  It's a mystery to see me—a man o' fifty-four, Who's lived a cross old bachelor fer thirty year and more— A-lookin' glad and smilin'! And they's none o' you can say That you can guess the reason why I feel so good to-day! I must tell you all about it! But I'll have to deviate A little in beginning, so's to set the matter straight As to how it comes to happen that I never took a wife— Kind o' "crawfish" from the Present to the Springtime of my life! I was brought up in the country: Of a family of five— Three brothers and a sister—I'm the only one alive,— Fer they all died little babies; and 'twas one o' Mother's ways, You know, to want a daughter; so she took a girl to raise. The sweetest little thing she was, with rosy cheeks, and fat— We was little chunks o' shavers then about as high as that! But someway we sort o' suited-like! and Mother she'd declare She never laid her eyes on a more lovin' pair Than we was! So we growed up side by side fer thirteen year', And every hour of it she growed to me more dear!— W'y, even Father's dyin', as he did, I do believe Warn't more affectin' to me than it was to see her grieve! I was then a lad o' twenty; and I felt a flash o' pride In thinkin' all depended on me now to pervide Fer Mother and fer Mary; and I went about the place With sleeves rolled up—and working with a mighty smilin' face.— Fer sompin' else was workin'! but not a word I said Of a certain sort o' notion that was runnin' through my head,— "Someday I'd mayby marry, and a brother's love was one Thing—a lover's was another!" was the way the notion run! I remember one't in harvest, when the "cradle-in'" was done— When the harvest of my summers mounted up to twenty-one I was ridin' home with Mary at the closin' o' the day— A-chawin' straws and thinkin', in a lover's lazy way! And Mary's cheeks was burnin' like the sunset down the lane: I noticed she was thinkin', too, and ast her to explain. Well—when she turned and kissed me, with her arms around me—law! I'd a bigger load o' heaven than I had a load o' straw! I don't p'tend to learnin', but I'll tell you what's a fact, They's a mighty truthful sayin' somers in a' almanack— Er somers-—'bout "puore happiness"—- perhaps some folks'll laugh At the idy—"only lastin' jest two seconds and a half."— But it's jest as true as preachin'!—fer that was a sister's kiss, And a sister's lovin' confidence a-tellin' to me this:— "She was happy, bein' promised to the son o' farmer Brown."— And my feelin's struck a pardnership with sunset and went down! I don't know how I acted—I don't know what I said, Fer my heart seemed jest a-turnin' to an ice-cold lump o' lead; And the hosses kindo' glimmered before me in the road. And the lines fell from my fingers—and that was all I knowed— Fer—well, I don't know how long—They's a dim rememberence Of a sound o' snortin' hosses, and a stake-and-ridered fence A-whizzin' past, and wheat-sheaves a-dancin' in the air, And Mary screamin' "Murder!" and a-runnin' up to where I was layin' by the roadside, and the wagon upside down A-leanin' on the gate-post, with the wheels a whirlin' round! And I tried to raise and meet her, but I couldn't, with a vague Sorto' notion comin' to me that I had a broken leg. Well, the women nussed me through it; but many a time I'd sigh As I'd keep a-gittin' better instid o' goin' to die, And wonder what was left me worth livin' fer below, When the girl I loved was married to another, don't you know! And my thoughts was as rebellious as the folks was good and kind When Brown and Mary married—Railly must a-been my mind Was kindo' out o' kilter!—fer I hated Brown, you see, Worse'n pizen—and the feller whittled crutches out fer me— And done a thousand little ac's o' kindness and respect— And me a-wishin' all the time that I could break his neck! My relief was like a mourner's when the funeral is done When they moved to Illinois in the Fall o' Forty-one. Then I went to work in airnest—I had nothin' much in view But to drownd out rickollections—and it kep' me busy, too! But I slowly thrived and prospered, tel Mother used to say She expected yit to see me a wealthy man some day. Then I'd think how little money was, compared to happiness— And who'd be left to use it when I died I couldn't guess! But I've still kep' speculatin' and a-gainin' year by year, Tel I'm payin' half the taxes in the county, mighty near! Well!—A year ago er better, a letter comes to hand Astin' how I'd like to dicker fer some Illinois land— "The feller that had owned it," it went ahead to state, "Had jest deceased, insolvent, leavin' chance to speculate,"— And then it closed by sayin' that I'd "better come and see."— I'd never been West, anyhow—a most too wild fer me I'd allus had a notion; but a lawyer here in town Said I'd find myself mistakened when I come to look around. So I bids good-bye to Mother, and I jumps aboard the train, A-thinkin' what I'd bring her when I come back home again— And ef she'd had an idy what the present was to be, I think it's more'n likely she'd a-went along with me! Cars is awful tejus ridin', fer all they go so fast! But finally they called out my stoppin'-place at last; And that night, at the tavern, I dreamp' I was a train O' cars, and skeered at sompin', runnin' down a country lane!< |
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