Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1897-04-29
The TOWN Clock.

BY ANNIE WESTON WHITNEY.
The heat was terrible; but Barbay
did not seem to mind it as she hurried
along the close, dusty street, her clean
calico gown giving her a bright, fresh
look that it did one good to see on such
day. In her arm she carried queer
looking bundle. She smiled happily as
she hurried on, her thoughts all of
Father, dear Father, to whom she was
going.
Stopping as she reached the City
Hall, she looked up, half expectantly
and hopefully, up at the tall tower
reaching so far, far above her. A
brighter smile came into her face as
loud, clear and distinct came from
above the clang-clang-c
-clang-clang that told the hour of
day.
She looked moment longer, but
Father was not to be seen; dear Father
who was so good and kind and whom
everybody loved. And why shouldn't
they? How could they help it, and how
could they do wi...out him? Why,
Father was the old Town Clock, or one
half of it, as Mother used to say, Mr..
Harper being the other half. Poor Mr..
Harper! she was so sorry for him, be-
cause his little baby boy was dead.
She was at the foot of the long flight
of steps now; the steps leading to
Father, dear Father, the Town Clock;
for strange as it may seem, there is in
one of our Southern cities town clock
whose only face is human face; whose
only hands are human hands, and
whose machinery is the muscle Of
strong mans arm.
Any one else might have thought the
long flight of steps leading to the tower
a tedious climb in the heat; but Barclay
only stopped a moment to look up. She
loved the long climb, because it took
her always nearer dear Father; and
then it seemed so odd to be going up,
up over the tops of the houses and
stores, and to look down every little
while through the funny little windows
and see the people growing smaller and
smaller until they looked like fairies
then to look up at the beautiful sky
and wonder about the dear Heavenly
Father who loved every one so dearly
and who watched over them always.
Up higher and still higher the little feet
climbed, until there was only wooden
door between her and Father. Softly
she opened it and peeped in.
BLESS my soul and body" said a
pleasant voice; and the next moment
Barclay was in her fathers arms.
What brought you here this hot
day, Sweetheart, and what's in the bum
dle?" he asked, after she had almost
smothered him with kisses.
"The dressmaker next door let me
do an errand and gave me this" said
Barclay, taking up the bundle she had
laid aside and proudly displaying big
cantaloupe.
and you brought it for Father to
look at?" he said, with a twinkle in
his eye
For Father to eat" she said, sweet
ly.
lOu always lCDltlllDtI yOuT Olu Id
ther, Sweetheart" he said, lovingly.
well, will try to manage one-half IL
you'll attend to the other. / could not
possibly eat more than that while you
are here. 1t would be so impolite, you
know"
IF l go away will you eat it ALP"
she asked, again putting her arms
round his neck, but looking into his
face as though she loved every curve
and impress on it.
II could not touch it, / would be so
disappointed" he said taking off her
hat and kissing her forehead. He al
ways called her his little sweetheart;
but every one else called her Barbay, a
name she had given herself when she
was very little.
1t was in a queer corner of a still
queerer room in this tall tower that
they sat down by narrow table push
ed close to the wall to enjoy their feast.
A hanging cupboard, from which a
couple of spoons, some salt and knife
were taken, suggested certain house
keeping arrangements, while on the
table were pen, ink and paper, with
book or two, evidently taken from the
hanging shelves in another corner. In
deed, there were only corners in which
to hang things, for the sides of the
room were great windows looking over
the city in all directions. But the most
curious thing in this curious room was
the great bell, reaching almost from
the ceiling to the floor; a tongueless,
clapperless bell, that had made no mo-
ton Of any kind since the day 1t had
been placed in position. many, many
years ago Hanging in another corner
was the iron hammer that, guided by
the hand of him who watched in the
tower, struck on the rim of the great
bell those clear, loud notes that kept
record Of the passing Of time over the