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Richard
Prescott was “a true Christian” who “believed devoutly in the word and
promises of God,” but financial reverses forced him to leave the East and move
with his family to the Iowa frontier town of Spring Grove. Although a “pleasant
place,” Spring Grove had no church. When Richard asked a new acquaintance the
reason, he was told: “When you’ve lived here as long as we have, you’ll know.”
Richard began to see God’s purpose in leading him west as he resolved, in spite
of opposition, that the gospel of Jesus Christ and His righteousness would be
proclaimed even on the frontier. Content Whipple’s story of sin and redemption on the Iowa
frontier, The Prescotts was first published in 1871 by Garrigues
Brothers of Philadelphia; the following year, H. Hoyt of Boston published her
second novel, The Newell Boys—A Temperance Story. For a timeline of events in Content
Whipple’s life, click here. The Prescotts
BY
Content Whipple
Philadelphia: Garrigues Brothers, No. 608 Arch Street. 1877. Entered according to Act of
Congress, in the year 1871, by J. C. Garrigues & Co., In the Office of the
Librarian of Congress, at Washington. Westcott & Thomson,
Stereotypers, Philadelphia. Jas. B. Rodgers Co.,
Prs. 52 & 54 N. 6th St. CONTENTS. CHAPTER II. AN EFFORT TO DO GOOD CHAPTER III. DISAGREEABLE NEIGHBORS CHAPTER IV. OLD DOBSON'S LOGS CHAPTER V. AN UNNEIGHBORLY VISIT CHAPTER VI. THE TEMPERANCE SOCIETY CHAPTER VII. ALTHEA CHAPTER VIII. THE PARTY CHAPTER IX. ARTHUR HOLMES CHAPTER X. A GIRL'S INFLUENCE CHAPTER XI. THE MINISTER AND THE WITHERELLS CHAPTER XII. DAN LARK AND HORACE WITHERELL CHAPTER XIII. DELIA'S ILLNESS AND DEATH CHAPTER XIV. THE TEXT AND ITS FULFILMENT CHAPTER XV. DARKNESS AND SUNSHINE CHAPTER XVI. NED LARK'S ACKNOWLEDGMENT CHAPTER XVII. NED LARK'S CONVERSION CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION THE PRESCOTTS. CHAPTER I. THE PRESCOTT
FAMILY. SPRING GROVE was a little village pleasantly situated on the
banks of one of the smaller rivers in the State of Iowa. On every side of the
settlement was a deep forest, in some places twelve or fifteen miles long, the
village itself occupying a small clearing in the midst of this wilderness. It was, therefore, a lonely and isolated spot, the nearest town
of consequence being about twelve miles away. This town was called “the city”
by the people of Spring Grove, and by that name it will be known in these
pages. Spring Grove consisted of about fifty houses, mostly log cabins,
though there were a few nice frame houses in the village, and one built of the
rock from a quarry of lime-stone near by. It was quite a pleasant place, and considerable taste was
displayed in the arrangement of the streets and the locating of the buildings. A saw-mill and grist-mill had been erected on the banks of the
river, and the place boasted of one store, a shoemaker’s shop, a blacksmith’s
forge and, I am sorry to add, a grogshop, which will always corrupt the morals
and blight the happiness of any people. A family by the name of Prescott had come from the East and
taken up their abode in Spring Grove. The family consisted of Richard Prescott,
his wife and three children. The eldest, Althea by name, was a girl of fifteen,
Willie was ten and Grace, the baby, about three. Richard Prescott had been a man of considerable property in his
native place, but he had been unfortunate in business and lost nearly all he
was worth, and, like many another, emigrated to the West, hoping there to
regain his lost fortune. He was a stranger in this section of the country, but having
heard of it favorably, he had come there to settle. He was not a man to spend much time bewailing that which he
could not help. He was a true Christian, and believed devoutly in the word and
promises of God to his loving and trustful children. Wherever he found himself he made it a business to work, not
only for the temporal well-being of his family, but for that which was to last
eternally, and here in this far-off home, away from all the friends of former
days, he felt that God was just as near and life just as full of sacred
responsibilities. His wife was a helpmeet in every sense of the word. Trusting
