The northern tribune. [volume] (Bath, Me.) 1847-1855, 1848-01-28

| uoWh ny ulsedse, tldL Wastes the 1oituAe a.
it does the frame.
Something of all these gave hobbling gait
to the financial progress of Uncle Job" who
lived for wears in bit of shantee, as Erin
would say, on sandy belt of the Atlantic
shore. We say Atlantic shore, for it gives
great latitude to the mind attempting to fix
the precise spot of his abode, and feelings of
respect for the sanctity of private experiences
forbid us to particularize. slrsH s8
Uncle Job-no relative of ours reader--he
was one of those good souls, who, being
uncle to nobody in particular, but having the
best of ancle-ly qualities, became fathers
brother to everybody "Uncle job" Ire
peat, to finish my sentence, for if you have
noticed, the last statement was parentheticab
as indeed this is, was once in easy circum-
stances, hale and hearty, the husband of one
| wife, who had the fortitude and cheerfulness
of dozen, and father of seven children. great
and small, five of whom sat at his board, but
two awaited their parents in heaven. He
lived, then, in neat white cottage, on fine
farm and as there were not many farms in the
narrow neck of land he occupied, you would
have known Uncle Jobs meadows at glance,
for they were the greenest, and yielded the
heaviest swath, and were shorn by the blithest
| mowers. But he had little skill to make all
| ends meet, little of what small souls call pru-
dence, and great ones meanness and withal
heavier loss that want of tact struck at heart
and vgor and competence at once, when two
of the fair and cherished children of his love
fell under slow, consuming disease, and the
sage guesses of quack with diploma, who
sent his dear girls to heaven, and pocketed
half his farm for the kindness. aaa
| Then very kind neighbor-who had won
the name of sly" for the strict secresy
which he kept up between his right hand and
his left-while the generous right was drop
ping pennies into the contribution box, in
| innocent ignorance of its fellow thrust the
| ready left round Uncle Jobs cottage and
, remnant Of farm, in the shape of loan, and
| drew it back in the shape Of mortgage, and
after few years Of kindness and intrigue.
the rich and honest Sly" relieved the
troubled farmer of his worldly cares in the
farm, by a" foreclosure" and "ejectment,"
we believe the lawyers call them. Whatever
the techmicalities are, the fact was that poor
Job, and Nancy, his wife, and Jane, and John,
and Walter, and Sammy, and little Bob, the
children, must budge-must quit the loved
house, the dear flower beds, the sweet mead
| nYs. and the graves Of Ellen and Mary. that
SIDE by side, enclosed by white paling in the
great meadow, invited the family often to
turn IN and weep or smile, as human love or
heavenly faith. holy alike, should prompt.
Poor Job, he took it more to heart than
Nancy did nay, he took it more to tongue,
tor she, brave woman, swallowed down her
grief, and started on her pilgrimage with
|" Never mind, Job, the sea shall be our farm,
and the house will serve us yet"
Now the ry-house was barn-like edifce,
fitted for curing fish, and was hardly dyv
house for family to make their abode in.
But Job took the baby, and John-a tall.
how hn
with their few goods Jane, older than John,
lovely sixteen, carried the looking glass in
her hands; Walter bore the clock dial, for he
was trusty boy, though younger than John.
and the good mother led little Sammy, and
carried one cherished picture" Christ wash
ing the disciples feet mot elegant to con
noisseurs, but something for humble folks to
love.
And so they went on their pilgrimage
across the great meadow, with a tear as they
passed, tor the sleepers there, and a calm
thought OF thankfulness for their souls in
heaven, beyond the reach of want-across
the berry pasture, over the creek, and beyond
the sand hills, which were the walls that
nature reared to defend the rich upland from
the sands and winds of the sea-shore. There,
on the wide belt of level sand, with only here
and there coarse clumps of grass to relieve ID.
the dry-house, now the house OF the poor
family, stood. 1t had one wooden window.
and one glass one, both toward the south and
the sea. A sand hill, covered with coarse
grass, defended it on the north, half burying
it, and shutting out the pleasant home they had
left, from sight.
Into two rooms and loft, Job had divided
his new home. Here they bestowed their
ew goods. No COW, no pig, no garden
Utmost no garden, for the sand was close
round them-no plastered walls, no pleasant
ields had they, who once had the pleasantest.
ohm was indignant, and his manly face
lowed with determination. as he declared he
would have the old home again, and see them