THE BOY THAT WAS SCARET O' DYIN.
fFrom 'At ory-Tell Tib,’ hy Annie Trumbell Sloowin.'i Oi.ce there was a bey that, was dreadful Mia ret o’ dyin'. Scrim folks is that, way, von know ; they ain't never done it. to In ove how it feids, and li-cyTe scare). And Gii- boy s, as- that way. He waT v. ■ rugged. ijifi iiccbii was sort o' slim, ar.c ji:<-i l>c ;bat made him think abom seen lb mgs more. T any rate, he was tcir'hU sear. : G dyin’. ’T '.'a - a. long 'inn- -mo, tins wee-—the lime.- when pouts and errslanes n.nld talk to V, folks could know' what im v wore savin And one -day. as Inns boy, his name we- P.cubeji—l lorgd his oilier name—as Benhen was ret tin under a tree, an cl 1 urn tus. c-ynT, tie neani a little bit of a v< i i i.ot ij ■ alw eon know. Inf.. small and inio and son like — nd he see a posy ialkin. J 1 was one oi them posies ilcT call Bcnianons. wit n three-conm-rfd viiiicv hiowi h.-i arm -ii. mute o' pink on tm-iii. and it talk'd in a kiwi o’ pinkywhite voire, and it save. What you errin' : for. iGoliier, ' ' And !i-- i-ays, "'Gr.use Pm March, o' dyin'" sa vs it': " I'm dreadful :-ca ret, o' dyin W-db whal do you think? That jios-. ]<;■'! ningi d —tii most. cnr’its little- pinky-whhi k”igh t was—and it says, the Beniao o; rays; " flyiiT S.civet o’ dyin"; Why, -hie myself evejy ; ingle i year o' my iii'e.” - I)i■ yourself I" i-ayi ; Ib-nu ii ; “ you’re foolin’ ; vou’rc alive- inis i liiliiule." " Voiiia- I be." says tht B'-h- ---' juirnn ; •• but that's neither here nor tber-. I've dad every year ■;no- J -an Tcmcfi:avr ’ ” Dork n, }■■ t:>; says too boy, " Xo, it dc-nd rays Ihe posy ; "it's real : I no. Vou t-.i-'. yon go. kind o' tired ’ a-iioidiiT your rank r treLdi', and lookin’ real", and wide avwd.e. and tired o the) sun shinin' so hot. and iho winds re o’. T vou to me vs, and im- hires t-akjn v<.ur homy : M, ids nice ifi f-M ! .deep-.- an-l k d o' bang your im-ad down, and set s, .. t and Gei | io. .■■.nd 1 hen hj id ooV-i moppim 0)1'. Than you wake up jest t ties ni-.-r-st tint" o' year, am; . i me up and h-uk round, an«l—why, i like to dm, I do." Bai- someway:. Plat daii.'t ;,rip Bonbon much as you'd tioi.h. ’ 1 ;fT;iA a nosy,'’ lie think to hiim-li. "and uiebln. I wouldn’t eomo ip, U eli, mi other l :m-- he wits sec tin' on a sdeeie- ;u tlm low. ;- pa.-: are. errin' again, and, in- ia-aad :mo!her cijri;- little voice. 'T wa’u't like ‘li-- posy's voice, hut T,vas a. little veooiy. .-oil. fuzzy vccc, and tie rc-i 'twas a cal-erpi'iSar a-t,ulking' to him. Amd the ratr-rpiiiar say,-, in his fuzzy htt.ia voice, lie sriyc . “ Vi ha! you cryi.T for, Keul'"':tiA mi the boy. he , nys, " Prn powerful sea ret. rT dyin', ) lira's why,” ho snvs. .And .•hut. Tizzy . atcrpiHar lie laughed. " J lyin' 1" Ik- : -ay.- ; "I m i<>:i in’ on dyin’ mysoin ,'c my taiiTiy," he says, ' die every om.c rn a k b:l-. iiii-i wiicn iliey wake t-p ;i;,y'ta j-.-t j.-lerslid —got. wing’s ami t!y aiic.it. and live- on iionev and t biugs. Wh\. 1 would;) I mb- it for anything 1 ," he mi vs ; "I'm lot-in' on ii." itnf someno-.v ihi.t didn't rni; k JVnhen up i.’timh. "I ain't, a eatcrjidiar, - ’ ho says, " an-.J riK-bbo J wmddn i wdn- iif. a.t a 11, AVeli, there was lots o' other Things talked, to liiaf. hoy. and tried to help him --tree-, and yosio.-, and cum and c tm.-.vtivcci. things, that wan aUeio a-dvirf and livin’, .arid livin' and. dyin'. KcuiixMi thought, it didn't, help him any, but. I guess it did a Jitile mire, for he couldn't- help tJunkin’ o’ wh.it. they everyone on ’em. said. But he was scare!; all the same. And one summer he begun to tail up .faster and faster, and he got so tired that he coudn't ivia r'-:]y hold his liead up, ami lie was scaiet all )Ik- came .And one da.v lie v.as a-ltiyin’ ;m the bed, and lookin’ out o' the east winder, and the Sim kept a shinin’ in his f-ya.s till he shet ’em up, ami ho fell asleep. Ho had a real good i.ap, and 'when he woke up he went out to take, a walk.
And he begun to think o' what the posies and trees and creatures had said about dyin’, and. how they laughed at his bein’ scaret at it, and he rays to himself, “ Why, sonnevrys 1 don’t feel so scaret to-day, but 1 suppose I be." And jest then, what do you think he done? Why, ho met a. Angel. He’d never seed on< afore, hut he knotted right off. And the Angel .-.ays, ‘‘Ain't you happy, lit'le hoy?” Ar.ci Keiibtn says, “ Well, I would be, only I’m fo dreadful eearet o' dyin’. It must be terr’blo cur’us,” he says, “to be dead.” And the Angel says, “Why, you be dead..’' And he was.
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THE BOY THAT WAS SCARET O' DYIN., Evening Star, Issue 15699, 13 January 1915