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(Continued from last week)
CHAPTER V.
The Wedding Night.
T was bright moonlight night. The
mountain-road leading to Grandaddy
Johnson’s home marked a beautiful,
definite line, sometimes lying at the
n
foot of a mountain, then rising over the hills.
The shadows flitted here and there as the rust
ling branches overhead resisted the brisk wind
which swept through them. Occasionally, the
liquid, gurgling tones of the forest and the
lonely whip-poorwill were heard as Charles
Gurdon and Geoffrey Garland rode along chat
ting sociably, on their way to attend the wed
ding of Miss Jennie Johnson and Dick Potts.
Gurdon entered into all the social events of
the neighborhood with the greatest zest, al
though his father disapproved on the ground
that illiterate associations lessened the family
prestige. Garland was also glad to attend the
wedding, not only as a means of diversion, but
to learn something of the social life of the
mountaineers
When the young men arrived, the guests
were gathered, eagerly waiting the coming of
the bridegroom.
The sky was clear and the moon lit the open
space about the house, silvering the wire above
the old mill, which stood a hundred yards be
low the house.
The residence consisted of four rooms with
open hall and front piazza. The two front
rooms and the piazza were crowded with
guests. Around one of the back rooms, where
the bride was waiting, stood several women.
Once in a while a sharp, female voice was
heard above the general murmur, exclaiming:
“Lemme in!” and the door, about which the
chief interest centered, would be open wide
enough to admit one and then quickly closed.
Crowds of healthy, blooming girls stood or
sat in different groups chatting. Countrymen
and boys sat in friendly converse, the major
ity chewing tobacco or smoking clay pipes.
Geoffrey sat-at the end of the piazza talk
ing to one of the guests, when someone touch
ed him on the arm, and, turning, he saw Grand
daddy Johnson.
“Howdy do, Mr. Garlan,’ I told Jeems I
knowed you'd come; an’ I tell you, Jen’s doin’
well. You see Dick’s got money, be grab!
Jen’s gwine on twenty, an she could ’a’ mar
ried afore this, if she had wanted to; but she
waited for the best chance, I ’spec’, ’cause
Dick’s got money—much as a hun’erd dollars,
I reckon, an’ he’s got a right good place. But
it’s time he wuz here,’ he added, looking anx
iously down the road . Then he trotted down
the steps and to the gate, peering over the
road in the direction the groom should come.
Returning, he exclaimed in a somewhat shrill
tone:
“I don’t see nothin’ uv ’im, an’ time’s up,
I tell you!” Then Grandaddy passed through
the crowd moving restlessly from one guest to
another telling of Jen’s good luck in marry
ing a man with money-
Some of the guests were much amused at
Grandaddy’s peculiar actions, and a frequent
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF JAN. 29, 1914.
A GIRL OF THE OZARKS
BY ELIZABETH MONTGOMERY SUMMERS.
giggle or snicker went round the circle of
young people. There are never found anywhere
more critical assemblies than in the rural dis
tricts; any unusual actions are noted, to be
commented on later and often serve as alllu
sions when comparisons are made.
Granddaddy Johnson went again to the front
and looked down the road; then going to
where his daughter-in-law was standing, he
exclaimed:
*
“Be grab, Mattie! Time’s up an’ Dick orter
to be here! Be grab! I don’t believe he’s
cornin’!”
Someone in the yard exclaimed, “Here they
air! ”
The old man bounded out of the doorway;
and before Dick Potts and Reverend Mr. Hun
ter could alight and hitch their horses, he ran
up and snatched the license that was visible
above the grooms coatpocket. Unfolding the
paper he scanned it hurriedly, then refolding
it, handed it to the minister, saying:
“It’s all right, I reckon! ’ca’se it looks lak
mine an’ Sary’s did; but come right in, Dick!
You‘and the pastur, for it’s mighty late, I
tell you, an’ the folks is tired uv waitin’!”
Granddaddy led the way, walking very fast.
When he reached the second doorsteps his foot
caught and he fell. Two men ran to help
him, but in a moment he was up. Taking
young Potts by the arm he led him to the
bride-elect’s room. Pulling him forward, he
cried: “Come on! You air late, I tell you!”
