"It was amazing to see what the mother would do to keep her family looking decent with the little means she had. For Jedwort was the tightest screw ever you saw. It was avarice that had spoiled him, and came so near turning him into a beast. The boys used to say he grew so bent looking in the dirt for pennies. That was true of his mind, if not of his body. He was a poor man, and a pretty respectable man, when he married his wife; but he had no sooner come into possession of a little property than he grew crazy for more. There are a good many men in the world, that nobody looks upon as monomaniacs, who are crazy in just that sort of way. They are all for laying up money, depriving themselves of comforts, and their families of the advantages of society and education, just to add a few dollars to their hoard every year; and so they keep on till they die and leave it to their children, who would be much better off if a little more had been invested in the cultivation of their minds and manners, and less in stocks and bonds. "Jedwort was just one of that class of men, although perhaps he carried the fault I speak of a little to excess. A dollar looked so big to him, and he held it so close, that at last he couldn't see much of anything else. By degrees he lost all regard for decency and his neighbours' opinions. His children went barefoot, even after they got to be great boys and girls, because he was too mean to buy them shoes. It was pitiful to see a nice, interesting girl like Maria, go about looking as she did, while her father was piling his money into the bank. She wanted to go to school and learn music, and be somebody; but he wouldn't keep a hired girl, and so she was obliged to stay at home and do housework; and she could no more have got a dollar out of him to pay for clothes and tuition, than you could squeeze sap out of a hoe-handle. "The only way his wife could ever get anything new for the family was by stealing butter from her own dairy, and selling it behind his back. You needn't say anything to Mr. Jedwort about this batch of butter,' she would hint to the storekeeper; but you may hand the money to me, or I will take my pay in goods.' In this way a new gown, or a piece of cloth for the boys' coats, or something else the family needed, would be smuggled into the house, with fear and trembling lest old Jedwort should make a row and find where the money came from. "The house inside was kept neat as a pin; but everything around it looked terribly shift VOL. IV. less. It was built originally in an ambitious style, and painted white. It had four tall front pillars, supporting the portion of the roof that came over the porch,-lifting up the eyebrows of the house, if I may so express myself, and making it look as if it was going to sneeze. Half the blinds were off their hinges, and the rest flapped in the wind. The front-door step had rotted away. The porch had once a good floor, but for years Jedwort had been in the habit of going to it whenever he wanted a board for the pig-pen, until not a bit of floor was left. "But I began to tell about Jedwort leaning on the gate that morning. We had all noticed him; and as Dave and I brought in the milk, his mother asked, 'What is your father planning now? Half the time he stands there, looking up the road; or else he's walking up that way in a brown study.' "He's got his eye on the old meeting-house,' says Dave, setting down his pail. He has been watching it and walking round it, off and on, for a week.' "That was the first intimation I had of what the old fellow was up to. But after breakfast he followed me out of the house, as if he had something on his mind to say to me. "Stark,' says he at last, 'you've always insisted on't that I wasn't an enterprisin' man.' "I insist on't still,' says I; for I was in the habit of talking mighty plain to him, and joking him pretty hard sometimes. 'If I had this farm, I'd show you enterprise. You wouldn't see the hogs in the garden half the time, just for want of a good fence to keep 'em You wouldn't see the very best strip of land lying waste, just for want of a ditch. You wouldn't see that stone wall by the road tumbling down year after year, till by-and-by you won't be able to see it for the weeds and thistles.' out. "Yes,' says he, sarcastically, 'ye'd lay out ten times as much money on the place as ye'd ever git back agin, I've no doubt. But I believe in economy.' "That provoked me a little, and I said, Economy! you're one of the kind of men that'll skin a flint for sixpence and spoil a jack-knife worth a shilling. You waste fodder and grain enough every three years to pay for a bigger barn-to say nothing of the inconvenience.' "Wal, Stark,' says he, grinning and scratching his head, I've made up my mind to have a bigger barn, if I have to steal one.' 88 ***That won't be the first thing you've stole. A couple of cross-roads bounded it on two sides; neither,' says I. and it was bounded on the other two by Jedwort's over stone wall. It was a square, 33-fashized *alling, with a low steeple, that had a belfry, but no beil in is, and with a high square papa and high straight-backed pers It was now some time since meetings had been held there, the old society that used STONE TAKSE Laring separated, one division of 3 blaga istable chapel in the North Vilure, and the caer a the new church at 1 "He flared up at that. 