fully in the promise of God not to forsake those who believe on him, she was
always cheerful, ready to bear her share of the burden, charitable toward the
faults of others and kind and self-sacrificing. The children had been reared in an atmosphere of love. They were
taught to be kind to each other, to obey their parents, to be peaceable among
their associates and to shun every appearance of evil. A strange family to be thrown among such people as made up the
society of Spring Grove; but those who believe that everything is ordered by
Providence for some wise purpose may perhaps see, as they follow this little
story, some good and wise reasons in Richard Prescott’s removal to the West. It was in the month of October that the Prescotts took up their
abode in Spring Grove. The house which they engaged was a log cabin of modest
pretensions situated on the outskirts of the village, in the very edge of the
forest. It contained two good-sized rooms besides the chamber, and for a
cabin was quite a pleasant and comfortable dwelling. But there was one serious
objection to it in the minds of Richard and his family, and if they could have
found a house half as suitable in any other part of the village, they would not
have gone where they did. The objection was the grogshop, which was only a few rods away;
in fact, the whisky-dealer was their nearest neighbor. The name of this personage was Edward Larkum, which had been
shortened by his cronies into “Ned Lark,” and by this appellation he was
generally known. He was a thick-set, savage-looking man, with bloated face and
surly ways. He loved his own grog as well as did his customers, and he was
seldom without a pipe in his mouth. He had a wife, a coarse, brawling
woman, who was detested by all her neighbors, and a number of dirty, swearing
children who seemed to have little idea of the difference between right and
wrong. His wife was usually called Mrs. Lark, and his children were designated
by the name of “young Larks.” It was not amid such surroundings that Mr. and Mrs. Prescott
wished to raise up their family, but as this was the best situation that
presented itself, they were obliged to accept of it. They brought with them from the East all the furniture which
they thought they should need for present use, excepting a stove. That they
intended to purchase after arriving at their place of destination. It so happened that John Camp, one of the men living in Spring
Grove, was about to remove farther west, and had a good stove that he would be
glad to sell. Richard was informed of the fact by a neighbor who knew that he
wished to buy one. “If you could borrow a stove a little while,” said the neighbor,
“till John leaves, then you’d be all right.” “But where can I borrow one?” asked Richard. “Ned Lark has one that he don’t use; he a’n’t much fur lendin’,
Ned a’n’t, or accommodatin’ any way, but mebbe he’d let ye hev it long enough
to turn yerself. I’ll borrow it for you if ye’d like to hev me.” “Thank you; if you will be so kind, it will accommodate me very
much,” answered Richard, and after much teasing on the part of Sam Carter, the
accommodating neighbor, Ned at last consented to lend his stove for the space
of a few weeks to the new-comers. Carter borrowed a piece of stove-pipe of
another man and helped Richard set up the stove. Now it began to seem quite pleasant and home-like, and little
Gracie, who at first said this was not a pretty home and teased to go back till
she made her sister Allie cry with homesickness, now said, “It was a pretty
home and she would stay.” The little cabin did not look distasteful when fitted up with
their few articles of furniture. The floor of one room was covered with a plain
home-made carpet, and the apartment contained a table, bureau, workstand, a few
chairs and a bed. In this same room was a trundle-bed for Willie under the
one in which his parents slept. The chamber was the sleeping-apartment of Althea and her little
sister. The other room was to be used through the winter as a store-room, and
was not furnished at all. The majority of the people of Spring Grove, though rough and
uncultivated, were very kind, and the first few days they called often upon
