Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1878-02-28
TIMOTHY WARE, ESQ.
Harper's Weekly.

Mr.. Timothy Ware stood at his gar
den gate and looked down the road.
You might have noticed him, perhaps,
as you passed alOng-a wrinkled, keen
eyed, elderlv.man. Now elderllness.
take it, is further off from the sweet
ripeness and flavor of old age than
youth itself To be elderly presupposes
some thinness of blood, some sort Of
inexpressible poverty of nature, such as
there seems to be al about this region
where T. Wares house is located-a
range Of long, lUw-lying, uneasy hIllocks
that could never settle themselves to
any thing: a sandy, incapable stretch Of
thread-bare grass and stunted woodland.
It was not an easy thing to imagine
that Just over the south ridge lay q smil-
ing and fruitful country, thrifty settle
ment of Quaker farmers, who held
themselves, perhaps, a little too much
aloof from this inhospitable neighbOr-
hood.
It was a chill October afternoon, and
the low slant rays of the setting sun
looked furtively out from blue-black
ridge of cloud over the garden and the
gardens owner. There had been q
frost overnight, which had wiped out
almost every lingering vestige Of sum
mer-time. A few elderly beans chung
shrinkingly to their poles in the bleak
backgr Jund; scanty patch Of corn
rustled its sere Leaves forlornly in the
wind, with here and there pumpkin
ripening sparsely between, and turning
out its yellow rotundity to the sun, rs
resolved to put the best face on things
that was possible; while, tall and stark,
row Of sun-hoWers, Tapping gauntly
above the hedge, overlooked the desola-
ton.
AS old Ware stood there at his gate
and looked about him, with his faded
red cap on his head and his lank dres-
slng-gown clinging about him, he
seemed verify part of the frost-bitten
scene, illustrating it feebly, like an i'll
cut frOntispiece in Il badly printed vol
ume. Yet there was q tradition that he
had once upon time been the chief
figure In q great concern somewhere III
town, and that in some forgotten period
long ago the old weather-beaten house
had Haunted gayly in new coat of
paint and bright green shutters, and
was bright with new carpets and cur
tains to welcome n coming bride. But
all that was SO far away now that peo-
pie had forgotten the date, and could
not recall that they had ever been in
terested in any thing concerning old
Ware.
Tin Ware, Esq, the boys called him
"a nickname based, perhaps, on a
floating legend of miser-made wealth
slowed somewhere away in the loose
clap-boarding of his tenement, or per-
haps intended briefly to bear testimony
to the value set upon him in the COM
munity-Tin Ware, ESQ, was not
popular man among the lads in the vii
lage. They had a persistent inclination
to boot him, to gibe at him, and to tor
ment his lean, ill-tempered dog, which
followed his master everywhere with a
snarling and Objectionable faithfulness
The boys, considering all these things,
felt themselves called upon to vindicate
the claims of Justice by robbing old
Wares orchard and breaking into his
melon patch. Things in this way were
brought to sort Of balance. | myself
saw one day, as l passed his fence, 81
huge charcoal placard, reading thus
3. Ware of The DAWG.
And many bare-legged youngster, |
have no doubt, hid snickering in the
hedge at the sight of old Ware slowly
deciphering the scrawl in wrathful spec
tacles
But very few besides the boys ever
troubled the old man with attentions,
either for good or i'll. He seemed to
have slipped from the mind of both
men and fate-an elderly shriveled old
figure whom Time had forgotten to dig
Nifty with gray hair.
He looked up and down the road
keenly with his frosty blue eye, not as
a man who expected any thing or any
body but simply because it was his
habit TO look sharply. And yet rs this
northeasterly glance swept the road,
there came along it something far from
unpleasant to look upon-a gray figure
in Quaker bonnet. There would have
been a smile of welcome in almost any
body's eye as the plump quiet Quaker
face of Rebecca Rhodes approached,
Tut not q spark kindled in old Wares
tiinty gray orbs.
Rebecca's well-kept acres lay just be
yond him, over the south ridge, and all
about her farmhouse was trim and tidy,
clean and wholesome, as Rebecca her.
self. 1t must have been the love Of
contrast that brought her i'll range of
Timothy's dilapidated surroundings;
but of all living things in the village
Rebecca alone had good word for
him, and stopped of an odd afternoon
now and then TO wish him good-day
over the gate.
q have brought thee loaf of sweet
bread, neighbor," said she. I'D an
uncommon good baking this week, and
| thought thee might not take it amiss
to try loaf" She held forth in her
white plump hand snow-white nap
kin, opening its folds temptingiy as she
did so.
I'm wanting naught," was the gruff
reply. "Week-old breads good enough
for me, and | make no doubt If might
be far better for some other folk than
the dainty trash they're set upon
women-folk leastways."
The blood came into Rebeccas calm
lace, but there was no vexation in her
answer. "Thee'd never set aside an
old friend like that, neighbor," she said.
"Nay, nay; recommend thee try the
loaf. It's spoken well of, is my sweet
bread, the country round. Thee viii
not shorten thy days much by just one
trial, and if thee likes it not, I'll never
trouble thee again"