The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1888-03-07

green paint spattered all over his per-
son, until finally the saw-frame suited
him in its bright yellow coat The saw
jack he painted a lovely light green.
Daily he promenaded impatiently
around the sheds where the wood was
stored and grumbled because the fuel
lasted so unusually long. AT intervals
he added another coat of green paint
to the highly decorated sawing-jack
&" saw-buck it is called sometimes),
and babe all his acquaintances and
friends come and inspect his patent
caisthenic toys, until every one for
miles around became familiar with Mr..
Mouser's green sawing-iack.
AT last the longed-for day arrived.
A big load of fine hickory had been
piled up in close proximity to the tools
of defamation.
Mr.. Mouser was all excitement. He
passed by his amused wife with impor-
tant disdain, and scarcely gave himself
time to devour his dinner, he was so
eager to be at work.
Nothing more, thanks" he replied,
as his wife wished to replenish his cup.
Rising, he FASTENED to handle his pets
with an ardor that caused Lizbeth to
smile knowingly as she watched him
pick out the very smallest and most
slender cord-sticks.
That was a great mistake on Mr..
Mousers part. He should have tackled
the difficult ones first, on the simple but
fruitful theory that custom would have
sweetened his toll with the balm of
greater ease.
My! how the saw rented and the
abbreviated sticks tumbled to the
ground! Still Lizbeth, who was peep
ing with Understanding eyes, no.
ticed that at the third cord-stick work
seemed to slacken just little, but
seven were finished and Mr.. Mouser
came in, declaring he felt glorious.
The second day Mr.. Mouser remained
at table a trife longer. -Four cord
sticks in broken lengths licked the dust,
however.
Third day-Mr. Mouser took time to
glance over the daily news after dinner.
Record: Three cord-sticks.
Lizbeth, )" said he, 81 think I've
been cheated in the saw-jack. 1t is not
was led to believe. 1t wriggles."
Fourth day-Mr. Mouser toyed over
his dinner extensively. He smoked his
pipe and read the paper. He glanced
over his monthly magazine until dark,
and then started up, eXclaiming:
Mercy how short the days are!
Mrs. Mouser enjoyed the situation
intensely but said never word.
Fifth dav-Mr. Mouser rose with a
sense of injustice resting upon him.
All day he was haunted by the out
rageous fate that made him the owner
of a sawing-jack.
My dear, we require more wood
than usual to-day and tomorrow,
washing and ironing days, you know"
said Mrs. Mouser as soon as he got
home.
81 never saw anything like the way
you women manage to consume fuel! "
and Mr.. Mouser grabbed his hat and
strobe angrily toward the wood-pile.
A few sticks fell before the savage
manipulation of the saw, while Mr..
Mouser's snarling kept excellent time
to the wild motions of the sawyer.
With crash he sent the saw flying
over the woodpile. This was too much.
His wife was brute to expect him to
work like slave during the few mo-
ments he could call his own free from
business drudgery. But if he gave up
he would never hear the last of it. Oh,
if he could only get rid of that saw-iack.
A long time he pondered; at last a
smile of Joy illuminated his face. That
night, after his wife had retired, Mr..
Mouser slipped out and carried that
hnt cd oh To hn 70
Presto! in the morning the corpus de-
licti would be gone. The highway was
full of robbers, who would steal any
thing and everything,
He would make big fuss about the
loss, but take good care not to buy
second saw-jack.
He slept the sleep of the just until
about four O'Clock in the morning. 1t
was still dark, but his anxiety to assure
himself of the loss of his trouble caused
him to sneak out and reconnoitre. The
saw-jack was still there. Mr.. Mouser
whispered-no prayer. "Oh, well,
there is time enough still between this
hour and daylight for theft to be COM
mitted." he muttered. 1t was the voice
of Mrs. Mouser that awakened him in
time for breakfast. He glanced out OF
the window the first thing. Oh, how
brightly the sun shone, and that saw
jack cleaned up at him in all its ver-
dant beauty. No robber hand had car
ried it away. A fearful sigh escaped
the Mouser bosom.
"You must saw some wood for me
before you go, DEAR" said his wife.
What, more woodn'
" Yes, dear; recollect you only sawed
one stick last evening"" rejoined Mrs.
Mouser, meekly, but wicked CLEAN of
mischief played about her eyes and
mouth.
Mr.. Mouser ignored her reply, and
fastened to toy with his pretty tools
with vigor born of awful fury, but
way down in his soul voice groaned-
that sawing-jack must go
Where? whence? how?
Mr.. Mouser was man of resources.
Twelve O'Clock midnight. A burglarish
darkness and silence brooded around
as man stole hence from his couch,
and grabbing his trousers, left cosy
|