MARTH' SNELL.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5567, 16 May 1896, Page 2

MARTH' SNELL.

"Waal, what'd the Cap'n say 'baout it?" "What'd he say 'baoiit it? Why, he was jes's mad's anybody could be. Thet's what he said 'baout it." Joe Paine had just returned to his home in Ogunquit from Boston, whither he had gone to notify Captain Sam Bell that ;Mrs Bell was dead. The Captain was the ; master of a coastwise schooner, and sailed past the village of Ogunquit, bound from Eastport to Boston, the very day that his wife died. From the roof of the Captain's barn, which commanded a view of the sea, one of the neighbours attempted to signal the news of death by waving an enorcnouß piece of crape tied to a stick, but the signal was not properly read by the Captain, and he kept on his course and did not know that he was a widower until Joe Paine, who had been particularly directed to break the news gently, came at him in Boston with a " Say, Cap'n, I'm tur'ble sorry t' be obleeged t' tell ye on it, but the old woman's dead." "What old woman?" demanded the Captain. \ " Why, yourn, o' course," responded Paine. " Thuuder'n lightnin', whose 'd; ye spose 'twas ? " ' It was concerning his interview with the Captain that Mr Payne was questioned by one pf the company of Ogunquitters, which had gathered about . the stove in the grocery store at the corner. " So he was reel mad 'baout it, was he?" queried Deacon Butterfield. " Thet's what I said," impatiently answered Mr Paine. ' " Don't blame him a bit," mused the Deacon. " Lizy was a very extryordinary woman. The Cap'n '11 hey toler'ble hard work fillin' her place." "That may be," responded Mr Paine, "but I guess he's got one pooty nigh picked aout, 'cordin' to what he said when he'd got over s'prise 'baout Lizy'sdeath." " Why, what'd he say ?" demanded half a dozen, all at once. "He jest axed me a question, thet was j all," answered Mr Paine. "He an' me was agwine daown into the cabing when all of a suddihg he turned squar' *raound, an' says, says he — " * Whar's Marth' Snell naow ?' " j Martha Snell had been a widow for a great many years. She had lived by herself, managing the farm Snell had left her, growing a little more forehanded as each' winter passed away. She had had chances enough to take on a new lord and master, but she had turned a cold shoulder on everyone who had suggested matrimony to i her. Everybody in Ogunquit could name at least half a dozen men who had tried to win Martha; indeed, she never drove up to the Post Office for the mail that somebody did not recount to the storeful how she had "sot daown "on some one of the villagers who had undertaken to marry her. On such occasions many an Ogunquitter had registered a vow in his inmost soul that if he ever should be so unfortunate as to lose his wife, he would lay siege to Martha. This did not signify that Martha was a , much-admired woman, but that a sentiment was prevalent that somebody should be able to conc|uer her. It was not meet, the Ogunquit men thought, that Martha shonld go about the village, year in and : year out, holding all of them in contempt. Captain Bell had made his conditional vow just like the others. "'Tam't 'tall, likely I'll do any more marryin'," he said, only six months before, when he was home for a couple of days between voyages, "but 'f I do, Marth' Snell's my woman." He said it to a small circle of his particular friends, one of whom had just recounted how' Martha only the day before had "sacked Si' Good'in." The Captain's friends laughed at him. • " We've hearn slathers o' talk like thet, Cap'n," said one of the group, "but they ain't none on 'em got away with the old critter yit. She's jes's peart to-day as she was ten years ago. They've ben at her all ways 'f a Sunday but she's Marth' Snell still, an' as the minister said t'other Sunday, she'll be Marth' Snell yist'day, t'day, an' f'rever. Haow 'd you purpose gwine t' work, Cap'n, any diff'rent from j any o' the rest on 'em ?" " I ain't purposin' nothin' jest yit," answered the Captain, " an' I hope I shan't never hey to, 'cause they ain't no better wife top o' the graound 'n Lizy Bell is, but I want you t' underatan' one thing — " " An' thet is ?" prompted one of the listeners, the Captain having come to an abrupt pause and turned to look out of the window. " Pooty good caow 't Gitchell's got this time. Look's though she'd hold her own with most any on 'em inilkin'," said the Captain when he had had his look out. '•' Yes, Cap'n ; but haow 'baout what you was sayin' 'baout Marthy ? You was jes' tellin' on us they was one thing 't you wanted