The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-10-09
A BAG OF GOLD.

Money is great trial." said th,
Widow Peckington, impressively. sc
declare did not know what care mean
before brother Gabriel died and left mt
all the money"
"Well, Cousin CLAIR, sa," observed
George Merrilton, who was assiduously
engaged in entangling the widows wori
to the very best or the very worst of hi
ability, Gin case you find yourself un
equal to the strain, all you have to de-
is to leave me the five thousand dol
lars"
"The first thing in the morning,
went on Mrs. Peckington, unheedine
Mr.. MerriIton's modest hint, "and the
last at night, Tn thinking about it
First 1 put it in Deacon Elijah Horizons
bank, and then I draw it out again
banks aren't noways safe nowadays
And then / buried it in the east cellar,
close to the apple bin, and there came
the deluging rain, and 1 knowed the
cellar would be three inches deep in
water. So up it came again, and then
could not rest IT, my bed Tor fear of fire.
So got it changed into gold, and ]
guess it is safe enough"
"In the bottom of your big red
chest?" mischievously hazarded George.
No matter where, SIR" said the
widow, nOdding her head.
go, but Cousin Clarissa, you might
tell us, persisted Merrilton. eve are
all your own folks, Cora and l."
Cora Dallas sat stitching quietly in
the corner-the pretty orphan whom
good Mrs. Peckington had taken out of
the orphan asylum "to bring up" five
years before.
al don't expect to leave you moth
ing" Mrs. Peckington had said, "for
I've relations of my own; but I'll give
you good deestrick school education,
and a dect Mt bringing up, and a good
chance to do for yourself"
And Cora accepted the good DANES
offer with meek gratitude.
She had grown very pretty in the last
few years, this solitary child of nobody.
Dark-eyed, with her hair full of deep
chestnut golden shadows, peach bios
som skin, where the rosy blood glowed
brightly through on the slightest prov
ocation, and a mouth like Hebe, it
seemed as if nature had made solemn
compact with herself to atone for all
social Sights that might be cast across
Cora Dallas path.
"Well," said Mrs. Peckingten, seri-
ously, CT don't mind telling you, but
mind you don't repeat 1.-THE bags
hung half way up the chimney on an
iron hook"
"But suppose the chimney should
take fire ?" said Merrilton.
''It won't. I keep it well swept, and,
besides, if it should, it takes pretty
good heat to melt gold"
Upon my word, Cousin Clarissa. !"
said Merrilton, "you are second Ma
chiavelli."
"Who in pity sakes was hep" asked
Mrs. Peckington. "There's neighbor
Simkins at the door jump and let him
in, Cora, for it's beginning to snow like
all possessed"
And neighbor Simkins came ina
broad-faced, jovial agriculturist who
lived on the next farm, and was sus-
pected of matrimonial designs on the
heart of Widow Peckington.
est by, Mr.. Simkins," said the
widow, Hospitality, putting another
-fringed log on the fire L" seems
like we're going to have another spell of
And while the widow and her middle
aged lover discussed the weather, George
took occasion to help Cora get down
half bushel of red apples from the
garnet, and was unnecessarily long about
it, too.
81 should think you would be
ashamed of yourself, George Merrilton,"
said Cora, dimpling and blushing, and
trying to look very angry, in which she
but indifferentIy.
"What for ?" audaciously demanded
George. Gone doesn't get behind the
garnet door with pretty girl every day
in the year"
''What would Mrs. Peckington say ?"
{" dare say she's doing the very same
thing herself down stairs with Jehorum
Simkins."
And Cora burst out laughing at the
ides, Just as the widow
came for ounce jelly and apple butter,
and to tell Cora to mix up batch of
mullins in the twinkling of an eye, for
neighbor Simkins was going to stay to
tea.
After supper Mr.. Simzins took his
leave, with roguish twinkle of his eye
toward the young people, and Mrs.
Peckington went over to spend the even
ing with Mrs. Dorcas Dottleford, her
pet crony, and Cora sat all alone in the
fire-light, sewing and signing and think
ing. For George Merrilton had gone
home early to secure Mr.. Simkins' COM
a part of the way through
the lonely roads, which were already
becoming yelled in snow.
The tall old-fashioned clock in the
angle of the old-fashioned kitchen Chin
- I'll ,r~1,A
Cora Dallas was reused from her sleep
by sheeted form at the foot of her bed
tall and narrow, clad in white-but
no ghost, nevertheless, but Mrs. Peck
ington's self.
What's the matter ?" cried Cora,
my money !" gasped the widow,
waving her hands tragically in the air.
"But what of it?"
cts clean gone, stolen, took away p
care you sure ?" eagerly demanded
Cora.
CAS- sure as am that you're staring
It me now. I felt up chimney for it the
asst thing afore got ready to go to bed,
lnd-it was gone"
In vain proved all search. Neither
lp chimney, nor down cellar, nor in any
or unimaginable corner was
he bag of gold pieces to be found.
"NIrs. Peckington, said Cora, husk-
", " it must have been stolen"
Yes" said Mrs. Peckington, whose
Ups were now compressed, and there
vas something in her manner that Cora
never before noticed, as she called the
farm-boy, and told him to
'up over and ask Farmer Simkins to
tep to the Peckington place that morn
ng.
" And you may as we'll stop for George |
MerriltOn as you come back" said she. |
When he was gone, she came close up |
10 Cora Dallas.
cora" said she, "we two are alone |
'ogether now, and am the last one to |
De hard on you confess now, and we'll |
Zee how the matter can be cleared up"
Cora opened wide her brown eyes.
"Confess what ?" she asked, inno- |
gently.
"That you took the money there |
vas no one else that could have done |
{. You were here all alone yesterday |
evening. and I know it was a strong |
to gal that never had five |
dollars of her own in the world. Cora, |
-ou're young, child, and I don't believe
-ou're altogether bad, but Satan Sits |
Is all as wheat, and"
"Stopp cried Cora, growing white |
nd breatblaSs Won suGDart ue-yOu |