PAGE' SIX.
TKE DAILY CAPITAL JOURNAL, SALEM, OREGON. THURSDAY, JANUARY 9, 1919
S
THE LIGHT
THE 0LFARING-
IN
A TALE OF. THE NORTH COUNTRY
. IN THE TIME OF SILAS WIGHT
TONE B&IELLERw
-' ;'".'..:.. .. ' fame or ' - '
eSEN HOLDEM. D'M AND 1 OASREl Of THE ILESStO Blii
KPIM0 UP WITH UZZIt, ETC ETC
. CmMMUMIMKMIlMW
PREFACE
The Light In the Clearing ah an upon
many tnings ami mostly upon those
which, abovs all others, have Impassioned
nd perpetuated the Spirit of America
and which, Just now, seem to me to be
worthy of attention. I believe that spirit
lu dc me very canaie oi ine L,ora wnicn,
rn this dark and windy night of time, has
dickered so that the souls of the faithful
have boen afraid. But let us be of good
cheer, it la shining brighter as I write
and, under God, I believe It shall, by and
by? be seen and loved of all men.
( l.ia ttwlf vfitn ln.it Urnmriln in i h rt t
th renxtte country-sldo In which I was I
born, had tbe true Spirit of Democracy
t!i I'nited States and the capltol at Al
iiHr.y. lie carried the Candle of the Lord.
led Mm to a height of self-forgetful-iits
achieved by only two othera Wash
ington and Lincoln. Yet I have been sur-
' prised by the profound and general Ig
norance of this generation regarding the
career of Silas Wright.
The distinguished senator who served
it his side for many years, Thomas H.
Brnion of Missouri, has this to say of
HiIhk Wright In his Thirty Tears' View:
"il refused cabinet appointments un
:liT his fast friend Van liuren and under
Polk, whom he may be said to novo
steeled. He refused a seat on the bench
iif the Supreme court of the United
States; ha rejected Instantly the noirllna
llun in 1844 for vice president; he refused
to be put In nomination for the presi
dency. He spent that time In declining
Di lice which others did In winning It. The
unices he did accept, It might well be
1 Mid, were thrust upon him. He wns born
great and above office and unwillingly de
fended to It."
Ho much by way of preparing the reader
to meet the great commoner In these
pages.
Them wars those who accused Mr.
Wright of being a spoilsman, the only
warrant for which clnltn would seem to
be his remark In a letter: "When our
enemies accuse us of feeding our frtemls
Instead of them never let them Ho In tell
ing the etory."
tie was, In fact, a hrman being, through
nd through, but so upright that tliey
lined to say of him that he was "as hon
est as any man im.ler heaven or In It,"
For my knowledge of the color and
spirit of the time I am Indebted to a long
fourss of reading In Its books, newspa
pers and periodicals, notably the North
American lievlew, the United States Mag
in and Democratic lievlew. the New
York Mirror, the Knickerbocker, the St,
lawrenee Republican, lienton's Thirty
' rears' View, Bancroft's Life of Martin
Van Buren, histories of Wright and his
time by ITummond and Jenkins, and to
' many manuscript letters of the distin
guished commoner In the Now York pub
lic library and In the possesion of Mr.
Samuel Wright of Weybrldge, Vermont
To any who may think that they dis
cover portraits In these pages I desire to
ny that all the diameters save only
HI Ins Wright and President Van Buren
ind Burton Baynes are purely Imngln
try. However, there were Grlmshuws
snd Purvises and jMn'.sea and Aunt Deels
nd Undo Penbod:' l almost every rus
tic neighborhood tlioue days, and I regret
to add that llovlng Kute wns on many
roads. The case of Amos Grlmshaw bears
4 striking resemblance to that of young
Nlckford, eeeuted long srto In Mnlone
for the particulars of which case I am
Indebted to my friend, Mr, II. L. Ives of
CnUdam. ,
THE AUTHOR.
COOK ONE
Which Is the Story of the Candle
and the Compass.
CHAPTER I.
Th Melon Harvest
Once upon a time I owned a water
nelon. I say once because I never did
It ngain. When I got through owning
that melon I never wanted another.
The tlmo was 1S31; I was a boy of
icven and the melon was tho first of
ill my harvests.
