The Pickens sentinel-journal. (Pickens, S.C.) 1903-1906, 1905-08-02

cd the pOst0ffice went Into the
A-1r9 little building, looked abScntly
INTO his lock box, and then, taking
street that led past the town park
ana several Of the most pretentious
churches, he soon reached his house,
which was two story brick building
with IN old fashioned white vcrnnda
and nn l.. The house, like many others
In tho place, stood OH big lawn shnd-
cd by large oaks, mngnolias and null
berry trees. \ wide walk bordcrcd
with stuntcd roscbushcs Of some cheap
variety and covered with gravel
reached from the gate to the steps.
Along the side fcuce was Il row Of bee
hives, md frisl1lng about in the yard
WAS young calf.
Mrs. Ifillycr was in the sitting room
with her niece, u rather plain girl Of
thirty, Miss IIortense Snowdcn, who
had been living with the ulllycrs since
tho death Of her parents, twelve months
before. They both rose Mt the sound
Of the merchants step in the wide. ull-
carpctod hall, and when he hnd enter
cd they stood waiting for him to sit
down before resuming their seats at the
open fireplace, In which some dry hick.
Dry logs on old fashioned brass headed
dog irons were chcerfully nblazc, fur
nishing the chief light Of tho shaded
room.
"Woli. anybody would know from
his looks how the case come out" said
Mrs. Hillyer ns she sat down and
spread out her calico skirt. "An' eff II
had n been dark 1 could "a rcnd the
news In the way he put his feet down
IN the hail." She was short, cheerful
looking woman past fifty. Her eyes
were almost black, very keen, and they
flashed mt all times with a mcrrlment
that seemed rs much part Of her az
electricity Is part Of an electric bat
terry. Her hair was abundant and red
dish brown and fell in intrnctablr
waves over her brow and ears
"Yes, 1t not only went clean agin the
old man. but Judge Moore p'intcdly re- |
fused to cut It down to fine" Hill
yers voice had tone Of deep de
eyes OH the fire.
AN l kin see you mighty nigh had
a spasm over It," replied Mrs. IIillycr.
"Lawsy me, ef never found anything
to worry about till I worried over the
just punishment leveled on the hend
o that old scamp Id go to my grave
without gray hair or wrinkle. }
That's the trouble with you an George ,
both. You are not carryin' out the
Scriptural injunction not to kick agin L
tho pricks. I don't know exactly what .
the good book snys about It. l disre-
member. In fact, l don't know that ! |
ever run acrost 1t In print myself, but
you bet It's thar. My father, who
eat an slep' with the Bible In his
hand, used to always keep suyin, when
IolKs was continually a-complninin'.
Don't kick agin the pricks.' AM he
was right. Ef you set down on a board
with tack in 1t, the harder you set
the more tack you git an that's so
with life. It's full Of tacks, an don't
you forgit 1t. The Lord put old Buck
ley in Jail to keep i'm In bunch Of his |
kind, 80 the devil wouldn't root around |
among good folks 30 much to keep up
with i'm, but Oh. no! You amt
a-goin' to put up with 1t. an right now
yore face Is sour enough lookn' to
spile cream in tho middle O. Dccem-
ber."
II was thinkin' about George" said
Hillyer softly. TITS mighty nigh kill
in i'm"
THAT'S 80, Aunt Martha" spoke up
Hortense Snowden. ITS awful Oh
him. Why, just think Of it. The best
people in barley receive him and like
him. He was rising rapidly, but a
thing like this. as proud and sensitive
40 he ts, will almost kill him."
"YOu kin laugh an make sport as
much as you want to-" said Hillyer,
more boldly, IAN you needn't kick agin
nothin' unless you want to, but it's jest
like Bortie says. He won't be able to
face the music. He's all right when
he ain't driv' too fur, but this has al
ready started lin to drinkin' ag'in."
ooh, uncle, you don't mean It"
e "Yes, It has" groaned tho merchant,
"an' the Lord only knows whar it's 60.
In to end"
"Ruhi say, then, George Buckley
alatn'S tho man tuck i'm fer" retorted
Bsgs, 1Eillyef. "I wtsh could .keteh
Il q .