Thompsonville press, 1881-12-01 - Page 1
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;,v. V "-? •'. •" • ' -vr :•/ " ' . ' ^ , n - - t : S r " - S • - ' • - ^ ; " - ' . - ; : ¥ f r " ^ / ; ' . : ^ | | p . • % . -vv:-n<--.^,'.:)-.,:- f. ••'•' 5.'" :-V,. --•;•>• •••-. V V '.>•" -,,••• v.;,- :-,,;t;;^' "V•<••, *•": :-V^; vV /":- : • - - i-r-Hv® :^:'^ 5p"-.. ."./ ' • •• - • . ••«..• \ . • - .; '; v- :, . .,. '• •• ; - y ^-- >" • -V-V <' - .:.: :••"'• ' : • '. - -• ' -;•' •'. .-••-• ••••• " • • -.•:•••-• •••••'•:•'. .-• •.. ."' • ' . •-• • •" .•••••'•.•.-: r -•-> . • ; v . ';.'•• ?• < .. ,:••• '-.. '"' / ' .. '- • • •.-' \ - '• •'•*'• •••'•'•' -'• • "'--• ' - ' - -\..k....>•-".•• ^,;-!J-.,i...;iB-i..1: . ' '. -L *•-•::. .' • •".• *-.• •' -.'• • '; r;-..V •.;' ' • 'X-U V f -^...-..-'. •:;-•• v- J-.-li'v.;. .J . ... V." ' "•• r:.- . •••'. «-'••' "-"A ':' '..r* ' i ; r - '-•• :xr;^ ':£?:•(- * . x r f - : YOL. II. THOMPSON YILLE, yr-' .<e-.i,.§,•'- • ZyyiLy §3S r-w . • , URSDAY, DECEMBER 1, i«>l Yl.rr&ik ' ,,'.i-:3- ' ' - i * :•« Itsiiicss ItwdDCg, E. F. PARSONS, M. D., PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Resi- -1- dence and office cor. Pleasant and School streets, Thoinpsonville, Conn. — 3 J. HOMER DARLING, M. D., TTOMEOPATHrC PHYSICIAN.— ^ Pleasant St., Thompsonville. Conn. LA.TIMER PICKERING, M. D., LICENTIATE KOFAL COLLEGE sur-geons, Edinburgh, and Licentiate in Midwifery, etc., ctc., PHYSICIAN & SURGEON, Residence and office, Central street, also, entranoe from South Main street. Thompson-ville, Conn. E. 0. WILBUR^ 1~\ENTIST. Office on Pleasant Street, -L/ second house north of Hotel, Thompsonville, Conn. JOHN HAMLIN, ATTORNEY AT LAW, Mns. SIMPSON'S BUILDING, THOMPSON VI I.LE CONN. * THE PARSONS PRINTING CO., JOB PRINTERS, and of The Thompsonville Press, Main Street, Thompsonville, Conn. Office connected by telephone. )U3in^$ GEORGE P. CLARK, "MANUFACTURER of Patent Rubber -1- -1- Castors. Windsor Locks, Conn. all Wind- BOOK AND Publishers am H. H. ELLIS, "I \EALER in all kinds of one, two and -L/ four foot Wood. Orders left at A. T. Lord's will receive prompt attention. Thompsonville, Conn. THE T. PEASE & SONS CO., HOLES ALE and Retail Dealers in * * Lumber and Building Materials. Yards at Thompsonville and Windsor Locks, Conn. Steam Planing Mill at Thompsonville. Connected by telephone with Springfield, Hartford and New Haven. BENJAMIN BRIGHT, " Pork, Mutton, Lamb, Poultry, Tripe, Ham, Lard, &c. German Sausage, from the best New York makers, kept constantly on hand. All kinds of Meats in their season at lowest cash prices. Main Street, Thompaonville. JOHN C. WEISING, A/rAXUFACTURER of and Dealer in Foreign and Domestic Cigars, Plug and Fine Cut, Chewing and Smoking Tobacco, Pipes, &c., Thompsonville, Ct. THOMPSONYILLE HOTEL, "D F. LORD, Proprietor. Also Pro- -*-*• prietor of Franklin Hall. Good Livery and Feed Stable connected with Hotel. Main St., Thompsonville, Conn. JOHN H. HALLIDAY, A TTORNEY and Counselor at Law. ;£*• Spftoial atteglion givea 4e4feo settle* ' ment of Estates. Collections promi attended to. Mansley's BIOCB Street, Thompsonville, Conn. JOHN COATS, ATTORNEY AND COUNSELOR AT LAW. Office over Lindsey's Drug Store, Thompsonville, Conn. JAMES WATSON, (^.RAIN, MEAL AND FEED for sale ^ at reasonable prices. Custom grinding done at the usual rates. Corn shelled, or ground on the ear, at Watson's North mill, on the Springfield road. A full supply always on hand at Thompsonville mills. CHAS. E. PRICE, Agt., "T\EALER in Wood and Coal. Wood a specialty; chips for sale. Moving and heavy teaming done on reasonable terms. DAVID BRAINARD, , TNSURANCE AGENT. Insures all classes of Buildings and contents against fire. Special attention given to insuring Houses and Barns with their contents against loss or damage bv lightning whether fire ensues or not. Policies written on the most liberal termB, in sound companies. Losses paid promptly and honorably. Thompsonville, Conn. Miss Lorena H. Pease, Sffi&eio Veaehes, Thompsonville, Conn. JAMES & F. E. ELY, —AGENTS FOB— JIM, Hartford and Mm Insnranca Companies, of Hartford. People's, of Middletown. A. W. CONVERSE & CO., TRON FOUNDRY. Manufacture A kinds of IRON CASTINGS, sor Locks, Conn. GEORGE GLOVER, JR. "Jl/TACHINIST and General Repairer. AH kinds of Mowing Machines Repaired. Windsor Locks, Conn. A. B. STOCKWELL, WOOD, COAL, BALED HAY, &o. *" Livery and Feed Stable. All kinds of Jobbing and Teaming promptly attended to. Windsor