The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1860-11-23
Mtlseellal1eolts.
MARK aoLDsMITH's LESSON

MARX G0ldsmlth was always callcu p" an
odd sort of man" by the people Of our
village. He lived in the old red house that
stands at the Four Corners, where tho high
branching elms overhang the roof, and make
the wide, open, green yard in front OF 1t
shady all the summer long.
Travellers used to stop their tired horses
at the /" Old Red, as it was then familiar
ly called, and let them rest awhile, and then
drove them through the brook, just across
the way, to drink its pure water. which
witha gentle murmur, ripplcd down through
Marks green meadows. Yet but few ever
came to tarry long at the Old Red, for
though Mark had large farm, and spread q
good table, he was so surly himself, and his
housckecper so precise, that none felt at case.
Some few Of the old neighbours, who REM
embercd Mark in his earlier days, had chari-
ty enough to say, Z" All, the old Squire was
quite another man before his wifo died !!
That broke him down."
But, at the timo Of which wo write, tho
aforesaid housokcepcr had found in Jack
Wallace, the butcher, q 'congenial spirit, rs
she confdcntially told tho 'Squirc's maiden
sister. How that could DO nobody quite un-
derstood. for two persons more unlike were
not to be found in the whole county of Bcrk-
shire. But Nancy Tompkins was well to
do in the world, while Jack Wallaco's ai-
fairs stood ut skies and seyens, 30 that nobody
dared trust him, and, when he found that
Nancy Tompkins would, why, he thought
they were congenial spirits, too, and 80 they
were married.
But what was to become Of Mark Gold
smith
1t would be hard to tell, If II had not been
that cheerful, hazel-cyed daughter was a
part of Marks household, and had, under
the training of Nancy Tompkins, grown up
into one OF the ncatest, brightest little house,
keepers that was ever seen on farm.
Now Mark loved this daughter more than
words could tell, but he always acted as if
he was afraid she would find it out. So
when she came to him with any new plan,
or to tell him Of some pleasant thing that
had occurred, he would send her away with o
pshaw, and rough word or two beside.
Yet, il he found she was really grieved, he
would set his wits to work to contriye some
thing that would make her happy again.
A ride to the shire town on business would
DO sure TO come up the next day, and, of
course, Mary must 20 to hold the mare,
when he got out to 60 into the bank and
the store.
Now Mary liked ride of this kind right
well, especially as it usually resulted in the
present OF new gown Of French calikcr,
as Mark called il, or what shc liked still
better, book from Giles county bookstore.
II was an extra offence on his part that got
Mary this favor, for, though Mark liked
books well enough, he thought it was no
use to lumber tho house with en- lie
took the Cul,iyator; and Sister Sally took
the Recorder, and that was as much readin'
as he could get through with. For his part
he had no idea of weakening his brains,
taxin' 'cm so. Mary might il she would
aud then Mark would give one Of his grunts,
and stop talking about it.
But these occasional flashes of affection
that broke out upon Mary could not mako
amends for kind words now and then, ut the
very time they were needed. "Ifhe would'n
say pshaw' to mo-" she would say to her
self, - could get along; but that is such q
hateful word, as though he didn't caro- bit
whether l was happy or not"
Some two months before the time when
our story commences, good pason Hopkins
had died, and his vacant pulpit was now fill
cd by young minister to whom tho society
moro latterly gave call.
/, was many weeks before Mark Gold
smith could be induced to 60 and hear the
youngster,' as no called him, preach. But
when he did, Mary felt almost sure that for
once her father would agree with her in the
opinion Of the minister, So she broke the
customary silence Of their homeward ride,
by saying:
=" Now, father, did you ever hear better
sermon p
'Pshaw.' said Mark. one of parson Hop
kins' was worth forty on EN-
Mary sank back in the chaise with sigh,
saying mentally. It's Of no use; my father
is bent upon disliking everything and every
body
Tho young minister had never called at the
Old Red, but he had got as far as Aunt Sar-
abs, which was only two houses Of, and il
90 occurred that tho very day and tho very
hour he was there, Mary stepped in to 90
Aun tSarah, too. She was % surprised on
going into the parlor to find visitor there,
that she stopped abashcd in the doorway,
with her sun-bonnct in her hand, and her
cheeks blushing like June roses.
My niece, Mary Goldsmith, said Aunt
Sarah.
The minister rose and held out his hand
and, while Mary stammecd out au apology
for intruding, he sad, with considerable em
phasis: