Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-03-06
ON A GATE POST.
CHAPTER I.

CHATTER L.
Ambrose Nettleson has what he 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 me. AL
though / did not ask permission, yet ]
do not feel that violate his confidence
by giving,as nearly as can remember,
the contents of the paper which he
treasured with such affection:
The prospect was not cheerful. ]
was riding a horse across a country
whose loneliness 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 mocked What dreary,
dreary place it isr' l mused. II feel
as though something terrible is going
to happen. The air, just before the
great agitation which must come,
seems quivering in its desire to bear
the sound of murder, murder! As l
live. yonder is light. 1t is possible
that | shall receive shelter?"
Urging my horse forward, l soon
reached small house, near the sum-
nit of a desolate peak, overlooking the
Arkansaw river. | dismounted near
the door-thcre 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 a stable close at hand and
took off saddle and bride. As l was
returning, the storm burst upon the
river. When | approached the door, l
heard a wall. l knocked and l heard
the wall coming slowly toward me.
The door was opened by a 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 a few minutes 10 live. The
girl knelt beside the old man. He
tried to put his hand upon her head.
Failing. he looked at me and l 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
wing on her head was growing cold.
She looked at him and shrieked.
What night we spent in that house.
The storm howled and the rain fell un-
til nearly daylight. The girl. who I
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 had begun to talk, in
teaching her.
81 have no relatives" she said in an
swer to question.
ANY fricnds?'
mo friends"
You have neighbors?"
None. The nearest house is nearly
eight miles away"
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, l made a coffin of a
trough which | found in the stable.
After the burial, went out and found
enough corn for my horse. left Mu-
nette at the grave, on which she had,
sobbing bitterly, thrown herself
''Where are you going, little grip"
| asked when | returned, still finding
her on the grave.
How can l go anywhere?" she
asked. Il have no friends, told
you"
You cannot remain here"
Il cannot 90 away"
Il will not leave you here. You must
go with me. My mother has no little
gir.. She will receive YOU"
Still lying on the grave, and without
looNing up, she replied:
You will not have to work. When
tell my mother of the circumstances
under which 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
ler eyes wore look of such tender ap-
peal that even though she had relatives
would have thought it my duty to
take her home with me. She went into
he house and soon returned with a
small bundle
Il haven't much to take" she said.
Gran lpa and | we're very poor. and
you see. having inherited his poverty, |
am poorer than ever"
| was not surprised to hear her make |
'uch remark, for | had discovered |
hat she never associated with child
'en and was consequently wise of her
,ge.
You shall have some nice dresses |
sfter while" | replied.
Pretty red ones?'
TIE child was asserting itself.
Yes. and blue ones.
She wept anew as we mounted the |
lorse-she seated behind me. As long I