I didn't know much about myself
Ihose days except the fact that my
lame was Bart Baynes and, further,
Imt I was an orphan who owned a
watermelon and a little spotted hen
md lived on ltnttleroad In a neighbor
Kiod called Wckltyspllt I lived with
ny Aunt Deel and my Uncle Peabody
Hiiynes on a farm. They wore brother
Mid aUler he about tlilftj-eilit and
1U0 n Utile beyond the fur-distant goal
f forty.
My father and mother died in a
ictHirpe of diphtheria that swept tho
wlghltorkood when I was a boy ot
Ive.
A few days after I arrived In tho
iome of my nunt and uncle I slyly en
tered Hie parlor and climbed the wlmt
aot to examine soniti white flowers 011
Ita top shelf nnd tipped tho whole
1" lirLT.
n the floor. My aunt came running
n her tiptoes and exclaimed: "Merry I
Come rlitht out o here this minute
ijnu pest !"
I took some rather long steps g-lng
out, which v e.-e tl.ie to the fact that
Aunt Dee! had hold of my hand. While
I sat weeping he v;cnt back Into tho
parlor and b?gnn to pick up things.
".My wreath I my v.:eiitli!" I heard
aer moaning.
How well I remember that Httlo as
teuiblngq of flower ghosts In wax I
hey had no more rlnht to ns.cliite
ivlfh Iimnnn beings than the ghosts of
table. Uncle Penbody used to call
tfteni the "Miuervy flowers" because
fttey wer a present fjoai his Aunt
, .. ......
Minerva. When Aunt Deel returned
to the kitchen where I eat a sorrew
I log little refugee hunched up In a car-
; ner film said :
1 . , ...... ,
'I'll nave to tell your
Uncle Penbody ayes 1'
I nh a,.,t .,,
: .un. ?K aon 1 ,M
tell my Uncle P ea
body, I walled.
I "Ayes! I'll have to tell him," She
, answered flrmlv
For the first time I looked for hint
with dread at the window and whea ; but mostly by Duokelbersa. These lab
he came I hid In a closet and heard jter were very rich people who lived 1
that solemn and penetrating note in Canton village,
her voice as she said: ' I know. now. hovr denrW imt TWl
"I guess you'll huve to take that boy
' away--ayes I"
"What now?" he asked.
"My stars! be snenked Into the par-
ior ana uppea over ine wnat-not ana
smashed that beautiful wax wreath!"
"Jerusalem four-corners!" he ex-
claimed. "I'll have to"
He stopped as he was wont to do oa
the threshold of strong opinions and
momentous resolutions.
The rest of the conversation was
drowned In my own erica nnd Uncle
Peabody came and lifted me tenderly
und carried me upstairs.
He sat down with me on his lap and
huched my cries. Then he said very
gently :
"Now, Bub, you and me hnve got to
be careful. What-nots and albums
and wax flowers and haircloth sofys
are the most dang'rous critters In St.
Luwrence county. They're ptirty sav
age. Keep your eye peeled. You enn't
tell what minute they'll Jump on ye.
More boys have been dragged away
and tore to pieces by 'em than by all
the bears and panthers In the woods.
Keep out o' that old parlor. Ye might
as well go Into a cuge o' wolves. How
be I goln' to make ye remember It I"
"I don't know," I whimpered and be
gan to cry out In fearful anticipation.
He set me In a chair, picked up one
of his old carpet-slippers and began to
thump the bed with it He belabored
He Belabored the Bed With Tremen
dous Vigor, Exclaiming "You Dread
ful Child!"
the bed with tremendous vigor, Mean
While he looked at me nnd exclaimed:
"You dreadful child!"
I knew that my ulna were responsi
ble for this violence. It frightened me
and my cries Increased.
The door at the bottom of the stairs
opened suddenly. j
Aunt Deel colled: I
"Don't lose your temper, Peabody. I
think you've gone fur 'nough nyes !"
Vnctp Penbody stopped and blew as
If he were very tlrctl and then I cnught
a look In Ids face that reassured mo.
He called back to her: "I wouldn't
V cared so much If it hadn't 'a' been
(lie what-not and them Mlnervy flow-
era. When a hoy tips over a what-not j
ho s coin it ptirty strong."
