Ligonier Banner., Volume 15, Number 50, Ligonier, Noble County, 31 March 1881 — Page 3

Che Ligonier Lammner, LIGO‘I*TI.I«I::.‘OLI:‘. Ed:nor M . Il;::)plANA

GONE AWAY. : I will not think of thee as cold and dead, Low-lyingin the grasve that I can see, g I would not stand beside when life had fled And left thy body only there for me. I never saw thee with thy pale arms crossed On that unbeating heart that was mine own, They only told me all that I bad lost : When from thy breast thy lovely soul had - flown. - Thou wert not that! and so I turned away, And left the house, when other mourners v stflf'ed: Nor did [ come on that unhappy day Wh;en“}n the tomb that dreadful thing was a AL . e To me thou art not dead, but gone an hour Into another country fair ana sweet, Where thou shalt by some undiscovered power Be keptin youth and beauty till we meet. Thus I can feel that any given day . : I could rejoin thee, gone awhile before To foreign climes, to pass dull weeks away By wandering on the broad Atlantic shore; Where eugh long wave that breaks upon the san . Bears thee a message from me waiting here And e]vext'ly breath spring breathes across the Secms as asign that thou are lingering hear. So I will think of thee as living there, | And I will. keep thy grave in sweetest bloom As if thou gavest a garden to my care : E’érthou depa_rteg from our Knglish gloom, Then when m{ day is done, and I too die, - "Twill be as if I journeyed to thy side; And when all quiet we together lie - Weshall not know that we bave ever died. £ —AI the Year Round.

ON THE EDGE OF THE WORLD, We had gone up into the wilds of northern Maive, equipped with snow-shoes and rifies, in search of winter sport. Ned Hal iday, my 2omrade, had a slight pretext for the trip in the shape of business, his father own ngalagge amount of laud in the Aroostook which m\,efied looking after. My excuse for what secemed to strike my friends as an eccentric pleasure trip to be taken in the dead of winter, was t}mt my health had become impaired by the toils and trials of my profession-—whicu consisted pr.ncipally of industrious waiting for clients who ‘ never came. . : Our journey had not been free from those obstacles which are supposed ito give a zest to any pursnit. -We were ‘‘snowed up’’ on the railroad until food and fuel were exhausted; the stage, which appeared when the railroad ended, relieved the monotony of the proceedings several times by standing on its head in a snow drift; and the driver, who was totally insensible to the claims of the Maine law, ended by imitating this acrobati¢ feat, and Ned and I reluctantly dug him out. But when the horses were fired into nob e rage to distingush themselves in the rame way, we concluded to abandon the whole eccentric establishment to its own devices and struck acrosa the country on our snow-shoes. Justas we Were becoming thoroughly tired we overtook an ox-team and on this primitive conveyance, drawn by two béasts in whom the phlegmatic temperament of their kind was ‘abnormally developed, we rode ten miles with the thermometer at twenty degrees below zero. Our driver was a large, loose-jointed youth with an astonishingly prominent Adam’s apple and a bony grin. He was loquacious but non-com-mittu?: afrer the fasuion of the rural New, Englander. The first time that he committed himself-to a decided opinion was when he declared that * them critters hav’n’t a two forty -gait,”’ and tbat‘‘ riding on an ox-team isn’t, goin’ licketty-split, the best way you can fix it.” Which statements could not be saidito afford opportunity for argument. Continued inquiries respecting the game in | the woods only elicited the information that it wa’'n’t so skurse as it was some winters, but skurser than it was some others.’” o Hereluctantly admitted that his Christian ‘ name was Leander, but seemed to be possessed of a stern (;emlminatxpn never to Bpe 80 f()ol-v‘ hardy as to reveal his surname. He asked us two hundred and seventy-nine questions (Ned «counted them) in a peculiarly indirect manner, they being invariably prefaced by the announcement that he didn’t ‘‘calkilate’ that it was so. Having exhausted the subjects of our aims and destination, occgpations and familv history, style and eost 0# our clothing, political, ‘religious and temperance opinions, price of wood and provisions ‘‘our way,’”’ probable future progress of the potato bug and ‘the re<onstruction policy, he remarked that he'didn’t 4¢ calkilate’? that we ‘“ set no great by a hunk ‘of raw salt pork.” : : | We assurred him that his calculation was quite correct, and waited for an explanation without manifesting any undue curiosity. After a pensive silence of some minutes he explained that it was the staple article of diet in the logging camps, and it would therefore be prudent for us to provideé ourselves with crackers and ‘‘ canned stuff”’ before venturing out to the camp. He was kind enough to further explain that these luxuries might be ob}ained in hpis‘father’s store at Jonesville.

