The times., 1898-09-18

This is the house that Jack built. Gray
with age and green with climbing vines,
with a sloping roof all over shingles and
moss, and an old-timey garden that ram
bles down to the beach. There are wide
halls that begin and end in breezy piazzas,
and the ancient chimney pots that start
ed out a peach-stone red, but are now as
black as sin-what one can see OF them
through the creepers-are hid in the dense
foliage of forest oaks that give the place
its name.
Everywhere you turn there are birds and
butterflies and Brahma chickens, and big,
brown humble bees, and as TO roses!
Why you couldn't match roses in all
Maryland, because Jack planted them,
and as he had once on time gone TO
the wars with crimson rose on his
shield, he sowed his seeds according. And
that is why every old bush in the garden
flames out from early spring to frosty
autumn in roses of blood bright red.
Yes, this is the house that Jack built.
and out in the church yard. a couple of
miles down the road, lies Jack himself,
and on his moldy old slab stone-also
gray with age and green with vines
anybody with particularly sharp eyes can
pick out enough family history from the
corroded script to learn that Jack and
his two warrior brothers had helped 10
frame the laws of the colonies, and had
died on land and sea in their defense.
Jack was an English ancestor, and his
broad acres and ancient roof tree had de-
mF7.aFT -.
us-the fag end of the line. / am the
Oldest Of the three; then comes Ned, who
is close on to thirty, and Rosey, who
is just turned nineteen and who has been
educated free of charge by a cousin who
IS nun. The old place is tumbling over
our ears, and the land has been worked
10 death, but there are plenty OF poor
folks this side of heaven, and we would
be happy enough if Ned hadn't gone and
borrowed 500 that he couldn't pay, and
then had to turn around and sell the
yoke Of oxen to keep up interest on the
note. You can't work a farm without
oxen, unless You have horses. And horses
we haven't got OF course. there's old
mare Nance, who forgot to die of old age
when the time came-but apart from
dawdling to church with US once a week
We get out and walk up the hills-she's
OF no earthly account
This is what has been worrying the
fo!ks that live in the house that Jack
built Ned, who has been working like
white slave season after season. with
out persuading decent crop out of the
ground, broke up all TO pieces when the
oxen went, so one twilight when / was
oo"h al the cowpen watching Aunt Ran
oy mix Old Bioss, he came up, and lean
1ns III dreary, dissatisfied way over the
DaTS. said voice ho.
queer along my spine bones:
Bett, I'm not going to stand this life
day longer The tobacco's planted now
ana you can run the farm with Uncle
Pomp and Randy just as well as if
was round. l mean to try my luck in
Washington, and if I ever make enough
10 free the farm, I'll come back again but
you are not going to lay eyes on me till
] Co" '--'
So he went off one blue and silver dawn
went on on a wild goose chase. / was
next 10 certain, for if We had failed to-
gether with our crops and poultry and
prayers, what good would rushing off at
the eleventh hour do with that bill fair
ly banging at the gate?
Not so long after Ned went there came
letter from Rose. Il was an everyesc-
ing little scrawl made up of Iovine, mes
sages for every live thing on the place.
from me TO Ponto-Ponto is a yellow
hound with feas-and a postscript To
know whether Aunt Randy would rather
have red or blue bandanna handker-
chief, and if she preferred pIaids or
stripes, or did she want it plainI
We don't use the word boss" down in
our part of the world, but if we did il
would describe Aunt Randy to a dot. As
lar back as can remember prefer not
10 say how far-Aunt Randy has loved