Aunt Jane of Kentucky

RNA

-fashioned fair. The apostle says we must 'press forward, forgetting the things that are behind,' but ther

reckless plenty, to be given to the neighbors, or to lie in tempting rows on the window-sill of the kitchen and the shelves of the back porch; the second planting of cucumber vines ran in flowery luxuriance over the space allotted to them, and even encroached on the territory of the squashes and melons. Damsons hung purpling over the eaves of the house, and wasps and bees kept up a live

ren look for Christmas. The women and the men, too, was gittin' ready for the fair all the year round, the women piecin' quilts and knittin' socks and weavin' carpets

y, they have the fairs too soon. It never was intended for folks to go to fairs in hot weather, and here they've got to havin' 'em the first week in September, about the hottest, driest, dustiest time of the whole year. Nothin' looks pretty then, and it always makes me think o' folks when they've been wearin' their summer clothes for three months, and everything's all faded and dusty and drabbled. That's the way it generally is in September. But jest

and the other children talkin' with each other about what they'd seen, and Abram drivin' slow over the rough places, and lookin' back every once in a while to see if we was all there. It's a curious thing, honey; I liked fairs as well as anybody, and I reckon I saw a

and Abram. I ricollect Maria Petty come up one day about five o'clock, jest as we was lookin' at the last race, and says she, 'I'm about to drop, Jane; but I believe I'd ruther stay here and sleep on the flo

biscuits, there'd be a mighty small crop of widowers. Sam, you see, was another man that couldn't eat cold bread. But Sam had a right to his hot biscuits; for if Milly didn't feel like goin' into the kitchen, Sam'd go out and mix up his biscuits and bake 'em himself. Sam's soda biscuits was as good as mine; and when it come to beaten biscuits, why nobody co

e only thing they want to call up is the pleasure they've had, the picnics and the weddin's and the tea-parties. But somehow the work I've done in my day is jest as precious to me as the play I've had. I hea

e; and now there's jest one thing I'm afraid of: that I'll live to be too old to work. It appears to me like I could stand anything but that. And if the time ever

nner with us every day o' the fair. Old Judge Grace and Dr. Brigham never failed to eat with us. The old judge'd say something about my salt-risin' bread every time I'd meet him in town. The first year my bread took the premium, Abram sent the premium loaf to him with the blue ribbon tied around it. After Abram died I stopped goin' to the fairs, and I don't know how many years

n'. But, la! the sights I saw that day Henrietta took me to the fair! Every which way you'd look there was some sort of a trap for temptin' boys and leadin' 'em astray. Whisky and beer and all sorts o' gamblin' machines and pool sellin', and little boys no higher'n that smokin' little white cigyars, and offerin' to bet with each other on the races. And I sa

smooth track, and the sun a-shinin' and the flags a-wavin' and the wind blowin' and the folks cheerin' and hollerin'. So, when Henrietta said the races was goin' to begin, I says, says I, 'Here, child, take hold o' my arm and help me down these steps; I'm goin' to see one more race before I die.' And Henrietta helped me down, and we went over to the grand stand and got a good seat where I could see the horses wh

e a laugh at this co

y come to the finish I was laughin' and hollerin' as much as anybod

comes to fine horses and fine whisk

est won the race.' And I turned around to see, and there was a boy about the size o' my youngest grandchild up at Danville. His hat was set on the back of his head, and his hair was co

tucky used to be hard to beat on, and that was fine men. But,' says I, 'betwixt the fine horses and the fine women and the fine whisky, some o' the men has got to be a mighty common lot.' Says I, 'Holler as much as you please for that horse out there; he's worth hollerin' for. But,' s

fe; he's clean-blooded and clean-lived, and he'll live to a good old age; and, maybe, when he dies they'll bury him like a Christian, and put a monument up over him like they did over Ten Broeck. But you, why, you ain't hardly out o'

