Newspaper Page Text
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PAGE TWO
AMERICUS TIMES-RECORDER. '*
W^
THURSDAY, JANUARY 30, 1J1J.
Tfie Light
in the
Clearing
A Tale of the North
Country in the Time
Of Silas Wright
By
IRVING BACHELLER
Author of **Bb«n Holden.'* "D'rl nod
_ I," barrel of the Blenecd lelen"
•Ketplr.c Up With Llnie." Etc. Eta.
VVVVUl I
(Copyright, 1917, Irrlng Oochetlcr)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Barton Paynes, orphan,
hi taken to live with his undo, Peabody
Paynes, and his Aunt Deel on a farm or
Rattleroad In a neighborhood called I.lck
ttyepllt about the year 1976. Barton meets
Bally llunkelberg, about his own age, but
Socially of a class above the Hayneses,
and te fascinated by the pretty face
and fine clothes.
CHAPTER V—When Barton Is twelve
rears old ho becomes aware of the ox-
letenco of a wonderful and mysterious
power known ns "Money," and learns
now, through his possession of that won
derful thing Grlmshaw Is tho most power-
debt After a visit to the Baynes home
Mr. Wright leaves a note In a scaled en
velope. which Barton Is to read on the
wst night when he leaves home to at-
asked
CHAPTER VI—Barton .„ „
Crlvo a load to mill, arrives safely, but
In a snowstorm, unable to see the road,
tha horses get Into the ditch and a
wheel of the wagon Is broken. Uncle
Peabody manages to get together
enough to saUsfy Grlmshaw and obtain
An extension.
CHAPTER Vn-Now In his sixteenth
E r Barton accompanies "Mr. Purvla,"
hired man, to the postotflee at Can
on the way they meet a rider, and
the. three journey together. They are
held up by a man with a gun, who makes
the highwayman's demand of "Your
money or your life." Purvla runs away,
E a the stranger draws a pistol, but be-
he can uae It the robber ehoots and
him. Barton's horse throws him
and ntns away. Aa the murderer bends
over the stranger Barton throws a atone
which he observes wounds tho thief, who
makes off at once, but not until Barton
had noted that hla gun stock was broken
a in a peculiar manner. Search of tha
rhoorhood for the robber Is unavailing
I the stranger la burled.
CJTAPTTCR VIII—Barton leaves home to
attend Michael Hacket'e school. Amos
Grlmshaw Is arrested charged with the
murder of the stranger.
.CHAPTER IX—Grlmshaw
bribe Barton to be silent about hla
wounding the murderer ot the man killed
wounoing tne murderer ot the man I
on the road. The offer la spurned.
CHAPTER X.
A Party and—My Fourth PerllT
It was a rainy Sunday. In the
middle of the afternoon Uncle Pea
body and I bad set oat In onr spring
buggy with the family umbrella—a
faded but sacred Implemeat, always
carefully dried, after using, and bang
In the clothes press. We were drenched
to the skin in spite of the umbrella.
It was still raining when we arrived
at the familiar door In Ashery lane.
Uncle Peabody wouldn't stop.
He hurried away. We pioneers rare
ly stopped or even turned oat for the
wcnthcr.
“Come In,” said the voice of the
schoolmaster at the door. “There’s
.good weather under this roof.”
He saw my plight as I entered.
“I’m like a shaggy dog that's been
In swimming,” I sntd.
“Upon my word, ooy, we’re In luck,'
remarked the sehoolmaster.
I looked up at him.
“Michael Henry's clothes I—sure,
they're Just the thing for yon!”
I followed him upstairs, wondering
how It hud happened that Michael
Henry had clothes.
He took me Into his room and
brought some handsome, soft clothes
out of a press with sldrt, socks and
boots to match.
GEORGIA MAN
HAD QUITE A SIEGE
111 Hospital, But ImprcTEd Greatlj After
Taking Zlron Iron Tonic.
“There, my laddie buck,” said hft
“put them on.”
j “These will soon dry on me,”" I said.
! “Put them on—ye laggard I Michael
Henry told me to give them to yon.