Locks, Conn. MORAN BROTHERS, "DEEP, Pork, Mutton, Lamb, Poultry, -*-* Tripe, Ham, Lard, etc. Ail kinds of Meats and Vegetables in their season, at lowest cash prices. Main Street, Windsor Locks, Conn. L. CHANDLER, Tt/TANUFACTURER of nil kinds of Heavy and Light Team and Business Wagons, Carts, etc. Horse Shoeing and Jobbing, Mill and Machine Forging. Repairing done at short no-tice. Windsor Locks, Conn. J. H. ADAMS, TARY GOODS, Groceries, Crockery, Hardware, Notions, Fruits, etc. Main Street, Windsor Locks, Conn. PEASE BROTHERS, MANUFACTURERS of and dealers in 1TJ. Furniture, Stoves, Tin and Sheet Iron Wares, Crockery, Glass-Ware, Lead and Cement Pipe, and House Furnishing Goods generally. Slate and Tin Rooting and General Jobbing, Windsor Locks, Conn. JOHN COTTER, (J ARPENTER and HOUSE BUILD-PEASE BROS FALL OF 1881. We would simply cull your attention to our complete and carefully-selected stook of General House Fnisliiii Goois, Consisting in part ol ER. Windsor Locks, Conn. J W. BROWNING. DRUGGIST, JEWELER J1.WD OPTICIAN. Coogan'a Block, Opposite the Ferry, Windsor Looks, Conn. CHAS. J. SHORT, "Vj ARBLE AND GRANITE WORKS. -LTJ- Monuments, Tablets and Grave Stones. Also dealers in Marble and Slate Mantels, Grates and Summer Fronts. No. 375 1-2 Main St. Entranco north side of First Baptist church, Springfield, Mass. CHARTER DAK HOUSE, Fi*t Rods South of the Depot,. MAIN ST., WINDSOR LOOKfe CONN. (P» Furnaces, Parlor Stoves, Cooking Stoves, and Ranges, All ol the leading patterns. PARLOR, BEDROOM aid KITCHEN -4, FURNITURE, Live Geese Featbers, Mattresses, Bed Comforters, and Spring Beds, Curtains and Fixtures. A large stook of the best make Crockery and Glass Ware. OIL-CLOTHS, Just received 500 yards of the latest designs. Door Mats. Empire, Novelty, and' J-viT... CTai' " " HAKES. Eliza, dear, how sweet i And with such winning) 1 never, never told my lova For I could not tell Liieij And Nettie she was gay i A perfect little pet, The best ot all fish in the i But I was refused a ISTetJ Minerva's voice waa soft i Her hair did sweetly en A coward was I in those da Because I lost my Nerra.l Ada, how I remember her! I Such gracious ways she ha But, then, her fortunes wit She did refuse to Ad. r'shfl [anTfl HKNBT CUTLER, Proprietor. jroHnsr ob. DOTrGLAS, ? ATTORNEY and COUNSELOR AT LAI And Notary Public, ff ^ Practices in all the State $ . Unite/ States Courts of ConnQu Patents and Pensions promptly obtained. Col lections' made anywhere in the United States. Office OpporiU the Ferry, WINDS on LO C K S . . . . . C O N N . F. W. BROWN, A RCHITECT and BUILDER. Build. ings raised and moved. All work done in a satisfactory manner. Boston Neck, Suffield, Conn. jpRANK G. BURT, a NEWS DEALER.- Newspapers, Magazines and Periodicals of tiie various kinds for sale. Subscriptions received at the lowest cash rates. No Sunday papers sold. |y Agent for THE THOMPSONVILLE PRESS. ALSO DEALER IN Stationery. Books, Nuts, Confectionery, etc. Agent for E. Reynold's Rubber Stamps. Main Street, WINDSOR LOCKS CONN. $5 to $20 Address STIHION A Co., Portland. Kainc. GRANITE AND MARBLE Monumental "W" orks. j. H. COOK & CO., • Corner State and Willow streets, near Main, Springfield. Mass. Continental, of ^ aw y0ri., forth British and Mercantile Insnranct Companies of London. FIBB ABSOCIATION, OF PHU.ADKT.PTTT * EyAll risks written in these Con> panies at the lowest rates. Tickets for the Canard Line, of Steam-trtj to and from Europe, sold at lowed rate*. Main Street, Thompson ville, Conn. A. W. CONVERSE, FIRS INSURANCE AGENCY. RISES' procured at the Lowest Rates on the following Companies: NATIONAL, of Hartford, ORIENT, " " CONTINENTAL, " NORTII 'BRITISH and MERCANTILE, ol London and Liverpool, CONTINENTAL, of New York, FIRE ASSOCIATION, of Pliiladelphia. and Passage Tickets ' f5|Sold at satisfactory rates, -f, r; AT THE POST-OFFICE, . ^ WINDSOR LOCKS, CON*. '• .• -r:S r. faiswortii, Martinez & P&iPISS» MWI; Comparative cost of painting a' dwelling or other building with strictly Pure White Lead and Linseed Oil, and OUR PUKE PREPARED paints." ••••* A building having a total surfuce of 6,900 square feet to be painted would require, under ordinary circunjstances, as follows: * V 480 lbs. Strictly Pure White Lead, at say 9c. peril).,- - - - - , $48.20 24 gallons Linseed Oil, at 75c. per gallon, 18.00- Time, Mixing and preparing paint, Dryers, wastage and absorption, at say 2c. per lb., - - "I • 24 gallons Pure Prepared Paint, at say $2.00, - 8 gallons Linseed Oil, at say 75c., - - - - . V, 9.!