The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-01-28

ing very PALE but quite nlmselr and Settlus
the men to work as usual. said nothing
!, about what had happened the day before
Something in his face silenced me; but see
ing him so steady and composed, took heart
and began to hope he had fought through
the worst Of his trouble. BY and-by the
I1renchlnan came through the yard; gay anG
off hand, with his cigar in his mouth, and his
hands in bis pockets George turned sharp
ly away into one Of the workshops and shut
the door. drew deep breath Of relief. My
dread was to see him come to an open quar-
rel, and l felt that as long as they kept clear
of that all would be well.
| Thus the Monday went by, and the Tues
day; and still George kept aloof from me-
| had sense enough not to be hurt by this.
| felt he had good right to be silent, if 81
lence helped him to bear his trial better; and
| made up my mind never to breathe an
Tcrher syllable on the subject, unless he be-
/ gan.
Wednesday came. I had oversight myself
that morning, and came to work a quarter af-
ter the hour, expecting to be fined; for George
was very strict as foreman of the yard, and
| treated friends and enemies just thesame. In
stead Of blaming me, however, he called me
up, and said
''Ben, whose turn is it this week to sit
iup?
| Mine, sir" replied. q always called him
''Sir' in working hours)
"WeIl, them you may go home to-day, and
the same on Thursday and Friday for there's
a batch Of work for the ovens tonight, and
| therell be the same Tomorrow night and the
( night after
/ ''AIl right, rir, said I. Then I'll be here
! by seven this evening"
F'No, half-past nine will be soon enough
I've some accounts to make up, and shall
be here myself till then, Mind you are true to
time though"
I 'Ill be as true as the clock sir" replied,
and was turning away when he called me back
again.
you're good lad, Ben" said he. ''Shake
hand"
seized his hand and preside it warmly.
''If I'm good for anything, George" I
answered with all my heart, Its you who
have made me So So God bless you for
It'll"
'Amen?. said he in troubled voice, put
ting his hand to his hat.
And SO we parted.
IN general, | went to bed by day when l
was attending to the firing by night but this
morning 1 had already slept longer than usu-
al, and wanted exercise more than rest. So
ran home, put bit OF bread and meat i'll
my pocket, snatched up my big thorn stick,
and started off for a long day in the coun-
try.
When came home, it WAS quite dark and
beginning to rain, just as it had begun to rain
at about the same time that wretched Sunday
7 Il,. b,l
early supper and d nap i'll the chimncy-corn-
er, and '. ent down to the works few min
utes befor half-ps nine.
Arriving at the factory gate, found it ajar,
and so walked in and closed it after me. | re-
member thinking at the time it was unlike
Georges usual caution to leave it so but it
passed from my mind the next moment
Having slipped in the bolt | went straight
over to Georges little counting house, where
the gas was shining cheerfully in the window.
Iere also somewhat to my surprise, | found
the 1osr open ana the room empty went
in. The threshold and part of the floor was
wetted by the driving rain. The wages book
was open on the desk, Georges pen stood in
the ink, and his hat hung on its usual peg in
had gone round to the ovens; SO, following
him, took down his hat and carried it with
me, for it was now raining very fast.
The clearinghouse lay just opposite, Oh
the ether side Of the yard There were three
Of them, opening one out of the other; and i'll
each, the great furnace filled ali the middle of
the room. These furnaces are in fact, large
kiIns built OF brick, with an oven closed in by
al iron door III the centre of each, and a Chin
ney going up through roof The pottery,
enclosed in seggarB, stands round inside on
shelves, and has to be turned from time to
time while the firing is going on. 70 tnrn
these seggars, test the heat and keep the fires
up was my work at the period Of which am
now telling you, Major
''Well, l went through the baking-houses
one after another, and found all empty alike
Then strange, vague, uneasy feeling came
over me, and began to wonder what could
have become of George. It was possible that
he might be in one of the work shops so
ran over to the counting house, lighted lam
tern, and made a thorough survey Of the yards
| tried the doors they were locked as usual
peeped into sheds; they were all vacant.
called George! George!" in every part Of
theouter premises; but the wind and rain
drove my voice, and no other voice replied to
it. Forced at last to believe that he was real
Iy gone, took his hat back to the counting
house, put away the wages, book extingush-
ed the gas, and prepared for my solitary
watch
The night was mild, and the heat III the
baking -rooms intense | knew, by expert
ence that the ovens had been overheated, and
that none Of the proclaim must go in at least
for the next two hcurg; 50 l carried my stool
to the door, settled myself III o sheltered cor
ner where the air could reach me, but not the
rain, and fell to wondering where George could
have gone, and why he should not have wait
ed till time appointed That he had left in
haste was clear-not because his hat remain
| ed behind for he might have had cap with
| him; but because he had left the book open,
and the gas lighted.
/ Perhaps one of the workmen had met with
some accident, and he had besn summoned
away SO urgently that he had no time to think
Of anything; perhaps be would even now
come back presently to see that all was
right before he went home to his lodgings
Turning these things over in my mind,
grew drowsy, my thoughts wandered, and
fell asleep.
cannot tell how long my nap lasted. I had
walked great distance that day, and slept
hea vily; but awekeall in moment, with I
sortof terror upon Inc, and, looking up saw
George Barnard sitting on a stool before
the oven door, with the freight full upon hi;
face.
Ashamed to be found sleeping, l started to
my feet. At the same instant, he rose, turn
ed away without even looking towards me
and went out into the next room.
''Don't be angry, George" | cried, follow
ing him. ''None Of the seggars are in.
knew the fires were too strong, an -"
The words died on my lips / had follow
ed him from the first room to the second from
the second to the third, and in the third
lost him
l could not believe my eyes. 1 opened tn
end door leading into the yard, and looke'
out but he was nowhere in sight. | wen
round to the back Of the baking-houses look
, ed behind the furnaces, ran over to the count
: ing-house, called him by his name owe