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Show inn good will mill I'oiiihI their owners. 1 have never forgotten how Uncle .In-hc. .In-hc. chased Aunt Minerva around Iho house wllh n wooden snake cunningly carved mill coloreil. I observed there wore nuiiiy things on the tree whlclu hiul not heen taken down when we younger ones gathered up our wealth and repaired to Aunt Dccl's room to l'eust our eyes upon It uud compare our good l'ortune. The women nnd the big girls rolled up their sleeves nnd went to work with Aunt Duel preparing the dinner. The snout turkey nnd the chicken pit; were made ready and put In the oven and the potatoes and the onions and the winter squash wero soon boiling In their pots on the stovelop. Meanwhile Mean-while the children were playing In my mint's bedroom and Uncle Hiram and Uncle Jabez were pulling sticks in a corner while the other men sat tipped against the wall watching and making . 1 1 IL Lini 1 i 1 A TALE OF THE NORTH COUNTRY IN THE TIME OF SILAS WIGHT IRVING BACMELLEFw Author of EBEN HOLDEN. D'RI AND I, DARKEL OF THE BLESSED ISLES. KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE, ETC, ETC CorYMOIlT NmmlNJXVlNTUN, IKVINO 1ACHWO playful comments all save my Uncle Peabody, who was trying to touch his head to the lloor and then slrulghteu up with the aid of the broomstick. In tho midst of It Aunt Deel opened the front door and old Kate, the Silent Woman, entered. To my surprise, she wore a decent-looking dress of gray homespun cloth and a white cloud looped over her head and ears and tied around her neck and a good pair of boots. "Merry Chris'mas !" we all shouted. She smiled and nodded her head and sat down in the chair which Uncle Pea-body Pea-body had placed for her at the stove side. Aunt Deel took the ekiud oil her head while Kate drew her mittens newly knitted of tho best yarn. Then my aunt brought some stockings and a shawl from the tree and laid them on the lap of old Kate. What a silence fell upon us as we saw tears coursing down the cheeks of this lonely old woman of the countryside tears of joy, doubtless, for God knows how long it: had been since the poor, abandoned soul had seen a merry Christmas and shared its kindness. I did not fail to observe how clean her face and hands looked! She was greatly changed. She took my hand as I went to her side and tenderly caressed it. A gentler gen-tler smile came to her face than ever I had seen npon it. The old stern look returned for a moment as site held one finger aloft in a gesture which only I and my Aunt Deel understood. We knew it signalized a peril and a mystery. mys-tery. That I should have to meet it, somewhere up the hidden pathway, I had no doubt whatever. "Dinner's ready !" exclaimed the cheerful voice of Aunt Deel. Then what a stirring of chairs and feet as we sat down at the table. Old ayes! She's goin' to stay wltn us till tomorrow." "(loud Idee!" said Uncle Ponboilj. So I look the money out of tludr hands and went in and gave It to the Silent Woman. "That's your present from me," I Raid. How can I forget how she held my arm against her with that loving, fa-mlllur, fa-mlllur, rocking motion of a woman who Is soothing a baby at her breast and kissed my coat sleeve? She released re-leased my arm and, turning to the window, win-dow, leaned her head upon Its sill and shook with sobs. The dusk had thickened. thick-ened. As I returned to my seat by the stove I could dimly see her form against the light of the window. We sat In 'silence for a little while. Then Uncle Peabody rose and got a candle and lighted It at the hearth. I held the lantern while Uncle Peabody Pea-body fed tho sheep and the two cows and milked a slight chore these winter win-ter days. "You and I are to go off to bed purty early," he said as we were going back to the house. "Yer Aunt Deel wants to see Kate alone and git her to talk if she can. "I dunno but she'll swing back Into this world ag'In," said Uncle Peabody when we had gone up to our little room. "I guess all she needs Is to be treated like a human bein'. Yer Aunt Deel an' I couldn't git over thinkin' o' what she done for you that night in the ol' barn. So I took some o' yer aunt's good clothes to her an' a pair o' boots an' asked her to come to Chris'mas. She lives In a little room over the blacksmith shop down to But-tciTield's But-tciTield's mill. I told her I'd come after her with the cutter but she shook her head. I knew she'd rather wGlk." He was yawning as he spoke and soon we were both asleep under the shingles. CHAPTER XII. The Thing and Other Things. I returned to Mr. HackeL's house late in the afternoon of New Year's day. The schoolmaster was lying on a big lounge in a corner of their front room with the children about him. The dusk was falling. "Welcome, my laddie buck !" he exclaimed ex-claimed as I entered. "We're telling stories o' the old year an' you're just In time for the last o' them. Sit down, lad, and God give ye patience ! It'll soon be over." After supper he got out his boxing gloves and gave me a lesson in the art of self-defense, in which, I was soon to learn, he was highly accomplished, for we had a few rounds together every day after that. He keenly enjoyed en-joyed this form of exercise and I soon began to. My capacity for taking punishment pun-ishment without flinching grew apace and before long I got the knack of countering and that pleased him more even than my work in school, I have sometimes thought. "God bless ye, boy!" he exclaimed one. day after I had landed heavily on his cheek, "ye've a nice way o' sneakin' in with yer . right I've a notion ye may find it useful some day." I wondered a little why he should say that, and while I was wondering he felled me with a stinging blow on my nose. "Ah, my lad there's the best