Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1880-10-06

Roor.
Mr.. Carmichael sat at his open window
with a cloud on his thoughtful brow and
a shotgun in his hand. He looked out
upon the landscape flooded with nocturn-
al beauty, bu, no peace came into his soul
or shone out of his face The silver orb
of night was sinking in a bank Of fieecy
clouds down to the west ard with the de-
liberation and resolution OF tired tramp
wrapping the drapery of the straw stack
abou, him. The pale light just kissed,
with It's uncertain beams, the roof of Car
michels woodshed, lingering in the
warped shingles with regrettul tender
ness, like a boy getting out of bed on a
winter morning. The South Hill naples,
filled with the intense shadow, outlined
the more sharply BY the waning moon,
rustled in ghoStly whispers as the winds
Of the night sighed through their leafy
canopies. The street car bells were still,
and the clay bank mule, the JOY and
pride of Eighth street, was dreaming the
happy hours away in the embedded straw
ness of his lonely stall Long hours ago
the lights had faded ou, of Donahue' 5
grocery, and the members Of the South
Hill club had gone home. The silent
stars looked down upon the slumbering
city, as if their impassive, eternal patience
might rebuke the gloom that clouded Mr..
Carmichels brow.
The eyes OF the citizen were sternly
bent upon the roof Of his woodshed. Fol-
lowing their direction, the curious OBJ
server nigh, have perceived in the falling
light shadowy figure stealthily measur-
ing the shingles. At length it paused,
and looking pensively at the inll orbed
moon, it sph, the silent night with a
moaning wall that slid along like the
chromatic scale on 50 violin, only
worse.
"Ma-ri-ah- -ah, "
And the echoing nocturne went sobbing
down the deserted street, across the soli-
,udes Of Stony Lonesome, startling the
mapled hills into 4 thousand echoes,
which went ripping up the avenue, past
the parsonage, across the classic campus
OF the Baptist college, and finally awaken
ing Artie McArthur's burro, which
shrieked back its alarm and discomfort in
terrific "he, hawT' that blighted all
the blossoms on the wiSteria and set halt
the telephone bells on West Hill TO ring
ing.
"lt's been that way all night" moaned
Mr.. Carmichel, turning his head and
speaking TO some unseen person within
the room.
Then why don't you shoot it and
come to bed" said sleepy voice in reply
land no, stand there all night making
spectacle of yourself at the window,
and catching your death Of cold :"
The intelligent reader has already per-
ceiyed, from the fact that the folly OF
making spectacle of himself was
placed before the imminent danger Of a
fatal cold, that the second speaker was no
other than Mrs. Carmichel,
Her remarks only served to deepen the
gloom Of Mr.. Carmichels brow. II he
did no, shoot the pIowler of the night
that had established its signal station on
his woodshed, he could not sleep. If he
fired his gun there was great danger that
he might awaken policeman, and feel
the wrath of that conservator of public
order, should he happen TO awaken in i'll
humor. a night policeman, Mr.. Car
michel was well aware, should be
awakened tenderly and with great
caution. \ policeman rudely startled
from his slun.ber at o'clock in the
morning by the detonation Of an untime-
" gun, has been known TO fall from the
salt barrel which he made his humble
but vigilant couch and scrape his shins
along the harsh and much abrading
hoops. And he meddles with firebrand
who tries to talk politics to a man who
has just scraped his shins.
The iacredulous reader may smile al
the idea Of man sleeping on salt bar
rel. Alas, the unbeliever then has never
seen night policemen on duty, with three
burglars getting in their work on the
same block. A salt barrel, well bestrid,
is comfortable couch, an ice cold stone
doorstep is bed of down, and a seven
foot skid is the lap of luxury.
But We digress.
And while we have digressed, the
clamorous echoes have died away and
once more ii. r H. Silence reigns. Mr.
Carmichel was on the point of turning
from the window, when there was another
revolution, and long before the smoke ol
the battle had cleared away, as it were,
Silence was dispossessed and Clamol
reigned as consul in her gentle noiseles:
stead. Once more the prowling figure
on the shed, lifted up its voice and sent
this down the echoing corridors Of time,
and so far as Mr.. Carmichel could ob.
serve, about fifty years into the dark and
silent boulevards of eternity.
Comm out. Comm -ow wow-wow.
out :"
The distracted citizen shuddered and q
frown of resolution settled on his face a.
he muttered: