The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1880-07-01

Losing the Fire.
A traveller as he journeys eastward
from New York, via the Sound boats and
the New London Northern division OF
the great Central Vermont railroad,
after whirling through the busy and
picturesque manufacturing Connecticut
villages, and entering Western Massa-
chusctts, may see on his left about
mile below the Amherst station, and the
same distance from College Hill, an old,
shabby brown house, standing back
from the highway, surrounded by smooth
green fields and shaded by immense elm
trees.
Here, within the memory of some Of
the more elderly people of the neighbor-
hood, lived Granny Pom'ry," as she
was called, an intelligent old lady and
devoted Christian, who was fond of talk
ing about the early colonial days when
there were only two houses in Amherst,
and one each in the adjoining towns OF
Hadley and Belchertown.
will give one OF her stories just as 1T
was told me by lady who had it from
"Granny Pom'ry" herself, and which
has never before been in print.
"There were plenty OF wolves all
about here when | was a child. They
were always hanging about the clearings,
and watching for stray pig, or lamb, OF
chicken.
Gone summer day mother saw one
thrust its sharp nose through the half
open doorway Of our log house and look
hungrily at the cradle where the baby
lay sleeping Mother didn't scream,
for she did not wish to waken the baby,
but she seized brand from the fire
which was blazing under the dinner-pot
in the open chimney, and, whirling it i'll
her hand, ran after the ugly brute as he
made good his escape to the swamp.
"In the summer evenings we could
hear the wolves howling all about us
on the hills and plains to the north, west,
and south, and in the swamps to the
east. We children were never allowed
to play out of doors after sundown with
ont first taking the precautlon to build II
fire to keep the wolves away.
at was great fun for us to heap the
brush, which father wanted to have out
of the way, upon the huge fire, and to
see the flames and the sparks and the
smoke go gyrating up to the very zenith,
almost putting out the eyes of the stars,
as we Thought, while the fierce light il
Illuminated the whole of our clearing.
"Did a wolf show himself in the Vi
cinity, he was presently detected by
more than one pair of childish eyes
Mother would then drop her knitting,
and, seizing n tirebrand, give chase to
the cowardly sneak until he had hidden
away in the dim weird shadows of the
forest.
Gone summerthe wolves had increased
to such an extent that we children did
not dare to venture into the swamp for
berries, nor, as the autumn came on, to
search in the woods for nuts, and our
winter supply threatened to be alarm
ingly small
Gone frosty morning, after breakfast,
father said to us he would finish digging
the potatoes that day, and the boys
might go down to the EBAY Path, and
get Enoch Thayer's boys to go with
them wolf-hunting. The day promised
to be fine one, although, as the boys
started off, mother told them that the
sun, which had risen clear, Immediately
hid himself behind a cloud.
During the forenoon father came in
saying there was n storm brewing, and
mother and the girls must go out and
help him pick up the potatoes. They
went at once, leaving me to keep house,
and charging me to take good care OF the
baby, to keep the samp boiling, and stir
it often so that it would not burn on the
bottom of the kettle.
81 atten, carefully and assidu-
ously to til, ,y that when the little
fellow fell asleep | fell asleep also, and
when, at noon, my father and mother
and sisters came in from the potato field,
cold and tired and hungry, anticipating
delicious dinner of hot samp and milk,
they found the lower part of their pud-
ding burnt and the top of it uncooked,
and the fire out.
cit was before the days Of friction
matches, and it was a serious matter tc
lose the fire. Mother knelt on the
cheerless hearth and carefully stirred
the embers, while my sisters blew and
blew the sides OF every bit of charcoal
and blackened brand, but not the faint
est spark remained; the fire was dead
Father and mother looked at each
other anxiously. The boys had taken
our three guns with them, so we had no
flints with which to strike fire. Father
spent little time rubbing two dry
pieces of stick together, but it was no
go; he could get no fire. Finally he
said, patiently: There is no other way
but for me to go the three miles and a
half to Mr.. Thayer's. The boys may
not get home tonight, and we may suf-
fer from cold and hunger before they
come
"We watched our cheerful, stalwart,
planter father stride off down the narrow
forest path. armed with large. SHARP
hatchet and n stout stick. Keep the
door and windows closed and the chill
dren inside, mother, he called back
from the shadow of the woods, for you
have no fire with which to scare away
the wolves nor any guns to shoot them.
"The rain began to fall soon after he
left, and it was cold, dark, gloomy
afternoon. Every sound made by the
wind and every shadow cast by the toss