It’s the birthday night o' little Ruth,
my boy. There's a big cake with can
dles and chicken pie and Jellied cook
ies and all the like o’ that. Put them
on. A wet boy at the feast would
dampen the whole proceedings.”
I put them on ond with a great
sense of relief and comfort. They
were an admirable fit—too perfect for
an accident, although at tho time 1
thought only of their grandeur ns I
stood surveying myself In the looking-
glass. They were of blue cloth and I
saw tliut they went well with my
blond hair and light skin. I was put
ting on my collar and necktie when
Mr. Hucket returned.
We went below and the table wn9
very grand with Its great frosted cake
ond Its candles. In shiny brass sticks,
and Its Jellies and preserves with the
gleam of polished pewter among them.
Mrs. Racket and ull the children, snvo
Ituth, were Wultlng for us In the din
ing room.
"Now sit down here, nil o’ ye, with
Michael Henry,” said the schoolmns-
“The little lady will he Impatient.
I’ll go nnd get her and God help us to
make her remember the day.”
He was gone n moment, only, when
1 came hack with Ituth In lovely
while dress and slippers nnd gny with
rlhhons, and the silver beads of Mary
on her neck. We clapped our hands
nnd cheered nnd. In the excitement of
the moment, John tipped over his
drinking glass and shuttered It on
on three aides of the field and a road [ of the barn floor, where I had left It,
on the other. I kept laying down
beds of wheat on the barn floor and
beating them out with the flail until
the sun was well over the roof, when
I sat down to eat my luncheon. Then
I swept up the grain and winnowed
ont the chaff nnd filled one of my
sacks. That done, I covered the floor
again and the thump of the flail eased
my loneliness until In the middle of
the afternoon two of my schoolmates
came and asked me to go swimming
with them. The river was not forty
rods away and a good trail led to the
swimming hole. It was a warm, bright
day and I was hot nnd thirsty. The
thought of cool waters nnd friendly
eompnnlonshlp was too much for me.
I went with them nnd stayed with
them longer than I Intended. I re
member saying a3 I dressed- that I
should hnve to work late and go with
out my supper In order to finish my
stint
It was almost dark when I was pat
ting the last sack of wheat Into my
cart in the gloomy barn and getting
ready lo go.
A rustling In the straw where 1
stood stopped me suddenly. I heard
stealthy footsteps In the darkness. I
stood my ground and demanded:
“Who's there?”
bnt old Kate had gone. We closed
the bara, drawing the cart along with
us. When we came Into the edge of
the village I began to reflect upon the
strange peril out of which I had so
luckily escaped. It gave me a heavy
sense of responsibility and of the
wickedness of men.
I thought of old Kate and her broken
silence. For once I had heard her
speak. I could feel my flesh tingle
when I thought of-her quick words
nnd her hoarse, passionate whisper.
I knew, or thought I knew, why she
took such core of me. She was In
league with the gallows and could not
bear to sec It cheated of Its prey. For
some reason she hated the ^rlmshaws.
I had seen the hate In her eyes tho
day she dogged along behind the old
money lender through the streets of
the village when her pointing finger
had seemed to sny to me: “There,
there Is the man who tins brought me
to this, nc hns put these rags upon
my hack, Hits Are In my heart, this
wild look In my eyes. Walt and you
will see what I will put upon him.”
I knew that old Kate was not the
Irresponsible, witless creature that
people thought her to be. I had begun
te think of her with a kind of awe as
one gifted above nil others. One by
the floor.
“Never mind, my brave lqd—no glass
ever perished in a better cause. God
bless yon I”
We nte nnd Jested nnd talked, and
I saw n form approaching In the one the things she had said of the
gloom with feet ns noiseless ns a cat s. future seemed to he coming true.
I took n step backward and, seeing As we were , |nto thc house tho
thnt It was a woman, stopped. j schoolmaster said:
“It’s Kate," came In a hoarse whls- „ Now M , nke th|s Inntorn
per ns I recognized her form and staff on(| go ncross , he strect the houge
• Run, boy-they have Just come on Deacon IJ|nb thc C0MtabIe . you'll
o the woods. I saw them. They will flnd hlm ng|eep 1(y tbe kItcben gtove .
