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“The Story of Waitstill Baxter”
Copyright, 1913, by
Kate Douglas Wiggin
Author of “Rebecca of Sunny brook Farm"
PROLOGUE.
Strength and interest of quie
lives in the New England o
three-quarters of a century 05
provide the framework of “Th<
Story of Waitstill Baxter." Thai
is the skeleton. The flesh ana
blood of human beings, I’vint
and loving and moving m a worla
of their own that is a mimafurt
picture of the greater world ou
side, are also there. The star
ts a cross section of life as set
and described by a woman wh<
has been well called “America .-,
greatest living woman t.ovelist.
Amid the hills of New England
are many men and women lik.
Waitstill and Patience Baxte
and their father, Ivory Boynto
and his afflicted mother an>
funny Cephas Cole, who woo
hopefully, but with small chanc
of success. They find their wa
into books but seldom, for
takes a master hand to descrit
faithfully the doings of rei
people. And that is the reaso
why “The Story of Waitsti <
Baxter” has won highest prais.
from critics who know a gooi
book when they see one.
(Continued from Yesterday.)
(
“Goody, goody: Come along!” am
Patty clapped her hands In triumph
“Have you got the pencil and tin
needle and the waxed silk? Then
bring the camphor bottle to revive me
and the coral pendants, too, just to
give me courage. Hurry up! It’s 10
o’clock. I was born at sunrise, so I’m
‘going on’ eighteen and can't waste
any time!”
*••**••
Foxwell Baxter was ordinarily called
“Old Foxy” by the boys of the district
and also, it is to be feared, by the men
gathered for evening conference at the
various taverns, or at one of the rival
village stores.
He had a small farm of fifteen or
twenty acres, with a pasture, a wood
lot and a hayfleld, but the principal
source of his Income came from trad
ing. His sign bore the usual legend.
“West India Goods and Groceries,”
and probably the most profitable ar
tides In his stock were rum, mo
lasses, sugar and tobacco, but there
were chests of rice, tea, coffee and
spices, barrels of pork in brine, as well
as piles of cotton and woolen cloth
on the shelves above the counter. His
shop window, seldom dusted or set In
order, held a few clay pipes, some
glass jars of peppermint or sassafras
lozenges, black licorice, stick caudj
and sugar gooseberries. These daln
ties were seldom renewed, for It was
only a very bold child or one with an
ungovernable appetite for sweets who
would have spent his penny at Foxj
Baxter’s store. •
He was thought a sharp and shrewc
trader, but bis honesty was never ques
tloned. Indeed, the only trait in bi
character that ever came up for gen
eral discussion was his extraordinary
unbelievable, colossal meanness. Thi
so eclipsed every other passion In tbi
man and loomed so bulklly and lnsls
tently In the foreground that had b
cherished a second vice no one wouh
have observed It and if be really di>
possess a casual virtue it could scarci
ly have reared Its head In such ugl
company.
It might be said, to defend the fai
sane of the church, that Mr. Baxter'
deaconhood did not Include very activ
service In the courts of the Lord. II
had “experienced rellglun” at fifteei
and made profession of bis faith, bu
all well brought up boys and girls db
the Mine !f those days—their parent
saw to that! If chunge of convlctloi
or backsliding occurred later on tha
was not their business! At the rip*
age of twenty-five be was selected b
fill a vacancy and became a deacon
thinking it might be good for trade, a-
It was. for some years. He was very
active at the time of the "Cochran*
craze.” since any defense of the creo
that Included lively detective work am
Incessant spying on his neighbors wa>
particularly in bis line, but for many
years now. though he had been regular
in attendance at church, be bud nevei
officiated at communion and bis dett
conal services had gradually lapsed
into the passing of the contributloi
box, a task of which be never wearieo
it was such a keen pleasure to mak*
:KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
other people yield their pennies for a
good cause without adding his own!
Deacon Baxter had now been a wid
ower for nine years, and the oommun
ity had almost relinquished the idea ol
his seeking a fourth wife. This was a
matter of some regret, for there was a
general feeling that it would he a gooo
thing for the Baxter girls to hare Bonn
one to help with the housework and act
as a buffer between them and their
grim and irascible parent As for 111
women of the village, they were morti
fied that the Deacon had been able to
secure three wives and refused to be
Here that the universe held anywhen
a creature benighted enough to becont
his fourth.