their new neighbors with offers of assistance, many of them bringing pies or
bread, with the excuse “that they reckoned Mrs. Prescott wouldn’t hev a chance
to cook much while she was a-gettin’ settled.” But one thing they all united in telling the Prescotts : “You never can get along with the Larks over the way,” they
said; “nobody ever did that lived here. They’re meaner ‘n all
creation. What with the fellers that are drunk ‘round the premises all the
time, and the pesky children, that a’n’t got no more manners than rats, and Ned
and his wife, that would both sell themselves to the evil one for a dollar,
ye’ll hev a tough time of it.” It was an unusually fervent prayer that ascended that night from
the humble home of Richard Prescott. He prayed that his little flock might not
be led into temptation, and that if evil came he might be enabled to overcome
it with good. Then commending himself and family to the care of the almighty
Father, and praying that their lives among these rough people might not be
unprofitable to the cause of the Lord, the good man and his family went to
rest, to awake in the morning to new and strange duties. CHAPTER II. AN EFFORT TO DO GOOD. THE Prescotts had not lived long in Spring Grove before they
discovered a great lack among the inhabitants--a lack which Richard felt it his
duty in some sort to supply. There was a schoolhouse in the place, and a school was kept up a
few months in the year, but there were no meetings of any kind, no
Sabbath-school, and no religious instruction whatever. The influential men of
the place--and there were a number--were for the most part irreligious and
profane, and frequented the grogshop oftener than better places of
resort. James Witherell and Gardiner Holmes were among the most prominent
of these men. Witherell owned the saw-mill and grist-mill, while Holmes kept
the store and a sort of tavern for the accommodation of travellers. Richard Prescott found employment for the winter in Witherell’s
saw-mill, where he received good wages, and was enabled to supply his family
with every necessary. Here he made more acquaintances among his neighbors than
he could have made in any other situation, for almost every one was wanting
logs sawed, and the mill was a place of resort for all the idlers in the
village. There was a man in the place, one Arnold Appleton, who had
formerly been a minister of the gospel. Richard found him to be a man of
considerable information and pretty good morals, who, although not coming up to
the standard which Richard had set up for himself, was yet far in advance of
the most of his neighbors. One day a number of men were collected in the mill, and among
them Elder Appleton, as he was generally called, and Sam Carter, who had
befriended the Prescotts on their first arrival. The conversation turned upon the want of meetings in Spring
Grove. “How is it, friends,” asked Richard, “that you have lived in
this place so long without meetings or Sabbath-schools ? It is a discouraging state of
things for your village. Are there no religious men among you?” “I used to belong to the church once,” said Sam Carter. “So did I, and I, and I,” responded several others. “And here is a minister who might have preached to you,” said
Richard. “Why didn’t you get up a meeting and carry it through, and redeem your
home from its immoral atmosphere?” “When you’ve lived here as long as we have, you’ll know,” said
one, disconsolately. “We did try it a little while, but our meetings were all
broken up by the rowdies, and we couldn’t do anything.” “Well, if I am going to live among you, I want to go to meeting,
and I want my children to go. Now, I will make a proposal to you. If I will
appoint a meeting in my house some evening, how many of you will come and help
me carry it through?” “You never can hold a meeting there, next door to that
grogshop,” said Elder Appleton; “they wouldn’t give you a minute’s peace of
your life if they found you were religious. You’ll find it hard enough to get
along, as it is.” “Well, friends,” said Richard, speaking slowly and solemnly,
“the Lord has given me a duty to perform, and if I neglect it, I shall be held
responsible. I will try to do right, and trust God to take care of the rest.