It was joyvful news when Leander ‘* calkilated” that at the top of the next hill Jonesville would ‘‘heave in sight;’’ a cheeriul sight to see the lights from its windows twinkling through the gathering darkness. 1t was not a thickly settled village. * Scartterin’,” the adjective which Leander applied to it, was appropriate. It seemed to be clinging to the skirts of the forest primeval and was sheltered by it from the north wind; under the shadow of the mighty pines and half buried in the snow drifts the houses looked as if they must be inhabited by pigmiesi. The school-house—which Leander facetiofisly called the ** education shop,”—with one tail hemlock standing directly in front of it, looked as it it had just come out of a tey village. 'The graveyard, on the slope of a steep hill upon which the last, cold, pale-yellow sunset rays cast a weird light, gave us an uneasy impression that the sleepers were lying in very uncomfortable positions. The *¢ tarvern” was a small farm-house with a very large barn overshadowing it and a tall %iue tree standing sentinel at its front gate, here was no sign signifying that it afforded entertainment for travelers, but, relying upon Leander’s assurance that ** Uncle 'Bijah Jones" would *‘ eat us and sleep us,’’ we walked boldly up to the door. An old man, his head haloed by tobacco smoke, opened thedoor. His manner was very much like Leander’s on short acquaintance—inquisitive but wary. * Our inquiry whether his house was a tavern seemed to plunge him into profound perplexity. He. took his pipe out of his mouth and knocked it medijtatively against the door before he replied: - ‘* Well, folks kind o’ calkilate that ’t is. We do put ’em up some, to obleege ’em.”’ —VEe signified that he would ‘‘ obleege’ us extremely by ‘‘ putting us up.” i ‘‘ Mebbe you’d better step in and talk to Mis’ Jones. Mis’Jones, shedon’t like to hev folks come unbeknownst.’’ : ‘‘ But can’t we see Mr. Jones, the proprietor?”’ askéd Ned, impatiently. -Standing in the teeth of the north wind with the marrow freezing in one’s bones, the indecisive Jonesville manner is trying to the patience. L - “I’'m Mr. Jones, but Mis’ Jones she—she—she’s terrible smart.” Mr. Jones had evidently been on the point of acknowledging that Mis’ Jones was the proprietor, but had remembered his dignity just in time. . ; Inhis embarrassment he forgot to delay long--er and ushered us at once into a large room in one end of which was a blazing wood fire, in the other end an unsighfl{lair-tight stove. ‘“ You jest set down in the company eend. Mis’ Jones, she’d be terrible put outif I let {gu set down in the common folks’ eend. Mirandy, she takes on because we don’t give up the fire-place, bein’ it’s so ongenteel, and hev another stove; but Gram, she Wouidn’t feel to home without the fire-place, and she’s kind o’ gittin’ along in years, Gram is. She’s ninety-nine—will be a hundred come spring—gnd ,l:llis’ Jones feels as if we’d oughter humor er.’” (i 8 : ‘We had espied & tiny old woman almost hidden in the depths of a cushioned rocking chair. She wore a kind of skull cap of black silk only Yartiall( covering her head, which was entirey guiltless of hair and looked as if it were polished bone. A pair of little, sharp black eges feered at us from a yellow, bony face. She ooked lik&nothm 80 much as the witches which ch mnmain for fairs with a walnut

We turned back to the ‘‘ company eend” re- 1 luctantly, but we did turn, E»r we had received a forcible impression that it would not be well for us tohave Mis’ Jones *‘ put out.”’ We looked wistfully back at the cheery fire and caught the keen black eyes of the queer figure in the rocking chair bent curious?y upon us It was hard to understand how they could have preserved such brightness and keenness after peering into the mystery of life for almost ninety-nine years. : ‘ Mis’ Jones’ presently made her appearance—not the' woman outwardly that our fancy had pictured; she was little and light-haired and mild of aspect, but before long we espied a spark in the depths of her light-blue eyes that reminded us of the tang that lurks in a certain mild sweet wine. : , She showed us to our rooms, bleak and bare regions where fires were evidently unknown, and mountainous feather beds piled one above another were the only signs of an attempt at Bu! ixer manuner was as soft as her feather beds, and she had been a pretty woman once and still showed de beauz reste¥, and Ned declared that if she tyrannized over old Jones it was without doubt because he deserved it. When we went down stairs weé found the supper-table set midway between the ‘‘company eend’’ and the “c mmon folks’ eend” witn strict impartiality. Our seats were at the ‘‘company eend,’”’ and we shared this distinetion with an affable and assured young man whom Mis’ Jones introduced as the schoolmaster. ‘‘My niece, Mirandy,” an angular young woman with a profusion of corkscrew r nglets. favored us with coguetish smiles, evidently with a view to disturbing the schoolmas'er’s peace; and we saw with alarm that Mis’ Jones observed this and that the spark in her eye grew livelier and livelier as she regarded us s cadfastly—poor, guiltless creatures who had not had the least intention of flirting with Mirdandy! As we rose from Ihe table the little, witc:h—\yike old woman beckoned me toward her with a mysterious air. * Wishin’ and doin’, the Lord he reckons ’em jest the same and drowned folks never come up!” she said. . Af ersupper Mr. Jones approached us with an air of importance. : : , | “If you wouldn’t take it unkindly and haint no pertikler objections; Mis’ Jones she’d be obleeged to ye if ye would| set in the common folks™-eend to-night. You see the schoolmaster, he’s kind of edgin’ round Mirandy and it -would be pooty considable of a spee for Mirandy to git him. Mis’ Jones, she’s high-mind-ed and she’s set her heart on Mirandy’s gittin’ a minister or a schoolmaster and she’s terrible anxious. When they’re ‘just beginning to edge round they’re scairt off terrible easy, you know. 'They’ve been a doin’ their courtin’ in the company eend, and there haint no other place; and you know vourselves, that it's terrible kind of flusterin’ and upsettin’ to hev folks roynd a starin’ and a gawkin’ where there’s courtin’ goin’ on. It’s flusterin’ business -anyhow, courtin’ is. I got so worked up a doin’ mine that I haint never been exactly clear in my mind about who spoke the word, Mis’ Jones or mes I shouldn’t want you to mention it to her, but I’'ve always run of an idee that she helped me along considerable.”’ . We assured him that his confidence was sacred and expressed our sense of the propriety of having the ‘‘ company eend” strictly devoted to courting.. ‘ We stole but one sly glance toward the ¢ eompany eend” in the course of the evening. That revealed to us the ringlets of Miss Mirandy in close proximity to the schoolmaster’s coat collar—from which we inferred that Mss Jones’ ‘* high minded’’ hopes were destined to fulfillment. Our hostess hoped that we would excuse her, as there was to be a neighborhood * prayer meetin’ to Deacon Jones’’ and she felt it to be both a duty and a privilege to go. As ‘OBijah” didn’tseem to feel a * call to go,”’ he would entertain us. : “Mr. Jones’ spirits seemed to rise with the depaiture of his better half; he lost his air of indecision and timidity and became brisk and voluble. He produced a convivial-looking brown pitcher, representing a jolly Dutchman with a capacious stomach, and announced that it contained cider which didn’t *‘ taste no great of rotten apples, nor yit of the kag;” which was the Jonesville non-committal way of saying.that it was nectar fit for the gods. A dish of great, smooth-cheeked, mellow apples, streaked with carmine and gold, he brought forward next; and remarked that they were ‘“ not what "you could call gnurly,” and he ‘ guessed ** the sun hadn’t had no spite agin lem.’! , t We ventured to suggest that it might be considered a slight to offer no refreshments to the ‘‘ company eend,’”’ but Mr. Jones shook his head sagely, : ¢ It’s terrible onsafe to meddle or make with courtin’,’’ he said. ‘I aint a-sayin’ nothin’ agin it when it’s on your own hook. I aint a-givin’ no advice, though there is them that has a vocation for matrimony and them that haint. The ’postle Paul, he gin advice. I leave it toyou to jedge whether or no the ’postle Paul would be likely to gin good advice.. But Ja!it aint no use a-talkin’, merryin’ is like | hangin’, them that’s born to it will ketch it and there aint no help for ’em.” This philosophical reflection was accompanied by a sigh in the depths of Mr. Jones’ cider 11H],‘%".“ R o = e i b d