thing I have seen ye do get up an' come back with no mad in ye," he said as he gave me his hand. One day the schoolmaster called the older boys to the front seats in his room and I among them. "Now, boys, I'm going to ask ye what ye want to do in the world," he said. "Don't be afraid to tell me what ye may never have told before and I'll do what I can to help ye." For some months I had been studying study-ing a book just published, entitled, "Stenographic Sound-Hand," and had learned its alphabet and practiced the use of it. That evening I took down the remarks of Mr. Hacket in sound-hand. sound-hand. The academy chapel was crowded with the older boys and girls and the tcwnfolk. The master never clipped his words in school as he was wont to do when talking familiarly with the children. "Since the leaves fell our little village vil-lage has occupied the center of the stage before an audience of millions in the great theater of congress. Our leading citizen the chief actor has been crowned with immortal fame. We who watched the play were thrilled by the query: Will Uncle Sam yield to temptation or cling to honor? He has chosen the latter course and we may still hear the applause In distant galleries gal-leries beyond the sea. He has decided that the public revenues must be paid in honest money. "My friend and classmate, George Bancroft, the historian, has written this letter to me out of a full heart. (TO BE CONTINUED.) CHAPTER XI Continued. 12 I count this oue of the great events of my youth. But there was a greater one, although it seemed not so at the time of It. A traveler on the road to Ballybeen had dropped his pocketbook containing a large amount of money $2,700 was the sum, if I remember rightly. He was a man who, being justly suspicious of the banks, had withdrawn his money. Posters announced an-nounced the loss nnd the offer of a large reward. The village was profoundly pro-foundly stirred by them. Searching parties went up the road stirring its dust and groping in its grass and briers bri-ers for the great prize which was supposed sup-posed to be lying there. It was said, however, that the quest had been unsuccessful. un-successful. So the lost pocketbook became a treasured mystery of the village and of all the hills and valleys val-leys toward Ballybeen a topic of old wives and gabbling husbands at the fireside for unnumbered years. By and by the fall term of school ended. Uncle Peabody came down to get me the day before Christmas. I had enjoyed my work and my life nt the Hackets', on the whole, but I was glad to be going home again. My uncle was in high spirits and there were many packages in the sleigh. "A merry Christmas to ye both an' may the Lord love ye 1" said Mr. Hacket as he bade us goodby. "Every day our thoughts will be going up the hills to your house." The bells rang merrily as we hurried hur-ried through the swamp in the hard snow paths. "We're goin' to move," said my uncle presently. "We've agreed to get out 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 'a' got a cent. They threatened to bid against him at the sale. So he settled. We're goin' to have a new home. We've bought a hundred an' fifty acres from Abe Leonard. Goin' to build a new house in the spring. It will be nearer the village." He playfully nudged my ribs with his elbow. "We've had a little good luck, Bart," lie went on. "I'll tell ye what it is if you won't say anything about it." ! I promised. ' "I dunno as it would matter much," le continued, "but I don't want to do ony braggin'. It ain't anybody's business, busi-ness, anyway. An old uncle over in Vermont died three weeks ago and left us thirty-eight hundred dollars, ilt was old Uncle Ezra Baynes o' Hinesburg. Died without a chick or child. Your aunt and me slipped down to Potsdam an took the stage an ;went over an got the money. It was more money than I ever see before in my life. We put it in the bank in Potsdam to keep it out o' Grimshaw's hands. I wouldn't trust that man as fur as you could throw a bull by the tail." It was a cold, clear night, and when we reached home the new stove was mnpping with the heat in its firebox and the pudding puffing in the pot and old Shep dreaming in the chimney corner. Aunt Deel gave me a hug at the door. Shep barked and leaped to my shoulders. "Why, Bart 1 You're growin' like a weed ain't ye? ayes ye be." my aunt said as she stood and looked at ir.e. "Set right down here an' warm ye ayes! J've done all the chores nyes !" How wai m and comfortable was the dear old room with those beloved faces In it. I wonder if paradise itself can seem more pleasant to me. I have had the best food this world can provide, In my time, but never anything that I ate with a keener relish than the pudding and milk and bread and butter but-ter and cheese and pumpkin pie which Aunt Deel gave us that night. Supper over, I wiped the dishes for my aunt while Uncle Peabody went out to feed and water the horses. Then we sat down in the genial warmth while I told the story of my life in "the busy town," as they called IL What pride and attention they gave we tiipn 1 My fine clothes and the story of Iiotv I had come by them taxed my ingenuity inge-nuity somewhat, although not improperly. improp-erly. I had to be careful not to let them know that I had been ashamed of the homemade salt. They somehow felt the truth about it and a little silence followed the story. Then Aunt Deel drew her chair near me and touched my hair very gently and looked into my face without speaking. "Ayes ! I know," she said presently, In a kind of caressing tone, with a touch of sadness in it. "They ain't used to coarse homespun stuff down there in the village. They made fun t' ye didn't' they, Bart?" "I don't care about that," I assured them. " The mind's the