The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1890-02-19
BEN'S OLD HAT.

An auction was going on at the old
yellow farmhouse on the hill. Bachelor
Barker was dead, and his heir, young
nephew he had never seen since the boy
was four years old, had come down to
sell things off. Rumor said he intended
to tear down the old house afterward,
and take money from the bank and build
fine new residence, with mansard
roof.
''It's shame" said one or two
"Such pity Barker did not make will.
He must have had some intentions about
such a property. He never could have
intended all that wealth to go to boy
he did not like enough to ask him over
for the summer"
The doctor felt sure he would have
founded hospital, and placed him in it
as resident physician for life, if the will
had been made.
The clergyman knew he meant to do
something for the church. The pro-
fessor had heard him speak of free
library and reading-room. Every one
knew something, and all the far-awey
cousins had expected legacies.
Every one thought the arrangements
all wrong, but the heir and the auctioneer,
who had made an inventory of the old
furniture-the tall clock, the andirons,
the solid tables with leaves, the spinning
wheels, big and little; the fddle-back
chairs, and all those other possessions
adored by the fashionable to-day, but
utterly despised twenty years ago as sold
things not worth keeping"
The young heir would, if he built his
villa, furnish it with 'sets" of the latest
style, with brussels carpets with white
grounds and bright wreaths of roses
scattered over them.
"Cant get much for the old sticks, :"
he said, "but I'd like to clear up and
be done with it,"
Miss Camiola Brown, sitting at the
front up-chamber window cutting out
calico short waists for Mrs. Blacks five
little boys, laid down her shears for
once in her life, and, with her elbows on
the sill, watched the people as they
walked or drove past and entered in
at the gates of the late Mr.. Barker's
premises.
''Poor Benjamin." she sighed. 81
wonder whether up in heaven he re-
members the day when he took me in
and walked me all over the housel
1.-THE things are old fashioned, Can't
ola, he said to me; but they were
mother's-and before that they were
grandmother's. like them, but say the
word, and I'll new furnish NO, Ben
says l, what your ma liked to have, I
don't want to alter. l like it all; it's
good stuff and then he kissed me"
Miss Camiola felt for her handker-
chief, as she said this to herself. "And
we stood at the grand window and looked
off toward the mountains. 'Wer're going
to be happy as ever folks were, said he;
here the tears began to fall. "Oh,
Ben, she sobbed, "to think we quar-
relied after that, and didn't speak when
we met. But you never married, and |
refused two offers-good ones. Ben, l
guess Wen meet up there some time,
and make up"
Poor old Caniola put her head down
on her arms and cried softly amongst the
purple blossoms of the wisteria that
yelled the window. No one could see
her from the road. But her tears dried
soon, and she came back to the present.
They were selling the old furniture at
auction. The claw-footed side-board,
the settle, the big mahogany cradle in
which four generations of babies had
been rocked-all these dear old things
that once were to have been hers, as
Benjamin Barker's wife; and she was a
poor seamstress, an old maid going
from house to house for her board and
fifty cents a day; looking forward to
feeble old age, and with an awful dread
in her soul of becoming "town POOR" at
last.
If she had married Ben, how different
it would have been.
"Why, Miss Camiola! you've been a
cryin ~ said Mrs. Blacks loud voice, just
then, in her ear. Camiola started guiltily,
but she was too candid to complain of a
cold or the sun in her eyes.
"Well l have cried little, Mrs
Black, said she. "'You see, we used to
be friends, Mr.. Barker and l, and l knew
his ma, and l remember all that furni-
ture, and it seems sin to sell it and tear
down the old house, and maybe root up
the lilacs and strawberry shrubs, and
perhaps cut down the trees. 1t was
almost like home to me in Mrs. Barkers
day"
"Well, it must seem a sin to any one,
and more so to you, Miss Camiola," said
Mrs. Black. ''But don't you want to go
over and see the place and what is going
onl You might as well just take day
or the rest of it. I'm in no hurry, and
you look tuckered out
Mrs. Black was kind in her way, and
felt certain pity for Camiola. She had
heard that Camiola was once engaged to
Mr.. Barker, and might to-day have been
a rich and important widow, instead of a
poor, lonely seamstress.
500 along, Miss Camiola," " she added.
''I know you want to. "
"Did she want TOT" Camiola asked
herself; and her heart answered "Yes.