POLK COUNTY NEWS, TRYON, N. C.
r
rl guwttcse it 1: a tftr rath
Dignified Waps for Spring
er sharply. "I don t have much time;-
to get arounov4 i nave w
There's some peopl e seem to be able
to git along without: it , I see you've
got one o i these -newfang- ed . stoves,"
he added as he looked it over. "Huh !
fA TALE of the NORTH COUNTRY Intthe TIME of SILAS WRIGHT
Rich folks can have anything they
want. . : ... , .
Uncle Peabody had sat splintering
1 ''t.
th a loner stick of yellow Mrch. 1 ob
served that the jackknlfe trembled in
his hand. His tone had a touch of ,
' Author Of EBEN HOLDEN. D RI AND I, DARREL OF THB BLESSED
; V ' ISLES. KEEPING UP WITH LIZZIE. Etc Etc v
unnaturalness, proceeding no doubt
' ' ' CopTrltrht by Irttag pachUr
from his fear of the man before him,
1 . ' jr
'i. . II I , ' i .
BAGHELLER
IJLI
as he said: x .
r
; I: .. r '
i'
.Si
"hi ,e .
!
4 .
carton Learns of jhe existence of a wonder
ful POWER KNOWN AS "MONEY."
SynopsisBarton Baynes, an orphan, goes to live with his uncle,
Peabody Baynes, and his Aunt Deel on a farm on Rattleroad, In a
neigWorbood called Llckitysplit, about the year 1826. He meets Sally
DonkeJberg, about his own age, but socially of a class above the
Ibtyseses, and is fascinated by her pretty face and fine clothes. Barton
also meets Roving Kate, known In the neighborhood as the "Silent
Woman." Amos Grimshaw, a young son of the richest man in the town
sadp, is a visitor at the Baynes home and Roving Kate tells the boys'
fortunes, predicting a bright future for Barton and death on the gallows
for Amos. Reproved for an act of boyish mischief, Barton runs away,
intending to make his home with the Dunkelbergs. He reaches Canton
aad falls asleep on a porch. There he is found by Silas Wright, Jr., a
roan prominent in public affairs, who, knowing Jeibody Baynes, takes
Barton home after buying him new clothes. Silas Wright evinces much
Interest in Barton and sends a box of books' and magazines to the
Baynes home. A short time later the election of Mr. Wright to the
United States senate is announced.
CHAPTER V. v
, The Great Stranger
Sonne .atrangers . came along the
those days hunters, peddlers
aad the like and their coming filled
me with a joy which mostly went
away with them, I regret to say. None
I these, however, appealed to my
fcnasfratioii - as - did old Kate. But
Hum iras one, stranger greater than
ate greater indeed, than . any . other
vbe came into Rattleroad. " He came
nn3y and would not be long detained.
Bow curiously we looked at him,
knowing his fame and power! This
creat stranger was Money.
. ? cStfill nvpp fnrirft thf dav that
soy tinde showed me a dollar bill and
a little ishiny, gold coin and three
jjiee8 of silver, nor can I forget how
caurefnllj . he watched them while
Cbey lay in my hands and presently
put than back into his wallet. That
ra long before the time of which I
so writing. I remember hearing him
ay, one day of that year, when I
asked him to take us to the Caravan
f WiM Beasts which was coming to
tb village:
Tin awry, but it's been a hundred
Sccdays since I had a dollar in my
wallet for more than ten minutes."
- J ham : his old account hook for
t2 years.' of 1837 and 1838. Here are
ware of the entries:,
Balanced accounts with J. . Doro
ttjy and gave him my note for $2.15
la be paid in salts January 1, 1838.
Sold ten bushels of wheat to E. Miner
, at SO cents, to be paid in goods.
Sold two sheep to Flavius Curtis
and took Ms note for $6, payable in
fcoots en or before March the first"
Only cue entry in more than a
Ireadred mention money, and this was
fbe earn of eleven cents received in
balance from a neighbor.
So it will be seen that a spirit of
mcfgrrt accommodation served to
, 3bcfp os over the rough going. Mr.
fiftimsnaw, however, demanded his
pay in cash and that I find was main
ly the habit of the money-lenders.
