Year: 1879

| OF crossing the floor, for no one could
| tell how far the flames had advanced un-
derneath. 1t WAS no time to hesitate.
'One"-rang out clear and sweet from
the old clock, which was as industriously
and unconcernedly ticking away as it had
been for the last so years, while its white
! rosewreathed face and gilded hands
shore like star of promise through the
cloud of black smoke.


81 will save it if you will marry me-"
said the stranger.


''I will, replied Ruth firmly. The
young man took a deep, long breath,
threw the cape of his camler cloak over
his head, and with quick, light steps
crossed the cracking floor. took the tall
clock carefully in his arms and jumped
with it through the nearest window, tax
ing sash and glass before him.


Ruth caught up the big Bible, sped
across the long kitchen and made her
own escape by window in the rear-not
moment too soon, for almost immed-
lately the roof had fallen in, and the
place where they had so lately been
standing was flaming mass of burning
timbers.


''The clock was brought from England
by the old gentleman's grandfather, who
was sea-captain. ''The family prize
it as an heirloom" SIT is curious piece
of workmanship. One and another
made these explanations as an excuse
for Ruth's anxiety that had caused the
gallant stranger to risk his life that the
clock might be saved.


''No one but Ruthy had wound it for
years." said John. ''I we'll remember,
soon after mother died, when granther
put the key in Ruthy's little hand and
taught her to wind it, telling her that
now the clock was her charge. 1t never
has run down, has it, sister?'


| "No," replied Ruth, kneeling by the
quaint old eight-day clock and unlocking
the curiously carved door with little
silver key which was suspended from
her neck by a slender gold chain, "but I
was determined the dear old clock should
be saved because it is my bank of de-
posit. When the boatmen, the lumber
men, the raftmen leave money with me,
as they often do, 1 always lock it up in
the clock case, and there it is safe. 1
knew not how many hundred dollars
were lying there to day, nor how much
delay in receiving your wages it meant
for many of you if it had been destroyed.
But the money was intrusted to my care,
and I didn't intend to be the first Halle
to prove untrue to trust"


me DOaUlncu were rntlIeiy SaUIsnou
regard to the s'stuh7' the stranger was
made of, and instead of sousing him in
the river, they congratulated him upon
his intrepidity and condoled with him
for his burns, bruises and scratches.


Poor Grandfather Halle was carried
into one of the granaries, which was
made comfortable with furniture and
bedding that was saved from the fire, but
he died in less than week. During his
last hours he kept muttering, 81 alters
said the old yaller tavern never should
go out of the Halle name, and I told
Debby that she would look back to this
Thanksgivin' when she got to be Old"


Some of the neighbors, who believed
that the old captain set fire to the house
house purposely, used to say that he did
not rest quietly in his grave upon the
headland, but that, when the river was
unusually high, when the ice was going
out, or on Thanksgiving evenings, he
could be seen walking back and forth
beneath the burned and decaying elms
which had so long sheltered the yellow
tavern.


My grandfather has told me that in his
day even, when a boat was passing the
old tavern site after dark, the supersti-
tious boatmen would sing to keep their
courage up and to appease the spirit of
the old captain, who highly appreciated
the gift of good voice in riverman.


Pretty Ruthy married the stranger,
receiving her wedding outfit from Mr..
Strong of Hartford in acknowledgement
for his fat pocket-book which he received
safely from her hands. The young coun-
try girl, who had been SO popular and so
much admired in her humble sphere. was
greatly respected and beloved in her
elegant city home.


Should / tell her husbands name,
some of my readers would exclaim,
"Were he and Ruthy really the ances-
tors of the men of that name who have
been so prominent in public life, and of
that lovely family who We're travelling
through the valley last summer with
horses and carriage, looking up the birth
and burial-place of their ancestors, who
were among the early settlers upon the
lovely riverl"-iSprf,lgfeld Republican.


When Douglass Jerrold heard society
bore speaking of a song that "always
carried him away" when he heard it,
Jerrold simply asked if some one present
would please to sing it.





SWELL, my man," said a military doc
tor to patient who had been on low diet
r