Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1916-02-14

C -aCATS 4 ~ Y
Red Hill was hemmed In by the
breathing sllences of scattered woods,
open fields and the far reaches of
misty space, as though it were In hid
ing from the railroads, mills and high
ways of an age Of hurry. Upon its
long, level crest 1t bore but three GEN.
ters of life and q symbol-Maple
house, the Firs and Elm house, half
hidden from the road by their distinc-
tive trees but as alive as the warm
eyes OF yelled woman; and the
church.
The church was but a symbol-a
mere shell. Within, 1t presented the
appearance Of a lumber room in dis
use, a playground for rats and a ha-
ven for dust. But without all was as
it had ever been, for the old church
was still beloved. Its fresh, white
walls and green shutters and the aspir-
ing steeple, towering into the blue,
denied neglect and robbed abandon
ment Of its sting.
In the shadow of its walls lay an old
graveyard whose overgrown soil had
long been undisturbed. Along the
single road which cut the crest of the
hill from north to south were ruins
OF houses that once had sheltered the
scattered congregation. But the ruins
were hard to find, for they, too, were
overgrown by juniper, clematis and q
crowding thicket of mountain ash.
On these evidences OF death and en-
croachment the old church seemed to
turn its back as If by right of its fresh
walls and uEbroken steeple it were
still linked to life. Through its small
paned windows it seemed to gaze con-
tentedly across tie road at three
houses, widely separated. that half
faced it in a diminishing perspective.
The three houses looked toward the
sunrise; the church toward its de-
cline.
On day in early spring Alan Wayne
was summoned to Fed Hill Snow still
hung in the crevicss of East Noun
tain. On the hill the ashes, after the
total eclipse OF winter, were meekly
donning pale green. The elms of Elm
house, too, were but family outlined In
verdure. Farther down the road the
naples stretched out bare. black limbs.
Only the frs, in a phalanx, scoffed at
the general spring cleaning and looked
old and sullen in consequence.
The colts, driven by Alan Wayne,
flashed over the brim of Red Hill on to
the level top. Coachman Joe's Jaw
was hanging in awe and so had hung
since Mr.. Alan had taken the reins.
For the first time in their FIVE years
Of equal life the colts had felt the
cut of a whip, not in anger but as a
reproof for breaking. Coachman Joe
had braced himself for the bolt, his
hands itching to snatch the reins. But
there bad been no boiling, only a sud-
den settling down to business.
For the first time in their lives the
colts were being pushed, steadily,
evenly, almost-but never quite-to
the breaking point. Twice in the long
drive Joe gathered up his jaw and
turned his head, preparing spoken
tribute to master hand. But there
was no speaking to Mr. Alan's face. At
that moment Joe was a part Of the
seat to Mr.. Alan, and. being a coach
man OF long standing in the family, he
knew 1t.
Couldn't OF got here quicker il he'd
let 'em bolt" said he. in subsequent
description to the stable hand and the
cook. He snatched up pail Of water
and poured it steadily on the ground.
Jest like that. He knew what was
In the colts the minute he laid hands
on 'em, and when he pulls 'em up at
the barn door there wasn't a drop left
In their buckets, was there, Arthur?'
Mary DROP said Arthur, stable
hand.
"And his face" continued the coach
man. Most times Mr.. Alan has no
eyes to speak of, but today and that
time Miss Nance struck him with the
hatpln-'member, cook ?-his eyes
spread like FIRE and eat up his face.
This is a black day for the Hill. Some
thin's going to happen. You mark
me-"
In truth Mr.. Alan Wayne had been
summoned in no equivocal terms and,
for all his haste. it was with nervous
step he approached the house.
Maple house sheltered a mixed
brood. ]. Y. Wayne. seconded by Mrs.
]. z, was the head of the family