<36 .80 • The ma of Hannah liked mel I went up like a man, :(m And begged her daughter's But she refused her Hail. I talked to Susan kind and sw Did all that I ooald do, ^ Begged her to take my namiij 'Twas all in vain to Stie. » To Carrie did I breathe my toij And wanted her to marry;' My care fog her was heavy aj»*|| But they were light to Ca Elizabeth, how sweet was she How I remember yet! VS1 I bet that I would win her ] But tli eg I lost the Bet. Saidie I loved with all my he That love was not repaid;.' And while I olten spoke of it, >; My l®ve could not be Said. Dear Madeline, for whom I su With all the power I had, R«fuaed the offer of my love—J But I did not get Mad. The last, dear Lida, do Hoy#: ,)j O'er all the girls beside! I told her I would die for hec-4| I think I must have Lide, GREAT S0RE01 ioi For more than two ye joke of Bloomington Centers-it hope, that idle dream, that fqnl fancy, known as "Sam Sj: sion." The wits who congregated !! room and grocery of the Bl« Center post-office sometimes a sad consciousness of futility! best efforts; the column of fa local newspaper frequently pa) senses; but SamSperry'slank 1 ing figure as he descended, twice every week, from bis^k on the distant mountain,.tier." jiews from Washington/* iTnmn.nf n»aw^f(i| ~ le ;ht ive ||>«K %: ton »ly sir the ae Silver-Plated Ware, TABLE CUTLEEY, And a good assortment of Lamps, Lamp Fixtures, &c., and in fact hundreds of articles such as are needed every day; and one wonld appreciate better by seeiug than reading. We keep on hand A LARGE STOCK OF SINKS, Lead and Iron Pipe, CEMENT AND HORSESHOE DRAIN TILE, Cistern and Eubber Buoket Pumps, &o,, &c. Uprer-raion. w - ^ iy 'ficial dokkerine me?" Sam was accustome entering the post-office, witll ill-concealed consequence; and< answered in the negative, the loof surprise and incredulity whi^ spread his features was alwaya| and real as it had been 'during six months he had undergone jb&;0rst 6 blowv His recovery was as complete iui^ ii stantaneous, when, seated on the ooun-ter with the "boys," he derided th» very existence of his proud nation^ capital in terms of the most reckless .sareifem, or, in a softer mood, induced by icertpin strong potations, palliated ^ the- W|Hik-ness of official judges with a forbeftrahce which his listeners found evenfcmore irresistibly entertaining. \ * ;I.JJ .And General Jobbing, Done at abort notice by experienced workmen. 3.00 2.25 ':to In calling your attention to onr stook, we do noit forget that most important part that every oustomer is looking for, that is, to buy as low as possible.- We buy onr goods direct from the manufacturers, and we buy most of our ill in IN CAB-LOADliOTS," 27 gallons paint, costing >'* per gallon aboutf 1.86,••»#*:$&'" §50.2$ S a v i n g e f f e c t e d b y u s e o H — < — - £ our paint, - - - - m $20.55 The relative value of these Paints is always the same; whatever the price of White may be, the price of Quit P 4ovill correspond. —for ANT I SON, He*ardvn«, Oonn., JTCLES PEASE, HI Whioh enables us to sell as low city dealers, who are under city rents. is out* y*Tn to soil the bbiqo Quality of goods 011 much largei ; and it as low as can i ••-r. THE T. PEASE ^CCmFAlSTT $66^^: PEASI I1BTIIIV • r? •- -• • ;-v-;.,. .....>." ... .-... It!.' ® ^ ^ ?. '.C'te.--;' "They think they're comin? ito' down there to Washington, served on one occasion, rolling h upon his near neighbor on the ter with a look which was dark ifrj menace, and at the same time loccibly introducing the sharp point his plbow to that gentleman's ribs—"they they're com in' it over me, Washington. And all the ttni| ttey're hangin' off about my pension, Wh4's:acr cumulatin'P" Here Sam's <»m; was actually obliged to move aii i|ToIi or two away in order to escape .th^, too severe emphasis of that emaciated ,flibow. "Back pay!" chuckled that's what's accumulatin'—back J>ayJ.i ;t<et 'em hold off ten or a dozen y<fters Jonger, and I'll be swimmin' in back s*^x—I'll be fairly wallerin' in it." With which the deeply eonfide^ftla^ pect of Sam's face changed to a triyoph-ant simper, and, turning to nudge another companion (as he suppose#}'on his right, he inadvertently thrust elbow through the wrappage of^a parcel cf sugar, the contents of ; were scattered over the grocery j Sam's expression of dismay TftUf .piti ful- " '5? "Have it-charged to your bew^pay, Sam," cried an uproarious ful voice. Sam took up the cue/and ^ that bis descent from this West J&mot* ain, which had before been sigi^GMjl of a small invoice of skus*ksV ft&*/ h>We berries, and the like, at the Bloom|nCtt6t grocery, missed the hamperin^|^Eih|: of those hardly acquired Sam's business transactions a' —the the grocer and those jolly ; boys—were rounded by re] "Charge it to pension, Ned—rej^i sion or back pay, I don't dare|? Rarely, very rarely, find a document waiting for post-office, marked with the seal of the department of t&fr and opened it with fingers o: expectation, only to find a p: of painfully worded statistic: feet that "besides the twa ninety thousand filed ntly being entered, time each would receive eration," eto. His first ate Indignation Tension! I guess so, '11 be growing oter any and hope The gunshot upon which Sam compared with the harm which he had suffered, both in body and soul, from the soldiers' camp life, the southern marshes— above all, the prisons. "I don't known what Sam might 'a been, or what he might not 'a been," said Judge Hoi comb, a prosperous citizen of Bloomington, who had been incarcerated with Sam at Andersonville. " 'Pon my honor, boys, he began uncommon bright, though he wa'nt never what ye'd call pertick'ler tough or long winded. But I can tell ye one thing, Sam Sperry wan'n't nevei the same man after he come out o' that prison." Even after this asseveration I do not know that any of the frequenters of the Bloomington bazar remarked that the boyish head on Sam's bent shoulders, with its rings of close-curling light hair, was of a Byronic cast, or that his eyes, when not filmy from the effects of ague or rum, were of such a perfect and heavenly blue as is seldom seen even in theundimmed eyes of children. Sam was their Punch, their by-word, their theater comique; they would have paid twice the price of his lordly though prudent negotiations at the counter rather than miss the zest afforded by his Lemi-weekly appearance. With a touch of real pity too, perhaps, for their old comrade, they cajoled with liim in his forlorn hope, encouraged in him at all times the freest expression of his sentiments, flattered him, and regaled him. And often alas! the feet which had come shuffling down the mountain awkwardly enough and loosely enough, retraced their steps in a still more desultory and uncertain manner, and chance passers-by have told how Sam, pausing at length by some way-side fence, frequently nudged the post with his elbow, as though having jUst committed to it some gravely confidential or facetious remark. t.' There was one person whom Sam's weakness and derelictions failed to inspire with appreciative mirth. In the neighborhood of Sam's house on the mountain there were two other homes. One was possessed by Isaac Travers with his belligerent wife and numerous small children; in the other Mary Ellsworth dwelt alone with her mother. Years ago Sam and MaTy had gone down hand in hand to the school kept in the little hamlet at the foot of the moun„ tain. Mary still keeps the green-covered "Speller?' in which she!and Sam studied .Jbjieir lemons, together. And they were |jf |th| °£eftd-<of the class always, the fountain boy and girl—always at the ead of the class, and alwaysVrst and aost imperious ifc plav: Mai inris and saucy red lipS.' ' Then'Sam's parents died, and he went ovejr ;to help John Ellsworth in his mill, and$he work'prospered under his strong, blitite.hapd. i And as the days passed by, S^ip a^f Mary shrank coyly away from the^jftffi&Stionate intimacy of their childhood, and ended by falling as deeply in love with each other as though they had fiow'for the first time exchanged glance s the rapturous bounds of manhood and maidenhood. Their love, having Such tender root in the past, sent out bright branches of hope for the future, ap|; was as strong as life with them both. Would have borne anything for Sam;'and Sam,-who was of a quick and ijnletuaus nature, found his equilibrium in the sweet firmness of Mary's character and adored her for the loving sarcasm With which she rebuked his pet faults— such bright and captivating faults as Sam*B were then. | ^ Sam and Mary were engaged when the Wr broke out; and the two men of John Ellsworth's household went away, and the two women waited in their solitary hjpin$on the mountain, cheered by let- !t&3 at first; afterward their only hope lay in some chance returning figure along the road; and when Sam returned JO^i?fJohe day, weak, ague-shaken, demented, 4»ot still