Democratic Sentinel, Volume 15, Number 49, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 December 1891 — “ CORN CUTTIN’.” [ARTICLE]

“ CORN CUTTIN’.”

A Character Sketch from the Backwoods of Eastern Kentucky. A few weeks ago 1 was traveling on horseback through Elliot County, Eastern Kentucky, when emerging from a long streteli of unbroken forest, I suddoiily came upon a field of woods and ,; orn at the loft of the road. Riding on is little distance, I observed, sitting on the top rail of the badlv crippled fence, un old man. Ho had u long beard,which ! " ''lid have been white had not a constant ia. tli ot amber kept it' colored a brownish yellow. His nose was long and j humped itself into a high thin position, | separating his small eyes that scorned trying persistently to get togother. Ho ha 1 an old white wool hat that rested its rear section on the oocipital division of his cranium, while tho right side of it sank down and took rest on his fan-like ear. From numerous tnouth-like ronts in nil departments of his old hat, tho bristly hair protruded like tho brushes of a sign painter. 11 in heels rested on the third rail from tho top, thus throwing his knees up to the neighborhood of liisohest. On his knee rested his elbow, and in bis long, bonv palm, hung his chin. Two hounds sat beneath him, und gazed up at their lord end muster with worshipful eyes. “How do you do, old gentleman?” was niv greeting, delivered in a tone of smiling suavity. '.'Do jis' about nz I ploase this ’ero week, stranger.” “Don t you do ns you please all tho time? I returned, laughing. “Not of the ole woman knows herself, aud I rather jedge she do.” “\\ here alionts do you live?” “Oil top o'this fenoo at tho presont writin'.” “Is that your com ovor there?” j “Part uv it iz, ulso a part o' tfio * weeds.” ‘‘Who does tho other part belong to?” “ Char's several other parts.” “\\ ell, who do they belong to?” “Mostly to tin* hogs—eain’t keep tho <bul burn erectors ter wait fer their part till it's gathered.” “I see a lady cutting up corn over there.” “No. ye don't.” “Why, my eyes deceive mo very much if l don't see a lady cutting up corn.” “ W ul, yer eyes docebo ye thin; thur's a gal over tlinr cuttin’ off corn stalks,” “Well, ha, liu! it’s all the same.” “No, tniu't. A lady’s or lady, a gal’s a gal, corn's coin, un‘ corn stalks iz corn stalks.” “ W hat ‘gal’ is it, ns you call her? “ Don t know 'thout she’s mine un' mo old woman's.” “ Who helps her out ? do yon ? ” “Sartinly, 1 hop by my influence. Sail, I keep brug£lne on her, toll her es she keeps improvin’ she'll bo sarolied arter by all the most likely young fellers iu the comity that knows wliut a kind uv gals makes the best wives.” “Oldman, to be serious with you, I think it mighty strange that a young girl should be put out to suoli hard work as that.” “ It do look a loetle strango for most of ’em iz too lazy ter do it. Yo wouldn't expect tor seo or man like me, or true gentleman, at sich work liissof, wudye?” “ Well, 1 don’t think it tho proper tiling for a young girl to be at such work, I'm quite suro.” “ Wol, tliot may be, stranger, but see hur, lookee how it iz; The gal must do it, 'cose it's this or way, struugor; the old woman's down at the house, both legs broke, un' can't git out jist now ter cut it hersef.”—[Epoch.