The star. (Reynoldsville, Pa.) 1892-1946, 1908-04-29
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{ Timothy Ware
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BY RACHEL 3. HAMILTON. y
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BY RACHEL 3. HAMILTON.
$515951555G5aS451515159H

nfr. Timothy Ware stood at his gar
den gate and looked down the road.
You might have noticed him, perhaps,
as you passed along-a wrinkled,
keen-eyed, elderly man. Now elderli-
ness, take it, is further off from the
sweet ripeness and flavor of old age
than youth itself. To be elderly pre-
supposes some thinness of blood,
some sort of inexpressible poverty OF
nature, such as there seems to be all
about this region where 7. Wares
house is located-a range of long,
low-lying, uneasy hillocks that could
never settle themselves to anything;
a sandy, incapable stretch of thread
bare grass and stunted woodland.
; 1t was not an easy thing to imagine
that Just over the south ridge lay
smiling and fruitful country, thrifty
settlement of Quaker farmers, who
held themselves, perhaps, little too
much aloof from this inhospitable
neighborhood.
ts 1t was a chill October afternoon,
and the low slant rays of the setting
sun looked furtively out from blue
black ridge of cloud over the garden
and the gardens owner. There had
been frost overnight, which had
wiped out almost every lingering ves-
tige of summertime. A few elderly
beans clung shrinkingly to their poles
In the bleak background; a scanty
patch of corn rustled its sere leaves
9orlornly in the wind, with here and
there pumpkin ripening sparsely
between, and turning out its yellow
rotundity to the sun, as resolved to
put the best face on things that was
possible; while, tall and stark, row
of sunfowers, tapping gauntly above
the hedge, overlooked the desolation.
h, AS old Ware stood there at his gate
md looked about him, with his faded
red cap on his head and his lank
dressing-gown clinging about him, he
seemed verify a part of the FROST
bitten scene, illustrating it feebly, like
Rn ill-cut frontispiece in a badly
printed volume. Yet there was a ira
dition that he had once upon a time
been the chief figure in a great con-
rern somewhere in town, and that in
some forgotten period long ago the
old weather-beaten house had flaunt-
ed gayly in new coat of paint and
bright green shutters, and was bright
with new carpets and curtains to well
come coming bride. But all that
was so far away now that people had
forgotten the date, and could not re-
call that they had ever been inter-
ested in anything concerning old
Ware
Tin Ware, Esq, the boys called
him-a nickname based, perhaps, on
a floating legend of miser-made
wealth slowed somewhere away in
the loose clap-boarding of his tene-
ment, or perhaps intended briefly to
bear testimony to the value set upon
him in the community-Tin Ware,
Esq, was not popular man among
the lads Of the village. They had a
persistent inclination to hoot him, to
gibe at him, and to torment his lean,
ill-tempered dog, which followed his
master everywhere with a snarling
and Objectionable faithfulness. The
boys, considering all these things,
felt themselves called upon to vindi-
cate the claims of justice by robbing
old Wares orchard and breaking into
his melon patch. Things in this way
were brought to sort of balance. l
myself saw one day, as l passed his
fence. huge charcoal placard, read
ing thus:
r. B. Ware of The DAWG.
And many bare-legged youngster, l
have no doubt, hid snickering in the
hedge at the sight of old Ware slowly
deciphering the scrawl in wrathful
Bpectacles.
But very few besides the boys ever
troubled the old man with attentions
either for good or i'll. He seemed to
have slipped from the mind of both
men and fate-an elderly, shrivelled
old figure whom Time had forgotten
to dignity with gray hair.
He looked up and down the road
keenly with his frosty blue eye, not
as man who expected anything OF
anybody, but simply because it was
his habit to look sharply. And YET
as this northeasterly glance swept the
road, there came along it something
far from unpleasant to look upon-a
gray figure in a Quaker bonnet
There would have been a smile OF
welcome in almost anybody's eye as
the plump, quiet Quaker face of Re.
becca Rhodes approached, but not 9
spark kindled in old Wares finty
gray orbs.
Rebecca's well-kept acres Law iust
beyond him, over the south ridge. and
Rll about her farmhouse was trim and
tidy, clean and wholesome. as Re
becca herself. 1t must have been the
love of contrast that brought he,
In range of Timothy's dilapidated sur
roundings; but of all living thing,
In the village Rebecca alone had 8
good word for him, and stopped of ar
odd afternoon now and then to wist
him -good-day over the gate.
Il have brought thee a loaf n