
chisel and hammer, and cut a hole
right through where you can see that
nailed on. It's a terrible jag
gedy hole you a see from inside,
but that was because grandfather was
in such a pucker. He was doughnut-
hungry. But he was a master-hand
at tools, for a boy, other times"
"Well?"
"Well he eat 'em up-that's what.
Then he went clear out to the Joint
O. the roads to meet great-grand-
mother an own up. That's the kind
of boy my grandfather was!"
The Visitor Strengthened back and
dilated eyes indicated that if ever he
were
would be just his own mode
of procedure-even to going beyond
the "joint Of the roads"
"He was quite a man, my grand
was!" Uncle Jacob kept on,
the old chest with Wig
orous heels. Then he looked down on
the two uncomely fingers on his right
hand, and they appealed to him re-
mindingly.
"Well, grandfather died of a good,
green old age. The chist lived along
through another generation, up in
that attic; then it was moved over
to our attic. Father was a real neat