The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1899-03-19

was sent Tor 10 snare the increasing
! nes-incidentally to lend a helping
hand in the running of the farm.
| And Joel-he was a shining example
of New England stagnation. Never in
| clined to marry, always content with a
kind of helpless dependence upon his
| brother and sister, whose home had not
been frightened by the advent Of chill
| dren, he grew more and more to be the
object of parental solicitude to the
farmer and his wife as the years
passed by. He was satisfied with his
unique position, and gradually the ho-
| rizon of his life cSyne to be bounded by
| the views and wishes of his foster par
ents.
Mrs. BirdselI was the first to break
! the oppressive silence. William" she
said, there's no use putin it off any
longer. Suppose we call Joel down now
this very nigrt-an' point out to him
| like-tell him-that is to say, ask
him She hesitated. The task
seemed greater when framed in words.
"Shr' The exclamation escaped the
pair at the same instant.
| In the chamber above the song began
again This time the words were loud
still doubtful. Silently the couple fol-
lowed the lines:
1 dreamt that dwelt in marble halls
Not a word was uttered until the
verse ended. Mrs. Birdsell was busy
making mental analysis of the mean
ing of the words-their import seemed
beyond a doubt.
It's a real gamblin' house tune" she
pronounced, with assurance born of
| conviction, although there was a trem-
bling in her voice. I've heard all
about the Internal places. All marble
an glass an electric lights an polished
I woodwork"
The squeaking, heavy footsteps grew
louder; the culprit was certainly COM
ing down the stairs. Next, the door
opened and he walked into the dining
room. Mrs. Birdsell looked straight in
| front of her. The deacon hastily
snS tched the Agriculturist from the
table.
Joel appeared surprised to find the
rest of the family keeping late hours.
Still settin' up?" he asked, innocently
enough, but in the ears of the others
1 the words had a guilty ring.
From the corners of her eyes, Mrs.
Birdsell was taking quiet inventory
of discriminating evidence. There was
| the red necktie encrcling the standup
collar that sagged out in tired fashion
at the front The long-tailed coat was
also conspicuous. She wished she had
had the forethought to put on her spec
tacles, for she knew that proper scru-
tiny would detect faint creases in front
of the bagging cray pants. AS for the
shoes-the noise on the stairs had al
ready told it's own story.
! well, L guess I'll walk out for a little
/ Bit he went on, taking no notice OF
the unusual restraint. THE skys as
clear as bell, an it seems just shame
full to stay in. Won't have many more
nights like this
| fOll al n
asleep" The deacon's voice grated
harshly, although he tried his best to
be natural.
"That's just one of your notions, Will
Ham," Joel answered with faint laugh
Come, now, nights just as good as
day, amt it? Don't fret about me. Just
leave the key to the dining room door
under the stone by the steps, an I'll
get in all right"
| There was no reply.
can that reminds me" the culprit
went on, the next time [ go to town
I'm goin' to take that key along with
me, an have one made like it. No use
talkin', a man ought to have a latch
kew ,, -i..
This last worldly whim, more signifi-
| cant than anything else-worse even
than the reckless get-up of the costume
fell with astounding weight on the
! farmer and his wife. 1t was nothing
less than the limit of moral deDravity.
In the suddenness of the shock there
was no chance for reply. Joel hesitated
a moment, then picked up his hat and
went out. dr.
The deacon and his wife remained
seated rigid with CONSERVATION, until
they heard him step off the porch. Then
with one accord they arose and tiptoed
to the parlor window. Peering out into
the darkness, they watched him walk
! through the yard to the gate, and then
| turn his steps in the direction of the
tavern, the lights of which twinkled
dimly half a mile away down the left
| fork of the road.
"The times come, Martha" the dea-
con burst out Joel will hear from me
the first thing tomorrow mornin'! He's
got to shut off his scand'lous, drunk
en- ways instanter, or by the Lord! he'll
never stay another day under my roof!'
Mrs. Birdsell was fairly struck dumb
before her husbands awful denuncia-
ton. 1t was the first time in her mar
ried life that he had so ruthlessly
broken the third commandment, and
| she laid herself down to broken sleep
and troubled dreams.
The first CLEAN of the rising sun was
already painting gold and purple hues
in the eastern sky when the deacon
slowly reused to the troubles of a new
day. Quickly throwing on his working
clothes, he fastened to the foot of the
stairs.
Joel" he called to the upper cham
Der, Joel, be stirrin'! The suns more'n
an hour hight We've oversight scand'-
| lous."
No answer came from above
JOEL" this time there was an angry
ring in the word
And still no answer
| The deacon did not call again, but
started briskly for the stables, his
| heavy boot heels making dark half-cir-
cles in the light frost that covered the
| ground. He was surprised again to find
the heavy doors thrown wide open to
! the morning breezes. Sounds We're issu-
ing from within, and, as he paused, he
heard his brother Joel's voice lifted in
song, the rhythm punctuated by the
steady Swish of milk against the bot
tom and sides of the tin milk can
The absolute uneXDectedness of the
situation caused the deacon to hesitate
! in doubt a. moment on the threshold.
Bending slightly forward and listening
attentively he managed to catch the
words:
Bet my money on the old mare,
Somebody bet on the gray
The doggerel had only one meaning to
the deacon. It was a, shameless defense
of horse racing, an unholy pastime into
which he had gained some insight
through the innocent medium of coun-
try fairs.
"Mornin', William" The greeting was
fresh and cheery-surely not spoken
with the languor that is supposed to
follow a night of debauchery. Guess
you kind of overslep' Must be you and
mother kept late hours
There's one way you might O. know
ed how late hours mother an me kept -
| The deacon'S answer bristled with
harsh insinuation, but it was all lost on
the erring one. Whistling softly to