Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1878-09-19
Gales aud Sketches.
MARX GOLDSMITH'S LESSON.

village. He lived in the old red housa
that stands at the Four Corners, where high
and branching elms overhang the roof.
and make the wide open, green yard in
front OF it shady all the summer long.
travellers used to stop their tired horses
at the "Old Red" as it was then familiar
y called. and just let them rest awhile,
| and then drove through the brook, across
the way, to drink of its pure water, which
with gentle murmur, rippled down the
green meadows belonging to Mark. Yet
but few ever came to tarry long at the
"OId Red" for though Mark had large
| farm and spread a good table, he was 90
sur himself. and his housekeeper was so
precise, that no one felt at ease. Some
few OF the old neighbors, who remem.
bered Mark in his younger days had the
| charity to say. "Ah, the old squire was
quite another man before his wife died!
That broke him down"
But at the time of which we write, the
aforesaid housekeeper had Just found in
Jack Wallace. the butcher. 'congenial
spirit" as she confdentially told the old
squire's maiden sister. How that could
be nobody quite understood. for two per.
sons more unlike were not to be found in
the whole county of Berkshire. But Nan
| cy Tompkins was "well-to-do" In the
world, while Jack Wallace's affairs stood
at skies and sevens, so that nobody dared
| to trust him, and when be found that Nam
cy Tompkins would. why. he thought they
were congenial spirits too, and SO they
were married. But what became of Marx
Goldsmith?
1t would be hard to tell had it not been
that cheerful, hazel-eyed daughter was
| part OF Marks household. and under the
Il aiming of Nancy. grown up into one of
the neatest, brightest little house-keepers
that ever was seen on farm.
Now, Mark loved his daughter more
than words could tell but he always acted
a. if he was afraid she would find it out.
So when she came to him with any new
plan, or to tell him of some pleasant
| thing that occurred, he would send her
away with a"pshaw," and q rough word
or two besides Yet, if he found she was
really grieved. he would set his wits to
work to coutrive something that would
make her happy again.
fine ride to the shire town on busi-
ness would be sure to come up the next
day, and. of course. Mary must 90 to hold
| the mare, when he got out to go into the
bank or store. Now, Mary liked a ride
of this kind right well, especially as it
usually resulted in the present of new
gown OF French caliker," as Mark called
it, or what she liked still better, q book
from Giles County Bookstore. 1t was an
extra offence on his part that got Mary
this favor. for though Mark liked books
well enough, he thought sit was no use
TO lumber up the house with EN-" He
took" the 'CuliivatOr,' and sister Sally
had the Recorder and that was as much
readin' as he could get through with.
For his part he had no idea of weakening
his brains taskin' them so. Mary might
if she would" and then Mark would give
grunts, and stop talking about it.
But these occasional flashes of affection
that broke out upon Mary, could not make
amends for the want of kind words now
and then at the time they were needed.
III he wouldn't say pshaw to me-" she
would say to herself. Il could get along;
but that is such hateful word, as though
he didn't care bit whether was happy
or not"
Some two months before the time our
story commences, good parson Hopkins
died, and his vacant pulpit was now filed
by young minister. to whom the society
lauerly gave call.
IL was many weeks before Mark Gold
smith could be induced to go and hear the
young as he called him, preach.
But when he did. Mary felt almost sure
that for once her father would agree with
her in his opinion of the minister. So
she broke the customary silence Of their
homeward ride, ty saying -
| Now, father, dld you ever hear bet
ter sermon ?"
"Pshaw!" said Mark. "One of Parson
Hopkins was worth forty on 'em."
1 n in ha oh xust
sigh. saying mentally, Its no use; my
father is bent up,n dsliking everything
and everybody"
The young minister had never called
at the "Old Red" but he had got as far
as aunt Sarah's, which was only two
houses off, and it so occurred that the very
hour he was there, Mary stepped in to see
aunt Sarah, too. She was SO surprised
on gong into the parlor. TO find visitor
there, that she stopped abashed in the
doorway, with her sun bonnet in her
hand, and her cheeks blushing like June
roses.
"My neice, Mary Goldsmith" +" said aunt
Sarah.
The minister rose ana held out his hand
and while Mary stammered out an apology
for intrudiDg, he said, "A very welcome
intrusion, Miss Mary" OF course, when
he went away, Miss Mary had to invite
him to call at the ''Old Red" some time,
and see bSr father; and of course he did
not forget the invitation. Mark Gold
smith was not at home the day he came.
but Mary told him "lhe minister waited
full hour in hopes he would come" We
do not vouch ior the truth Of her state
ment.
Mary always went to the Friday even
ing meeting with aunt Sarah, and Mark al
ways sat up until she got home. One
evening he was sure he heard deeper
toned voice than woman's conversing
with her ~ she came up the yard. But
the good nights" were exchanged out
side the door she came in alone. She saw
a cloud had settled down ON the old mans
brow. but it cleared away as his eyes fell
on her face. radiant with happiness. for
so like her mot her was she at that moment
he longed 10 fold her to his heart and tell
her OF it. But never q lover more jsxl.
| Ouslv hid his ma ssiOn than Marx Coldsmiih