The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1893-10-12

S.sF&l~N&s Ensnsa E%yS %' ., only c.oh an%
ccZzz-z--lSLzW year in which to
recuperatc and prepare for the long
winter weeks of hard work
am Mt work in my unclcs counting
house and generally supposed to be
his heir, rs hc has neither kith nor
kin except myself. So | walked into
the private office that Saturday after
noon and gave him my address in case
he should want me ut any time.
That's right, my boy he said, as
he read the address. "Brookside
Farm, Hollowdale. lam glad you are
going in for quiet instead of hothouse
flowers and midnight Dances" refer
ring to my last years dissipations at
Long Branch. "And now, dare say,
you will want some money, even in
that out-of-thc-way place. Here is
your salary for the next two months.
oh, bother the thanks !" rs | attempt
cd to speak. "Now be off with you
and eDjoy yourself. BE sure you are
back by September l, and-by the
way, how do yen get to this Brookside
FARM"
Somewhat surprised, | gave him the
directions, and was still more aston
ished when he said: 81 may run down
some Friday night and stay over Sun
day with you. Jersey milk and butter
never hurt me. Well, goodby, my
boy, and steer clear of the summer
girls" with twinkle in his eye.
Ten o'clock that night finds me Jolt
ing over country roads in market
wagon, drawing deep draughts OF
country mir and listening to the cheer
ful chirping of crickets. Soon we turn
into pretty lane, hedgcd on both
sides with small crabapple trees. Still
another turn, and we draw up in front
of n little, old, gablcd farm house.
covered with pretty green vines and
climbing roses
To tell the truth, | saw very little
of it that night and at that hour, but
i was up early the next morn
ing and out on an explor-
ing expedition. The house was built
on small knoll, and through the
clover field at the back found n path.
Following it slowly / came upon
small, pebbly brook, dancing in the
sun as it rushed over the pebbles. and
now lettering, as if loath TO leave the
shade of the dropping willows. As |
watched it / softly repeated Tenny-
sons lines:
i chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trcbes,
bubble into eddying bays,
babble on the pebbles.
With many curve my banks L iret
by many field and fallow.
Aud many fairy foreland set
With willow weed and mallow.
This little stream wound in and out,
shaded here and there by graceful,
dropping willows, whose branches
swayed and kissed their shadows in the
water. / wandered along, drinking in
the pure, fresh mir and revelling in the
unexpected sights and beauties of the
place. Now espy n tiny ford in the
shape of n half-dozen stepping stones,
which soon land me on the other side.
l would have explored farther, but an
unmistakable sensation in the region
of my heart proclaims that breakfast
must be nearly ready, so | slowly re-
trace my steps and find mine host
anXiously looking for me and Just
about to ring the bell used on week
days to call the farm hands in.
Mine host is genial old chap of
perhaps fifty, and his wife, Mrs. Per-
kins, is motherly soul of about the
same age. follow them into the
cool, vine-shaded dining room and
find new member of the family. A
pretty, bright-eyed, brown-haired
maid is singing little snatches of song
as she feeds two fluffy yellow canaries.
"My niece, Hazel, Mr.. Lauton."
how and then involuntarily glance
around the room, evidently dining and
sitting room combined. What pretty
room it is, with its old-fashioned rag
carpet, the pretty chintz-covered sofa,
great, deep lounging chair near the
window covered with the same cool
stuff and the table with It's snowy GOV.
ering.