_Second Monday, October._
Though the days are still warm, the nights are getting cool, and for the
sake of bare toes we began last night having a fire in the sitting-room.
It was the one thing needed,--I see that with its glowing warmth to
gather around, our family life will henceforth be much more intimate and
cheerful. Sydney Lanier says that two things are necessary to the making
of a real home,--an open fire and music. We have both. The fire had
hardly begun to crackle before Absalom had the banjo out, and was
singing in the chimney corner,--not bloody, recent song-ballads this
time, but, to my joy, famous old English ones forgotten centuries ago by
the rest of the world but wonderfully preserved here in the mountain
country. "Barbara Allen" was one ballad he sang; "Turkish Lady," "The
Brown Girl," and "The Specter Ship" were others. All the tunes were
queer, minor, and long-drawn-out, and sung in a kind of falsetto; and
between verses there is a very weary period of picking.
The boys all declare they prefer the newer ballads, such as "Blant's
Revengement," and "The Doom of the Mohuns," and that these old ones are
fit only for women-folks; but I noticed they listened absorbed.
_Friday._
Yesterday a wagon came in from the railroad,--a great occasion it is
when one arrives, all of us women flocking out and surrounding it before
the mules can stop, and receiving the packages and boxes destined for us
as if they were the most precious jewels,--indeed, they are valuable
after coming that long and difficult way. I was glad to find that my
cheerful dresses ordered last month had arrived, as well as the wire
corn-poppers and some rolls of wall-paper with great red roses for our
sitting-room.
_Saturday Night._
Cleo and Howard put the lovely red paper on our sitting-room
to-day,--when the boys and I came in from the garden it was all done,
and a shout of delight went up. Of course they have never seen anything
so beautiful.
I had another surprise for them. Prettiest of all my new dresses is a
cardinal crepe de chine, exactly matching the wall-paper. I put it on
for supper to-night, getting to the dining-room a little late. There was
much excitement at our table as I entered, and Jason created a sensation
by calling out, in his shrill voice, "Oh, yander comes my red stick of
candy!" Nucky said not a word; but the pride in his eyes was sufficient.
All during the meal, the boys vied with one another in passing me
things, and in saying "yes ma'am" and "no ma'am"; and I saw them
glancing around at other tables to observe the effect of my grand
costume.
Who, seeing me sit here before our cottage fire this evening, clothed in
the color of life and joy, with my happy and cheerful family close
around, would ever believe me to be the same woman who arrived here
something more than two months ago, with a heart even more dark and
desolate than her garb of woe? Truly, the ways and goodness of God are
past imagining.
_Thursday Night._
That the fraternal affection of the little Salyers is sound at the core
(much evidence to the contrary notwithstanding) was proved beyond doubt
by an occurrence last night. Hen is by nature deliberate, and is
especially so about washing his feet and getting undressed at night, not
yet having become reconciled in his mind to either process. He always
retires after Keats, and, now the nights are cooler, first tries to root
Keats out of his warm place, and, failing in that, doubles up and
plants his cold feet in the middle of Keats's back. The long-suffering
Keats rebels, and then follow howls, yells and a pitched battle, with
shrill cries for me from Geordie Yonts, the third boy in the bed. When I
arrive, the covers are on the floor, and the brothers fighting all over
their own bed, the other bed and boys, and the entire room, and calling
down horrible imprecations upon each other. In vain I have forbidden the
use of the shocking language,--neither threats nor punishments have
prevailed. Last night, after a particularly bad time, I called them into
my room, explained to them the full meaning of the words they were
using, and asked if either could possibly hate his brother enough to
wish to consign him to eternal torment. They made no answer, but went
off looking thoughtful. To-night when shrieks and howls announced the
usual battle, and I hurried to the scene, the Salyers were pounding each
other as mercilessly as ever, but this time, to my unspeakable relief,
they were calling out furiously, "God _help_ you!" "God _help_ you!",--a
decided change for the better, and, I thought, a most timely petition!
