Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 2, 1889)
Little John had opened wide his eyes many times
before venturing to become the proprietor of such a
property. Many visits he had made up Cliff street.
He did not like the name that had become connected
with it. " Mortgageville," envious men and wags called
" HEHIN WAS AWFUL LOW IN TI1KM PAYS,"
" If we buy, mother," John said, " we must put
down every cent. It's a big pile, too."
" It's wuth it," Mrs. John had insisted.
The sudden acquisition of wealth had develop! in
the wife a vein of progression that caused John much
uneasiness. He watched her with a puzzled expres
sion as she argued
" We've gut the money, an' this cumin' outer the
hill '11 give our Charl' a chance to get a wife outer the
Chart's welfare was a weak point with John, ami
Mrs. John knew it.
" Hut how are you goin' to git up an' down from
there mother? It's a etiflish walk."
Kittle John's weak eyes really wore a shrewd ex
pression as ho regarded his wife's weighty form, and
raised this objection. ,
" Why, in my carriage, of course," Mrs. John an
" In your carriage! " gasped John, and he surren
dered. Before he realized it, ho found himself wan
ning his mass of architectural grandeur, his eyes big
It was all his, this palace, with its shaded lawns
nit into beautiful drives like a public park, the stone
H?s down the cliff to the beach, where the sea con
tinually swashed in and receded. All his. Then ho
had a hostler and gardener of whom he was very much
afraid. There was no triumph in Little John's heart as
he viewed his possessions. As ho had stumH'd up
Cliff street before, he soon after his purchase began to
stump down the street to find happiness ami content
ment in tho dingy office of the storehoustf which had
held his " stacks of resin." There, every day, rain or
shine, Little John met his old-time friends and told
them over and over again how ho got rich.
As before hinted, the sudden good fortune had unite
a different effect on Mrs. Pattern. Energetic and per
sistent, she had managed comfortably in her more
humble home. The exhilarating air of Cliff street
soon incited dreams of a greater rise, still her old hab
it were not forgotten. Instead, her faculties for suv
ing seemed to have been sharpened, and sho rushed
over her estate, peering into this and under that, al
ways in search of waste.
" We've gut the money, an' we're goin' to keep it,"
sho would exclaim.
Her greatest ambition was centered in her son
Charles, and indeed Charles had much need of solici
tude. The same languor which had prevented him
from lighting his battles in sch.sil held him as if with
iron arms from working his way upward and onward.
He was a handsome, healthy young man, with a form
like an Apollo, and a complexion as pink and white
as that of a girl. Ho grew a beautiful, brown, silky
beard; his eyes wero large, brown, and had an expres
sion of interesting weariness. Mrs. Pattern recognized
the lack of vitality In her offspring, but to Little John
Charles' spinx-liko beauty was little less of a wonder
than the great Pattern prorty on Cliff street.
Since tho course at Kingston Academy, Charles had
attended a private law school, the head of which must
have been a paragon, for through his lals.rs, assisted
by the continual goading of Mrs. Pattern, who put In
unceasing work out of school hours, Charles, at the
age of twenty-five, was admitted to the bar. Elegant
,,lee were taken in the city, where Charles' name was
painted in largo letters on the doors. Hero he sat day
after day in ponderous meditation, while clients innu
lumblo whisked in and out the doors of his brother
" He ain't gut the snap of a donkey," dcclorod Mrs.
pattern after one of her visits to tho city. " The
luon,.y we've spent on him. He', been a-lawyerin'
now goin' on a year, an' ain't made money enough to
buy him a shirt."
Don't go at him w, mother," remonstrated Little
John, " he'll run away to sea or somcthin'."
" Run away, fiddlesticks! " snorted Mrs. John.
" I'd like to see him run once."
Mrs. Pattern loved her boy, but it was a trial to