The Penn's Grove record., 1885-05-02
AUNT MARTaA's CLOCK

'sYou know, my dear Herbert, " said
nv aunt Martha, that in the precari-
Gus state of my health, with my life
hanging as it were, upon a thread, 1t
behOves me to see that all my affairs are
in order.n
s'Certainly," 1 responded, with duti-
full but difficult gravity.
NY aunt was only a little past middle
age, weighed eleven stone two, had a
color like a peony, and a waist Which
measured twenty-eigEt iGches-was, III
truth, in fun health and vigor, and
likely to live to a ripe old age; so that
her fayorite fiction that she was the VIC
tim of a hopeless and mysterious NAL
adv, and might at any moment shuttle
off this mortal coil, was without the
slightest foundation in fact. Never
theless she derived much enjoyment
from the illusion, and delighted in the
contemplation of her own premature
decease, and in p~erpetually going over
all the details of her interment and
other cheerful accessories of the supreme
event.
She was a dear old soul, and / wa
indebted to her for much of the happi-
ness of my childhood and the easy en-
joyment of my youth. | owed her both
affection and duty, and paid them heart
lily; but | must confess | found 1t diff
cult to respond becomingly to the con-
stantly recurring claims on my sympa-
thy with reference to this death bed
bogy of hers. The perpetual cry of
"Wolfl" had hardened me, | suppose.
''These anniversaries are solemn
things - my aunt observed, shaking her
head and signing profoundly. Il can
not disguise from myself, Herbert, that
1 shall in all probability never see an
other birthday. Before the second of
March comes round again l shall most
likely be Wondering in the silent
tomb"
''Whirr-r r-gurr-r-r-boOm-boom
-bangl" sounded from the dim corner
Immediately behind my seat.
''Good heavensl" l exclaimed spring
ing to MY feet, and turning round so as
to face the enemy. "What on earth
was that? Something exploded"
My aunt sat still, perfectly unmoved
and placid.
"That, my dear boy" she explained,
sis your grandfather's clock"
"a clockp' l echoed. ''Is that all?
/ thought it was an Internal machine.
What, IN the name of all that's diabol-
ical, is the matter with the thingp"
1.-THE chime is out of ORDER" aunt
Martha replied. 1.-THE clockmaker says
it is worn out; but it used to have the
sweetest, clearest tone. | remember it
when | was a child"
Its a hideous discord nowi" l Ie-
marked, with some aninlus, for | was a
good deal rufiled at having made such a
donkey of myself in my first alarm
81 am very fond of the old clock"
said my aunt ~plaintively, SIT Is asso-
ciated with the happiest days of my
life, and its chime-altered as it is
brings back my dear fathers voice. He
was a martinez with regard to punetu-
ality, and that dear old clock kept time
for the whole house. 1t has always
since been in my bedroom. L liked to
see it the first thing when l awoke in
the morning; but l had it moved down
here last week. It-it"-reluctantly-
''disturbed me a little in the night. l
don't sleep so well as / used, | find-an-
and 1 thought it better to move the
clock"
Il don't wonder-the brutel" l NUT
tered resentfully.
81 have felt the change" continued
my aunt sat my age one feels every
thing. But l am trying to wean my.
self from earthly things, Herbert, and.
as l said just now, | am anxious to see
that all my affairs are in order and pre-
pared for what may come at any no.
ment. have done my best, l think"
-modestly-''to save everybody trou-
Bile, and have explained my wishes as
clearly as l can, both in writing and
verbally
"Yes; you have nothing to reproach
yourself with on that score," acqui-
esced, with yelled irony.
at will be for you, Herbert, TO see
that they are carried out faithfully, "
concluded my aunt, complacently ac-
cepting my remark,
"You may trust me, aunt Martha, T"
I replied.
"Yes, my dear boy, | know / can.
You ere ny heir, OF course, Herbert as
1 have often told you. Everything is
left to you, excepting the legacies to the
servants, poor things, and a provision
for my niece, Phyllis Mortimer, my
poor sisters only child. 1 have never
seen her; her father quarrelled with me
after poor Annie's death, and then he
died, and the girl grew up amongst her
own relatives on the other side of the
water. Queer sort of people they must
be, i fancy, or they wouldn't live at
sach a place as Calais. They evidently
shared Philip Mortimer's prejudice
against me, ard of course / could not
force myself upon the child after her
fathers death; if We had been recon
ciled before that, it would have been
different. However, Phyllis Is my own
sisters child, the only one left of our
family excepting yourself, and | have
thought it right to remember the rela-
tlonship and to treat her as my niece in
my will. have left her one hundred
and fifty pounds a year,
Il am very glad to hear it, aunt Mar
tina" | said heartily.
"Yes, my dear boy; knew you would
approve" my aunt rejoined. "And
now there is only n thing unsettled,
and that is-the clock. | am afraid"-
looking anxIously at me-''you would
not care 10 have it, although, with a
tender glance at the abominable instru-