, llU \ a . Arrest his slumbers, but not rudely,
She had picked up the flail, and now and whon be bag cnme t te „ hlm
she put It In my hands and gave me tbnt , havc news the dev „...
a push toward the door. I ran, and . , . , . _ „
none too quickly, for I had not gone wl ^“ c0 ". Bl “ k “ “ rr ^' “ “““
fifty feet from the barn In the stubble w ! th a . bg ' round ll)dy andn vory
_ T . . .. wise and serious countenance between
when I heard them coming after me. g|dc nh|g|terg bcadlag fronl hlg tcIDple
the courtroom I saw him walking the door. Shep barked and leaned to
Blnnrlv vnUk T trait ennn • • * vw
slowly, with bent head as I bad seen
him before, followed by old Kate. She
carried her staff In her left hand While
tbe forefinger of her right hand was
pointing him ont. Silent as a ghost
and as unheeded—one would say—she
followed hla steps,
I observed that old Kate sat on a
front seat with her band to her ear
and Grimshaw beside his lawyer at a
my shoulders.
“Why, Bart! You’re growln’ like a
weed—ain't ye?—ayes ye be,” my
mint said as she stood and looked at
me. “Set right down here an’ warm
y e ayes I—I’ve done all the chores—
ayes I”
How warm and comfortable was the
dear old room with those beloved faces
In It I wonder If paradise Itself can
big table and that when she looked at seem more pleasant to me. I have had
him her lips moved In a strange un-1 the beat food this world can provide,
ottered whisper of her spirit Her, In my time, but never anything that
face filled with joy as one damning: I ate with a keener relish than the
detail after another came ont In tbe i pudding and milk and bread and
evidence.
The facts hereinbefore alleged, and
others, were proved, for the tracks fit
ted the shoes of Amos. The young! my aunt while Uncle Peabody went
ter and cheese and pumpkin pie wSfcM
Aunt Deel gave us that night
Supper over. I wiped the dishes for fl
y aunt while Uncle Peabody went V
man was held and presently Indicted, j out to feed and wuter the horses. Then
The time of his trial was not deter-! we sat down In the genial warmth
mined. | while I told the story of my life In
I wrote a good hand those days and
thp leading merchant of tho village
engaged me to post his books every
Saturday at ten cents an honr. Thcnce-
“the busy town,” as they called It
What pride and attention they gave
tne then I
My fine clothes nnd the story of how
forward until Christmas I gnve my 1 had come by them taxed my Inge-
free days to thnt task. I estimated 1 nult y somewhat, although not improp-
the sum thnt I should earn nnd er| y- I had to be careful not to let
planned to divide It In equal parts nnd them know thut I had been ashamed
proudly present It to my aunt and ot the homemade suit. They somehow
ancle on Christmas day. f,,|t the truth “bout *t “ nd “ little
One Saturday while I was at work Then AU "!
on the big ledger of the merchant I ? ee ‘ drcw he , r , ch,,lr P ear ™ c and
f.. .? touched my hair very gently and
* l ° ‘ looked lrfto my face without speaking.
October 3.—S. Wright—To one salt “Ayes I I know,” she said preseotly,
measures 8 | “ kl “ d pressing tone with a
Bhirts to match L70 uscd to coarse homespun stuff down
I knew then thc history of the suit there In the village. They made fun
the sound of our laughter drowned j " boev " “ ey to his neck and suggesting parentheses
the cry of the wind lo the chimney were gaining and turned quickly. I of hn|r ns , f Wg head nnd „ g ncc(lg .
and the drumming of the rain upon
the windows.
Next morning my clothes, which bad
been hung by the kitchen stove, were
damp and wrinkled. Mr. Hacket came
to my room before I had risen.
'Michael Henry would rather see
his clothes hanging on a good boy
than on a nail In the closet," said he.
'Sure they give no comfort to the
nail at all.”
'I guess mine are dry now,” I an
swered.
