The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1902-03-26


den, three days in his grave, could
have heard the comments which fol
lowed the reading of his will he would
probably have chuckled just as he had
done in bygone days when his neigh
bors had discussed his domestic or
business affairs
The will was a marvel of simplicity,
and Judge Barrow declared that no
court on earth would set 1t aside.
Nevertheless the women who loved
Lucy Leyden for her gentle disposition
and kindly heart openly grieved. The
men who had admired John Will
loughby's brave struggle against heavy
odds swore at the deceased roundly
for stubborn meddler with fate.
Even Miss Polly Fowler, who had
taught them both at the little red
schoolhouse, had been heard to remark
In tone not wholly devoid of fear at
her own "brashness" that, while she
didn't wish anybody bad luck, she
shouldn't shed tears IL she heard Hen
ry Leyden had met his "come-uppance"
in the next world.
But the fact remained that the dead
man had bequeathed his stock in the
Decatur and Leydenville road to his
nephew, Ben Morris; his stock in the
| Leydenville bank to a distant home
for cripples (Henry Leyden had been
afflicted from birth with a clubfoot),
and, after a few scattered requests to
distant relatives, to Lucy he had left
only the old homestead and all per-
sonal property found thereon at the
time Of his death.
This at least assured Lucy and her
| mother the same refuge that had been
open to them ten years before. when
George Leyden went the way of prod.
| igal sons, leaving the two women to
the mercies of his crotchety but
wealthy brother. But the income that
had supported the homestead died with
| its owner, and the question of how II
was to be kept up agitated all Leyden-
vile.
Lucy and John Willoughby had been
engaged for four years, but the girls
uncle had stood firmly against the mar
riage. John had a mother and two
sisters dependent upon him. He could
not add to this burden, and the shrewd
banker proposed to adopt no nephew
in-law, however worthy the young man
might be.
The two young people did not at
tempt to veil their disappointment, but
they had more serious matters on
hand. The handsome house, tucked
tn m hltc
tion of the town, yielded not n cent of
income. Mrs Leyden was one of the
elinging, dependent sort Of women, and
Lucy knew that she must face the
problem alone
John suggested that they sell the
place and, taking small cottage, live
off the income of safe, conservative
investment of the balance. But Lucy
protested against the sacrilege. She
knew that 1t was her uncles wish that
she should continue to occupy the old
house.
Lucy thought they might take room
ers and boarders, but John pictured
the pert young clerks from the freight
offices or the dapper youths from the
Boston stoor" waited upon by his
Lucy. and the plan died n violent
death. 1t was Mrs. Leyden-limp,
phlegmatic Mrs. Leyden-who finally
solved the problem.
"You amt thought OF the library,
Lucy. You remember how your Uncle
Henry always talked about 1t. He had
been years collecting those old books.
Lots of them go as far back as the
Revolution, and some of the oldest
were printed in England before there
was any America. Don't you remem-
Der how he used to walk up and down
this room and shake his head at the
books, saying, Emmy, there's thou
sands In this room, thousands' l
know he paid ridiculous prices for
some of them. Maybe there's others
as daffy about old books rs he was"
Johns face frightened, and he took
both of Lucy's hands in his.
'That's it, Lucy. Well have buyer
come up from the city and look them
over. There may be fortune in them,
and you need money more than those
musty old things"
Lucy did not answer at once. There
was strong strain of sentiment In
her nature, and she loved especially
this old library where her uncle had
spent his last days.
Nevertheless that night she indited
letter to a noted collector in Boston
and two days later received a note stat
ing that Mr.. Henry Leyden's library
was famous enough to warrant his
sending a representative to Leyden-
vile. His buyer would arrive the fol-
lowing morning.
And that night came the deluge.
Lucy was Sitting up" with Mrs. Hen
derson's little boy, who had typhoid
fever. John was to call for her at IL,
when another neighbor would take up
the task.
At 10 the fire bell rang. Something
told Lucy it was her home, and she
sprang to her feet. 1t was half mile
run, and when she reached there,
breathless, the bucket brigade, enforc-
ed by the one engine the town could
boast, had done its worst. The parlor
was blackened and water soaked, the
dining room was charred, and the
library? Lucy pushed past sympathetic
neighbors and stared wildly into the
room. The shelves were bare!
The world seemed to spin around her,
and ont of fha mist carno Iohn,e yoica