The Portland daily press., 1888-01-02
INTHE LIGHT HOUSE,
A New Years Story.
NEW England Farmer.l

New England Farmer]
II was the last day in the old year, and yet
II did not seem much like winter, though the
maple trees were bare, and the flowers all
dead. The oaks were covered thickly with
leaves. True, when the wind blew it rustled
through brown, dry foliage, very different to
the living tints Of months back; but when
you looked at the soft, muddy roads, or the
clear blue sky, you scarcely realized that IL
was just past Christmas
John Hudson, keeper of the lighthouse at
Fishing Point, was brushing his weather.
beaten coat (once black; now almost sage
green'') and giving parting directions to John
Hudson, Jr., called "Jack" by his familiars.
eNow mind and don't set the house on fire
while am gone. must fix that chimney
when get back, or Wen be burnt out yet !;
and don't take to fooling with the oil-there
isn't very much of it left now. There's that
cord of wood in the yard; guess you had
better fill the wood boxes and pick up bit.
expect the Inspector will be round before
long, and we want to have everything taut
and trim when he comes. Get your dinner
when you're ready; / may be back in time,
and may not, with all these errands to do
In the village; but, anyhow, shall be at
home this afternoon. Good bye, sonny"
and he trampcd briskly away through the
trees.
"Stubl Subj here sir You must stay at
home with me. Father don't want you.
There's rat, sure's l live! Sick it, Subj
S-s-s-sick itp'
After an exciting chase, in which boy and
dog had howled and barked most powerful
duet Jack said
NOW, Stub, Wen wash the breakfast
dishes-won't we?"
Stub looked knowing assent, and sat very
gravely on a chair, after he had knocked the
cat off from it, while Jack washed and dried
the few dishes as deity as a girl. He had
lived here as long as he could remember. His
earliest recollection was looking at the bright
refectors upstairs, and seeing in it a sweet,
loving face, with tender blue eyes, near his
own. His next memory OF the face was in
coffin, pale and still, while his father held
his hand, and the minister from the village
talked in low, sad tone.
But this was years ago. when Jack, (as he
would inform you,) was "only little fell
low" Now, from his dignifed age of ten
years, he felt himself quite arrived at mans
estate.
His father was formerly a sailor, but in
consequence of losing one Of his fingers in
the icy regions of the north, he had to accept
the position of lighthouse keeper-loving the
sea too well to think for moment of any
work further inland. Such stories as he
used to tell Jack in the winter days, when
they would be cut off by snowdrifts from the
rest Of the world. Such thrilling adventures
delighted the boys ears In the long, solitary
evenings. Stories of the time on Labrador,
when tremendous whale capslzed boats
crew, and two men got drowned; Of the mu-
tiny that once broke out on the Fair Betsey,
and the sneaking italian who got put in
irons for starting it.
Jack would go to bed with creepy" kind
of feeling after these stories, but the morn
ing light always drove away the shadows,
and he would VOW to himself never to let
such ridiculous stories brighten him again.
''Stub, let's play Robinson Crusoe in the
yard, now that the dishes are all washed.
Jane, Ito the cat ''you can come, too, If you
want to-" said Jack. opening the door.
Stub accepted the invitation for himself
and Jane, by making dart at her as she lay
blinking near the stove. and rushing her out
doors with scant ceremony.
"This shed here shall be the cave, and I'll
wear fathers cap and be Robinson Crusoe.
You can be Friday, Stub. You are black,
and you don't know much; and Jane shall
sit up here on the woodpile and be the par
rot. Now, Friday, you Just stay there while
l go to get some sticks for the wood-box."
And Jack, making his work into play,
worked with will. while the waves romped
and tossed about on the shore like merry
children, and little gray cloud, no bigger
than mans hand, rose slowly in the north,
and made another dash Of color in the bril-
liant sky.
'Why, 1 declare, if it amt a-going to
snow wish father would hurry up. How
quickly the clouds have come, and they look
heavy, too, as if they were just bursting
with the piles of snow flakes hid away in
them. Myl won't it be jolly coasting! 1t
hasn't been half a winter yet-no snow, ex-
cept little that melted right away, and none
of the ponds frozen over. guess had bet
ter see if my sled's all right"
And away Jack ran on this hollow pre-
thence-this delightful piece of self-delusion
about the condition of the "Artful Dodger."
For had he not examined it daily for the
past two months, and longed impatently for
a chance to use it?
"My! there's a snowflake, as sure's the
world! and there's another-and another
swarms of 'em" exclaimed happy Jack to
his small, but select audience Of Stub and
Jane. They were very amiable, and frisked
and gamboled with as good an appearance of
happy innocence as could be desired.
tits getting dark very quickly; not four
O'Clock yet. guess it's:...going to be pretty
big fall this time, and-whew! Stub, hear
the windp" Sounds squally, don't IT,"
Stub looked with an air of gravity through
the window and seemed to be of the opinion
that it certainly did appear threatening.
What keeps father so late, wonder? IL
1t keeps on getting dark as fast as this the
light win have to be fixed pretty soon"
Thick and fast fell the snowflakes, hurry
ing, scurrying down, as if in haste to see
which could first reach the earth. Every
now and then a Violent gust of wind would
come, that romped and rioted among the dry
leaves that still chung to some of the trees,
and near at hand the waves surged and
dashed. and tossed themselves on the shore
and against the rocks.
81 know the lamp ought to be lit I'd bet
ter go right away and do 1t" said Jack, adj
dressing his companions.
As they raised no objection, Jack started,
materials in hand, and they followed-to see,
no doubt, that everything was done fairly
and squarely. Up the stairs went the trio,
Stub ahead, snufing and peering into all the
dark corners, Jack with the lamp and oil in
his hand, following warily, and Jane, with
dignity suitable for lady of her years,
bringing up the real.
Jack knew how to work the light. He
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