"Well, don't be too severe. You'd ,
ucucr i-uiuu uuw nun ii me a pun o
water nyes, I think ye had,"
Uncle IYubody did a lot of sneezing
Bnu cms,hhg wllh hls b,K Ki ,lund.
?" hl 1 I
... . ni,i,,,i rnen m niKuirttrniMi ir
Us!
kissed me and took my little hand In ,
his big hard one and led me down the '
stairs,
I drenmed that nlfiht that a long-legged
what-not, with a wax wreath In Its
hands, chased me around the house
nnd caught and bit me on the neck. I
called for help and uncle cume and
found me on the floor and put me back
In bed again.
Tor a long time I thought that the
way a innii punished a boy was by
thumping his bed. I knew that women
had a different and less satisfactory
method, Jor I remembered that my
mother had spanked me and Aunt Deel
and wuy of giving my bauds and
head a kind of watermdea than with
the middle finder of her right hand aad
with a curious look lu Iter eyes. Uade
Peabody used to fall It a "saaptieos
look." Almost always he whacked the
bed with bis slipper. - There were ex
ceptions, however, and, by aad by, I
came to know In each case the desti
nation of the slipper, for if I had deae
anything; which really afflicted ny eca
sclence that utrip of leather seemed ta
know the truth-, and found its way to
my person.
Aunt Deel tolled Incessantly. Ska
washed and scrubbed aad polished aad
dusted and sewed and knit frsta ssara
Ins until tight She lived la aiertal
fi'ar tliut company weald cease aad
Cnd her nnprepured Alma Jeaea
Jubez Lincoln and his wife, er Ben end
Mnry Humphries, or "Mr, aad Mrs.
Horace Dnnkelberg." ' Tkexe were the
people of whom she talked whea the
neighbors came la and whea she was
not talking of the Bayneaea. I abserTed
tlmt she always said "Mr. aad Mrs.
Horace Dunkelberg." They were Ue
conversational ornameats af ear baaia,
"As Mrs. Horace Dunkeiberg says," er,
"as I said to Mr. Horace Dnakeiberr,"
were phrases calculated to establish
our social standing. I gnppased that
the world was peopled by Joneses, L4
colns, Humphries and DunkeJberss.
lored her brother t. id me. I must have
i I'con a streat trlrl to that woman af
I fo-ty unused to the pranks of call-
d:cn and the tender offices of a raoth-
r. Naturally I turned from Lsr te
j my Uncle Peabmly as a refuge aad
ht'lnin time on mihi with in,...
leanness. He liad no knitting or sew-
ing to do and r hen Uncle Peabody saf
In the hou.se ho gave all his time to
r.ie and we w athered many a sterna
tOL-ethcr as w o Bat allentlr In his fa.
votlte comer, of an evening, whea I
always went te sleep In his arms.
I wns seven years old when Uade
Peabody gave mo the watermelon
seeds. I put one ot them In my mouth
and bit It
"It appears to me there's aa awful
t flrilft hlniXin' llnn-n ....... IV. 1 tl J M
I Vu(Ab Pcllbo(,y, ..Y'ou aln,t no busl.
neBI eatln' a melon seed."
"Why?" was my query,
"'Cause it was made to put In the
ground. Didn't you know it was allver
"Alive!" I exclaimed.
"Alive," said he. "I ll show ye."
He put a number of the seeds Id
the ground and covered them, and
said that part of the garden shonld
be mine, I watched It every day and
by and by two vines come up. One
sickened nnd died in dry weather. Un
do Tcnbody sold that I must water
the other every day. I did It faith
fully and the vine threve.
It wns hard work, I thought, to go
down Into the garden, night and morn
ing, with my little poll full of water,
but uncle said that I should get my
pay when the melon was ripe. I had
also to keep the wood-box full and
feed the chickens. They were odious
tasks. When I asked Aunt Deel what
I should get for doing them she an
swered quickly:
"Noapanks and bread and butter
ayes!" When I asked what were "nospanks"
she told me that they were part of
the wages of a good child. I was
better paid for my care of the water
melon vine, for Its growth was mea
sured with a string every day and kept
me interested. One mornlnjf I found
Ave blossoms on It I picked or 5 and
carried it to Aunt Deel. Another I
destroyed In the tragedy of catching
a bumblebee which had crawled Into
Its cup. In due time three email mel
ons appeared. When they were as
big as a baseball I picked two of them.
