The diamond drill., 1919-03-15

was living there and that q great
change had come over her. So went
ashore and hired horse Of the ferry
man.
passed through Mlddlebury and
rode into the grounds of the college.
where the senator had been educated.
and on out TO weybridge TO see where
he had lived as a boy. i found the
Wright homestead--a comfortable
white house at the head of a beautiful
valley with wooded hills behind it
and rode up to the door. A white
haired old lady In a black lace cap
was sitting on Its porch looking out
at the sunlit fields.
as this where Senator Wright lived
when he was boy?" / asked.
"Yes, SIR" the old lady answered.
81 am from Canton"
She rose from her chair.
"You from Cantonl" she exclaimed.
why. OF oil things That's where my
boys home is. I'm glad TO see you. Go
an put your horse In the barn."
dismounted and she came near me.
"Silas Wright Is my boy" she said.
What is your manner"
Barton Baynes," answered as I
hitched my horse.
Barton Baynesl Why, Silas has
told me all about you I'm his letters.
He writes to me every week. Come
and sit down."
We sat down together on the porch.
"Silas wrote I'm his last letter that
you were going TO leave your place in
Cobleskill," she continued to my sur
prise. "He said that he was glad you
had decided not to stay"
/ It was joyful news to me, for the
senator's silence had worried me and
had begun to think With alarm OF my
future.
81 wish that he would take you to
Washington TO help him. The poor
man has too much to do"
( 81 should think 1t great privilege
10 CO." ! answered.
"My boy likes you," she went on.
"You have been brought up just as he
was. used 10 read 10 him every eve
ming when the candles were lit. How
hard he worked TO make man of him
self! / have known the mothers Joy.
can truly say, Now let thy servant
depart in peace"
"'For mine eyes have seen thy sal
vation," | quoted.
"You see / know much about You
and much about your aunt and uncle"
said Mrs. Wright.
She left me for moment and soon
the whole household was gathered
about me ON the porch. the men hav-
ing come up from the fields. They put
my horse I'm the barn and pressed me
TO stay for dinner, which l did. AS
was going the gentle old lady gave
me pair OF mittens which her dlstin-
guished son had worn during his last
winter In college. / remember we'll
how tenderly she handled theml
II hope that Sllas will get you to
help him"-those were the last words
she said 10 me when bade her good
by
The shadows were long when l got
10 Canterbury. At the head of Its
main street looked down upon a vii
lage green and some fine old elms. II
was singulDriy quiet place. / stopped
In front OF zig white meeting house.
An old man was moving In it's grave
yard near the highway. Slowly he
swung his scythe
do you know where Kate Fullerton
llvesT" | asked.
"Well, it's purity likely that do" he
answered as he stood resting on his
sEnth. 1--WE lived seventy-two years
on this hill come the fourteenth day o.
June, an II / didn't know where she
lived I'd be 'shamed OF II. Do you see
that big house down there in the
trees2"
could see the place at which he
lpolnted far back from the village street
In the valley below us, the house near
ly hidden by tall evergreens.
"Yes," / answered
"Wal, that's the Squire Fullerton
place-he's Kate's father"
Does the squire live there7"
"No, sir-not eggzacly. He's dyin'
| iusIe-Deen uyln tneTc IoT TWO yeur
er more. BY gosh It's wonderful how
hard 'tls fer some folks to quit breath
in. Say. be you any o. his familyf'
"No."
"Nor no friend o. hisT'
"Noi"
Course not. He never had friend
In his life-too meant He's too mean
TO die, mister-too mean fer hell an
wouldn't wonder-honest, wouldn't
mebbe that's why God Is keepln' him
here-jest TO meller him up a little.
Say, mister, be you In hurry"
mo"
"Say. hitch yer boss an come In
here. l want to show ye suthin'."
I dlsmounted and hitched my horse
TO the fence and followed him into the
old churchyard between weather
stained mossy headstones and graves
pvergrown with wild roses. Near the
Far end of these thick-sown acres he