Delaware tribune. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1867-1877, 1867-11-14
St the aNoods.
[FRoM TIE ATLANTIC MoNTHLY.1
IN THE GRAY GOTH.
A Story of the Lumbermen.

If the wick of the big oil lamp had been
cut straight, don't believe it would ever
have happened.
Where is the poker, Johnny Can't you
push back that for'ard log little9 Dear,
dearl Well, 1t doesn't make much differ
ence does II Something always seems to
all your Massachusetts fires; your hickory
is green, and your maple is gnarly, and the
worms cat out your oak like sponge. l
haven't seen any thing like what call fire,
not since Mary Ann was married, and
came here to stay. Gas long as you live,
father" she said and in that very letter she
told me should always have an open fire,
and how she wouldn't let Jacob put in the
air-tight in the sitting-room, but had the
fireplace kept on purpose. Mary Ann was
good girl always, if remember straight,
and I'm sure don't complain. Isn't that q
pine-knot at the bottom of the bashen ?
There that's better.
Let me see; began to tell you something,
didn't 1? Dyes; about that winter of Al.
1 remember now. declare, can't get over
it, think you never heard about it, and you
twenty four year old come Christmas, You
don't know much more, either, about Maine
folks and Maine fashions than you do about
China,-though it's small wonder, for the
matter of that, you were such little shaver
when Uncle Jed took you. There were a
great many of us, it seems to me, that year,
most forget how many;-we buried the
twins next summer, didn't we?-then there
was Mary Ann, and little Nancy, and--well,
coffee was dcarer than ever I'd seen it, !
know, about that time, and butter selling
for nothing; we just threw our milk away,
and there wasn't any market for eggs be-
sides doctors bills and Isaac to be sent to
school,; so it seemed to be the best thing,
though your mother took on pretty badly
about it at first. Jededah has been good to
you, I'm sure, and brought you up religious
though you've cost him sight, spending
three hundred and fifty dollars a year at Am
herst College.
But, as was going to say, when started
to talk about Ito tell the truth, Johnny
I'm always a long while coming to it, be
licye.. I'm getting to be an old man, "a lit
tie of a coward, maybe, and sometimes
when sit alone here nights, and think i
over, it's just like the toothache, John
ny. AS was saying, if she had cut tina
wick straight, do believe 1t wouldn't hay,
happened, though it isn't that mean t.
lay the blame on her nOiU.
I'd been out at work all day about til
place, Sticking things up for tomorrow
there was gap in the barn-yard fence t.
mend,- II left that to the last thing, I re
member,-I remember everything, som
| way or other, that happened that day,-an'
there was new roof to put on the pig-pen
and the grapevine needed an extra layer o
straw, and the latch was loose on the sout
barn door; then had to so round and tax
last look at the sheep, and toss down a
extra forkful for the cows, and go into tli
stall to have a talk with Ben, and unbutto
the coop door to see if the hens locke
warm,-just to tuek'em up, as you migl
say. always felt sort of homesick-thong
wouldn't have owned up to it, not even
Nancy-saying good by to the creeturs til
night before l went in. There, now!
beats all, to think you don't know what Ii
: talking about, and you lumberman's sol
"Going in is going up into the woods, yo
, know, cut and haul for the winter, ,-ul
sometimes, hundred miles dcep,-in I'll
: fall and out in the spring; whole gangs
us shut there sometimes for six months, the
down with the freshcis on the logs, and d
: summer to work the farm, merry sort I
life when you get used to it, Johnny, but
was a great while ago, and it seems to me
if it must have been very cold.-Isnt the
|. a little draft coming in at the pantry dooi
So when I'd said good by to the crceturs-
: | remember just as plain how Ben put h
great neck on my shoulder and whinnied Ill
n a baby, horse knew when the seaso
# came round and was going in, just as We
as did, tinkered up the barn yard fenc
IS and locked the doors, and went in to suppe
gave my finger knock with the hal
u u mer, which may have had something to
with it, for man doesn't feel very goo
1t natured when he's been green enough to
's thing like that, and he doesn't like to s
,c it aches either. But if there is anything
ID can't bear it is lamp-smoke; it always q
- put me out, and l expect it always wi
s. Nancy knew what fuss made about
and she was always very careful not to HI
I, tor me with it. ought to have remember
that, but didn't She had lighted the co
w pany lamp on purpose, too, because il "
IN my last night. I liked it better than
r. tallow candle.
Tx So l came in, stamping off the snow, a
they were all in there about the fire, II
~ ~ twins, and Mary Ann, n,and the rest, baby v
te sick, and Nancy was walking back and TO
with him, with little Nancy pulling at
OF gown. You were the baby then, belle
y Johnny; but there always was baby, 6
don't rightly remember. The room was
IA black with smoke, that they all looked a
he they were swimming round and round in
| guess coming in from the cold, and
hIn he pain in my finger and all, it made me a
Ia sick. AT any rate, threw open the "
dow and blew out the light, as mad al
ok hornet.
on NANCY" said /, 'thisfoom would strar
dog, and you might have known it, if yo
.e ID. had two eyes to see what you were abe
ing There, nowl I've tipped the lamp over,'
.ou you just get cloth and wipe up the oil.
The "Dear mel" said she, lighting cam
Ut and she spoke up very soft, too, "Ple'
au- Aaron, don't let the cold in on baby.
lis. sorry it was smoking, but | never kne
M thing about it; he's been fretting and tai
the on so the last hour, didn't notice anyw'
gc, "Thats just what you ought to
lass lass DONE" says /, madder than ever. :"
know how hate the stuff, and you ougl
) IN have cared more about me than to cholS'
,ek. up with it this way the last night before
the ing in"
Nancy was a patient, gentle-spoken
ins, | ~ ,yop,an oud xyo,,ld I,aur N rnod 1aol