Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1893-04-15
AN EIGHT-DAY CLOCK.

4
said Zedekiah. He leaned back
against the broken gatepost and
stared hard at the setting sun. The
ragged looking cornfelds stretched
desolately away at his feet and wore
an apologetic aspect. as though
ashamed to call attention to the mea-
ger array of coinstocks and diminu
tive yellow pumpkins which were
their utmost effort in the way of
crops. 1t was poverty stricken in
heritance enough; land that had
run out" from lack of enriching; a
belt of once glorious woodlands, now
sadly shrunk and spoiled by repeat
cd telling, and the low, gray farm
house, unpainted for many a long
year and showing the ravages Of
time and weather to an alarming ex-
tent despite all Zedekiah's unfiagI
ging efforts at patching and repairs
Yes, it was poor patrimony, and
yet Zedekiah loved every tree and
every stone--there were plenty--on
tho place, and his heart within him
swelled with sorrow and passionate
regret at the thought that that terri
ble mortgage must be foreclosed
next Monday, and Birch Brook farm
lost to the name of Barnes forever.
1t had been desperate struggle to
keep their heads above water ever
since their fathers death two years
before Farming carried on by a
delicate widow and boy of Is, how
ever much energy and good will
they bring to bear between them on
the work in hand, can hardly be ex.
pected to afford brilliant results, and
the wet season just passed had FIN
ished the job, as Zedekiah himself
would have said. The hay was
spoiled and tho wheat sprouted, and
where the magnificent income of the
owners just sufficed to buy the salt
for the stirabout which the ruined
corn should have supplied, that
meant ruin.
And so the mortgage was to be
foreclosed next Monday, and the
Barneses were to be homeless.
"Zed Zedl" 1t was a gentle voice
that called, and Zedekiah, with a
shake of his shoulders, forced a
ghastly smile of assumed cheerful.
ness and turned to greet his mother
at the open door.
She had been pretty woman
once, and even now, faded and worn
though she was, there was certain
grace and gentleness about her
which accounted for her sons devo-
ton, even though the little plain
tive voice and manner showed, poor
woman, that life had been a pretty
hard and bitter struggle.
Come in To your supper, BED,
she called again as he came up the
Jagged walk with an air Of intense
Jauntiness 10 hide the fact that he
was footsore and lame where the
tiints had bruised through the worn
boots The children arc that hungry
that ! can't keep them quiet, and
they ought to have been in bed. poor
thlngsn
Two yellow haired little girls ran
up as they entered
''Ah Zed, F." cried little Mamie,
II amt had no supper yet Wasn't
you bad To stay away SO longr
While baby Garry chimed in; "Yeth,
zed velly bad boy. Shant have no
supper hisselfl"
Hush, hush~ said the mother
Children, how you talk One
would think you We're beggar chill.
dren 10 talk like thatr
zed's forced smile faded In quick
look of pain.
They ought 10 go TO school, he
said, then checked himself at the
recollection OF the cost of school.
books
He was staring hard AT the red !
ambers of the tire rs his mother ne /
turned from giving the little girls
heir good night kiss and sat down
n her shabby rocking chair 10 the
iarning and patching, which was
he usual evening occupation. He
reused himself again az her ap-
,roach. He was always trying to DO
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