The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1876-01-20
The True Story OF Ponto.


esWillicl Kicking old Ponto! Sup
pose should kick you in the same way?"
''Well, you might" said Willie, with a
very red face. eff I'd been half as hate
full as Ponto, anybody might kick me.
There I'd raked all the leaves into pile,
and he came numbering along and just
walked right through them and sent
them every way. 1t wasn't play. He's
too stupid to play. He ought to be
killed. F."
sI know a little boy who ran into a
basket of clean clothes Bridget had just
taken TO the top of the stairs, and who
sent shirts and cuffs and collars flying
down together. Do you think he ought
TO be killed."
'tOh! well, was running, and didn't
see the basket, and it hadn't any bust
ness there, any way. Now Ponto saw
well enough. He's so old he doesn' t
know anything. You can't have any fun
with him. I wish we had new dog"
''I DON'T" said Grace, who had come
up behind. eyes, I do, too. I'd like a
new dog for play, and Ponto for the
comfort of it. He's SO nice to lie down
by on the rug"
he has doneg' Mrs. Allen asked. "Where
were YOU when he was sent here?"
''At grandma's, guess" Oracle said,
after a moments thought. "He was
here when we came to aunty's. I know
she said you got him at the seaside, and
the letter that was sent with him was
lost. so she never could tell why you
wanted him. Why did you, mamma 2"
II lie
are here" Mrs. Allen said, patting Pom
to's beautiful head. ''Poor fellow At
ter tea, children, we'll talk about it. !"
Grace and Will were ready at the APP
pointed time, Grace curled up on the
rug by Ponto, and Willie in his low
chair, looking attentively at the deli
cate mother, with whom he said he &c did
not feel at all acquainted yet" This
was not surprising, as for nearly three
years Mrs Allen had been travelling for
her health, often Ill for weeks at time
and unable to get away from wherever
she happened to be; and the children
had been with Aunt Lizzie, their fathers
sister.
Willie remembered perfectly their own
pretty home, near Boston, and the dread
full day when he and Grace, standing on
the piazza, had seen two frightened
horses dash up the carriage-way, drag
cling behind them fragments of what had
been the carriage. Now and then he saw
again In dream the group of men who
presently came In sight, carrying what
they thought must be their dead moth
~er, as they looked at the pale, motion
less figure. He could remember the
long days In which she lay unconscious,
her first sitting up, and then their be-
ing taken to grandmother while Mrs.
Allen went to the seaside for quiet and
change of air. She had grown better
very slowly. Something wrong with the
spine, the doctors said and, to save her
life, they had given up all thought of
returning home, and had been in Eu-
rope for over two years. Letters had
come and gone constantly but the best
letter can never take the place of spo-
ken words, and Willie felt as if father,
mother and little brother were three
agreeable strangers, who must become
friends as soon as possible.
you have drawing CT the light
house, and old Ponto on the steps,
haven't you, Willie, Mrs. Allen asked.
esIt's in frame,' Grace answered for
ulIlts udkuSulS up III w A14O . OWu IOOu1s
Pumpkin Island lighthouse. What a
queer name Were there many pump
kins?"
seNot one," Mrs. Allen said, "nor
was il a real island, save at high water.
The lighthouse stood on point some
two miles from the village; water on
three sides and at the back long, low
.sandbar, covered at high tide, as I have
said, and only coarse green salt-grass
growing upon it in patches here and
there. It was very lonely spot, ano
vet L think you would have liked it.
The salt spray dashed over our windows
when q storm came-but that was sci
dom and the blue wide sea, with Mt
Desert in the distance, was always before
us. The beach was white and firm, and
when grew strong enough to go abou
at all, papa used to spread shawl
there, and I lay hours at time listen
ing to the lap of waves OF the shor
and thinking about my boy and girl a
home.
g Pcnto always kept guard, eithe
over me or little Fred. He had beer
famous in his time, having saved MAJ
from q wreck, years before. AL abou
under the beautiful blue water wer
sunken rocks, and the lighthouse stoo
Ehere to warn sailors off the dangerou
coast. Ponto wa always restless whe