Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1895-09-21

@T,Ss~MTT--NN'/ fathers, who had
W<li ~ long since passed
\ N the allotted age OF
three score and ten
and who was still fighting daily battles
with his chronic aches and pains for
the sole reason that Providence had
never seen fit to let him die.
On the morning when she was thirty
two Miss Coleman thought sorrowfully
of the unmerited plague that had
swept away her kinfolk, and more than
one tear rolled off the end of her nose
and FLASHED in the cup of lnkewarm
tea that stood on the table before her
She finally swallowed the last drop OF
the connection of Oolong and waters
of Marah, at the same time drying her
eyes with the corner of her white linen
handkerchief, that she might make
sure of the identity of the messenger
boy who came slowly up the walk and
round the corner of the house to the
door of the dining room, Which &C.
cupied the front portion of the
north L.
He had n telegram for Miss Abbie.
That worthy lady had learned to look
upon Geographic communications MS
the most potent disturbers of the pub
lie peace that were allowed unbridled
circulation throughout the land /; per.
haps she had we'll grounded reasons
for so regarding them when it was
taken in consideration that every one
she had ever received had notified her
of the death of another Coleman. So
that day she let the yellow envelope
lie on the table where the boy had put
it and eyed it suspiciously for several
minutes after he had gone. Consol-
ing herself at last, however, with the
thought that there was only one more
Coleman to die except herself, she
opened it and read:
"Dear Aunt-Will arrive at 1890 over the
Wabash road. Your loving nephew,
"ToM COLEMAN"
She pinched herself as she had been
wont to do in childhood days to as
sure herself that she was not dreaming
and then heread it again. A second
reading necessitated second pinch
ing. That roviving process having
been brought to satisfactory ter
minatiun, she called in the man-of-all-
work, who was trimming rose bush es
Just outside the window and proceeded
to lay the matter before him, in the
hope that both brains in conjunction
might evolve some plausible solution
of the strange message.
"John," she said, holding the tele-
gram out for inspection, 81 have just
heard from my nephew Tom"
John laid down his pruning knife,
which he had unwittingly carried into
the house, and removed his hat.
"Have you, ma'am?" he said quiet
ly.
"Yes, she returned, che will be
here this morning at half-past ten. "
John shifted his hat quickly from
one hand to another and looked at
Miss Abbie wonderingly.
81 didn't know you had such q
thing as q nephew" he said at length,
his curiosity getting the best of him.
"I've been here fifteen years come
next month and during that time ]
have seen everybody die off that was
any known relation to you. Where's
he from"
Miss Abbie gave vent to her emo
ton in shrill little laugh.
"You know as much about him as |
do, John" she said, contidentially.
81 never heard of him before in my
life. OF course, have no nephew,
never did have nephew and never
can have nephew, but what am l to
do? There is no other Abbie Cole,
man within fifty miles of here, SO, OF
course, the telegram Is meant for me.
In some way this young fellow Ia.
gathered up scrap of my history,
and the only way can get even is to
investigate his pedigree in return.
Anyway, it will be comfort to shake
hands with young man who has for
u time supposed himself to be my
! bona.fde relative. Let the rose bushes
alone this morning, John, and get
ready to drive down to the station and
meet him."
The 1920 train over the Wabash
road was three minutes ahead of time
that day and when Miss Coleman's
man, who was five minutes later than
he had intended to be, drove up to
the implanted wooden station, The
only persons left in sight were the sta
ton master and middle-aged gentle
man, who seemed to be harassing that
crusty official with numerous unwel
come questions about the topography
of the country thereabouts and the
means OF reaching any desired d?sti,
nation.
"rhcro's Miss Coleman's man now,
said the station master, locking the
door and throwing the mail sack
across his shoulder. ecau tell you
whatever you want to know hecalleC
back, as he started down the roat
toward tho village, ''and maybe Civ,
you n lift in the bargain.
John drew the horses up beside tn,
platform, where the stranger sat, lean
ing against the wall of the station
and clambered out of the wagon.
"Are you Mr.. Tom Coleman?" HI
asked, producing the telegram as he
would letter of introduction au,
handing it to the other as an evideuc,
of good faith on his part.
The man took off his hat, brushed
back his grayish-brown hair and nod
ded. Then, as if fearing that tina
silent acknowledgment of his identit,
was insufficient demonstration, Ii
added:
Eyes, am. Who are you?"
"Pm the general manager of Mis-
Abbie's place" John answered, with
touch OF resentment at the brusqut
ness OF the speaker. ''She sent IN
down to meet You. Are you ready |
For answer the gentleman climbe