The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1914-08-18

sessions. One by one they dispose of
unnecessary things. The belle of 80
years ago, who took a dozen trunks
and boxes with her to make months
visit, at seventy-f1ve generally has an
oldfashioned bureau full Of necessa-
ries, and, locked away IN a little
trunh. handful OF letters ana senti-
mental tribes And 30 with GRANDPA
TIER Huxley he possessions Of a
lifetime had dwtndled to huge up
holstered chair. with which he de-
family refused to part. and his old
sword.
the sword hung in its scabbard just
across from the old mans bed, where,
IN the sleepless hours that come to
age, he could lie and dream about 1t.
From much tramping and dragging
the scabbard was worn away at one
corner; 1t was that corner which gave
Grandfather Huxley his dreams of
long-ago marches through cactus
plains and desert, his Nightmares of
long-ago thirst and heat.
Below the sword was his wife's pic
ture. There was another portrait of
her In the room; photograph taken
when her cheeks were furrowed and
her thin, white hair parted and
crimped; but. oddly enough. he never
looked at that one. He was very,
very old, and he lived in his youth
Everything between was hazy and
dim. The picture at which he looked
was that Of girl, little. old water
color of girl with thoughtful eyes
and frivolous hafr.
After his ninetieth birthday Grand
father Huxley became abnormally SEN
sitive. Sometimes he could hear
scraps Of conversation about him.
"And how old is the old man today?
It's almost uncanny, isn't it!"
"Oh. he's always. Just the same
But in the nature of things he won't
be with. us very long"
One day some army officers dined
at the house. Grandfather Huxley pol
ished his sword until It glittered, and
fixed his white neckcloth with trem-
bling fingers. At the table the CONVEX
sation turned to things military, and
the old man, filed with Are, told Of
that wonderful campaign of 1S47. The
officers listened respectfully-they
were gallant fellows; but when Grand
father Huxley dropped back In his
chair he heard the apologize voice of
his great-granddaughter, Ellen, across
the table.
Hes dear old soul" she said,
but getting childish now; go on with
what you were saying"
After dinner the old man went up
stairs. He took the shining sword
from his bed and fingered 1t lovingly.
Il guess you and / have lived past
our time" he said huskily, and then
he reached for his handkerchief and
polished away carefully spot OF
moisture that might have been a
tear.
That night an idea seized him. He
was OF no use In the world: no one
depended on him. no one needed him.
He had lived % years past his al
lotted. time; perhaps the good Lord
had forgotten him. There could be
no harm in taking a life that was
nothing but burden. And so. the
next day, he began his pitifully few
preparations. He sorted out his let
ters. and. finding none that he cared
to have profaned by alien eyes, he
burned them oil. He went over his
wardrobe and decided that Mike. the,
gardener, should have his winter coat.
When It came to his most cherished
possesston-the sword-doubts as
sailed him; so few were worthy of the
honor Finally. however. he decided to
give 1t to Ellen's husband. After all,
they had been kind to him; It was
not their fault that they lived in a frl-
ture In which he could have no share,
and that he lived in past which
they had never known. So he wrote
a little card. ITO my granddaughter
Ellen's husband" and tied 1t to the
His preparations were made now
The sleeping-mixture stood on his
bedroom table-an overdosei and
when Ellen came back from the the
alter that night he would be asleep
as he should have been long ago.
He put on a clean neckerchief, and.
sitting down in his big chair with the
sword on his knees, listened for the
slamming of the hall door below. The
little wooden clock on the mantei,
with the queer pink roses on the face,
marked eight, fve minutes past, ten
past; and still the family had
not gone out. The old man sat and
hought-thought of the day he was
married; OF long ago Christmases and
rows Of little stockings; of children
that had never lived to grow up; and
then, with the sword before him, Of
Buena Vista and Monterey.
After time he began to feel hun
CRY. He remembered that there had
been cream cakes for dinner, and that
he had refused them. They we're
very nice, those little cream cakes !
but then, after all, what did it mat
ter? If they would only go out
Grandfather Huxley sat looking at |
The picture hanging under the unfad-
cd spot on the wall paper which
marked the swords resting place. At,
Ter a little the picture faded and
grew misty in outline. The old mans
head dropped on his chest, and he
was asleep. The fire burned to a
dull red. bursting now and again into
smoking Jet OF fame. shining on the
sword across the old mans knees, on
The bottle beside the bed, and the mar
row, dropping chin Of the sleeper.
He wakened with a start. The
crust over the smoldering Goals had
'allen In and the room was bright
From somewhere below was audible
, faint creaking cry. wall that beat
against the ear insistingly, that
paused for a second. to go on with
fresh vigor.
Grandfather Huxley looked at the
clock. 1t was 1890. SO Ellen was not
It home. He listened for Nora's step. |
Hearing no one, he got up heavily
Ind went to the head of the stairs.
The cries kept on. longer now. with