Now, how many of you will come to my meeting?” His earnest faith made a deep
impression upon them, and every man present consented to come. So he made
an appointment for the next Tuesday evening, saying, “I hope you will all bring
your families and as many friends as you can induce to accompany you.” There was great excitement in the place when the appointment of
the meeting was made public, and various were the opinions expressed in regard
to it. Some weak souls who loved religion, but were not strong enough
to stem the tide of popular opinion, were sincerely glad for the privilege of
attending; some who were indifferent to the cause of Christ were yet pleased to
see anything going on that looked like excitement; while others still were
indignant and bitterly angry at the prospect of a change that would interfere
with the wicked life which they were leading, and resolved that, if they could
prevent it, the new influence at work among the people of Spring Grove should
be effectually checked now and for ever. The evening of the meeting arrived, and the pleasant little room
in Richard Prescott’s cabin was furnished with benches enough to accommodate a
goodly number of people. The workstand stood in the middle of the room, and on it
Richard’s large family Bible which he had owned and read for twenty years. The bed was covered with a white spread, the stove was well
polished, the windows white curtained, and everything, though plain, was the
personification of neatness. Among the first arrivals was a son of Gardiner Holmes and two
daughters of James Witherell, who considered themselves the aristocracy of
Spring Grove. They had probably come out of curiosity. They were
dressed in a style far exceeding their neighbors, and entered with an air that
seemed to say, “You will see nobody here this evening who will equal us.” Shy little Allie Prescott was almost over-come with the
appearance of her grand neighbors, for the Witherell girls were really very
pretty, while Arthur Holmes was a fine, manly-looking youth. Had it not been
for the “better-than-their-neighbors” air that surrounded them, this would have
been a very interesting party. The room was soon crowded to its utmost capacity. Sam Carter,
his wife and three children were there; Elder Appleton and his wife and a
married son, a great handsome giant of a fellow, with his wife, and a crowd of
others, boys, girls, men and women of all appearances. The most of them seemed attracted by curiosity, but there were a
few among the crowd who were the friends of Christ and eager to listen to the
truths of religion. When the company had arrived, Richard arose and addressed them a
few words. He was a tall, noble-looking man, whose appearance could but
command respect, any- where, and when he rose to his feet, there was silence in every part of the room. “My friends,” he said, “I have called this meeting that we might
talk together upon a subject that is of the most vital importance to all of
us--the welfare of our immortal souls. God loves us too well to want us to
trifle away in vanity and sin the few years he has given us in which to prepare
for heaven, and it is a duty which we owe to ourselves and our Creator to make
some preparation in this world for the life which is to come. “I hope that we may listen to good words from many here present
to-night, and that this meeting will be but the beginning of a new and better
state of things in this little village. Now, will Brother Appleton lead us in
prayer?” These simple words of solemn and earnest meaning had touched a
chord in almost every heart, and nearly all present assumed a reverential
attitude, while Mr. Appleton breathed out a fervent petition for aid from above
in carrying out the good work begun in their midst. At its close more than one
amen was heard from the little assembly. Then, to the surprise of all, a clear and most musical voice
broke forth in the beautiful hymn-- “Oh when shall I see Jesus?” The company with one accord joined in, and the house re-echoed
with the sweet and thrilling refrain. The leader of the singing was none other than Nate Hardy, as he
was called, one of the most profane and intemperate men in Spring Grove. But Nathan had not always been thus. In his native place in the
East, among a refined and pious people, he had been choir-leader, and none had
been more circumspect in their conduct, or sincere in religious observances,
than he. But bad associates had ruined him, and those who had known him in his
youth would little dream that the Nathan Hardy of those days and the present besotted, degraded
Nate were one and the same person. But the solemn scene of to-night had brought to mind the
beautiful hymns of former days, and the singing of those sweet words awakened
thoughts in his heart which he had deemed would slumber for ever; and when it
was finished he bowed his head upon his hands and wept like a child. A portion of the Scripture was read by Elder Appleton, and then
Richard again arose and addressed a few words further to the audience. As he
commenced speaking, an old gray-headed man was seen elbowing his way through
the crowd, but as there appeared to be no seat for him and no one offered him
one, Richard passed him the chair on which he himself had been sitting. This little interruption over, he went on with his discourse.
For his subject he chose the words: “For if ye love not your brother whom ye
have seen, how can ye love God whom ye have not seen?” He made an eloquent appeal to their sense of duty toward their
fellow-men, telling them that faith was made manifest by works, and that no one
could say truly, “I love God,” while he was ready to do injury to his brother.
