The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1889-11-28

inmates, over the little village near which
they lived and over the tavern where the
father lay, twenty miles away. But not
for long. The rising winds, which had
made themselves heard fitfully, now
grew furious. They reveied in the open
stretch of country around the Wilkins
farm, which stood on the edge of the
village, and chased each other across
meadows whose crusted snow cleaned
when the clouds were blown for a mo-
ment from the face of the moon. Soon
more flakes began to fall, and, what with
the wind and the smooth surface of the
snow already fallen, were blown and
whirled violently about until they threat
ened to hide some landmarks completely.
Mr.. Wilkins little house came in for
a share Of the drifts. 1t was low and
white and square. Like many houses in
rural New England, its rear door opened
into a shed, behind which were the barn
and outhouses, so that in case of storms
the live stock could be easily reached.
The snow played very queer pranks with
the house that night. 1t left the roof al
most bare, while it piled a drift in front
which hid all but one corner of the win
dow. 1t drifted against the barn door
and hid the shed completely. Fortunate
ly the well was under the shed roof and
the chicken house could be reached with
out going out.
When Mrs. wilkins awoke, her first
thought was of the night before and her
forebodings of storm. She tried to
look out, but the snow covered every
thing. Much frightened, she climbed to
the loft of the one story house. Looking
from the window, she perceived that not
a person could be seen. The roads were
piled with great white drifts, and the
only house in sight, also low one, was
partially covered. Over all the sun was
shining brightly. She saw at glance
that a sleigh could not get through the
roads on that day and possibly not on
the next. Then she went down and
awoke the children.
whats the matter, mother?' said
Bob.
'Matter enough" replied Mrs. VIII
kius. eve are showed in, and father
can't get home today"
At this little Elsie showed signs of
crying, and her mother fastened to say,
"But we'll have a Thanksgivin' when he
does come, Elsie. P'r'aps he'll come to-
morrer. See"
She got up, took the child to the win
| dow where the world was visible from
one of the upper panes, and held her up.
"The suns shinin' as nice as can be.
That'll melt all the snow soon, and then
We'll see father an old Bess comm down
the road with lots o good things"
This diverted Elsie, and she chartered
gayly while her mother dressed her.
Bob meantime climbed up and looked out
of the small peep hole left by the snow.
"There amt any people passing by,
mother" he announced.
'"No, nor won't be" she replied, mot
till the SHOWS melted pretty consider
able.
"What will we have to eat, motber?"
he inquired.
"There's plenty o things in the house,
she said. eve sha'nt starve. Don't ye
be afraid o that, Bob"
After their breakfast of fried pork and
Johnny cake she went TO feed the chick
| ems. The children followed her, for it
|
No one passed all day. The sun shone
out warm and bright, and, though they
could not perceive it, was doing slowly
but surely its good work for them. Bob
! looked out of the one pane of glass sc
long that he was tired. And it was no
wonder, for he had to stand on tiptoe on
the window sill to see out at all.
So the day wore on. When the chill
dren fretted their good mother talked
about what father would bring, and how
sure she was that he would come on the
next day-the day of their great feast
itself. She wasn't at all sure when she
first said so, but this was her way OF
keeping her own hopes up, and she sue.
ceeded SO well that she almost believed
they would see old Bess and the sleigh
Thanksgiving morning.
Wednesday had passed slowly to Mr..
Wilkins in the dingy little hotel where
he was staying. When he started fol
home early on the following morning
the hangers ON about the door forboded
all sorts of evil results to his "foolhasly
notion" of trying to get through such q
snow, but he persisted in going.
aSeems es if | must, he told them.
1t was hard work-harier than he had
expected, but old Bess was strong
horse, and he himself used to rough
weather.
Twelve miles were travelled without
incident or accident. The rest OF ths
way was lonely enough, some of it skirt
ing woods and leading through glens
1t was wild. beautiful drive in sum
mer, but desolate in winter. As Mr.
wilkins drove on, thoughts of an even
of which he had heard in town recurreC
to his mind: Judge Carter's little cir
was lost; missing since Tuesday; servan
took her to walk; neither of them seer
since: a thousand dollars reward!
These had made little impression on tn
busy man at the time, but now, in thu
quiet of that lonely drive, they cam
back in fragments He thought of hi
own little ones and of the awful weathe
that had prevailed since Tuesday, tn
day he had left horne.
He was startled from his reverie b,
the sharp barking OF dog. 1t seemes
to come from an old building of from
the road, which, situated near pond
had once been used as an ice house. Ii