The first, lie it said, was a mere ign
runt girl, and he a beardless youth 01
twenty, who may not have showu his
true qualities so early In life. She bore
bim two sons, and it was a matter of
comment at the time that she called
them, respectively, .lob and Moses, hop
ing that the endurance and meekness
connected with these names might
somehow help them in their future re
lations with their father. Pneumonia,
coupled with profound discouragement,
carried her off in a few years to rnuke
room for the second wife, Waitstill’s
mother, who was of diffeji nt fiber and
greatly his superior. She uas a fine
handsome girl, the orphan daughter 01
up country gentlefolks who had died
when she was eighteen, leaving het
alone in the world and penniless.
Baxter, after a few days’ acquaint
ance, drove into the dooryard of the
house where she was a visitor and
showing her his two curly headed boys,
suddenly asked her to come and bt
their stepmother. She assented, parti}
because she had nothing else to do
with her existence so far as she coultt
see, and also because she fell in lovi
with the children at first sight and for
got, as girls will, that it was theh
father whom she was marrying.
She was as plucky and clever nncl
spirited as she was handsome, and sin
made a bruve fight of it with Foxy,
long enough to bring a daughter into
the world, to name her Waitstill ami
start her a little way on her life jour
ney—then she, too, gave up the strug
gle and died. Typhoid fever it was.
combined with complete loss of lllu
slons and a kind of despairing rage at
having made so complete a failure ol
her existence.
The next year Mr. Baxter, being un
usually busy, offered a man a good
young heifer if he would jog about the
country a little and pick him up a
housekeeper, a likely woman who
would if she proved energetic, econom
ical and amiable be eventually raised
to the proud position of bis wife. If
she was young, healthy, smart, tidy,
capable and a good manager, able to
milk the cows, harness the horse and
make good butter he would give a dol
lar and a half a week. The woman
was found, and, incredible as it may
seem, she said “yes” when the deacon,
whose ardor was kindled at having
paid three months’ wages, proposed a
speedy marriage. The two boya by
this time had reached the age of dis
cretion. and one of them evinced the
fact by promptly running away to
parts unknown, never to be heard from
afterward; while the other, a reckless
and unhappy lad. was drowned while
running on the logs in the river. Old
Foxy showed little outward sign of his
loss.
His third wife, the one originally se
cured for a housekeeper, bore him a
girl, very much to his disgust, a girl
named Patience, and great was Walt
still's delight at this addition to the
dull household. The mother was a
timid, colorless, docile creature, but
Patience nevertheless was a sparkling,
bright eyed baby, who speedily became
the very center of the universe to the
older child. So the months and years
wore on drearily enough until when
Patience was eight the third Mrs.
Baxter succumbed after the manner of
her predecessors and slipped away
from a life that had grown intolerable.
The trouble was diagnosed as "liver
complaint," but scarcity of proper
food, no new frocks or kind word*,
hard work and continual bullythg may
possibly have been contributory causes
Dr. Perry thought so. for be had wit
nessed three most contented deaths in
the Baxter house. The ladles were all
members of the church and hud pre
oumably made their peace with God.
but tbo good doctor fancied that their
pleasure In JolDing the angels was mild
compared with their relief at parting
with the deacon.
"I know I hadn't ought to put the
care on you. Waitstill, and you oal}
fourteen." poor Mrs. Baxter sighed, us
the yo ung girl was wutchiug with (up
one night w ueu the end seemed draw
ing near. “I’ve made out to live till
now when Patience Is old enough to
dress herself and help round, but I'm
all beat out and can’t try any more."
“Do you mean I'm to take your place,
be a mother to Patience and keep
house and everything?’’ asked Wait
still quaveringly.
“I don't see but you'll have to, un
less your father marries again. He’ll
never hire help, you know that!”
“X won't have another mother in this
house,” flashed the girl. "There's been
three here and that's enough! If he
brings anybody home I'll take Pa
tience and run away, as Job did. or
If he leaves ine alone I’ll wash and
iron and scrub and cook till Patience
grows up. and then we'll go off to
gether and hide somewhere I’m four
teen. Oil. mother, how soon could I
be married and take Patience to live
with me? Do you think anybody will
ever want me?"
"Don't marry for a home, Waitstill!
Your bwn mother did that, and so did
I, and we were both punished for It!
You've been a great help, and I’ve had
a sight of comfort out of the baby,
but I wouldn't go through it again, not
even for her! You're real smart and
capable for your age. and you've done
your full share of the work every day.
even w hen you were at sehool. You
can get along all right."
"I don't know how I'm going to do
everything alone." said the girl, fore
ing hack her tears "You’ve always
made the brown bread, and mine will
never suit father 1 suppose 1 enn
wash, but I don't know how to iron
starehed clothes, nor make pickles,
and oh! I can never kill a rooster,
mother. It's no use to aak me to! I'm
not big enongn to be the head of the
favnfly/*
Mrs Baxter turned her pale, tired
fare awny from WaitstHl's appealing
eyes.
