**** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE **** **** ROTATE ****

Find this Story

Print, a form you can hold

Wireless download to your Amazon Kindle

Look for a summary or analysis of this Story.

Enjoy this? Share it!


Summer Boarders And Others
by [?]

“Well, what became of Miss McCracken?”

“Oh, she went up to her room in September, dressed herself in a long linen duster, did some laundry work, and the next day, with her little shawl-strap, she lit out for the city, where she was engaged to marry a very wealthy old man whose mind had been crowded out by an intellectual tumor, but who had a kind heart and had pestered her to death for years to marry him and inherit his wealth. I afterwards learned that in this matter she had lied.”

“Did you meet any other pleasant people last season?”

“Yes. I met some blooded children from Several Hundred and Fifth street. They come here so’s they could get a breath of country air and wear out their old cloze. Their mother said the poor things wanted to get out of the mawlstrum of meetropolitan life. She said it was awful where they lived. Just one round of gayety all the while. They come down and salted my hens, and then took and turned in and chased a new milch cow eight miles, with two of ’em holdin’ of her by the tail, and another on top of her with a pair of Buffalo Bill spurs and a false face, yelling like a volunteer fire company. Then the old lady kicked because we run short of milk. Said it was great if she couldn’t have milk when she come to the wilderness to live and paid her little old $3 a week just as regular as Saturday night come round.

“These boys picked on mine all summer because my boys was plain little fellers with no underwear, but good impulses and a general desire to lay low and eventually git there, understand. My boys is considerable bleached as regards hair, and freckled as to features, and they are not ready in conversation like a town boy, but they would no more drive a dumb animal through the woods till it was all het up, or take a new milch cow and scare the daylights out of her, and yell at her and pull out her tail, and send her home with her pores all open, than they’d be sent to the legislature without a crime.

“A neighbor of mine that see these boys when they was scarin’ my cow to death said if they’d of been his’n he’d rather foller ’em to their grave than seen ’em do that. That’s putting of it rather strong, but I believe I would myself.

“We had a nice old man that come out here to attend church, he said. He belonged to a big church in town, where it cost him so much that he could hardly look his Maker in the face, he said. Last winter, he told us, they sold the pews at auction, and he had an affection for one, ‘specially ’cause he and his wife had set in it all their lives, and now that she was dead he wanted it, as he wanted the roof that had been over them all their married lives. So he went down when they auctioned ’em off, as it seems they do in those big churches, and the bidding started moderate, but run up till they put a premium on his’n that froze him out, and he had to take a cheap one where he couldn’t hear very well, and it made him sort of bitter. Then in May, he says, the Palestine rash broke out among the preachers in New York, and most of ’em had to go to the Holy Land to get over it, because that is the only thing you can do with the Palestine rash when it gets a hold on a pastor. So he says to me, ‘I come out here mostly to see if I could get any information from the Throne of Grace.’

“He was a rattlin’ fine old feller, and told me a good deal about one thing and another. He said he’d seen it stated in the paper that salvation was free, but in New York he said it was pretty well protected for an old-established industry.