The Washington critic., 1885-07-25
THE STORY OF THE MILL.

ell in hand and his sketch-book open be-
fore him, as he looked over the narrow
stream to the spot where it stood
'1t's deserted spot now," said voice
narrow footpath through the woods otis
deserted enough now but | remember
when it was full of hustle and life, and that
not SO many years ago as you might think,
either, SIR"
"Not many years." repeated the artist,
looking up. at does indeed look very
desolate."
"Well, not many years as look at it,"
answered the man, "but it might seem
long enough time to you. Eighteen years
off your head would leave you quite a
young STRIPPING, | take it,"
$50 it is eighteen years since the mill
was inhabited?" asked the artist again,
anxious to hear particulars.
"Nigh about eighteen years." replied
the man. "If you amt too busy now,"
with a glance at the sketch-book, 81
wouldn't mind telling you about it. Every
one knows the story in these parts, and
they do say as how the mill is haunted
but | never believed in that ! know how
such things get started the water running
under that wheel, in dark night, and the
wind whistling among these boards, sounds
dismal enough to any one going along this
lonely path, or the road over the other
side; and then, when you remember what
happened, it does seem kind of awesome"
81 see" answered the young man. NOV
f ing along the log to make room for his
companion. at is dreary enough in day
time, and it would be unbearable at night.
But YOU were going to tell me what hap
{ pened."
"Well, then, to begin at the beginning"
said the man, laying down his ak and
taking the offered seat, 81 must tell you
that that little house over yonder behind
! that clump ofunderbrush, at the other side
! of the mill-you can't see it from here but
i you must have passed it this morning
u that little house was where they lived, the
u miller and his wife.
II "lie bought it when they were married
{ for he had some money on hand which
. had been left him by his father. AnC
!, . then, when they got married. they put
:, their earnings together, for she was
II thrifty girl and had store of her own
= and they furnished it Just as nice as coulC
= = be. There was nothing great or grand il
y it, of course, but everything was so COZ,
4 and homelike; and there was never kin.
~ more proud of his palace than poor Dav,
", was of his snug little cottage.
y "When he went home at night ther
!, le was Rosy always ready to meet him at tn,
~ gate, and then they would look over tn
Il. of hn, fac
they were growing; for Dave took grea
stock in his posy beds, and often worke'
at them evenings, wedding and fxin
d. as two children, was Rosy and Dave.
e. "Well, things went on in this way 70
in over year, and every one was settin
ne great store by Dave; but all at once hi
ne old habits began to crop out again. III
a had been a trife wild before he got t
IL keeping company with Rosy, but ever
one thought she would make ne,
man of him, and for while she die
IN But Just about this time some of his oil
companions came back to the village
rs They had always had great iniluenc
I'll over him and it soon began to show itse
he again. They would go down to the mi
o, to meet him late in the afternoon, an
ne sometimes he would stop running littl
st earlier than usual to have talk wit
en- them. lie was a jolly, kind-hearted fello
lis and didn't realize the danger he was il
nd when they brought their bottles he ha
ly not strength enough to resist the temptG
tion or bear their ridicule. Then it bega
to be n common thing for Rosy to wait q
the gate long time, with her pretty blu
eyes fixed on the road where he woul
ed come in sight. Sometimes a neighbo
10 would happen along instead, and sh
: would turn at the first glimpse and ru
,o into the house-it hurt her to let any on
m mbe see that her Dave was not doing Just righ
~ or that she was uneasy about him.
"By and by the roses began to fade fror
u her cheek, and she was more like lii
IL than the Rosy we used to know, but sll
never complained and when any on
re would try to put in word of sympath
ng she would actually try to make out that sl
didn't know what they meant. She couldn
H. bear to own that her husband did anythin
al wrong.
"Well, time went on, and things kel
10 going from bad to worse. Dave was losin
y, his trade, for he was getting to be so III
an steady that no one could depend on hin
:" When the farmers took in their grist to |
~. ground they never knew when it would
ro ready for them to bring home again. Da,
,as was careless, and he was growing surl
too. So there came long afternoons whe
=, the mill stood idle, and the mile lay down
III some quiet corner, more than half stupetie
ire with drink Poor Rosy used to come aft,
ry him sometimes and try to get him hom
but it wasn't much use; she often &
ufi nothing but harsh words and orders
ell leave him alone. She was Il broken-heartl
Sc woman, and that was plain to everybody.
iii, SAT last there came spring mornir
he something like this remember il we
The trees were Just a-budding out, and ii
in little twigs down by the waters edge we
th a-puttng out their leaves. | had ju
vas come down the road past the cottage, Al
1t noticed that nothing had been done
a the posy beds this year; | didn't suppo
either of them had the courage. Then
an walked slowly down this way to the mi
nf | wondered when | heard the hea'
st wheels going, for Dave hadn't work,
I Of much of late. Then | stepped in, b
rn there was no grist being ground, and
s or knew something must be wrong. My lie
,bo shook under me as | walked round 4
Wv outside, toward the big wheel, and then
can hardly think of it yet, sir, it was
esS dreadful right ON the ground by the b
arr wheel law moor Dave viii bis beod crnsh
pe and bleeding and when touched hin
ieu ieu found he was dead. | don't know how
ltil gave the alarm, but did, some way; a
'ses Sye fxed him mn no we'll ns we couId befc
'se we carried him home to poor Rosy,
'ey "She didn't scream or moan, but sank
a dead faint, and lay like marble till
a Il. Il. 4