¢ What do they keer for cider and anples?” he pursued, settinz down his mug. *‘ For the time bein’ their minds is above ’em. And I might break in upon ’em an unpropityous | minute, when Mirandy was a-brinein’ him to the pint, She’s a terrible smart girl, Mirandy is—takes after her aunt—>but the schoolmaster, | he’s oncommon skittish about comin’ to the pint, and Mis’ Jones, she cautioned me. Mis’ Jones, she’s got an oncommon understandin’, and I wouldn’t want you to mention it in her hearin’, but she’s apt to be a trifle techy with them that haint, which haint her fault nor surprisin’.”? ; Myr. -‘Jones sighed profoundly, apparently at his own lack of * understandin’,”” and took a long pull at the cider, as if to fortify himself against Mis’ Jones’ ¢ techiness.” ‘“Gram,” in a corner of the fireplace, alternately slept and clicked her knitt ng needles like miad. Every time that she awoke she bent her keen little black eyes upon me, summoned me nearer by an imperious wave of her knitfing needle, and repeated her mysterious communications in a monotonous tone, as if it were a formulpa that she had learned by heart. ‘“Wishin’ and doin’, the Lord reckons ’em jus't7 ’t-he same, and drowned folks never come up! » $ ‘“l.don’t understand,”” I said once, curious to discover what was working in that old brain which had lent itself to dreams and realities for so manly years until at last the two had become hopelessly iutermingled ; and it ocdurred to me that perhaps she was not so very different from many of us in that respect. - ‘“Understand? Of course you don’t understand. Nobody understands! Some folks says ’t was more than wishin’, ’t was doin’. Maybe ’t was. T was so long ago that I’ve forgot and [ guess the Lord has forgot.””. We asked several leading questions, but she -seemed suddenly to remember herse!f, looked suspiciously at us and was silent, arousing herself after a moment and asking inw rational way if it was ‘ thiekly settled” where we *‘ came from,’”” and saying she supposed we ** enjoy great privileges.” We understood that privileges referred wholly to religious things, but before we had time to answer Gram had dozed off again. Mr. Jones remarked, meditatively : ‘‘ There’s so much religion agoin’ nowadays that I don’t séem to get hold of nons. When I was young there wa’n’t but two kinds} if you " wa'n’t a ’lectioneer you was free grace and that was all there was on’t, and free grace only come round once a year, when there was a i camp-meet’'n down to Schooteague. You see in them days we was livin’, as you mlp;;ht say, on the edge of the world. There didn’t seem to be nothin’ beyond us. Even arter the military road was built folks seemed to run of an idee that ® went clear’n off into space arter.it ‘l got by here. They called this the jumpin’-off-place of all creation. Of eourse folks knew that the Provinces was beyond us, but the Provinces - is furrin’ parts as you might say, and they haint of much account; they’re backardin education and behind the times ginerally. But we haint always been what we air now. Things is considable more stirrin’ here than they was when I was aboy, and when my father settled here seventy-five yea's ago there wa'n’t nobody here but lumbermen and Injins. But bein’ on-the river so ’twas favorable for lo§-zin’, and the sile is p%oty middlin’ and when folks bégun to come others follered. Sometimes there’d be two houses built ina year and when a place grows as fast ' as that what we’ve come to ain’t surprisin’.”’ Our host evidently refarded ‘Jonesville as a center of commerce and *‘ education,’’ and expected ua to be amazed at its small beginnings.