He talked earnestly of the duties of every-day life, the influence of one over
another, and the terrible consequences of setting a bad example. He dwelt
at length upon the evils of profanity, intemperance, etc., showing them up in
all their hideous deformity. At this stage of his discourse, the old man who last entered was
seen to move un-easily in his chair; then he began to mutter a denial of what
was being said, while low curses and threats issued from his thin, compressed
lips. Richard took no notice of the interruption, but the old man at
last became so noisy that the constable, who chanced to be present, warned him
to leave the house. He did not dare to disobey, but once outside, gave free vent to
his feelings. He cursed and swore and threatened, until some of the men present
went out and took him off the premises. He was known as old Dobson among his neighbors, and he had just
come from tile grogshop over the way. This was not the only disturbance of the meeting. A company of
boys and rowdies assembled outside in the course of the evening, and threw
stones upon the roof, shouted and otherwise disturbed the exercises, but
Richard especially requested that no one should notice them. The meeting went
on as if no annoyances had occurred, which proved to be the best way, for at
last the rioters, seeing that no one noticed them, began to find it dull sport
and went away, while the meeting was closed with a promising appearance of
interest on the part of those who had attended. CHAPTER III. DISAGREEABLE NEIGHBORS. MRS. PRESCOTT arose early on the first Monday morning after their
settlement at Spring Grove, and in common with housekeepers generally began her
labors at the wash-tub. It was a bright day, and as she was a fast worker,
her task was finished at an early hour. But there was one necessary article which the Prescotts had
neglected to bring with them, and as they had not yet procured it, Mrs.
Prescott felt the need of it very much. This was a clothes-line. The clothes were white as snow drifts, and she searched for some
time to find a suitable place to hang them. The door-yard fence was at last
decided upon, for although this fence was between their yard and that of the
Larks, yet as Mrs. Lark had a line in her own door-yard, Mrs. Prescott did not
think of her wanting to use the fence. So with much care she spread out the delicate garments that none
of them might touch the ground and be soiled, and then went into the house and
busied herself about some other work. By and by, Willie, who had been playing out of doors, came
running in, saying, “Mother, that Lark woman has thrown all our clothes on the
ground and put hers on the fence.” “Did you see her, Willie?” asked the mother, thinking it
scarcely possible that any one could do so unneighborly an act. “Yes, I saw her my own self,” answered the boy, “and she knew I
did, too, for she looked right at me.” Mrs. Prescott went to the window, and, lo! it was as Willie had
said. Her snowy garments, that she had taken so much pains to wash, were all
lying in the mud on her side of the fence. And such mud! Any one who has lived
in the West can understand that the blackness of darkness is nothing compared
to the Western mud. The fence was covered with Mrs. Lark’s clothes, while
her line was not nearly full. It was easy to see that it was the purest
malice that prompted the act. If Mrs. Prescott had yielded to her feelings, she would have
gone out to her neighbor (who had not yet entered the house, but seemed
courting a quarrel), given her “a piece of her mind,” and then sat down and
cried over the discouraging prospect of having all to do over again. But she did neither. She went out very calmly and deliberately,
picked up the soiled clothes and carried them in, and when she had washed them
hung them with much trouble upon the bushes and trees in her own door-yard. If Mrs. Lark had tried to get her neighbor into a quarrel, she
failed this time most effectually. Sometimes, when it was a pleasant day and not too muddy, Mrs.
Prescott would allow little Gracie to play out of doors with Willie. One day
when she was out the mother heard her crying as if seriously hurt. She ran to
the door and found that Willie had left her alone a few moments, and the bars
being down between their yard and the Larks’, whether purposely or not she did
not know, the little creature had gone, innocently enough, to make a call upon
their neighbors. Mrs. Lark had given her a severe shaking, and when Mrs.
Prescott went out to see what was the matter, and little Gracie came running to
her sobbing as if her heart would break, Mrs. Lark called out, “You may keep
your young ones at home, if you don’t want me to shake ‘em. I won’t have
‘em around my premises.” If Gracie’s mother had spoken then, she would have said
something very angry; so she held her peace, took the little girl in and
soothed her as well as she could. Mrs. Lark had a little girl about a year older than Gracie. It
so happened that same day that this child, little Katie Lark, came into the
Prescotts’ door-yard and up to the very door, before she was missed at home.
