Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1882-08-10
MISS MATILDA JANE AND TIL
MINISTER.

Bramleigh is a sleepy-looking town
The VILLAGE street is draped with drow
sily-drooping elms. The sea is just fa1
enough away to whisper as sleepily a.
the wind in the leaves. Few people are
abroad in daytime. The birds alight anc
sing on the messy town-pump. The
church, which is so white that it make:
one wink to gaze upon it, sits in the
midst of an ancient burying ground
and calls the people of Sunday morn
ing with the sleepiest bell possible
Daisies and buttercups nod in the path
which leads to the door of the town.
hall, and an adventurous tramp of q
clematis creeps out of neighborine
meadow and looks in at the windows,
trailing its white blossoms over the
sill. The green blinds of the ancient
white houses are all closed along the
street, and in the tall grass which fills
the shaded front yards grow n few
sleepy-looking flowers, such as lilies OF
the valley. gray and crimson peoples,
sold maids pinks.'' and great clumps
of silvery-green ''life forever"
When the clock strikes nine the whole
world prepares for bed, and if light is
seen glimmering from one of the win
vows ibT ulOTc Lilstu Hall oil HOuE dllct
that time it is safe to conclude that
either some one is ill in the house or
some one has beau in an advanced
stage of courtship. Still, a long sojourn
in Bramleigh teaches one that it is
never by any means as sleepy as it
seems,-that every shut-up, drowsy-
looking old building has wide-awake
eyes and ears on every side, and that
even the Iank-haired, drawing juvenile
is on the alert for happening.
My landlady, Mrs. Bragdon, lives a
mile away from the village, but nearly
every whisper which is breathed there
finds it's way to the farm,-the thrilling
news that Mis- Peter Talpey is going to
have her sitting groom newly papered,
that the minister bought his new coat
up to Boston, that John Snow went
home with Lucy White from the last
evening meeting, land the still more thrill
inc news that Mis- Oliver Norton and Mis-
Lemuel Stacy have fallen out and do
not speak to each other. Mrs. Bragdon
declares that she shall not sleep wink
until she hears whether they are pleased
again or not. Asshe expresses it, s'She
does like to have something going on"
And when last fall all her summer
boarders had taken flight with the ex-
ception of myself, the cows had all been
sold but two, and the light harvest was
being gathered in with the assistance of
but two hired men, she declared that
she had too much spare time and was
blue as whetstun-that the village was
duller than nothin' at all; she was never
so put to it for news in her life.
I" Spare time hain't what ais me, :"
prnmbled Alfonso, the tow headed son
of theahouse. 81 kent git minute ter
set in the store; that's why you don't
hear no news.o .-..-
Seats foot! you don't git no news
when You do 20 to the corner evenin's.
You don't setin the store, noway. You
Jest dangle round Cyrus Parker's gate,
to see if you kent git a glimpse of Mi
randy. But, Lor'! if you ken find out
about enythfng that's a-goin' on in the
world, you might ez we'll 60 down along
ter-night. There'n be pumpkins to cut
eyenin's by m by, m there won't be no
gittin' off then"
So, making himself very brilliant as
to his feet and very much perfumed as
to his head, Alfonso sets off down the
road as soon as his evening chores are
accomplished. The light of his lantern
flashes from between the branches of
the trees, and we hear him singing in
yerv joll y and confident strain, as he
disappears round the corner, "HeU
carry you through
"Weu, L dunno as shell be kerried
through eff that boy don't bring no word
of enybody or enything," says his
mother, seating herself by the fire with
her knitting work.
There, is frosty Jingle in the air, and
the scarlet glow of the open fire is ex-
ceedingly grateful to the senses. The
hired girl ard the hired man are court
mo in the kitchen. Pussy-cat washes
her face on the hearth-rug. The crick-
ats are piping pensively under the floor.
am absorbed in the fortunes OF Cap
tain Fracasse-just the witching, Won
Serful sort OF story to read by the fire.
liobt of along evening land Mrs. Brag-
don. whosHkes company, looks misera-
BILE to the last degree.
I look up, and, catching a glimpse OF
ber woe begone face, am touched with
,,eal ,,ity. / know with what delight
nav fiji her soul if / choose to reveal a
.acyet which l have piously concealed
s;nce nv first years sojourn in Bran
is;ob-ap deleetable tale, which, Tor