“Deacon Jones,’ he says there’s great danger in our worldly prosperity. He’s afeared folks will give their hearts to it. He’s always a tellin’ that the pleasures of the world is all yen ‘er grass.” : o ‘‘Yender grass?’ we repeated in bewilderment. : ; “Don’t you know when iou’re a mowin’ poor grass beyend always looks a dredful sight/ better, but when you git there it's ali of a poorness? The deacon, he says the pleasures of the world is all jest so deceivin’, and mebbe they be. Ihaint so pious-as I'd ought to be. Mis’ Jones, shé’s so terrible pious that I don’t séem to git no chance.” The mention of Mis’ Jones always drove her husband to the cider mug. When he emerged he went on in a more cheerful tone: *“Them fust settlers didn’t hev no worldlg prosperity to contend with. I expect col .and Injins and bears a'nt so dangerous, but they’re more tryin’ to the nateral man. Them fust settlers was tough-fisted fellers; they fit a good fight, and they don’t geem to &' found life sech a bad job as some arter all, and there is comfort to be took for all folks’ grumblin’. We've all on us got our troubles, but sometimes they zo off anid leave us for a spell’’—bhere Mr. Jones cast an uneasy glance towards the door as if his trouble’ mi:ht be expected to walk in at any moment—*‘ and then we realize what enjovment is. And even cretur com-. forts, sech as a good fire and a mug of cider, aint to be despised. i ‘“As I was a-sayin’, folks here in them old times used to take comfort and to hev about as much goin’ on as if they lived in the thickest of the world insted of on the edge on’t. “I’ve heerd my father tell of funny doin’s amongst ’em—and of some that wa’n’t so funny. When a felier come amongst ’em that hadn’t got the right stuff in him, or was too high-minded and hankered arter a tooth-brush and scented soap, them lumbermen didn’t handle him as if he was eggs. There was Orlando Perry,—l've lheerd my father teil how they served him. He was a slick little chap from down river, and his father was a jedge; he’d been considerable wild and they sent him up here to g.t him out of mischicf. He wore store close and iled his hair and was as prettyspoken as a school-master. Them things mebbe they could a’ stood; but when he stuck an eye-glass onto his nose and courted Patty Hutehins;, them two things was too much tobear. Patty Hutchins, she was the puttiest and the smartest girl in Number Eight—there wa’n’t no towns up here then, you know ; they was all deestricts and went by th:ir numbers—and the fellers, they didn’t like the idee of hevin’ her kerried off by a stranger and a littl: kid glove of a chap inter the bargain. Hewas a terrible bard drinker and given 1o gamblin’, buc his slickness and his stoie close went a long ways with the gals, as they're apt o with women folks. The iellers, they played consilable many tricks on him without s¢emin’ to take him down a mite till one day when he set on the deacon’s seat up in ‘'one of the loggin’ camps aplayin’ keerds. Them loggin. camps has a smoke-lioie as-big as all out doors, and an ash tree growed so nigh tuis one that they tiel a rope onter the end of one of the branchesand let it down through the smoke-hole. It was young and soople, the: branch was, and then while Orlando had his mind sot on the keerds 80’t he didn’t notice nothin’ they contirved to fasten the rope ’'round him under his arms: then they let gb and kerslap he went, yanked clear’n out torough the smoke-hole and a danglin’in the air. . And they kep him danglin’ there til he’d agreed to sign the pledge and quit courtin’ Patty Hutchins. ’ ‘ He kep’ his word, and he didn’t stay long arter that. But there! mebbe 'twould a’ been better if he had. If Patty Hutchins had a’ merried him perhaps it wouldn’t a’ been no worse.?? : /

Mr. Jones had the important air of one who has a marvelous story to tell, but waits to be urged.: : ‘ Tell us all about Patty Hekchiins,” we said encouragingly. : ; ‘“—Sh! Meobe I hadn’t better,”” he replied, with an uneasy glance at Gram, who was stirring in her sleep. * Gram, she might wake, and she’s apt to git worked up about them old stories. But mebbe I can think to speak low and if you wont mention it to Mis’ Jones—"" Being assured that nothing would induce us to reveal it to Mis’ Jones, our host moved his chair nearer to us andbegan: ‘ As Iwas a’ sayin’, Patty Hutchins was the poottiest gal in the deestrict; she wa’n’t bigger’n a pint of cider, bat she was red-and-white complected and her feturs was as harn-. some as a doll’s and she had black eyes that would look you clear!n through to your backbone, and I’ve often heered ’em tell how she ‘ used to dance. She was jestas light as a hummin’ bird and vou couldn’t tire her out. | . ** Of course she had her pick among the fellers, and folks was Kind of ’sorised when she picked out Saul Eldridge. For . Saul had the name of bein’ terrible odd., He was a great big six-footer and he couhf lick his weight in wild cats—mebbe you’ve noticed that the female heart seems to set by size and heft in a man. And his bigness done Saul another good ' turn, too; folks didn’t dare to ' chaff him much about his odd freaksto his face; butthey done all the more of it behind his back. Saul wa’n’t sociable, in a gineral way; he was fond of his own company and he’d se" and play ou his fiddle by the hour, and they did say that he used to play so’st to draw teurs from folks’ eyes. : ‘ He set a sight by that fiddle and some on ’em gaid he used to talk to it as if 'twas a livin’ ereetur. But when folks begins to talk about anybody they like to tell as good a story as they can, and mebbe that wa'n’t so. But Saul was odd and no mistake. He thought more of dumb animiles and little young ones than he did of folks. They said that he only jesthadto call the birds and they’d come flyin’ Tound him:and even light on his head and shoulders; and he tamed some bears’ cubs so that they followed him round like dogs. He couldn’t bear to kill nuthin’; he never went huntin’, and some says thag he never ate no meat: but I'ain’t sure about that. L “ But for all his queerness he was as brave ~and manly a feller as there was ’round. But nobody ever thought of his takin’ a shine to a - gal, he was kind of unsociable. He! acted as if he was afraid on ’em and he wouldn’t go to 'no parties where they was. But Patty Hutchins, she cooked his goose for him! The fust I time that he see her he was possessed arter her. Folks reckoned she wouldn’t hev him, but reckonin’ on women folks is mighty onsartin business. And I run of an idee that ‘they’re dretful apt to'set by a man that’s got a weak spot. _ . ‘“ Anyhow, Patty loved him like a house a-fire; she gin him her promise and they was like two turtle doves—till one day Saul run a-foul of a little Injin baby. : ! % You see there was some Injins wanderin’ 'round, campin’ fust in one place and then in another; they took a notion to move acrosst the river and they dropped this baby in the .woods on the way. Mebbe they d.dn’t do it a-purpose, but they never come-back to look -arter it. It appeared that 't was a baby that thadn’t no mother and there didn’t seem to ‘be nobody in Fertikler to look arter it and what is g{nera.l y looked arter haint apt to be looked arter at all. . .

