The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1902-05-30

elor until twice twenty-six years had
been passed in this vale.
After prayer meeting he walked home
alone and sank into a mahogany chair
that had been Newberry possession
for 200 years. His thoughts We're not
of furniture, however, but of a form
and a face that would have made a
kitchen chair look like piece of Chip
pendale.
He smoked his pipe out, and then he
retired, but not to sleep. His thoughts
now was returning from Newington.
That much he knew because he had
heard Mrs. Dibble tell Mrs. Harding,
with whom the schoolteacher boarded,
that she thought it was shocking for
her to come back on Sunday instead of
making an early start on Monday
morning.
1t lacked some minutes of 10 o'clock
when Trueman heard commotion out
side of his window. He sprang from
his bed and looked out. The moon was
at the full, and diaphanous cloud was
coquetting with it, but his eye did not
take in the beauty of the scene. All
that lie saw were the two mischief
makers, the Goodwin oxen, walking
around in his bed of dahlias. They had
already rolled OH his asters and had
torn down the beautiful wild cucum-
Der vines that covered the southern
wall of his house and had lessened by
half the pile of "pounder" apples that
he had purposed shipping to his mar
ried sister in New York for old times
sake.
Clad in his white cotton nightshirt
and with the red carpet slippers on his
feet that always stood at his bedside,
ready for instant use, this bachelor
leaped down the front stairs and pick
ed up as weapon the first thing that
came to hand, which happened to be a
feather duster that had belonged to his
grandmother and that had been mott
ing any time these fifty years.
He opened the front door, brandish-
ing 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 punch
ed 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 duster at them and
hit the nigh one amidships. The great
animal made a playful pass with his
hind legs and knocked potted fuchsia
Off 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 his treasured feath.
er duster and sprinted after them, his
drapery streaming in the wind, his red
slippers slapping his heels rhythmically
with each stride, and the feather duster
gyrating in the air like drum majors
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 re.
gained the space he had lost by falling,
and once more the feathered dart hur.
tied through the air in a manner sug.
gestive of bullfights, although it fell
short of it's mark.
He had not thought that oxen could
be so fleet but their fleetness would
but serve to put lengthy distance be.
tween them and his grounds. He would