Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 44, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 July 1875 — A SPELLING-MATCH. [ARTICLE]

A SPELLING-MATCH.

The fire-light made fantastic shadows in old Farmer Dobson’s kitchen; it flickered up and down on the huge brown rafters, and on the great dresser where the quaint willow-ware dishes were arranged, and where Mrs. Dobson’s wonderfuhwealtih of tinw r are was arrayed in shiningyanks. A great, far-cornered, shadow-haunted kitchen of the old-fashioned type, with a fire-place of the old-fashioned type, one of the generous, provident, open-hearted kind that is passing away with the woods it helped to devour. We have more economical arrangements coming into fashion, even in the old country houses, now-, but there are none so full of evening witchery, so care-beguiling and heartsome, as the old wood fire. What elfish pranks it played that night! Hdw it reddened old Farmer Dobson’s smoking°-cap, and shone on his good wife’s spectacles, and tinted Job’s high cheekbones and sleek, black hair, as he sat in the corner bending obtusely over his book, utterly absorbed, as a man might be who had so little time to explore the mysteries of Webster, and who was to take part in the spelling-match to-night. Job w r as Farmer Dobson’s farmhand—a tall, strong, patient fellow, who had been so quietly the butt of us all winter that we had got to using him like a big mastiff, who might be dangerous, but under ordinary circumstances could be safely teased and tormented to the top of our bent. A mist gathered in my eyes as I looked across the great kitchen to where he sat unconscious, plodding away at his task. I thought of our glib and easily-acquired learning, and of poor Job’s hard struggle for life, and I pitied Job. Yes, I pitied him; but yet, nevertheless, as I saw him stooping so profoundly by the light of that witching fire, heedless of the shadow and shine ot the room, an imp of mischief—perhaps one of the pranksome elves gesticulating in the chimney-corner —got possession of me. I arose softly, and gliding over to where he sat sprinkled the absorbed student with a shower of eau-de-cologne, and, putting the vial quickly in my pocket, walked demurely back to my seat. The start Job gave, and the flush on his face as he Returned to his book, were comical. That cologne was Abijah Plummer’s present, and I shouldn’t have wasted it, perhaps, and perhaps Job didn’t like cologne. He shut the book presently and sat with his shoulders stooped and his head drooping, looking into the fire. Well, as I have said, we were to have a spelling-match that night, not our first one by any means; but the old folks had put their heads together to give us a prize this time, a beautiful set of gold-and-blue poets, six dainty little volumes that stood gleam.z ing in the firelight on the round table, in the place of honor along with the great, gilt-edged family Bible. The young people dropped in one by one, shaking off the snow as they came in, for there had been a light snow-fall that evening, wlifch made us all the merrier. By and by the great kitchen was filled up, the candles were lit, Farmer Dobson laid aside his pipe, the schoolmaster straightened his neck-tie and grabbed the big Webster'before him, and we all became properly impressed with the importance of the occasion, though there was a general nudging of elbows and a sly grimace as big, shy Job joined the class. But Job was used to our merry-making and took no notice of it. Round and round went the spelling—big words and little words, words with treacherous e's and a's lying in wait in unexpected places, and words without u’s, and words with odd A’g, and all the deceitful dictionary dreadfulness that lies in wait to trip up the unwary. And one after another our champions were spelled down, and Job actually stood his ground against half a dozen w’ell-schooled fellows. All his face was kindled with eagerness," and the dull and plodding look habitual to him had disappeared. The spelling was waking him up. But there sat Abijah Plummer, who didn’t join in the match— Abijah Plummer, the well-to-do beau of the village, who had no need, mayhap, of book-, learning. There he sat and laughed at Job’s excitement. I saw an uneasy light in Job’s eyes as if he were being severely tried. The spelling-match was kindling him to the center, it seemed. A few more words were yet on the list and there lay the beautiful books smiling and shining on us. “ Beautiful!” gave out the school-mas-ter ; and Abijah laughed as Job got up to spell it. Job looked at Abijah and began, “B-e-u—” and there was ,a general scream of laughter. K “Dam it!” said Job between his teeth; “ what can a fellow do with a fool like that grinning at him?” The mastiff was shaking himself up, and I trembled for Abijah. - . • “Order!” said the schoolmaster, and gave out the word again. It was my turn. I don’t know, as I say, what imp possessed me this evening, but