We were-poor but our poverty was
aot like that, of these days in which
1 aza writing. It was proud and
cleasly and well-fed. Our fathers
Sod seen heroic service in the wars
aas we knew it
1 waa twelve years- old when I De
jeoa to be the reader for our little
faaailj. Aunt Deel had long com
lSakked that she couldn't keep up with
3kr Jkaitting and . read so much.' We
feud sot seen Mr. Wright for nearly
w years, but he had sent us the
wwis of Sir Walter Scott and I had
d them heart deep into the creed
Settles of Old Mortality.
THen came the evil days of 1837,
widen the story of our lives began to
ateken its pace and excite our inter
af in its coming chapters. It gave
9 enough to think of, God knows.
- Wfld speculations in land and the
AaberScan paper-money system Z had
fcreognt ns into rough going. ; The
fcanks of the city of New York had
apended payment of their notes.
Tbey could no longer meet their en
' yagerarats. As usual, the burden fell
heaviest on the poor. It was hard to
as money even for black salts.
v tJncle Peabody had been silent an3
i&SKressed for a month or more." He
2md signed a note for Rodney Barnes,
a cousin, long before and was afraid
Si he would have to pay it. I didn't
taww lrhnt a note was and I remem-
- t that one night, when I lay think
5ag about it, I decided that it must
e something in the nature of horse
rKC My uncle told me that a note
nam a trouble which attacked the
fyala instead of the stomach.
.w autumn day in Canton Uncle
3&dj traded three sheep and twen
ty latshels of wheat for a cook stove
atl arought it home In the big wagon.
. iRlne Barnes came with him to help
c'iip the stove. He was a big giant
f nan tn the longest nose in the
wnship.M nave often wondered how
f? e wduld solve the problem of
Erasing Mr. Barnes in the Immediate
jv-mm of his tiose, the same being in
tfc nature of a defense.
That evening I 'J was chiefly inter
ad In , the stove. What a Joy it
."r8 r n.,with ita Samper and grid-
dies and high oven and the shiny edge
on its hearth I It rivaled, in its nov
elty and charm, ay tin peddler's cart
that ever came to our door. John
Axtell and his wife, who had seen it
pass their house, hurried over for a
look at, it. Every hand was on the
stove as we tenderly carried it into
the house, piece by piece, and set it
up. Then they cut a hole in the up
per floor and the stone chimney and
fitted the pipe. How keenly we
watched the building of the fire. How
quickly.lt roared and began to heat
the room ! ,
When the Axtells had gone away
Aunt Deel said:
"It's grand! It Is sartin but I'm
'frald we can't afford it ayes I be!"
"We can't afford to freeze any
longer. I made up my mind that we
couldn't go ; through another winter
as we have." was my uncle's answer.
"How much did It cost?" she asked.
"Not much differ'nt from thirty
four dollars in sheep and grain," he
answered.
Rodney Barnes stayed to supper
and spent a part of the evening with
us.
Like other settlers there, Mr.
Barnes was a cheerful optimist Every
thing looked good to him until it
turned out badly.
He told how he had heard that It
was a growing country near the great
water highway of the St. Lawrence.
Prosperous towns were building up
in it. There were going to be great
cities in Northern New York. There
were rich stores of lead and iron
in the rocks. Mr. Barnes had bought
two hundred acres at ten dollars an
acre. He. had to pay a fee of five
per cent to Grlmshaw's lawyer for
the. survey .and the papers. This left
him owing fourteen hundred dollars
on his farm much more than it was
worth. ' . ' ; V. .V ' :
Our cousin twisted the poker in
his great hands until it squeaked as
he stood before my uncle and said :
"My wife and I have chopped and
burnt and pried and hauled rocks an'
shoveled dung an milked an' churned
until we are worn out For almost
twenty years we've been workin' days
an' nights an' Sundays. My mortgage
was over-due, I owed six hundred dol
lars on It. I thought it all over one
day an went up to Grlmshaw's an'
took- him by the back of the neck
and shook him He said he would
drive me out o th country.' He
gave me six months to pay up. I had
to pay or lose the land. I got the
money on the note that you signed
over in Potsdam. Nobody in Can
ton would 'a' dared to lend it to
me."
44 Why?" my uncle asked,
" 'Frald o Grimshaw. He didn't
want me to be able to pay it. The
place is worth more than, six hundred
dollars now that's the reason. I In
tended to cut some timber an haul
it to the village this winter soJ could
pay a, part" o' the note an' git more
time as I told ye, but the roads have
been so bad I couldn't do any haul
in'" . ..
rMy uncle went and took a drink. at
the water pail. I saw by his face
that he was unusually wrought up. '
"My heavens an earth!" he ex
claimed as he sat down again.
