The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1879-08-29
1.-THE Talking Windmill. "

1t is gone now; do not believe a
single splinter of it remains, not even
the posts that supported it, and tine
place where it stood is overgrown with
tall grass and weeds; but / know it
stood out there once. The talking
windmill" Yes, it is queer name, but
L choose to call it go, for long ago-oh |!
years and years ago, when | was little
school girl-it used to stand or hang
out there between the two implanted
posts, and in the cold nights, when the
wind blew fercely across the fields,
sending storm of fine snow before it
and making the old trees fairly shrek,
and rafting the doors and windows, L
would listen to it. One such night, all
of sudden the old windmill began a
loud protest against all this needless
hustle and rage. How it did gesticu-
late !-how its arms did beat and whirl |!
while in its unearthly voice it pleaded
with the wild night. "Cease, o, cease
Cease, 0, cease!" it would cry for an
hour at a time; then, as if in great
anger at the unrelenting blast, it would
change its beseeching tone, and cry out,
angrily: Well, then. rage! well, then,
rage! Rage and blow! rage and blow!"
Then again, as if speaking to itself,
it would keep on repeating in a
low tone: I'm a'cold, I'm a'cold; am
old, am old; winter King, 0, winter
King! will sing, sing, sing" And so it
would scold, and fret, and grieve away
all winter long. Often, in the bitter
midnights 1 would waken suddenly,
only to hear the poor thing entreat-
ing and beseeching, and raving and
fretting.
After time, when the usual number
of months had elapsed, spring came on,
and then it seemed to grow more con-
tent. Sometimes it would rest all day !;
on rare occasions all night, but not
often, for it was the nature of the thing
to go around in its own limited circle.
1t was very busy windmill, and be-
lieved in making music while the wind
blew. Then, when the summer days
came again, and the grass fringed the
roadside and crept over the meadows,
and the young dandelions looked gladly
up to the blue skies, and the birds came
singing back to our homes, and the
young lambs were basking in the mel
low sunshine, and everything said in its
sweetest voice, at is summer it is sum-
mer," then some queer thought seized
the poor windmill, and it cried out, in
its strange, squeaking voice, for some
one who did not return with the sum-
mer. Over and over again it repeated
its gloomy cry, Charley Cook, Charley
Cook, C-A-a-r-Ee-y G. o-o-k," and so it
would go on, drawling out the name to
great length; then, in sudden pas
sion of grief, repeating ii over and
over, "Ch'ly Cook, Chilly Cook" as fast
as it was possible for it to speak, and
again blending the words with Darling,
dear, Charley dear" Then, after a pause,
1 would hear it signing out, "Gone
away, gone away, gone to-day, to-day"
and for hours it would not cease, but go
on with its wild lar,enting. I never
knew who the bewailed Charley was,
but suppose the wind must have borne
all sorts of strange tidings to my restless
friend, for it always seemed to be affect
ed by the wind, and ever after, until
1 looked for it and it was not, it ceased
not to mourn for lost Charley.
Well, 1t was long Time ago, and the
windmill belongs to the past; but some
times l seem to hear some of the old
dirge, sung plaintiveIy in the summer
nights when the wind is among the
trees, and sometimes l catch the wild
beseeching tones when the winter
storm is abroad, so fancy it is the voice
of the wind spirits talking together OF
fbair Loot friap1 look ont OF Al o,,cI
where it once stood; how we children
used to play out there! how the flowers
grew and blossomed in the hower-beds
just this side and right in the shadow
of the windmill! But they are gone
now, all gone; and the windmill is gone
and the children are gone, too. All
mel If to-day they were out there
they would not run and frolic, but wall
with quiet footsteps, and speak with th'
voices of men and women