In their sane moments now, they talk of nothing but Cousin Emmeline's
funeral occasion and the visit home; and it is impossible for them to
decide whom they most desire to see,--whether Nervesty, or Sammy, or
Ponto, or the steers Buck and Brandy; while their longing extends also
to the other children, and to Charlie the "flea-bit" nag, Ole Suke, the
"pied" cow, Reddy the heifer, and the black sow, Julia.
_Sunday Evening._
On our way to the "church-house" this morning, I noticed that Iry wore
the long, ample homespun trousers in which he arrived. "Where are the
Sunday breeches I gave you?" I inquired.
"There they air," he said, pointing to Geordie's fat legs, which seemed
about to burst out of a pair of dark blue short trousers.
"Iry he just pestered me into trading with him," was Geordie's
explanation, "he said he were bound to have that gold ring I got out of
a prize box last week. Show it to her, Iry."
Iry put forth a small, dingy hand, adorned with a large, elaborate brass
ring.
"But you can see that wasn't a fair trade," I said indignantly to
Geordie.
"I knowed it weren't,--I knowed that ring were worth five times them
breeches, and I'd never see its like ag'in. But I felt sorry for him, he
wanted it so bad."
"No, I mean just the other way," I said sharply, "you paid a nickel for
that prize-box, didn't you?"
"Yes'm."
"And there was candy in it?"
"A little-grain."
"And you ate it?"
"What there were of it."
"And now you want to trade him the ring, which cannot be worth more than
two cents, for his Sunday breeches."
The "born trader" looked at me pityingly. "Miss Loring," he said,
"womenfolks haint got no understanding of prize-boxes. Sometimes you pay
your nickel down and don't git ary thing in 'em; and then ag'in there's
jewelries nobody can't tell _what_ they worth, they so fine. Thaint nary
ring like that ever been seed in these parts. Iry Atkins's got the
onliest ring like it on Perilous, or I reckon in Kent County, or maybe
in Kentucky! What's breeches to that?"
To this master argument, the fact that the ring would not keep Iry's
legs warm in winter seemed a puerile answer; still, with cold weather
coming on, and clothing scarce as hens' teeth, I was compelled to break
up the trade, and to forbid Geordie's making any more.
In the afternoon we went up Perilous, persimmon and buckeye hunting,
and later, after filling their shirt-fronts with the shiny ammunition,
the boys lined up on opposite sides of the creek and had a
buckeye-battle.
After supper I began reading the Story of Odysseus. When we came to the
place where the hero makes his escape from the cave of Polyphemus, Nucky
interrupted to tell the tale he promised while we were on Trigger, of
Blant's escape last spring, when for the first and only time he was
arrested by officers. It was the day when he was "laywayed" by Elhannon,
Todd and Dalt, and had killed one, and almost killed the other two. The
sheriff happened to be on Powderhorn, near the mouth of Trigger, at the
time, received the news at once, and reached the Marrs home within an
hour after the occurrence. Blant, not dreaming of so prompt an attempt
at arrest, was sitting before the fire cleaning his forty-five; and
before he knew it, the sheriff stepped between him and his ammunition.
Quiet surrender was the only possible thing. The sheriff and deputy
started with him to the jail here in our village; but, being overtaken
by darkness on the way, were obliged to stop overnight at a wayside
house. Blant went to bed, handcuffed, between the sheriff and deputy,
each of whom retired with a loaded revolver in his hand. In the morning
the prisoner was gone, the blanket that had covered the three swung from
the window, and the two revolvers were found on the ground beneath,
placed neatly side by side.
"Thaint no men or no prison nowhere Blant couldn't git away from if he
was a mind to," said Nucky; "he wouldn't fool around and see his friends
et up like Odysseus."
The character of Odysseus also brought out some family history from
Geordie and Absalom. It appears that their grandfather, Old George
Yonts, was a man noted in several ways, as a hard-shell preacher, as a
wonderful nag-trader, and, like Odysseus, as a man of craft and guile
in wars. Warring factions would come to him for advice; and his
stratagems, when carried out, were brilliantly successful. The boys,
with much pride, told some awful instances. They also said that all of
his thirteen sons were "mean men," their own father having met death at
too early an age to become as distinguished as the other twelve. As I
listened, I marvelled, not that the "born trader's" morality is a little
oblique, but that he has any at all.