"It's the brain colic," I said to
myself as I looked at him.
Mr. Barnes seemed to have it also.
"Too . much note," I whispered.
"I'm awful sorry, but I've done
everything I could," said Mr. Barnes.
"Ain't there somebody that'll take
another mortgage ?r-lt" ought to" te
safe now," my uncle suggested.'
"Money Is so tight it can't be done.
The bank has got all the money an'
Grimshaw owns the bank.. I've tried
and tried, but I'll make you safe. I'll
give you a mortgage until I can turn
'round." '?'':..;-. ',' ' r--'1-' ' "V, ;V'
So I saw how Rodney Barnes, like
other settlers in Lickitysplit, had gone
into bondage to the landlord. -
"How much do - you owe on this
place?" Barnes asked. v
"Seven hundred an' fifty dollars,"
said my uncle. , , : m
-Is it due?" - : i - V -;; -
"It's been due a year an if I have
tov pay that note TU bo short my in
terest." ,
"God o Israeli Tm scairt," said
Uncle; Peabody.
.Down crashed the stick of wood
into5 the box.
"What about?'
"It would be like him to put the
screws on you, now. xon ve got De
tween him an his prey. You've taken
the mouse away from the cat"
1 remember the little panic that
fell on us then. I could see tears
In the eyes of Aunt Deel, as she sat
with her head 'leaning wearily on her
hand.
. "If he does Til do all I can, said
Barnes, 4twhatever I've got will be
yours." ' ;,
Rodney Barnes left us, and.' I re
member how Uncle Peabody stood in
the middle of the floor and whistled
the- merriest , tune he-knew. ' ,'
"Stand right up here," he called in
his most cheerful tone. "Stand - right
up - here before me," both o' ye." ;
I got Aunt Deel by the hand and
Ted her -toward my uncle.' We stood
facing , him. "Stand straighter," he
demanded. " "Now, altogether. One,
two, three, ready sing." ,
He beat time with his hand in imi
tation of , the singing master at the
schoolhouse and we joined him in
singing an old tune which began: "Oh,
keep my heart from sadness, God."
This irresistible spirit of the man
bridged a bad hour and got us off
to bed. In' fairly good condition.
A few -' days later the note : came
due and its owner insisted upon full
payment There was such a clamor for
mohey those days I I remember that
my aunt had sixty dollars which she
had saved, little by little, by selling
eggs and chickens. She had planned
to use it to buy a tombstone for her
mother and ' father a long-cherished
ambition. My uncle needed the most
jjjiiiyiiv.
"One, Two, Three, Ready Sing.w
of It to help pay the note. We drove
to Potsdam on that sad errand and
what a time we , had getting there
and back in deep mud and sand and
jolting over corduroys I
"Bart," my uncle said the next
evening, as I took down the book to
read,, "I guess we'd better talk
things" over a little tonight These
are hard times. If we can find any
body with money enough to buy em
I dunno but we better sell the
sheep."
"If you hadn't been a fool," my
aunt exclaimed with a look of great
distress "ayes! If you hadn't been
a fool."
"I'm just what I be, an I ain't so
big a fool that I need to be reminded
of it," said my uncle.
"in stay 1 nome an' wora, , I pro
posed bravely.
"You ain't old enough for that,"
sighed Aunt Deel.
"I want to keep you In school, said
Uncle Peabody, who eat making u
splint broom.
While we were talking in walked
Benjamin Grimshaw the rich man of
the hills. He didn't stop to knock,
but walked right In as if the house
were, his own. It was common gos
sip that he held a mortgage on every
acre of the countryside. I had never
liked him, for he was a stern-eyed
man who was always scolding some
body, and I had not forgotten what his
son had said of him.
"Good night !" he exclaimed curtly,
as he sat down and set his cane be
tween his feet and rested his hands
upon It He spoke hoarsely and 1
remember the curious notion came to
me that he looked like our old, ram.