The door opened, and Granddaddy gave the
young man a push that sent him into the mid
dle of the room amid a bevy of attendants.
Turning to the guests that pressed about the
door, he chuckled: “He’s here at last!”
Making his way through the assemblage he
rubbed his hands together in childish glee,
saying: “Dick’s got money, I tell you. Jen
made waitin’ pay!”
A stir near the bride’s room attracted his
attention, and hurrying back, he met the bridal
party at the entrance of the hall. Placing
himself before the bride, he waved his arms
and cried in loud, excited tones:
“Git outen the way! Stan’ back an’ let
’em pass!”
Still gesticulating with head and arms,
Grandaddy walking backward, preceded the
bride and groom, as if not wishing to lose
sight of them for an instant. As the party
formed a line in front of the minister, he took
his stand by him looking attentively at the
bridal pair.
A hush fell upon the scene, save an occasion
al shuffle of the feet, as the ceremony began.
The bridegroom was a tall, lank youth of
twenty-three years, and was dressed in black.
The bride was small and pretty with dark hair
and eyes. Her dress was white, dotted Swiss
muslin, with red sash ribbon, which encircled
her waist and was fastened with a bow, the
ends of the ribbon hanging to the edge of her
skirt- Red beads formed a necklace and rested
on the white, quilled ribbon at her neck. She
as well as the groom, wore white cotton gloves.
The groomsman was heavy set and was at
tired like the groom; while the rather tall
bridesmaid wore blue ribbon and plain, white
lawn.
Granddaddy peered up into the minister’s
face and listened attentively. The ceremony
concluded, he made his way to where Dr. An
drews, the country physician, sat with Geof
frey.
“It’s all done now an’ the knot’s tied hard
an ’ fast! ’ Granddaddy exclaimed, rubbing his
hands, a sparkle in his deep-set eyes. “Jen’s
married at last, an’ she’s done well too, fur
Dicks a good wucker, an’ he’s got money, be
grab! But wuzzen’t that a handsome couple?”
Then peering into Geoffrey’s face, he added:
“Now, you an’ Doc’ make yo’se’ves at home,
’ca’se I mus’ go an’ super-ten’ things. Do you
know what that means?”
“I am sure he does not,” said the doctor
with mock gravity.
“Well, I mean that I’ve got to go an’ order
’em aroun’, an’ see they fix things in a high
falutin’ way; so now you take keer uv your
selves,” and he darted away.
“He is a strange character,” remarked Geof
frey.
“Yes, yes,” returned the doctor in a grave
tone. “His opportunities have been limited.
Persons are ever shaped by environment unless
there is a force within that enables them to
rise. I have just been considering the solemn
ity of that marriage. You heard Potts say, ‘I
do,’ with loud earnestness, while the bride
could scarcely be heard; but mark my words,
that little, timid woman will be longest leal
to her views and she will endure their future
with more fortitude than he.
“Look at Potts,” the doctor continued, his
steel gray eyes glancing at the groom, who sat
near- “You may see that his animal propen
sities dominate; while in Jenny the moral tend
encies would have sway. It will not be a
happy home. Poor Jen! This marriage will
be another addition to the flotsam and jetsam
of our civilization.”
To be Continued.
BEAUTIFUL LETTER FROM ALABAMA.
It is always a sacred pleasure to hear a sor
rowing wife pay a tribute of love to her hus
band who has been called from earth to
Heaven. Surely the consort of years who has
known him best is justified in speaking.
In renewing her subscription to The Golden
Age, Mrs. Chas. P. Johnson, of Collinsville,
Ala., wrote such a beautiful personal letter to
the editor that he felt constrained to ask her
consent to its publication. The consent was
granted—and here is the letter:
“My husband, Chas. P. Johnson, went to
his reward Nov. 21, 1913. Richmond P. Hob
son lost a vote and an ardent supporter; the
Golden Age lost a friend who had been helped
by reading it into a higher, nobler life. The
“bootleggerss” and whiskeyites lost an enemy
who camped on their war path.
The church and every good cause lost a
liberal supported. Thousands of good people
lost a true friend. His wife lost a devoted
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