The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1885-04-03
SELECT STORY.
ON A GATE POST.


Ambrose NettlesOn mas what ne
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 the.
Although did not ask permission,
yet [ do not feel that | violate his con.
tidence by giving as nearly as can
remember, the contents of the paper
which he treasured with such affec.
ton
The prospect was not cheerful |
was riding horse across country
whose lonliness 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
a 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. "What dreary, dreary
place it is I" l mused. Il feel as
though something terrible is going to
happen. The air, just before the great
| agitation which must come, seems quiv.
ering in its desire to bear the sound of
murder, murder As live yonder is
light. Is it possible that l shall receive
shelter ?"
Urging my horse forward, l 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 stable close at hand and
took off saddle and bride. As | was
returning, the storm burst upon the
river. When approached the door, |
heard a wall knocked and | heard
the wall coming slowly toward me. The
door vas opened by 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. Fail
ing, 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 well !" 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 shrek
ed.
What a night we spent in that
house. The storm howled and the rain
fell until nearly daylight. The girl,
whom | 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 begun to
talk, in teaching her.
81 have no relatives" she said in an.
swer to a question.
"Any friends p
"No friends"
"You have neighbors!"
"Noue. The nearest house is nearly
eight miles away"
l knew not what to do. Surely the
situation was serious. Early at morn
ing, we buried the old man in the yard.
AS best could, / made coffin of a
trough which | found in the stable.
After the burial, l went out and found
enough corn for my horse. left Nun
ette at the grave, on which she had,
sobbing bitterly, thrown herself.
"Where are you going, little girl T. l
asked when | returned, still fiuding her
on the grave.
"How can l go anywhere ?" she
asked. 81 have no friends, told
you"
"You cannot remain here
81 cannot 60 away
IL will not leave you here. You
must 60 with me. My mother has no
little girl. She will receive you"
Still lying Oil the grave, and without
looking up,she replied
II will go and work for my board"
"You will not have to work. When
| tell my mother of the circumstances
under which l 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. 1t is a 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 look of such tender
appeal that even though she had rela-
lives | would have thought it my duty
to take her home with me. She went
into the house and soon returned with
a small bundle.
81 haven't much to take" she said.
"Grandpa and l were very poor, and
you see, having inherited his property,
| am poorer than ever"
was not surprised to hear her make
such a remark, for | had discovered
that she never associated with children
aud was consequently wise of her age
"You shall have some nice dresses
after while replied.
"Pretty red ones T.
The child was asserting itself.
"Yes, and blue ones"
She wept anew as we mounted the
horse-she seated behind me. As long
as we were within sight of the house
she said nothing, but when we had
descended into the thick woods, she
said;
II won't cry anymore, if l can help
it,
"Your grandfather must have been
good to you7"
"Yes, 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