Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 36, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 May 1886 — Down on High Steppers. [ARTICLE]

Down on High Steppers.

"I think I would like thia country," said a traveler out West, who had stopped at a larm-house for dinner. “I reckon morn*n likfo you would," said the man of the "house, as lie passed the hominy. “It’s a powerful line country, and if a man hain’t lazy or too bullheaded to learn the ways wjth us, he’s bound to git along middlin’ fair." ' "The great attraction to me,” said ,the stranger, “ik the sociability and lack of ceremony I find among yon.” “Yes, there is right smart of that, for a fact,” replied the farmer; “ Ttpeflhly in corn-shellin’ time." “From what I have seen I should say the shams of society are almost unknown here” “I don’t s’pose you could find one with a gun,” said the father of the family, wiping his mouth ,on his shirt-sleeve. “We’ve-been here about ten year now, and I never saw none myself, as I mind of, though the Griblw l>oys did scare up somethin’ in the holler last fall that they couldn’t just make out, but it got away—um?” “i find a refreshing simplicity of manner among the people that iB never observed in the older States.” “I reckon it’H on account of the wind; but la, you don’t mind it after you git used to it a bit. It used to bother me, too, like all burdock, but I never mind it no more, and I don’t believe you would after you’d been here a apelL _ “I never found such freedom from restraint anywhere as I’ve seen here, and I tell you I like it.” “Two wires is enovgh, if they’re well stretched, and the posts hain’t too fur apart. ” “If a man wants to go to church in shirt sleeves, and feels more comfortaide in doing it, there’s no good reason why he shouldn’t.” “Well, I-should ruther hope not.” “But you couldn’t make them think so back with us. ” “Well, I’ll be gilswithered.” “Appearance counts for everything there, and a body might as well be out of the world as out of fashion.” “Torment my gizzard.” “But with you it’s different. ” “You’re crowiu’ for clear weather now.” _! __i , .— — * “Nobody puts on airs or tries to carry their heads higher than their neighbors here." “Hold <?n there, mister,” interrupted the farmer’s wife, as she boxed a youngster’s ears for upsetting the gravy. “You hain’t saw them Stibbinses yit, or T reckon more’n like you’d think different. Don’t you say so, daddy ?” “You’re scratchin’ in the right hill this time, old woman.” “Indeed!” said the stranger, not knowing what else to say. “Well, if they hain’t a domineerin’ set there never was one.” “In what way, my good woman?” “Why, for flammin’ on and steppin’ high.” “Stepping high?” “Yes, and rearin’ back, too. ” “Are they newcomers?” “La sakes, no; they’ve been here longer’n pusley, and they’re purtv nigh as pizen. Why, one o’ the gals has even got a store bunnit!" “You don’t tell me!” “Don’t I? Well, I jest do, and I tell you they’re a mighty big feelin’ set, the hull raft of’em. They’ve act’ally got books in their house with gilt aidges on to ’em, and one of the boys kun play printed tunes on the fiddle. If vou don’t call that walkin’ stiff-legged, what is it?” “Then you think they’re somewhat aristocratic ?” “They’re a creation sight wuss. ” “How 80?" “Why, stranger, they’re as proud as a pimple, and you can’t make nothin’ else out of it, though they hain’t got such an awful sight to throw their hats at nuttier. They’ve only got one rag carpet and not near as much tinware as me, and yit they never let pa ; e of their gals go barefooted after they git to wearin’ long dresses, and you don’t see the old woman ridin’ in the two hoss wagon more than two or three times a year. My man’s got a white shirt that I made myself, and we’ve got more thun SSO a-drawin’ interest, buts l don’t see’z that’s any reason why I should climb on to the shed to swing my bunnit, or news it all over the neighborhood whenever we have apple sass for dinner, and I don’t mix much with them as does. I don't see no SeOSSiU bein’ stuck up jest because a body kun talk like readin’. Won’t you have a little more o’ the sop, stranger? Butter is sort o’ skeerce with us.” —Chicago Ledger.