Democratic Sentinel, Volume 1, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 September 1877 — THE CRAMM WELL. [ARTICLE]

THE CRAMM WELL.

It in doubtful if Mr. Ben Bates would defend strikes, or if he were interested in the pros and cons of such questions; but, all "the same, he blessed his stars that a strike occurred on the Grand Bight and Left railway on a certain day; that the employes felt imperative need of an increase of wages; that the managers didn’t see it; and so, whether or no the end justified the means, it none the less conspired to promote his happiness. It was the afternoon train out of Hamburg, advertised to reach Nova Zambia at 0.45. Mr. Bates, being somewhat of a stranger in the State, drawn to Nova Zembla by rumors of oil wells and fortunes bubbling out of the earth, was naturally ignorant that the strikers had ■•publicly given Avarning that they should leave their trains at 4 o’clock p. m., until ho overheard a gentleman, leaving at a way-statioii, say to his friend: “You had better not attempt to go homo to-night, but put up with us; the engineers strike at 4p. m., you know.” “ Strike !” echoed the typical old lady, with her traditional bandboxes and l uiudlos to look after. “I’d like to know who they’re going to strike. Two can play at that gamo, I reckon. What are they going to strike for ?” “For higher wages, marin. If you calculated to go beyond Little Bassett, you’ll have to walk the balance,” volunteered a passenger. “Me walk! Haven’t I paid my fare through? Walk, indeed ! I’ll have the law of ’em first.” “But this train Avon’t go through tonight,”

“ None of your quizzing, young saucebox ! Haven't I been over this ’ere road every year since my hair took to falliug oil', to buy a new Avig, dating from the time Eben put the Gabrielle front to the old house ? Ami I’ve never kuowed them not to git to Nova Zembla when they’d oughter ” But just then the train stopped, and so did the old lady. It Avas 4 o’clock exactly. “ I suppose there’s an inn at hand?” asked Mr. Bates of a native bystander, whom he found loafing upon the platform. “ Devil a bit ! Little Bassett’s run to oil, stranger.” “ We’re not expected to put up in an oil-well?” “ You might faro worse. There’s the Traveler’s Haven, but the landlord lie had it carted oif for to bore for oil in the old cellar; it’s on Avheelg yet, a piece up the lane there. Mayb{!> they’d take you iu; I duuno.” * Mr. Bates strolled up the pretty lane and into the Traveler’s Haven— Avliicli had, perhaps, caught the spirit of gaddiug from its guests— and interrupted a slovenly Avoman in the act of scolding. “Didn’t I toll you, miss, I’d cut the ears oil your head if you cracked another dish iLJili ? Hoav are you going to pay lor it ? Who do you suppose’d put up with your goings on if 1 Avas to turn you adrift? Nobody iu Little Bassett ’d give you house-room for a week.” “1 am so sorry,” was the soft answer. “I’ll he more careful again.” “Aud high time, too—you that I snatched out of the almshouse, so to speak, and did for ever since you was 4. What would you have (been but for me? Aud a pretty return you make, abreaking all the crockery helter-skelter ! O—h! Good-day, sir. Lodgings ?” Avith a decided change of tone. “Bosy dear, slat yourself, and get the gentleman a room ready; and you might wring the neck of the cropple-croAvn hen Avliilo you’re about it. I dare say lie’s hungry.”

“Yob,” said Rosy, lifting a pair of appealing eyes to tho stranger’s. “ No, no,” cried Ben, heroically, “don’t kill anything forme. Tea and toast is a supper for a King. ” It pained him to add another straw to the burdens this dejected girl was already carrying —this girl in the garments and position of a menial, yet who bore herself like one of gentle blood. “You see,” apologized Mr. Cramm, the landlord, when lie came in, “we ain't had time to settle, owing to the Newell. Tavern-keeping don’t pay in Little Bassett, but ile does. Maybe you was thinking of buying, eh ?” Ben was thinking of it, he explained, but Little Bassett had not been his destination. “Maybe you was guided here by Providence.” “ Perhaps so,” said Ben. “ Pity you hadn’t been round a month ago, afore Deacon Davis parted with his place. He got down-hearted, and sold out for a good figger; but it turned out the article handsomely afterward, and the deacon’s that mad he could jump into a bramble-bush. Put sometimes, you see, it’s all a poor fellow can do to sell out when he ain’t got capital to work it. ‘ The destruction of the poor is their poverty,’ so tho Seriptur tells us.” “Yes?” said Ben, his eyes following Rosy on her way from the milking-shed with two foaming pails. Ben could hardly have told why he staid on in Little Bassett from day to day-; whether the neighborhood of such oil as must have burned in Aladdin’s wonderful lamp or tho subtle persuasions of Landlord Cramm k< pt him spell-bound in the rustic village, with its pretty river trickling to the sea, and its background of spicy woods, where the tinkle of cow-bells seemed like music blown from fairy-land. At least he did not put the question to himself. He had been making a tour of the different oil wells one afternoon, and, coming home through tho Bassett woods, he fell in with Rosy. “ After flowers ?” asked Ben. “Isn’t it growing dark ? Hadn’t you better turn back with me ?” “I must find Jetty first,” replied Rosy. “ And who may Jetty be ?” “Jetty is the cow ; she Strays away

