Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1890-03-01

ly and in pro,oundest melancholy by
an afternoon train to the small sta
ton OF Fossett in Hampshire.
Now this isnot a tale with u moral
intended toextol virtue and to villity
any departure,rom the beaten tracks
OF 'iuty and Of goodness; very far
from it. And vet in regard to what
beiell Ernest Rediorthin consequence
of his dutiiul arrival among his al
fectionate relations upon that par
tlcular Christmas, u moral might
very we'll be drawn that would fifty
serve as nm Incentive to all other
light-minded gentleman such as he
to do what is considered the right
thing upon the 25th of December,
rather than that which in the bot
tom OF theirunregenerate hearts they
| prefer to do.
Fossett Hall was a comfortable old
house, but there were no evidences of
wealth about it. In these days squires
are not rich men, and MIR. Redlorth
had hard work tokeep up his proper
ty at nil Upon falling rents and bad
harvests. He hadlet off all the shoot
ing, and had had to take many of
the farms ut great loss into his
own hands. There were horses
to speak of in the large
roOmy stables where Ernest be-
took himself with pipe soon
after his arrival; only the two tat
carriage horses, the pony that went
to the station. and an old hunter
which did all sorts of odd jobs, and
had only not been sold because he
was very old, and what is called
'dickey" upon his fore. legs-ha9
been blistered and fired, and was
slightly touched in the wind into the
bargain He had been q fine horse
once, and could do an easy day after
the hounds now and again still, but
the frost wasaioot deepin theground
now. and no chance even of this sol
ace for our friend Ernest.
Presently, for want of something
to do, he strolled down to the church
thinking he would see how his sisters
were getting on, and whether Ellen,
the youngest and most companion
able of the three, would feel disposed
to leave her pious labor and come
Tor q little walk with him instead.
He walked in at the open church
door unnoticed. 1t was an ugly
whitewashed structure, with heavy
galleries running between the round
Norman pillars, and great dark oak
en- beams, stained and blackened
with age, reaching across the roof.
A church that might with care and
money have been restored intosome-
handsome and interesting. but in it's
neglected condition was u marvel OF
unmitigated ugliness.
Ernest could catch a glimpse Of his
eldest sister crimson sEirtsand wool !
en- stockings exalted high above the
pulpit; Mary, the second, was clutch
ing wildly round the capital OF d pill. |
lar half way down the aisle, whilst
Ellen was clambering indignantly on
her hands and knees upon a window
ledge
Give US the mills a minute. please. " |
Mr.. Fenton, bit more rope ifyou 4
can find it!''
"Oh! Mr.. Fenton; would you mind /
reaching the end OF that text for me? /
Not the Unto us end, the sHallelu- I
jan end, please"
The unhappy Mr.. Fenton vas run
of his legs; he was meek, fair-faced |
young curate, with a timid nature 4
and weak eyes; but such as he was,
he was much Mt the beck AMI call of \
the squire's daughters, for "a curate
Is q curate for all that" and unmar-
ried men were rare indeed in the par
ish OF Fossett.
Everybody was too busy to take
the slightest notice OF Ernest. He
stood leaning against pillar near
the door, upon the further side OF
which n ladder was propped up, and
half enviously the busy
scene before him. Some OF the
school children and the yerrer
were sorting and arranging the
evergreens near the font, and Mr..
Fenton ran about and handed things
to the young ladies; he never could
20 up ladders himself, it made him
giddy, but he was very useful to fetch
and carry.
Its getting darkereyery minute"
said Georgina Redforth, in the dis
tance, I'VE shan't be able to do much
more to-day"
You might fetch u candle, Mr..
Fenton," suggested Ellen: she spoke
mumblingiy, because her mouth was
'ull of tin tacks
II will, Miss Ellen; there is one in the
vestry," replied the meek one, hurry
ng off 10 do her behest.
Just then, Immediately above
Elnest's head, there came the sound
Of a soft voice thatseemed to descend
1ut Of the vague darkness ofthe oak
IN rafters, and like an angelic whisper
10 float downward toward the young
nan beneath.
Is that you, Mr.. Fenton?" mrr-
nured the silvery voice Of the invisi-
Die angel in the root. "Wili you very
Sindly hand me up that small ham
ner that islying on theseat?" There.
lose to your hand, ii ISL
Ernest was cropping about in the
for the hammer and