Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1882-01-04

Mr., Potter entered mo iamilia
conversation with Rob-rather to tha
youths surprIse-spoke OF the weather
the hard times, inquired, with an air o
interest, how tho "widder" got along
casually alluded to the depreciation o
real estate IN the vicinity, and then, u,
though tho idea had just occurred tC
him, remarked, IN q very indifferent
sort Of ways
"S'posc your ma would sell tho ter
acre swamp lot At pooty low ilgger
wouldn't slic, Robi"
"why, yes" said Rob, laughing
~ suppose Mother would be glad tC
give It away, though should advise
her not to sell it just now."
For Il flashed across his mind that
Mr.. Potter was, for some reason, anx'
ious to buy the swamp lot.
"Maybc he's discovered gold mine
there" he thought, with n half laugh,
"lt amt wuth-wa-al, il ain't rccly
wuth n dollar an acre" remarked Mr.,
Potter, Tipping the ashes from the end
of his cigar; "but seems it's your ma,
| would not mind given hcr-wa-al,
say twenty-five dollars fur clean title
to jest the swamp-lot."
"No, | suppose you wouldn'f' was
Rob's placid answer; ''but guess We
won't sell just now, Mr.. Potter" and
Rob hurried off to do his crrands,
with his mind full ofbcwidcrcd conjcc-
lures.
Twenty-Five dollars for "a quaking
bog where even alders wouldn't
grow! What could it mean! for the
quickwittcd boy saw that it meant
something Of course.
"Think ye're sharp, don't ye:'
the discomiortcd Mr.. Potter,
angrily, as he looked after the departed
bow. "Guess I'll see what the widdcr
has to say about it," and lighting a
fresh cigar, the speculator took his way
in the opposite direction.
"Somcthing's up, sure, thought Rob
to himself, as he hurried home an hour
or two later, "and | think when I tell
mother of Pottcr's offer I'll advise her
to hold on to the swamp-lot, till | can
find out what has made such n sudden
rise in this kind of real estate"
"What do you think, Robby, dear?
was his mothers delighted exclamation,
as he edtcred the old-tashioned kitchen,
"Pve sold the swamp-lot to Arad
Potter for fifteen dollars Was there
ever such piece of luck?'
l know boys-they call themselves
young men-who would have stormet
and scol'led in a very unpleasant
manner under similar circumstances
but l am glad to say that Rob Barrett
respected his mother too much to dc
such thing. And knowing 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 nothing, only
that he was glad she had got the money
it would buy her new winter shaw
and the subject was dropped.
About fortnight before cold wealth
er set in, Mr.. Potter had strong dam
built across the outlet of the swamp,
which itself lay in sort of basin few
feet lower than the surrounding pasture
land.
His evident purpose was to overflow
it, but what this was done for, did moi
at first appear. But when the ''boom''
in ice began, and the papers were full
of accounts of almost fabulou. prices
paid for "ice privileges" W ich lay con-
venient for shipping, whether they were
mill-ponds or fresh-water marshes, the
object of Mr.. Pottcr's dam was OBJ
vious.
He purposed to overflow the swamp
and make a ten-acre pond. From the
pond thus formed to the wharf below it
was, perhaps, two hundred yards, and
a descending grade all the way, so that
by means Of Il cheap briege or "shute, "
the ice could be sent sliding on its
slippery way till it reached the very
verge of the wharf, there to be taken
on board vessels waiting to receive it.
A day or two after the dam was
built, Rob, with bitterness of heart,
started up to see what was going on
there. Mr.. Potter happened to be 60
ing the same way.
"You mustn't mind my gettin' leetle
the best end of that air little trade,
Rob, Mr.. Potter smilingly remarked,
him familiarly on the shoul-
der. "A feller don't have chance to
make n clean five thousand dollars