One I tasted and threw away as I
ran to the pump for relief. The other
I hurled at a dog on my way to
school.
So that last melon on the vine had
my undivided affection. It grew In
size and reputation, and soon I
learned that a reputation Is about the
worst thing thnt a wutermelon can
acquire while It Is on the vine. 1 in
vited everybody that came to the
house to go and see my watermelon.
They looked it over and said pleas
ant things about it When I wus a
j boy people used to treat children nnd
watermelons wun a iiKe solicitude.
Unth were a subject for Jests nnd
produced similar reactions In the lui-
, man countctiunce.
At last Uncle Tenbody agreed with
mo that it wus ubout time to pick the
, melon. I decided to pick it Immediate
ly afler meeting on Sunday, so that
I could give It to my aunt and uncle
at dinner-time. When wo got home
; I ran for the garden. My feet and
thoM) of our frit.uds and neighbors
,md WePaIly worn a pnth t0 tne niol.
on. In eager haste I got my lllue
wheelbarrow and ran with It to the
end of that pnth. There I found
nothing but broken vines I The melon
had vanished. I run back to the
overcome b,
a feeling
i.fc uiunu. iur i iiim LiioiicnE mnr ill
that hour of pride when I should
bi-w the melon and nresent It to mv
aunt and uncle.
"Uncle Tcabody," I shouted, "my
melon Is gone."
"Well, I vanl" said he, "somebody
must V stolo It"
"But It wus my melon," I said with :
a trembling voice.
. .m . , .ra too rmai isui, ;
hart, you ain't learned , It that there
I.V . I . . I .. . a.w .
arc wicked people In the world who
conio and take what don't belong to
cm."
There were tears ln my eyes when
I asked :
"They'll bring it back, won't they?"
1 "Xerfrr sJd D.cle Pby. Ta'
they.Te ,t i
He had no sooner said ft than a
brnk. fn. mT iin ..ri l nk
dowa apon the grass ateulBf sod
sobhtag. I lay amidst the raiaa of!
the simple faith of chlldheed. It was
a if the world aad att ita Jeys bad
cosie ta aa end.
Aaat Deel apoka la a law. ilaely
taae aad came aad lifted at to mj
feet very tenderly.
"Case, Bart, daa't feal saent
that aid metoa." said abe, "It ala'tl
worn it, uome vrtta. sae-. rm swag
to give yoa a p reseat ayes I ss!"
I was atlii crylag whaa she teek
ate to her traak, aad flared the
graitftl aaauageaeat af aady aad
a blt, all embroidered with brae aad
white beads. . -; I
"Ksw ye see, Bart, hew law aad
atem anybody It that takes what
deat beleaf ta i ajeat Tacy'ra
saakeal Everybedy hates) 'eaj etf
tanps ra 'eta whea they csais In
aightr-ayear
The abotninatlan f the Lard wis
la her look and miaaar. Hew . it
heek my soul! He who had taken
the watermelon had also takes frera
me something I was never to have
again, and a very wooderfnt thing It
waa faith In the goodness ef men,
My eyea had seen evil. The world
bad committed Its drat off ease against
ue and my spirit waa longer the
white and beaotiful thing It had been.
Still, therein la. tbe beginning of wis
dom and, looking (Iowa the long vista
of the years, I thank Ood for tha
great harvest of the lost watermelon.
Better things had come la Its place
understanding and what more, on
I have vainly tried to estimate. Vr
one thing that sudden revelation of
the heart of childhood had lifted my
aunt's out of the cold storage ef a
puritanic spirit, and warmed It Into
new life and opened Its door for me.
la the afternoon she seat me over
to Wills' to borrow a little tea. 1
stopped for a few minutes to play
with Henry Wills a boy not quite
a jtr older than I. While playing
there I discovered a piece ef the
rind of my melon In the Ioi-yard. (in
that piece of rind I saw the cross
which I had made one day with my
thumb-nail. It was Intended to In
dicate that the melon was solely and
whoily mine, t felt a flush of anger.
