The Republican journal., 1881-01-20
The Barrett Ice Privilege.

4 few years ago there were six in the
Barrett family; at the time when my
story begins, only Rob and his mother
were left.
The first Barrett came over in the May
flower, as second officer, and there had
been sailors among them ever since.
But Captain Barrett, Rob's father, was
lost in the great September gale, ''on
Georges" John, the oldest, was buried
off Cape Horn; Jim sailed from New
York as first mate of ship that was
never heard from, and Joe was lost over
board from the Polaris in the Arctic seas.
Rob, who was an active, good looking
scholarly boy of sixteen, had inherited
the same fondness for the sea peculiar to
the family.
"But the little mother won't hear to it.,
so | must stay as | am he would say,
with laugh.
For Rob had some old-fashoned ideas
of duty to his mother, not too often met
with among boys of the present day, and
he carried them out to the fullest extent.
They were quite poor in those days.
The captain had left nothing but the
small, one story house by the sea, and
thirty acres of worn-out land, slopng up
from the shore, in the midst of which was
''the ten-acre swamp-lot," as it was called
by the Covert people, though the boys
always spoke OF it as the ''quaking bog"
The surface was composed of moss and
matted grass, which sank down in very
unpleasant manner when one stepped his
weight on it. Sometimes a venturouS
boy p0ked his leg through this vegetable
covering, and went home with his trow-
sers in pretty state; for underneath was
ooze and soft, black mud which was pop
ularly believed to extend clear down to
the centre Of the earth.
The Swamp-lot was kept constantly
water-soaked by the springs and small
streams which flowed into it from the
ledgy hills above the house, and was re-
garded as absolutely worthless rather
an injury TO the little farm than other
wise.
They kept COW, a lew sheep and
some hens. Rob cultivated a small veg
etable garden, and, when he was not at
school, e ught hake from his dory. within
sight OF the little whitewashed house
this. Of course, in the summer time, when
the sea was toerably smooth.
For the dried hake sounds brought a
dollar pound at the store, while the fish
themselves, when properly cured, formed
with salt mackerel, no small part of the
winters provisions.
The widow Barrett was Il bright,
CHEEKY, little woman, simply content with
what God saw fit to make her lot. Her
greatest anxiety was for Rob, that he
"A a l,D,
a most excellent scholar considering his
Scanty advantages, and an omniyOrOus
reader Wlthal.
''Don't worry, little mother. Rob would
say-''the way will be opened somehow !"
for realizing, as he grew older. that he
could probably never CRAFTY his great
longing for sea life, he had made up his
mind that, for his mothers sake, he
would give it up entirely and turn his at
tention to something else.
Rob was on his way to the Covert post
office, on certain October morning when
he was overtaken by one Mr.. Arad Pot
ter, shrcwd and not over scrupulous
speculatOr, who had made money in va
riouS ways ever since he began trading
jack knives in his extreme youth.
very sharp man was Arad, not con-
tent, as his neighbors used to say, unless
he had both ends and the middle Of a
bargain. He wore his hat very much on
one side, sported Black Hill diamond
in a soled shirt front, and was seldom or
never seen without a cigar in his mouth.
Mr.. Potter entered into familiar CONVEX
sation with Rob-rather to that youth S
surprise-spoke of the weather, the hard
times, inquired, with an air Of interest,
how the "widder" got along, casually al
luded to the depreciation of real estate in
the vicinity, and then, as though the idea
had just occurred to him, remarked, in
a Very Indifferent sort Of way:
"S'pose your ma would sell the ten
acre swamp lot at pooty low tigger,
wouldn't she, Rob!"
"Why, yes said Rob, laughing. II
suppose Mother would be glad to give it
away, though should advise her not to
sell it just now
For it flashed across his mind that Nh
Potter was, for some reason, anxious to
buy the swamp lot.
"Maybe he's discovered gold mine
there" he thought, with a half laugh.
at amt wuth-wa-al, it amt reely
wuth dollar an acre." remarked Mr.. Pot
ter, Tipping the ashes from the end of his
cigar; ''but seems it's your ma, would
not mind givin' her-wa-al, say twenty
five dollars fur clean title to Jest the
swamp-lot.n
"No, | suppose you wouldn't,n was
Rob's placid answer; ''but | guess We
won't sell just now, MI. Potter" and Rob
hurried off to do his errands, with his
mind full Of bewildered conjectures.
twenty-five dollars for "a quaking
bog" where even alderS wouldn't grow !.
What could it mean for the quckwitted
boy saw that it meant something, of
course.
"Think ye're sharp, don't We Z" mutter-
ed the discounted Mr. Potter, angrly,
as he looked after the departing boy
Guess III see what the widder has to
say about it" and lighting a fresh cigar,
the speculator took his way in the oppo-
site direction
''Something's up, sure,' thought Rob
to himself, as he hurried home an hour
or two later, "and think when | tell
mother of Potters offer Iii advise her to
hold on to the swamp-lot, till can find
out what has made such sudden rise in
this kind of real estate
What do you think, Robbie, dear ?"
was his mothers delighted eXclam alton,
as he entered the old fashioned kitchen,
''lve sold the swamp-lot to Arad Potter
for fifteen dollars. Was there ever such
apiece of luck ?"
| know boys-they call themselves
young men-who would have stormed
and scolded in very unpleasant manner
under similar circumstances, but | am
glad to say that Rob Barrett respected
himself and respected his mother too
much to do such thing. And know
ing that she would feel badly if he told
her what had passed between himself
and Mr.. Potter and what his own ideas
were about the matter, he said moth
ing, only that he was glad she had got
the money-it would buy her new win
ter shawl-and the subject was dropped.