Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1881-08-24
THE VILLAGE OAK.

Dunn't nobody tell me When the
Trevors coined to these pearts, sentries
ago, the Squoire-if they called then
squoires in them times-brought with
him fair young bride. So, when theel
son an heir was born, theer was foir
doin's, and the mother, in 'memoration
planted the acorn from which has coined
that oak. The rocks that cawed in the
elms then have died-the elms theer
selves has died-but theers the oak, hale
and hearty. The lightnin' struck it, the
wind blowed it yet theer it stands as
firm as ever, and while it do, the Trevors
Will be squoires st the Hall ~
The speaker was the old sexton. He
had Just closed the vault of the Trevors,
and, with spade and mattock on shoul.
der, stood among the graves in the
shadows of the ancient, square-turreted
church in which Squire Trevor had that
day been laid to rest.
THAT, my FRIEND, is, 1 suppose, the
superstition smiled the new vicar,
scanning the old church with the look OF
an antiquary.
Superstition Well, if the truth be
superstition, perhaps it is, sir.
cat any rate, the present Squire, they
say, is different enough from his uncle
a spendthrift, or worse"
'.Mabbe. The Trevors have all been
a bit wild at first but they settle down,
you see, sir-they settle down when
they marry. Squire Marm' duke will
marry and settle down. like the rest"
'It is to be hoped so, said the vicar,
kindly.
"At any rate, he'll marry; that You
may be sure, for he's the last Trevor, he
is, and the family's bound to live as long
as the village oak. Now, sir, I've
locked all up. p'r'aps 1 may go?"
Certainly, my friend. Good even
mgr
The sexton, his opinion of the new
vicar by no means raised by this con-
yersation, plodded his way to the ale
house.
The vicar, his head bowed, his hands
behind his back, went slowly through
the peaceful churchyard, crossed the
road, and entered the Vicarage garden.
The blinds that had been lowered out
of respect to the defunct Squire were
still down; but approaching the long
window, which was open, the vicar put
back the blinds, and stepped into a
charmingly cool room pleasant with the
odor of fresh rose leaves.
- The occupants of the apartment were
a pretty girl, with brown, soft eyes,
small, delicate features, and chestnut
hair, and young man, owning pleas
ant, manly countenance, and we'll
shaped, easy figure.
As the wears shadow had fallen on
the, blind, the young man had moved SO
far away from his fair companions work
table that, aided by the heightened
color of the lady's cheek, that action
was more suspicious than his close
proximity to the piece of furniture.
''Hullo. Ned found us out already p
said the vicar, with smile.
The fact is, sir" replied the young
man. returning the warm hand-pressure,
.your description of the old church, the
place and especially that village oak,
was too tempting for me to resist. 1
made leisure, packed up my knapsack,
and came down"
"Ahl 1 understand" remarked the
vicar, drily, and he did understand very
well. 1.-The attraction, no doubt. Is
great to an artist :" ''and his glance
wandered to his pretty daughter" 'tBy
the way, Jennie" he proceeded, 81
have contribution to your album of
Family Superstitions. That village
oak has one twined about its ancient
branches.
''Has it really, papa?" she smiled,
leaning upon his shoulder "What is
it?
Ned Graham also showed much inter
est. and the vicar told what the old SEX
ton had said
why" laughed the artist, ''there is
a capital subject for either picture or
poem"
''Then, suppose, papa, said Jennie,
eff one night the old oak on the green
were to blown down, there would be an
end of -"
ssMr. Trevor, sir - said the servant,
opening the door.
A merry glance passed between the
young people.
'.Exactlyl p smiled the vicar, as he
rose and went into the library, where
the new Squire awaited him.
The Squire was handsome man OF
about thirty, but with the expression OF
one whose time had never been well
employed. The eyes were bold and
dark, the mouth dogged more than
determined.
As the only heir to the late Squire,
who had died chldless widOwer,
Marmaduke Trevor had led wild, reck-
less London life, aware that his future
was assured.
The death of his uncle had suddenly
aroused him from an existence as idle as