The Newtown bee., 1905-03-17
THE HOME CIRCLE.

THE HOME CIRCLE. TWO JACK FROSTS IN FEBRUARY. ONE WAS THE REAL VALENTINE. A
 TALE OF A CONNECTICUT NEIGHBOR'
 HOOD, QUITE A NUMBER OF YEARS
 AGO. WRITTEN BY E. F. G., FOR THE
 SPRINGFIELD (MAss.) SUNDAY RE
 PUBLICAN.l
 The two Jack Frosts. That was the way the townspeople of Salisbury used to refer to them, in the first years af- ter John Frost's orphaned nephew had come from the West to make his home with his uncle, the young village law yer. Then, as time went on, and the character of the younger John Frost became differentiated, the two men were popularly classified as "Good Jack Frost" and Bad Jack Frost" Lat terly, however, since the elder man had begun to win substantial honors for himself, while his western relative had defied all the conventionalities of sedate Salisbury, people spoke of them as Judge Frost and Wild Jack.
 There was not such a wide differ ence in their ages, as John Frost, ST., sometimes reflected in bitterness. Yet life for his nephew bade fair to be all youth; and charitable persons, refer ring to some new escapade of his, would remark lightly, "Oh, boys will be boys!"
 The elder man, looking backward, could scarcely remember a period of youth in his own life. There had been, to be sure, time in his exist ence when he was boy on his fathers farm. Since that far-away time the years had meant only struggles and trials and hard-fought battles for one office after another; until, at 39, he was Salisbury's town counsel, and his name appeared in the lists of directors of powerful corporations, as a director of the savings bank, and a member of the board of education. It was fa- miliar story enough; in working for success he had had no time to remem- Der that he was ever young.
 He marvelled at the matter-of-fact course way in which John, Junior, ac- cepted gifts of the gods which would have made his own head twirl.
 He, himself, has worked his way thr ough the local academy, and later had grubbed through the Jaw depart ment of the nearby college, winning his L L B., as martyr wins his crown. His nephew had entered college along the primrose path of youth, and good looks, and dirreproachable raiment; had dawdled through four years, figuring on the varsity football eleven, learn ing to thrum the mandolin, barely es- caping flunking at the end of every college year. After being graduated, he had entered his uncle's law office with the resignation of one who for the future must perforce bury himself alive. He was an enigma to the elder man, whose function in life seemed narrowing to the duty of paying his nephew's bills and supplying him with funds.
 It was natural that the affairs of the two men should interest the lo- cal gossips. Around the big cylinder stove in the grocery store at the Square, uncle and nephew came in for their share of attention, in regular or der.
 "The jedge is born old batch!' an nounced the leading spirit in the group.
 "I always flowed that he'd up an marry the Widow Clark, some fine mornin'" was the observation of an- other.
 "Well, the Widder's summered and wintered him since his partner, her husband, Abner Clark, was put under. She ought t. know his good an bad p'ints by this time!'
 "Marry Widow Clark! Not on your life!" protested the grocer's boy, who was sorting cranberries in more or less advanced state of decomposition, jealously watched by his employer. "The judge is dead gone on the wid- ow's daughter" e4L
 "Glong!"
 "On Kitty? Shucks! Kitty an Wild Jack'll pair off, some bright day!"
 "I don't think Anyway, the judge likes Kitty Clark! Why, I see him in the church on Decoration day, when she stood up in the choir to sing The Red, White and Blue,' an she was dressed all in white, like an angel! Cracky! But he looked at her like s he could a ct her without salt"
 "Oh, come ofI!'
 "Well, he did! 1 was sitting cross ways from him, and see his eyes sort O fill upl An she's good enough to eat! She's born lady, she is! know! I've seen her in the parlor and I've seen her in the kitchen; an if you want t. judge what wimmin is, you jest want to go drivin' grocery cart!"
 "Great Galushy! Listen t. Joel"
 "Say, Bub!" interrupted Joes en- ployer, with fine irony. "S'pose you take that air tin quart, an git them long legs O yourn daown cellar, an put some vinegar on them pickles to soak in the keg, that hev been screech- in fer moisture this week back!" and the abashed Joe fled precipitously, leaving the proprietor to more care lul sorting of his cranberries.
 "I've always fingered out that the