Belt Valley times. [volume] (Armington, Mont.) 1894-1977, 1922-12-14

@@~ AAANa "A - E4AAF -
the morning"
I'D like very much to go" answered
Drace. But can we get back before
ThursdayT'
Easily by Wednesday morning.
Anything important for Thursday"
~Oh, no. An old fellow down at the
ferry wants me 10 go fishing with him
Thursday. and l gave him my word
that I'd be on hand Most remarkable
old man, full of fun; quite a charae-
ter"
you must mean old Spence. But
are you sure 1t Is not hat pretty
daughter of his that attracts your
You'll have to be a little careful, my
son. We may associate with men out
Of our social running. but not with
women. All, Tycie Mr.. Drace
has just consented to give me his CON-
pany to Natchez."
The Black Hawks band played a
welcome, and the captain came down
the plank to conduct the General on
board. From a quiet. lazy and almost
deserted landing the place leaped into
the full throb OF life. Negroes and
shiftless whites came from their novels
to gaze upon the magic splendor OF
this journeying palace. and the three
shell man stepped ashore TO gather up
dollars.
Dinner was a state occasion, and
after 1t. the ball. Then their state
rooms-then morning, n Natchez.'
The address was to be delivered in
the afternoon. and when the time came
the General led him over TO the hall to
hear the speech, imprisoned him with
out bail In a corner, and there he had
to sit. The address was long, academic
and dull, and the sufferer mused:
81 don't see why Shottle ever called
you a remarkable character"
Everybody came about the General
to take his hand. Young women told
him that they had never been so
thrilled. Drace lied TO him. too, swore
him an orator.
LET US walk of alone" said the
General.
Slowly they walked at first, but after
a time the old gentleman struck a
brisker pace toward the River.
Now, my boy, as we've got through
with those beaters of dust out of old
carpets. Wen have some fun. Old
Colonel Pemberton wanted me to go
home with him, and he has a delight
full house. a gracious wife and hand
nxsr 1c.r~I4x~ H-s 4 I.l - Iz1I4-n
I've stood about as much now as l
can. Wen 60 down to old lobe Ma
sons tavern. under the hill. lobe Is
a gentle old fellow. never killed but
three men,
The tavern was as tough a place as
river men could make 1t. Built of logs.
bricks, stone and c%lapboards, 1t looked
like an architectural stagger, trying
TO climb the hin. In the main o
was the bar.
"Well, I'll be knocked In the head
for a steer y old lobe cried out, stump
ing toward the General. II haven't
seed you since the River tuck fire.
Well, Welt Thinkin' about you the
other day. Glad TO shake your
hand, Mr.. Drace. Set right down"
.'Tobe, I'm glad to see you" said the
General. "And fetch us about two
quarts of that summer-grape wine-Let-
me tell you about 1t, Drace. We have
a wild grape here that gets ripe along
In August. It's much larger and Is not
sour like the fox-grape, and its vine
likes to climb about a sassafras sap
ling. And then you see an umbrella OF
grapes. Now don't say a word till
you've had a good taste of II. lob
makes 1t himself. and he'll fetch us
some that's at least twenty-five years
old. Here we aresr
The wine was as red as blood, cool
and yet warm. Its flavor was the rip
ened sweetness of the spirit Of autumn,
IT was as mellow as the scent of the
apple at harvest time.
"what do you think of II, hey?"
"Uncle Howard, are you sure that
this was not made by Bacchus instead
of Tobe?"
"Good. my boy Enjoying yourselfr
Eyes, I'm doing fine, General. You
see, / can't express myself as well as
you can. l haven't as much TO draw
from. You've not only ~book-knowl-
edge but experience, worth more so
cially than all the libraries In the
world"
you hit Ii off well. But what Is
better than 1t all? Moral freedom.
This table here is rough. with q
leg slightly drawn; these
chairs we sit In, bottomed with strips
hickory bark, would be scorned at
a sherifrs sale; but sir, Mark Antony.
In his first triumph. his chariot drawn
by lions, was not more regal than we
are at this moment, enthroned and
sceptered with moral freedom. Pour
out, for as that same Antony said:
'Scant not my .cups.-Tobe, where's
that old scoundrel who used to play
The Arkansaw Traveller"
lobe stumped his way owe from the
bar.
- - crG.x--~au