Mrs. Prescott might have retaliated now, if she had desired, for the injustice
done to her own child, but she had no thought of doing this. Instead, she
stroked the child’s curly head, and even kissed the little dirty face, and
when, in response to her mother’s alarmed call, Katie ran home, her hands were
filled with the nicest of cookies of Mrs. Prescott’s own baking. In this way did she return good for evil. CHAPTER IV. OLD DOBSON’S
LOGS. ONE morning Mr. Witherell, Richard’s employer, came to the mill
where he was at work, and said, “Dobson came to me last night, and was very
anxious to get some logs sawed. He has a chance to sell some lumber, but his
logs are on the outside, and he was afraid you wouldn’t be willing to saw them
till his turn came. I told him he could have it done for all of me, for
the inside logs are mostly mine, and it lay altogether with you. It will be
some trouble to roll the logs in, but he said you needn’t do anything about
that. He and his boys will do it. He wanted me to see you about it, for he
said he was ashamed to speak with you, he abused you so the night of the
meeting, and he was quite sure you wouldn’t want to do him a favor.” “He must have a poor opinion of me, then,” said Richard. “Tell
him I would do him a favor just as soon as any man in the village, and I
haven’t any but the very kindest of feelings toward him. Whenever he will come
down and help roll the logs in, they shall be sawed forthwith.” Mr. Witherell went away, and in about an hour old Dobson came
into the mill with a couple of his boys, great, strapping, broad-shouldered
fellows. The old man was looking decidedly sheepish, and as though he scarcely
knew what to say, but Richard met him with a cheery good morning, and appeared
so friendly that he soon felt more at ease. “Mr. Witherell tells me you’ve a chance to sell some of your
lumber.” “Yes.” “I am very glad, indeed. Lumber has been rather dull along
back, they tell me, and you are fortunate to find a market for yours.” The old man looked as pleased as he felt at his neighbor’s
cordial sympathy. “I--I didn’t know,” he stammered, “but--but you might have some
feelin’ ‘bout sawin’ ‘em for me. I didn’t use you well t’other night--” “We won’t speak of that, Neighbor Dobson,” said Richard, gently;
“you were not at that time as you are now. I was sorry to see you so, that
was all. Now, if you and your boys will take hold, we’ll roll these logs
in, and you shall have your boards as quick as I can saw them.” Dobson felt keenly the gentle rebuke conveyed in Richard’s
words, but it was said so kindly that he could not feel angry, and it did him
more good than a long temperance sermon would have done. The logs were sawed, Dobson and his boys remaining on hand to
roll them in as fast as they were wanted, and at every opportunity Richard
talked with them in a most friendly manner, making a good impression, not only
upon the old man, but also upon the rude uncultivated boys. He did not know it at the time, but he had that day made fast
friends of those whom he might so easily have converted into enemies. A few days afterward, as Mrs. Prescott was sitting in her room
sewing, she heard a knock on the door, and opening it, there stood a great
overgrown boy dressed in strangely-fitting garments, with long hair reaching to
his shoulders, and presenting an uncouth appearance generally. He had in his
hands a rod on which were strung several large, fine-looking pickerel, almost
the first fish Mrs. Prescott had seen since she came from the East. “Would you like these fish, mum?” he asked, holding them out
toward her. “I would like them very much,” said she, “but I haven’t any
money with me. Perhaps, if you should take them to the saw-mill where my
husband works, he would buy them.” “Don’t want no money,” said the boy; “ye’s welcome to ‘em;” and
he put the rod into her hands and started to walk away. “Stop a moment,” said Mrs. Prescott; “I want to know to whom I
am indebted for so nice a present.” “Yer a’n’t in debt to me, mum,” said the boy, half turning
about. “But what is your name?” insisted Mrs. Prescott. “Jack Dobson,” was the answer. “Thank you, Jack,” she called after him; “I sha’n’t forget this
nice present.” But Jack by this time was out of hearing. This was not by any means the last favor that the Prescotts
received from the Dobsons. Prairie chickens, wild geese and ducks, and almost
every kind of game, found its way into their culinary department, while every
time the Dobsons butchered a pig or a sheep(which was not seldom, as they were
pretty well off in worldly goods), they would send a generous share to the
Prescott family, and never would take a cent in payment. The friendship of such people was far preferable to their
enmity, and this the Prescotts realized better when they saw how some of their
neighbors suffered from the tricks of the Dobson boys, while they received only
favors. CHAPTER V. AN UNNEIGHBORLY
VISIT. MRS. PRESCOTT had been wanting for some time to go to the city.
