The Republican journal., 1914-11-19


the rest. All went well until a certain
digplfied young gentleman of the class,
who is now prosperous business man in
the west, gave US specimen upon which
there were many and various opinions
Miss Starrett herself sided with those
wise ones who pronounced the peculiar
looking thing an agate. Then the stone
was returned to its fortunate discoverer,
and with bated breath the class respect
fully awaited developments; for among
all the stones produced no stone was so
remark able as this stone, or had excited
such interest. ''And now, Mr.. K, what,
in your opinion, is this stone?" "Well, "
drawled Walter, at looks to me Just
like piece of spruce gum" Sure
enough, piece of spruce gum it proved
to be, and the audacity of the joke was
SUCH that even our discounted teacher
joined in the laugh which followed.
Long ago Miss Starrett entered
1.-The undiscovered country. from whose bourn
no traveller returns"
And my classmates are scattered far
and wide; but those of them who may
chance to read this article will, / am
sure, agree with me that this Christian
woman s strong personality and conscien-
tious teaching has been refining and
benignant influence in our lives.
These "reminiscences and reflections
arose today from reading those opening
lines of "Marmion," and now as my gaze
wanders to the window the lines apply
too we'll to the landscape outside. Not
even the thought of the approaching
Thanksgiving dinner can paint the No
vember world in attractive colors. The
fields are brown, the branches are bare,
the sky is gray-and the winds are chill
and drear 1t is no use, Dear journal,
trying to be loyal to Maine and her eli
mate. Maine is perfect in every other
respect, and suits me, from her prohlbl-
ton law to her pine forests and clam
flats: but when it comes to her winter
weather l give her up. l denounce,
scorn, condemn and flee from a winter
in Maine. Already have been Shut up
in the house for a week, more than half
sick with cold; if had not been afraid
of running kerplunk into German war;
ship, or the foot and mouth disease, or a
political situation, or some other dreadful
thing that the newspapers are filled with,
l should have packed up and started for
the sunny south. AS it is, the chimney
corner is a good place just at present,
and November weather can be borne
better than "the worst is yet to come"
atmosphere that seems to be everywhere
outside of Maine. Lately new disease
of the nerves called Phobophobia has
been discovered. Phobophobia is the
fear of fear-and if the world wags on
until spring as it is wagging at present,
it seems to me that the most of US will
get touch of Phobophobia.
These November musings take strange
flights. From foreign wars and Phobo-
phobia my thoughts turn to the little
family burying ground which l visited a
week or more ago. A place of tangled
grasses, rank thorny blackberry vines
and bushes, and sodden leaves. AS l
stood there, thinking of the changes
which time has wrought in Citypo;nt
within my own recollection, and of the
greater changes since these people were
living, a memory came to me. The
memory of a man of grand and noble
type, one of Belfast's most honored clti-
zens, who himself passed long ago into
the great Beyond. l remember his
whimsical smile, as speaking one day OF
his boyhood at Citypoint he said: "We
boys used to steal her apples-not that
we wanted the apples. They were mean,
sour things-but it was such fu'. to see
the big frill on her nigatcap when she
stuck her head out of the window to
drive US away" Poor lady of the frill!
Little matters it to you in your grave
under the broken headstone what be-
came of your sour apples seventy years
ago.
A few days ago | received note from
Capt. George T. Osborne of the Upper
Bridge, promising me details concerning
the old cellar and discontinued road, or
lane, as he calls it, on Patterson Hill, to
which l referred in my last letter. Capt.
Osborne owns the land, and no doubt
can tell me something of interest about
the old days, which hope to be able
later to write for you. together with
items about some of the other old land
marks in this vicinity. R. T. NEWELL.