us t' imderstan'. Naow what wast you was 'ludin' to ?" "Why/a nswered the Captain, "it's jest this. They ain't no use scratchin' your head 'fore you hey to. When the time comes t' marry Marth' Snell, I'll find a way o' gittin' on her, an' don't you be'larmed thinkin' 't I won't. I want you t' understan' one thing —I ain't follered the sea for forty years ? thaout lai'nin* they's nothin' too hard for a man t' do that's got courage an' a leetle sense in the,usin' on 't." Whoever has taken note of the curiou things that happen through the association of ideas must admit that it did not betoken heartlessness that a thought of Martha Snell should enter the captain's mind just at a time when, according to the nature of things, he should have been overwhelmed with sorrow at the loss of his wife. The news of Lizy's death was entirely unlooked for. She had been a strong, well woman all her life, and the Captain had left her only three weeks before in perfect health. What could be more natural tnan that, after the shock of""1;he death news had passed away, the Captain's mind should dwell upon the unexpectedness of the sad event, and that he should be reminded that for years he had accustomed himself to the expectation that he was to die first, and not Lizy. O f course there was bound to come recollection of a certain fcime when he had given expression to this expectation. " If s funny," mused the Captain, "thet the very thing 't I was speakin' 'baout only Jast fall, when I was t' hum, shonld 'a' tuk place so soon. Why, I ne/er tho't nothin' diff'rent 'n' thet Lizy'd aoutlive me ten year. I never tho't when I was talkin' t* Clim Bascom an' George Hatch an' the rest f on 'em 'baout niarryin' Marth' Snell, thet they'd' ever be call for me t' do it. I never keered nothin' 'baout Marth' Snell. Mebbe she's married herself by this time." Then came the question to Joe Paine, " Whar's Marth' Snell naow ? " the question which Paine had interpreted as inj dicating that the Captain intended to I establish the redoubtable widow in Lizy's 1 place. But the Captain had no such intention. In his customary abrupt way he had asked the question that was in his mind, and the chances are that he considered the question of such slight importance that he didn't even hear Mr Paine answer, " Guess she's livin' up f the old place same's ever." . The Captain went home leaving the schooner in charge of the mate. " You'll ; hey t* make the next run 'thaout me," he J said; "they'll be consider'ble many things 1 1' do arter the f un'ral." j So it happened that when Lizy had been buried the Captain found himself alone in the big house with the prospect of being its only occupant for an entire fortnight. It was not long before a senee of lonesome- ; ness came to him. He tried to drive it off

by working about the place. He mended the fences, swept the barn, and tidied up* the cellar. Then he tinkered away at the shutters so that when he should get ready to dose the house they might be able to co-operate with him. After that he did anything and everything that he could think of doing. But it was all in vain. • " Aint no use," he said to himself, " I've an awful good mind t' burn np the hull place an' never set eyes "bn't agin. I never Mn live here alone. I'm wus off'n Eobi'son Crewso." '..'•' Now and then it came into his mind that perhaps another wife might make the old house comfortable, but this thought he smothered as quickly as possible, considering it quite improper. He was ashamed that he could not banish it from him permanently. "Skasely buried one wife, an' thinkin' 'baout another ! " he exclaimed one morning, stopping short in his work. "I wish t' thunder I could put a good, big dose o' strap ile on my back for dpin' on't." The Captain's wrath against himself was even greater when the inevitable thought came that Martha Snell was decidedly a capable woman, and would take prime care of his home. "Confaond Marth' Snell!" h> 'oarsl- c- . ."Wonder what Lizy'd think o'm?"i->> kuowed that I was purposin' to ms >:■■ Marth' Snell's quick's this !" But " Marth' Snoll" had con: a to -- \ in his mind, and he couldn't gt.t r.d ox Finally he gave up trying, and t; ; tn.(. !i f I ■ a sort of modus vivendi with lit i . "Guess it's like persecutuf " '"t " Folks thet's persecuted gits I; u-i; d;-«< ••■ up, an' up, an' up, an' fußttb !■■■•: . .-* i- r ,t. ■<,- they're good deal powerf uller'n .