Democratic Sentinel, Volume 13, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 September 1889 — HOW THE KNOT WAS TIED [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HOW THE KNOT WAS TIED

BY AD H. GIBSON.

LD Hiram Jordan, a primitive sample of the rough, outspoken frontiersman, was a Justice of the Peace on the Kaw River, in Kansas, in the days prior to the sanguinary struggle that marks such a heart-touch-ing epoch in the history of our country. * 1 This old Justice w r as frequently called upon to tie

the nuptial knot for some very peculiar backwoods couples. One afternoon Hiram was sitting in the door of his dingy, time-hlistered cabin, perched upon a bluff overlooking the blue waters of the Kaw. The old fellow was contentedly smoking away at an old clay pipe, strongly enough impregnated with “long green” to scare off a hungry buzzard from a tanyard. The old Justice was bare-footed, and liis well-worn, coarse, blue jeans trousers was rolled pretty well up to tire knees, disclosing unlovely, sinewy ankles. Ho was coatless and suspenderless, for it was warm weather, and Hiram wore neither in the summer time. His shirt was of the thinner quality of bed-ticking stuff, and made after some nondescript style unknown east of the Missouri River. He was bare-headed, and the recreant breezes that blew up the Kaw Talley ruffled the thin, long locks of reddish hair on his fat, sleek pate and played hide and seek among the sandy bristles of his stumpy beard. Old Hiram was a bachelor, and save the old hound stretched in profound slumber at his feet, he had no companion. But he was well used to his isolation from society, aud if he ever veared for a companion of the opposite se.v, he kept his wish jealously locked in his own heart. Perhaps the ceremonies that he performed for his Kaw Talley neighbors were sufficient for him, and diverted his thoughts from himself in a state of connubialism. It is proverbial of a carpenter that he never attends to his own house, and it may be that a man -whose business it is to marry others never devotes his thoughts to his own marriage. But be that as it may, old Hiram was a single man on the shady side of fifty.

The Justice puffed away at his short-stemmed pipe, and gazed with evident complacence down the picturesque valley through which the Ivaw wound its placid way. Suddenly his contemplation of Nature’s superb painting before him is disturbed. An odd-looking young couple on horseback have ridden up the bluff and approached the cabin of the Justice. The girl bestrode a bob-tailed white mule, with one ear having a triangular slit in it; for a saddle, she sat on a piece of faded rag carpet, strapped loosely round the animal’s body, to allow the insertion of one foot to support herself, while the other she employed to goad the beast along by applying sundry spirited kicks with the heel of a No. 7 cowhide shoe. She was about nineteen years old, large and long. She wore a green calico dress, an apron of coarse, striped shirting, and a pink sun-bonnet that might have belonged to a baby sister, so small it was for her. The bonnet only half concealed the big nose and coarse features, strewn with freckles of every geometric pattern known to science, and many to be yet heard of. Her faded bronze hair straggled from under the cape of her bonnet, and dangled far down her stooped shoulders, a prey to the rude zephyrs that swept up the perfumeladen valley. About a yard of darkblue ribbon, of sash width, was awkwardly knotted around her thin neck, and was fastened to her emerald gown in front by a red and blue glass brooch as large as a silver dollar. Of all other ornaments her odd costume w r as guiltless. She was gloveless, and her hands were almost as large and coarse as those of the Justice.

The companion of this very attractive maiden Avas a littly, dumpy man of about thirty. He Avas black-eyed, hair like a full-groAvn aurora borealis, and his little fat jaAvs Avere clothed Avith a stubby beard that pointed obdurately in every knoAvn direction of the compass. He Avore an antiquated straAV hat, yellow Avith age and woe-

fully fly-specked. His person was clad in a coarse brown home-spun, that looked as if it had done service as wearing apparel for a year at least. He rode a miserable raw-boned Texas pony, its sides one mass of disfiguring

brands, the symbols of former and various ownerships. “Howdy!” was Hiram’s greeting. “Howdy!” returned the dumpy speicmen of manhood on the sad-eyed broncho. “Be vou’uns ther ole man what hitches fellers ter thar gals ?” Old Hiram laughed jovially. The girl twitched nervously. The dumpy man grinned broadly. * “I be ther man ve’r lookin’ fur, stranger,” old Hiram replied, rising; “I reckon I be, es it’s hitcliin’ ter run in double harness fur ther rest o’ yer natural lives that you’uns be after.” The dumpy fellow stole a sheepish look at the lady in green on the bobtailed mule, and said: “Thet’s hit, ’Squire. We’uns hev jest swum ther Kaw ter git you’uns ter do ther hitcliinV’