etty bad lot.' And says he, 'Come on, boys, and let's git out o' this.' And off they went; and whether my preachin' ever did 'em any good I don't know, but I couldn't help sayin' what I did, and

e lives have flowed too long in the channels of stillness and peace. Here was a possibility of adventure not to be lost for any consideration. Aunt J

at the mercy of his steed, a mischievous young hors

country boy in this state was a sort o' half-brother to a horse. But that boy yonder ain't no kin to the filly he's tryin' to ride. There's good blood in that filly as sure

salvation lay in that word. Then, as if just awakened to a sense of duty, the filly ceased her antics, tossed her head with a determined air, and broke into a brisk, clean gallop that would have delighted a skilled rider, but seemed to bring only fresh dismay to the soul of Joe Crofton's boy. His arms flapped dismally and hopelessly up and down; a gust of wind seized his ragged cap and

"I ain't laughed so much in I don't know when. It reminds me o' the time Sam Amos rode in

how Sam rode at the fair that year they had the t'u'nament. I don't know how long it's been since I thought o' th

istening attitude, and without any further solicitatio

e fair, and come back with the whole thing at his tongue's end. Sam heard that they was practisin' for the t'u'nament that evenin', and as he passed the fair grounds on his way home, he made a p'int of goin' in and seein' what they was about. He said there was twelve young men, and they was called knights; and they had a lot o' iron rings hung from the posts of the amp'itheater, and they'd tear around the ring like mad

e lady that he thought the most of; and she come up to the stand, and they put the wreath on her head, and there was twelve pretty gyirls with flowers on their heads, and they was 'Queens of Love and Beauty.' It was a mighty pretty sight, I tell you; and the band was playin' 'Old Kentucky Home,' and everybody was hollerin' and throwin' up their hats. Then the knights galloped around the ring once and went out at the big gate, and come up and promenaded around the amp

in gold for the best gentleman rider. We was waitin' for that to commence, when Uncle Jim Matthews

ncle Jim, but, jest to oblige the man from Simpson, I'll ride. But,' says he, 'I ought to 'a' known it this mornin' so I could 'a' put on my Sunday clothes.' And Uncle Jim says, 'Never mind that; you set your horse straight and carry yourself jest so, and the judges won't look at your clothes.' 'How about the horse?' says Sam. 'Why,' says Uncle Jim, 'there's a dozen or more good-lookin' saddle-horses out yonder outside the big g

pushed his hat down on his head and took a firm seat, and seemed to enjoy it as much as anybody. But after he'd galloped around the ring two or three times, he tried to rein the horse in and get him down to a nice steady trot like the Simpson man was doin'. But, no,

the horse knew he had Sam Amos, one o' the best riders in the c

horse was tearin' around the ring jest as hard as he could go. Sam's hat was off, and I ricollect jest how his hair looked, blowin' back in the wind-Milly hadn't trimmed it for some time-and him gittin' madder and madder every minute. Of course us Goshen folks was mad, too, because Sam didn't git th

e and led him out o' the ring. And Uncle Jim Matthews he jumps up, and says he, 'Let me out o' here. I want to see Sam when he gits off o' that horse.' Milly was settin' on the top seat co

on on you jest as a premium for stickin' on, when you might jest as easy 'a' fell off.' Well, everybody looked for Sam to double up his fist and knock Old Man Bob down, and he might 'a' done it, but Milly saw how things was goin', and she come hurryin' up. Milly was a mighty pretty woman, and always dressed herself neat and trim, but she'd been goin' around with little Sam in her arms, and her hair was fallin' down, and she looked like any woman'd look that'd carried a heavy baby all day and dragged her dress over a dusty floor. She come up, and says she, 'Well, Sam, ain't you goin' to crown me "Queen o' Love and Beauty"?' Folks use

hope of prolonging an o'er-short tale. A

enty years or more, and here I set laughin' about that ride o' his. Somehow or other I've outlived nearly all of 'em. And now when I git to callin' up old times, no matter whe