- *<i;..l 'a' ben 'f nobody hedn't done nothin' to 'em. Reckon I hadn't better worry 'baout this business no more." After that the Captain joked with " Marth' Snell." "So you're gwine t' marry Marth.' Snell, be ye, Cap'n?" he soliloquised. "Waal, thetfs right, Cap'n. A man can't hey tew many wives, an' he ain't got no bus'ness foolin' 'way his time gettin' a new one when the stock's ran aout. I'd wait, though, six weeks or so 'fore I started in to do much courtm'. Guess they ain't no danger 't-anybody else'llgit there fust." If the Captain had known, where safety lay he wouldn't have taken up with this method; he would have run away from .Ogunquit. In the end he found that he couldn't get Martha Snell out of his mind by joking. " Jokin's 'baouf s bad's persecutin'," ho said to himself. "I can't laugh Marfch' Snell daown no better'n I could skeer her daown." ■ Bat really it was the great lonesome house that was making captive of the Captain and compelling him to ponder on a matter which he was decidedly averse to thinking of. Poor old chap, how lonesome it was for him ! " I ain't never comin' back f this haoitso agin," mused the Captain one night, just as he was going to bed. " Sot raound here all the evenin' thaout hevin' nobody t' talk to ! Got t' git up 'n the niornin' an' git my own breakfast ! Cuss it all, a man 'thaout a wife's *baout the miser'blest critter'n the country. By thunder! I get madder 'n madder every time I think on't," and showing that he really was considerably worked up, the Captain flung one of his boote across the room as though he would drive it through the wall. That night he dreamed of Martha Snell — dreamed that she had married him and was caring for him and the house in a most delightful manner. He woke up dreaming of Marfcha. ." Cap'n," he heard a voice say; "guess you'd better be gittin' up 'thaout ye want t' eat your flapjacks cold. I'm gwine f begin cookin' on 'em right away." " Yes, Marthy," the Captain answered, " I'll be daown inside o' tew seconds." " Cap'n ! " the voice called again. " Yes, I'm comin'," answered the Captain, " I heerd, ye an' hollered back 't I'd be daown 'n less "nno time." " Cap'n ! " called the voice again, and this last cry awoke the Captain and ended the illusion of the .dream. It wasn't Martha Snell calling to flapjacks who had awakened the Captain but Joe Paine, who wished to know if he could "borry that four-tiued dungfork." The Captain was angry enough to kill Paine, but he managed to control himself, and graciously gave Paine permission to carry off the fork and anything else that he had need of . That afternoon the Captain was forced to agree with himself that as soon as the " proper " time should come he would seriously consider the matter of. marrying Martha SnelL The "proper" time he placed pretty well ahead, not designating a particular day, nor week, nor month— simply saying " bumbye." "Ain't no good denyin' on't," said ho. " I've got t' hey' a wife, an' Lizy'd say so's quick's anybody. Arfcer all, come to think on't, it's a compliment t' Lizy thet I should git f thinisin' so soon 'baout hevin' somebody t' take her place — shows she was a good wife, an' so she was — nobody never lied no better." " Got a notion t' drive over t' Marfchy's haouse an' take a look at her," mused the Captain a little later; "sorter sail raound her dncet or twicet an' see what she's like these days. Wouldn't let on nothin', though; 'baout what's rannin' in my mind." The more he thought of this scheme the better he liked it, and next morning he proceeded to put it into execution. The sun had barely risen when he drew his Concord waggon out of the carriage-house and proceeded to wash and grease it. After breakfast he washed and greased himself, and put on his best pilot-cloth suit. Then he hitched i\p his horse, got into the waggon, and sung out, " Gitap !" "What be I gwine. t' say t' Marthy?" the Captain suddenly asked himself after he had been riding along for half an hour. "Haow be I gwine t' make it look net'ral for me f come tea udlr -'c;->it k e m a\Ai cm her?" He was in s.chv .■.ft':- i'^ot! ~*~f- , : fore he had solvent tt>o $•••< . ■ ; out his line of ;»,-iuv. -I, "Haow d' <Jb, M.i.r." : ..!-. . •: called out as he sh>pyn;.' . ."■•..• of the " end" dx>r uf : •:.- caught a glimp^ :A ?. stood gazing. .;<, ih window. " Fwli:: Mavthy ?" /'Why, Cap';. \k ; ' . -;-.-h ■•■ ■'■ : '■-,- widow, "'s that >•■•.•* • . :■ ■/;■'•■> W"s Bon . Why didn't ye f'it-ab "nc-r i-;« to? .-■' To the CaphPu':? ;:i«;.f; x-l:.f, Martha did not wait for answers to her questions, but went on to bid him welcome. " Hitch your boss, Cap'n," she said, " an' walk stret int' the haouse. 