"I hate you," I said as I approached
Una.
"I hate you," he answered.
"You're a snake I" I said
We now stood, face to. face and
breast to brenst, like a pair of young
roosters. I!? gave me a ahove and
told me to go home. I gave him a
thove and told him, I wouldn't. I
pushed up close to him again aud
we glared Into each other's eyea..
Suddenly he spat-In my fsce. 1
lave htm a scratch on the forehead
with my finger-nails. Thea we fell
npoa each other and rolled en the
groHBd and hit and scratched with
feline ferocity.
Mrs. Wills ran out of the house aad
Darted, us. Our blood was hot, snd
leaking through the akin of ear faces
i little.
"He pitched on me," Heary ex
plained. I couldn't speak. '
"Go right home this mluute job.
rat!" said Mrs. Willis la aager.
Here's your tea. Don't yon ever coma
here again."
I took the tea and started down the
road weeping. . What a bitter day
hat was for mel I dreaded to face
ny aunt and uncle. Coming through
the grove down by our gate I met
Unde Peabody. With the keen In
sight of the father of the prodigal son
lie had seen me coming "a long way
jff and shouted:
"Well, here ye be I was kind '
worried, Bub."
Then his eye caught the look ef de
lectlon In my gnlt and figure. He hur
ried toward me. He stopped aa I
lame sobbing to his feet.
"Why, whnt's the matter?" he asked
Sently, as he took the tea cup from
aiy hand, and sat down upon his heels.
I could only fall into his arms and
?xpress myself In the grief of chlld
bood. He hugged me close aud begged
me to tell him what was the mat
ter.
"That Wills boy stole my melon,"
t said, and the words came slow with
)obs.
"Oh. no, he didn't," said Uncle Pea
jody. "Yes he did. I saw a piece o the
rin"
"Well by" said Uncle Peabody,
Unpping, as usual, at the edge of the
precipice.
"He's a snake," I added.
"And you fit and he scratched you
jp that way?"
"I scratched him, too."
"Don't you say a word about It to
unt Deel. Don't ever speak o" that
miserable melon ag'ln to anybody.
Ton scoot around to the barn, an'
I'll be there In a minute and fix ye
iip."
ne went by the road with the tea
ind I ran around to the lane and up
to the stable. Uncle Peabody met
lie there In a moment and brought a I
rnH of water nnd washed my face
o that I felt and looked more respect- ;
ible. I
The worst was over for that day,
nt the Bayues-Wllls feud had begun. !
it led to ninny a fight in-the school
rnrd and on the way home. We were
o evenly matched that our quarrel
went on for a lone time anil imthercd i
j intensity as It continued. !
(me June day Uncle Penbody and
froia tlowu ln the RM, ' .
me carriage drive ln at our gate. He
lopped and looked Intently.
"Jerusalem four-corners!" he cx
almed. "It's Mr. and Mrs. Horace
mkelberg."
-
My BMrt ftst st o.-,-
the legendary Dunkelbergs. :
looked ate over from ton to t.
"Heawas!" be exclaimed. "Go doir
to tbe brook and wash tbe mad off
per feet an legs."
ran. for the brook and before I
had returned to my ancie I heard ft
hern blew. - J diaaera ef salt pork and milk gravy
"The Dnakelbergsf the Dankst-1 assA apple pie bow enriched by aweet
bergsf Ceaie aolckr It seemed toSmcklea and T) reserves" Mj frosted
Mr. Dnnkelberg was a big, braad-
shneldered, elsnin-1oking man. Some
how bis face reaahtded me ef a Dga's
which I had sees In one ef my pic
ture books. Ha had a thick, long, eat
staadlBg mustache and side whiskers,
aad deep-set eyes and heavy eyebrews.
He stood for he If a aaoment leekiag
dewa at ate fraoi a great height with
his right saad to his packet I heard
a little Jlagto f oolite down whers
his band was. It exetted my cwies
Ity. He toot step toward me atad
I retreated. I feared, a tittle, this
big, lion-tike asaa. My fears left at
suddenly when he spoke In a satall
sqaeaky voice that reminded ma ef
the chirping ef a bird.
