The Xenia sentinel. [volume] (Xenia [Ohio]) 1863-186?, 1864-12-16
THE OLD MILL.
A LEAF FROM THE RECORD OF CHILDHOOD.
By E. ". N.

It was a sad, sad day to US children Of
the Mil Cottage, when dear old Uncle
Ben, fer many years our fathers trusted
miller, was carried to his last resting place.
The event, the first of the kind in the
history Of our young lives, was strange
and incomprehensible one. Dear, bluff,
old Uncle Ben, who entered so heartily
intoour sports. and who had always a kind
word and smile for us,-could he be ta-
ken from Us forever? It was a puzzling
subject to little Kate and myself, and we
stole quietly from tie house and climbed
up the steep lii just across the mill stream,
to our play house, aud sat down to discuss
it in our own childish way. Much hard
toiiing had that play house on the hill
cost US, for the heavy boards had to be
carried one by one ~ the steep paths, but
it was done at last, ana very proud was
Kate and I Of our house, and many an
hour of happiness was spent there percbed
high above the glitteriug stream and Cot
tage, while the flower genmed door yard
and oleanly kept garden were spread out
like beautiful picture below US. It was
here VIC came, and looking down on the
quiet scene below, we talked Of the
strange event. The old mill, with high
peaked roof and many windows coated thick
with the dust Of years, stood close at
hand and it seemed as though It too were
dead, and that its spirit had flown with
that of Uncle Ben. The rattle of the
windows and the monotonous hum of the
machinery was stilled. and naught broke
the quiet of the sweet summer day but
the dash of the unused water that poured
over the dam, instead of driving the big
wheel in its unending rounds as usual. |
Similar thoughts filed the head of my lit
tie fazen-haired playmate, as she asked
me:
And will the mill always be shut up,
now that Uncle Ben is dead p
I was three years older than my little
sister and she looked to me as an oracle Of
wisdom, which respect made me think my
opinion of great weight and Importance. I
Ny reply was
why no, you silly girl, where would
the people get their corn and wheat ground .
if the mill was closed up? No indeed, /
there will be another miller in Uncle Ben's
place and the work will go on all the
same
I tried to speak bravely, but the thought
of any one but our old friend in the mill
almost choked me.
well, I never want to play there any
said little Katie passionately, .no
one will ever love US again like dear I'm
Gle Ben"
Little Kate was right and I knew it too
well. From our earliest recollections I'm
Gle Ben had been the miller, and at last
had almost seemed to US a part and parce
Of the quaint old Mill. He had always
a welcome for US, and as much as we pri-
zed our.out-of-door rambles and the play
ground on the hill, the mysterious hooks
and craunies of that old building had a
fascination for US that was irresistible. In
the dim upper stories where the big beams
we're drapped in cObwebs that hung
down heavy with their loadsof dust, among
the huge piles of grain, we spent many
rainy day and Uncle Ben's patience though
sorely tried by our wild scamperisg up
aud down, never gave way, but on the
contrary he seemed to enterinto our childish
sports with a zcst that closely endeared
lim to our hearts. Little blue-eyed Kate
was his especial pet. Careless of the
soiling dust, he would carry her in his
strong arms and show her the black water
n the gloomy fume below, or the big wa
turning solemnly around, its long
rms dripping with sparkling drops; and
IS she kissed his dusty cheek, he would
press her close to him, thinking perhaps OF
ais own little pet whom he had laid in the
,hurch-yard by her mothers side, years
before. This was tho dear friend for whose
oss wO grieved that summer day, and no
7ondcr little Kate thought the life Of the
I'D mill was gone forever with him.
But the next day the wide doors were
opeu again and the jar Of the machinery
vas heard once more, while the old wheel
urnod slowly around in its own solemn