The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1900-07-29

no doubt of that At 20 he was likely
to go the way that had seldom been
trod by a Newberry bachelor untiA
twice 20 years had been passed in this
vale.
After prayer meeting he walked home
alone and sank into a mahogany chair
that had been a Newberry possession
for 200 years. But his thoughts were
not of furniture, but of a form and
face that would have made a kitchen
chair look like a piece OF Chippendale.
He smoked his pipe out, and then he
retired. but not to sleep. His thoughts
were with Miss GraysOn, who even now
was returning from NeWington. That
much he knew, because he had heard
Mrs. Dibble tell Mrs. Harding, with
whom the school teacher boarded, that
she thought it was shocking for her to
come back on Sunday, instead of max
ing an early start on Monday morning.
1t lacked some minutes of 10 O'Clock
when Trueman heard a connection out
side of his window. He sprang from
his bed and looked out. The moon was
at the full, and a diaphanous cloud was
coquetting with it, but his eye did not
take in the beauty Of the scene. All
that he saw was the two mischief max
erS, the Goodwin oxen, walking around
in his bed of dahlias. They had al
ready rolled on his aSters and had torn
down the beautiful wild cucumber vines
that covered the southern wall of his
house, and had lessened by half the pile
of FOUNDER" apples that he had pur-
posed shipping to his married sister in
New York, for old times sake.
Clad in his white cotton night shirt
and with the red carpet slippers on his
feet for instant use, this bachelor
leaped down the front stairs and picked
up as a weapon the first thing that
came to hand, which happened to be d
feather buster that had belonged to his
grandmother, and which had been
mOulting any time these fifty years.
He opened the front door, brandishing
this terrible bludgeon, and the oxen
glanced mildly at him, and then ambled
through his sweet pea hedge, carrying
off garlands of flowers on their broad
horns. Then, as he pursued, they
punched holes in his well kept lawn,
marking their easy progress to the
street, where they stopped and looked
over their shoulders, and seemed to
smile at him.
This so enraged him that he deter
mined to chase them down the road as
far as he could. He forgot his scanty
clothing, forgot everything but the fact
that these veXatiOus beasts had ruined
his garden, and had then added insult
to injury by grinning at him. He might
have driven them into the Goodwin lot,
that lay across the way, but the fence
was newly torn, and it would have been
foolish to try penning them up for the
night. They were out for a lark, and
he would help them to one only it
should not be at his further expense.
So he hurled the buster at them, and
hit the nigh one amidships. The great
animal made a playful pass with his
hind legs, and knocked a pOtted fuchsia
off a stump with the ease of a pre-
miere danseuSe.
Trueman seized the broken pieces Of
the pot and hurled them at the wicked
pair and both were hit on the head.
And then the race began. With tossing
horns they tore southwark down the
road. He recovered mis- treasured feath-
er buster and, sprinted after them, his
drapery streaming in the wind, his red
slippers Shaping his heels rhythmicaIIy
with each stride and the feather buster
gyrating in the air like a drum major S
baton. Once he fell and marred the
snowy whiteness of his tOga, but q
jump and a shake and a plunge for
ward with lowered head and he had
regained the space he had lost by fall
ing. And once more the feathered dart
hurtled through the air in a manner
suggestive of bull fights, although II
fell short of its mark
He had not thought that oxen could
be so fleet, but their f1eetness would
but serve to put a lengthy distance be-
tween them and his grounds. He
would chase them to Canton if need
be. but they should not again disturb
his nocturnal musings or cry havoc and
let slip the dogs of war in his garden.
AS they crossed Tibball's b dge HI
dropped a slipper. He picked it up Il
hurl at the oxen, but true TO its name
it slipped from his fingers and wen
far astream. And that slipper haC
first belonged to his grandfather!
The oxen were not in the least blown
but he was, in every sense of the word
And his hair looked like a field of rye
through which a cyclone had passed
The night winds toyed with his liner
garment, and the stones in the rOaC
hurt his slipperless foot. 1t had beer
fifteen years since he had gone bare
foot. But to stop before his work wa
done was not like a NeWberry. ThD
churchvard was not far away, and h
would not leave them until they were
safe behind the high stone walls anC
six barred gate of the sanctuary of tn,
dead. They could restore some of tn
moss-covered inscriptions on the tomb
with their horns. or scratch new one
for all he cared, but they would no
trouble him again that night On spec
the strange trio, the red oxen and tn
man in white: past the BulkeleyS, pas
the DAYS. past the TraintOrs, past tn
! Goodspeeds, past the Bills. Then
sharp turn to the left, and they wer