The Justice eyed for a minute the wet sides of the animals, which fully corroborated the fellow’s assertion that they had swum the Kaw to get there. “Waal, light, then,” he commanded them, pleasantly, “an’ tote yer critters ter yon cottonwoods, an’ mosey inter ther cabin.” Then, leaving them to obey his directions, old Hiram entered his house and made all necessary arrangements for his guests front across the Kaw. Finally they were all seated in the cabin, and the old Justice proceeded to make himself acquainted with the would-be groom. “Whar do you’uns hold fo’th ercross ther Kaw, stranger?” old Hiram asked. “I ’low you’uns hev hearn tell o’ Slacker’s P’int V” “Oh, yes; used ter go ter see a widder down thar.” And the Justice laughed at the recollection thus awakened. He was bent on making himself facetious before his guests. “Thet war six year ago an’ better.” “I low now, es hit warn’t Sally Jane Helamacky,” said the girl, with a coarse giggle. “It Avar Sally Jane Helamacky,” anSAvered the Justice, smiling. “So ver live on ther P’int, stranger?” he asked, turning again to the man. “Waal, dad, he lives thar, an’ I live thar Avith ’im,” the dumpy specimen replied. “What mouglit yer name be?” “Sid Johnsing.” “By gum! I ’loav you’uns be no ’lation to 010 Murray Johnsing, as used to run a still down in ole Kaintuek ? Pow’ful man, all-fired, low-down, ornery cuss ole Murray was,” said the Justice, his characteristic outspokenness coming to the surface. “I be ole Murray’s oldest boy, ’Squire,” said the felloAv, Avith a broad

grin, while a harsh giggle came from beneath the tiny pink sunbonnet. “I be blowed! 1 w ouldn’t a-thought it! Wa-al, look a-here, young gal; sech bein’ the case, as this here Sid you be thinkin’ o’ liitchin’ up ter be a chip offen ther ole block, ve’d better mount yer bobtail critter an’ ride home unhitched furever, nur marry alongside sech a durned fammerly as ole Murray Johnsing’s.” A loud guffaw from the man greeted the Justice’s advice. Evidently such a warning gave him no uneasiness, and, strange to relate, provoked no anger. “Wot be yer name, gal?” old Hiram now' asked, turning to the green-clad creature before him. “My name be Mirandy Ann Smith, an’ I ’low I knows wot’s wot erbout Sid Joknsing. He’s a heap ther best man on the P’int.” And she tossed her head rather indignantly. “Yer be no kin, I Tow, ter ole Lute Smith, wot was so miserable low-down as ter steal Widder Grats’ hog, over t’other side o’ Turtle Bottom ?” “Waal, now, ’Squire, I jest Tow I be. I be his darter by his third wife.” And she snapped her pale eyes upon him most triumphantly. “Waal,'l be plumb dog-gone!” exclaimed the .Justice. “But it’s a mighty blessed freak o’ fate fur you’uns ter want ter hitch, fur it’d be a plumb shame fur ter spile two fammerlieS with sech as you’uns. Hop yer up, Sid an’ Mirandy Ann, an’ les have ther thing over. I hain’t goin’ ter send yer back ter ther P’int onhappy.” The awkward but strangely wellmated couple (according to old Hiram’s belief) stood up as bidden, and the questions were given and answered, after which the Justice closed with his usual characteristic statement: “In ther name o’ ther Lo’d A’mighty, I purnounce you’uns man an’ woman.”

Hiflier — You have plenty of money; why don’t you buy a private drag like mine, and we can make uj) lots of pleasant parties together V Slogo—You forget that I have a private drag, already. Hiflier —That’s so? I never saw it. Slow go—No; I refer to my wiie’s family.

OLD HIRAM AND HIS SOLITARY COMPANION.

“I PRONOUNCE YOU UNS MAN AND WOMAN”