The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1877-09-15

wakeful life again, resolved to visit the
barn.
C A nest on er NOW and Zhacob's 'ad-
der" were the thoughts turning like
windmill in his busy brain. Sure
enough, there was the very ladder lean
ing against the hay-mow.
What if he should climb it
The rounds were not far apart, and on
one after another he managed to plant
his legs, opening and shutting like pair
of stubby compasses.
Whir.r-r! Squawkk-k! and away went
an old hen over his head, as if she in
stinctively knew that the enemy was
coming.
Whether Ralph thought it was one of
Jacobs angels on the move we can't say.
He kept on, and, as the ladder was not
so very long, he was soon scrambling
over the hay. There was the very win
dow Cynthy had told about, and beneath
was the coveted nest. One nest? There
were two, round as bowls. Oh! dis is
nice" said Ralph. 81 must have
nest"
He cuddled down into the hay and
thought the situation over for awhile.
he was still sleepy after his troubled
nap in the house. BY degrees every
thing began to go from him The long,
dusty sunbeams slanting out of the win
dow seemed to change to some of Jacobs
angels, inclining heavenward for a flight,
and finally slipped away altogether.
Everything grew dark and still. Ralph
was fast asleep. .#.
At supper time Cynthy wondered
where Ralph was, for his large, black
eyes were not there at the table, lighting
up with their usual twinkle over his sau-
Ger of bread and molasses." Twilight
deepened. The last cow-bell came tink-
ling down the lane, soothing as music in
dream. The old Brahma hen went to
her perch in the apple tree, there to
| speculate all night on questions in In
dian philosophy. The sun dipped out of
sight; and in the east the moon, round
as Ralph's head, swung up above the
top of Jones' Hill and blazed away like
bonfire of autumn brush. Where qoas
Ralph?
Cynthy was now flying round like
distressed hen that had lost all her
chickens. No Ralph was to be found,
down in the road, over in the pasture,
up in the garnet. 1t was fairly dark now.
The agonizing Cynthy knew of only
one place more-the barn. She took
down the lantern from its nail in the
back entry, lighted it, and, with thump-
ing heart, sprang for the barn.
Ralph" she shouted, swinging her
lantern in every corner of the big black
building. The COWS, crunching away in
the stalls, looked up with stupid wonder.
Jack, the horse, neighed out his aston
ishment. A bat came Tapping down
from the gloomy rafters and circled up
again.
What was it that Cynthy heard? A
rustling in the hay.
She looked up.
C Ho! Cynfy! Here's Zhacob on his
'adder"
There he was, the dear little-plague,
bending over the ladder, like one of the
Madonna's cherubs, serenely unconscious
OF the perplexity of any mortal below.
He had heard his "Cynfy's" voice, and
crept for the light that flashed among the
tall rafters.
My" said Cynthy, the next day, as
she was telling the story to Mrs Clarke,
just arrived home. Didn't go up that
ladder about as spry as any of Jacobs
angels? And wasn't 1 praying all the
way up that that boy might stick right
where he was? If l had taken tele-
graph wire couldn't have gone quicker.
l didn't say anything to him, but l Just
Struggled that young Jacob up in my
arms, and he didn't say word to me,
Miss Clarke; but l know one of us, at
least, kept up an awful thinkin'' The
next time I'll look out for my stories.
What sharp ears young folks have, Miss
Clarke! Don't you think so? Mrs.
Clarke thought they had, The next mo-
ment Cynthy went whizzing down the
front yard, a ''sweet brier" now, with
all its thorns projected, and shooting
lot of bothersome hens" into the road.
Req. Edaoard A. Rand.