‘ltlaughed up in Saul’s face when he picked /it up, and kind of clutched at his whiskers, playful. Baul, he fetched it to the loggin’ camp—that was all the home he had—and fed it aud tended it as gentle as a woman, never mindin’ nothin’ about the men’s jokin’. A great jokin’ they kep’ up, and so did the: hull settiement. They thought he’d ought to kerry it to some poor-house or ’sylum down river. ‘hat he wouldn’t. Then arter a spell some Injins aown to Oldtown offered to take it ‘but he wouldn’t agree to that. You see he was tenderhearted and the little thing kind of clung to him and he got to settin’ by it. 'Twas @ little gal, and goin’ on two years old when he found her. 'T wan’t a harnsome child; ’t was as black ag,your shoe and it favored a monkey. But Saul seemed to take to anything that was kind of helpless and clingin’, and the little Injin she learned to be terrible fond of him, as was nateral. : ‘“ Patty Hutchins, she was in a terrible takin’. Patty was high-minded and she couldn’t bear to hev folks crack their jokes at Saul, and she was kind of jealous-tempered too. She . was afeared the little Injin was a weanin’ Saul’s affections away from her. She said she was sure she wa’if’t goin’ to hev no little Injin round in her house and Saul must take his chlice atween her and it. : _“Saul, he wag dretful worked up. He set his life by Patty, but that little young one kind of : v confided in him, and he sot by her too. ; & When Patty see that he wa'n't agoin’ to give the young one up even for her sake she was poot{Y mad and she said he needn’t never come nigh her again. But arter a spell she kind of come round & lttle. Saul he coaxed and coaxed, and sbe’d £ound out that it wa'n’t

quite so easy for her to give him up. She wa’n’t the kind that has their hearts all ready for an'{ man that comesalong. She’d gin hern’ to Saul and she didn’t seem to know how to take it back again; but sihe hated that little Injin like pison! Saul used to bring the young one’long of him when he come out to the river with logs, because there wa’n’t nobody to take care of it in camp, but he used to leave it toone of the neighbors when he went to see Patty; she wouldn’t hev it in the house. And she wouldn’t merry him, though he kept a-coaxin’ on her to name the day. She said she’d wait till he got red of that little Injin. - ‘“ 8o it went along for a year and more and the little Injin was three year old aund faul seemed to set more and more by it every day; but he was terrible in love with Patty too, and ,I expect the poor feller had a struggle atween elm. : . When it.come along spring there was a terrib'e freshet. We’re pooty apt to hev a freshet up here along in the spring, but sech a one as they tell of that year aint common. It had been a dredfyl cold winter and the ice in the river was uncommon thick, and whey it went out it was a sight to see, they all sai¢ The great blocks was a-leapin’ and tumblin over each other as if they was a.-wra,stlin’,'and they was hove up onto the shore mountain-. high in some places. Saw-mills was kerried off and the lumbermen had hard work to save any of the logs that they’d piled up upon the shore, ready to drive down when the river opened. ; | . ‘“ They was all there on the shore, a workin’ to save what they could and the hull settlement was there too the day that the ice went out. : ** Saul’s little Injun was all by herself, Saul bein’ too busy too look arter her and folks in gineral heving a kind of a prejerdice agin’ her. ' She was a humbly little creetur, and they didn’t set by Injuns nohow. And what did the young one do but go to whire Patty was standin’, with a parcel of gals and cling holt of her skirts. ‘. ‘* Patty she shook her off anu told her to clear out, but jest then Saul hé sung out and asked Pattv if she wouldn’t look arter her a little, seein’ he: was in sech trouble. Patty hesitated a little and then she said she would. ** The gals was standin’ pootty clost tothe river and the little Injin she was a-standin’ on block of ice. They was a-watehin’ the lumbermen tryin’ to save the logs and the fust thing they knew there was that block of ice with the young one onita-floatin’ out into the river and she a-yellin’ and a-sereechin’ to Saul to come and git her. ' _ ¢ Some thought she’'d been a-jumpin’ on it and kind of made it slip down into the river, some thought the water must a’ washed up without tueir noticin’ and kerried it off; and some ‘on ’em looked askance at Patty and thought she might a’ pushed it. ‘ Anyhow, there was the block with the poor little Injin on it a-bein’ gushed and drove and sure to be swallered up before many minutes. _ ‘ Patty, she stoodlixe a stun whilst the othlers was all a-runnin’ and a-screechin’. .Raul, ‘he didn’t stop for nothin’. He jumped onte the blocks of floatin’ ice, fust one aud then another. The current was a kerryin' out the block that the little Injin stcod on pootty fast but he all but fetched it—all but! There come a great pile of ice and logs a-swooping down on him and knocked him into the water as it he hadn’t been nomor’n a feather! The little Injin she went too and the great heap of ice went over ’em, and they never come-up. “ Patty Hutchins, she took on like a wild cretur; some thought she really was a little teched and wouldn’t. never be herself agin. There was considable whisperin’ and moss folks believed th+t she’d gin that ice block a little hist; she did bate that little Injin so like pison! But of course there wa'n’t never nothin’ done about it. She shet herself up, and she wouldn’t hey nothin’ to say to nobody—till after ten years or more. Then she up and metiied a widerer with seven children. Fi‘olks was surprised, but you see her father and mother was dead and she hadn’t no home.