111 be daown in half a minute. Jest lookin' over the fius a leetle t' see 'f they've got plenty o* camphire in 'em, thef s all." "By the gre't horn spoon!" muttered the Captain, as he climbed out of his waggon. "Thet's 'baout the awkidest thing 't I ever hearn tell on. She don't know nothin' 'tall 'baout Lizy's death, Thet upsets my cackerlashuns." But before the Captain had finished hitching his horse to the staple in the big elm tree, it occurred to him once more that hG had "follered the sea for forty year," and then his confidfinee returned to him. He stepped into the house with a feeling akiu to that which he had often experienced out at sea when trouble had come upon him out of the clouds. A little spasm of grief which seized upon him while he was waiting in the parlour for Martha to come down helped rim along wonderfully, as it turned out' " I must be consider'ble broke up t' be doiu' this sort o' business, I wisht I'd 'a 1 died instid o' Lizy—" That was the thought that oame to him, and before he knew it, he was biting his lip to keep from crying. . When Martha entered the room Ehe found the Captain with his handkerchief to his eyes, apparently weeping. The Captain didn't know that she had come to him. " Why, Cap'n Bell !" exclaimed Martha, "what be you doiu' on ?" The Captain extended his right hand, still holding his handkerchief to his eyes with his left. As he grasped Martha's hand Jig sobbed out. "You've knowed mo , consider'ble many yeai-J, Marthy, but fort

never see me cryin' 'fore this. I ain't the ' man I was, Marty, naow't Lily's gone." "Lizy gone! Where's she gone to ?' " Gone f heaven, Marthy. * Lizy's -with the angels naow, if they is any, an' I'm left all alone in the world, an' I'm an awful lon'sbme critter." Martha was not, strictly speaking, a soft-hearted person, but she could not but be touched by the sight of a big six-footer weeping like a school girl. She, too, felt the need of a handkerchief, and promptly set to -work fishing for one in the pocket of her gingham dress with her free hand — the Captain still held one of her hands in his — and she felt that it would indicate that she lacked pity for him should she take it away from him. " "I didn't know't Lizy was dead," said Martha. " " Guess it must *a* happened while I was over 't my sister's place in Agamenticus. Ben up there a week takih' keer o' her oldest boy. , Coirie nigh heyin' pneumony, but we pulled him through. Did Lizy hey pneumony?" "No? she went off pooty nigh's qiuck's yep. mid say scat! „ Heart guv aout, "AivJ Marthy," continued the .Captain, as ho st- rted in to tell a white lie, which, in- hte> judgment, the circumstances dei r ian:ir;l. "think o' me all alone in thet big >.cioi-s«! Nobody f talk to; nobody f ■:oci tbe vittles; nobody f make the bed ■fear's though .I'd go'n jump daown int J • > well. I stood it jes's long's I could, an' • '■-. ,-a F Pitched up the hoss an' started aout • r-r.&i"- I didn't keer tew cents where I .. weia {v>: r any road thet took me away from tht:; Ira -use was good 'nough. Fust thing J kcdwjd, I was : gwine by your place, an' thinks J/I'llgoinan' see Marthy a minute, Jin.' li'jiu I be. Ain't a very entertainin' caller, but I recMn you know haow to make 'lowances for thet, Marfchy. You've ben there yourself, ain't ye, Marthy ? I know naow haow you must 'a' felt when Thomas died, poor thing." . " YesycCap'n," answered Martha, sobbing as she spoke. "I know what your feelin's is. If steejis business bein' left all alone in the world." • . They were sitting on the haircloth sofa now. The Captain had relinquished his hold of Martha's hand. He made no answer to her .last speech. He buried his face in his handkerchief and wept rocking himself to and fro. Presently he felt a light touch upon his shoulder and heard Martha say in sympathetic tones ! "Don't Cap'n; I can't bear to see ye talrin' on like thet." " You're right, -Marthy," the Captain cried, jumping to his feet ; " I ought to be ashamed to set here boohooin'. I won't do it no more. I'll jest go long and 'tend to bus'niss an' tr/n not remember notbin' *baout my b'reavement. But, Marthy, I'll never forgit one thing. I'll never forgit baow kind you've been to me this lnomin'. Good-bye, Marthy, good-bye." With this the Captain seized both of Martha's hands and squeezed them, biting his lips all the while to restrain 'his tears. He stood in front of Martha long enough to let her see that he really had been crying ; then he gave a parting wring to her hands and strode hastily to the door. The Captain had forgotten all about his errand. His only thought now was to get out of the house as quickly as possible and put an end to the spectacle of a full-grown man making a baby of himself. ' "That's