Demorratic; atc
Bellefonte, Pa., November 6, 1914, |
——
i
The Story of
Waitstill
i
i
Baxter
By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
[Concluded from last week.]
CHAPTER XXX.
Two Heavens. |
T the very moment that Deacon
Baxter was starting out on
his quest for a housekeeper,
Patty and Mark drove into
the Mason dooryard. and the sisters]
flew into each other’s arms. The dress
that Mark had bought for Patty was’
the usual charming and unsuitable of- |
fering of a man’s spontaneous affec-!
tion, being of dark violet cloth with a
wadded cape lined with satin. i
Waitstill in her plain linsey-woolsey
was entranced with Patty's beauty
and elegance, and the two girls had a
few minutes of sisterly talk, of inter- |
change of radiant hopes and confi-'
dences before Mark tore them apart, |
their cheeks wet with happy tears.
As the Mason house faded from view |
Patty waved her muff until the last
moment, turned in her seat and said: !
“Mark, dear, do you think your fa- |
ther would care if I spent the twenty |
dollar gold piece he gave me for Wait- |
still? She will be married in a fort- |
night, and if my father does not give
her the few things she owns she will |
go to her husband more ill provided |
even than I was. I have so much,
dear Mark, and she so little.” |
" “It's your own wedding present to !
use as you wish,” Mark answered, |
“and it's exactly like you to give it!
away. Gg ahead and spend it if you |
want to. can always earn enough to |
keep you without anybody’s help.” !
And Mark, after cracking the whip |
vaingloriously. kissed his wife just!
over the violet ribbons. and. with '
sleigh bells jingling, they sped over
the snow toward what seemed Para-
dise to them, the New Hampshire vil-
lage where they had been married
and where their new life would begin.
So a few days later Waitstill receiv-
ed a great parcel which relieved her
of many feminine anxieties, and she
began to shape and cut and stitch dur-
ing all the nours she had to herself.
They were not many. for every day
she trudged to the Boynton farm and
began with youthful enthusiasm the
household tasks that were so soon to
be hers by right.
“Don’t waste too much time and’
strength here, my dearest.” said Ivory.
“Do you suppose for a moment I shall
keep you long on this lonely farm? 1 |
am ready for admission to the bar or I !
am fitted to teach in the best school in
New England. Nothing has held me’
here but my mother, and in her pres-
ent condition of mind we can safely
take her anywhere. We will never |
live where there are so many memo- |
ries and associations to sadden and |
hamper us, but go where the best op- |
portunity offers and as soon as may |
be. My wife will be a pearl of great |
price,” he added fondly, “and I intend
to provide a right setting for her!" |
Ivory was right. Waitstill Baxter |
was indeed a jewel of a woman. She |
had little knowledge but much wis- |
dom, and after all knowledge stands |
for the leaves on a tree and wisdom
for the fruit. There was infinite rich-
ness in the girl, a richness that had
' been growing and ripening through the |
years that she thought so gray and |
wasted.
Those lonely tasks, too hard for a
girl's hands, those unrewarded drudg-
eries, those days of faithful labor in
and out of doors, those evenings of
self sacrifice over the mending basket.
the quiet avoidance of all that might |
vex her father’s crusty temper, her pa-
tience with his miserly exactions, the
hourly holding back of the hasty word
—all these had played their part: all
these had been somehow welded into
Aa strong, sunny, steady life wisdom.
there is no better name for it. and so
she had uncousciously the best of all
harvests to bring up dower to a hus-
band who was worthy of her.
i~ These were quietly happy days at
the farm, for Mrs. Boynton took a new
if transient hold upon life that de-
ceived even the doctor. Rodman’ was
nearly as ardent a lover as Ivory, hov-
ering about Waitstill and exclaiming:
“You never stay to supper, and it’s so
lonesome evenings without you! Will
it never be time for you to come and
live with us, Waity, dear? The days
crawl so slowly!” At which Ivory
would laugh, push him away and draw
Waitstill nearer to his own side, say-
ing, “If youn are in a hurry, you young
cormorant, what do you think of me?
“We can never wait two more days,
Rod: let us kidnap her! Let us take
the old bobsled and run over to New
Hampshire where one can be married
the minute one feels like it. = We
could do it between sunrise and moon-
rise and be at home for a late supper.