“1 know." she said faintly. "I hate
to leave you to bear the brunt alone,
but I must! * * * Take good care of
Patience and don't let her get into trou
ble. * * * You won't, will you?”
“I’ll be promised Waitstill,
sobbing quietly. "I’ll do my best.”
“You've got more courage than ever I
had; dou't you s’pose you can stiffen up
and defend yourself a little mite?
Your father’d ought to be opposed, for
his own good, but I’ve never seen any
body that dared do it.” Then, after a
pause, she said with a flash of spirit.
"Anyhow. Waitstill, he’s your father
after all. He's no blood relation of
mine, and 1 can't stand him another
day; that’s the reason I’m willing to
die.’’
* * * * * » *
Ivory Boynton lifted the bars thnt
divided bis land from the highroad and
walked slowly toward the house. It
was April, but there were still patches
of snow here and there, fast meltinfe
under a drizzling rain. It was a gray
world, a bleak, black and brown world,
above and below. The sky was leaden;
the road und the footpath were deep
in a muddy ooze flecked with white
The tree trunks, black, with bare
branches, were outlined against the
gray aky; nevertheless, spring bad
been on the way for a week, and a few
sunny days would bring the yearly
miracle for which all hearts were long
lng.
Ivory was season wise, and his quick
eye had caught many a sign as he
walked through the woods from his
schoolbouse. A new and different colot
haunted the tree tops, and one bad only
to look closely at the elm buds to see
that they were beginning to swell.
Some fat robins bad been bonnclng
about In the schoolyard at noon, and
the sparrows bad been chirping and
twittering on the fence rails. Yes, the
winter was over, and Ivory was glad,
for It bad meant no coasting and skat
ing and sleighing for him, but long
walks In deep snow or slush, long even
lngs, good for study, but short days
and greater loneliness for his mother
He could see her now as he neared the
bouse, standing In the open doorway,
her hand shading her eyes, watching,
always watching, for some one who
never came.
“Spring Is on the way, mother, but it
isn’t here yet, so don’t stand there In
the rain,'* he called. “Look at the nose
gay I gathered for you as I came
through the woods. Here are pussy
willows and red maple blossoms and
mayflowers. would you believe It?”
Lois Boynton took the handful of
budding things and sniffed their fra
grance.
“You’re late tonight, Ivory,” she said.
"Rod wanted his supper early so that
be could go off to singing school, but 1
kept something warm for you, and I’ll
make yon a freah cup of tea.”
CHAPTER 111,
Something of a Hero.
IVORY went into the little shed
room off the kitchen, changed
bis muddy boots for slippers and
made himself generally tidy, then
be came hack to the living room bring
ing a pine knot which be flung on the
fire, waking It to a brilliant flame.
“We can be as lavish as we like with
the stumps now, mother, for aprlng Is
coming,” be said, ea be eat down to Iris
meal.
“I’ve been looking out more thau
usual this afternoon," abe replied
“There's hardly any snow left, and
though tile walking la so bad I've been
rather expecting your father before
night You remember be said when be
went away In January that be sbonld
be back before the mayflowera bloom
pri ****
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
THE AUGUSTA HERALD, AUGUSTA, GA.
They show the young man when he STARTS with
the whiskey. But they do not show him when he
FINISHES.
Here we show you both sides of the medal, the be
ginning and the end.
Gambling, Drugs, Whiskey—
Shun Them
m
They Begin and End Alike—And There Is No Limit to
Their Power For Evil.
Copyright, 1914, by th« Star Company.
The worst vice In the world Is
gambling. For It makes the honored
man a thief, wrecks the family, de
stroys ambition, makes real effort Im
possible. Therefore public gambling
Is the greatest curse.
And next to gambling the worst
curse Is the drug habit—cocaine,
opium, morphine. It wrecks the will,
makes the truthful man a liar, makes
good work Impossible—and its end is
death.
And the third curse is whiskey—
weakening the will power, doing slow
ly and with heart-breaking certainty
the work of destruction.
All of these forces for evil begin in
the same way.
The younger gambler, the man who
first trifles with the danger of drugs,
the man who begins with whiskey and
Its gaiety—they are all happy to start
with.
But in the end, one Is as miserable
as the other. The life of youth is
burned out, hope goes, blackness and
fog settle down.
The gambler, the drug fiend, and
the whiskey victim alike know, when
it Is too late, what lies the
told, how inevitable the end was.
A good deal of talent Is used in
this country In the preparation of
whiskey advertising.
