The Jasper weekly courier. [volume] (Jasper, Ind.) 1858-1922, 1873-09-12
OLD As THE HILLS.
BY KATE W. HAMILTON.


Only the story in general: Mrs. Martha
was not so ancient. neither was she very
Young. though she did remind one of a
fresh new harber-pole a she leaned from
the window. her head bound up in green
veil to protect il from the imaginary dust
of an utterly superfluous sweeping. and
her straight form arrayed In the brightest
OF striped prints. The hair under the
green veil was too faded for youth. and
over her face was "A network of lines. the
footprints of countless worries. that
spelled out her name of Martha as plainly
a letters could have done. The whole
world of human affairs was "a great ma
chine To her. She fanciel that her foot
upon the treadle was all that kept il run
ming. and single false movement or slip
OF her toes would send everything back TO
chaos. Such a responsibility of poking
up. oiling. screwing. and experimenting
was enough 10 tattoo any face with care
marks.
The small Kitchen Of the cottage did not
look altogether like the center Of the uni
verse. but that mattered nothing so long a
il was that to her: and the particular per-
verse little cog that seemed to be out of
order this morning was Master Paul. That
Young naturalist had half hour before
been trying to perch on the chicken roost
a his favorite bantam did. and had en-
dangered his bones and damaged his brown
linen suit by "A fall; but now he was en-
gagged i'm some mysterious agricultural en-
terprise that quite bafiled Mrs. Martha
di~cernment. There had been a deal OF
digging with her clreiully-polished fire
shovel. which she hal not discovered in
time 10 prevent: She had only witnessed
the completion of the planting-a great
stamping down of earth with Paul'S small
feet around highly-colored. variegated.
and altogether singular-looking cluster of
foliage. But the final ceremony of his
appearing with a watering-pot. and plenti-
fully sprinkling both his plant and himself,
so far aroused her anxious curiosity "a to
draw her 10 the scene Of action.
Ii needed no very near approach to as
tonish and horrify her. Her best feathe.
buster. kept sacredly for parlor use. was
buried handle downwards. only "A few
inches of the soft. brilliant tips remaining
above ground. and they forlorn and drag
upon them.
Paul Rivers. what on earth have you
been about now!"
Paul leaned back. with two small muddy
hands thrust into his pockets. and surveyed
his work with beaming satisfaction.
IL Impose I'll raithe thome birClth OF
paradithc." he explained.
Bir,ls of destruction. and you're OF
them yourself, wish your father would
stop showing you pictures and telling you
stories of every flying beast and creeping
fowl. that's what | do" muttered Mrs,
Martha wrathfully. Here's my best
buster just ruined"
Don't you mind. Couthin Martha.
thpcct | can pick enough featherth from
my birith 10 make you a thousand dus-
Tiers" urged Paul consolingly.
But Mrs. Martha would none of such
comfort. She rooted up her brush with
indignant alacrity. and walked toward the
house with IL. shaking out the sand and
Strengthening the dropping feathers by the
way. Paul followedher rcmarking rather
despondently:
II don't thee how nobody can raithe
anything If they can't have nothing fol-
thccd."
"What j. the trouble now. Paul?'' ques.
toned n voice in the vine-shaded piazza
and face looked forth from under tn,
swaying tendrils--a manly face. bearded
and mustached, but with high brow and
deep. dark eyes so like the child's that tn,
relation was apparent.
"Trouble! It's nothing but trouble al
day long with him. responded Mrs
Martha. promptly entering upon a recita
Of this last affection. But her listener