Would she be too tired to bake the
biscuits for us, do you think? What
do you say, Rod, will you be best
man?’ ‘And there would be youthful,
unaccustomed langhter floating out
from the kitchen or living room. bring-
ing a smile of content to Lois Boyn-
ton’s face as she lay propped up in bed
with her open Bible beside her. “He-
binds up the broken hearted.” she
|
i
|
i
. them a garland for ashes, the oil of
, for the spirit of heaviness.”
‘nor presents nor bridal journey, only a
i for it fell out that Lois Boynton had
i Boynton’s during these cold,. white.
bs
© a windy moonlit night a morning
whispered to herself. “He gives untc
joy for mourning. the garment of praise
* * * * * * *
The guiet wedding was over. There
had been neither feasting nor finery,
homecoming that meant as deep and
sacred a joy, as fervent gratitude as
any four hearts ever contained in all
the world. But the laughter ceased.
though the happiness flowed- silently
underneath. almost forgotten in the
sudden sorrow that overcame them.
only waited as it were for the mar-
riage and could stay no longer.
* © * There are two heavens * * *
Both ‘made of love—one, inconceivable
Ev’n by the other, so divine it is:
The other, far on this side of the stays,
By men called home.
And these two heavens met over at
glistening December days.
Lois Boynton found hers first. After
dawned in which a hush seemed to be
on the earth. The cattle huddled to-
gether in the farmyards and the fowls
shrank into their feathers. The sky
was gray, and suddenly the white
heralds came floating down like scouts
seeking for paths and camping places.
Waitstill turned Mrs. Boynton’s bed
so that she could look out of the win-
dow. Slope after slope, dazzling in
white crust. rose one upon another and
vanished as they slipped away into the
dark green of the pine forests.
Then,
* * ¥ there fell from out the skies
A feathery whiteness over all the land;
A strange, soft, spotless something, pure
as light.
It could not be called a storm, for there
had been no wind since sunrise, no
whirling fury, no drifting, only a still,
steady, solemn fall of crystal flakes,
hour after hour, hour after hour.
Mrs. Boynton’s book of books was
open on the bed, and her finger mark-
ed a passage in her favorite Bible
poet.
“Here it is, daughter,” she whisper-
ed. *1 have found it, in the same
chapter where the morning stars sing |
together and the sons of God shout for
of
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“Our little brother is never in the
way.”
joy. The Lord speaks to Job out of
the whirlwind and says, ‘Hast thou
entered into the treasures of the snow,
or hast thou seen the treasures of the
hail?" Sit near me, Waitstill. and look
out on the hills. ‘Hast thou entered
into the treasures of the snow? No. |
not yet, but please God I shall, and
into many other treasures soon.” and
she closed her eyes.
All day long the air ways were filled
with the glittering army of the snow-
flakes. all day long the snow grew
deeper and deeper on the ground, and
on the breath of some white winged
wonder that passed Lois Boynton’s
window her white soul forsook its
“earth lot” and took flight at last.
They watched beside her, but never
knew the moment of her going. Her
face was so like an angel’s in its shin-
ing serenity that the few who loved
her best could not look upon her with
anything but reverent joy. On earth
she had known nothing but the “bro-
ken arcs.” but in heaven she would
find the “perfect round.” There at last,
on the other side of the stars, she could
remember right, poor Lois Boynton!
For weeks afterward the village was
shrouded in snow as it had never been
before within memory, but in every
happy household the home life deepen-
ed day by day. The books came out in
the long evenings; the grandsires told
old tales under the inspiration of the
hearth fire; the children gathered on
their wooden stools to roast apples and
pop corn, and hearts came closer to-
gether than when summer called the
housemates to wander here and there
in fields and woods and beside the
river.
Over at Boyntons', when the snow
was whirling and the wind howling
round the chimneys of the high gabled
old farmhouse, when every window
had its frame of ermine and fringe of
icicles and the sleet rattled furiously
against the glass. then Ivory would
throw a great back log on the bank of
coals between the firedogs. the kettle
wauld begin to sing and the cat come
from some snug corner to curl and
purr on the braided hearth rug.
School was in session, and Ivory and
Rod had their textbooks of an evening,
but, oh, what a new and strange joy to
study when there was a sweet woman |
sitting near with her workbasket—a
woman wearing a shining braid of hair,
as if it were a coronet; a woman of
‘ the ruins of an old house hidden by
' great trees.
