The Portland daily press., 1878-11-25

pleasure trip West AS they CHANGED to meet at
The Sherman House, Chicago, at the close OF
November day.
81 understood him to say that you were to
marry her Immediately, and he would nave
that clause about you and your wife put In
the will to let you know that at the last,
Ruth wishing the estates to be willed to you,
had told him of your engagement. although
you had commanded her to keep it secret.
Just like a woman" said the old lawyer
severely. 81 mistrusted then that you would
lose your head when you found yourself
possessed of a quarter of Million"
81 was consequential and disagreeabe to
her; see it now" said Hezekiah humbly,
burying his face in his hands as he thought
of delicate, petted. sunny-haired Ruth giving
up her heritage for love of him and going
awav from her home to act as nursery gov
erness for EbeneZer Much's half do zen troub
lesome offspring.
81 guess I will go home Thanksgiving after
ALL" he said. "Perhaps it would not be pay
ing proper respect to Uncle Hezekiah's MEM
DRY for me to stay away
So it came about that at - o'clock on
Thanksgiving day Hezekiah was rowed across
from the harbor and he jumped ashore at the
landing at the foot of the hill near his house.
As he walked across lots up to the man
sion, he picked here and there an English
daisy thinking how well his uncle had loved
them, how he always had them about him,
and wondering if he should find Ruth at the
party, and if it would do to give her the little
nosegay in memory OF their kind uncle.
He had walked slowly with bowed head
musing upon the past and present, but as he
reached the brow of the hill he looked up
with feeling of thankfalness that he was
once more at home. He had left that Much
mansion a plain, square, substantial, three
story dwelling, painted white, with green
NJ e. cnil hi,
c0lored structure, with blinds, cornices and
all sorts of fanciful trimmings In pale blue.
sWhat is the matter with me ?" said young
'Kiah to himself, cam going to have fit?
My grandfather died of apoplexy." He
opened the hall door and went in. The po-
sition of the rooms was unchanged, but not a
familiar object met his eye. In place of the
solid old carved oaken furniture, he saw all
sorts of light, modern. stylish tete-a-tetes,
chairs and tables. The oak panelling on the
walls was covered with gay lowered and gilt
paper; the fre-places were stopped up by
elaborate steam generators; the old family
portraits and pictures had given place to
gaudy engravings and chromos. He passed
from one parlor to another, through the Ii
brary and into the dining room, where fine
extension tables took the place of Uncle
Hezekiah's hospitable board, which formerly
on festive occasions, extended from one end
to the other of the long room. Not seeing
any one except two or three strange servants
he stepped through a glass panelled door
upon the lawn overlooking the sea. There a
strange sight presented itself. On the
| high bluff there was huge pile of furniture
of every description, from his great-grand-
mothers spinning wheel to the hassock
which used to support Uncle Hezekiah's
equity foot. Gathered around it was the
whole Much tribe, old and young, talking,
clamoring and gesticulating. The "Widow
Nancy, in elaborate dinner dress, with
flaming torch in her hand, stood ready to
apply the fire to the kindings beneath the
ing with indignation, confronted her, forbid
| ding her in the Lame of all the Much ances-
| try to iDjure an article.
AS HezekIah drew near, they all made a
great rush to meet him, but with one accord
were silent, fearing to lose word of "Widow
Nancy's" defense. She was perfectly self
posed, as usual. "Oh, my DEAR" she said,
/ 81 am so glad you have come. You will stop
this clamor, land bid this foolish child, Ruth not
to NEEDLE again With your wife's affairs. re-
member hearing your uncle say that in the
old days, when many of the Much family led
a seafaring life, the women and children on
Thanksgiving days used to make huge bon
| fire on this bluff to let the men know when
! dinner was ready. thought 1t pretty Gus
| tom, and wished to observe it to day. 1t
seemed, too, such nice way Of getting rid of
hated it. How do you like the house? You
came through, see. hope it pleased you.
am so fond of change. wish was not,
but,I am, and do like new things"
"All poor folks without An ancestry dos
muttered uncle Samuel Much, hobbling along
toward the husband and wife. The Much
relatives nodded assent, but Hezekiah lad
not spoken, and had not taken his eyes from
the face of sunny-haired Ruth, who, by few
expressive gestures, made her wishes known
to him. 1t was nothing new; she and young
'Kiah had always understood each other BY
| pantomine since the days when they went to
the primary school together.
He was very pale as he cast glance up
| over the heap OF bedsteads, tables, and chairs
| to the very top of the pile, where stood uncle
Hezekiah's griffin chair aud his solid little
claw-footed table with tiny pot of English
daisies thereon. The young mans blood
boiled at that; he understood the subtle ven
ON evinced by this course on the part of his
wife: that while seeming to do this as a pref
| ty tribute 10 the memory of the former owner
of the place, she had in reality hated the old
man and intended to eradicate all reminders
of him-root and branch.
Young 'Kiah caught the torch from his
wife's hand and threw it over the rocks into
the sea. Then quickly mounting the pile he
handed down the griffin chair and clawfooted
table. He gave them with the little pot of
daisies, on which he had laid his own little
nosegay, to Ruth. Then telling his assem-
bled relatives to divide the rest of the furni-
ture as they pleased, he walked slowly to-
wards the house.
A few only of the cousins went in to the
elaborate dinner of stylish French dishes.
There was not one thing to remind them that
it was Thanksgiving, or to keep uncle Heze-
kiah's memory green. There was no blessing
asked, no hymns, songs or games. and the
children did not have their usual merry little
dance to end off with.
The Much family returned to their respec-
tive homes filled with gall and bitterness to-
wards widow Nancy. vbut each with fam.
lily memorial in the way of some piece of fur
niture from the old mansion.
How those relics were treasured and rubbed
and oiled and polished and given conspicuous
places in the several households! AS the
rage for old furniture grew into fashion the
widow Nancy" became possessed with it,
and went about from house to house among
the Much relatives, entreating for just one
little article, but not one would they give.
So she contented herself with painting and
papering and furnishing anew, for change she
must have. There was another and only one
Thanksgiving feast of French cooking. and
to that Hezekiah and his wife sat down alone
Before the holidays came the next year the
great change came to the Widow Nancy, and
young 'Kiah was once more free.
There was no one to mourn very sincerely
for the poor woman; and as far as her hus-
band was concerned he felt sense of relief,
very far removed from the feeling of bereave-
ment.
Hezekiah had done wrong and was sorry
for it, but finding that he had suffered enough
to partly expiate his sin, he went straight to
Ruth and most humbly asked her pardon.
In the exuberance of her joy at reconciliation
she gave him all their uncle's parting instruc-
tions. And Hezekiah in turn, that the dear
old gentleman might no longer be placed in a
false light, proclaimed the story to every
member of the Much family.
| Such rejoicing as there was over the fact that
the family favorite, sunny-haired Ruth, was
| to be reinstalled at the mansion on the hill.
| They all begged so hard for the wedding to be
| on the next THANKSGIVING day, that, although
| the Widow Nancy had not been dead quite
year, they concluded to please all parties by
| suffering il TO he so