Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1885-07-30

gular building Of one story, no accessory
of porch or veranda. The builder, as If
storm or rain came only from the east
so made the house that the slope of the
roof was all to the rising sun, while two
small windows in a high wall of board
ing looked westward for warmth and
light. A hemely dwelling in lonely
place; but the surrounding was impress
i've and almost grand.
On the block with Robins house, a
two-story dwelling and two cottages
stood. There arose above all barnlike
structure of masonry, the church OF
which Robin was sexton. 1t sat in the
corner diagonal from Robins, and
through long ranges of rusty blinds
above and below, looked grimly down
upon two streets. In the mind of the
sexton, it was venerable pile that dali
ly sdmonished of duty.
Next. going with the sun, the block
with the public buildings; much OF it
terrace, with trees, and grass, and high
stone wall. Farthest from Robin on
this block was the court house-lookiBg,
as did the church, upon two streets. In
q long, brick building of one story, front
ing with the court house, were the Off
ces of the clerk of the court, auditor
treasurer, recorder and sheriff; touching
the latter, and filling the space to an alley,
the sheriff s dwelling. Behind the
sheriff 3 house, and in Robins near vi
cinity. the Jail. Surmounting the court
boase was tall, tapering spire, which,
on bright mornings, rested its shadow
on Robins roof. Thus reminding him
that ne lived, so to speak, in the very
shadow of justice.
The next block contained a printing
office, shoe store, law Office, cabinet shop,
and hotel. The last, a pretentious brick
building of two stories, occupied also a
corner diagonal from Robin and looked
upon two streets. The hotel, too, had a
suggestion, for three times daily came
thence to Robin the sound Of a bel,
clamoring of plenty and good cheer
The remaining block had not building
upon il. Enclosed by a homely board
fence and shining always, except when
covered by snow, in carpet of verdant
grass, it disclosed stretch of undula-
ting fields and far away forest wall,
over which the descending sun looked
often in at the modest windows of Rob-
in's house.
Thus, beginning with the church and|
sweeping his hand around, could Robin
say: "This tells of duty to be rendered !;
this, of Justice and protection; this, of
plenty and good cheer. and this, the open,
verdant Iot-ab, welll-it duty rendered
goes unrequited; if justice fail; if there
be want instead of plenty, there still re-
main beyond the undulating fields and
forest wall where the smiling sun goes
down, peace and rest"
Growing old now, Robing was much
bent. And long time it was since theI
fisrt silver threads came in his hair. His
gait was shutting and uncertain; his
mind was absent,-at the church, per-
haps. a pair of old gray horses, worn
and feeble, like their master, we're his.
These, hooked to rickety wagon which,
he drove, hauled coal to whomsoeVer hisI
service were in demand.
He had seen the church rise stone byI
stone, and brick by brick, till it was
covered by the roof; and when it was
dedicated he efficiated as sexton. Long,
did he and Betty remember that dedica-
tion. Then he wore his wedding coat
a blue swallow tail of fine broad cloth,
with high, stiff collar and embossed
gilt buttons. True, many years had them
passed since he stood in that coat andI
pledged his troth to Betty, but, under
her care, no mildew or moth, no wan
dering speck of dust had dimmed itsI
luster before that dedication day.
Indispensable to Robin was Betty. SheI
was his wife, his friend, his guide in ALI
things. A few years younger, and still!
erect, she was blessed with good health.
and, so far as Robin knew, slwaysI
cheerful. A wealth of fiaxen hair sheI
cherished, though it was tinged With
gray. Three times each day she brush
ed and smoothed the black hair, lett
down and combed the side locks, andS
with two revolving fingers put them inI
shining rings against her temples andE
fastened them there with side combs.
How much less lonely would haves
been their lot, how much less of careE
for Betty, and of feeble struggling for
Robin against heavy odds, if they hadI
been blessed with children, must be LETT
to conjecture; for no boy or girl was ev-
er born to them. One summer day, I'M
time long past, there came to Betty fromI
girlhood companion letter with pit.
eous tale of welded happiness abruptlYE
broken; a widows poverty, and the near
approach of death. Would Betty" shes
pleaded, adopt her daughter, scarcely;
three years old, and trust a mother'si
prayers for blessing on Betty's home. z
A few weeks later the orphan child, al
pretty, fragile thing, with great blueE
eyes and curling tresses of golden hair,
was an inmate of Robins house.
A month passed by, and with it someE
bright days in which the Blossom, ,as Bet,
ty called the child, sat on Robins knee, /
and other days when her pale and vast
ed free rested much on Betty's bosom
A month had gone, so, too, had the Bios
som, which left to Betty a cherished
sorrow, and to Robin the name of father.s