"Little bay, came here and I will
make yon a present," said he.
It reminded m of my disappoint
ment when ancle tried to shoot his
run at a squirrel and only the cap
cracked.
I went to him and he laid a silver
piece In (he palm of my hand. Aaat
Deel ber;an to hurry about getting din
ner ready while Un.de Peabody and
I sat down en the porch with onr
guests, sniong whom waR a pretty,
blue-eyed girl of about my own age,
'Sally, Thia Is Barton Baynes. Can't
You Shake Hands With Him?" 6aid
Mrs. Dunketberf.
with long, golden-brown hair that
hung In curls.
"Sally, this Is Barton Baynes can't
you shake hands with him?" said Mrs.
Dunkelberg.
With s smile the girl came and of
fered me her hand and made a fanny
bow and said that she was glad to
see me. I took her hand awkwardly
and made no reply. I had never seen
many girls and had no very high opin
ion of them.
As we sat there I heard the men
talking about the great Silas Wright,
who had Just returned to his home
In Canton. He had not entered my
consciousness until then.
While I snt listening I felt a tweak
ef my hair, and looking around I saw
the Dunkelberg girl standing behind
me with a saucy smile on her face.
"Won't you come and play with
me?" she asked.
I took her out In the garden to
show her where my watermelon had
lain. At the moment I couldn't think
of anything else to show her. As we i
walked nlong I observed that her feet i
were in dainty shiny button-shoes.
Suddenly I began to be ashamed ot
my feet that were browned by the
sunlight and scratched by the briers.
The absent watermelon didn't seem to
interest her.
"Let's play house In the grove," said
he, aud showed me how to build a
house by laying rows of stones with
an opening for a door.
"Now you be my husband," said
she.
Oddly enough I had heard of hus
bands but had only a shadowy notion
of what they were. I knew that there
was none In our house.
"What's that?" I asked.
She laughed and answered: "Some
body that a girl is married to."
"You mean a father?"
"Yes."
"Once I hod a father," I boasted.
"Well, we'll play we're married and
that you have Just got home from a
Journey. You go out In the woods
and then you come home and Til
meet you at the door."
I did as she bade me but I was not
glad enough to see her.
"Yon must kiss me," she prompted
in a whisper.
I kissed her very swiftly and gin
gerly like one picking up a hot coal
und she caught me in her arms
and kissed me three times while her
soft hair threw Its golden veil over
our faces.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you," she
fa!d as 'she drew away from me and
shook back her hair.
"Golly! this is fun!" I said.
"Now go to sleep and I'll tell yon
a story," said she.
Then she told pretty tales of fair
ies and of grand ladies and noble gen
tlemen who wore gold coats and
swords and diamonds and silks, and
:i d words In such t weo-
.. 1
. . 1 uare say 11 prospereu.
i.a Letter In my ears because af
uia mystery by which Ita mai
were partly bidden.'' I had
caastioas to ask and she told me what
I were fairies and silks and diamonds
aad gread ladles and-noble gentlemear.
I We sat down to on of ear familiar
eake.
A taery had entered wy aaiad aad
nooa after we had heina radar I
asked:
"Aaat Deel, what Is the dilrsac
httvees a boy and a girif'
There was a little Silases la which
aty aaat drew In her breath aad ex-
clalaMd, " W'y !" and tamed very red
aad eevered her face with her aap-
kia. Uade Peabody laughed s lead
ly that the chickens began to eackle.
Mr. aad Mrs. Dunkelberg ana cavered
their faces. Aunt Deel rose aad went
to tha stove snd shoved tha tsapet
aleag, exclaiming:
' "Oeedness gracious sokes alive Iv
rk tea slopped ever en the stove.
Unde Peabody laughed loader aad
Mr. Dunkelberg's face was porple.
Shep came running Into 'the hoas
Just aa I ran out of It I had made
up aay mind that I had done some
thing worse than tipping over a what
not Thoroughly frightened I led aad
took refuge behind tbe ash-hoase,
where Sally found me. I knew ef
one thing I would never do again. She
coaxed me Into the grove where ws
had another play spell.