and gets lost in the woods. Last year I couldn’t find her till after 9 one night.” “And you were here alone at that hour?” “It was bright moonlight.” “ And supposing there had been no moon ?” “ I must have staid till I found her, moon or no moon. Hark! did I hear her bell?” “ Perhaps we may find her sooner together. May Igo with you ?” “Yes, I suppose you may.” They strolled on, the young moon casting weird shadows and peopling the wood with fantastic shapes; and sometimes they forgot why they were there, and sometimes a frightened bird brushed the dew from the tangle, or the faint melody of a bell stirred the silence and" quickened their steps. It was after 8 when they drove old Jetty home, and Ben had been surprised more than once by the speech that fell from Rosy’s pretty lips. She knew the old poets, whom young ladies of the period disdain to cultivate. She was at home with Scott, and familiar with the tenets of the elder theologians. “You told me that you had never been to school,” said Ben, “bat somebody has taught you. There is no royal road to knowledge.” “ Yes; Parson Psalter’s wife taught me to read and writo, and she gave me little presents for learning verses by heart. She used to borrow me of Mrs. Gramm to read to her when her dear old eyes failed. Yes, and when she died she left mo all her hooks.”

Ben was more than ever interested in the subject of oil as the days went by. He listened to the enthusiastic raptures of Little Bassett, aud was persuaded that this was the tide which leads on to fortune. So lie staid on and on, learning the minutiae of this method of coining money, helping Bosy carry her brimming pails to the dairy, or bring the butter—for Mrs. Cramm was not one to allow milk to sour ou her hands, whatever the prospect which the oil well afforded. Ben had inherited a certain sum of money from a distant cousin, who, Avith his child, had disappeared from the sight of men years ago ; now jie informed Mr. Gramm he Avished to invest it in oil. “I’ll tell you what I’ll do by ye,” said that disinterested soul. “ I’ve took a mighty liking to you, and so has Miss Cramm ; there’s my well, I’m a thundering poor man, Mr. Bates, and I’m working it at a disadvantage. I’m awfully in debt, to tell the truth. I’m mortgaged up to my chin, and I don’t hev no peace for fear of a keeper in the house,.and a-being brought to disgrace afore my neighbors—and these womenfolks to look after. Noav, mark my word, somebody’s got to make a fortune out of that ’ere well, and I’d rather it ’d be you, Mr. Bates, than anybody, as it won’t be Jim Gramm ; if you’ve got the means you couldn’t do better than to take this ’ere elephant off my hands.” “ Thanks,” said Ben. “ I’ll think about it. Whereupon the merits of the Cramm Avell were so adroitly celebrated that Ben began not only to think, but to talk about it. One eveuing, a week later, Avlien Ben went to his room, a folded slip of paper under his candlestick attracted his attention. Thinkiug it might be a delicate fashion of Landlord Cramm to present his bills iu this way, he opened and read, Mu. Bates— Do not buy the “Cramm well.” You will be sorry if you do. A Kind Friend. Mr. Bates smiled broadly. He would show it to Mr. Cramm at breakfast, and have a laugh over the device of some rival striker; but morning brought wiser counsel. Was it not a woman’s hand! Perhaps Bosy’s; aud, if so, might it not deserve attention ? When he Avent forth to smoke, after breakfast, he encountered Bosy in the garden patch, picking peas for dinner. “ All, here is my‘kind friend,”’ he hazarded, holding out his hand. Bosy started and blushed. “ How came you to send me that warning, Bosy ?” he pursued. “ What do you know about the Cramm well ?” “I?” she asked, Avith ill-feigned surprise. “ What made you think I sent it ?” “Did you not?” Bosy hung her head, and tears filled her eyes. “Was it very wicked in me?” she asked. ‘‘ I could uot bear you should be beggared by them. You are the only one avlio lias ever been kind to me since dear Mrs. Psalter died. What coidd I do ? At least you Avon’t Avuste your money for naught.” “ But what evil do you know of the Cramm Avell? Why should I not purchase ?’’ “ Oil, you see, Mr. Bates, when they found it a mistake, a false strike, why—they—they doctored it! They brought oil on the sly, and brought the pump Avith it, don’t you see ? I heard them talking of it between themselves after I was in bed at night; it was Mrs. Cramm’s idea ; the walls are thin, and I couldn’t sleep, I was so tired. If you buy it, they mean to pack off before you can find out that the Avell’s a humbug. And I thought, maybe, you had notliiug but the money you would put iuto it, and 1 couldn’t stand by and sec you swindled, and not say a word.” “ I thank you; but, my dear girl,your Avarning comes too late. I have already bought the Cramm well.” “ But you will make them take it bach? You will go to law about it? ” “ I think not.” Mr. Bates Avas in a quandary. If lie took tlie IaAV in liis hands, ljfffy would be called upon for her testimony, and would not the fact that she had preferred the interest of a stranger to that of her adopted parents tell against this simple child, even though she had acted rightly in the matter? Furthermore, avouul it not cast her adrift upon the world, and was he prepared to offer her a local habitation and a name ?

