Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-09-01
THE DAILY STORY.
A Pattern in Sweetness.
BY A. C. DAVIS.

THE first summer I was fourteen years
DID, said Ezra Button, II worked for
Uncle Hiram Macumber. and that was
one OF the tryin'est epochs I ever en-
joyed. He wasn't my uncle, I'm glad to
say. but everybody called him uncle SO
/ did. He was afraid / wudn't do enuf
work. and Aunt Ammi was afraid I'd eat
too much and between 'em both my
young life was hardly luxury. He pre-
tended to take great intrust In my soul.
and was allus p'intin' my hayward feet
toward Zion. as he sed. but he took more
intrust in SEEM how much work he cud
git out Of my body with the least fodder.
While he was pintedly prayin' for me at
the table his wife kept an eye on the W.T.
ties, sayin' I had more appetite for pie
than piety.
lot beyond the sheep paster. It was a
puff1ck epidemic of stones. stumps. briers,
shoomakes and scrub oats, intersnaggled
with witch hazel bresh, elbow roots.
blacksnakes and checkered adders. Un-
Gle Hiram was pilot OF the four yoke Of
oxen, and I was chaffur to the plough,
and l thought the Charge OF the Light
Brigade We ulster read Of in the school
book was Sunday school picnic with
red lemonade compared to the way I was
hauled through that mountin scenery.
Zone hot afternoon I'd had my speerit
ruffled till 1t did seem as eff I shud be
obleeged to adjern and say suthin cam
min. But Uncle Hiram didn't allow me
to use any langwidge calc-lated to relieve
the dammed-up feelin' under feller's
wishbone. A unholy ejackilashun hurt
him wuss, he said, than bein' kicked in
the stummfck by an OK. But that after
agin rocks, twisted through blackberry
jungles, and I'd stubbed the ends of Of
three Of my toes. stuck thorns in my feet
till they looked like pincushions. and
scratched my face with briers till was
a reglar 'Gipshun hiroglyphic. And I was
that ruffied that 1 wished iightin wud
strike the oxen. includin' Uncle Hiram,
and knock the hull caravan 300 mile
beyond Topaz, or some sech place I'd
heard him speak Of in his prayers. Jest
funny bone of my knee agin the plough
BEAM and afore / knew what / was
sayin'-an' I wudn't sed it eff. ia had
time to think--I up an yelled as loud as
me clean down to old Mr. cavendish's S,
eff they'd been lssninI yelled: Gosh
cuss 1t" Uncle Hiram brung his team
to amour with lound whoa! and gazed
onto me with eyes bulg1n' out like poun'
sweetin's AS soon as cud ketch my
breath ] tried to look inherent and child
like but it must been plum failyer.
At hippocritin I've never ben held up as
q sample copy.
what do you mean cried the pilot,
by eruptivatin' sech innockuous lang
widge into my ears?'
II tried to explain that what I said
was 'gusset'-that I'd tore the gusset
outen my shirt or trouses-Iid forgot
which 'twis that had gussets-and he
shouted that he'd cut the gussets outen
the hide OF sech uss-projectin' bias
pheminater.
"At that he brung his old ex-whip
round my laigs jest once, and thought
lightnin' had struck and missed em all
but me. Without waitin' to hand In my
resi'nation. I fiickered up high bank out
of his reach, and grabbin' up q stun, I
sed: Ell you hit me agin I'll sock this
rock into We. an I'll keep a-sockin' till
you're deader n Pharo an Collar. and
dom of speech is what my forefathers At
for. and eft l want er talk about my cues
sets or my galluses or my is'ban's or
any other part Of my scanty but homes
drapery. 1t amt for you to come at me
In that way. unless you're prepared to
die. furthermore 1 sed, 'I'll be sawl
dumd'-jest what sed-wicked. / know.