‘ished stick with which three-year-old
clear eyes and tender lips, ope who
i
could feel as well as think, one who
could be a man’s comrade as well as |
his dear love! Truly the second heav-
en, the one on “this side of the stars,
by men called home,” was very present
over at Boyntons’.
Sometimes the broad seated old hair-
cloth sofa’ would be drawn in front of
the fire, and Ivory, laying his pipe and
his Greek grammar on the table. would
take some lighter book and open it on
his knee. Waitstill would lift her eyes
from her sewing to meet her husband's
glance that spoke longing for her closer
companionship and. gladly leaving her
work and slipping into the place by his
side, she would put her elbow on his
shoulder and read with him.
Once Rod from his place at a table
on the other side of the room looked
and looked at them with a kind of in-
stinet beyond his years and finally
crept up to Waitstill and. putting an
arm through hers. nestled his curly
head on her shoulder with the quaint
charm and grace that belonged to him.
It was a young and beautiful shoul-
der, Waitstill’s, and there had always
been and would always be a gracious
curve in it where a child’s head might
lie in comfort. Presently with a shy
pressure, Rod whispered: “Shall 1 sit
in the other room, Waitstill and Ivory?
Am I in the way?”
ivory looked up from his book
quietly shaking his head, while Wait-
still put ber arm around the boy and
drew him closer.
“Our little brother is never in the
way.” she said. as she kissed him.
On midsuramer evenings the win-
dows of the old farmhouse over at
Boynton's gleam with unaccustomed
lights and voices break the stillness.
lessening the gloom of the long grass
grown lane of Lois Beynton's watch-
ing in days gone by. On sunny morn-
ings there is a merry babel of chil-
dren’s chatter, mingled with gentle
maternal: warnings, for this is a new
brood of young things; and the river
is calling them as it has called all the
others who ever came within the cir-
cle of its magic. The fragile hare-
| bells hanging their blue heads from
| the crevices of the rocks: the brilliant
columbines swaying to and fro on
their tall stalks: the patches of gleam-
ing sand in shallow places beckoning
little bare feet to come and tread
them; the glint of silver minnows dart-
ing hither and thither in some still
pool; the tempestuous journey of some
weather beaten log, tighting its way
downstream— here is life in abundance,
luring the child to share fts risks and
its joys.
When Waitstill's boys and Patty's
girls come back to the farm they play
by Saco water as their mothers and
their fathers did before them. The
paths through the pine woods along
the river's brink are trodden smooth
by their restless, wandering feet. Their
eager, curious eyes search the way-
sides for adventure, but their babble
and laughter are oftenest heard from
The stones of the cellar,
all overgrown with blackberry. vines.
are still there, and a fragment of the
brick chimney, where swallows build
their nests from year to year. A wil-
derness of weeds, tall and luxuriant,
springs up to bide the stone over which
Jacob Cochrane stepped daily when
he issued from his door, and the pol- |
Patty beats a tattoo may be a round
from the very chair in which he sat.
expounding the Bible according to his
own vision. The thickets of sweet
clover and red tipped grasses. of wav-
ing ferns and young alder bushes hide
all of ugliness that belongs to the de- |
=
CASTORIA.
_ treasure,
“down.” explained the meek looking
serted spot and serve as a miniature :
forest in whose shade the younglings '
foreshadow the future at their play of |!
home building and housekeeping. In
a far corner. altogether concealed
from the passerby, there is a secret
a wonderful rosebush, its |
green leaves shining with health and |
vigor. When the July sun is turning °
the hayfields yellow the children part |
the bushes in the leafy corner and lit- |
tle Waitstill Boynton steps cautiously |
in to gather one splendid rose, “for fa-
ther and mother.” |
Jacob Cochrane’s heart, with all its |
faults and frailties, has long been at |
peace. On a chill, dreary night in |
November all that was mortal of him
was raised from its unhonored resting i
place, not far from the ruins of his old |
abode, and borne by three of his dis- |
ciples far away to another state. The
gravestones were replaced, face down-
ward, deep, deep in the earth, and the
sod laid back upon them, so that no
man thenceforward could mark the
place of the prophet’s transient burial
amid the scenes of his first and only
triumphant ministry.
“It is a sad story, Jacob Cochrane's,”
Waitstill said to her husband when
she first discovered that her children |
had chosen the deserted spot for their
play. “and yet, Ivory, the red rose
blooms and blooms in the ruins of the
man’s house, and perhaps somewhere
in the world he has left a message *
that matches the rose.”
THE END.