fjondly, foolishly faithful, Mary, called ol God to endure this greater sorrow than any death could bring, spent the solitude of one black night in terrible rebellion, and when the morning dawned, laid her broken heart at the foot of the Cross, and rose with a calm "I will—for evermore." b•. • v ^ ; Sam went back wonderingly to occupy the long deserted home of his childhood; but it was Mary's hand that brought him bread and meat, that made his bed, and swept his floor, and furnished his •gelpopr^home with every comfort. "" Sath knew that it was all changed somehow. The tongue once so winning-ly sarcastic was now ever too thoughtfully kind, the once laughing eyes too deeply compassionate. He sorrowed over it with ihe sorrow of a child. But he trusted Mary. She knew; she would set it all right in time. The light, the hope, thepromtse of his youth, they were all kept., waiting fof him somewhere in 'Miiry's great dark eyes. But when Sam came tottering up the hHl on his return home, he had brought with him a parcel the contents of which he haAnot revealed to any eye. It contained .his wedding clothes, new and s|eeki of the finest black broadcloth. In iltep&thetic loneliness of his home he acquired a habit of fondling these, of gloating over them, even of trying them ion before the glass; and then, as he stood ih his best ihtti'd, with his bonny hair dtosfellyteurle&tone never saw so sweet y^eak^a f-ice. Sam longed, yet ever, %lslMeWo appear before Mary in these splendid habiliments. That strange bhiiis mind deterred him. He was never so shy, so simple, so conscious of his lost estate, as when in "Miss Mary's" presence-^never withal so strangely happy and content, One evening, as it^folilhef.jthe wedding garments || ho&efilled all his thougUt. <jr <*red for any girl but you, :$«tme& abrupt!v; with a ispark of the old fire in his- eyes. "I—I never could.;'' ; * 'l&fTary answered gently, "I ybu ever oouliJ." i^yott promised to marry me changing, for another instant, to a look of solemn wonder and reproach. A deathly pallor crept over Mary's face. Then she came close to Sam, and laid her hand on his, and looked into his eyes with all the beautiful tenderness and pity of her deeply tried soul. "I shall always be true to you, Sam," she said. "There are some things we can't understand. We must be patient. But that—what we hoped for once—now —in this world—that, dear Sam, must never be!" "Yes, Mary," Sam answered, sweetly obedient, thrilled through and through by the touch of her dear hand, "that must never be." It was all right, somehow. "Mary knew." But he folded the wedding clothes and put them away that night as one who should never need to take them down again. After this the ruined life clung still closer to that strong and patient one, and the little services which Sam was accustomed to perform for Mary, when not suffering with the ague, or following after the fond hallucination of his "pension"— the fetching of wood and the drawing of water—these lost to his poor adoring mind every base and menial quality, and were like the offering of a devotee laid tremblingly at the feet of an angel. And the time passed all too swiftly for the work of Mary's hands. Besides her ministrations to Sam and t er mother, her generous thought for the wretched Travers family, the name of Mary Ellsworth, for the gracious health and sympathy which it implied, was known and loved in all the villages below; and in times ol sickness or sorrow, or added care, the journey up the mountain-side was cheap which could procure a day of those coveted services. It was the affliction of unexpected company which had overtaken Judge Holcomb's wifeless home and refractory servants. Mary, with rare firmness, established there in a day her universal .rule of peace. Among the other guests was a young actress from New York, the judge's niece, blonde, handsome, magnificent. At evening, as Mary stood, before her return home, waiting an instant in the hall, so quiet and demure, with her dark hair parted in an old, old fashion, and her sad lustrous eyes and1 her face breathing that ineffable refinement which the calm endurance of some hidden and exalted sorrow alone can give, the dashing young actress advanced upon her suddenly, and folded Jger with an impetuous^gesture iu henHfarong white !" ahajiMfoer. passioned, when, some weeks afterward, he left his smart horse and buggy at Mary's gate, and entered the house. "I formed a very favorable opinion of