The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1898-05-18
THE SYRINGA HOME
By MAX BENNETT THRASHER.
THE windows of the little church at

Pebbly Center were open, and the
soft, June breeze, passing through the
audience room, tiuttered the leaves of
the hymn book which rested on the
rack of the cottage organ in the choir.
The air in the church was sweet with
the perfume of flowers, for it was chill
dren's Sunday" roses, syringa, jon
quils, from the farmhouse gardens;
ferns and clematis from the woods.
The pulpit, covered with mass of
greenish-white clematis, rose from a
bank of ferns. On little stand at the
side some one had placed a huge vase,
filed with mountain fringe, and the
long, delicate stems, loaded with trem-
bling pink blossoms, moved softly in
the wind.
The opening services of the day had
beeen gone through with, and hush
had fallen on the congregation. Pebbly
Center had only that one church, and,
as there had never been any of those
violent spiritual dissensions which keep
half the inhabitants of place away
from church because the other half
large, was generally well filed.
The pastor, dear old man, with a
benignant face, and voice which was
in itself benediction, came down from
the pulpit to meet the little procession
which ranged itself in a semicircle be-
fore the fower-dressed pulpit.
I do not remember much more about
Sho hot -hor
among the number, the pastor poised
his hand to say: "Syringa May Elton,
baptize thee" The first name seemed
SO odd that it attracted my attention,
and yet, in the fower-decked church,
with syringa bushes full of blossoms in
the yards outside, it seemed appro-
pirate.
] was new to Pebbly Center then.
That was the first summer had spent
there, and at that time l had been in
the town less than a week. l boarded
that summer with the Jehoram Fen
nels. They were always spoken of in
that way to distinguish them from the
family of Jehoram's brother Silas.
After dinner went out to sit on the
big front door step. There was trel-
lis built over this step, covered with
woodbine, and, barring the occasional
descent from this of a harmless green
spider, it was quite the pleasantest
place about the house. had mag
azine in my hands, but it had been SO
much more satisfactory merely to lean
back against the trellis and gaze off
ever the huge valley and the roll of hills
beyond, that 1 had done nothing but
this when Mrs. Jehoram Fennel, having
cleared away the dinner and washed the
dishes, drew a cane-seat rocking-chaiI
into the front hall and sat down to join
me. Her husband had already retired
to the one bit of daytime rest which his
long, hard days work allowed him, and
his regular and not-too-loud-for-co
fort breathing from the lounge in the
sitting-room showed how thoroughly
he was enjoying it.
Mrs. Fennel brought with her palm
leaf fan and the last number of a re
ligious paper. She had never read any
thing but religious literature on Sun
day; and fancied she looked somewhat
askance now at the magazine in my
hands.
Perhaps it was to PROPOSES her
against my evident intention to reat
this, by showing what good attention
I had paid in church, that fastened to
say:
.What in the world made them name
that fourth baby in the row 'Syringa,
Mrs. Fennel? Such funny name for {
baby. After all, though, it's rather {
pretty name"
Mrs. Fennel gave little chuckle, ant
said: ooh, that's the Elton baby! Hsl
mother was Sophie Ann Fosdick, an
they live to her home. That's the Eos
dick place over there" pointing to q
set of buildings about mile away.
'It's the first grandchild the Fosdicl!
have had"-Mrs. Jehoram Fennel wa!
the proud possessor of four. Sophie