Ministers and Ambassadors.
The first minister plenipotentiary
from the United States to England was
John Adams. Thomas Pinckney of
South Carolina became the first minis-
‘ter to England under the constitution.
The United States continued to be rep-
resented by ministers until 1893, when
Thomas F. Bayard of Delaware be-
came the first American ambassador
to the court of St. James. The first
British minister to the United States
was George Hammond, who was ap-
pointed in 1791. Lord Pauncefote be-
come the first British ambassador to
Washington in 1893.
He Fell Right In.
His Wife—~I met our maid Anna just
now on the, street and she pretended
not to see me. Her Husband—You
ought to point out to Anna the impro-
priety of such conduct. His Wife—But
how can 1? You see, she had another
girl with her. and it was quite evident
she didn’t want her friend to know she
was working for a woman who wore a
two dollar and fifty cent bat.—New
York Post.
Peace With a Punch.
“Here, what's all this row about?”
asked the copper breathlessly. |
“Why, this woman is collecting mon-
ey for the peace society, and when 1
refused to contribute she knocked me
man. — Buffalo Express.
Great Scheme.
“How's your play?’
“A great success. My creditors are
all coming to see if 1 am making
money, and through their patronage I
nm.” —Seattle Post-Intelligencer.
Your Friends.
Treat your friends as you do your
bank account. Don’t be reckless with
them just because you've got them.—
Detroit I°r2e Press.
-— They are all good enough, but the
WATCHMAN is always the best.
CASTORIA.
The Kind You Have Always Bought, and which has been
in use for over 80 years, has
and has been made under his pere
sonal supervision since its infancy.
702 es
Ailow
All Counterfeits, Imitations and ¢ J ust-as-good °° are but
Experiments that trifle with
Infants and Children—Experience againsty Experiment.
What is CASTORIA
Castoria is a harmless substitute for Castor Oil, Pare
goric, Drops and Soothing
contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic
substange. Its age is its guarantee.
and allays Feverishness.
has been in constant use
Flatulency, Wind Colic,
Diarrhoea. It
8
In Use For Over 30 Years
The Kind You Have Always Bought
THE CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY,
£0.0-e.0.w
For more than thirty years it
for the relief of Constipation,
all Teething Troubles and
imilates th Food, log yl
ass! s the Fo g he and natural sleep.
The Children’s Panacea—The A »
GENUINE CASTORIA ALwAYs
Bears the Signature of
borne the signature of
no one to deceive you in this,
and endanger the health of
Syrups. It is pleasct. It
It destroys Worms
Stomach and Bowels,
Mother’s Friend.
Shoes. Shoes.
Yeager’s Shoe Store
“FITZ
ZY
The
Ladies’ Shoe
that
Cures Corns
Sold only at
Yeager’s Shoe Store,
Bush Arcade Building, BELLEFONTE, PA
58.27
Dry Goods, Etc.
LYON & COMPANY.
The Choosing of Furs
is a most important matter. In our store you will
find the smartest kinds known to furland, the choicest
styles and prices to suit the most conservative buyer.
Animal shape or straight neckpiece, with mounted
head and tail. Bolster, pillow, Semi-barrel or animal
effect muff, handsomely lined, in colors black, brown,
white and tiger effects.
' LA VOGUE
Coats and Suits
Owing to the continued warm weather we have made |
special reductions in this department.
SUITS.—Gabardines, Poplins, Serges and rough mix-
tures in black, brown, green, navy and Copenhagen
blue, with satin linings. Skirts are smart up-to-date
models, some with deep hip yokes and long tunics.
COATS.—AIl the newest styles in Ladies’, Misses’ and
Children’s Coats. Quality, style and workmanship
guaranteed. |
NEW SILKS AND VELVETS.—Crepe Meteors, Crepe
de Chines, Charmeuse, Messalines and a large variety
of colors and designs in the new kimona silks. Novel
ty Silks in stripes and plaids. All colors in Silk Vel-
vets and Velveteens.
STAMPED GOODS.—An early showing of Holiday
Stamped articles. Linen Pillow Cases, Laundry Bags,
Combing Jackets, Pillow Tops, Fancy Bags, Shirt
Waists, Guest Towels, Collar and Cuff Sets, Night
Gowns, Combination Suits and Doilies in all sizes.
Make Your Selection Early
A hand-embroidered gift is appreciated by everyone.
Lyon & Co. ... Bellefonte