The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1904-09-28

knees an couldn't hardly stand. My
wife come an found me. I didn't tell
her about my cancer, an she thought
I was jest sick from some'n' I'd eat,
an when the doctor come I was afeard
to tell i'm about the sore place. He
left some medicine, an I made ut'like
I tuck it, but I th'owed 1t away, After
that I'd make point to stop an talk
to i'm every day to see ef he'd notice
my face an speak Of it, but be didn't
I've started up to his Office fifty times
an backed out, jest beca'se I couldn't
bear to be told that it was q cancer
Howsomever, one day, when it was
more infamed than ever, went to his
offce-as weak as sick kitten, feelin'
jest like man goin' to the scaffold.
T went In an set down an waited fer
I'm to git through with somebody else.
an when he turned to me said, Doc,
I want you to take look at my face
he put on his specks an examined it;
then he laughed an said: TIL bet a dol
lar you thought it was cancer. Folks
nowadays is more anxious to raise can
GERS AN they are good taters.' But
amt it?' I aXed i'm. No. said he, it
hain't nothin' O. the sort. Eff you'll
quit rubbin' it every minute in the day
an stop thinkin' about it, It'll go away
In a week 7 felt as light as feather
when I left him, but it wasn't twenty
four hours fore I had some other all
ment.
81 was always lookin' fer the Lord
to show designs agin me. Fer one
thing. no children come to me N Mar.
tha, an I interpreted that as @eanin'
that, sence I'd put life out O. the world,
I shouldn't fetch it in. Most married
folks worry when they hatn't got some
offspring, but it worried me powerful.
l never seed q happy child Or proud
mother IN. father without feelin' the
Lords rebuke. On, George, George,
I'VE led the most awful life that was
ever led by a human bein', it seems to
mean + kept it all to myself, smtlin'
along with the rest, an tryin' to find
some loophole Of escape. Now here's
whar you come in, an you'll think II
odd, but I've started in to explain in
full, an I'm goin' to do it. You know
I used to pass yore pas place pretty
often, goin' to my river mill an farm,
an at the mill I frequently seed you
comm on that swaybacked old mare,
a-straddle Of Xore bag O. shelled corn
barefooted even in winter, with yore
hands an feet cracked with the cold.
It was common report about how bad
you was treated by yore daddy an
what a awful character he had. May
be you remember the talk me N you
had, an how you told me how anxious
you was to git schoolin' an books.
That was the fust day after my crime
that I got beam Of spiritual light. Il
come all over me like fash that ef !
could take you out'n yore degradation
an raise you to a respectable, useful
place in life I could atone in part for
what I'd done. Do you remember that
day, George"
George Buckley started, raised his
eyes from the floor in sharp stare at
the hagga:d face before him and said:
Yes, sir, I remember that cay"
"Well, I couldn't git away from the
idea. As I say, it was the fust bit OF
light Id had The following winter
you remember my proposal. Somehow
was even then afeard you'd refuse,
but you went off to school. An then
the weight and bitterness Of my heart
seemed to lessen, for every report l had
was glorious. You stood head; you
made the best speeches; you had the
most friends among teachers an pupils.
Oh, George, George, you don't know
what it meant to me; you seemed TO De
totin' me out of rushin' rivera river
rushin' toward hell! Then you know
about the job I give you here after you
graduated; every dollar you laid up an
properly invested was proof to me that
God had heard my long prayer an was
answerin' it in his own way. was
putin into life a man fer one l had
tuck out. Only one hitch occurred, an
that was when they threatened yore pa
with arrest fer pennin' up them hogs.
Then you got desperate an started IN TO
drinkin'. But we squashed that, an 1t
went on smooth again till this-thls
late matter. And now-oh, George, I'm
afeard-I'm afcard the Lord or the
devil. or both combined, have been
leadin' me through all this road o
promise jest in order to let me fall the
harder. I've come here tonight to pray
to you-yes, to you-to save me. If you
20 down, I do too. Now you see Whar
it all meant an what it means to me.
I'm in yore hands, my boy. AS Gods
agent. you hold me in the palm o yore
hand"
The old mans voice broke. He made
an effort to say something more, but
choked up, and, with his gaze on the
Macced rug in front Of him, he sat quite
motionlcss except for his heaVlng
shoulders. George Buckley bent for
ward. his hands tightly clasping eacn
other. Without word he rose and
went with steady step out into the
darkness Of the warehouse. Hllyer
heard his crunching tread as he walk
ed back and forth over the grain
strewn floor, and be knelt beside the
bed and tried to pray the prayer that
had rung in his old brain for thirty
years, but somehow the Worn words
refused to come. George Buckley's 81
lence was against him. His long de-
layed doom lurked in the dark silence
Of the great house. and in L moment
George Buckley wouli calmly bring 1t
forth and show it to him. Sudderig
from the darkness lie heard stlded
cry as Of pain; then a heavy weight
went down-George Buckley had fall
en-. \ cold sweat broke out on the
merchants face He feared he knew
not what, but he feared. Was his
doom about to show itself in a more
tragic shape than he had ever dreamed
III III, and slowly