“They're wet nnd heavy, boy. No
son o’ Baldnr could keep a light heart
In them. Sure ye'd be as much out
o’ place as a sunbeam In a cave o’
bats. If ye care not for yonr own
comfort think o' the poor lad in tho
green chair. He’s that prond and
pleased to see them on ye It would be
a shame to reject his offer. Sore, If
they wore dry yer own garments
would be good enough, God knows,
but Michael Henry loves .the look o"
yo In these togs, and then the presi
dent Is In town.”
That evening he discovered a big
■tain, black aa Ink, on my coat and
tronsers. Mr. Hacket expressed the
opinion that It might have come from
the umbrella, bat I am qnlte sure that
be had spotted them to save me from
the last homemade suit I ever wore,
save In rough work, and keep Michael
Henry’s Sn my back. In any event I
wore them no more save at chore time.
Sally came and went, with the Wills
boy, nnd gave no heed to me. In her
eyes I had no more substance than
a ghoit, It seemed to me, although I
enught her, often, looking at me. I
Judged that her father had given her
a bad report of us und bad some re
grets, In spite of my knowledge that
we were right, ulthough they related
mostly to Amos.
■orics were In the nature of n side
Issue. Ho nnd the schoolmaster went
1 ont of doors and must have talked to-
; gether while I was eating'a bowl of
; bread and milk which Mrs. Hacket had
brought to me.
When I went to bed, by and by,
heard somebody snoring on the tittle
porch nnder my window. The first
sound thnt reached my ear at the
break of dawn was the snoring of
some sleeper. I dressed and went be
low and found the constable lo hla
j coons kin overcoat asleep on tbe porch
‘ with a long-barreled gun at hla side.
While I stood there the schoolmnster
came around the corner of the boose
from the garden. He pat hla hand on
the deacon’s shoulder and gnve him
a little shake.
“Awake, ye Umb o’ the law,” he do
lt ad Time to Raise My Flail and
Bring It Down Upon the Head of
the Leader.
had time to raise my flail and bring It
down upon the head of the leader,
who fell ns I had seen a -beef fall un
der the ox. Another man stopped be
yond the reach of my flall-and, offer
a second’s hesitation, turned and ran
away In thc darkness.
I could hear or see no other motion
In the field. I turned and ran on
down the slope toward thc village. In
n moment I saw someone coming out
Next afternoon I saw Mr. Wright ( of the maple grove at the field’s end,
nnd the president walking back nnd > Just ahead, with a lantern.
forth on the bridge os they talked
together. A number of men stood In
front of the blucksmlth shop, by tho
river shore, wutcblng them, us I
passed, on my way to the mill on on
errand. The two statesmen were In
broadcloth and white linen and beaver
hats. They stopped as I approached
them.
“Well, partner, we shnll be leaving
In an hour or so," said Mr. Wright as
he gave me his hand. “Yon may look
for me here soon after the close of tho
session. Take caro of yourself and go
often to see Mrs. Wright and obey
your captain and remember me to yonr
aunt and uncle.”
See that you keep coming, my good
boy," said the president as ho gave mo
bis hand, with playful reference, no
doubt, to Mr. Wright’a remark that I
In a recent statement, J. H. Martin
of Mount Vernon, Go., says:
"1 was In the hospital with stomach | wna a comlng m „n
trouble and had quite a siege. It “
seemed I would novor got my strength Bart - rve 8ome
back after I came out, I had been so
111. I ached all over. I was nervous,
restless and yet did not feel like get
ting around. My akin was yellow. My
apiietlte poor. I was In pretty bad
shape and began to look around for a
tonic. I felt like part of tho trouble
was lack of Iron In my blood. I was
eo easily worried, so easily upset. I
heard of Zlron and know It would help
me. I began to take It and the Im
provement was great It strength
ened me, renewed my nerves and
toned up my system."
When you feel that yon neod
strength, remember that Zlron la a
perfected preparation of Iron salts,
combined with other strength-giving
Ingredients. Try Zlron.
ZN 3
TABLETS—On account of the great
demand from the public for ZIRON In
tablet torn we ore now patting It ap
in this way. Each $1 bottle contains
75 tablets. Can be sent by parcel
post. Chattanooga Drug fc Chemical
Co., Chattanooga. Tout.
wheat to bs
thrashed In the barn on tho back lot,”
said tho senator us I was leaving
them. “You can do It Saturdays, If
you care to, at a shilling on hour.