_Wednesday._
To-day I saw Philip hold out a handful of chestnuts to Taulbee, his
bosom friend, with the words, "Don't take more'n five,--you're owing me
now. You haint gone treat for allus!" Perfect candor is evidently the
sure, if rocky, foundation of their relationship.
_Saturday Night._
More family history as we were roasting sweet-potatoes in the hot ashes
under our fire to-night. Iry said he could recollect roasting them while
the men made his maw's coffin. "I never knowed no better," he said; "I
weren't but three, and thought she was laying there asleep. I wondered
what them men was a-hammering at outside. When I seed 'em take her off
in it, I knowed."
"She were the best step-maw ever I had," remarked Joab, feelingly.
"How many have you had?" I inquired.
"Oh, paw he's had about five women," he mused. "My maw first, and then
Iry's, and there's three sence. Serildy Byng, his next-to-last, was a
middling civil woman; but she never stayed long. This last one is just
fifteen, and haint got no manners. I have to fight her most every day,
she picks on me'n Iry so. Paw he has a sorry time learning her to
behave."
"I have heared something about your paw being right smart of a mean
man," said Philip.
"Bet he can't hold a candle to Blant," put in Nucky, jealously.
"Maybe he can't, and maybe he can," drawled Joab, provokingly.
"Nobody haint as quick on the trigger as Blant," declared Nucky; "I'll
bet nobody haint kilt and wounded more inside a few months than him, or
would have been in jail more times if the officers could have kotch him
and helt him."
"Jail," murmured Joab, contemptuously, "jail haint nothing! My paw's
spent two year at Frankfort!"
The boys all exclaimed in admiration. "Gee-oh," said Philip, with new
respect, "I never knowed he'd been penitentiaried."
"How many has he kilt?" inquired Nucky, skeptically.
"Oh, no more'n he had to," drawled Joab.
"I heared something about his killing off a few Lusks," said Taulbee.
"Yes, a few," admitted Joab; "Serildy Byng, that next-to-last of his,
she got to talking some to a couple of the Lusks, and paw got wind of
it, and kotch 'em a-hanging around one day. But he never kilt but one
dead; and soon as t'other got able to talk, he sot all the Lusks ag'in
paw,--there was nine on his track, laywaying and ambushing. At last one
day they all rid up behind him over on the head of Rakeshin. He seed a
turn in the road ahead, where there was a big rock. Every time they'd
shoot, he'd jump like he was hit; and just as he got to the rock, he
spraddled out flat on his nag, like he was dead. That was the last they
seed, and they come up a-whooping, thinking they had him kilt. And about
that time six of 'em got bullets in 'em, and three drapped dead; for paw
had clim up on the rock and was a-laying for 'em. Time the rest of the
Lusks got up from their wounds, they allowed paw was a mean enough man
to leave alone."
Nucky was silenced. The impressive pause that followed was at last
broken by Philip. "What did he do to Serildy?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing, but shoot off a piece of her jaw and a little-grain of her
scalp."
Philip meditated again. "I expect that's the reason Serildy left your
paw, haint it? Women's so quare."
"Maybe," replied Joab, indifferently.
Oh, my perfect gentleman!
_Thursday._
Shinny went out and ball came in yesterday. When at noon the boys all
ran to me begging for yarn (of course store balls are an unknown luxury)
and when later I saw Philip, Keats and Hosea ravelling out old socks
they said they had bought from Geordie, Taulbee engaged upon a piece of
the old comforter he had traded off for a pop-gun, and now bought back
at a ruinous price, and heard Killis and Joab bemoaning the fact that
they had traded mittens and socks off for pop-guns, and telling of the
vast sums Geordie was making selling these and like remains to the
"day-schools," I realized that even as far back as pop-gun time the
forelooker was dealing in ball futures, and that his transactions then
were not even as magnanimous as I had supposed them to be.
Saturday and Sunday are the longed-for days of Cousin Emmeline's funeral
occasion, we are to start to-morrow (Friday) afternoon, and the "two
homesicks" are beside themselves with joy.