you, Mary," said this grandiose personage, "a good many years ago, and I've never had any cause to alter that opinion. In fact, I come in here to say that I should like to have you come down to my house in the capacity of a wife." There was a grace, a perfect self-reliance, in Mary's old-fashioned manner, which relieved it from any imputation of stiffness, as she answered, in much the same words that she had used in addressing Sam some time before, but with such a different tone in the ring of her clear voice: '"I thank you, but that can never be." And the judge drove away, amazed and disappointed, but most of all sorry for Majy. Sam was the next caller. He had seen the smart buggy at Mary's gate. He entered, timid and hesitating, and sat for some time shifting uneasily about in his chair. At length: "I—I never cared for any girl but you, Mary. I—I never could," he repeated, earnestly. And Mary answered, as she had done before, "No, Sam, I don't believe you ever could." Sam drew his sleeve quickly acioss his eyes. "You—you ain't goin' to leave the mountain, are you, Mary?" he gasped. "You ain't goin' to leave the old mountain, Mary?" , - 1 |- "Never!" Mary answered, and, as before, her tone quieted and consoled him. After what seemed a long time, though the tears were still standing in Sam's blue eyes. "I forgot, Mary," he said meekly. ''I came in to say—you're young yet, and handsome, Mary—and if you had a bettter chance—I don't know what I—what we should do without you —but if you had a better chance—yeu— you mustn't—you know—Mary—" There he paused. Mary did not smile, but her heart yearned oyer Sam as a mother's might over a child who has tried in vain to be good and brave and unselfish. And Sam went away comforted. It was the third bleak winter since Sam's return to the mountain, and he meanwhile growing weaker and sillier with each successive season, but ever faithful in his inquiries after his pension at the Bloomington post-office. The Bloomington boys thought it a rare joke to impress upon his mind that the only reason why Miss Mary deferred giving him her hand in marriage was his continued inability to obtain his pension. "Jest wait till you get your pension, Sam," said Ned Hemingway, the store-keeper* delicately hinting on this point, "and then see!" * And Sam doubted utterly at first—away down in his heart doubted always; but as he lent himself more and mow to the erratic fancy, it fired and consumed hiis brain. One night, from the alternate chills atd fevers which shook his frame, Sam fell asleep. Instead of his lone dark room, the road winding from the mountain to the village rose before his eyes. That road, usually so tortuous and long was straight and bathed In light. He traversed it. At the end a palace, gate, and at the gate a white-winged angel stood, his pension in her shining band.- Sam gazed. jAbove those peaceftl *ings was Mary's face. Shesmiledas she had smiled upon him long ago. He woke, and slept no more that night. With the morning he put on his wedding clothes. No doubt or hesitation possessed him now. There was a terrible exultation in his eyes. This time he did not'stop, as was his wont, at Miss Mary's house. The road down the mountainside was tortuous and long. There was the palace gate at the end; no pension. Those who watched Sam's face in this last instance of his cver-recurring dissapoiRt-ment say that a look came over it which had never been there before. He rested on the counter, and drowsed, and almost fainted, but he would not drink. This provoked undoubted astonishment. Sam's dying flesh craved the cup with an awful thirst, but Mary's eyes were stronger, and Mary's eyes seemed to be upon him, and he would not drink. "It would choke me, boys," he tried to say, turning away weakly. He manifested a desire to make his will. It was a rare occasion at the Bloomington grocery. "Tt's all to go to Mary," he exclaimed excitedly, "pension, back pay, and all." The last flame of the fever was flickering and wasting in his eyes. He rested and dozed again. At noon he started lor home; at four o'clock he had traversed only half of the lonely winter road; at the foot of the mountain—it was sunset —he staggered and fell down. We shrink from the records of fate so sad. We need not fear. One greater than we, and more compassionate by far, comforts the death of His lambs when they fall in the desolate places. The pain in Sam's body eased. Across his mind flitted a brief trouble. * "I wish Mary