Lamoille newsdealer. [volume] (Hyde Park, Vt.) 1860-1877, 1874-03-11

way you used to pick up walnuts to carry
10 the crossroads store and trade for mo-
lasses and make candy of! Speaking Of
the crossroads store, l wonder if you
know our ole storekeeper's daughter, she
that was Sarah Curly, has lost her hus-
band r.
No, has she? Strange I never heard
of It," replied Mr.. Averill, appearing as
astonished as though he had been hearing
from his old neighbors every week.
Yes" said my mother. "She mar
ried one Of old 81 Seaver's boys, the old
est one, Jonathan, and he died sudden
all at once well, it must be something
like half.a-dozen years ago,-and left his
wife and so many children---6ve children
or else six, | don't know which,
"You don't say" ejaculated Mr.. Aver
i'll, passing his honey plate for the third
time. No, evidently he had not lest his
sweet tooth.
After supper, mother washed up the
dishes and talked, and Mr.. Averill smoked
his pipe and listened. 1t was the first
time ever allowed anybody to smoke in
my house, but l had nothing to say now.
even filled his pipe ard lighted it Tor him.
And then he told the story of his life,
which had been full of strange and inter-
estiDg adventures. He was evidently a
man who did not read much and who could
not have written we'll, but he could talk
not always dramatically, perhaps, but al
ways with force and fascination.
1t seemed tina: years and years ago, his
father and my mothers father lived in a
town in the valley of the Kennebec. My
mothers father was a large farmer and
Mr.. Averill's father was very small farm.
er with very large family. So his young
est son, Sam, came to work for my grand
father. My mother and my aunt Augusta
were young grls-they were twins, and I
suppose by the way they look now that
they must have been pretty then. My
mother was early engaged and married to
my father; but there was Augusta and
/ there was Sam aud where one was you
might usually find the other near at hand.
Sam never said anything, he was rot of a
domonstrative kind, but he knew how he
felt, and he supposed Augusta knew too.
! So the years buddcd and blossomed and
brought forth fruit, until at last Sam went
down to Connecticut to take charge of a
saw-mill for an uncle of his. He wrote to
Aunt Augusta and Aunt Augusta wrote
to him, and now and then he came to
Name on business, always going to my
grandfather's before he went home, and
carrying himself toward Augusta like an
accepted lover.
/ After few years he found himself pos
sessed of twelve thousand dollars and im
mediately went to work to spend it. He
went abroad, to England and Rome and
Egypt and Paris and Germany and Swed
en- and Russia aud1 everywhere. Wher
he came home at last it was with only fif
ty dollars in his pocket. So next he wen'
out among the copper mines of Lake 5u'
perior, and in time was again possessed Of
twelve thousand dollars.
Now l will come home and marry
Augusta, and settle down. said be to him.
self. But he didn't say it to anybody else
1t never occurred to him that was neces.
sary.
Meantime my Aunt Augusta had moi
stood like rose in pot, waiting for the
gardner to come and pick it. She cast
out her roots and threw up her branches
aud bloomed as though it was enough to
fulfill the laws Of being and beauty for
their own sakes.
In that simple neighborhood work was
supposed to be the chief end Of everybody
So Aunt Augusta learned vest-making, and
then she went to Coos, where her brother
Nathan lived, and set up for herself
I Coos was little crumb of town in
those days but 1t held up its head and
had its stores and its mills, and its shops,
its great white meeting-house on hill
with galleries on three sides and square
pews and high box pulpit.
The first Sunday after Aunt Augusta
went there. she climbed the hill, of course
and went in the front pew with Uncle Ma
than aud his wife. She was fashionably
dressed in black Grape gown, scarlet
shawl and white silk bonnet with pink
roses inside. Her cheeks were as pink as
her roses, and her eyes were as black at
her gown.
There was no need that Mr.. Keelel
should point her out to the young men
but he took the pains to doit. Mr.. Keel
er, the minister, was little lank man, as
plain and gray as a dog-bug, and SO afrait
Of the pomps and vauities that he wonldn'
wear buttons on his coat No sooner hat