San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1882-01-05
IN THE LIGHTHOUSE.
A New Years Story.

A New Years Story.
It was the last day in the old year,
and vet it did not seem much like win.
ter, though the maple trees were bare
and the flowers all dead. The oaks
were covered thickly with leaves. True,
when the wind blew it rustled through
brown, dry foliage very different to the
living tints of months back; but when
you looked at the soft, muddy roads, or
the clear blue sky, you scarcely real
lied that it was just past Christmas.
John Hudson, keeper of the light
house at Fishing Point, was brushing
his weather-beaten coat (once black /;
now almost "sage-grecnO and giving
parting directions to John Hudson,
Junior-called sack" by his familiars.
"Now mind and don't set the house on
fire while am gone. I must fix that
chimney when L get back, or we'll be
burnt out yet; and don't take to fooling
with the oil-there isn't very much of
it left now. There's that cord of wood
in the yard; guess you had better fill
the wood boxes, and pick up bit. I
expect the inspector will be round be-
fore long, and we want to have every
thing taut and trim when he comes.
Get your dinner when you're ready; l
may be back in time. and may not,
with all these errands to do in the vii.
lage; but anyway, 1 shall be home this
afternoon. Good.by, sonny" and he
tramped briskly away through the
trees.
"Stub! Stub! here, sir. You must
stay home with me. Father don't want
you. There's a rat, sure's I live! Sick
it, Stub! S-s-s-sick It'll"
"Now," said Jack, after an exciting
chase, in which boy and dog had howled
and bark most powerful duet, nov
Stub, we'll wash the breakfast dishes
won't we?"
Stub looked a knowing assent, and
sat gravely on chair (Which he first
knocked the cat off, while Jack wash
ed and dried the few dishes as deity
as girl. He had lived here as long
as he could remember. His earliest
recollection was looking at the bright
reflector upstairs, and seeing in it g
sweet, loving face, with tender blue
eyes, near his own. His next memory
of the face was in a coffin, pale and
still, while his father held his hand, and
the minister from the village talked in
low sad tone. But this was years ago
when Jack was Gas he would inform
YOU "only little fellow" Now, from
his dignitied age of ten years, he fell
himself almost arrived at mans estate
His father was formerly sailor, but in
consequence of losing some of his fin
gers in the icy regions of the North, he
had had to accept the position of light
house keeper-loving the sea too vel
to think of any work further inland
Such stories as he used to tell Jack in
the winter days, when they would be
cut off by snowdrifts from the rest Of
the world. Such thrilling adventures
as delighted the boys ears in the long
solitary evenings. Stories of the time
Oh Labrador, when tremendous whale
capsized boats crew, and two men go
drowned; of the mutiny that once broke
out on the Fair Betsy, and the sneak
ing italian who got put in irons fol
starting it.
ooSh hOulu ~ " UCu Will u OICCpJ
kind of feeling after these stories, but
the morning light always drove away
the shadows, and he would vow to him
self never to let such ridiculous stories
brighten him again. STUB. let's play
Robinson Crusoe in the yard, now tho
dishes are all washed; Jane Ito the cat)
you can come, too. if you want" said
Jack, opening the door. Stub accepted
the invitation for himself and Jane by
making a dart at her as she lay blinking
near the stove, and rushing her out OF
doors with scant ceremony.
This shed here shall be the cave, and
I'll wear fathers fur cap and be Robin.
son Crusoe. You can be Friday, Stub
You are black, and you don't know
much; and Jane shall sit up here on the
woodpile and be the parrot. Now
Friday, you just stay there while l 60
to get some sticks for the wood-boX;
and Jack, making his work into play
worked with a will, while the waves
romped and tossed about on the shore
Ike merry children, and little gray
cloud, no bigger than a mans hand