could know," he said, "that I wouldn't touch it—for her sake." And later and more solemnly: "I wish Mary could know—that I seem—now— to understand. I seem—now—to see—" An old story tells of the prodigal who wandered, and who came back to his father's house; of the purpose, running through all the weakness and sin. of the wonder and suffering of our human lives to make us hungry and to bring us home. So over Sam's wasting face there crept first the infinite unbearable hunger of the soul, and then the quiet look of one whom God leads home; and the blue eyes, piercing now beyond the light of sun or moon, met unshrinkingly the shadows of the deepening night, and unshrinkingly the clear gaze of the solemn stars. i And Mary knew. When they brought Sam home to her in his wedding gar-bride; thelost8piri|ftothest«fensjiaiand beauty of its first estate. And she kissed the dead lips in that last act of perfect love and consecration, and knelt and thanked God. Ifff; A few days affef Sam's death, Ned Hemmingway, entering Mary's house, either from curiosity or worthier motives, with a stammered apology, and the words, "Of course it ain't o' no account, but I thought ye might like to keep it," handed Mary the will, in which Sam bad devised to her his pension. As he did this, the mirthful grocer cast down his eyes, and biushed to the roots of his hair. Mary took the little parchment, read it quietly, and just the shadow of a smile plajed about the youthful tenderness of her lips. Then she turned to the grocer, and unconsciously transfixed him with her clear, thoughtful, haif-inattentive gaze. "I think Sam owed you something," she said. "Oh, no, no," stammered the grocer. "That's all right. The boys '11 see to that." "I should prefer to have you give me the bill," Mary said; and still transfixed by that courteously compelling gaze, the abashed and reluctant grocer complied. Mary keeps the will in which Sam gave her his pension, with a lock of hair that was golden and boyish, and the green-covered spelling-book. Sometimes in the pauses of her toil she can smile her tender smile over these; she can weep blessed tears over them. . ; But if any one should say that hers had been a famished heart,—famished for all the joyful possibilities, the wifehood, the motherhood that might have been— the thought would pale before the tranquil glory of her eyes. There has come to the life of this lone watcher on the mountain a fullness such as feysr . may know. The autumn winds that speak with their low wail of death to the dwellers in the valley land below bring to her clearer sense sweet messages, of home.—Harper's Monthly. : DIDN'T STABD A sensational drama has recently been performed in the chief theater of Moscow, the crowning situation of the piece being a combat in a rocky pass between a lion and an Arab chief. The lion scrambles up a steep ascent, and is about to spring from its summit upon his foe, when the man brings him down with a well aimed shot. The part of the lion had been sustained successfjlly by a trained gymnast named Alexeivitch until about a fortnight ago, when that artist suddenly fell ill;and the management was compelled to intrust bis role to an active super, who'undertook it at a few hours' notice. When the time arrived for his debut, he bounded on the stage with admirable vigor, and scuttled up the cliff in irreproachable style. But when the Arab chief discharged his musket, the lion, utterly thrown oft his guard by the report, stood erect on his hinder pa we, crossed h'mself devoutly, and, exclaiming, "Heaven help us!" hurriedly descended the cliff tail foremost, amid the jubilant shouts of the audtenc^ An unsuccessful vocalist went to the workhouse, and delighted the inmates with his singing. He said it was a natural thing for him to do, as he bad b- en singing to poor houses ever sinee he began his careergm ' i - - S .-w . . . . . . . 'V;s'c'r;v: '5^ "Joint" occupation.—A butcher's How to make a tall man short.