Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-08-02

bis trunks?"' and the audible informa-
ton, GIVE filled your pitcher. Here's
q candle. The git-up bell II ring at
six"
With as slight preparation as might
be, the overwearied girl-hom esick to
her hearts core-crept into bed.
She awoke with a start. The room
WIS quite dark; cool, damp mountain
wind rushed through the open windows.
She lighted a match and glanced at her
watch. Only 9 O'Clock, and the world
still wide awake. A burst of hilarious
laughter arose from the kitchen below,
where the returned fishermen were
scaling their fish. From the house be-
You'd the orchard came the tinkling of
a piano, and thin, sharp female voice
practiced gingerly song just then
come into vogue: 4
No one to love, none to caress, ll0ue
Travelling alone through LIES wilderness.
| My serenade," thought Louisa, as
she tried in vain to recompose herself
to sleep. "Could any words express
me better? An orphan, without broth
er or sister, penniless, nearly friendless,
the one being that loved and adored
gone from nee forever. No one to
love, none to caress. Could anything
be truer Of me than that"
The village school children were en-
chanted with their new teacher, She
was gentle and firm, interesting and
companionable. There was not sun
ny day all summer when some of them
did not come after school to take her
with them to Red Cedar Pond, the hol-
iday rendezvous of the country round.
If the afternoon proved rainy, and
this juvenile escort failed, Miss Thatch-
er, wrapping herself in waterproof, and
taking a book with her would 60 down
the orchards steep bank to the old mill
She "made friends with Tim, the
miller's boy, and Bill Bowles, the miller,
and the old Deacon" the prehistoric
proprietor of the premises, who had
not failed day these fifty years to look
in, rain or shine, to see If things was
to rights"
She found love of a corner where,
through the cracks under the great
beams, she could see the water rushing,
and where she could hear, in its grand
excitement, the grind and whirl, the
boom and splash, of the mad food
whose sound up ON the hill yonder as
sumed such drovsy monotone.
"You be so fond of readin', miss, ~
said Tim, the miller's boy, "mebbe
you'd take a shine to Gurus book we've
got .'ere. There was time when al
the visitors TO Red Cedar Pond cum
down to take q look at it; but it's grown
rusty like. A hand-writ book, miss
manscrip sum folks calls it. It b'longs
you might say, to Bowles' Mills, for i
wus left with the old Deacon to bt
kept till called fur, an was writ by tht
curusest spesmin Of human cretur
but he died afore my time. I'm s
stranger in these parts. [ wus reared
twelve miles back"
"And no one has called for the
book?" .......-
"Not yit," said Tim, mysteriously-
mot yit. Folks is too sup'stitious
| There be sum who say it never will bs
called fur till the old deacon lies aside
O the cretur who writ it. He died sud
din, an was buri'd up in the deacon'
burl'I lot. An sum say he wusn't buri'd
but Is gone on a sea wage, an III com,
back; an sum say he's been seen bOdi
ly round Bowles' Mil moonlight nights
But you needn't be scared, miss. Tn
book Is nat'ral harmless. An if vol
say SO, I'll git it fur you this mint, an
when you're through readin' ont, IT
put it back"
Up to the rafters he climbed nimbl
by certain foot-holds not very visible
and brought down, with a flying lea
that startled Miss Thatcher to her fee
in nervous apprehensions for his safety
dusty volume which he gallantl
wiped upon his coat sleeves and offered
An autobiography, is not so very old
for its closing date was 1874. Fou
hundred pages of yellow letter-pape
stitched together by a dozen sheets, an,
finally bound in wrap Of black leath
er. Written in fine, pointed hand
difficult to read at first but once mas
tered in it's idiosyncracies, legible a
ease. And having this popularity; OF
almost every page, mixed up with tn
text, were maps carefully drawn ant
dotted, inclosed in neatly ruled paral
telegram, but without any figures. G.
marginal reference to show connection
with the writing. a
81 I'M one of the two brothers," tn,
narrative commenced, Kin all points a
unlike, from the moment of birth, q
Jacob and Esau."
Then followed, interspered with thu
incomprehensible maps, brief histor,
Of an unhappy childhood, unloved a.
childhood could be, an adolescence,
utterly unblessed and dissatisfied; ant
after page of atheistical TRADE agains
the inequality of fortune and the bite
tyranny of fate, the personal histor,
developed into descriptive diary O
travels and business connections il
South America, whittier the writer hat
immigrated in his twenty year.