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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 17, 1897)
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UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA.
LINCOLN, NEBRASKA, DECEMBER 17, 1807
Wlien. tlic World TurnH West.
Some day, when the world turns west,
There'll be laughter and no tears;
There'll be hopes too without fears.
Then my heart, brave out the rest,
The joy-crowned, grief-drowned years.
For will not life be blest
Some day. when the world turns west?
Edwin F. Piphu.
An autumn sun was slowly dropping be
hind old Bald Knob. The last faint gleam
struggled through the smoky haze and re
flected a dull red on the window of the little
log cabin. It was hardly a window -just a
small grimy pane in the top of the old time
stained door. There was no yard and the
great oaks stood like sentinels, stretching
their bare limbs out over the dilapidated
roof. The leaves, brown and dry, formed a
thick mat everj-where except on the sides of
the old mountain.
Old Granny Mainard wheezed and groaned.
She nad always wheezed and groaned that
is, since anyone liad known of her and her
hut under old Bald Knob. "-Reckon I'm
eighty today," she mused, as she shuffled
slowly about in the bare little room. "Landy
sakes, how time do fly, 'pears like yistorday
when John died poor John nigh onter
forty year. The good Lord'll be a takin mo
'fore long. Can't hole out much longer, that's
sartin. Drap off some night all 'lone. Every
bone in this pore ol' body jis achin' like mad
ugh!" and she wheezed and groaned again.
She tried to place a time-browned teacup in
the dilapidated cupboard. Her hand shook
like a leaf and the cup broke into pieces on
the floor. "That makes two today, I reckon.
Won't need 'em much longer, howsomover."
She 'picked up a dirty old pail from beside
the fireplace, opened the creaky door, and
hobbled out under the trees. The smoke bad
settled down until the woods looked dark and
ominous. Her poor old eyes did not notice
it though. "Reckon them pigs air mighty
nigh starved, way they squeal. Landy sakes,
that bucket's goin' ter break my back." She
sot the pail down in the leaves, placed her
hands to her back and wheezed and groaned.
The pigs stuck their noses into the air and
squealed, but they would not eat.. They did
not seem to notice Granny as she patted their
sleek little heads with her skinny old hand,
your' a actin' mighty qnaro, jis .a squealin'
an' a squealin, an' won't eat a bit fer Granny.
What's the matter with ycr? Ye pesky little
brats, if ycr knowed how it hurts pore old
Granny's back ter be a bringin' yer slop,
you'd be eatin', 1 reckon, an stop yer noise.
Maybe its acorns yer a-hankerin' arter. I'll
jis let yer out, an then I reckon yer kin pick
fer yerselvcs." She tugged and groaned un
til one of the rails of the pen slipped out of
the corner, and then watched the pigs as they
scrambled thro ugl i the leaves and up the bare
side of old Bald Knob.
A peculiar darkness hung over the wcod
and the mountain. Granny sat in her only
chair, a broken rocker, and watched the blaz
ing sticks in the old fireplace. The dry pieces
of limbs snapped and cracked. -'Wonder
what on airth ailed them pigs tonight," she
murmered to herself. -'That ere pen must be
gittin' too narror fer 'em. Yes, I've seen the
time when this ere shanty wouldn't nigh hole
me either. No starch loft in these ole bones
now, ugh. I'm a wheezin' ng'in; reckon I'll
hev to smoke." She filled her old clay pipe,
picked a coal from the edge of the hearth with
her calloused fingers and placed it on the 1o
bacco. She smoked slowly for a long "while,
with her chin on her hand, gazing into the fire.
After a while she knocked the ashes from the
pipe and laid it at the edge of the hearth,
wont to the cupboard and took down a book,
an old leather bound book with yellow time
worn leaves. She pulled the little old table
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