Des Moines courier. ([Ottumwa] Iowa) 1848-1854, 1854-01-26

their master stood in the snow, patting
ihe dog and talking to the boy for the
topics VI the place he had jus, mention
ed seemed to have strange interest in
his ears. Many we're the questions
long The answers. Blu. when they came
to speak Of the old woman in his faith.
er's house, who was not his grandmoth
er. nor his relative. but only a poor pen-
soner and whose name was Morris, his
auditors interes, deepened and even his
manner awoke i'll the cOachman's mind
a bis Of curiosity which drove his impa.
thence away.
III.
The shovelling has ceased; that has
been left for some other hands to do.--
The coachman has been sent away
fhe dog is crouching in the Sleigh
The astonished boy has been pressed in
10 the sea. beside the wealthy owner Of
the whole equipage, and is well wrap.
ped in buffalo skins. The merchant
him self takes the reins, and away to.
ward The Hoboken ferry dash the fresh
horses at the top Of their speed. The
water side is soon reached. The boat
i'll time touches the Jersey shore. The
travellers are swiftly drawn along the
hilly road; all needing neither the won.
derIng questions of his guest a. his side,
nor the sharp cutting of the wintry air,
Morris Morton urges his horses to their
topmost speed. The hills are slipping
far behind, and trees and fences, barns
and farms are quickly gliding by.
In two hours drive they come to the
brow OF high hill, at the bottom OF
which lay the village Of Brookfeld--an
old church, at The head of ,he village
common; the parsonage a, its side; a
large red school house at the foot; and
houses skirting the whole extent How
the breast Of The merchhnt heaved--how W
convulsive the grasp upon the reins be-.
came, as he gazed for the first time,
with the eyes of maturity, upon the
home which, for many years, hat re-
ceived no thought from him.
"Ghost Of Las, Nights Par,y!" this
was thy haadiwork!
Il live great ways beyond the church
around by the canal" said the boy, and
his strange conductor rather seeming to
listen than TO hear. Peter Pa,ler chat.
ted on. "Yonder's the house where the
old lady. whom you spoke OF, used to
ii,e--so father says. He rem smbers
her well, and the doctor, her husband.
They were rich then.'
"Slop, boy! Damna.ion! dom. you
- you frigh,en The horses" said the
merchant. writhing in his seat. bu. chang
ing the words he would have said
"But no; talk lower, and then they may
not heed. What more said your father
of them!" added Mr.. Morton, with a
strange inconsistency Of speech. turning
again to his young companion.
Little more, sir, except that their oa-
ly child, when father was boy, was
sent by them to boarding sci, h,ol, and
died, they said; and then they wen. out
west, and los. their money, except the
hille house which father lives in now
She boards the rent out with father every
+, ear, Mrs. Morris does. Do you know
her. sir"
Know her! No! l do not know
her. boy. ] only came out here for The
sake OF whim-.o give you ride, you
know; and rm TO take you back, righ.
away, before your master misses you
that's ALL" replied the merchant, with
spasmodic utierance Of sentences. "And
yet Ill atop. Perhaps your father would
like some money for Chiis,ras box.
Is il here he lives!"
Thus saying. the silenced Peter point
ed 10 a little house near canal, where a
hale and hearty man stood chopping
wood, stopping in much aatonishmepi to
see SO gay an establishment reined up at
the d0or--an establishment much deep.
ened as he further saw his son and heir
leap lightly from the sleigh, followed by
the well known dog.
"A merry Christmas. father, il it is a
day too soon!" cried the boy, as he ran
toward him. Rover seemed TO catch the
meaning Of The greeting. too, for he
leaped and barked upon the man as if
he were going mad with Joy. "But |
forgot" he added. running back to hold
the horses, and then TO tie them to the
worn and olden ssumpy pos. before the
door.
CHAPTER FIFTH.