Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1894-05-04

Gzzz4z11s22assa year in which To
recupernte and prepare for tho long
winter weeks of hard work.
nm ut work in my uncle's counting
house and generally supposed to be
his heir, as he 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 Mt any time.
CHATS right, my boy" he said, rs
Farm, Hollowdale. lam glad you are
going in for quiet instead of dollhouse
flowers and midnight Dances" refer
ring to my last years designations Mt
Long Branch. sAnd now, 1 dare say,
you will want some money, even in
that out-of-theway place. Hero is
your salary for the next two months.
Oh, bother the thanlls!" MS attempt
ed to speak. ''Now be Off with you
and enjoy yourself. Be sure You arc
back by September 1, and-by the
way, how do you get to this Brookside
Farm?"
Somewhat surprised, gave him the
directions, and was still moro aston
ished when he said; 81 may run down
aomc Friday night and stny over Sun
day with you. Jersey milk and butter
never hurt me. Well, goodby, my
boy, and steer clear of tho summer
girls, with a twinkle in his eye.
Ten o'clock that night finds me Jolt
ing over country roads in market
wagon, drawing deop draughts of
country air and listening to the cheer
full chirping of crickets. Soon we turn
into pretty lane, hedged on both
sides with small crabapple trees Still
another turn. and we draw up in front
of little, old, gnbled farm house,
covered with pretty green vines and
climbing roses.
To tell the truth, I. saw very little
of it that night and at that hour, but
1 was up early the next morn
ing and out on nm explor-
ing expedition. The house was built
on small knoll, and through the
clover field at the back found path.
Following it slowly I came upon II
small, pebbly brook, dancing in the
sun as it rushed over the pebbles, and
now lettering, rs 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 trobles,
bubble into eddying bays
Ibabble on the pebbles.
With many n curve my banks I fret
BY many II field and fallow,
And many n fairy foreland set
With willow weed and mallow.
This little stream wound in and ont,
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 air and rcvelling in the
. unexpected sights and beauties of the
place. Now L espy tiny ford in the
shape of o half-dozen stepping stones,
which soon land me on the other side.
L would have explored farther, but nm
unmistakable sensation in the areg1on
of my heart proclaims that breakfast
must be nearly ready, so slowly re-
trace my steps and fndig mine. host
anxiously looking for mo md, just
about to ring the bell-used oil week
days to call tho farm hands in.
Mine host is genial old chap of
perhaps fifty, and his wife, Mrs. Per
kns, is motherly soul of about the
same age. I follow them into the
cool, vine-shadcd dining room and
find new member of the family. A
pretty, bright-eyed, brown-h haired
maid is singing little snatches of song
cs she feeds two fluffy yellow canarics
"A1y niece, Hazel, Mr.. Lauton." 1
bow and then involuntnrily glance
around tho room, evidently dining and
sitting room combined What pretty
room it is, with its old-fashioncd rag
carpet. the pretty chintz- covered sofa,
n great, deep lounging chair near the
window covered with the same cool
stuff and the tnblo with its snowy coy
ering.
The dear old motherly lady sits on
one side, the plensant-fGced farmer op-
posite, and down at the other end n
bright face with rosy cheeks anil
roguish eyes. Yes, I am sure + shall
enjoy my holiday How delicious the
crisp rolls, yellow butter and thick
cream were. Why cannot such things
be found in tue city?
"Wo alwaysgo to tho meeting house
every Sunday, Air. Lauton, +" said Mrs.
Perkins, "nnd if you would like to GO
with us we should like it right well. I"
look ut pretty Hazel and make up
my mind to go, Yc golsi- What n