Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1868-01-17
From the Atlantic Monthly.
In the Gray Goth.

been cut straight, L don't belleve IL
would ever have happened.
Where is the poker, Johnny ?
Can't you push back that for'ard log
a little? Dear, dear! Well, 1T
doesn't make much difference, does
it? Something always seems to all
your Massachusetts fires; your hick-
DRY is green, and your maple is knar-
", and the worms eat out your oak
like a sponge. haven't seen any
thing like what | call a fre,-not
since Mary Ann was married, and l
came here to stay. As long as you
live, father" she said; ard in that
very letter she told me 1 should al
ways have All open FIRE, and how she
wouldn't let Jacob put ip the air tight
in the sitting-room but had the fire.
place kept on purpose. Mary Ann
was good girl always, if | remem-
Der straight, and I'm sure don't com
plain. Isn't that a pine knot at the
bottom of the basket? There J that's
better.
Let me see; 1 began to tell you
something, didn't I? o yes; about
that winter of Al. | remember now.
| declare, | can't get over it, to think
you never heard about it, and you
twenty-four years old come Christ
mas. 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 mat
ter of that, you were such little
shaver when Uncle Jed took you
There were great many of US, it
seems to me, that year, | most forgot
how many;-we buried the twins
next summer, didn't we ?-then there
was Mary Ann, and little Many, and
well, coffee was dearer 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; besides
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. Jed
ediah has been good to you, Tn sire,
and brought you up religious
though you've cost him sight, spend
ing three hundred and fifty dollars
year at Amherst College.
But, as | was going to say, when |
started to talk about '41-to tell the
truth, Johnny, I'm always a long
while coming to it, l believe. I'm
getting to be on old man;-o little
Of a coward, maybe, and sometimes,
when sit alone here nights, and think
it over, it's just like the toothache,
Johnny. As was saying, if she had
cut that wick straight, | do believe it
wouldn't have happened, though it
isn't that | mean to lay the blame on
her RO1C.
I'd been out at work all day about
the place, Sticking things up for to-
morrow; there was gap in the barn
ward fence to mend,-I left that till
The last thing, remember i remem-
Der everything some way or other,
that happened that day,-and there
was new roof to put on tile pig
pen, and the grapevine needed an ex-
ira layer Of straw, and the latcl9as
loose on the south barn door; then
| had to 90 round and take a Hast
look at the sheep, and toss down an
extra forkful for the cows, and 90 ipto
the stall to have talk with Ben, apd
unbutton the coop door to see if the
hens looked warm,-just to tuck 'erlt
up, as you might say. | always feft
sort of homesick--though | wouldn't
have owned up to it, not even to Nan
Icy-saying good to the creturs the
night before | went in. There, now
it beats all, to think you don't know
what I'm talking about, and you a
lumberman's son. "Going in" is 60
ing up into the woods, you know, to
cut and haul for winter,-up some
times, a hundred miles dcep,-in, in
the fall and out in the spring; whole
gangs of US shut up there sometimes
for six months, then down with the
freshets on the logs, and all summer
to work the farm,-a merry sort Of
life when you get used to it, Johnny
, but it was great while ago, and it
seems to me, as if it must have been
very cold. Isn't there little draft
coming in at the pantry door?
So when I'd said good by to the
creturs,-I remember just as plain
how Ben put his great neck on my
. shoulder and whined like baby
that horse knew when the season
came round and was going in, just
as we'll as did, tinkered up the
barnyard fence, and locked the doors
and went in to supper.
l gave my finger knock with the
hammer, which may have had some
thing to do with it, for a man doesn't
feel very good natured when he's been
green enough to do thing like that
and he doesn't like to say it aches
Q either. But if there is anything
I can't bear, it is lamp-smoke; it al
ways did put me out, and | expect il
always will. Nancy knew what q
fuss | made about it, and she was al
.. ways very careful not to hector me
{ with it. | ought to have remember
n ed that, but | didn't. She had light
ed the company lamp on purpose, too
because it way my last night. | likec
1t better than the tailow candle. si'
~ 80 came in, stamping off the
M SuOw and they were all in thor.