‘] don’t mind tellin” you that ’t was my" father that she merried,” added Mr. Jones, lowering his voice. ‘I hain’t nothin’ to say agin her. She wa’n’t never what you could call fond ‘of children, and she was kind of gloomy by spells, but she done her duty pootty well by us. She’d always seem to be a-brood-in’ over things, pertikerly when it got along towards spring and the ice was a-goin’ out of the river.. She’d always go and set on the bank and watch it a-goin’. Seems as if anybody would kind of forgit arter years and years, but some folks don’t seem to; but when they git oncommon along in years they do git kind of mixed, and they're apt to say kind of queer things to folks. I wouldn’t hev you mention it to Mis’ Jones, for she’s'terrible high-minded, Mis’ Jones is—but——-"! Our host interrupted himself by throwing some spruce boughs upon the fire; they snapped and cracked and filled the room with spicy, wood odors,-and then blazed up in graceful and fantastic shapes. The flames danced in Gram’s face and awoke her. Her little keen black eyes searched our faces. The room had grown quiet; Mr. Jones, apparently exhausted by his efforts as a storyteller, had leaned back in 'his chair and closed his eyes; even the low murmur of voices in the ‘ company eend”” had died away. k ‘T want Pamely to come and put me to bed. I always have to wait,”’” Gram broke out guerulously. ‘ I’ve waited a terrible many years to find out things, that’s the hardest fiind of waiting!”? We murmured an assent sympathetically. ¢ Maybe you can tell me the things I want to know,’’ she went on. *‘‘You look as if f‘ou knew as much as a minister. But then I’ve asked them and they don’t know. They:say that wishin’ aint doin’;andif for one minute—’twas more than wishin’, that may turn this world black, but it can’t turn the other—because the Lord is forgivin’. I know He is. But I want to take it all back!" What I want to know is— can all Eternity make things jest as if they hadn’t ever been?”’ Gram’s voice sunk to an impressive whisper at that question. Pamely came in just then with two or three crgnies from the prayer-meeting who had stopped to get warm. ‘They brought a pleasant bustle and an out-of-door fresiiness with them, which made us feel asif our host’s story’ of the old time dwellers *‘ on the edge of] the world”’ and Gram’s mysterious questions that fitted so curiously into it, were all a dream. They mingied with our dreams that ni%ht. We 'saw Gram’s keen eyes peering into the dark‘ness and her worn voice asked us questions that no man could answer. ce We were glad to he off in the morning before Gram was astir. ~ We found good sport and novel experience and pushed on ‘*‘ over the border’’ into Cann.daa 1 - When we came back to be again * eaten an slept at Mr. Jones’ tavern’’ on our homeward way, six weeks had gone by. Spring was abroad in the land. The river had opened two weeks before. Mr. Jones was as voluble, “Mis’ Jones! as mild and gracious as before. Mirandy and the school master had departed on their wedding tour to see ‘‘ his folks.” . But the tiny, withered figure was gone from the great chair beside the fire-place. A new, shining plate was added to the row which ornamented the mantel-piece at the ‘‘company eend.”” On it was inscribed: ‘ Patty Hutchins Jones, 99 years and 11 months.”’ i “ Gram got cold a-goin’ down to the river to see the ice go out,”” said Mr. Jones. ‘ Bhe was always terrible sot upon seein’ the ice go. And it is a:harnsome sight.” + Gram had gone to find out whether * all eternity” could *‘ make things jest as if they hadn’t never been.’—Sophie Swett, in Good Company. ¢ : —A burly rowdy who has already served five or six sentences is brought before the polite. Just as they are about to begin the examination, ¢ Mr. President,” says he, ‘‘my lawyer is indisposed. I call for a delay of one week.”” ¢ But you have been caught ‘in open misdemeanor, your hand in the pocket ‘of the plaintiff. What could {;ur lawyer say for you?’ ¢ Precisely, Ir. President; I'm quite curious to know.” L : :

—Scene—The gambling table at Monte Carlo. Person®—Young English lady with little sister and a gentleman whose acquaintance they have made at the hotel. Young lady—*¢O! I say, I shall put a five-franc piece on the number ol my age!’’—putting one on the figure 18. The number 28 wins. Little sister—¢¢ What fun! Now, if gou‘ had really put it on your right age, Sis, you would have won, wvulgn’t youp”

