Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-12-22

be. An thanfie, too, an happy-happy as
bee in honey. But 'twoHid pc 3oy'
an extry joy, eff the swamp hadn't never
growed up. I should feel the way I ulster
as eff heaven was jes' before me in
plain sight"
$50 it's. wife. So tits. An not so fur
off at furdest.'
1T don't care, I wisht that swamp
could be struck by lightnin' fust!'
"Lightnin' never struck a hull ten-acre
| lot at onst.''
ut might set fire to it,
AN burn up somebody's wood lot!
| Why. Hubby. I'm 'shamed on ye!"
You orter be. I'm 'shamed on myself.
But 1 feel jes' So. We ain got many
| years to live, as you say; and I'd like TO
see that likeness OF the Promised Land
an hev Laury see 1t. do no as Asa'd
care so much. Laury likes it open all
about her. She'd stay here more. Shed
hev her colored chaIlxs out in no time.
/ Them paintin' people down In Peebie's
| pastur'd maybe give her some hints. An
| you know the minister said Laury he'd
real gift for drorin'. But there she won't
be here tell Christmas time. Sakes alive
father. what Christmas it'd be 18th that
| swamp burned up"
We'll, WELL wife, as, long as we've got
| each other, an the children, here and In
heaven. and enou.a to keep the wolf
from the door
1T know. And I'm silly. An the dear
Lord knows I amt maxim no fuss. L m
! jes' sayin' what I'd like. / did useter
love that sight-an the LORD mace II. MY,
set by it. I'm happy as thin's are; but I'd
be happier eff that was throwed in"
Like a chrome down to the store
wen you're tradin' your butter. Wal:
she give me mine. 1 hope the day'll be
/ long o. comm wen / can't milk my cow
l an take her sweet breath. all made O.
clover blows. There. I guess the birds
| may have all I've left There's bunch
on top for luck. Yes, there they be.
| comm after 1t now. You can't make jell
18th them grapes, they're too ripe, little
mother
They'll make sweetmeat all right"
An there's nothin' nicer'n your grape
sweetmeat 18th my meat. But Tor sakes'
I guess you'd cook sawdust so't would be
tasty. I'm glad we've got suthin' to cook
with-not like them city folks. dependn'
on coal an none to depend on. That's a
noble wood pile we've got. There's nothin'
liks bein' forehanded. Come, it's gittin'
dampish, an you'd better be thinkin' O.
your rheumatics. Eff they'd dreen that
| swamp you wouldn't be havin' rheu-
mates. I lay most of our ails to the
damps that rises fun there. I'd sell the
place an git away tomorrow, Ell there
was any one to buy.
mo no. I wouldn't have you. You've
got a silly old wife. moonin' over some
thing she's lost sight Of" and she went
carried the basket of grapes on one arm.
but he put the other arm about her to
help her a little. AN wen we say
grace, Hubby, we'll thank the Lord We
even he'd the picter, an hev it still to re-
member" he said.
In the doorway Of the little red house
on a lower terrace Of the knoll two other
persons were talking. as It CHANGED. upon
the same theme. The curve of the hill
hid all but gable OF the little req mouse
in Peeble's pasture from the eyes OF the
old people above, and the forest of the
swamp hid from 1t. also, the view OF
plain and river and hill that had SO fed
the poetry in the soul of the little mother
"Well." said Luzanne. looking over he
husbands shoulder, before the CLOSED
easel and color-box ITS great thi
coming into the country to paint ant
photograph winter scenes. and hndinl