The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1895-09-01

Then the twirling of the thumbs began.
and two pairs of round blue eyes were fixed
on grandpa face.
do either of you children know what
hardship is2"
1t was dreadful to have a story begin
like a catechism, and the two pairs of
young eyes looked at each other wonder
ingly.
Grandpa's eyes smiled benignantly at
both, and he did not wait long for an an
swer.
"Of course you don't know" he went on,
''and am glad you don't.
''But the children who lived in New
thing about hardships and it didn't do
them much harm.
lone of grandpa's hardships was build
ing the fires in that old log schoolhouse
you have heard so much about.
my folks lived nearer to the school
house than most any body else-only a
mile or so, 'crosslots.
"My father was good, kind man always
But, like most folks in New England long
ago, he thought all the work you could get
out of boy was just so much clear gain.
"Well, whenever there came an extra
swapping cold morning they used to send
me over to the schoolhouse 'crosslots
before breakfast to build a fire and get
things warmed up before the teacher and
zone morning-Monday morning it was
1t was so cold that the milk was frozen
solid in the crooks and the windowpanes
were painted all over by Jack Frost's
clever fingers.
"'Charles,' said my kind-hearted father,
Charles, it's proper cold morningl The
teacher and the scholars will be most froze
when they get to the schoolhouse and
they ought to find 1t warm and comfort
able there. You just run over as fast as
you can skedaddle and build fire. Mother
will have nice, warm breakfast ready for
you when you get home againp
"There was plenty of green cord-wood
piled in the schoolhouse shed, and it
made fine hot fires when you got them
started with dry wood.
.'There had been a little pile of dry wood
there to kindle with, but this cold Monday
morning l came pretty near to crying
when found that the good folks who had
built the fires for Sunday meeting had
burned up almost every stick of dry wood
there was about the place.
'tMy hands were numb and aching with
the cold already, and made up my mind
that his was the coolest day, by all odds,
that had ever seen in my life. Ofcourse
couldn't 60 home without building thar
fire though, and picked up a Ratchet and
hustled out into the woods. / knew where
to find an old dead log under the snow.
and / worked tooth and nail till I had
some pieces of dry wood to carry away
with me.
Everything seemed to take long time.
but got back to the schoolhouse after
awhile, and raked the ashes till found
Goals and started my fire all right.
'Then | tried to go back home.
ut was still, clear morning, and I
guess II my father had owned a thermom-
eter that morning he would never have
sent me out in the snow.
My feet felt as if they weighed a ton
apiece, and my hands ached SO that gave
up trying to warm them by pounding
them together. Ny head began to feel
pretty bad, and my body felt as If 1t were
being pricked by thousand needles.
Some way struggled along till / came
10 the fence OF our twenty-acre lot, and l
saw our house over yopder. with the smoke
coming out of the chimney. Then /
couldn't try any more, and / felt myself
falling miles and miles through soft snow
drifts, and felt sleepy and not cold any
more.
After long time-I thought it must be
years, because I felt like an old mani
opened my eyes and saw my mother, and
groaned with pain and misery. When L
was better they told me what had hap,
pened, and how mothers sharp eyes saved
grandfather for you children.
Mother began to worry because Charles
was gone too long. The house warmed up
comfortably, the breakfast was cooked and
eaten. and still no Charles.
Mother kept walking to the window