She wished to make some purchases of articles which were not to be had in
Spring Grove, and she did not want to wait until winter before taking the long
ride. So one day Richard left his work, hired a team of one of the
neighbors and went with her. They took Willie with them that he might not get into mischief
while they were gone, and left little Gracie with Althea. It was now about the first of November, and the air was cold and
chilly. Allie made a good fire, and then tried to entertain her little sister
and herself to the best of her ability. But it was lonely enough there, and she began to feel almost
afraid, with the grogshop so close by and not another house within hearing
distance. About ten o’clock she heard a team drive up to the door, and
looking out, she saw Dan Lark, Ned’s oldest son, a young man of about eighteen,
with a horse and lumber-wagon. Wondering much what he was after, Allie kept
very still until she heard him knock at the door. Then she opened it, and he marched in without ceremony. “I’ve come arter my dad’s stove,” he said, walking up to the
stove and looking in to see how much fire there was. “What you got it so
hot fur ? Give us a pail o’ water to put out the fire.” Althea was so astonished by this rude way of entering a
neighbor’s house that she said not a word, while little Gracie clung to her
hand trembling. Dan looked around the room, and seeing a pail of water, he
dashed it over the fire, spilling it on Mrs. Prescott’s clean carpet and
causing the ashes to fly out in every direction. “This is awful hot now,” he said; “guess I’ll sit down here an’
wait till it cools.” So he seated himself in Mrs. Prescott’s rocking-chair, and began
to rock as composedly as though he was at home. He was a low, brutal-looking fellow, and Allie felt very much
afraid of him as he sat there rocking with his evil-looking eyes fixed upon
her. But he did not offer to molest her, and presently, to her great relief, he
rose and commenced taking down the stove. “I s’pose this ere stove-pipe belongs to dad?” he said as he took
it down. “I believe father borrowed that of somebody else,” said Althea. “Wal, I guess it’s dad’s. Anyhow, I’ll take it home,
an’ ef ‘ta’n’t, ye can git it ag’in.” Allie was too anxious to be rid of him to make any objections,
so he packed the stove, pipe and all, into the wagon, leaving a trail of soot
on the carpet all the way to the door. Allie drew a long breath of relief when he drove away. “Now what shall we do, Gracie?” she said to her little
sister, for want of some one else to talk to; “it’ll be as cold in here as a
barn, and you and I will both get sick.” “Old naughty man,” said Gracie, “to tarry off our ‘tove.” “It was the man’s stove, dear,” said Allie, but that don’t make
it any the better for us. I don’t see why they need to come after it while
father and mother were both gone;” and she almost sobbed with discouragement. Mrs. Prescott and Althea had kept so quiet since they had been
in Spring Grove that they had formed few acquaintances, and now Althea could
think of nowhere to go and stay until her folks came home. As for remaining
there, it was out of the question, for it was so cold that little Gracie would
surely get sick. It was some time before she could decide what to do. Meanwhile, she swept up the soot and ashes which Dan Lark had
scattered about the floor, and after making the room look more presentable, she
concluded to take Gracie and go to Elder Appleton’s, as that was not far away,
and she felt somewhat acquainted with him and his wife. Mrs. Appleton, an old white-haired lady with beautiful eyes and
pleasant voice, received them very kindly. When Althea had told of the visit of
Dan Lark, the old lady was very indignant. ”It is just like them Larks,”
she said; “they’re allers a-makin’ trouble for somebody. Nobody ever lived
there yit that they didn’t harass e’ena’most to death. They’re a wicked
set, them Larks, an’ I guess yer pa ‘ll be glad enough to git away from ‘em,
an’ yer ma too. Now, you tell yer folks that ef John Camp a’n’t ready to
