The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1870-08-12
Misfellaueuas.
MY PRIVATE SCHOOL.

| Look NJ that! cried my grandmother
striking an attitude worthy Of Lady Mac
beth when she addressed the fatal spot or
her head; this time, however. II was only
the scissors, which in falling stood up
right in the floor.
Il see. It's nothing uncommon, Is itT
Did you ever know Il 10 happen that 8
stranger didn't come before the day wa:
out p
Il never noticed; somebody was always
coming for the matter of that
Il tell you that sign don't never fail.
(my grandmother always used double
negatives when she meant to be emphat
ic y most others will, but that's true rs a
book. And another thing. there was d
stranger in my tea tonight, long one
that shows It's man that's comm. Some
folks set great deal by that sign; but II
aint to be mentioned In the same day
with the scissors standing up in the floor.
i hope he will come soon, for the
storm will be- here before him;' and with
the words the wind went wailing round
the house, and the first big drops beat
against the window-pane.
Three-score years and ten had not taken
the first bloom from the romance of my
grandmother's character; it was fresh and
green rs in her girlhood. Beggars heard
of her afar of, and ran TO fall ON the neck
of her charity.
She followed the advice of Lamb. with
out ever having read it. When a poor
creature came before her she stiid not To
inquire whether the seven small children
in whose name he implored her assistanc,
had a veritable existence, but cast her
bread upon the waters and lived In faith.
In fact. she had cast so much bread
upon the waters in the course of her long
lie. and SO small n proportion had come
back TO her. that she had nothing left for
herself except the old farm and the gam
brel-roofed house.
Within its walls my father had first
seen the light. and lived till he went out
to fight the world. He fell early in the
strife. and my mother soon followed him
but not until she had marked out my way
in life. and so fixed me in the groove OF
her ideas that / had no choice left. Invent
to village academy till was old enough
TO enter the Normal School, for my des-
tiny was to~be teacher. My little in
come had TO be eked out in some way
and Of all work TO which woman may
turn her hand, a school, perhaps, divides
the burden most equally between body
and mind.
When I graduated my grandmother
left tho old gambrel-roof to SEQ me do ii,
and carried me home with her for a breath
in spell (as she saiD before getting u
place to teach.
As to my future, l was neither happy
nor unhappy; life runs on with very little
frictions; there is excitement enough in
mere youth to make living pleasure.
The evening drew on with ever-increas-
ing gusts of wind. and the old house
shook 10 its foundations, but IL cluhg gal
lantly to the great central chimney. which,
being nearly rs broad rs it was high.
could afford to be indifferent. when wind
and weather came to blows and made a
night of il.
Il hope YOU don't mean TO sit up for
that somebody who is coming. All signs
fail In wet weather.
The words were scarcely spoken when
we heard the tread of horse running nj
speed down the steep hill above the
house, then crash of the fence and all
WAS still.
We held our breath and listened. Soon
q mans step sounded low and heavy on
the walk. and my grandmother rushed to
open the door.
Don't be scarf said the familiar voice
of one of our neigbors, and he stumbled
in, carrying man, pale and lifeless, in
his arms ...
Lay him right on the loungo-get the
camphor bottle-here's somebody, sure
enough-Don't tell me again that sign
ever fails. Who is ii, Job p
Il dunno his name; city fellow reck.
on; said he'd pay me most any price Ia
get him TO Meriden tonight. The mare
did well enough till we got to that ere
hill, then flash scared her. and she never
stopped till she bro't up agin your fence
If he hadn't been fool and jumped oui
he might n been rs spry rs l am; but
some folks don't know nothin,.' ...
That's so. that the rest can get q livin'
out of'em,' said my grandmother. Mean
time she was vigorously chatting his hands
and feet, while | dashed the camphor In
his face. and bathed the broad white for
head. which certainly promised well foi
the brain behind it.
lie must be dead said I; he dom
come to at ALL .,a... .r
NO he amt. Folks can't be killed sc
easy. He'll give you trouble enough be
fore you're done with him Now I'll gc
after the doctor; faint noways likely he'll
know any more what's the matter thar
we do; but he"l pretend to, and II the
man dies it's his fault, and not ourn.' y
The doctor found no bones broken. buI
the head was injured, and he must be pu
to bed aud kept rs quiet rs possible.I Now
was my grandmotherlin her element u !
You couldn't work any harder said l.
If he were your own SON. 1ci cst' '7nl'
lie IL somebody's own son, we mustn't
never forget that. YOU know 9t1 10 .'@
Our patient fell from his first fainting q,
into fever; and from morning till nigh,
till morning again. he tossed and turned
with one continuous cry to drive faster
for he must be in Meriden tfntlnight My
grandmother was nurse-in-chief, but sh,
oflsn made rneCher deputy when the elabaal
began 70 wear upon her.
The doctor had found some cards in IN,
notebook OF our patient. with the name
John Jacob Deans, engraved -on them
but we had no ether cfyw 20 fis identity
II is impossible to watch over patient
dsy and night. striving 10 be both brair
and hands 10 him without growing int6 q
very strong feeling toward him Of attach
ment or dislike. II was so with me
though carcsly dared whisper to myself
to which order Of feeling my own 'shoult
belong. p'tboaghs or him alli the time
and II he had died 70 wonld have been q
blow to me. albeit had never heard hin
speak conscious word
ii was the tenth day Of tho, FEVER and
he had been motionless for . long time; 9
sudden movement made me look up. Hi'
cyss wore fastened on me with q new OK,
preston. / knew that he saw mo for the
/ first time. s'ssul-7 h1E-nt1l 80 11i a gT.isa
'olsDon't leave me- he said. fsiutly. as
,.<.. .lnut In call INV tvt-l n.lp,,fhar ~>.x,-