The Van Buren press., 1898-12-03


over icy paths and through the shift
ing drifts, and Joanna assisting John
over harder paths in the spelling book
Whispering words to him as they sat
together on the lower form. And
John often had a juicy apple for Jo-
anna, or she a handful of nuts for
him. In summer days they led a
sweet, wild life together, fishing for
the little minnows in the river, reach
ing for the cowslips or the flags that
grew in the swamp, and when they
Older grew, they met in the cleaning
and talked of many things. And then
one night when the mated birds sang
softly in the thicket, when a thrush
poured forth a flood of melody in the
forest and whip-poor-will Knocked
insistently by the riverside, John and
Joanna watched the mating birds and
told to one another the old, old story.
NO painting tells us now of Joanna's
charms. Not even a silhouette remains
to show US Johns stronger face Only
tradition has handed down their story
and we are left to picture to ourselves
the rosy cheek and laughing eyes that
had charmed Johns willing mind. and
the strong, firm figure and honest face
that made him Joanna's hero. Their
ambition was not to move in wider
world; Valley Shut-ln was quite wide
enough fer the home they longed for,
and the hills failed to shut them in,
when they and their love were left to-
gether. So, In happy disregard of world
ly echoes, they began the preparation
for the home that was TO be. John for
many months worked for others, earn
ing the humble pttanee that was laid
away to build the house on land his
father gave him in Valley shut-In. Jo-
anna spun and wove the wool and flax
her mother gave her, and then searched
the pastures over, far and near, picking
up the feathers that the geese had
dropped. gathering the wool from the
bushes where the sheep had scratched,
meanwhile building castles in the air.
And when the summer came each
year and the birds mated again, John
in the trystng place asked Joanna
when the day should be, and every
year for ten long years Joanna said:
Not yet; ! am not ready yet" But
at last, in the midst of the loneliness
of Valley Shut-In, a roof was seen and
then little later in the dusk of a
midsummer evening, when the whip.
poor-will was singing. by the light of
a midsummer moon and the glimmer
of myriads of freflies, Joanna and
John came down the hill, through the
path that was shaded by trees, and the
light of home cleaned across the val
ley and made its loneliness flee away.
John had chopped the trees that
made the beams, had built the huge
brick chimney, had placed the glass in
the little windows, and dragged from
the ledge stone for the doorway.
Joanna had filled the shelves of the
cupboard with linen and wool and the
beds with feathers gathered in many
ways. She had planted ferns and flow
ers around the doorway and trained a
growing woodbine across the little
porch. John had fashioned many a
piece of homely furniture, cherry
! table, a chair of gnarled tree trunks,
a chest and a settle for the fireplace,
and shingle scoops for dipping meal
from the bin and wooden spoons for
Joanna's use. And when they began
their life together a pair of wrens
built a nest in the doorway where the
woodbine grew.
For one short year they lived with
the spirits Of love and content in hap
py Valley Shut-In, but when the suns
and shadows Of that short year had
passed. in the midst of the budding of
the leaves and flowers, the mating of
the birds and the death Of a dearer
hope. Joanna slept the sleep that
knows no waking and John roamed
alone in a wider valley.
The latch-string was never pulled in
the door of Desolate Cottage, and the
wrens few away never TO return.
The thrushes still sing Of love in
the forest, the whip-poor-will still
calls by the river, the clouds float over
the valley, the waters tell their story
but only the winds from the mountain
side ever rocked the cradle in Desolate
Cottage of Valley Shut-In.-Spring-
field (Mass.) Republican.