We give you on this page a striking
picture—a fair Imitation of the ordi
nary style of whiskey advertising.
But we put In on the right, a lit
tle out of the picture, an extra truth
THAT THE WHISKEY ADVERTISE
MENT LEAVES OUT.
We show you the whiskey drinker
BEFORE AND AFTER.
We show you how whiskey starts,
and how It ends.
first, the little glass. HO LITTLE,
SO INOFFENSIVE, HO SOCIABLE,
WITH HO MANY EXCUSES TO
BACK IT.
It is held in tho air, and a pair of
Those Pretty Whiskey Advertisements
clear, bright eyes and a good, strong,
well meaning face say “What can this
do to me?"
Look at the man on the edge of the
picture and you will SEE what it can
do.
And after you have looked at this
picture, and read this editorial —one
of thousands that we have written —
make up your mind to leave alone the
three curses of our day, gambling,
drugs and whiskey—AND ESPECIAL
LY WHISKEY, WHICH IS OFTEN
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE OTH
ER TWO.
WHY BHE WEPT.
Apropos of the numerous Influen
tial malefactors whose prison terms
are either annulled or cut down to
nearly nothing, Mayor Brand Whit
lock of Toledo said a short while ago:
“Is it a good thing for the public
to let these men out so mmn'!
"I was sympathising one afternoon
with a poor woman whoso husband
had Just been sent to jail. She was
weeping bitterly, and I said to her:
“‘Now, don't take It so hard. Two
years Is a long sentence, I know, hut
he may not have to serve It all. Con
victs who behave themselves often
times get out months before their ap
pointed time.’
“ 'That's Just It,’ she replied, still
sobbing. 'Henry can be an angel when
he likes.’ ” —Llpplncott's.
ANOTHER* INSTANCE.
"I see,” said the sad young man,
“that Ermltrude has a new automo
bile.”
"Yes, her papa gave her a dandy,”
burbled the Joyful youth.
“And how does she like it?”
“She says she Is madly in love with
It.”
“Another case where man Is dis
placed by machinery!" exclaimed the
sad young man, going out and apply
ing for membership In anarchists'
club.—Cleveland Plain Dealer.
ALERT.
“What Is your wife’s attitude to
ward your coming home late?"
, “It's one of watchful waiting."—
Exchange.
We show you the pretty whiskey advertisement, the
smiling young boy, just out of nis teem-’ And we show
you what the whiskey advertisement D ' NOT SHOW
YOU, the same young man . few yean ter when be
has given that whiskey A THOROUGH TRIAL. (See
editorial.)
Why Send a Child to School at Six
Years of Age?
“Why send a child to school at six years—much less
at four or five?
“Theoretically, a child is supposed to enter school at
six, because it is supposed to take him eight years, at
five hours a day, to prepare for high school, which is at
present the end of the elementary schools.
“Probably it will take him eight years if he begins at
six with 70 other children, writes Ella Frances Lynch, in
the Pictorial Review. But it has been conclusively proved
that if classes afe small enough so that a teacher can
reach her individual pupils, four years of schooling begun
at 10 years of age will result in pupils even better pre
pared for high school than those who begin at six! This
is because the 10-year-old brings to his studies a more
mature mind, and can master in a few months’ work
what would take a year beginning at six. And bear in
mind that the six-year-old spends five hours a day in
school—not necessarily in learning. In nearly all the
schools the size of the lower grade makes it necessary for
the teacher to give out an endless variety of so-called
“busy work.” This means spelling to be copied again and
again, copies of "number work” to be followed “until
both sides of the slate are full.” In this way the teacher
is enabled to attend to the needs of a small group at a
time, the only way she really can teach anything to
young children. The other children are in school, but not
learning. So the public school wastes not only time but
the energy of the children in its care, turning their efforts
into mere mcrchanical repretition until the brain is weary
and stupefied. Could anything be less educational?
”It is a severe arraignment that I make—that the pub
lic school stupidly and wantonly wastes public funds,
human initiative and human energy and stultifies instead
of stimulating efficiency.”
—Ella Francis Lynch, in Pictorial Review.
A LOBT JOB.
A young boy got a Job with a Scot
tish farmer once.
“Ye'll sloop In tho barn,” tho fnrm
or said, "and I'll export you to bo out
lu tho field Ilka morn at 4 o'clock."
"Very well, air,” aald the boy.
SEVEN
But the first morning he overslept
a little, and It was 4:30 when he
reached the field.
The farmer, leaning on hla hoc, gave
him a black look.
"Where have ye been all '.he fore
noon?” he growled.