The Toledo chronicle. [volume] (Toledo, Tama County, Iowa) 1873-1924, 1875-04-01
OLD TICKlEBY'S CABIN.

OLD 1ICklkBY>S CAbIN.
UGH! How the wind did buster and
blow and cavort around the old cabin
Old Tickleby's Cabin, as it was known
by all the neighbors and everybody else
who by chance had heard of it. 1t Was
called Old Tickleby's Cabin because il
was inhabited by old Peter Tickleby. II
didn't belong to anybody, for it stood on
the village common-grounda and had once
been school house-a long time ago
long before Old Tickleby had moved to
that section, or, indeed, before Old
Tickleby was born.
There was only one man in the village
who could remember when the old log
cabin was built, and he was so nervous
and old and deaf that you couldn't get
anv satisfaction out of him about it.
The old cabin stood just at the edge OF
narrow strip of woods, which, from
their shape, seemed to invite the north
wind rather than protect the shaky
structure This strip of wool was the
southern boundary of long and wide
green that sloped abruptly off at this
edge TO the bank of deep creek, and
consequently the old cabin sat in gorge
And lovely gorge it was, with the
great, messy oak trees growing on the
very edge of the steep banks, and Their
white and smoothly-washed roots sprawl
ing out Of the side of the bank and over
into the water, like the skeleton fingers
of some huge giant that lay buried on
the slope.
The wind came rushing like a mad
spirit down the gorge. The gusts were
sudden and short, but pounded at the
door of Old Tickleby's cabin, and jerked
and pried at the crannies between the
logs, and rushed down the'old mud chin
ney, carrying with it roll of smoke,
and then out again, like a boisterous
playful young monster.
Peter Tickleby sat on low, split-bot
tom chair before very ghost of a fire
that lowered undoubtedly over two
rugged knots of poplar wood in the great
open fireplace. He held, or rather he
clutched, piece of paper in his hand
and he held to it with an air of deter
mination, and one that plainly accused
the wind of thievish intentions. When
ever the sullen knots would leap into
momentary blaze he would peer witt
such an agonized, anxious look at thu
paper, as if he were trying to look into
its very soul.
Old Peter had gotten letter from the
postotlice that afternoon. The Postmas
ter said there was no doubt of its beine
intended for him, because it was long
red package, sealed with dark coloreC
wax, and on it was written Pete
Tickleby, Esq, Bellefeld, - Co.
Ken"
Old Tickleby then took it, because hi
had no excuse for refusing 1t further
He thrust it nervously into his grea
cavern of pocket and walked leisurel
through the deepening sunset and tn
cutting east wind to his domicile, deter
mined to encourage no idle and senseles
curiosity.
But a man being reminded eternally o
anything will at last regard it with som,
consideration. So old Peter, the NOR,
he tried to forget the long red letter tn,
more he.saw the peculiar, saw-like writ
ing on the direction; every time he thrus
his little, old, shriveled-up hands into Iii
great fat pockets they encountered thu
Objectionable package, and were forth
with withdrawn, as if from fire. So h
soon became curious, and then raving
staring anxious.
The old pedagogue.-for Old Peter wa
the village schoolmaster, although hav
not mentioned it before. In fact tn
pedagogic pursuits of the old man wer
the least important of his occupations
he was SO old in years and SO oldfash
Toned in ideas that the precocious chi
dren of the generation of which | writ
were fain to hold him in derision, AM
under this the old mans spirits had fail
ly broken. For more than twelve
month his occupation, like that of
more famous parsonage, had now bee
gone, and now in the dead of a sever
winter he was in lack Of some of tn
necessaries and all the comforts of life
The neighbors around, as general thing
were charitable when want was in sigh
but "out Of sight out of mind"
Old Peter, though he was as poor a
the proyerbial turkey in the coop of on
Job, would have starved silently rathe
than have asked charity. And thus h
had lived solitary life this winter unit
his wood, the thoughtful summer Pre-
vision of the old man, had dwindled unde
the demands of an unprecedented white
into few knotty sticks. He was PROV
dent of these
The old pedagogue, as I intended t
say, entered his cabin and seated himsel
in his low chair and nervously sought 70
his spectacles. Then he remembered
with burst of indignant and angry con
tempt for his failing memory, that hi
spectacles had been lost these two day,
and, bless your soul! he was as blinG
as a bat without them
SO he was compelled to smother hi
rampant curiosity With a make-believ,
OF reading and then resting his eyes fo
another onslaught. But not rheumati,
pot-hook of letter could he decipher il
the feeble light of the fire, and at last
thoroughly Disguised with himself fol
his foollshness, he thrust the paper in hi.
pocket and determined to go to bed.
Then as he sat for time revolving in
his mind all the conjectures he could
entertain in regard to that letter, he was
startled from his meditation by 6
tremendous clatter of the old door. i
seemed as if a host of assailants had al
taken good start and flung themselve.
against the old crazy thing that hung {
living lie to the name of door,
Old Tickleby jumped up quicker thar
any of his pupils had under the aid Of
his hand at their coat collars, and stood
looking at the outrageous door, SO calm
ly hanging, as if in humble depreciation
OF any charge Old Tickleby might harbol
In his mind. Then the wind came sigh
ing softly through the crevices at the top
and bottom of the door, increasing
steadily in volume until it was hollow
sound between howl and whistle.
Then it died away into such a human
sigh that Old Tickleby bent forward un-
consciously, as if expecting cry of dis
tress. He held his attitude until all his
expectations died out, and then, as if q
new thought had struck him, he drew up
straight and glanced furtively around
his room.
de hesitated moment and then
walked to the door. and fben hoc;fotod