Lakeland Evening Telegram Newspaper, May 13, 1913, Page 7

I3 &3 e e T aake )= rst 10 middle age, in the dust and heat, near the rear of the wagon, the man; e T T 70 THE HILL “KENTRY” BY HENRY €. woOD. ————————————— «Lor! Lor! Jabez,” mumbled the old woman, the wagon wheels creak. | ing a fitting accompaniment to her | high, shrill voice, “I'm skeered weuns | won't never git ter the hill kentry. | Hit seems a powerful long way oft.” A man and woman, both past the plodded wearily along the woman | Lot the horse's head. “Weuns ‘Il get thar all right, mother,” answered her husband, en- ouragingly, after a little space of silence, “by ter-morrow we-une ought ter see the blue hills onct mo’ by inoon ter-morrow.” The spent horse staggered to the de of the road, and began to nib- ! ple at & small patch of green up.' der the shade of a protecting bush, The man waited. “That's right, Baldy—eat all you- s kin,” he said, kindly. “Hits a ght smart journey, yit, but we-uns | git thar, mother, don't ye fret,” he dded. confidently. The horse, somewhat refreshed by he mouthful or two of green grass, tarted again on its slow journey down he white stretch of dusty road, In the afternoon they reached a city jhat lay in the path of their journey. The noise and movement confused he old couple—the sight of many trange faces struck them with a' pighty sense of loneliness and soli- ude—the country and the hills they | pught were as famillar friends, but' he hurrying crowds seemed pitiless nd apart from them. There was a ertain friendliness in nature that was together lacking in the busy haunts ' t man. Besides, to these two, the city was mbolical of all that was evil, and el, and callous. Was it not a city possibly this very ome—that had | allowed in its insatiable maw an pnocent girl that this old couple had herished and called daughter? Little wonder that they now looked bout them with awe and dread, and ere eager to quit the hot, noisy reete and rench the open fields once ore. The man chirruped a kindly note of hcouragement to the worn-out horse. response the faithful animal quick- ped its slow pace for a few steps, and en suddenly went down on the hard ones of the street to rise no more, In helpless apathy the couple opped, bewildered and dazed, then as e full enormity of the disaster wned on the woman's mind, she ng herself down on her kuees, and ed vainly to lift the head of the ing animal into her lap, calling en- | the crowd to sce the ones who might ter leave we-ung here? The hill ken- try ain't but o little piece off—jes’ ter- MOTrow. (Can't ye take we-uns only thar—;jes’ {hapsn Wother, he's at the end of bls: said the man, gently, 1do the patched and S Irom the motionless As he spoke he brushed his ' vely across his weather-beat. as he be m to mended harpes animal, hand furtj €n face, A crowd of the curious and idle be. | 1 8N to gather, some with flippant jests : | 8t the forlorn light of the two travel- touched with pity at the itics of the scene, Wwoman arose and looked irom one face to another, ing only that each one was d that the hill “kentry” was ! tragic qu The olg [ helplessly ¢, i understandi \Slmn"(‘ an yet far awy “Weuns lnm from Injiana,” she | sald, in her drawling tones, as | the crowd p d nearer. “My son, Jim, lives thar—Dim an’ his wife an’ | ter children, ns went out thar i ter live, but Jim's wi , she warn't willin', an’ ¢ we-uns started back ter the 1\1Il kentry, whence we-uns kem, Jim, though, he warn't to blame, : ot :erS, we-uns hope none o' \ouu uns ‘Il ever know what hit is ter bc in trouble like this, an’ ole, an’ po’.” Her simple story seemed suddenly {to arouse a wave of sympathy that 8wept over the motley crowd. One | brawny young workman, with the memory of a mother's love still fresh in his heart, took oft his hat, and dropping into it a liberal offering, upussed the hat from one to another, while a shower of silver and bills fell | into it, as if by a magician’s skill, Even & poor creature of the streets, with haggard face and sin-haunted | eyes, cast her last coln among the others, then pressed her way through be more wretched than she. The two women looked into each other's eyes—the one pair brimming over with new-born gratitude—the oth. er dim with awakened conscience, and then the younger woman threw herselt down at the dusty, tired feet of the elder, and kissing the wrinkled hand, | cried out: “Mother, take me back to the hill | country with you!” (Copyright by Daily Story Publishing Co.) Stage Life Today. “You say you are an actress?” “Yes."” “And what experience have you had a8 an actress?”" “Well, I testified in the Wombat trial, and again in the great trunk mystery case.” Over one thousand cars of celery have been shipped from Sanford this season, THE EVENING TELEGRA HIS NAME WAS JOHN By STANLEY B, HOUCK. His name was John, despite the fact that he was called Jack; and he was & junior in college. Her name was Marjory, and she was a senior, Jack was sitting on the library steps scheming a means of relieving himselt from a self-imposed dilemma of which he was on one horn and Marjory the other, She had started it three years he- fore at a reception where they had met. Bince then neither had lost any opportunity of assuring the other of | his undying aflection in many varied and amusing ways. Now he wanted seriously to tell her of his love for her, but he had told her of it so often in fun that he| couldn’t quite see any way of making her take his declaration as being made seriously in earnest and not made merely in fun, “A penny for your thoughts, Jack,” she said, brightly, when at last she arrived. “Thinking about you, Marjory,” he replied. “The trouble is that I'm afraid you'll cut me dead it I tell you my thoughts.” *“No, I won't.” “All right. Let's take a walk down the river, and I'll think it over,” he decided, making a sudden reso- lution. As they went along he began to wonder what the outcome of it all would be. The more he thought