The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1898-12-02

Nv va AZ '''to t9NSN DSiSiN '''AN
gar was made, and would be better
without it," answered Ruth, with
| decision.
Ruth would never hand e a glass of
cider from that hour; but Friend Petit
| john had received no such detiuite
| message as his wife, aud used some
times to treat a thirsty Indian in
| husking time, when she was not on
her guard.
There was one poor Indian, named
| WCrmsley, who had become IL hard
| cider drinker. Ia him the old cider
| produced intoxication, with great
| violence OF temper, and was followed
! by an inordinate thirst Tor more. He
would come 30 MISTRESS Pettijohn's
| door and stand there by the hour
witt! imploring eyes.
| The good woman would come to the
| door, and raising her rOllinG-pin or
| carving knife over her head, say:
What does thee want, WormsIey?"
"Otd mug, for the last timen'
NO, WCrmsley, I've had Il message.
Go away.
| One autumn morning, not long be-
| fore the Puritan festival, Friend Pet
tijohn found old Wormsley atthe door
very early il the morning. The In
dian stood and stared.
wei, Wormsley, is thee here?"
Indian thirsty-old mug
| No, Wormsley.o
| Indian Sick-old mugn
! mo. Wormsley; white squaw says
no. Not right, Wormsley; all wrong
| No. no. Thee must 60"
, "Old mug for the Lords sake. For
the last rme!" The Indian fingered
piteously.
Fflal.u Pettiiohn WAS tender
hearted man. lie looked back to his
warm rooms, and saw the half-naked
| Indian standing there i'll the cold, with
Il basket on his arm.
Come on Thanksgiving day, Worm
siey, and will fill your basket
with old mug?" The Indians eyes
| glowed.
The Qraker's heart grew weak with
| pity, and :. queer expression passed
over his face.
Yes, Wormsley, l will pour it into
your basket. That is the place for it..
Always bring Il basket when thee
comes for cider. So it shall be like
water poured upon the ground, never
to be gathered up"
You give old mug in basket?
| Good"
Yes, Wormsley, all the cider thy
basket will hold, and better things, too.
Give me thy basket now. l will fill il
with victuals. Then thee must 60.
| White squaw is right, Wormsley. She
had q message. Thee can't have any
more cider than basket will carry"
Friend Pettiiohn took the basket
from the Indians arm, fillei it with
food. and returned it, repeating,
| "Wormsiey, 60"
Thanksgiving day l come. Bring
the basket for old mug"
| There was twinkle in his eye.
| The Quaker saw it. Ruth saw il, too,
from the window. As her husband
came in she said:
| John, what has thee promised himY
| "OnIy to fill his basket with cider Oh
Thanksgiving day. But an Indian
basket don't hold cider. It'll all ran
out"
What made him look so happy -
There's something wrong in thy
| promise. John"
She ran to the door, flung it open and
called:
"Wormslev, Wcrmsley, come back
| Come back What basket is thee
going to bring us on Thanksgiving
day p
same basket-same one"
That's right, WormsIey. Thee
must bring that same basket and nC
other. Thee understands -
me understand. John fill it with
old mug, for the last time. Me under,
stand Then he fastened away.
Thanksgiving day fell gray and cold
The trees glimmered with frost. The
streams were bridgeL with ice, and the
northern air cut keenly the faces OF
the chorPmen as they went to the barns
and cattle-sheds.
The preparations for Thanksgiving
in the thrifty Quaker home had been
as liberal as usual The great ovens
were full of brown bread, roast apples
roast game and beef, pies, gingerbread
and Indian and sweet-apple buildings
| Mistress Ruth rose early. 1t was tC
be busy day. She opened her Bible
glanced at d text for silent meditation
and taking up the shovel, opened the
oven.
Rap! rap. rap came a knock al
the door.
John, get up, and 90 to the door y
said his wife, and the good Quaker
rose.
Rap. rap. rap! came the knock
again, hard and impatient.
"Wormsley, perhaps. will look
out of the window" said Mistress
Ruth. She raised the curtain anG
looked out.
80, John John !" She drew back
and flung up her hands in distress.
What, Ruth?'
Its Wormsley with his basket TO
old cider"
well, he is welcome to all it will
hold"
1T will hold gallons. Go out anc
see. Oh, thy rash promise Oh, tina
thee had the sense of woman
l never yet was caught in any snare o
the adversary like that John, thu
upper story is empty. Hurry and Sc
/ that basket"
Friend Pettijohn went to the doc
and pulled hard to open it, for fros
had settled in the edges.
"Everything sticks this morning |
, is cold,n said the good Quaker as h
went to behold the Indians basket
There stood Wormsley. He had hi
5 basket on his arm.
r Same basket" said the Indian
= with beaming face.
$ "Wha-a-at!n cried the Quaker.
"OId mug. Fill basket. Sam
! basket; me dip him. Water sticks
/ john promise--iill himr'
5 LET me look at it," said the bewild
cred Quaker.
: Wormsley handed him the basket
! | How beautiful it shone in the sur
A light. 1t was basket of crystal. /
a would hold water or cider, or an
/ liquid.
= Wormsley had dipped it again an
a again i'll a half frozen stream, and afte
/ each immersion had left it to freeze
d All its chinks were filled in and froze
as solid as glass, and the coat wa
d thick enough so that the liquor woul
/ not soon melt a hole through it.
r The Quaker looked at his wife, VIII
e stood holding a tire-shovel high in al
e y shrewd look came into her face.
II "Wormsley, she said, thee come il
e and sit down by the fire. Thee con
d in. and hear the kettles sing ~
/ The Indian entered. He held tt
. basket close to his blanket, and Won
It not give it up. He took a chair in
dark, cold corner of the great room
G Thee sit up to the fire, Wormse
/ and hear the kettle sing on Thank
II giving day
Lg Indian cold.n
1