I seeded Just that kind ef thief,
and what a time It was for mel A
pleasant sadness comes when I think
of that day It was so long age. As
the Dnnkelbergs left us I stood look
ing down the road on which they
were disappearing. That evening my
ears canght a note of sadness In the
voice of the katydids, and memoir
began to play Its part with me. Best
ef all I remembered the kisses snd
the bright blue eyes and the soft curly
hair with the smell of roses la it
CHAPTER II. '
I Meet the Silent Woman and Silas
Wright, Jr.
Amos Grimshaw was there In eur
daoryard the day that the old ragged
woman came along and told our for
tunes she was called Rovin' Kate,
and was said to have the gift of "sec
end sight," whatever that may be. It
was a bright autumn day and the
leaves lay deep in the edge of the
woodlands. She spoke never a word
Imt stood pointing at her palia aad
then at Amos and at me.
Aunt Deel nodded and said:
"Ayes, Kate tell their fortunes if
ye've anything to say ayes!"
She brought two sheets of paper aad
the old woman eat down npoa the
grass and began to write with a lit
tle stub of a pencil. I have now those
fateful sheets of paper covered by
the scrawls of old Kate. I remember
how she shook her head and sighed
and aat beating her forehead with
the knuckles of her bony bands after
she had looked at the palm of Amos.
Swiftly the point of her pencil raa
over and up and down the sheet like
the movements ef s frightened ser
pent. Is the silence how loudly the
pendl seemed to hiss in Its swift lines
and loops.
My annt exclaimed "Mercy !" as she
looked at the sheet ; for while I knew
not, then, the strange device upon
the paper, I knew, by and by, that
It was a gibbet Beneath it were the
words: "Money thirst shall burn like
a lire In him."
She rose and smiled as she looked
Into my face. I saw a kind, gentle
glow in her eyes that reassured me.
She clapped her hands with Joy. She
examined my palm and grew serious
and stood looking thoughtfully at the
setting sun.
I see, now, her dark figure stand-
lnS Sinst the sunlight as It stood
that day with Amos In Its shadow.
What a singular eloquence In her pose
nnd gestures nd In her silcuce! I
remember how it bound our tongues
that silence of hers!
The woman turped with a kindly
smile and sat down In the grass again
nnd took the sheet of paper and
resting It on a yellow-covered book be
gan to write these words:
i "I see the longing of the helper.
One, two, three, four great perils
' shall strike at him. He shall not
be afraid. God shall AH his heart
with laughter. I hear guns. I hear
many voices. His name Is In thein.
He shall be strong. The powers of
darkness shall fear him, he shall be
a lawmaker and the friend of God and
of many people, and great men shali
bow to his Judgment nnd he shall"
She began shaking her head
thoughtfully and did not finish the
sentence, and by o.-id by tho notion
came to me thnt some unpleasant vis
Ion must have halted her pencil.
Aunt Deel brought some luncheon
wrapped In paper and the old woman
took it and went away. My aunt fold
ed the sheets and put them In her
trunk and we thought no more of
them until but we shall know soon
what reminded os of the prophet
woman.
The autumn passed swiftly. I went
to the village one Saturday with Un
cle Peabody In high hope of seeing
the Dunkelbergs, but at their door
we learned that they had gone un
the -river on a picnic. What a blow
it was to me! Tears flowed dowa
my cheeks and I clung to my uncle's
hand and walked back to the main
street of the village. A squad of small
boys Jeered and stuck out their
tongues at me. It was pity for my
sorrows, no doubt that led Unc!e Pea
body to take me to the tavern br
dinner, where they were assuaged by
cakes end Jellies and chicken pie.
At Christmas I got a plcture-boofc
and forty raisins and three sticks- of
candy with red stripes on them and a
Jew's-harp. That was the Christmas
ws went down to Aunt Liza's"
spend the day and I helped myself to
two pieces of cske when the plate
was passed snd cried because they all '
laughed at my greediness. It was the
day when Aunt Liza's boy, Tinman,
got a sliver watch and chain and her
daughter Mary a gold ring, nnd when .
all tha relatives were Invited. to come
and be convinced, ones and for all.
ef Uncle Bosweli's prosperity, and
be filled with envy snd reconciled
with Jelly and preserves and roast
turkey with sags dressing and mince
and shlckea- pie.' What an amount of
preparation w had made for the Jour
aey, and hew loaf we had talked about .
