The Washington critic., 1885-08-27

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"No, | won't" said the deacon.
ooh, John, | have ruined you
said Meta, when he came back TO tell
the tale.
"Ruined me, puss?" said he, cheer.
fully, mot bit of H. You've been
the making of me. 1t amt good for
nobody to hang onto the coat-skirts of
a rich man. am more Independent
now than I've been for ten years. If
Mrs. Briggs will let us stay here for
few days"
81 couldn't possibly" said Mrs.
Briggs, freezing visibly. "If your
good, pious uncle dicsountenmccs you,
1t amt for me to set myself up Ng'in
his judgment"
Very WELL" said John; Farmer
Drake wants hand to clear up the
maple hills this wintcr-I'll engage
with him. My Meta shall have n good
home somewhere"
When Mrs. Briggs heard that John
Perkins had rented the little one -storicd
cabin by the railroad, and furnished it
for his bride, she shook her head fore
bodingly.
eff Meta can put up with hole like
that, she hahn no proper bride, said
she.
But Meta was as happy as lark.
ltwasan humble home, but it was her
own. And John came to IL every
night with face as cheerful as the
dawn.
81 wish il was palace, puss, for
your sake" said he.
II couldn't be happier, John, if it
was" Meta answered brightly.
"And you don't mind your cousin
passing you in the street without
speaking to your
mot in the least, If you don't mind
Deacon Perkins returning your letters
unopened.
"iIc's an ill-tcmpered old crab, - said
John, with Il hearty laugh.
"And She" merrily retorted Meta,
sis venomous old gossip"
While the public opinion of Yellow
Plains unanimously condemned Mr..
and Mrs. Perkins to the poorhousc in
the course of n brief time.
"lIe hasn't cent of capital said
one ncighbor.
And she amt no management and
never had" said another.
Buys bakers bread, and makes her
pie crust with butter instead of drip
pings" said Mrs. Briggs. Did any
one ever hear of such shiftlessness /,
for one, wash my hands of them,
Until, one day. Deacon Perkins died
sitting in his chair, with his speCtacles
on his nose.
"We'l 90 to the funeral, Meta" said
John to his wife. "Of course he has
left all his money to the Gattawoochc
Indian Mission, as he always said he
would, But he was my uncle after
all.
Very we'll - said Meta. 1--WE will
go"
All the ncighbors were there, of
course. The richest man in Yellow
Plains did not depart this life every
day. But everyone looked coldly upon
the Young couple MS they entered, and
Mrs. Briggs studiously avoided them.
When the burial services were over,
Mr.. Briggs sidled up to the lawyer.
"Its about the mortgage, Squire
Coytc," said he. That one Deacon
Perkins had on our farm. do hope
the Gattawoochc Indians won't be par
ticular about taking it up just yet be
cause times is hard, and | amt noways
prepared The interest is little bit
behind hand, to be sure, but"
"What have the Gattawoochc In
dams got to do about it, said the
Squire, crisply,
'"Why, they're the heirs, the folks
tell me, :" said Mr. Briggs, uneasily
twirling his thumbs.
Not at all, said Mr. Coytc. "The
| Gattawoochc Indian will Twas destroyed
years ago, and MI Perkins never made
| another. The heir to all the property
is the next of kin, his nephew, John
Pei kins. "
Everybody discovered all of a sud
den that they had always sympathized
with the dear young couple-that John
Perkins was n noble fellow and his
wife Meta one of the salts of the earth.
And Mrs. Briggs came humbly to
the red brick house on the hill TO sec
Meta and begged her to intcrccdc with
John in their behalf,
about the mortgage" said she,
THAT Deacon Perkins had on oul
farm. It's overdue, and Briggs hasn'
been as regular with the interest as
could have wished; but | do hope
Meta, John won't be hard with us, "
"Of course he will not be hard with
you, Cousin Briggs" she said loudly
Are we moi relations? And now you
must sit down and have cup OF tea
with us, and John will send the boN
wagon down for your husband to come
up and spend the evening"
The tears came into Mrs. Briggs
eyes. 81 do feel sort o faint sale
she. II never slept none last night
thinking what would become of us i
the old farm was took away. But I'm
all right now, Meta, thanks to you"
And she said when she got home t
her ilrcsidc;
"lf ever Goals of fire were hcaped OF
n human head, Meta Perkins hcapcD
EN- on mine this day
"Shc's good gal said F0rma
Briggs-"a good gal - Helen Fore,
Graves in the Lowell Courier
Drunkenness, or the Liquor Habit, Ca
he Cured by Administering Dr