What the Democratic Party Has Aec- ’ '~ complished. The Democratic party have surrendered legislative control of this country, which it has held in part since the 4th -of March, 1875, and wholly sincel the 4th of March, 1878. It may be that the Senate will be nominally held by the Democrats for the next two years, but if so by so frail and uncertain a tenure that it will amount to nothing practically. For all purposes of legislation and in all that affects the public polity of the Nation, the Democratic party will have no direct power to act or to influence, and will ge relieved of 'all further responsibility. The Republicans, of course, come into power with magnificent professions and a plentitude of promises as it is their custom to do; and ‘'we may expect to hear from the organs of the party a a general congratulation to'the country that it has seen for a time at least the last ot Democratic rule, and upon the roseate prospects of tae future, with the Republican party controlling the National councils.. Undoubtedly the Democratic Congress, just expired by limitation, and its two predecessors, bave made mistakes, as all Congresses of .whatever party have done and will do while composed of fallible human beings. It has done some things that, perhaps, had better have been left undone, and omitted to do some that it should have done. But none of these sins of omission or commission have been of such magnitude as to affect the country injuriously; they. have been faults of party.more than of public policy. The things which the Republican

aO, M RNyt a 3 o S Sl A BS K SRS 2 TR SN Lk SLII NS e party charged the Democrats would do if intrusted with power they have not doue, nor attempted to do. They have not brought ruin upon the country. They have not paid the rebel debt nor rebel claims. They have never in all the course of their legislation evinced any disposition to do any of these things. There is something more that it is well enough to recall, now that the Democratic party has transferred the legislative power into the hands of its adversary. The six years of Democratic control has brought the people prosperity. While a Democratic Senate and House of Representatives have been sitting at the Capitol the business of the country that the Republicans left prostrate has revived and flourished. The industries that were in ruins when the Republican party went out of power have been rebuilt, increased and ‘multiplied. The ¢hard times’’ that came upon the country under Republican rule have %iven ;i%ace to prosperity and plenty. he epublicans. when six years ago they transferred political supremacy to 'the Democrats, transferred

with it crippled industries, prostrate business and a people groaning under a load of financial distress. The Demo“crats in turn yield control to. their old adversaries, but with it a country peaceful and prosperous, with industries thriving and business booming. lls this nothing? Does not this grand result ‘atone for a 'multitude of shortcomings?Ought'not the Republicansfor shame in the face of this contrast cease their howling about Democratic incapacity? There is something else that should be rememberéd. In the three Democratic Congresses there have been no public scandals. The Democrats may have their faults, but they have not plundered the Government as their Republican predecessors did; there have been no Credit Mobilier affairs and no rings; the lobby has been suppressed and the record of the Democratic party is clean in that respect. 1t may not have passed so many laws nor made so much noise in the administration . of affairs as the 1 Republican party did, but itslaws were wholesome and what it did redounded in all cases to the people’s benefit. ~lt did not steal the people’s money nor shame them in the eyes of the world. On the whole we are willing to compare the record of the six 'years’ legislative control of the Democrats, with the previous six years that the Republicans were in power, and to contrast the situation of the country now with What it was when the Democrats canie into power in Congress. Nevértheless the people in their : wisdom have thought best to Lr% the Republicans again. We can only hope in the interests of the people, that the Republicans may go out of power leaying the country as prosperous as they find it.— Cleveland - Plaindealer. » A i ————————

Thankfulness That It Is Over. It is a remarkable circumstance that no one mourns thé retirement of Mr. Hayes from the White House. The .only expression of sentiment concerning the close of his Administration is thankfulness that it is over. With the end of four years of fraudulent occupancy of the Presidential chair, he finds his pet ideas of Government openly scouted by his successor, his last and dearest ‘- appointments contemptuously thrown out by the Senate, and a chorus of congratulations from his party associates that at last they are rid of their own creation. Under these circumstances, without a friend tospeak a kind word for his Administration, it is not unnatural that Mr. Hayes should seek to defend and excuse himself; and this he does through an authorized state‘ment published in the New York Zimes. In this remarkable statement Mr. Hayes struggles hard with facts and eircumstances to make a regutable showing for himself, and’ in doing this he makes yet more evident the fundamental fault of his Administration, its colorless weakness. Thus, in the first plea which he makes for favorable consideration, in defense of what he cails his Southern policy, he is obliged to condemn in the strongest language the Republican policy of military coercion which he found in full operation when he was counted into office. He -characterizes the condition of the South as ‘‘simply a state of war.”” This is a condemnation of Republican management which Mr. Hayes would not have dared to make, except when on the threshold of ‘the back door of the White House. Yet even with the case so clearly before him, he confesses a hesitancy in moving for justice. He says ‘he ‘had to consider these three points: . What is the best policy to pursue for the interests of the people at large, supposing that there were no Constitutional limitations to his action; what is the best polica for the Republican party; what are the requirements of the ifionstitutibn?‘* One would supposé that the last of these three points

