Rocky Ford enterprise., 1893-12-21

mine. Here the father had worked
each day from morp to night to feed,
ever scantily, his wife and children.
At last came a season of great dearth.
The miner fell sick. Sadly his wife
hung out of sight his leather work.
suit.
The cold winter with its cruel grasp
stole down from the mountain tops;
still the miner lay sick; still the dearth
of food throughout the little town; no
where q mouthful. to spare. The birds
in the trees lived and were merry.
Must the little children starvc? Who
had done it? 81 tell you, it's the
Gubich, king of dwarfs, who spoiled
the crops last year. know his pranks,
curse him." said the oldest Of the min
ers. "Who in summer steals all
the raspberries and strawberries?
He never eats aught else, and
has lived like q prince, in his rocky
cavern up there among the holy frs,
ever since the old giant threw these
mountains out Of his shoe because the
bit of sand hurt him. tell you, the
Gubich can make us sick with n
glance, touch or breath. Save me
from going near his home! Yet they
say the cones off his trees are good to
eat, and can be made into wondrous
pretty things which sell we'll in the
town below us. Starve or touch them?
Starve, I say!"
Dear husband" said the penitent
wife, thou knowest the holy frs; go
to gather their cones. will sell them
and buy thee food which will make
thee well. Children, care for thy
father while am gone"
Quickly throwing q shawl over her
head and taking basket on her arm,
out into the gathering GOODNESS of the
coming night stepped the mother. The
wind shook the alders at the cottage
door until they nodded and peepcd ut
the windows. 1t roughly ratified the
dried foliage of the stately oaks, whose
sacredness to the gods the elements
were thought to respect, and then died
away among the pines in soft, sad
music, that brought tears to the
mothers eyes. 1t was like the moan
the BARNS made for bread. The
tears broke into sob; half-blinded,
with q bent head, she reached the edge
of the holy forest.
Pityingly, out from his bed of clouds,
the setting sun glanced warm and ten
der. He shot his parting rays among
the frs, and filed their deep shadows
with cheerful glow. Suddenly, into
the marked pathway OF its light,
stepped little man with snowy beard,
who gravely doffed his leathern cap and
waited for the sad mother to reach him.
nj
Why SO sad?'' broke upon her startled
ear.
"Oh, sir, mean no harm. NV chill
dren starve; my husband never again
will be well. 1 cannot see them ask
each day for bread and give them none.
go to gather cones. Do let me pass
and fill my basket"
II would harm thee not, my friend" :"
said the little man. "And knowest
thou where the best cones can be
found2 Follow this path a hundred
feet, and there they can be gathered
with"-but the mother was on her way.
A knowing look, o carcss of his white
beard, sniff Of the perfumed forest
air, and the little man had vanished.
With glad feet the mother hurried on.
Not a sound but the dropping of cones
Grokc the stiffness of the forest. Faster
and thicker they seemed to fall at each
onward step. A perfect storm of cones.
They dropped upon her head; they fell
at her feet; they pelted her shoulders:
they filled her basket. Frightened, the
poor woman turned. and fed, glancing
neither to the right OF. left. Heavier
and heavier the basket grew. Breath
less and exl,Austcd she reached her cot
tage door.