The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1883-08-29
4 LUCKY MISTAKE.


"Tom,' said my father to me, one
cold November afternoon, as We stood in
the tlog-pucd hail of our old,fshioncd
farmhouse, "youI better put the little
bay marc i'll Che dog-cmt and 90 into
Worhiugton for that saddle. | clean
forgot to call for it yesterday, and if you
want to 80 ont with the hounds ON
saturday, you wouthaye another chance
Of getting it,"
j was nothing 10th 10 act upon the
parental suggestion, although it meant u
long drive in the biting cold, and al
though the return journey would have
been done in the dmk or with very in
linrraNt moonlight. We wnrN utterly
isolated at the MistIc,o' Farm; for we
were seven miles from Wuvhiugton, our
nearest town, and ten miles in the OPP
postc direction. from the nearest rail
way station. The little haY mare that |
was going 10 drive WAS a Young one of
our own breeding, clover MS cat and
iocile as dor. From her infancy she
was my ployfollow; would come to me
when | whistlcd TO her, eat out Of my
hand OF my pocket and when the time
came for backing her and breaking her,
there was nothing to be done. She had
had perfect confidence and trust nus all,
and especially in me; the cat by the fire
side could not De more gGytle CT more
easy TO control.
She was world too good for harness,
| Thought to myself, MS led her out of
the stables and proceeded to put her to
the old fashioned, square dog cart,
which turned up behind, and looked like
A mail cart-baning the color, which
was It dingy gray The little mare was
nv hunter Whom my hounds were within
reach and my father would let me go;
and she carried mo rs gamoly, even after
twenty miless Of harness the day before,
as if she was one of the S4uirc's cracks
and went out only once u week,
As we troltad quietly down the drive,
my father put his head over the hedge
and called to me:
"Maybe the saddle won't be finished"
he said. his red face glowing with the
cold, his eyes glncing critically ut the
mare. "Ii so, you can put up at the
Augc, and have your tea; but don't he
later than you can help. Have you got
your watch on you?"
eyes" | said. wondering at the qucs.
ton.
"You'd better give it to me-" said my
father, stretching his arm over the
hedge. 81 heard yesterday, at the or
binary, there WIS u gentleman stopped
ON Monday night on the road. You
haven't got too much money on You, |
,upposo?'
ono danger" said I, with laugh, as
| put my watch and chain into my
fathers big, brown hand. "I'hey won't
get much ont of me if they try it on.
And off we went, turned into the high
road, aud sped at quick trot through
the gathering twilight in the direction
Of Worthington.
1t was dark when we reached the out
skirts of the little town, and the lights,
not very brilliant if tried by modern
standards, spariIcd chcerrully enough in
The windows. Past the blacksmith's
forge, with the great bellows roaring and
the sparks flying from the glowing GIN
lcrs; past the butchers with goodiy
display of some our best beef; past the
groccr'a, where the hali-doAcn children
who were hattemng their noses against
the paucs turned 10 look at us; and so,
Gathering over the uneven cobbles ofthe
pavement, to the saddlcr's shop. The
proprietor himself, staid and portly
person, conscious of the importance
which attaches to his position in coun-
try town, came out and nodded greet
| ing.
"A cold night, Mr.. Tom" said he,
with SILVER, aus the wind took his
apron. "I'm not quite ready for you.
Your father didn't come i'll yesterday. so
I though you wouldn't want the saddle
till next week.
81 want it for Saturday." said /,
leaning sideways out of the trap. "The
hounds are at the coppice, and the little
mare and are going. Can you do 1t II
Iput up?'
The saddler thought for a moment
cay, can do that, " he said at length.
"Will You call in between eight and
! niue and it shall be ready for you"