He wore a thin, gray beard under his
chin. His mouth was shut tight in
a long line curving downward a lit
tle at the ends. My uncle' used to
say that his mouth was made to keep
his thoughts from leaking and going
to waste. He had a big body, a big
chin, a big mouth, a big nose and
big ears and - hands. His eyes lay
small in this setting of bigness. -
"Why, yr. Grimshaw, it's " years
since you've been; in onr hoturo
aves!" said Aunt Deel - ,
U
'When I bought that stove I felt
richer than I do now. 1 had almost
enough to settle with yon 1ip to date,'
but I signed a note for a friend and
had to pay it"
"Ayuh ! I suppose so," Grimshaw
answered , In a tone ot bitter irony
which cut me like a knlfo-blade, young
as 1 was. "What business have you
signln notes, an' givin away money
which ain't: yours vo gire I'd like to
know? . What buA'tss k.ve you actln'
like a rich man when you cant pay;
yer honest debts? I'd like to know
that, too?" x
"If I've, ever acted like a rich man
it's been when I wa'n't lookln," said
Uncle Peabody. . :
"What business have you to go en
largin' yer family takin another
mouth ' to feed and another body to
spin for? ; That costs money. I want
to tell ' you one thing, Baynes, you've
got to pay up or git out o' here."
He, raised his cane and shook it in
the air as he spoke. '
; "Oh, I ain't no doubt o that." said
Uncle Peabody. : "You'll have to have
yer money that's sure; an you. will
have It if I live, every, cent of it
This boy is goln to be a great help
to me 'j on don't " know, what a good
boy he Is and what a comfort he'
Lbeentousl" '
These words of - my beloved unel
uncovered my emotions so that I put
my elbow on the wood-box and leaned
my head opon it and 6obbed.
"I ain't goln to be hard on ye,
Baynes," said Mr. Grimshaw as he
rose from his chair; "IH give ye
three months to see what you can do.
I wouldn't wonder if the boy would
turn out all right He's big an' cordy
of his age and a purty likely boy, they
tell me." ,
Mr. Grimshaw opened the door and
stood for a moment looking at us and
added in a milder tone: "You've got
one o the best farms in this town an'
if ye work hard an use common
sense ye ought to be out o debt in
five years- mebbe less."
He closed the door and went away.
Neither of us moved or spoke as we
listened to his footsteps on the gravel
path that went down to the road and
to the sound of his buggy as he drove
away. Then Uncle Peabody broki
the silence by saying: ?
"He's the dam'dest
He stopped, set the half -splintered
stick aside, closed his jackknlfe and
went to the water-pall to cool , hli
emotions with a drink. .
Aunt Deel took up the subject where
he had dropped it, as if no-half-ex
pressed sentiment would satisfy her,
saying:
" old skinflint that ever lived in
this world, ayes! I ain't goln tC
hold my opinion o' that man no
longer, ayes I - .1 can't It's too pow
erf ul ayes!"
Having recovered my composure 1
repeated that I should like to give up
school and stay at home and work.
Aunt Dee?, interrupted me by say
ingf v
"I have an idee' that Sile Wright
will help us ayes-! He's comin hom
an' you better go down an' see him
ayes! Hadn't ye?" .
"Bart an Til go down to-morrer,1
said Uncle Peabody. .".
Some fourteen 'months before that
day my uncle had taken trie to Pots
dam and traded grain and' salts f pi
what he called a "rip roarln' fine uil
o' clothes" ' with boots and caphd
shirt and collar and necktie to match,
I haVlng ' earned ; them by sawing and
cording wood at three Shillings a
cord. How often we looked back t
those better days!. The clothes had
been too big for me and I had had to
wait until my growth had taken up
the "slack" in my coat and trouseri
before I could venture out of, thi
neighbortood. I had tried them on
every, week oriso fora long-time.. Now
in statuie filled them handsbmelj
and they filled me with a pride and
saisfaotioa which I had never know
before. A
. "ftow may the Lord help ye to bf
careful awful, terrible careful d
them , clothes every minute o thil
day," : Aunt Deel cautioned as ? sh(
looked at . me. 44Don't git no hora.
sweat nor wagon grease on em."
