The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1875-12-18
THE ONLY PUMPKIN.


the friends and relatives who had spent
a merry evening at the house had taken
themselves away, with loud laughter
and invitations to "come over soon,"
shouted out Of the darkness as the wagon
rolled away; after the children had been
sent to bed in high glee at the unwouted
intraction on early hours, and while his
wife was still putting away the silver
and fine table linen, that Farmer Field
ing went out alone, with lantern swing
ing in his hand, to take u last lock at
the stable and cow-house, and make
sure that the great barn door was prop
eriy fastened.
He should have returned In ten min.
utes, but twenty mad passed, when Mrs.
Fielding, looking at The clock, asked her.
self, in some surprise. what Hiram could
have found.t to do? And when ten more
followed without bringing him, and ten
more followed them, sne grew a little
alarmed, and tossing a shawl over her
head went down the path that led from
the Kitchen to the barn, calling:
"HIraml HlramV
Tnege was no answer.
"HHamw she called again, her voice
taking on that shrill and unmusical tone
which fright brings with it; "Hiram!-
speak! where are your
She stood by the barn door now, and
it was wide open, swinging in the wind
ON its great hinges; and within all was
silent and dark. There was not sound
not a glimmer of light from the lantern.
Surely her husband would not have left
the barn door open like that; surely
ii he were there she should see him, or
hear him at least, even if the lantern had
gone out.
sob, Hiram!" she cried; don't scare
m m n
deed I'm turning faint. Pm So"
There she paused, struck dumb with
terror. She had taken a step forward,
and her foot had struck something soft
and heavy that lay Oh the barn floor
something that did not move, but that
Ielt as though it ought to have done SO.
The faintness had gone; In its place was
that horror which we all know, and
which is different from any personal ter-
roi', and far worse. She guessed what
1t was her foot had touched.
She did not utter his name now. She
knelt down and stretched out her hands,
and felt about. The first thing that she
touched was a cold, limp hand, that fell
ihertIy over hers as she lifted it. Then
felt upw ard from it, and touched face,
cold also. She gathered 1t up to her
breast. Dark as 1t Was, she knew well
enough that it was the head that had
rested there so often; her hand went
through his curls and little moan es-
capped her.
"Dead," she sobbed, "dead, dead,
dead" And then her voice came back
in wall that rang out upon the night
air and brought from the kitchen Madge,
s.the help,o and her beau, Ben, who had
been lingering over parting there.
Ben, a great, stalwart fellow, lifted the
master in his arms and carried him into
the Eitchen. How Sara Fielding got
there she never knew, but as she knelt
by the long settee and wondered whether,
with all those babies upstairs, it was
fight for her to pray to die, too, hope
came back to her in a word from Ben:
"Missus,"he said, "boss ain't dead-he
amt no such thing; he's stunned like.
No doubt he's hurt mighty bad, but Lor,
no--not dead. / wouldn't say SO If i
missus, and 60 tor the doctor. He'll
come to-he'll come to; tell you he'll
come to, missus."
Then it seemed to the poor woman as
II heaven had opened its gates and given
her glimpse OF glory.
She bent over him as he lay on his pill
low, aud heard the elatter OF the herse's
hoois over the Etviy road, dulled by the
pangs of the wooden bridge for awhile,
and then sharper, though fainter, on the
highway leading townwards
How long would it be before the doe
tor came? She did not know. II he
were at home, why, soon. Ii some one
else had called him, who could tel?
Meanwhile she bathed the poor, bleed
ing head, while Madge chafed the cold
hands, cooling words as to babe. And
at last she saw, indeed, that he lived.
More color came back to his cheek. His
ewes opened; but when she spoke to
him he answered her only with greans.
One of the children had been awakened
by the noise, and crept down stars-a
little white ghost, with scared face-and,
seeing what had happened, had awaken
ed the rest by her cries.
And, in the midst of this, the door
opened, and, thank Heayen-the doctor!
But, worse than that, Ben, with horror
in his eyes, and the hand pointing over
his shoulder toward the red glare that
flashed up toward the sky.
Madge saw and comprehended, and
quietly slipped out after him. The barn
was on fire; and while the poor wife
within the shuttered room had one
thought only, t'wlll he love better than
the world beside live or die?" despite
the fruitless aid that came too late,
though it was freely offered, barn and
stable, nay aud cattle were licked up by
the devouring flames. And ali the efforts
OF the bewildered neighbors only ayailed
to save the little homestead and one
poor little COW, dragged by Madge's
faithful hands into safety at the risk OF
her own life.
ga poor Thanksgiving for Mrs. Field
ing" said many a kindly matron as she
heard the news next morning. Yet Sara
Fielding was at that very hour thank
ing God; for, as the doctor went away,
he had put out the good wrinkled hand
that had given her her first spoonful of
medicine when she was baby, and that
had held up her own babies for her to
look at in her new motherhood, and had
patted her on the head, and said:
.'Keep up your heart, Sara--keep up
your heart. We'll get him through YET.
You'll not be u widow this timer
He would live, and what did she care
for barn or storel Let all 60, SO that she
had him.
But there was weary time before her
days OF fevor and delirium, days Of
weak misery when the strong man had
become like a fretful child. Sara's round
cheeks grew thin and her hands began
to show their bones. Often she won.
dered whether she could keep on her
feet much longer. but she did. and after