Daily Kennebec journal., 1882-11-15
Gales ano Skftftes.
AUNT DORCAs.
BY LIZZIE g. SHEPARD.
CONTINUED from Yesterday. }

There were II straight-backed chairs
arranged closely together around the walls
of this very small room, beside four rock
ing-chairs and two small chairs. Every
one of them was filled to overfowing with
wearing apparel and cooking utensils. save
the two small ones. which were religious
Iykept clear for Bartholomew and Belinda,
her cats.
The wall and ceiling were of deep.
dark brown. and glazed over like court
plaster. This could be accounted for from
the fact that the chimney had long since
ceased to draw so that the smoke had first
to come out into the room, afterward to
slowly fade away through the door or
around the loose castings OF the three small
windows which were never opened.
Aunt Dorcas seemed aiwas to be busy.
She had her own frewood to gather in the
surrounding woods, her meagre meals to
prepare, and then she knit stockings in
Vulnerable. To be sure, they were rather
shapeles affairs. and dropped stitches were
taken up in marvellous ways-but one
must be charitable.
One day, as she sat thus engaged before
her dull, cherries fire, knock was heard
at the door First poking the fire, she
ODeteu tht puL fioui uh-
der her hand, as she shaded her eyes from
the late afternoon snn. Before her, on the
flag outside stood an old man, weak and
tottering with age and disease, who, in a
shrill. trembling voice, inquired.
Can you give me food and shelter for
the night? can 90 no further. and it is
good two miles tO the village"
Yes" answered Aunt Dorcas in her
..[s l.
as I've got, an that amt much, to be
sure'
She closed the door after him, and led
the way to the fire. which she endeavored
to brighten by the use Of the poker.
sit down." said she, clearing one Of
the chairs for his accommodation. 'Tll
give ye cup o tea, an p'r'aps it'll chirk
ye up bit"
Taking the teapot from its habitual
resting place on the back of the stove, she
thrust it into the ashes on the hearth send
ing out shower of dust by so doing.
"IIave ye travelled far?" Aunt Dorcas
asked, stopping here to look up at her
guest. inquiringly.
From NJ" he answered. Its a
long walk for an old man. I'm eighty
four years DID, and he sighed deeply.
"Humph," calculated Aunt Dorcas,
"l'm eighty-two;" and after a pause. ad
ded, Here's your cup o tea ready" and
she handed him an old blue cup and sau-
Ger Of willow pattern. cnipped, stained
and cracked. out of which she might have
drank tea all her life. so old and quaint it
showed. From one of the chairs she took
ragged towel of questionable purity,
ont of which she unrolled small black
looking loaf of bread, and bugging it close
to her she cut few slices from it, and
gave them To- the old man, he eating slow
ly, yet with seeming relish.
This frugal repast finished, he dozed a
while, and was not disturbed by the rat
tling of the dishes, nor Aunt Dorcas's
movements about the room, When it had
grown dark and she had lighted candle.
he slowly aroused. the artificial light. al
though so dim. served to bring him back
to his surroundings.
Feel resied?" inquired Aunt Dorcas.
who was sitting in heap. making patch
work by the feeble rays of the tallow dip.
But before he could answer he dozed
again. this time muttering indistinctly.
Gradually his mutterings grew more in
telligible. and it was evident that the dy-
ing man was living over again his youth
days. He was before an open wood fire.
in wide. old fashioned kitchen the ket-
tie was singing merrily on the crane, and
Younger brothers and sisters were clus-
tered about HIM.
mot another story tonight he cried.
laughingly to the clamorons group sur
rounding him. We've had \ long day
of harvesting and I'm too tired for another
yarn"
Tell us about Dot" came mischiev-
ously from one little tow head.
Suddenly the picture faded from the
sick mans eyes, and all was black and
dark.
"Ycs. yes. Dot. little Dot" he whis-
pered slowly why were you false to
mep Was my love not good enough for
you?" and longingly he stretched out his
arms. which trembled and shook. and
finally dropped to his sides.
Aunt Dorcas had watched the stranger
narrowly during his unconscious mutter-
ings, and at the mention of the name
dot" she gave groan. and tottering to
his chair, she clutched his shoulders saw
agely. and cried hoarsely.
"Who are We? say. who are YEP"
The old man slowly opened his eyes.
and she repeated. IL say who are YEP"
Il was named Alvin-Alvin Rogers"
he answered. seeing strange tace bend
ing over. and realizing that a question
was demanded of him.
Alvin Rogers Oh. my God - groaned
Aunt Dorcas. sinking heavily upon her
knees; and catching him wildly by the
hand. she cried. "And don't you remem-
ber Dorcas Everett your "little Dot" as
you used to call her ?"
Poor soul, tor the time she had forgot
ten that her form was bowed. her hair
beached and her face shrunken; had for
gotten everything but that Alvin, the low
er of her youth. was with her once again.
And Alvin. his wandering mind return
ing. grew faint and blind. and gasped for
breath. Could it be that the flickering
spark of life would go out before the rec
ognition Could it be only death now. at
ter sixty years of silence and separation
No. no. God is good, and slowly. gradual.
ly the old man recovered himself, and
clasping the withered hand lying in his.
he murmured. dot, little Dot
He. too did not see the hand he was ca
ressing, dry and shriveled. but plump and
rosy. as in the days of yore; did not see
dull and sunken. the clear gray eyes he
used to know. nor hear. cracked and
husky. the bright, cherry voice of old.
20 Dot" he whispered. ''why did YOU
y