The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-02-08

wHAT WOULD STEADY sLAs.

their felicity, lest the envy 1t would beget
should make the world intolerable. And
about Uncle Thatchers house there was
an atmosphere that made very easy the
repression of joyous emotion 1t was a
square frame dwelling, two stories high,
10 bare sandy yard surrounded on three
sides by ricketv fence of rails and on the
fourth-the front-by palings. with gate
IN the middle OF them. There were no
shutters on the windows, that looked like
great staring dead eyes. sometimes with
blaze of fury in them when the sun, low
in the west, elared upon them; and there
was no porch, but only big stone for
step at the door. There were no vines
trailing against the walls; no flowers in
the ward, but only weeds in the fence cor.
ners; and no trees. Everything that
might have adorned or softened the ex-
preston of the place was lacking. The
birds always flew swiftly by it aud never
stopped there to sing.
At one end of this cherries home was
crumb,ing well-curb. 10 which came often.
to draw water, a tai, gauEt, salloH and
slatternly woman, who continually wore
q sun-bonnet and had her sleeves rolled
up on her lean, sinewy arms. 4 tangled
wisp of unkempt sandy hair never failed
TO dangle below the curtain OF the sum
bonnet on the back OF her neck. That
woman was Aunt Thatcher
Behind the house, and separated from
ii by stable-yard, knee-deeD in time of
rain with muck and foul green water.
stood an old barn. from which was diff
fused dull but quite perceptible odor OF
animal decOm position, arising out OF O
great pile Of crude whaiebOne, or bal
lein." and some barrels of whale oil. Tn
Gle Thatcher was captain of shore shall
ing company, and In his barn those arti-
cles were generally stored until they could
be sent to market The "balein" needed
TO be kept some time for cleaning, scrap
ing and splitting before IL could be sold.
As Mary reached the gate she stood
stIll for a few minutes. contemplating the
scene OF thrift essness and apparent pow
erty before her: picture for which, as
she well knew, no good reason existed in
fact, for Uncle Thatcher was By no means
poor man. As captain Of the whaling
crew his annual gains were considerable.
Then tie owned fishing smack and a
large share in big coasting schooner that
piled from Sag Harbor, both of which paid
him well. But better than either Of those
TO him vas an industry, the nature snd
Importance OF which Mary little under
stood, although she suspected something
OF its mysteries. 4 certain times each
month Uncle Thatcher and one particular
neignbOr used 10 90 fishing in a stout
whaleboat rugged with a sail, on moOnlit
nights, and upon those occasions they
were almost always lucky enough to find
one or two casks OF rum-doubtless
Il = IL u
ward-DOund to New Haven from the West
Indies. III was wonderful bow many
casks Of rum were thus lost overheard in
those days. just OF Nspeague Inlet) Or
by the accidental use of grGpneil they
would chance to fish up some bottles of
valuable bay oil" from the bottom. In
Gle Thatcher used to bury that treasure
trova in the sand. back OF his barn. and it
always mysteriously disappeared at night,
when nobody was watching it. Yet he
never seemed to take those losses 20 heart,
but would find and bury more rum and
BAY oil in the same place, to be lost in
just the same way. Smuggling, eh?"
Well, yes. But they didn't cali it that
They spoke OF 1t as finding and saving
things"
While Mary stood at the gate Uncle
Thatcher himself sat upon the stone door.
step, sharpening with q milestone the
edge of a "biubOer spade"-a sort Of huge
long-handled chisel. used TO cut whales
biubher from his carcass and into strips.
He was a to | man, wirily and powerfully
built, past middle-age, but still bearing
his years. lis gray eyes were overhunR
BY exceedingly bushy iron gray brows;
bis nose was large and besk-shaDsd; his
lips, thin and straight; his ears wide and
thick; and his hands big and bonV, with
thick fingers, fiaE at the ends and having
great joints.
Looking Up from his WORK, ne demanded
Of the young girl, in a tons of queru.ous
surprise, Where on earth have you been?
I've been looking everywhere for you to
turn the grindstone."
Pm ready to do 10 now, uncle" re-
sponded Mary, eVading a reply to his
question by the prompt prolfer of her
ION, 1 don't need you. Your aunt
turned it.
He gave few rubs Of the milestone on
the shining blade. in an absent-minded
way, and then laying the long spade
across his knees and looking sharply at
Mary, said slowly, as If carefully choosing
his words;
"You don't get used to our way of living
out here on the beach, do you, Mary?
You'd rather be back in the city, where
you lived when you were a little girl,
wouldn't your"
ooh, no, uncle. Ny memories Of the
city do not make me wish 10 return to il.
Papa and mamma died there, and after We
lost papa we had to live in a very poor
part OF the city, where the tall houses hid
the sunshine and the air was always bad,
and there was much misery and dirI
and sickness all about us. Oh, loathed
il a. child, and it makes me almost sick
TO think of it now. No, don't wish to 90
back to the city. like best the bright
sunlight and the pure ocean bFeezes. l
love even the storms"
But if you could live in a nice place in
the city,"
"No. I think would be afraid TO go
back there now" While talking she had
advanced from the gate, and now stood
near her uncle.
est down here beside me. Mary.
want 10 talk to you little, said be.
She obeyed, trembling slightly, for she
felt q vague presentment that he pro-
posed pressing a subject that she dreaded
But he was slow 10 begin. seemed TO hesi-
tate. and relapsed into thought while he
pared his already stubby nailc upon the
sharp edge OF the blubber-spade. At
length he ''made out his bearings" and
opened the attack
you knew" he said. Chat Silss has