I stood up and spelled the word with a vim, just as if I didn’t care one jot for Job’s defeat, and before I knew it the blue-and-gold prize was put into my hands. Then I looked at Job, and could have cried. But every one was merry, and all were talking ana chatting and laughing as we broke up and said good-night. I wanted to speak to Job, but there stood Abijah in the doorway with my shawl in his hands, waiting to see me home, and I only nodded to Job as he stood at the gate with his lantern to show us the path. One after another the merry party disappeared down the snowy road and the winding lanes. Abijah and I were the last. “I’ll see you down to the creek,” said Job, humbly. “ It’s a rough road tonight.” And without another word he stalked on ahead, his lantern gleaming after him. We did not say much either, Abijah and I, for we were "floundering through the soft, thick-falling snow, and somehow it seemed awkward to be walking in Job’s lantern-light. Presently we came down to the creek where every angle of rock and every elbow of, gnarled tree was flecked softly with snow, and the creek, which I had crossed a day or two before on my visit to Farmer Dobson’s, ran below, gray and far, an unfamiliar stream, with downy, treacherous banks shutting it in—a strange, white fantasy. Over it two stout planks, crossing a few inches apart, served as a bridge. They were rounded and slipperylooking to-night, and one of them had a slight warp, as if weather-strained. Abijah stood a moment on the bank surveying it. “It’s dangerous crossing that,” herald. “ I declare, Jennie, I don’t like the look of it.” The night was gray and soft ,and still, and all about us fell the snow, which seemed to be creating itself out of the feathered and shadowy underbrush and the white, quiet atmosphere. The scene was so strange and weird that I felt a moment’s hesitation; the next instant the imp which had possessed me all the evening set my blood dancing with mischief. “ I promised to be home to-night,’ ’ said I, eluding Abijah’s detaining hand; and with a mocking, dancing step I skipped upon the plank. Abijah stood still on the margin and looked at me. Job stood still also one moment, and, holding up his lantern, looked at Abijah. Then he said, sarcastically: “By your leave, Mr. Plummer; this is a bridge for two, and if you’ve no mind to be getting over, I’ll step along myself.” And it was Job’s hand that, touching me timidly, steadied my fool-hardy steps, and Job’s lantern that flickered over the phantom banks beyond and the deep creek below that treacherous plank. Half-way across I felt a strange quiver, as if the heart of the thing were being broken, and my own heart leaped up with sudden terror; a despairing cry, a whirl of darkness and chaos, and I felt the bridge totter and crash, and thought I was being swept away into annihilation. Some strong arm grasped me then, not tenderly, but with a clutch that roused every faculty, and, trembling, conscious; struggling for life, I found myself clinging to the slippery edge of the other plank, with Job holding me fast by my raiment, as we hung for a moment in peril together, while Hie lantern floated away below in the debris. Job speedily regained some sort of footing, ana slipping, sliding;, by slow and painful effort we reached’the other side. I believe I laughed then when I camo to myself, shook out my Snow-encumbered garments, and looking down saw Job’s faithless lantern gleaming like a fitful firefly away out of reach, and felt sure that Abijah Plummer was still watching on the other side. Job stretched out over the brink, looked down at the useless lantern, and shook his fist; perhaps at the invisible Abijah. “ Job, oh, Job!” Isaid, taking his hapd, “I’m sorry I spelled ‘beautiful’ to-night.” I did not laugh now. I was full of a strange excitement. “ Who had a right to spell such a word but you, Jennie?” answered Job gravely. “ But I—l’ve lost the books, Job.” “ I’ve lost something, too,’? said Job. We stood still for a moment and looked at each other. And there was that in Job’s face which never shone but once in any human face and which all men and all women know when they see it. Then Job roused up and said, lightly: “ Will you get along the rest of the way without Abijah Plummer?” “All the rest of my life,” I replied. Since then Job has often said to me softly as we sat in the twilight: “They can’t say I didn’t win a prize at the spell-ing-match.”