Stuck tbe straw out of doors until
you’ve finished, then put It bock In tho
bay. Wlonow tho wheat carefully and
sack It and bring It down to the gran
ary nnd I'll settle with you when I
return.”
I remember that a number of men
who worked In 0 rims haw's sawmill
were passing as be spoke.
“Yes, sir,” I answered, mach elated
by the prospect of earning money.
The examination of Amos was set
down for Monday and the people of
the village were stirred and shaken
by wildest rumors regarding the evi
dence to be adduced. Every day men
and women stopped mo in the street
to nsk what I knew of thc murder. I
followed thc advice of Bishop Per
kins and kept my knowledge to myscIL
Saturday cnme, and when tho chorea
were done I went alone to tho grain
born la the back lot of the senator’s
farm with flail and measure and broom
Then I heard the voice of thc school-
muster saying:
“Is It you, my lad?”
“Yes,” I answered, as I camo np to
him ond< Mary, In a condition of
breathless excitement.
I told them of thc curloua adventure
I had hud.
“Come quick,” said the schoolmas-
ter. “Let’s go back and find the man
in the stubble.”
I remembered that I had struck tho
path In my flight just before stopping
to swing the flail. The man must have
“Awake, Ys Umb o' the Law.”
“Prayer Is better thnn
fallen very near IL Soon we found
mandod.
sleep."
The deacon nrose and stretched
himself and cleared his throat and as
sumed an air of alertness and said It
was a fine morning, which It wns not,
the sky being overcast and the air
dark and.chilly. Mr. Hacket removed
where he had been lying and drops of
fresh blood on thc stubble.
“Hush,” said the schoolmaster.
We listened and beard a wagon rat
tling nt a wild pace down tho road
toward the river.
“There he goes.” said Mr. Hacket
“Ills companions have earned him
away. Ye'd be riding In thnt wagon
cow, yersclf, my brave lad. If yo hadn’t
’a’ made a lucky bit with tho flail—
God bless ye I"
“What would they ’a’ dono with
me?" I asked.
“Oh, I reckon they'd ’a’ took ye off,
lad, and kep’ ye for a year or so until
Amos wns ont o' danger," said Mr.
Hacket. “Maybe they’d drowned ye In
the river down there an' left yer
clothes on the bank to make It look
like an honest drowning. The devil
knows whnt they'd 'a' dono with ye.
laddie buck. We'll have to keep an
eye on ye now, every day until the
trial Is over-sure wo wllL Come, we’ll
go np to the barn and sco If Kate Is
there."
Just then wo heard the receding
wagon go roaring over tho bridge on
Little river. Mary shuddered with
fright Thc schoolmaster reassured os
by saying:
“Don't bo afraid. I brought my gun
tn case wo’d meet a painter. But the
danger Is past'
his greatcoat and threw It on tho stoop
saying
“Deacon, you lay there. From now
on I'm constable and ready for any act
that may bo necessary to maintain the
law. I can be as severe as Napoleon
Bonaparte and as canning as Satan, If
I hnve to be.”
While I wns milking the deacon sat
on n bucket In the doorway of the
stable and snored until I had finished.
He awoke when I loosed the cow and
thc constable wont lutek to the pasture
with me, yawning with hla hand over
his mouth much of the wny. The dea
con leaned his elbow on -the top of
tho pen and snored again, lightly,
while I mixed thc feed for thc pigs.
Mr. nneket met ns at the kitchen
door, whore Deacon BInks said to him:
“If you’ll look after the boy today
ni go homo and get a little rest”
“God bless yer soul, ye had a busy
night,” said tho schoolmaster with a
smile.
He added as he went Into the house:
“I never knew a man to rest with
more energy and persistence. It was
■ perfect flood o’ rest It kept mo
awako until long after midnight"
of clothes which I hnd worn since thnt
rainy October night, for I remembered
that Sam Robinson, the tailor, had
measured me nt our house nnd innde
ap the cloth of Aunt Deel's weaving.