the wrong door, Cap'n!" cried out Martha, as she saw with alarm that the Captain was letting himself into the cellar. But the warning was given too late. Before its. last word was spoken Martha heard the Captain go bumping down the staira. She was after him like' a flash. Through the open door she saw him in a Heap upon the cellar floor. ."Be you hurt, Cap'n?" she asked Anxiously. No answer but a groan. She was quickly down the stairs and at the place where the Captain lay. She raised his head gently into her lap, and crushed the hair back from his forehead. The Captain feebly opened his eyes. •Where be 1?" he. inquired almost inaudibly. . Then suddenly he seemed to recover jonsciousness, and to understand what had nappened, and he looked up into Martha's face and smiled. * "Be you hurt, Cap'n?" asked Martha Again. "Jest a bit dizzy," answered the Captain ; "thefs all. I guess if you'll kinder stiddy me up the stairs 111 be all right in a leetle while. Must a skeered ye like thunder, didn't it, Marthy ?" " Skeered me ! I should think it did. I aever was so searb in my Hf c. Tho't you was dead, fust off. "Naow you jest lay daown on the sofy a few minutes 'fore you start agin," continued Martha. "Wait till I fix thet pDler. There, be you comf 'table naow?" "Yes, thank ye," responded the Captain, * only my head feels a trifle cur'ous, sort o' stundid, like." " Guess I'd better put a leetle painkiller onto it, Cap'n," suggested Martha. " Wouldn't bother to do thet, Marthy." " Ain't no bother 'tall Ifs right nigh by here in the closit. You jest keep still a minute, Cap'n, an' I'll mix a leetle on it with some water in a chiny bowl an' gin your forehead a bathinV Martha hurried out to the kitchen, where the water was, and soon came back with half a bowlful, into which she put a teaspoonful of the painkiller. Then she got a soft linen rag, wet it, and placed it on tbe Captain's temples. As she sat there the thought came into her mind that for the firat time since her husband's death, twenty years before, she was filling the r6le of ministering angel to a man whose brow was wrung with pain and anguish. Perhaps she didn't think in presisely those words, but her thoughts were Df similar import. It came into her mind, too, that it was a shame for a woman, so mpable as herself of taking good care of a man, .not to have one about the house. Further still her thoughts ran. She actually woirderf-il lio^ ?ho would like to take jarc of .th* Ciiptak'. uliing the place of the • : ; , < ■ ' v?c p »ood husband," she ..'.:' ' kc oo <> 'baout Lizy." •3 • :3 i:\iain lay still and : - I ■.'■; ■-. > sver, he reached up ;„ • =■:"■:' ■■•; ] v --.:3d it down upon ; .:. '■::. il . i n, pressed upon the /-iV .>. 2y-.vi> jjix ' ; .>renead. "That iJels no cjo>>3. Marthy," he said. ■■ Bi- v •■; i.trtv.L-i Cap'n?" inquired tu.tu'f.n&. "Yes, Marthy," replied the Captain, "I Cccl pooty nigh right naow. But do you Know, Marthy, I hate t' git up an' go ' way. ftlebbe it'll saound turTrie wicked to you, Marthy, but sence I've ben layin' here, I'vef elf s though I didn't wantf leave you an' go aout into the lon'some world agin. Do you thinks wrong for me f feel thet way, Marthy? Would you be willin' to take care of an' old good-for-nothin* feller like me all the rest of his life when he want follerin' the sea ? 'Cause if you would, Fd come 'raound an' axe ye t' do it arter we'd waited long 'nough so's people wouldn't talk 'baout us an' say we was in a good deal of a hurry." ■ " . " You ain't af eared o peoples talk, be ye?" demanded Martha, sharply. "No, I ain't, but I tho't mebbe you might be." " Well, I ain't." . \ . . But on reflection Martha decided that it really would be best to put off the wedding for six months. '■„■• . "I s'pose they would talk pooty hash; abaout us," she said.

The Danube flows through countries in which fifty-two languages and dialects are spoken. It is 2000 miles in length, and bears on its current four-fifths ot the commerce of Eastern Europe. The middle-aged maiden lady who was imprisoned for brawling in a Clapbam church, no sooner gained her liberty than she a^ara visited the church, repeating the disturbance. She persists in singing betore the congregation commence, and continuing after they leave off. She also walks about the aisle during the sermon. She was summoned once more, when a gentleman Came forward and gave an assurance that the defendant would not repeat the annoyance. The magistrate, in adjourning the summons, warned her that if she placed her foot in the gbwfih agaja she WojU| fee seat to prison. '"'->: ;j\ .'.... '.$•:/:':...