The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1889-08-21
GRANDFATHER'S CLOCK
BY coRNELIA NEPos.

l was coming up the street to-day,
hurrying home to dinner, when brass
band struck up "My Grandtather's
Clock" I was in haste, but stopped
to hear it, not because particularly ad-
Hire the air, but because there came be-
fore my mental vision a most distinct
memory of childish adventure of my
own, connected with my grandfather's
clock. In recalling it, I am we'll aware
that much of the story must have been
told me by older people, but my OWL
share viii never leave my memory.
I was six years old when my father
died, and my grandfather offered home
tony widowed mother and myself.
know now that poverty alone would
not have driven my mother to accept this
offer, but she knew that she had an in
curabie internal disease that might spare
her life for years, butwould make it diff
cult for her to earn living. She could
take charge of my grandfather's house
keeping, but was often compelled to re-
main for several days together in her own
room.
To say that my grandfather was an i'll
tempered tyrant gives but faint idea OF
his utterly unreasonable demands and
love Of power Sometimes he would not
speak to any member of the whole house
hold for week; he would refuse to come
to the table when meals were served, and
give way to furious rage when, two
hours later, the food was set before him
utterly ruined by delay. Only the ex-
tfeme gentleness of my mothers disposi-
tion made her life endurable, and she was
happy only when alone with me, direct
ing me to sew and knit, and allowing me
to help her when she was able to make
delicacies for the table.
Our sitting-room was on the first floor,
and was combination of study, library,
sewing-reom, and school-room, for in the
cold weather it was the only place in the
house, excepting the kitchen, where we
were allowed to have fire. The dining
room between sitting room and kitchen
shared the warmth of each. In one corner
of this sitting-room, where every article
was of the fashion of a century before,
was the clock that governed the household
movements. It was ten feet high, and
four wide, with mahogany case and
two partitions as the sides where the
weights hung. The pendulum swung
by itself in the central division, and
above was the big white face with the
dial. There was no mechanism about it,
excepting the clock-work to record the
time and strike the hour, but it was a
reliable time-keeper and the especial OBJ
joct of pride to my grandfather. I think
my childish awe of it was so great that I
should have expected to be hanged or
otherwise put to death if touched it.
Every Saturday night my mother held
the candle while my grandfather wound
It up, and I stood and watched the two
heavy weights slorrly rise from the floor
to The top, making the ascent in few
moments that it would take them whole
week to re-travel. My grandfather al
ways spoke of it as precious legacy that
would one day be mine, thereby filing
me with horror, as if he were going to
to leave me a skull or a skeleton. was
q tirnid child, and my greatest terror was
that clock. The whirr of its wheels be-
fore striking the slow, loud strokes, the
solemn tick, all inspired me with fright
as great as it was entirely unreasonable.
Our household consisted of two women
servants and one man besides the family,
and our days were passed in dreary mo-
aosony. My grandfather was proprietor
of large calico factory that was man
aged entirely by trusted clerk, except
ing the payment of the hands. Every
Friday he went to Stockton, the nearest
town, to draw from bank the money for
this purpose. And every Saturday after
noon he drove to the factory and paid the
wages for the week. It was custom of
such long standing that no one associated
any idea of danger with it, and no sick
ness OF weather had ever, to my knowl-
edge, prevented the weekly journeys.
must explain here my own state of
mind when I had been three years with
INV grandfather. I feared him with the
most intense fear, having felt the weight
of his heavy hand for every triaing Of
fence that came to his knowledge. ]
hsted him as only child can hate, hav-
ing no active sense of the duty of sup
pressing that emotion. hated him for