Sequachee Valley news. (Sequachee [Sequatchie], Tenn.) 1896-1952, 1913-06-05
The Story of
;. PHILIP a::.::'::: { :sa:'s a... Jim Crob

say. "Jim, who is it that takes too
much cider" Jim would give his
wings the usual flap, and answer by
shouting out "Carr' saying it twice,
Carr Carr
If any one in the shop knew Of
something Mr.. Carr would not like
talked about, Jim was always asked
the question, "WhoS'' The answer
was sure to come, and the old gentle
man would wake up. He was sure Jim
was bewitched. Witches were much
believed in at that time. With Mr..
Carr's fuddled mind it was easy to be
sure that Jim was witch of the
deepest dye. So Mr.. Carr would grab
his old cane angrily and stamp out
ito get the fresh air. as he would
say.
By the way, have now that same
old cane. found it had long sword
in it that we boys knew not of.
One of Jim's accomplishments was
to be up very early in the morning.
He would get on the fence near faith
er's sleeping loom, and let out his
"caw" or 'car," at the top of his
voice, to the great annoyance of faith
er. and no wonder.
Father said to me- one day: "Phil-
ip, you take Jim off to the woods and
leave him. Don't bring him back. :"
So took Jim in my arms and went to
the woods where found him in the
nest. Jim seemed to know there was
something wrong, for was crying hot
tears all the way, as though my heart
would break to think I would never
see dear Jim again
He had a way of making a little
cunning noise as if he was trying to
say something. He would turn up his
bill and his eyes seemed to cry with
mine. He seemed to understand all l
said to him, on our sad way.
After long while we came to the
place in the woods where his nest u.s.
ed to be. There was a stone wall on
which l. put Jim, and then i knelt
down and talked and cried, holding
him to my heart, for was honest in
my effort to lose him 1 had to be!
At last I sobbed out my goodby and
began backing away, until out of
sight At the time Jim was on the
wall curled up like spot of black
ness When out of sight put in and
ran my best licks for home. After
running a while thought l heard
familiar "caw." Looking up, there
was Jim flying over the tops of the
trees, and thus he followed me all the
way. At my call he came flying to
my arms as happy as was to clasp
him to my heart.
Well, father found losing bim would
not work, and he said very little
more about it, for he saw | was touch
Ell in a tender spot.
But Jim was up early mornings
again after while of quietness on
his part, and on the fence in bis usual
morning place. and Justify giving out
his ''caws." " After while father
could stand it no longer, and one
morning, almost before daylight, he
jumped from his bed, grabbed the old
tiintlock gun, and, while Jim was flap
ping his wings, as usual when any of
us came near him, poor Jim was shot
dead Later found him in the grass
beside the fence. My heart was really
broken then.
| know in all my sorrows in later
life none was ever greater or more in
tense than my grief at that time. And
l find now as l pen these words big
lump comes chokingly in my throat.
and live over again the sorrow Of
that-to me-sad occasion.
The children about the village were
"a with me because our dear Jim
Crow was no more to play with us.
We found q little toy cart, with
spool wheels, on which we put "the
remains" surrounded with flowers,
and big white rose under his head
for a pillow. We formed procession,
and, slowly moving, took Jim down
by a nearby pond where he had caught
many frog. There we dug grave
and lowered the remains covered with
flowers, into it, as we had seen done
at regular funerals. "We carved not
a line," but we did raise stone, and
then cleft him alone in his glory"
have never been to that village
where we lived up to ten years of my
age-since without visiting Jim
Crows grave In the summer the cat
birds in the alder bushes sing over bis
resting place.
The last time visited Jim's grave I
was eighty years old The stone was
gone, but | knew the exact spot.
stood with uncovered head, with the
same feeling of love and loss | had
when we, a group of boys and girls.
stood with dropping heads taking our
last fond look at our loved playmate.
| thought of the lines in an old song
about THE Old Farm Gate,
How strangely the warm spirit grud |
gss to part
MAX kbo roI;n opao lipEa1