New national era. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1870-1874, 1872-04-04
THE ROMANCE OF A WHEEL.

THE ROMANCE OF A WHEEL.
All that the wheel did was what others are
doing every day-itasserted its Independence.
Night had come on, a thick mist had rendered
driving on an unknown road anything but de-
lightful, especially as said road was in very
bad condition. The. wheel was evidently tired,
and thought II quite time that it should be
allowed to rest. BY way of reminder it be-
gan to wabble at first very slightly then very
considerably, but without attracting the no
tice of the occupant of the carriage.
Finding gentle measures of no avail, it flew
off in tangent and dumped the driver off the
vehicle upon the ground with such force as to
effectually break up his reverie and bring him
with bound back to mundane things.
The wheel lay meekly on its back at little
distance, looking very fiat, indeed. 1t seemed
to say, with an injured air, ''Tyrant, behold
thy oppressed slave, whom thou hast COM
PEELED to grinding toll! Look upon thy work
and let thine hardened conscience tremble J"
But this pretty show of innocence was en-
tirely lost upon John Etheridge, for the reason
that it was too dark for him to see it. Upon
the desert of fog suddenly appeared tiny
light, it bobbed up and down, gradually COM
ing nearer to John.
hallOa, nt snouteu, COihc ntrc, VIII
you?"
The light fastened forward, and in mo-
ment the bearer said, ''HallOa! what's up?''
+" Nothing's up, but good deal is down.
One of the wheels of my carriage has taken a
notion to go travelling on its own account,
and / need some help about fixing it."
''Where We bound ?" was the abrupt query.
"TO Stafford" was the equally laconic
reply.
"Ever been there before? Know the
road?'
"No," said John, rather amused.
"Well, it's no joke for the next three OF
four miles on such a night as this. "It'n
take some time to fix that wheel as you can
the house over night. Wen make you COM
Portable, guess"
''Thank you, am strongly tempted to ac-
cept your offer, for am tired and chilly. ]
have been riding all the afternoon. But
must introduce myself NV name is John
Etheridge, and live in Hartford"
"And Pm John, too; John Ford, farmer,
and l live just little way back, in what used
to be the Half Way House afore the railroad
was built"
They reached the house in few minutes,
and after Embarrassing the horse and giving
him his supper, John Ford led the way into
Tic House. NlIs. oTu gave Tic uneAPcCIcu
guest a hearty welcome, and, what was no
less important, capital supper. After thus
refreshing himself, John entered into CONVEX
sation with his entertainers and their chill
dren, of whom they were several, two pretty
daughters among them.
After retiring to his room, feeling very little
inclined for sleep, he spent some time in look
ing over the papers pertaining to a lawsuit.
John was a lawyer, and was on his way TO
attend the court, which was to hold its ses-
sion in Stafford, the county town.
In the corner of the room opposite him was
a cupboard with glass doors. Upon the top
shelf old books and papers were piled, yellow
with age, and torn and dusty. With indo-
chair began to look them over.
As he was about 70 sit down he saw a
folded yellow paper that had, to his lawyer
eyes, familiar look. Opening it he found
that it was deed conveying to Peter Morton,
his heirs and assigns forever, certain lot oil
land in the town Of Stafford, bounded in such
and such manner for a sum; signed Shubeal
BarstOw, and dated August 81, 1910. John
read it with deal of interest; he had heard
of Shubeal Barstow, the richest and meanest
man in Stafford.
HE always signs himself Shubeal Bar
stow, Jr., though this was his father proba-
bly,. As nearly as can Judge, not having
visited Stafford, this lot must be somewhere
in the center OF the town and quite valuable.
/ wonder if Mr.. or Mrs. Ford is one of the
Morton heirs. 1t strikes me as rather care
less to let this deed lie up there among the
rubbish where it is likely to be destroyed. /
Will take the liberty to speak to Mr.. Ford
about 1t in the morning, perhaps he does not
know it is here.''
Accordingly, the next day, John handed it
to his host, saving: " took the liberty to
examine the books in the cupboard last even
ing, and found this tucked away in the cor
ner of the top shelf. 1t seemed to me that
it must have been mislaid, and that you
would perhaps rather have it in your posses
SON.
MIR. Ford opened the paper with a puzzled
expression, which gave way to one of surprise
and delight as he read.
Pm blest if Morton wasn't right. after
all; that blasted old scamp of BarstOw will
have to give il up at last. Do YOU know,
John Etheridge, this is the best job You ever
did in your life; finding the deed? Wen
carry it right over to Stafford as soon as we
can get off,
Am to congratulate you or Mrs. Ford.
l am not acquainted with the facts, but sup
pose one of you must he one of the heirs of
the Morton estate"
DIVES youi hcdA L, ho VIC dih NO Teld-
ton. forgot you didn't know the story.
Wait till we go out to tinker up the kerridge
and will tell you all about it,"
Accordingly, breakfast over, they repaired
to the barn, and Mr.. Ford began as follows
You see, twenty-five years ago, Peter Nor
ton bought this lot of Shubeal Barstow, not
this one, the old man, and moved his house
on to it, and built little store right along
side Of it. Old BarstOw died very suddenly
of apoplexy, and his son and daughter came
in for all his property. JamiIny Barstow is
as mean as her brother, and always thought
she had a finger in the pie. Well, Peter kept
store there three years, and was getting along
nicely, when all of a sudden he had an offer
for the lot. The town wanted it for the
courthouse. They offered a good price, for
the LOT bio xlixll.