the weaker his resolution became—there was Marjory, the prettiest and most perfect girl in the world, and on the other hand, here was he, just an or dinary, average sort of a fellow. At last they pasred below the last clty bridge, and were alone by . the river, away from all the noise and ac- tivity of the busy city. *‘Are you going to tell me now?” she asked, “No, not yet,” he answered, sparring for tlme, “but if you will tell me what you were thinking about while we were coming here, maybe I'll begin to lead up to it.” “lI was wondering whether this would be the last time I would ever take this walk, and you don’t know how sad it makes me feel to think how soon my school days will be over for ever.” “That's just what I was thinking, Marjory, and I was wondering how it would seem next year to take this walk without you. Do you know, I've never taken this walk with any other girl but you? and when I think of you not being here next year, it makes me feel as though I'll never go down LAK FLAND, FLA.,, MAY 13, 1913. | 1y! you-uns ain’t a-goin’ ' “_1 | this way enjoying it the way I have.” “We have had some mighty good times together, haven't we, vack?” “So good that I'll never forget them.” He paused a little and then began again: “Do you remember the first night we me! and became ao quainted?” Do I? Well, I should say I did. I don’t believe two people ever became 80 “chummy” in so short a time as we did; and you were just as impu- dent as you could be, too.” “Do you realize that this is the first really serious talk we've ever had?” he said, “I do believe you're right, Jack; I know I couldn’t crack a joke today if my life depended upon it.” “Let’s sit down on this tree trunk awhile before we go back,” he said without replying. For awhile neither spcke. Then he said: “Marjory.” “Yes, Jack.” “Shall I tell you now what I was | thinking of when you found me at the library steps?” “Of course; that's what we came way out here for, wasn't it? It must be something important, or you wouldu't have come so far.” He turned his eyes upon hers and they so spoka in anticipation of his words that she instinctively felt what he was about to say and a slow flush crept up over her cheeks and her eyes dropped from his. He noticed it, and it gave him an inexplicable thrill of strength to say: “I was wondering whether you loved me, Marjory, dear; I was wondering whether- I could come back here again next year and be happy with you gone. 1 was thinking how much I needed you. Why, I've loved you ever since I first saw you, and every word I've ever said to you in all our joking, I've meant, and more, with all my heart and soul. Why, I've got 80 used to thinking I belonged to you that I haven't done a thing all these years without asking myself what you'd say to it If you knew. I can’t say any more, dear, just I love you, love you, all the time. Will you tell me, now, what you are going to do with me?” Then she raised her eyes to his again, and they were glistening with Joy. “Oh, Jack, you dear, dear, big, blind goose—you're worse than Cupid hime selt.” Then she was swallowed up in a hungry embrace. (Copyright, by Dally Story Pub. Co.) Uselessness, “I should advise you to join the Soclety for the Prevention of Useless Giving,” said the unenthusiastic man. “But you are inconsistent. As a rule, there isn’t anything you can give a man that is liable to prove more useless than advice.” I l 1 | 10c¢. BULK DRIED APPLES Ib. Pure Food Store W.P, Pillans & Co. PHONE 93 Hnd to Know the Time. “I understand,” sald the judge, “thal you stole the watch of tke doctor who had just written a prescription for you at the free dispensary. What have you to say to this charge?” *Well, your honor,” eaid the prisoner, “it 1s true, but I found myselt in & hole His prescription sald a spoonful every hour, and I had no watch.” —————— Didn't Concern Him. The tramp did away with a sanéd- wich handed to him by the latest far- mer wife he had favored with a call. 8he had wrapped the sandwich In a section of newspaper, which the tramp scanned with the eye of carelessness characteristic of his kind. “My idea of nothin’ to git nutty about.” he re marked to himself, after glancing at & market report, “is the advance of §3 a ton ia the price of car wheels."— Shopping In the Ozark District, “You keep sportin' goods yur, don% you?” inquired a fraszled looking citizen from out on Rumpus Ridge, ad- dressing the proprietor of the hard wore store at Polkville, Ark. “Eb heh, that's what | 'lowed. Well, what I was aimin’ to git was a straight Jacket for a crny man."—Kansas City Star. e—n KiLL ALL The great insect de stroyer and disenfec- tant. Kills insects ofall kinds instantly. Sold by W. J. WARING & CO. UPHOLSTER.WG AND MATTRESS MAKING. 0la Mattresses made over; cushioms of all kind made to order. Drep me & postal card. Arthur A Douglas 416 8. Ohio Street. . Wis Pleaswre. A famous king said: “If men only tmew how pleasant to me it is 1o fos give faults, there is not one of them who would not commit crime.” —From he Orieat The Services of Artist;s Are Yours When You Bring Your Printing to the Lakeland News Job Printin g Office OU get your work done by people who know--who will not let some foolish error creep into your work that will make your printed matter ineffective, and perhaps subject it to the amused comment of discriminating people. e Our plant turns out ten newspapers every week--two of them being sixteen-page papers of state-wide circulation; but this does not mean that we do not a!so. give t.he closest attention to the small work. An order for visiting cards, or for.prmtmg a rib- bon badge, or a hundred circulars, is given the same careful considergtlon that en.ables us to secure and successfully carry out our large contracts. And, having had to fit up for the bigger work naturally enables us to do the smaller work better. KENTUCKY BUILDING For Printing--a Line or a Volume--We Are At Your Serbice HE LAKELAND NEW>s JOB OFFICE