The Tiffin tribune. (Tiffin, Ohio) 1868-1887, 1874-12-31

dullness ? Why Go the greatest sdo-
jects lead to such poor writing
81 wish there were some novels, !"
said Emily, one day, from the top Of
the stepladder.
'tNovels amt good for young peo-
ple," said Thomas Yarn.
siBut like them-I like books that
Is very beautiful in the beginning, snd
very sad in the middle, and very mag
nificent st the end ~ said Emily, who
did not want for words.
"Well, 1 guess you'd better not read
so many Of 'em. That's not at all
like life" said poor Thomas, remem-
bering the tavern-windOw F; "0esides
your Aunt Margaret says you walk IN
your sleep, aud have bad dreams, and
I guess you'd better go OF and get
some more wild flowers"
So Emily would dance of TO the
woods, and Thomas looked up some
more novels for her, aud, finding
good, old-fashioned story, wouldleave
It accidentally on the top Of the step
ladder, sufficiently rewarded if he saw
her fiush of pleasure as she discovered
il. There were no poisonous plants
in this Forest of Ardennes,-2l was
the good, wholesome pasturage OF
which Charles Lamb speaks; and the
young maiden who was thus set free
was as protected as the lady in Com
u.s." or that other delicious creature OF
whom great English Shakespeare says:
Albau iand liveried angels Iackey her.
Thomas Yarn, in spite Of his inabil-
ity to make living, was so good a
creature that his virtue shOne through
his bedraggled exterior, as the sun
himself shOne through that tavern
window through which he saw the
distant world.
Miss Margaret, rectangular spinster
that she was, permitted him the guar
dianship of her niece without fear
nay, she even admitted him to that
icy, rigid zone of virtue which sur
rounded herself. He sat on the edge
OF his chair in her presence when he
told her the scraps of news she so dear
ly loved 20 hear.
Oh on one of these occasions, what
a piece of news she had told him
"YOu may shut up the library, Mr..
Yarn, am going to take Emily oil to
school. The Trustees will allow you
your accustomed stipend"
Miss Margaret loved to use a new
and grandiioquent phrase as well as
another, "and your work can be re.
sumed in the spring now l prefer to
have the library smut. Good even
ing ~
And she swept out without look !;
besides, who had ever fiattered him or
softened the asDerities of Fate to this
creature =?
Poor Thomas From him that hath
nothing, shall be taken even that he
hath
He took out the piece OF folded Chi
na-paper, and looked long st the tress
of black hair. He wondered, know
ing how low down he was, that he
could be so exquisitely miserabiy.
There is great talent in human ma
tuTe for pain, and suffering, and dull
grief. That side of our nature seems
to be singularly gifted. We have no
such unlimited powers in the way of
Joy and gladness. After the sixteenth
year of existence is passed, it seems
doubtful il any one can feel rspturous-
ly happy for a very long time say
three minutes. But the power of SUI
fering constantly grows with our
growth, and strengthens with our
strength. No one ever complained
that he had not talent enough for this
sort of thing. Even Thomas Yarn,
who had seemed to have talent for
nothing else, felt within himself the
comprehension of an intellectual col
ossus for suffering.
1t is a poor thing to take out OF
20 frsnnAokfr. hA
tioning love of a child. He saw EN-
lily furtively during those years when
she danced over that mysterious land
the border land of girlhood and wo-
manhoOd,-but when she came home
from bOaTding-school, and looked at
Thomas Yarn with new eyes-he who
had not grown cleaner, or younger, or
more agreeable,-he felt that he had
lost his little friend. She reinstalled
him in the library; but she came there
seldom herself she had a new book
to read,-her own romance was being
written lovers were coming in the
flesh, instead of on the yellow pages
of her old bOoks,-so Thomas and
Memory busted alone.
One day Thomas took down vol
ume of Scott's commentaries" in
which he saw a moth creeping, and,
as he did so, a wildfiOWer fell OUT
one of those which had not been ele-
waited to the dignity of Emily's her
barium. 1t was very old book, with
parchment cover; and, as he busted
and shook it, Thomas Yarn shook out
his fate,-a folded paper fell to the
ground with bits of fern, a pressed vi
Olet, lady's slipper, and sever al firing
ed polygalas.
1t was a will. He knew the hand
writing well, for in his struggles for
existence he had been a copyist, and
had often met the stiff, stately, old
fashioned, copper-plate hand of Gov
ernor Hammond. He read on through
the formal phrases and legal forms
he read on as a man does.in a dream,
and he never knew how long it took
him to find out what was written on
that piece of paper. He might have
tainted away If so, he came to all by
himself. It was a will, leaving all his
property to his natural son, Thomas
Yarn. 1t was witnessed by Deborah
DOolittle (misnamed woman y then
and now cook to the establishment,
and by old Deacon Ramsey, who had
been gathered to his fathers.
Thomas Yarn remembered the date
of the will which had given all the
property to Emily, yes, this was writ.
ten a year after. 1t was not recorded;
that he well knew, but he thought De-
b0rah would remember signing it. He
went through all these mental opera
tiOns with half his mind, the other
half was paralyZed with surprise.
He was looking at it with bleared
eyes when ne heard a fresh young
voice singing in the hall. He had
just time to put the paper in perhaps
the poorest old pocket in the world,
when Emily opened the door.
Thomas Yarn was surrounded with
faded wild flowers. He even had a
piece of fern in his hand, enIeavoring
to hold it as if it were thing to which
be was accustomed.
How Emily laughed when she saw
him.
$50 you have found some of our old
flowers ? How yellow they are. poor
things. Look at that violet. They
are like people who have had sickness
and trouble. I wonder if shall ever
look like one of these 2"
ayes, they are yellow" said Thom-
as, feebIy, "do you remember when
you put them here ?n
II remember Why, no; it might
have been the summer after | had the
measles, or the summer before went
to school 1 don't remember ]"
Thomas Yarn took his way home
that day through the kitchen. 1t was
not The first time, for Deborah was
very apt to waylay him with the prof
fr of cup Of tea, or some of her nice
lishes, always doing it with respect,
for she thought, with therest of Moss
brook, that Thomas was a poor gen.
tleman and he, not a person 20 be
invited to dinner, would pause fur
lively, and at Deborah's neat table
snatch cup of tea or rich dcughnut,
grateful variety to tavern fare.
So, when he appeared down the
stairs, Deborah hustled round, and put
plate and knife and fork on the side
table.
"No," said Thomas Yarn, "noth-
ing to eat"
"Why whatsomerer happened to
you, Mr.. Yarn ?n said Deborah 'iYou
look as white as sheet ~
Deborah, do you remember wit
Messing paper for Gov. Hammond
in his lost sffv,.- =