American citizen. [volume] (Canton, Miss.) 1864-1890, 1874-03-07
TAKING 1T FOR GRANTED.

TAKING 1T FOR GRANTED.
WITH marks of a rough, stormy life all
over him, rolgh man of about fifty
years, gray and sunburnt, sat in my office
found him there when l went in one
morning not long ago.
"Here is somebody waiting for you
Elwell," said Mr.. Bigelow.
looked around, and the man rose and
held out his hand.
'Averill-my name is Averill," said
he, looking sharply at me out of pair OF
shrewd, gray eyes. ' am an old friend
of your mother; but have not met her
for a matter of five-and-twenty years. So
/ thought I'd call and ask after her and
her family"
81 am glad to see you," said 1. care
you a relative of my mothers"
No." replied Mr.. Averill. ave were
of the same name but not cOnnected-un-
less it may be very distantly. I used to
know her and her folks, though, as well
- did my own sisters, and better, too.
Let's see-where is your Aunt Augusta
now :"
"She is living with her children in
Portland" said l.
Pretty well, is she, do you know? ~
asked Mr.. Averill.
every well when we heard last. Aunt
Augusta has good children and a pleasant
home, and seems quite happy"
"Um-m-m-m! That is NICE" said Mr.
Averill, fumbling at rough nugget OF
gold that hung as a charm from his
Watch-chain.
ha dn't much to do that day, SO I
talked off and on with my visitor till it
was time to go home, and then took him
along with me. left him in the sitting
room and went to find mother. She was
mixing biscuits for supper, looking
through her glasses, and singing a snatch
of some old, halfforgotten love-ditty of
her youth.
"Mother." said I, breaking in upon
her song. "Come in the other room.
An old friend of yours wants to see you"
, Mother looked up over her glasses.
An old friend? 'Tisn't any of the
Maine folks, is it?" she asked.
Because, if it was so much as a dog
that had trotted across a corner of the
State of Maine, on his four legs, mother
would have run, with her arms out and
smile of welcome, without stopping to
even wash the dough off her hands As
it was, with only an indefinite thought of
seeing IAN old FRIEND" she went, with
dust Of flour on her nose, and without
her company cap.
As soon as she had stepped inside the
sitting-room door she stood and looked
at her guest, and he stood and looked at
her.
at is Sam, as true as you are born ~
she said, at last.
Then they both laughed, and then they
both wiped their eyes, though they didn't
seem like that sort of people, especially
Mr.. Averill.
/ never knew mother to forget her
housekeeping before, but this time she
let the biscuit burn till they were black
as my shoe; and when she mixed some
more she put in sugar instead of salt, and
left out the saleratus altogether. But her
checks grew pink, and her cap strings
flew, and neither she nor her guest
seemed to know the difference.
"Oh, hOneyI" cried my mother, hop
ping up from the tea-table as soon as she
was seated "You haven't lost your
sweet tooth, have you, Samr"
How you do rememberr' returned
Sam, admiringly.
al should think ought tor answered
my mother with a girlish laugh. The
way you used to pick up walnuts to carry
to the crossroads store and trade for mo-
lasses and make candy of, Speaking of
the crossroads store, l wonder if you
know our old storekeeper's daughter,
she that was Sarah Curly, has lost her
husbands"
mo, has she. Strange never heard
Of it." replied Mr.. Averill, appearing as
astonished as though he had been hear
ing from his old neighbors every week.
Yes" said my mother. "She married
one of old 81 Seaver's boys, the oldest one,
Jonathan, and he died sudden-all at
once; we'll, it must be something like half.
a-doZen years ago-and left his wife and
so many children-five children or else
six, / don't know which,"
You don't say" calculated Mr.. Ave
rill, passing his honey plate for the third
time. No, evidently he had not lost his
sweet TOOTH
,, After supper ,., mother washed up the
smoked his pipe and listened. 1t was the
first time ever allowed anybody to smoke
in my house, but had nothing to say
now. l even filled his pipe and lighted
it for him. And then he told the story of
his life, which had been full of strange
and interesting adventures. He was evil
IDENTIFY man who did not read much and
who could not have written well, but he
could talk; not always dramatically,
perhaps, but always with force and fasci
nation.
1t seemed that years and years ago his
father and my mothers father lived In a
town in the valley of the Kennebec NV
mothers father was large farmer, and
Mr.. Averiil's father was a very small
farmer with a very large family SO his
youngest son, Sam, came to work for my
grandfather. My mother and my Aunt
Ang1ta were young girls-they were
twins, and 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; and where
one was you might usually find the other
near at hand. Sam never said ANYTHING.
he was not of demonstrative kind, but
he knew how he felt, and he supposed
Aug usta knew too
So the years budded 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
Maine on business, always going to NV
grandfather's before he went home, and
carrying himself toward Augusta like an
accepted lover.
After few years he found himself DOS
sessed of twelve thousand dollars, and
Immediately went to work to spend it.
He went abroad, TO England and Rome
and Egypt and Paris and Germany and
Sweden and Russia and everywhere
When he came home at last it was with
only fifty dollars in his pocket. so next
he went out among the copper mines of
Lake Superior, and in time was again
Possessed of twelve thousand dollars.
Now l will come home and marry