—Rob him of his purse.; When a friend corrects a fault in you he does you the greatest act of friend-ship. Generosity is theP^i^^&finSbit oSf high birth; pity and gratitude are its, attendants. England's oldest baronet is a Hebrew, , Sir Moses Montefiore, a man of great benevolence and blameless record. - ; # Norway has discovered that telegraph lines scare the wolves. They are proba- >• bly afraid of the extortionate rates. Men are frequently like tea. Their real strength and goodness is not drawn out till they have been for a short time in hot water. ... The prince of Siam has been in Vienna recently to purchase arms, and engage Austrian instructing officers for the Siamese .army. , % According to statistics just issued, the import of grain into Germany has far exceeded the export during the first nine months of the current year. A recipe for lemon pie vaguely adds: "Then sit on die stove and stir constantly." Just as if any one could sit on a stove without stirring constantly. It is carrying things a little too far when a bald-headed man attempts to cover the top of his head with hair grown away dewn on the side of his neck. Conjurors astonish an audience by taking rolls of ribbon from their mouths, but then it is a common thing to see a carpenter take hammer and nails out of his chest. The Chinese are becoming numerous in Chicago. Hating Christianity, as the Celestials do, they seek for locations where they will have but little of it to contend with. A country youth, who had returned home,was asked by his anxious father if he was guarded in his; conduct in town. "Oh, yes," was the reply; "I was guarded by two policemen part of the time." :«B There were twins, and the little sister?;:# was brought to see them for the first time by her aunt. She looked from oner to the other curiously for awhile, thencj asked: "Which does dear auntiemean,^ to keep?" * If you don't . shouidbe good price paid." ^ A newly married lady was telling an- ' other how nicely her husband could write. "Ob, you should just see some of his love letters." "Yes, I iaow," was the freezing reply, "I've got a bushel of 'em in my trunk." Pride's fall: "Yes," said Clara, "your Maltese kitty is pretty enough, but he never can come up to my bird." That was all she knew about it. The kitty did come up to her bird that very day, and it was all day with the bird. A news item says that a Scranton, Pa. lady kisses all the tramps who call at her gate, for their mothers' sake. She seems to have solved the tramp question. Tramps never call at her gate the second time. They prefer ten days in the coun-ty jail. An Irishman met a friend of his. "Ob, Pat!" said he, in great distress; "how will I be able to sell me horse? Didn't the baste's tail come off two days affther I bought him?" "Shure thin," said Pat gaily; "sell him to a Wholesale man, ma booy. He'll soon ie-tail him!" A full-bearded grandfather recently had his beard shaved off, showing a clean face for the first time for a number of years. At the dinner-table his three-years- old granddaughter noticed it, gazed long with wondering eyes, and finally ejaculated: "Grandfather wh^f^ead «i K--va have you got on?" BIRDS' TELEGRAPH 8Y8TEM. On a number of occasions, writes Maurice Thompson to the Chicago Tribune, I have closely observed the woodcock's system of telegraphy. The bird's mandibles are furnished with extremely sensitive nerves, so arranged that when the point of the bill rests upon the ground the slightest sounds are conveyed to its brain. Standing upon the water-saturated earth of a spongy bog, our bird utters a faint, keen cry, scarcely audible at two rods' distance, then immediately lets fall his bead till the tip ol the bill touches the ground, and listens atten- | tively. If his mate hears him she replies^ puts her bill to the ground, and listens1 in turn. So the love messages go back and forth as long as the birds have anything to say. This sort of thing usually happens in the soft twilights from May , to the middle of August, though oo*%.3 casionally I have seen and heard it In the broad light of a summer day. In June, 1868,1 made the following note: "To-day sketched a woodcock in th^^fi listening attitude. Shall try to get fur|f ther stndies." ^ Five years later I succeeded ii getting three more sketches, and last year (1880) I got four more. - Many of these aad!^ kindred sketches have been Obtained at* the end of indescribable ^rt and'Iabo*!^ The woodcock is so shy, so attentive, 90 > sensitive, that the least sound will canae it to skulk and hide—a thing it do«i^ with even greater cunning and tracced* than the quail. The only way in wlrlcft j I have ever b£en ableto get nc to the bird to sketch itsratnral attitudes^ has been to crawl on the wet .gft """1 ^ through, tangly weedsa^sferabfj I reached a hiding pla<*s on the, ofits feeding ranKe,a *""1' and silently wktob i Si S
|Title||Thompsonville press, 1881-12-01 - Page 1|
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