The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain, and Other StoriesCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain, and Other Stories
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Waal, the comic war a-cuttin' a pretty showy figger down yander at
Colbury. 'Ston-ishin' how much store folks do 'pear ter set on it!
They hed rigged up some sort'n peepin'-glass in the Court-House yard,
an' thar war mighty nigh the whole town a-squinchin' up one eye ter
examinate the consarn through it--all the court off'cers,
'torney-gin'ral, an' sech, an' old Doctor Kane an' Jedge Peters,
besides a whole passel o' ginerality folks. They 'lowed the glass made
it 'pear bigger."
"Did it?" she asked, with sudden interest.
"Bless yer soul, chile, _I_ didn't hev time ter waste on it. Jedge
Peters he beckoned ter me, an' 'lowed he'd interjuce me ter it; but I
'lowed the comic outside war plenty big enough fur me. 'Jedge,' I
says, 'my mission hyar air ter make onnecessary things seem _small_,
not magnified. That's why I'm continually belittlin' Rolf Quigley. Wat
kin go on lookin' cross-eyed at the stars, ef so minded, but I be
bound ter tend ter the 'lection.' An' the jedge laffed and says:
'Justus, nex' time I want ter git 'lected ter office, I'm goin' ter
git _ye_ ter boost me in. Ye hev got it a sight mo' at heart than yer
brother.' Fur thar war Wat, all twisted up at the small e-end o' the
tellingscope, purtendin' ter be on mighty close terms with the comic,
though lots o' other men said it jes' dazed thar eyes, an' they
couldn't see _nuthin'_ through it, an' mighty leetle arterward through
sightin' so long one-eyed."
"Waal, how's the prospects fur the 'lection?" she asked.
"Fine! Fine!" he answered with gusto. "Folks all be so frien'ly
everywhar ter we-uns."
He leaned his shoulder suddenly back against the rough rails of the
fence. His hat was in his hand. His hair, fine, thin, chestnut-brown,
and closely clinging about his narrow head, was thrown back from his
forehead. His clear blue eyes were turned upward, with the light of
reminiscence slowly dawning in them. It may have been the reflection
of the dazzling flake of cloud, it may have been some mental
illumination, but a sort of radiance was breaking over the keen,
irregular lines of his features, and a flush other than the floridity
of a naturally fair complexion was upon his thin cheek and hollow
temple.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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