Barton Qets new inspiration
from the Words of the' great
Silas Wright, who plana for the
education of the boy when he
is old enough to leave home for
school. .. V
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Our Wonderful Language. ,
A certain inerchant died, leaving to
his only son the conduct of his exten
sive business, and great doubt was ex
pressed in some quarters whether the
young man possessed the ability to car
ry out the father's , policies. 4Well,',
said ; one' kindly disposed friend, "foi
my part, J think Henry is very bright
and capable. Fm sure he will succeed.;'
Perhaps you're right said , anothef
friend.- "Henry is undoubtedly a clev
er feUowr but, : take it from me, oW
man;, he hasn't got the head to fill hl
We are constrained to give many of
ie dignified wraps for spring the In
definite title, of "outer garment." They
are toga-like affairs which manage to
combine the convenience and warmth
of coats with the grace and style bf
capes; part coat and part cape. De
signers tmve employed a world of in
genuity in making them, sometimes
joining a regulation cape to a short
coat and sometimes merging two gar
ments into one, but always contriv
ing to keep the suggestion of the
cape very much in evidence.
In the wrap shown it is the sleeve
that turns the trick of converting a
long coat Into the serublante of a
cape. This is the smartest of models;
made of velours in marine blue, with
an ample dolman sleeve. A soft print
ed silk in the same color with white
figures lines the whole garment and
makes an overlay on the wide shawl
collar. It is glimpsed in the sleeves
To Take the Race of Petticoats
I . ipr M
: From top to ; toe, everything in ap-,
parel is more or less -Influenced by
the new and narrow skirt. Many
of them are draped and some of them
are cut so that they hang In; that Is,
they narrow about the ankles. , Often
they are folded over, pr slashed, at
the bottom so that they ; allow a free
stride but maintain their narrowpess.
Since their adoption even hats have
been modified . to harmonize with the
long lines of the new silhouette.
Under the new skirts there is . no
abundance of room for frilly silk pet
ticoats, . so pantalettes of satin have
appeared to take . their place. , The
are long and soft, with plaited frills
at the. bottom that almor-t reach the
Instep. Where the frill is joined to
the pahtalette a casing Is stitched,
with an elastic cord run: in It, that
holds the pantalette snugly to th
leg. They are a better protection
against ! dust . than -petticoats and th-i
most sensible of garments for walking.,
What fullness Is necessary is gathered
In at the, waistline over an elastic cord.
The , pantalettes are made In wash
satins and, In silk, and they are not air
ways in flight colors. Probably before
summer arrives they may be bought In
almost as great a variety of colors as
petticoats: ; : 1 , : ; . : i '-.c u. ' :
The demand for bloomers is Increas
ing since the advent of narrow skirts,
and these, are made In wash silks "and
atlns' and in batiste rand sateen, in
and makes this a very spring-sons t
a wrap. The long, narrow sash i
made of the material and folds over at
the front.
Cherries on Spring H?ts.
Cherries trim quite a number of the
new spring models of hats, according
to the bulletin of the Retail Milliuery
Association of America. These are
used in the same shade as the but, in
natural shades or in a combination of
different shades. One very smart little
Milan hat in cherry red has a cluster
of grapes dangling over the side brim.
The facing and draped band of thi
model are of faille taffeta.
Bone Sweater Belt Fastenings.
One of the new sweater emits of silk
is made with a bone ring on one end
of the belt, and a bone pin on the othr
that is, a dumb-bell-shaped piece of
bone. This slides through the ring,
and when twisted around in position
ykeeps the belt end from slipping.
white and pink. Elastic bands hoM
them to. the leg below the knees wher
they are finished with a narrow frill.
As In other undermuslins the material
used forithem are fight . In weight, bur
durable. , Very dainty petticoats of
batiste, with lace rather sparingly use-1
for trimming them, are presented fp
weary with thin summer dresses, an I
the silk underslip is an essential Item
in the summer wardrobe.
America's A'ictory Colors.
Those in" America who -choose tlu
seasonal colors for; the dyers and
dressmakers, have united upon a nt h.
dep blue and a bright cherry as th
victory colors for , I919.v It is not th
red, that we associate with 'conquerors
observes a correspondent, it is too light
and' thin In Its -tones; but It will un
doubtedly; prove a success, as it is an
excellent contrast to the.victory biu
The cliolce of these colors is confined
to America. We do not know that
Franc will launch victory colors, but
it is to be supposed that. if she does,
she; will use the horizon blue of the
French -uniform ' or -the blue of th
French flag. She is not much given
to. this kind of work. It may be that
she will jaot celebrate victory through
fabrics.. .
1
- t
"'T