Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-10-28

giving eve; and witfa igh of regret
Ffor those vanished ysars. he knocked
tn. ashes from his Fpe. and turning
back iato the cottaa busted himself
in preparing his evening tneal-for
Peter Fare lived alois. unless faith
fnl dog canse calleda companion.
All the day Pete Ftne had been
oppressed with th,t reculiar intuition
which every one sess Seipetimes dur.
ing his life. that slaae, one. he knew
not whom. was abolt arrive. This
feeling had hauntst feisr Fame; il
had brousht zhi= sse sissn once 90
the door, and now, as be sat BY the
fireside, with his dog mried up at his
feet, it continued to hant him. Yet
his reason told him tht his expecta-
tion was only idle folly, for who was
there in the wide weld who would
care to seek the old miller out, now
that wife, children ah friends were
dead?
He sat by the fir, smoking and
thinking, until bed ime came and
then he carefully laid his pipe upon
the shelf, and going ore more to the
door opened it and looked out. The
clouds covered the whole of the sky
and the snowhakes were falling thick
and fast, and all the earth was hid
beneath their heecy crystals. Though
the moon and the stars were hidden
there was Jet dim light in the air
that indistinctIy and vaguely dis
closed the dark outlines of the mill
near by, and the bridge farther off,
and the bare branches of the trees
overhead; but of human life there was
no sign. Peter Fame looked carefully
about him, then shut and fastened the
door, piled the ashes over the glowing
brands upon the hearth that there
might be live Goals 10 light his fire
the next morning and went to bed.
He slept. then suddenly awoke, for
something had reused him from slum-
Der. He raised himself up and lis
tened, not sure whether the sound he
had seemed to hear was real or only
some echo !. ws! Of me nepaEy in his brain
for now as he sat up in bed he 'ihfesru
the vibration of the gong ringing vet,
faint and indistiIct, but still percep-
tible through the silence. Surely it
must have been the striking Of the
clock which had reused him; and yet
it had seemed like a sound more
strange and unfamiliar. But while
he listened the sound was repeated
it was a tapping on the door-and,
hastily rising from bed, Peter Fame
drew on his clothes and went to the
door and opened it.
There was no fear in his mind that
the nocturnal visitor might be bent
on some evil errand, nor any thought
that the occurrence was unusual; ii
seemed to him perfectly rational
event, just as one dreaming passes
through curious scenes without won
derng at their oddity.
Peter Fame, therefore, opened the
door without the least sentiment of
fear or surprise and saw, in the snow
by the door step, man upon horse
back.
Good day to you, miller" said the
stranger. Can you grind me this
sack of corn?" and as he spoke he
pointed to bag that was slung across
the horses crupper.
AIS du Ouu tune 10 set tue LuIiI
asoing," answered Peter Fame. Gould
you not have come earlier? I have
been expecting you all day"
II have had long road to travel,
the stranger replied. ''for there are
few mills nowadays where a simple
man like me can have his grain ground;
and this sack must be turned into
meal before the morrows dawn.
Well, then" said Peter Fame, put
up your horse in the shed by the mill,
and come in and warm yourself. All
these long years no man could ever
say that I refused to grind his gris',
nor shall they say it now" And
while the stranger drove his horse
into the shed as he was bidden, Peter
Fame rekindled his fire anu lighted
his lamp, and, as the light illuminated
the room, he glanced at the clock and
saw that its hands pointed to 6ve
minutes after midnight.
1T is a snowy night" said the
stranger, as he entered, and, standing
by the FIRE, shook upon the hearth the
snow from his garments. 1T l. d
snowy night, a night when the wind
is cold, and one when such a fire. a;
this is very welcome.
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