“I hope you’ll get rich as mud,” said Mistress Cramm, on the following day, “ and remember them as set you on the road-to fortune, Mr. Bates. Jim and me thinks of trying Californy for my asthmy.” “ Will your daughter go with you?” asked Ben. “Rosy? She ain’t no daughter of mine, though, land knows I’ve been a mother to her. You see, its nigh lifteen years ago since a gentleman put up to the Traveler’s Haven with a little gal about four. He had no baggage to mention, had lost his trunk on the road, but guessed it would turn up. ** He was a proper, nice-looking man, with eye-glass-es like yours, Mr. Bates; and it appears lie got up early and went out, aud whether he went into the river for a bath, or a-purpose, nobody knew; but there he was drownded, and the little gal that couldn’t tell nothing but that her name was Rosy left on our hands without a change to her back. Nobody could find out who they was; there wasn’t no clew amongst their things, and no marks on their clothes; and so we’ve had to do for her ever since, and there’s no end to what she owes us.” “ Fifteen years ago; a gentleman and child named Rosy,” mused Ben. “ Fifteen years ago this blessed month. Jim he pawned the gentleman’s watch to buy Rosy clothes; but there was an odd sort of seal on tho chain. Maybe you’d like to see it ?” “ I should like to borrow it for a while,” said Ben, after examining it closely. ‘ You may have it for a trifle, if you’ve took a fancy to it. We’ve spent enough on ( Rosy to buy a dpgen such.” “I’ll give yqq your price,” said Ben; and just tl]eg ijim Cramm was brought in with broken leg—and they didn’t go fcg Mrs. Jim’s asthma. Jf W| a year since those events occurred,

Retribution has overtaken Mr. and Mrs. Cramm. “ I want to tell you a story,” Ben said to Rosy, the other day. “ I once had a distant cousin who disappeared mysteriously with his little daughter after having started upon a journey. He was advertised for by his distant relatives, and sought for in vain. The child was 4 years old at the time. Her name was Rosy. She had blue eyes and auburn hair like yours. By the supposed death of these two I came into possession of a certain sum of money, which, having accumulated during my minority, enabled me to buy the Cramm well, as you know. Contrary to our expectations, yours and mine, Rosy, the well has netted its owner a fortune, since it was not a false strike, as Mr. Cramm supposed. But I find Jam not the owner.” ' “ You not the owner!” cried Rosy. “Then who is?” “ You, Rosy; you are the owner of the Cramm well.” “I ? What do yon mean ? I the OAvner of the well ?” “ Yon have heard the story of your introduction at the Traveler’s Haven, and your father’s tragic end ? The seal upon liis chain was of curious workmanship. Mrs. Cramm had preserved it, and when she allowed me to take it I carried it to my father, and the missing link was snpElied. It proved the sac-simile of one e had given my cousin, even to the monogram J. B.—John Bates. Is it not plain that your father and my cousin are one, and that the Cramm well belongs to you, his daughter, Rosy?” “I suppose it must be true, if you think so,” said Rosy. “But yon must let me divide with you; you must keep the well.” ‘‘On one condition, Rosy. That you give yourself with it.” And Rosy did not quarrel with the condition.— Harper's Bazar.