Armazindy Page #3

								

  And lace collar;—yes, and fine
  Stylish hat, with ivy-vine
  And red ribbons, and these-’ere
  Artificial flowers and queer
  Little beads and spangles, and
  Oysturch-feathers round the band!
  Wore ’em, Sund’ys, fer a while—
  Kindo’ went to Church in style,
  Sol and Armazindy!—Tel
  It was noised round purty well
  They wuz promised.—And they wuz—
  Sich news travels—well it does!—
  Pity ’at that did!—Fer jes
  That-air fac’ and nothin’ less
  Must ’a’ putt it in the mind
  O’ Jule Reddinhouse to find
  Out some dratted way to hatch
  Out some plan to break the match—
  ’Cause she done it!—How? they’s none
  Knows adzac’ly what she done;
  Some claims she writ letters to
  Sol’s folks, up nigh Pleasant View
  Somers—and described, you see,
  “Armazindy’s fambily”—
  Hintin’ “ef Sol married her,
  He’d jes be pervidin’ fer
  Them-air twins o’ hern, and old
  Palsied aunt ’at couldn’t hold
  Spoon to mouth, and layin’ near
  Bedrid’ on to eighteen year’,
  And still likely, ’pearantly,
  To live out the century!”
  Well—whatever plan Jule laid
  Out to reach the p’int she made,
  It wuz desper’t.—And she won,
  Finully, by marryun
  Sol herse’f—e-lopin’, too,
  With him, like she had to do,—
  ’Cause her folks ’ud allus swore
  “Jule should never marry pore!”

  This-here part the story I
  Allus haf to hurry by,—
  Way ’at Armazindy jes
  Drapped back in her linsey dress,
  And grabbed holt her loom, and shet
  Her jaws square.—And ef she fret
  Any ’bout it—never ’peared
  Sign ’at neighbers seed er heerd;—
  Most folks liked her all the more—
  I know I did—certain-shore!—
  (’Course I’d knowed her Pap, and what
  Stock she come of.—Yes, and thought,
  And think yit, no man on earth
  ’S worth as much as that girl’s worth!)

  As fer Jule and Sol, they had
  Their sheer!—less o’ good than bad!—
  Her folks let her go.—They said,
  “Spite o’ them she’d made her bed
  And must sleep in it!”—But she,
  ’Peared-like, didn’t sleep so free
  As she ust to—ner so late,
  Ner so fine, I’m here to state!—
  Sol wuz pore, of course, and she
  Wuzn’t ust to poverty—
  Ner she didn’t ’pear to jes
  ’Filiate with lonesomeness,—
  ’Cause Sol he wuz off and out
  With his th’asher nigh about
  Half the time; er, season done,
  He’d be off mi-anderun
  Round the country, here and there,
  Swoppin’ hosses. Well, that-air
  Kind o’ livin’ didn’t suit
  Jule a bit!—and then, to boot,
  She had now the keer o’ two
  Her own childern—and to do
  Her own work and cookin’—yes,
  And sometimes fer hands, I guess,
  Well as fambily of her own.—
  Cut her pride clean to the bone!
  So how could the whole thing end?—
  She set down, one night, and penned
  A short note, like—’at she sewed
  On the childern’s blanket—blowed
  Out the candle—pulled the door
  To close after her—and, shore-
  Footed as a cat is, clumb
  In a rigg there and left home,
  With a man a-drivin’ who
  “Loved her ever fond and true,”
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