Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1894-02-16

recnperate ana prepare lor THO long
winter weeks of hard work.
I am at work in my uncles counting
house and generally supposed to be
his heir, ns 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
Tho read the address. "Brookside
Farm, Hollowdale. lam glad you are
going i'll for quiet inst cad of dollhouse
flowers and midnight Dances" refer
ring to my last years designations nj
Long Branch "And now, dare say,
you will want some money, even in
that out-of the-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 enjoy yourself. BE sure you arc
back by September ], and-by the
way, how do you get to this Brookside
Fnrm?"
Somewhat surprised, I gave him the
directions, and was still more aston
ished when he said: "L may run down
come Friday night and stay over Sun
day with you. Jersey milk and butter
never hurt me. Well, goodby, my
boy, and steer clear of tho summer
girls, with n 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
full chipping of crickets. Soon We turn
into pretty lane, hedged on both
sides with small crnbapple trees. Still
another turn, and we draw up in front
of q little, old, gnbled farm house,
covered with pretty green vines AID
climbing roses.
10 tell tho truth, saw very little
of it that night and ct 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 tho
clover field ut the back found path
Following it slowly I came upon n
small, pebbly brook, dancing in the
sun rs it rushed over the pebbles, aud
now lettering, as if loath to leave the
shade of the dropping willows. AS
watched it softly repeated Tenny-
sons lines:
1 chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
L bubble into eddylng bays;
Ibabblo on the pebbles.
With many n curve my banks fret
BY many O field and fallow
And 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 revealing in the
unexpected sights and benuties of the
place. Now l espy tiny ford in the
shape of half-dozen stepping stones,
which soon land me on the other side.
I would have explored farther, but m
unmistakable sensation in the region
of my heart proclaims that breakfast
must be nearly ready, so 1 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 n motherly soul of about the
same age. I 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 snatciles of song
as she feeds two fluffy yellow canaries.
"AIy niece, Hazel, MIR. Eauton."
bow and then involuntarily glance
around tho room, evidently dining and
sitting room combined. What pretty
room it is, with its old-fashioned rag
carpet, the pretty chintz-covered sofa,
n great, deep lounging chair near the
window covered with the same cool
stuff and the table with its snowy coy
ering.
The dear old motherly lady sits oil
one side, the pleasant-faced farmer OPP
posite, and down ut tho other end q
bright face with rosy cheeks and
roguish eyes. Yes, am sure shall
enjoy my holiday. How delicious the
crisp rolls. yellow butter and thick
cream were. Why cannot such things
be found in thc city?
"Wc alwayago to tho meeting house
every Sunday, AIr. Lauton." said Mrs.
Perkins, "and ii you would like to go
with us We should like it right we'll. y
look Mt pretty Hazel and make III