I observed, also, that numerous ar
ticles—a load of wood, two sacks of
flonr, three pairs of boots, one coat
ten pounds of salt pork and four
bushels of potatoes—till for “Michael
Henry"—had been charged to Sllns
Wright
So by tho merest chance I learned
that the Invisible “Michael Henry’’ was
the almoner of the modest statesman
and really the spirit of Silas Wright
feeding the hungry and clothing the
nakeil and warming the cold house,
In the absence of Its owner. It was
the heart of Wright joined to that of
the schoolmaster, which sat In the
green chair.
I fear that my work suffered a mo
ment’s Interruption, for Just then I
began to know the great heart of tho
senator. Its warmth was In the cloth
ing that covered my back. Its delicacy
in the Ignorance of those who bad
shared Its benefactions.
I coant this one of the great events
of my yonth. But there was a greater
one, although It seemed not so at the
time of IL A traveler on the road to
Ballybeen had dropped hla pockctbook
containing a large amount of money—
$2,700 was the sum, If I remember
rightly. He was a man who, being
Justly suspicions of tho banks, bad
withdrawn bis money. Posters an
nounced the loss and the offer of a
large reward. The village was pro
foundly stirred by them. Searching
parties went up the road stirring Its
dost and groping In ita grass and bri
ers for the great prize which was sup
posed to be lying there. It was said,
however, that the quest had been un
successful. So the lost pocketbook
became a treasured mystery of the
village and of nil the hills and val
leys toward Ballybeen—a topic of old
wives and gnbbllog husbands at the
fireside for unnumbered years.
By and by thc fall term of school
ended. Uncle Penbody catne down to
get me the day before Christmas. I
hnd enjoyed my work nnd my life at
thc Hacket8', on the whole, but I was
glad to be going home again. My
unde wns In high spirits nnd there
were many packages In the sleigh.
“A merry Christmas to ye both an’
may the Lord love ye I” said Mr.
Hacket as he bade us goodby. “Every
dny our thonghts will be going np tho
hills to your honse."
The bells rang merrily os wo hur-
p' ye—didn’t they, Bart?’
“I don't care about that," I assured
them. “The mind's the measure of
(he man,’ ” I quoted, remembering tho
lines the Senator bad repeated to me.
‘That’s sound I” Uncle Peabody ex
claimed with enthusiasm.
Aunt Deel took my hand In hers and
surveyed It thoughtfully for a moment
without speaking.
“Yop ain't gala' to havo to suffer
that way no more,” she said In a low
tone. We’re goln’ to be more comfta-
ble—ayes. Yer ancle thought we better
go West, bat I couldn’t bear to go off
so fur an* leave mother an' father an’
sister Susan an’ all the folks we loved
Inyln* here In the ground alone—I
want to lay down with 'em by an’ by
an' wait for the sound o’ the trum
pet—ayes I—mebbe It’ll be for thou
sands o’ years—eyes I”
To onr astonishment the clock
■truck twelves
“Hurrah I IPs merry Christmas I”
•■M Unde Peabody aa be Jumped te
his feet and began to sing of the little
Lord Jeans. ,,
We Joined him while be stood b*t-
log time with his right hand after the
fashion of a singing master.
“Off with yer boots, friend I” be ex
claimed when the stanza was finished.
“Wo don't have to set np and watch
tike the shepherds.”
We drew onr boots on tbe chair
round with bands clasped over the
knee—how familiar Is the process, and
yet I haven't seen It In more than half
a century I I lighted n candle and
scampered upstairs In my stocking
feet. Uncle Peabody following close
and slapping my thigh as If my pace
were not fast enough for him. In tho
midst of our skylarking the candle
tumbled to the floor and I had to go
bnck to the stove and relight IL
How good It seemed to be back In
tbe old room, under the sblnglesl Tbe
bent of the stovepipe had warmed its
hospitality.
“It’s been kind o’ lonesome here,”
said Uncle Peabody as he opened the
window. “I always let the wind come
In to keep me company—It gits so
worm."
