The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891, November 02, 1889, Page 243, Image 17

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    WEST SHORE.
2J3
" ' My good man, will you do me the favor of walk
in' home with me? '
" I said ' yes.' I thought he knew he waB too weak
to walk alone, but 'twan't that. When he got to his
house lie made me witness his will, me an' his head
farmer.
" ' I'm a-goin' to set that poor girl right,' says the
old man. ' God only knows how I've suffered since
she went away. This will is my last.' He was stand
in' straight an' spoke low. I was kinder scared with
it all. ' I leave everything to iny daughter,' he went
on. ' Now I'm goin' to fix her children.'
" lie was half cryin', but when he wrote he was as
as stiddy as an oak. He wrote on the will that if the
daughter should die, the property should stay just as
it was till the children was of age. If the children
didn't claim the property, then it was all to go to his
dear friend who had been like a son to him.
" While the old man was talkin' I saw a shadcr
move by the doorway. The Marshfield fanner saw it
too, 'cause he nudged me in the side an' motioned to
ward the place. I was sure a man was there an' that
lie was a-listenin'. Old Marshfield just stood an'
thought, an' bye'n bye says he
" ' I'll just make the property to I'hocbe an' her
children. It belongs to them. They can have an un
limited time to claim their own.'
" The Marshfield farmer was scared, an' begged tbo
old man to wait a week afore he made any other
changes. The farmer wanted to get out of the house,
nn1 so did I when it comes to that, for I didn't like
that skulkin, in t'other room. I told the Squire that
any time ho wanted to change the will I'd come over
I knew it stood safe enough for Phoelie an' the chil
dren. ' The old man yielded to us, an' the farmer an'
I started away. When wo was goin' through the front
gate we met the young man that the Squire said was
like a son to him. Ho was smokin' a cigar, an' seak
in' to us pleasant like, said
" 'The Squire's lookin' better, don't you think?'
" I asked Marshfield's farmer who he supposed was
in t'other room when we was signin'. He looked know-
an' jerked his head toward the young feller at the
gate. The Marshfield farmer told me all about the
will an' I was quite a gun on tho point for bein' a wit
ness. A few days later a queer sort o' chap turned up
i Kssextown, who talked with some o' the folks alxmt
Marshfield girl that he'd seen across the water.
Nome o' the townspeople sent the man to me. He told
e he was a sailor an' had met Phoebe an' her two
diildren on a wharf in Liverpool, that the women an'
children had sailed by another vessel aliout the same
lie did. The feller looked honest, an' talked
rtr'glit enough, so I thought I'd take him to the
s,lire. He told the Squire the same story, only he
said Phoebe hadn't any mney, an' that ho was just
paid his earnin's an he lent her enough to pay her
fare, an' she let him hav a stone she wore about her
neck. The feller said t e little Itoy an girl had the
same kind o' ornaments hangin' around their nocks.
The Squire was awful excited an' wanted to see the
stone. The feller had it done up in tin corner of a
han'kerehief. I'd si' m the same stone on Phoebe's
turk myself. When the Squire saw it he went aliout
wild.
" ' She said,' said the sailor, ' that she had folks in
Essex, an' I come down here think in the ship she
sailed in must 'a' got to port, an' p'r'aps she'd get her
folks to buy back the trinket.'
" I guess the feller got back all he lent Phoelie, an'
a sight more. The Squire just loaded him with money.
While he was a-talkin' the friend of the Squire came
into the room, an' the Squire told the story over. The
young friend seemed to be glad. Then the Squire
hired the sailor to stay around the place for a time,
The old man only wanted to talk about Phoebe to him.
As I was a-goin' out, the Squire said
" ' I'll have Hicks here to-morrow, an' if you're at
liberty I'd like you to come over, an' we'll tlx up those
papers.'
" 1 said 'all right,' an' went home, Course I had
to tell mother alout everything, an' it was nigh onto
'leven o'clock when we begun to think aliout goin' to
bed. Then we mulled a jug o' cider an' set talkin'
some more aliout how happy l'hoebe would be with
her father, now he was so changed. Twaa aliout
twelve o'clock when I went around to lock up the
house. All of a sudden the fowls begun to crow an'
cackle like all Hsscsscd, an' the dog begun to bark.
I thought 'twas a fox or some four-legged critter in
among the fowls. I grablied the old gun an' opened
the door. There was such a queer light in the sky
that I sung out to mother
" ' We've made a mistake, it's niornin', an' the
sun's a-comin' up.'
" ' The sun don't come up over there,' says mother,
then she begun to shake an' cling to my arm. ' It's a
lire! ' says she.
'"It's the Marshfield house! ' says I, just like I
was wakin up, then I begun to git ready to go out.
" You sha'n't go,' mother kept sayin', ' I won't
stay here alone.'
" Somehow the idea of a lire scared her mightily,
ho I called the Is.ys an' took 'em nil along. When I
g,.t to the lire the bouse had tumbled in an' every
thing that could burn was gone off in smoke. There
mis quite a crowd gathered nroiind the Squint's friend.
The young gentleman was cryin' an' ln'ggin' Mine
. lo to an' get the Squire out o' the ruins, lie said
. ,iy ten thousand dollars to the man that saved
oin