Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1885-04-02
ON A GATE POST.
CHAPTER 1.

Ambrose Nettleson has what he thinks
is valuable manuscript He thinks so,
doubtless, because it records part of
his life. One night recently. while
was at his house, he brought out the
manuscript and read it to me. AL
though / did not ask permission, vet
do not feel that violate his confidence
by giving, as nearly as l can remember,
the contents of the paper which he
treasured with such affection:
The prospect was not cheerful. /
was riding horse across country
whose loneliness was as deep as a sigh
which bespeaks the long absence OF
some one. Night was coming on and
a storm was gathering its forces. A
frightened owl fitted past me. scream
ing in my face. The time of year was
when nature hesitates whether to con-
tinue winter or begin spring. My
horse almost shook me off when he
stopped and shivered. The owl scream
ed in my face again. Dead leaves, for
moment would whirl before me, and
then fall, scattered and torn as though
they had, by an angry hand, been
swept from their long. damp rest, only
to be Knocked sWhat dreary,
dreary place it is!' / unused. 81 feel
as though something terrible is going
to happen. The air, just before the
great agitation which must come,
seems quivering in its desire to bear
the sound of murder, murderl As
live, yonder is light. 1t is possible
that | shall receive shelter?n
Urging my horse forward, / soon
reached small house, near the sum-
NIT of desolate peak, overlooking the
Arkansaw river. | dismounted near
the door-there was no fence around
the house. My horse looked appeal
ingly at me and without asking per-
mission from any one within, | led the
animal to a stable close at hand and
took off saddle and bride. As / was
returning. the storm burst upon the
river. When | approached the door,
heard Il wall. knocked and / heard
the wall coming slowly toward me.
The door was opened by a girl scarcely
more than twelve years old. Her face
was the picture of despair. She said
nothing. but pointed to bed, upon
which lay an old man, gasping for
breath. Approaching him, saw that
he had but few minutes to live. The
girl knelt beside the old man. He
tried to put his hand upon her head.
Failing, he looked at me and | assisted
him. He tried to speak, but could
not. The girl sobbed frantically. The
rain poured down and the storm shook
the house.
'He will never get wellr' she cried.
my grandpa will die
Yes, her grandpa would die. His life
had already passed away. The hand
lying on her head was growing cold.
She looked at him and shrieked.
What night we spent in that house.
The storm howled and the rain fell un-
til nearly daylight. The girl, who
saw was intelligent, with an impressive
face, said that her name was Munette
Loggemon, and that since her earliest
recollection she had lived with the old
man who had spent the most of his
time, since She had begun to talk, in
teaching her.
81 have no relatives" she said in an
swer to question.
''Any friends?"
mo friends
''You, have neighborsp'' y
None. The nearest house is nearly
eight miles away
| knew not what to do. Surely the
situation was serious, Early at morn
ing, we buried the old man In the ward.
As best | could, made coffin of a
trough which | found in the stable.
After the burial, went out and found
enough corn for my horse. left Mu-
nette at the grave, on which she had,
sobbing bitterly, thrown herself.
'Where are you going, little grip"
| asked when ! returned, still finding
her on the grave.
''How can | go anywherean she
asked. II have no friends, l told
you.
You cannot remain here.
II cannot go away"
Il will not leave you here. You must
60 with me. My mother has no little
girl. She will receive YOU"
Still lying on the grave, and without
looking up, she replied:
Il will go and work for my board"
You will not have to work. When
| tell my mother of the circumstances
under which | found you, she will take
you in her arms. Come, get your
clothes. 1t is time we were leaving
here. See, the sun Is shining beauti-
fully. II is new day for you.
Without replying, she arose and
turned toward me. Her face, even
aside from her grief, was so sad, and
her eyes wore a look of such tender APP
peal that even though she had relatives
l would have thought it my duty to
take her home with me. She went into
the house and soon returned with q
small bundle.
81 haven't much to take" she said.
Grandpa and l were very poor, and
you see, having inherited his poverty,
| am poorer than ever"
was not surprised to hear her make
such remark, for / had discovered
that she never associated with child.
rem and was consequently wise of her
age.
You shall haye SOME nice dresses
after WHILE" | replied.
pretty red ones?"
The child was asserting itself.
Eyes, and blue ones. /"
She wept anew as we mounted the
horse-she seated behind me- As long
rs we were within sight of the house
she said nothing, but when we had de-
scended into the thick woods, she
said
II won't cry any more, if 1 can help
it,"
Your grandfather must have been
good to you?"
''1es, but he made me read many
books that were very dull--great law
books. | don't like them. His eyes
for many years have been so bad that
had to do all his reading for him. He
wrote book full of curious things and
murders, but one day when he found
me reading it, he took it away from me
and burned it up. 1t must have been
bad and he must have been sorry that
he wrote it. What is your namepn
told her. and expressed my surprise
that she had not sooner asked me-
III was your place to tell me without
my asking, she said. when | told
You my name, you should have told me
yours. Don't you see?'
acknowledged the justice of her re-
buke.
The day passed rather pleasantly,
with the exception of the influence OF
the night before, which naturally
onn1.rh cha ocs1ld NOT diopaf o,.I ,rl,rf.