should have been enough for the consideration of a man whohad just sworn to uphold the Constitution. Mr. Hayes, however, called off the troops—and |some peoxle are so cruel as to say that this was done in accordunce with the terms of a bargain by which the fraud of his installation was condoned. And = now this righteous. man says,in his authorized statement: ‘‘Don’t you see the inestimable advantage, in a party sense, of being able to throw on Democratic shoulders the responsibility for every species of fraud and misgovernment enacted in the South? Every tissue bal‘lot cast and counted in South Carolina’ goes to the making of Northern votes -for the Republican party.” v l It is such things as this that have properly discredited Mr.” Hayes' Administration; twaddle about right and ! justice and the welfare of the people, 'and a chuckle over the success of a ‘party trick. Mr.: Hayes has gained neither credit for righteousness nor ad- ; miration as & stalwart party leader. In | fact. he slaps the stalwarts in this part'ing proclamation, declaring that they | have done all in their power to kill the | party. . E s | © His defense of his Civil-service re-

form fiasco is pitched in about the same key. He says that he proposed certain ends, but found them unattainable; yet that he has made Civil-service reform popular and has killed the *boss system.” Explaining how this was done, | he declares that ** though no public officer has been removed for disregard of the Civil-service order, no one has openly and ostentatiously defied ‘it without having the fact remembered against. him when he came up for renomination.”” This, of course, means nothing. - as everyone knows who has followed the course of Mr. Hayes’ appointments, dealing out patronage as rewards for services in the Presidential fraud and sending out his, whole Cabinet on stumping tours at the demand of the party. - : : e Among other. things for which Mr. Hayes claims credit to his Administration is the financial policy of the Government. He says: *The' gradual hardening of the financial views of Secretary Sherman has been largely due to his influence.” Another thing is his ‘treatment of the labor disturbances in 1877. He says he used the Signalservice as a corps of observers, and had riot indications marked on a map, sending troops where danger wasi‘m{)icated. Another thing is the fact that his Administration ‘‘has been notably free from scandals.’”” To conclude, Mr. ‘Hayes authorizes this summary of the merits of his Administration: . =

It must at least be remembered tothe credit of his Administration that it brought about resumption and all the blessings flowing therefrom. 'l'hatitimproved the Diplomatic service, and through the system’ of Conqular\éeports, established since its inauguration, did something to increase our trade with foreign countries. That it . made an honezt effort at Civil-service reform. That it was not tainted with nepotism. That against tashionable ridicule and slurs from all quarters it was sound on the temperance question, That it steadily refused to employ- an organ to sound its praises. That it bravely fought and defeated the men who sought to coerce the Executive by refusing to vote su(Fplies. and that as far as might be it has conducted the affairs of the Nation in a simple, unostentatious American Tasiha, G . This, of course, is an excessive claim. But, granting all that Mr. Hayes asks the public to believe of his Administration, it yet stands distinguished chiefly for weakness of purpose and of acts, and will pass into history noted mainly for the fact that for the first time the chair of Washington was occupied by a man who was not elected to that place.— Boston Globe. . el ; A Distinguished ‘Personage in Wash- ~ ington. S

A Washington “special to a Republican paper says: = : ‘ There was an affectionate meeting to-day between Colonel Robert-Harlan, of Cincinnati, and J. Madison Wells, of Louisiana. Wells came up to Harlan, saying, * Is this not Harlan?' to which Harlan replied that it was the same. *Why,’ said Wells, *we used to attend horse races together thirty years ago.’ Since that-time both have become famous, and Wells claims to’ have made a President. In this connection Wells said to-day that the powerful hand of the Louisiana Returning Board was still visible in things. ‘But for that Returning Board,” says Mr. Wells, *Tilden would have been President, and, with the Democrats once in power, you may be sure Garfield nor any other Republican could have been elected this time.”. Mr. Wells then went on to construct a_plausible argument to the effect that at least eight years of Republican supremacy is owing to.the patriotic action of the Louisiana Returning Board. It isbelieved }ihat'Mr. Wells will be an applicant for an ofcey” . et : : This fits into ‘‘the eternal fitness of things’’ very nicely. It is eminently proper and right that the head of the Louisiana - Returning Board should be in Washington to see Hayes go out and Garfield go in, boast of his. work and ask for a continuance of his reward. When Wells obtained office from Hayes nobody was very much surprised, but every decent -person, Republican or Democrat, was disgusted. But there will be something more than disgust if he obtains office from Garfield. True, the latter was one of the most active of the ¢visiting statesmen,” and did his full share in systematizing the Return-ing-Board fraud, which ke confirmed afterwrrd as a member of the Electoral Commission. But: gersonallvv he owes no debt to Wells, and President Garfield ou%ht not to be anxious to remind the public of that portion of Mr. Garfield’s record. We are not sorry that his feelings in the matter are to be subjected to a erucial test which cannot be conveniently avoided. Wells is a persistent, as well as giestiferous. fellow, and if he wants an office he will have it’or make the country ring with the, story of his wrongs. Garfield must ‘‘face the music”’ or dance to it. He must either again indorse the crime of 187677, by rewarding one of the chief criminals, or hear from that criminal in unmistakable language. We hope he will be inconsistent enough to turn Wells s ki Y B L) £ 3 : . empty and wrathful away—but we shall believe it when he does; and not before. —Bt.. Louis Republican. . . . . .. i

——The 'keen-eyed: Washington correspondent of the Springfield Republican says: *‘ The wholie drift of things is towards an Admianistration in which purely commercial ‘politics are to control, as must be inevitable when a man who has always been.the fast friend of subgidies, liberal appropriations -and jobbery generally becomes the ' head of the Cabinet. The subs’idy-§t”abbers, the jobbers, the -lobbyists and the cors ruptionists .of every kind feel happier than they have before for years."”

——When Mother Garfield .looked over the White House she exclaimed, “Really, Jeems, it'll take a month to clean up arter/them Hayéses!™ g