St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1878-04-19

knelt by the long settee and wondered
whether with all those babies up stairs
it was right for her to pray to die, too,
hone came back to her in a word from
Ben.
Missus, he said, boss amt 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 it warn't true. I'll fetch him into
bed, missus, and go for the doctor. He'll
come to-he1l come to; tell you he'll
come to.
Then it seemed to the poor woman
as if heaven had opened its gates and
given her glimpse of glory.
She bent over him as he lay on his
pillow, and heard the clatter of the
horses hoOfs over the stony road, dulled
by the planks of the wooden bridge,
for while, and then sharper, though
fainter, on the highway leading town
ward.
How long it would be before the doc
tor came she did not know. If he were
at home, why, soon. If some one else
had called him, who could tell? Mean
while she bathed the poor, bleeding
head, while Madge chafed the cold
hands, and with her white lips whis-
pered fond, comforting words as to a
baby. And at last she saw, indeed,
that he lived. More color came to his
cheek. His eyes opened but when
she spoke to him he answered her only
with grOans.
ed by the noise, and crept down stairs
face-and seeing what had happened,
had awakened the rest by her cries.
And in the midst of this the door
opened, and, thank heaven the doc
tor! but worse than that Ben, with
horror in his eyes, and hand pointed
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 oil fire; and while the poor wife
within the suffered room had one
thought only. Will he | love better
than the world beside live or die2 de-
spite the fruitless aid that came too
late, though it was freely offered, barn
and stable, hay and cattle, were licked
up by the devOuring flames. And all
the efforts of the bewidered to save the
little homestead and one poor COW,
dragged by Madge's faithful hands into
a place OF safety.
A poor Thanksgiving for Mrs. Field
ing, said many a kindly matrOn as she
heard the news next morning. Yet Sa-
IA Fielding was at that very hour
thanking God for, as the doctor went
away, he had put out the good wrink
led hand that had given her the first
spoonful of medicine when she was a
baby, and that had held up her own
babies for her to look at in her new
motherf ood, and had patted her on the
head, and said:
Keep up your heart, Sara-keep up
your heart. Well get him through
yet. You'll not be widow this time.
He would live, and what did she care
for the barn or store? Let all go, so
that she had him.
But there was a weary time before
her days of fever and delirium, days
of weak misery, when the strong man
had become like Il fretful child. Sara's
round checks gIew thin, and her hands
began to show their bones. Often she
wondered whether she could keep up
much longer. but she did and, after
three months illness, Hiram got about
again, gaunt and sallow, and lame, too
although that would pass away in a
month or SO, the doctor said-and was
well enough himself to make it necessa-
ry that he should be told what had
happened that his barn was burnt, his
hay, his corn, all his provisions nearly
gone, and his horses and oxen, too
just the one dun COW that gave them
milk, tied in shed that Ben had
knocked together, that was all.
| suppose my lantern broke in the
hay, Sara, he said, when he could speak.
| found the door open, and went in,
and there was man there. grappled
him, and he struck me-that's all i
know. Either my lantern did it, or the
man was there to fire the barn. How
ever it was, it's all over now. 1t will
take-Sara, you took care of my pOck-
et-book 4?
Darling, she said, have patience.
Your pocket book has not been found.
I've drawn all my little savings to live
on. l thought you might remember
where
/ always wore it in my vest, he said
You know that kept all L had about
me. There were five hundred dollars
in money, too, and receipts l dare not
lose, for they are signed by rascals
Sara, every chance l had of retrieving
my losses is gone, sure, forever. l sup,
pose was robbed us J lay senseless
and l thought my own person better
and safer than any bank. Look at me
now, miserable, crippled, shaking shad
ow, that any child could master.
But you'll get strong again, said Sara
and we've the house and the land. Bu
Hiram was too weak to feel any hope
or courage. He took to his bed again
and lay there still when it was time fol
farmer to be busy.
However, he did not die, and there
was another convalescence. Sara haG
not had time to be i'll. She dared not
What she could do she had done. Bu
a farm needs its master. If they raised
enough for food that year, despite
neighbOrly kindness and Ben's vow tC
work forever without wages if need be
that was all they could do. And it wal
poor year. No fruit to speak of, veg
etables small and mean, and corn dis
appointment.
Moreover one of Fielding's creditor,
did prove himself rascal and al
though the farmer swore to having paid
this debt, there was no receipt to bt
found, and mortgage of the land was
the consequence. Often the discouraged
man declared that he wished the THE
had also murdered him, and he mean
it.
But Sara Fielding kept her courage
up, and now that her husband was fair
ly on his feet, and had even flung away
cane and crutch, would have been per
fectly happy could she have made hin