Daily capital journal. (Salem, Oregon) 1903-1919, 1919-01-14
BOOK TWO
Which Is the Story Of the Prin-
cipaI Witness.
CHAPTER VIII.
in Which I Meet Other Great Men.

Der on which Aunt Deei and Uncle Pea
body took me and my little pine chest
with all my treasures in it to the vii
lage where / was to go to school and
live with the family Of Mr.. Michael
Hacket, the schoolmaster.
remember the sad excitement of
that ride to the village and all the
words of advice and counsel spoken
by my aunt.
remember looking In vain for Sally
as we passed the Dunkelbergs'. l re-
member my growing loneliness as the
day wore on and how Aunt Deel stood
silently buttoning my coat, with tears
rolling down her cheeks while
leaned back upon the gate in front Of
the Hacket house, on Ashery lane, try
ing to act like man and rather
ashamed Of my poor success. Uncle
Peabody stood surveying the sky in
silence with his back toward us. He
turned and nervously blew out his
breath. His lips trembled a little as
ne said:
81 dunno but what it's goin' to
rain"
watched them as they walked to
the tavern sheds, both looking down
at the ground and going rather un-
steadily. Oh, the look of that beloved
pair as they walked away from me =
the look of their leaning heads! Their
silence and the sound of their foot
steps are, somehow, part of the pic
ture which has hung all these years
in my memory.
Sally Dunkelberg and her mother
came along and said that they were
glad ! had come to school. l could
not talk to them, and seeing my trouble
they went on, Sally waving her hand
to inc as they turned the corner below.
J felt ashamed of myself. Suddenly I
heard the door open behind me and the
voice Of Mr.. Hacket:
"Bart," he called, "I've a friend
here who has something to say to you.
Come in."
turned ~ went into the house.
"Away with sadness-laddie buck I"
he exclaimed as ne took his violin from
its case while | sat wiping my eyes.
"Away with sadness! She often raps
at my door, and while l try not to be
rude, always pretend to be very
busy. Just light word O. recognition
by way O. common politeness Then
laugh, If ye can an do it quickly, lad,
an she will pass on"
The last words were spoken in a
whisper, with one hand on my breast.
He turned the strings and played
the "Fisher's Hornpipe." What romp
Of merry music filed the house! |
had never heard the like and was soon
smiling at him as he played. His bow
and fingers flew in the wild frolic of
the "Devil's Dream" 1t led me out
of my sadness into world all new to
me.
"Now, God bless your soul, boyw ne
exclaimed, by and by, as he put down
his instrument. eve shall have a good
time together-that we will. Not a
stroke o. work this dayl Come, / have
guide here that will take us down
to the land O the fairies"
Then tn his microscope he showed
me int , wonder world of llttleness
OF whici had no knowledge.
'"rhe microscope is like the art O. the
teacher" he said. 1--WE known a good
teacher to take brain no bigger than
a ily's foot an make it visible to the
naked eye"
One of the children, of which there
were four in the Hacket home, called
us to supper. Mrs. Hacket, a stout
: woman with red and kindly face, sat
at one end of the table, and between
them were the children-Mary, a pret-
ty daughter of seventeen years; Mag
gle, six-year-old; Ruth, a delicate
girl of seven, and John, noisy, red
faced boy Of five. The chairs were of
plain wood--lilSe the kitchen chairs of
today. In the middle of the table was
an empty one-painted green. Before
he sat down Mr.. Hacket put his hand
on the back of this chair and said
"a merry heart to you, Michael
Henry"
wondered at the meaning of this,
but dared not to ask. The oldest
daughter acted us kind Of moderator
with the others.
"Mary is the constable Of this house,
with power to arrest and hale into
court for undue haste or rebellion or
impoliteness," Mr.. Hacket explained,
"I believe that Sally Dunkelberg IS
your friend" he said to me presently.
.Yes. sir" | answered.
"a fine slip of a girl that and born
scholar. saw You look at her as
the Persian looks at the rising SUM-"
blushed and Mary and her mother
and the boy John looked at me and
laughed.
"Puer pulcherrime Mr.. Hacket
exclaimed with a kindly smile.
Uncle Peabody would have called II
q stout snag,' The schoolmaster had
hauled II out Of his brain very deftly
and chucked it down before me in 8
kind of challenge.
"what does that meant" I asked.
a.