The Portland daily press., 1877-11-03


stairs-stacks and stacks of it. She was so
proud of her file. It's no use at all now,
suppose, is it John?"
1.-The ragman will give penny pound
for it," | suggested; "that's something"
"We'll weigh the lot one of these days
and see what we can realize" said John.
"Good night, children"
It was a ghostly task which we set out 10
do next day. The past itself, the faint, frag-
mentary past, seems to be wrapped up and
enclosed in those bundles of time-worn ar
ticles with which elderly people cucumber
their store-rooms and closet shelves. Some
and mingling with our modern air produces
an impression half laughable, half sad.
Aunt Priscilla had been born collector.
She loved old things because they were old,
apart from use or value, and instinct and
principle combined had kept her from ever
throwing away anything in her life. Had
she been richer her garrett would indeed
have proved a mine of treasures for the bric-
a-brac hunters. No tin peddler would have
laid eyes on her andirons; her claw-legged
tables would have held their place, her
Spode and Worcester wares sat undisturbed
upon their upper shelf century in and out.
But Aunt Priscilla had no claw-legged tables,
no brasses or old china. Instead, we found
vast stores of odds and ends bits of by-gone
dresses, rolls Of faded chintz, papers yellow
with age, pamphlets which no mortal had
ever read or would read, old books, cover
less or with pages torn away, scraps OF rusty
iron, screws without heads, and nails with
out points. The furniture, though neat and
whole, was of the plainest. Even our I'M
practiced eyes could see its lack of value.
Who would want to buy the old-time dimity
curtains, with ball fringes sewed along their
edges, or the counterpanes, made by Aunt
Prscilla's own hands out of the calicoes OF
her youth? Our list was very short one.
A few chairs and tables, dozen thin spoons
and a small teapot in silver, the huge news
paper heap which I had appraised at a penny
the pound-these seemed the only salable
things; and we looked comically and
grimly into each others faces as we set them
down.
81 wish It were possible to eat Intelligent
GERS" said I.
"They say newspapers make excellent
counterpanes," replied Sue-''warmer than
Blankets
s'Yes, and they say that teaspoonful of
Liebig's Extract gives as much nourshment
as ever so much roast beef" retorted 7, but it
seemed to me when tried it, that except for
a taste in my mouth as if I had swallowed an
old shoe, I shouldn't have known that had
eaten anything at all:'
John came as usual in the evening. "E[ere's
enterprise p he called out as he came in.
"What is enterprise?"
"The Intelligencer. Behold it, large as
life, and looking just as usual, only forty
eight hours after the fire! That's what 1
call pluck"
''Isn't itp' cried Sue, admiringly, as she
drew the paper from its wrapper, and held it
to the blaze that she might see the familiar
page. Meanwhile I took from nay pocket
our melancholy little list.
"You were right, John. Sue and have
searched the house over to-day, and this
Is all there is of any value-the furni-
ture, q little silver, and those wretched Intel
lsgencers.
1 was interrupted by startled cry. Sue
was gazing at the newspaper in her hand
with large dilated eyes. Her cheeks had
flushed pink.
"What is itp" What is the matterr" both
Of us cried in breath.
"Just read this! Oh, John, don't be-
l!eve it! Read,'
She thrust the paper into his hand, and he
read:
&1OOO THE OFFICE FILE OF OUR PAPER
sD1VUVs having been destroyed by fire on the
evening OF the 18th inst, offer the above price
for complete and perfect set of the Intelligencer
sons able to supply set stated will please COM
municate with the publisher. P. o. Box 1851, New
York.
GA thousand dollars! Oh, Sue! oh John!
what piece Of good fortune! Dear aunty-
think Of her file turning out such treasure!
1t is too wonderful to be true, feel as
though 1t were dream;'' and I danced up
and down the kitchen floor.
John and Sue were equally excited.
"Only' promised the former, "we mustn't
forget that some else may have file of the
Intelligencer and get ahead of u.s."
This wet blanket of suggestion kept me
awake all night. My thoughts kept flying
to New York, anticipating the letter which
we had written, and John posted over night
for the early stage. If it should be lost in
the mails When morning came, I was too
about noon John walked in, comfort in
his eyes.
"Why, John. how funny to see you here
at this hour! Why do you look SO? You
haven't heard yet; you can't, for the letter
is only halfway there"
"But I haze heard! I got ahead of the
letter-drove over to the junction, tele-
graphed, paid for the answer, and here it is"
"Blessed Johnl This was the telegram:
Send file at once Check ready to your order:
How we cried and laughed and kissed each
other. How much that message meant! To
John and Sue, the satisfaction of their love,
life spent together, the fruition of deferred
hopes; to me, the lifting of heavy weight,
home, security, the shelter of my sisters
wing, the added riches of brother who was
brotherly in every deed. And all this for a
thousand dollars! Oh, how much money
can do sometimes! and at other times, how
little We had grown somewhat calmer,
though Sue still kept her sweet wet face hid
den on Johns shoulder, and quivered and
sObbed now and then, when turned emotion
into new channel by Selling tumbler of
memory of the late Samuel F. Morse"
John seized another, and added, "The In
teuigencer-may it rise like phenix from its
ashesp'
I leave you to guess if we did not drink this
heartily.