Itl
In the spring my uncle hired a man
to work for s a noisy, brawny,
harp-featured fellow with keen gray
ayes, ef tbs name ef Dug Draper.
Aunt Deel hated htm. 1 feared him
bat . regarded him with great hope
beeouse he had a funny way of wink
ing at mi with one. eye across the
table and, further, because be could
sing and did sing while he worked
songs that rattled from his lips ln a
way that amused me greatly. Then,
too, he could rip out words that had
a new and wonderful sound in tnem.
I made op my mind thnt he was like
ly to become valuable asset when I
heard Aunt Deel saw to my Uncle Pea
body: . .
"You'll hsvs to send thnt . loafer
away, right now, ayes, I guess yoa
will. - . . .
"Why?"
"Because this boy has learnt "to
swear like a pirate ayes he has !"
Uncle Peabody didn't know it but
I myself had begun to suspect it, and
that hour the man was sent awny.
and I remember that he left ln anger
with a number of those new words
flying from his Hps. A forced march
to the upper room followed that event
Uncle Peabody explained that it was
wicked to swear that boys who did
it had very , bad luck, and mine came
in a moment I never had more of
it come along in the same length of
time.
After I ceased to play with the
Wills boy Uncle Peabody used to
say, often, It was a pity that I hadn't
somebody of my own age for com
pany. Every day I felt sorry that the
Wills boy had turned out so badly,
and I doubt not the cat and the shep
herd dog and the chickens and Uncle
Peabody also regretted his failures,
especially the dog and Uncle Penbody,
who bore all sorts of Indignities for
ny sake.
One day when Uncle Peabody went
for the mall he brought Amos Grlm
shaw to visit me. He was four years
older than I a freckled, red-haired
boy with a large mouth and thin lips.
He wore a silver watch and chain,
which strongly recommended him. in '
my view and enabled me to endure
his air of condescension.
He let me feel It and look It all
ever and I slyly touched the chain
with my tongue just to see If it had
any taste to It and Amos told ma
that his father had given It to him and
that it always kept him ''kind o'
scalrt."
"Why?"
"For fear TV. break er lose It an'
git licked," he answered.
He took a little yellow paper-covered
book from his pocket and began
to read to himself.
"What's that?" I ventured to ask
by and by.
"A story," ho answered. "I met a
ragged ol woman in the road t'other
day an' she give me a lot of 'em and
showed me the pictures an' I got t
readin' 'em. Don't you tell anybody
'cause my ol' dad hates stories an
he'd lick me 'til I couldn't stan' If he
knew I was rendin' 'em."
I begged hlui to read out loud and
he read from a tale of two robbers
named Thunderbolt and Llghtfoot who
lived In a cave in the mountains. They
were bold, free, swearing men who
rode beautiful horses at a wild gal
lop and carried guns and used them
freely and with onerring skill nnd
helped themselves to what they want
ed. He stopped, by and by, and confided
to me the fact that he thought he
would run away and Join a band of
robbers.
'"How do you run away?" I asked.
"Just take the turnpike and keep
goin' toward the mountuins. When
ye meet a band o' robbers give 'era
the sign an' tell 'em you want to
Join."
He went on with the book and read
how the robbers had hung a captive
who had persecuted them and inter
fered with their sport. The storv ex
plained how they put the rope around
the neck of the captive and threw
the other end of it over the limb
f a tree and pulled the man Into
the air.
He stopped suddenly and demanded:
Ts there a long rope here?"
I pointed to Uncle Peabody's hay,
rope hanging on a peg.
"Le's hang a captive," he proposed.
At first I did not comprehend his
meaning. He got the rope and threw
Its end over the big beam. Our old
shepherd dog had been nosing the
mow near us for rats. Amos caught
the dog who, suspecting no harm, came
passively to the rope's end. He tied
the rope around the dog's neck.
"Well draw him up on It It won't
hurt him any," he proposed.
I looked at him ln silence. My
heart smote me, but I hadn't courage
to take issue with the owner of a
(continued tomorrow)