Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1881-09-27
THE PIECE THAT WAS LOST.


in the back porch after milking. polish
ing his face with coarse towel and not
ing the weather signs between the rub:
A capital hay-day; but "spell of wea
,her" might be expected soon; for di
not the almanac say, About this tim
look out for storms::" So all hands wer
warned to be in readiness to NOW tn
lower intervale in the morning and los
no time in getting at it, for the interval'
was swampy after rain.
The chores were done, the supper eaten
Silas. with his chair tilted against the wall
was sleeping the sleep of the just, while
his good wife pattered about the kitcher
setting the sponge, beating up some 'ri'
griddle cakes" for breakfast, grinding tbt
coffee, and, in dozen provident ways
squeezing out of the tired day little help
for the morrow. Reuben went TO the
store for a new scyihe snath; Abner, the
hired man, hung over the gate with the
beloved pipe that tried the housewife
soul and pretty Mistress Hetty wrinkled
her forehead and pricked her fingers over
the new dress she was trying to make in
the few leisure minutes snatched from
housework. She mhde charming pic
ture in the frame of the vine -wreathed
window, her sleeves still rolled above her
plump elbows, her bright hair drawn
back from the rosy face, which was
turned full to the lamp as she threaded
her needle, or paused 10 tiirt some poor
deluded moth from the dangerous flame
that fascinated him. A charming pic
ture. but no one TO look at it; for the
great Norway pine held up a screen OF
solid blackness between the window and
the road, even if any belated traveller had
chanced to pass that way, and only Het-
ty's white cat crept stealthily along the
top of the garden-fence with murderous
designs upon an un,imely brood OF chip
ping birds in the currant bushes. Only
this-ah. beware, Mistress Heity. Evil
eyes are looking at you eyes from which
even a heather mother would cover your
face with her hands, and breathe a prayer
to break the unholy spell they might cast
upon you-a woman's eyes pesring from
the thick Jungle of lilacs aud syringas, so
near it seems as If Hetty mus, feel them.
Blu, Het,y feels nothing, sees nothing,
! but the troublesome dress and as the
perplexing ruiiies are conquered one by
one, Der hear, grows light, the little
frown smoothes away, and He;ty begins
10 sing. What sweet voice she has
|, reaches the tired mother, and lightens
her hear, too. 1t wakens her father, and
then lulls him pleasantly 20 sleep again.
Now Abner hears il and draws his hick-
ory shirt-Slecve across his eyes; and that
watcher in the green tangle-who can
guess what she thinks or feels, as she
sinks down with her chin upon her hands,
and her face quite in the dark, and list
ems to the pathetic story OF the Ninety
and Nine = ie,ty herself is no, halt
conscious of the pathos with which she
bewails the lost one,
AWAY on the mogntains bleak end bare,
| Away from the tender Shepherds care,
and goes on through the tender story to
the final rejoicing when the Shepherd
brings back his own. She is still hum.
ming it iitfully over and over, when her
mother opens the door of the keeping
room and bids her 60 TO bed, and not
ruin her eyes with sewing by lamp-lisht.
"Jus, a minute says lie,ty; ''as soon
as finish this sleeve And the mo
ments glide on and on, the sleeve is tin-
ished, held up and admired, and Mistress
Het,y takes on her shoes and slips softly
up- stairs 10 bed. She does not even close
the window. What should come into
the hsusa unbidden. save the cat and the
cool night airi Everything is silent
The mother tird broods her little one,
securely. unconscious Of the cruel eyes
near by. until Reuben comes whl',iing
along the road. and. boy like, stops te
shy a stone at the tempting white marx
on the garden fence; the prowleT leap
away with long bounds over tie we
grass. and & tragedy is averted with moth
ing to show for it bot dirty tracks upoi
a piece of factory spread out to bleach
By and by there is little stir in the llla'
Jungle: woman comes cautiously ou
OF her hiding, and steals away to tn
barn. The cows are lying here and ther'
under the long shed, sleeping, perhaps
in a cows uneasy fashion, but with
certain air of motasrliness and conten
about them. They do not even wonde
at the late conner ID she threads her way
among them, enters the barn, mount
the scaffold already well filled with tn
sweet hay, and is soon asleep, hearinl
now and then broken twitter from tn
restless swallows under the caves, or per
chance a faint sweet voice singing, witt
lingering pity in its tone,
"siek, and wounded, and ready to die"
Who can tell when the summer da
beeinss One instant dusky silence
cool, moist, and fragrant, hanging owe
the hills, the next burst Of song fron
some tree-top, caught up from hundre'
green coverts, swelled and repeated an
prolonged in a mad chorus that present.
settles again into silence. Then the slo'
/. stir of life awakening. the hustle anon
:. the poultry. the lowing of some impatien
cow, or the steady sound Of her compan
! ions nipping the short, juicy grass, tn
; unwilling creak of rheumatic pump
9 handle, and here and there the dull thu
| of an improvident axe preparing the kind
. . lings for the kitchen fire.