“Ye can’t look at yer stockin' ylt,"
said Aunt Deel when I came down
stairs about eight o'clock, having slept
through chore time. I remember It
was the delicious aroma of frying ham
and buckwheat cakes which awoke mo;
and who wouldn't rise and shake off
the clonk of slumber on a bright,
cold winter morning with such provo
cation?
i)
CHAPTER XI.
The 8plrlt of Michael Henry and
Others.
At tbe examination of Amos Grim-
shaw my knowledge was committed to
nnd fork und shovel nnd sacks nnd m» He drcw “ lons D** 10 * from hl * 0081 BIJa " auuwieugc was commuted to
lunch eon. *!□ .p^rart,“,of {^1 ^ he,d « * the light of tho th. mart..andceased, to bo . source
which Mrs. Wright had provided me. .rood in ttoTmneo ^ £
It was a lonely place with woods loaded cart stood la the middle the village that day. On my way ta
^ u ‘This ain't no common Chrls’mas—
ried through tho swamp ln° the” hard 1 tcU ye '" Aunt Decl wcnt on - “ Santa
snow paths. Clans won't git hero short o’ noon I
wouldn't wonder—ayes I”
About eleven o’clock Uncle Hlnun
and Aunt Eliza und their five children
arrived with loud and merry greetings.
Then came other aunts and uncles and
cousins. With what noisy good cheer
the men entered the houso after they
had put up their horses! I remember
bow they laid their bard, heavy hands
on my bcud and shook It a little as
they spoke of my “stretchln' up” or
gave me a playful slap on the shoulder
—on ancient token of good will—the
first form of the accolade, I fancy.
What Joyful good humor there was la
those simple men and women—enough
to temper the woes of a city If It could
have been applied to their relief. They
stood thick around the stove warming
themselves and taking off Its griddles
and opening Its doors and surveying It
Inside nnd ont with mach cariosity.
“Now for tho Christmas tree,” sal
Uncle Peabody os he led the way Into
onr best room, where a fire was burn
ing In the old Franklin grate. “Come ^
on. boys an' glrla.”
What a wonderful sight was tho
Christmas tree—the first we had luul
In our bonae—a fine spreading balsqfj
loaded with presents I Uncle Htnui
Jumped Into the air and clapped his
feet together and shouted: “Hold me.
somebody, or I'll grab tho hull tree
an’ ran away with IL”
Uncle Jobes held one foot In both
bands before him and joyfolly bopped
oronnd tbe tree.
These relatives bad brought their
family gifts, some days before, to be
hung on Its branches. The thing that
snow paths.
“We’re goin' to move,” said my
uncle presently. “We’ve agreed to get
ont by the middle o’ May.”
“How does that happen?” I asked.
“I settled with Grimshaw and agreed
to go. If It hadn’t ’a’ been for Wright
and Baldwin we wouldn't ’o’ got a
cent They threatened to bid against
him nt thc sale. So he settled. We’re
goln’ to havo a new home. We’ve
bought a hundred nn’ fifty acres from
Abe Leonard. Qola' to baild a new
house In tho spring. It will bo nearer
tho village.” '
He playfully nudged my ribs with
bis elbow.
“WoVc had a little good lack, Bart,"
ho went on. “Itl tell ye what It Is If
yon won’t say anything about IL"
I promised.
“I dnnno as It would matter much,"
he continued, “but I don’t want to do
any brnggln*. It ain't anybody's busi
ness, anyway. An old ancle over In
Vermont died three weeks ago and
left us thirty-eight hundred dollara.
It was old Uncle Ezra Baynes o'
Hlncsbarg. Died without a chick or
child. Yonr aant and me slipped down
to Potsdam an’ took the stago an'
went over an got thc money. It was
more money than I ever see before
In my life. We put It In tho bank In
Potsdam to keep It ont o’ Grimsbaw's
bands. I wouldn't trust that man os
fur as you could throw a bull by tbs
toll."
It was a cold, clear night, and when
we reached home tbe new stove was
snapping wltb the heat In Its firebox
corner. Aunt Deel gave me a bug at
and tbe padding puffing tn tbe pot caogbt my eye was n big sliver watch
and old Shep dreaming In tbe chimney banging by a long golden chain to one
of tbe boughs. Uncle Peabody took B