The Londonderry sifter. (South Londonderry, Vt.) 1883-19??, 1888-12-20

MOANING On HIS RUDE COUCH.
Come, come, Weaver, this is no way
to do. We are here in the friendliest
spirit, and are sincerely anxious to have
you taken care of. You are sick man.
You ought not to be alone as you are"
well, what do you propose to do with
me?"
"Why, why-take you where you will
be properly cared for, of course"
answered Justice McCracken.
"Now, that is kind, admit said the
hermit, and he looked at them with a
strange, amused expression in his eyes
Believing that they were gaining ground,
they grew holder.
eyes, we wish to be kind We can't
let you perish up hers, you know"
swell, where do you propose to take
me?"
Hem, HIM; why, you see, Weaver
you see Hillsford has no hospital
and"-
..But you have fixed upon some place
for me, presume" questioned the her.
init, in the tone of one about to sur
render.
Eyes," spoke up another. eve
thought we would take you to Johns
town"
"Ah, that's the county seat, isn't it?'
"Yes."
"And the county house is near there,
isn't it,"
eyes"
"Well, that's a good enough place for
any one who wants to 60 there. don't.
Now it is time for you to leave" and he
shut the window.
The besiegers conferred together and
again began to beat upon the door. Feel
ing more courageous when Viewers
wild eyes were not on them they called
to him that he must consent to go with
them, or they would take him by force.
The window opened once more and re-
vealed the gaunt form Of the hermit
grasping shotgun. Instinctiveiy the
attacking party fell back a few PAGES.
The hermit spoke: II will blow the
head off any man who again lays hand
upon my door. am in my own house,
! on my own ground, and there is not law
enough in the republic to permit you to
enter and lay hand on a man who is
neither criminal nor pauper. Had you
come here proffering private charity
should have resented it, but l should
have respected you. As it is | will kill
you like dogs if you trouble me mo-
ment more" And he pointed the gun
at them in way that was convincing.
Grumblingly they moved away. Hes
right" said the justice, who had NOR
tai fear of firearms; ''hes not a pauper.
He owns this ground and he owns the
house. If he won't come with us vii.
lingly we shall have to let him alone. y
Hes as crazy as a kite" piped up two
| or three others, anxious to cover up their
chagrin.
HE ought to be confined as danger
ous lunatic, said the doctor, in whose
bosom still ranked Viewers poisoned
| arrow.
They reached Hillsford in a crestfallen
frame of mind. all agreeing that the her
init might die dozen times over before
| they would put themselves out" to dc
anything for him again.
Two weeks later, when the weather
was bitter cold, Robby Hart, a sturdy
12-year-old, rushed into his mothers
sitting room one afternoon, bursting
with news. "Old Weaver's in town." he
! painted.
His mother looked up from her sewing
/ machine with interest. Like everybody
else in Hillsford she knew the history of
the fruitless siege of the hermit's cabin.
Eyes, he's here; awful sick, too: out
of his head, and is lying on the floor in
the back part of Hunts grocery. They're
goin' to send him to the poorhouse at
Johnstown."
mot in this terrible weather." said
I Mrs. Hart, looking alarmed
{ "Yes; right off. There's no place here
for him. they say"