give up the stove ye’ve bought of him, we’ve got one that you can take an’ use
jist as long as you want to. ‘Ta’n’t a very good one, but mebbe it’ll answer
some purpose.” Mrs. Appleton did her best to make the children feel at home
there, and so did her husband when he came in to his dinner, but it was a long,
weary day, after all, and Allie was very glad when she saw her father and
mother drive by on their way home. Richard could not help feeling vexed when he heard Allie’s
story, it seemed so mean and small in their neighbors to take that time (for
they knew that Mr. and Mrs. Prescott had gone away) to come and make them
trouble. He thought that at least they might have let him know a little
beforehand that they wanted the stove, that he might have an opportunity to get another. Luckily, John Camp was about ready to move, and gave up the
stove that night, so that it did not put them to so much inconvenience as it
might have done. The next morning, before breakfast, Richard sent Willie over to
the Larks to get the borrowed stove-pipe, not dreaming that they meant to keep
it. Presently, Willie came in looking as insulted as a little fellow of ten
could well look. “Father,” he said, his heart almost ready to burst with
indignation, “that mean old Ned Lark says that’s his stove-pipe and he’s going
to keep it. He talked dreadfully to me, and called me a little cub, and said
you was an old cheat and a hypocrite, and he swore, and everything.” “Well, never mind, Willie,” said his father, stroking his head;
“I ought not to have sent you in there. I won’t do it any more. Such people are
not fit for my children to be with, even for one moment. I don’t suppose
our neighbors are so much to blame as it seems, because they haven’t been
taught any better. I’ll go in there myself after breakfast, and perhaps he will
let me have it.” So after breakfast Richard started for his work, intending to
call at Ned Lark’s on his way, but he met Ned just before he got to the door. “Good morning, Edward,” he said, pleasantly; “I thought I would
call around and get that stove-pipe that your boy took by mistake yesterday. I
borrowed it, and would like to return it.” Ned planted himself firmly in Richard’s path, his face purple
with rage. “You a’n’t a-goin’ to hev that stove-pipe, I tell you,” he
cried; “I’m a-goin’ to keep it to pay for the use o’ the stove.” “I am willing to pay you for the use of the stove, whatever you
ask,” said Richard, “but you must give me that pipe, because it is borrowed;”
and he slightly emphasized the “must.” “You take one step toward my house and I’ll knock your head off
your body!” cried Ned, now raging like a madman and breaking into a volley of
oaths and curses most terrible to listen to. He poured forth the most
horrible threats, and every vile epithet in his vocabulary, until his breath
was well-nigh spent. Then Richard said, in a tone kinder if possible than that he had
used before. “Well, Edward, I shall not quarrel with you. If you feel better
to keep the stove-pipe, keep it. Above everything else, I want to live at peace
with my neighbors. I will try to buy a piece of pipe to replace
this. Good-morning;” and he walked away to his work. If Ned Lark had received a blow from his neighbor after the
tirade he launched against him, he would not have been in the least surprised ;
in fact, it was what he was expecting; but those gentle, kindly words gave him
a shock of surprise such as he had not lately experienced. He could scarcely
believe the evidence of his senses. For years he had lived at open enmity with
his neighbors. They all hated him, and he hated them, but most especially was
his wrath directed against those who professed religion and tried to follow
Jesus. Ill fared it with one of this class who had not the grace of God strong
enough within his heart to enable him to overcome evil with good, for nothing
gave Ned such apparent delight as to make a professor of religion angry enough
to quarrel, and even fight, with him, as at times had been the case. But for once the evil spirit in him was con |
