Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1884-09-24


for the poor beggar to do. But to think
of your spunking up to Bob Carter at
ter that fashion, I'd ha' given my best
cow to see it. A little white bantam
pecking mad bull would be nothing
to it. And he run off. Welt Well!
Here, Charlie, show Joe the room over
the barn. He can sleep there, and he'll
soon learn where to come to meals"
So the idiot found his hard bed on
the floor replaced by the cosy barn
chamber; his scanty food exchanged for
generous plenty; and for blows, kicks
and curses, hard work and -tasking
his brain, he had kindly words and light
labor suited to his comprehension.
And under this treatment he bright
ened visibly, performing his simple
task willingly and well.
When winter came, Susy herself al
tered suit and overcoat of her fathers
to clothe the boy comfortably for the
cold weather, and knit him scarf, cap
and mittens. She never passed him
without word of encouragement and
kindness, and in his darkened mind the
fair, sweet face stood for religion,
something to be worshipped, poor Joe's
special providence.
He never forgot the falling of the cruel
lash upon her slender figure bent to
protect him, and he understood perfect
ly that Susy's intercession had procured
for him his happy. comfortable home.
And his gratitude expressed itself in
such offerings as were within his reach
bouquets of wild flowers, clusters of
delicate ferns he knew she loved, bas-
kets of wild cherries or nuts, and an
eager offer to lift any obstacle from her
path. And the good-natured, testing
country folks called poor Joe Susy's ad-
mirer.
But while winter SHOWS were yet
upon the ground there came to Brent
Hill a new clergyman, one Cyrus Port
man, who had been pupil of Susy's
father when he was youth of nineteen,
she child of twelve. Having fitted
himself for college under the Rev
Stephen Coyle's instructions he had
gone to Harvard, had studied for the
pulpit, and, having preached in Boston,
had accepted call to Brent Hill.
1t was quite natural that he should
seek Susy, and the old servant at the
parsonage was warm In her praises.
He was wealthy man, having inherit
ed fortune from his father, and he was
eager to help the poor of the parish.
Susy, having the children under her
control, was able to point out to him
many avenues for his charity, and thus
added another link to the associations
that bound them together.
He was a grave, studious man, refined
In caste, and of quiet manner, and he
shrank little from the noisy demon
STATIONS of the country people around
him. 1t rested him, after round of
calls or the services of the Sabbath, to
talk with Susy, to hear her low, sweet
voice, and see her quiet, refined move
ments. He heard of the gentle charities
she performed whenever he was in the
cottages of the very poor, and memory
told him what a little household fairy
she had been, even when a child.
So In the winter evenings, in the
spring walks, he let his heart go out to
Susy, and gather her image into it's
deepest recesses, while she, unconscious
of her own secret, felt that there was no
happiness so profound as Cyrus brought
by his mere presence. It was quiet,
uneventful counting for six long months,
but it bound two hearts firmly together
for life. And Joe, looking on, under
stood vaguely that Susy was happy when
Cyrus was near, that service performed
for Cyrus pleased Susy as well. And as
events progressed he understood that
Cyrus would one day take Susy to the
parsonage as his wife, and that Susy
would be happy there. All this was
firmly rooted in poor Joe's clouded
brain, and ne knew that trouble to
Cyrus would be sore grief also to Susy.
So, with an allegiance that was touch
ing, Joe transferred some of his devo-
ton to the young clergyman, and when
he was at the farm would mutter often:
"Susy likes him, Joe must be good to
him, because Susy likes him."
He was grateful for the kindly words
of Cyrus, his many gifts of clothing and
money; but the great claim that he held
over Joe was the fact that to please him
was to give Susy pleasure.
Summer sunshine was ripening the
grain, and the berries were in ripest
O1uooOAo, WAOA OuSy uuu I'LL 0uIlT0 uOuGQ
OF leisure for the school holiday, and
Cyrus won from her promise to re-
sign her place and be his wife in Septem-
Der. Her simple outfit became her
daily task, and the Collingwoods lent
willing hands to prepare for the we'd
ding. Joe was made entirely happy by
a promise of home at the parsonage,
and the long summer days seemed too
short for the happiness that filed them.
/ 1t was nearly two miles from the par
sonage to the Collingwood farm, but
there were few evenings when CYRUS
failed to walk from his house to usy's
for an hour or two of the sweet compan-
ionship he loved. And his way led him
through a lonely stretch of country.
where the farms are scattered far apart.
for Mr.. Collingwood had bought farm
at some distance from the village.
By what instinct Joe knew that there
might be danger lurking in the road I
cannot explain, but it became his habit.
solely of his own will to follow Cyrus
Portman out of sight himself, till he saw
L.