measure of the man,' " I quoted, remembering the tines the Senator had repeated to me. "That's sound !" Uncle Peabody exclaimed ex-claimed with enthusiasm. Aunt Deel took my hand in hers and surveyed It thoughtfully for a moment without speaking. "You ain't goin' to have to suffer that way no more," she said In a low tone. We're goin' to be more comf'ta-ble comf'ta-ble ayes. Yer uncle thought we better go West, but I couldn't bear to go off so far an' leave mother an' father an' sister Susan an' all the folks we loved layin' here in tho ground alone I want to lay down with 'em by an' by an' wait for the sound o' the trumpet trum-pet ayes ! mebbe it'll be for thousands thou-sands o' years ayes 1" To our astonishment the clock struck twelve. "Hurrah 1 It's merry Christmas 1" said Uncle Peabody as he jumped to his feet and began to sing of the little Lord Jesus. We joined him while he stood beating beat-ing time with his right hand after the fashion of a singing master. "Off with yer boots, friend !" he exclaimed ex-claimed when the stanza was finished. "We don't have to set up and watch like the shepherds." We drew our boots on the chair round with hands clasped over the knee how familiar is the process, and yet I haven't seen it in more than hulf a century ! I lighted a 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 the midst of our skylarking the .candle tumbled to the floor and I had to go back to the stove and relight it. How good it seemed to be back in the old room under the shingles ! The heat 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 warm." "Ye can't look at yer stockln' yit," said Aunt Deel when I came downstairs 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 me ; and who wouldn't rise and shake off the cloak of slumber on a bright, cold winter morning with such provocation? provo-cation? "This ain't no common Chris'mas I tell ye," Aunt Deel went on. "Santa Claus won't git here short o' noon I wouldn't wonder ayes 1" About eleven o'clock Uncle Hiram and Aunt Eliza and 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 house after they had put up their horses ! I remember how they laid their hard, heavy hands on my head and shook it a little as they spoke of my "stretchln' up" or gave me a playful slap on the shoulder an ancient token of good will the first form of the accolade, I fancy. What joyful good humor there was in 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 and out with much curiosity.' "Now for the Christmas tree," said Uncle Peabody as he led the way into our best room, where a fire was burning burn-ing in the old Franklin grate. "Come on, boys an' girls." What a wonderful sight was the Christmas tree the first we had had in our house a fine spreading balsam loaded with presents ! Uncle Hiram jumped into the air and clapped his feet together and shouted : "Hold me, somebody, or I'll grab the hull tree an' run away with It." Uncle Jabez hold one foot in both hands before him and joyfully hopped around the tree. These relatives had brought their family gifts, some days before, to be hung on its branches. The thing that caught my eye was a big silver watch hanging by a long golden chain to one of the boughs. Uncle Peabody took it down and held it aloft by the chain, so that none should miss the sight, saying: say-ing: "From Santa Claus for Bart !" A murmur of admiration ran through the company which gathered around me as I held the treasure in my trem-hl'nc trem-hl'nc hands. "This is for Bart, too," Uncle Peabody Pea-body shouted as he took down a bolt of soft blue cloth and laid it in my arms. "Now there's somethin' that's .lest about as slick as a kitten's ear. Feel of it. It's for a suit o' clothes. Come all the way from Burlington. Now get-ap there. You've got your load." I moved out of the way in a hurricane hurri-cane of merriment. It was his one great day of pride and vanity. He did not try to conceal them. The other presents floated for a moment mo-ment in this irresistible tide of laugh- i "From Santa Claus for Bart!" Kate sat by the side of my aunt and wt were all surprised at her good manners. man-ners. We jested and laughed and drank cider and reviewed the year's history and ate as only they may eat who have big bones and muscles and the vitality of oxen. I never taste the flavor of sage and currant jelly or hear a hearty laugh without thinking of those holiday holi-day dinners in the old log house on Rattleroad. That Christmas brought me nothing better than those words, the memory of which is one of the tallest towers in that long avenue of my past down which I have been looking' these many days. About all you can do for a boy, worth while, Is to give him something good to remember. The day had turned dark. The temperature tem-perature had risen and the air was dank and chilly. The men began to hitch up their horses. So, one by one, the sleighloads left us with cheery good-bys and a grinding grind-ing of runners and a jingling of bells. When the last had gone Uncle Peabody Pea-body and I went into the house. Aunt Deel sat by the stove, old Kate by the window looking out at the falling dusk. How still the house seemed 1 "There's one thing I forgot," I said as I proudly took out of my wallet the six one-dollar bills which I had earned by working Saturdays and handed three of them to my aunt and three to my uncle, saying: "That is my Christmas present to you. I earned it myself." I remember so well their astonishment astonish-ment and the trembling of their hands and the look of their faces. "It's grand ayes !" Aunt Deel said in a low tone. She rose in a moment ancLbeckoned to me and my uncle. We followed her through the open door to the other room. "I'll tell ye what I'd do," she whispered. whis-pered. "I'd give 'em to ol' Kate |