Waterbury evening Democrat., 1888-07-16
THE DEFENSE.

Nehemiah Strong, a jealous and faithful Quaker, was smitten with the western fever" some years since, and finally removed to the regions where "squatter sovereignty"' was being experimented upon. But squatter or any other sovereignty troubled Nehemiah but little. He was & man true to his creed, and wherever his lot might be cast, there would he live in peace and quiet with his fellow men. The proper location was soon found, and when Nehemiah had made a clearing and built log house, he was mon- arch of all that he surveyed and staked. But Strong was not allowed long to remain ill peaceable possession. Bolder and more evil men lived in these western regions than he had ever before met, and in the absence of any very positive or very available law, they did not hesitate to take the management of affairs into their own hands 4 few reckless men could thus, by combining for common purpose, rule a great number of more timid or more respectable people, driving them | from their houses, or dealing with them as they would,
 Strong, notwithstanding his blameless life and gentle religion, did not long escape these vultures of the west His shome attracted the 
 who determined to possess it, inasmuch as it would be easier than building a house for himself, or perhaps driving away a more de- | termined man. Besides, the honest Quaker | had not forgotten wheat, potatoes, corn and | other provisions for comfortable winter, which season was now approaching, though still quite distant.
 Accordingly, one day, Bob Bellows. armed | to the teeth and looking especially ferocious, rode up to the cabin and inquired for the owner. The Quaker chanced to be inside at the moment and quietly answered the sum- mons
 "Does thee wish to see mel" he asked, gag ing upon the intruder with some degree of | alarm, notwithstanding his peaceful nature.
 Wal. yes," growled the ruffian. "1 | thought I'd ride over and see what in the old boy you'd gone and set your house on my land for! That's all I waCted ter sec ye ferl"
 'Thee is mistaken" returned Nehemiah. ''This land belongs solely to me, one Nehe- mah Strong, thy humble servant"
 "You hel" was the rejoinder; 'this is my land, and now, as yer shanty is stuck on here jest in the place whar was gon' to put my own, I'll be easy with yer, and say noth- in about the law if you'll just get out of here and be beyond sight and hearin' to-morrer morning What dye say to thatf"
 "Verily, believe thee villain!" returned Nehemiah finding that he was not to be i'm mediately eaten up or run through. ''This is my home, and the home of my family; yet thee seek to turn me from it, and leave my self and family to starve. Nay, l cannot , constrain myself to depart thus. Thee has , no right nor title here to my knowledge. If thee has produce it and will depart freely" Look ye, you old robberT missed the des- perado, "I hev a claim here I sarvayed this land near ten years ago and made my , marks If you have cut them down, it'll be all the wuss for ye. I've plenty of witnesses who know about it, and I needn't tell thee , 'tis bad scrape tew be guilty of cuttin' away yer neighbors' landmarks. Now, I shall be here tomorrow mornin', and if ye know when yer we'll off, you'd better not be here at the same time"
 With this unmistakable threat the outlaw turned and rode away, leaving the Quaker c in no enviable frame of mind. r We may have stated before, although 1t may be quite as we'll to say here, that Strong's family consisted of his wife and two daughters, with son, Mark, about 13 years of age. The daughters, hearty, buxom girls c of 9 and 20 years each, named respectively q Ruth and Naomi, were full of natural life and decision, quite unlike what the daugh- ters of meek Quaker would naturally be come
 They, with the mother, a middle aged gen tlewoman who strove hard to live as peace able as the tenets of her faith required, gath cred about the husband and father. The latter sank upon chair, seeming quite dis couraged and disheartened by the event whict IT had just occurred.
 "Verily, know not what course to pur
 sue,n he mourned. "I can't afford to leave
 this house and the growing crops smiling
 upon us with promise of sustenance for tn r. winter fear this villain is a rascal of utte e dye, who will not hesitate at bloodshed. 'i may be we'll to go, yet l must remain for W time"
 An anxious night was passe1, and yer. y early the next morning all hands were astir is The sisters had been engaged in consultation l. during the night, and when they descende. is from the loft Ruth drew her father aside.
 "What wilt thou do, father, in case thos
 bad men come!' she asked.
 "Verily, I know not" he replied; '1 hay
 studied upon the matter all night, but m 1t mind is far from fixed. If they insist upo It, suppose we shall be obliged to flee; ou t. religion doth not allow us to fight with cal y nal weapons"
 ''Let us manage that, father" the girl 1T
 sisted Truly, we cannot fight, for we hay no worldly weapons. but much think If "
 are not sadly mistaken we can induce thes
 outlaws to go their own way"
 "I pray that thou mayst, my daughter
 the father returned, though know not ho'
 women can persuade such fearful beings"
 But thou wilt leave the matter to Naou
 and myself, if they comeF'
 "Yes, daughter" |" was the reluctant assen ''thee can have thy way; but pray thee \ nothing rashly."
 Tho maiden went her way well satisfied
 and in a short time had a vigorous kett
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