'Stole?' says he, What did I ever steal?' "Well, for one thing, the rails the fre-bet last spring drifted off from Talcott's land onto yours, and you grabbed what was that bet stealing?" ***That was luck. He couldn't swear to hi rails. By the way, they'll jest come in play w They've come in play already," says I 'They've gone on to the old fences all over the farm, and I could use a thousand mere walia1 making much show.' NAV the perilarity abeat the old church POZORILY WAS that proudy had any legal title A meeting-house had been built There ▼ be le culty was first settled and ADE VIS 5 D accenza. In the course of time The War 1.41 106 1 zood framed house 7-1° 1.7 11 - June As in belonged to the "LILL ̈* Do tle, either to the house TJ TE te werd and it wasn't until L ́ de wcn Lowie has the question The H 15 how the property was to be dis Vilp the vid beo.as were carefully H. LA I NE JALFIE Vas on hand to settle Tx 7 21 2.0: 1 LF "Ik. II. "Nobody; I take the liberty. Why shouldn't I do what I please with my own prop'ty?' "Your own property-what do ye mean? 'Ta'n't your meetin'-house.' "Whose is't, if 't a'n't mine?' says Jedwort, lifting his turtle's head from between his horizontal shoulders, and grinning in the Deacon's face. "It belongs to the society,' says the Deacon. "But the s'ciety's pulled up stakes and gone off.' "It belongs to individooals of the society -to individooals.' "Wal, I'm an individooal,' says Jedwort. "You! you never went to meetin' here a dozen times in your life!' "I never did have my share of the old meetin'-house, that's a fact,' says Jedwort; 'but I'll make it up now.' "But what are ye fencin' up the common for?' says the Deacon. "It'll make a good calf-pastur'. I've never had my share o' the vally o' that either. I've let my neighbours' pigs and critters run on't long enough; and now I'm jest goin' to take possession o' my own.' "'Your own!' says the Deacon, in perfect consternation. 'You've no deed on't.' "Wal, have you?' "No-but-the society-' "The s'ciety, I tell ye,' says Jedwort, holding his head up longer than I ever knew him to hold it up at a time, and grinning all the while in Talcott's face-the s'ciety is split to pieces. There a'n't no s'ciety now, any more 'n a pig's a pig arter you've butchered and e't it. You've e't the pig amongst ye, and left me the pen. The s'ciety never had a deed o' this 'ere prop'ty, and no man never had a deed o' this 'ere prop'ty. My wife's gran'daddy, when he took up the land here, was a good-natered sort of man, and he allowed a corner on't for his neighbours to put up a temp'rary meetin'house. That was finally used up the kind o' preachin' they had them days was enough to use up in a little time any house that wa'n't fire-proof; and when that was preached to pieces they put up another shelter in its place. This is it. And now't the land a'n't used no more for the puppose 'twas lent for, it goes back nat rally to the estate 'twas took from, and the buildin's along with it.' "That's all a sheer fabrication,' says the Deacon. This land was never a part of what's now your farm, any more than it was a part of mine.' "Can you swear to these two? or to any one or two?' says Jedwort. 'No, ye can't. Ye can swear to the lot in general, but you can't swear to any partic'lar rail, and that kind o' swearin' won't stand law, Deacon Talcott. I don't boast of bein' an edicated man, but I know suthin' o' what law is, and when I know it, I dror a line there, and I toe that line, and I make my neighbours toe that line, Deacon Talcott. Nine p'ints of the law is possession, and I'll have possession o' this 'ere house and land by fencin' on't in; and though every man 't comes along should say these 'ere rails belong to them, I'll fence it in with these 'ere very rails.' "Jedwort said this, wagging his obstinate old head, and grinning with his face turned up pugnaciously at the Deacon; then went to work again as if he had settled the question, and didn't wish to discuss it any further. "As for Talcott, he was too full of wrath and boiling indignation to answer such a speech. He knew that Jedwort had managed to get the start of him with regard to the rails, by mixing a few of his own with those he had stolen, so that nobody could tell 'em apart; and he saw at once that the meeting-house was in danger of going the same way, just for want of an owner to swear out a clear title to the property. He did just the wisest thing when he swallowed his vexation, and hurried off to alarm the leading men of the two societies, and to consult a lawyer. ... The common was fenced in by sundown; and the next day Jedwort had over a house-mover from the North Village to look and see what could be done with the building. Can ye snake it over, and drop it back of my house?' says he. "It'll be a hard job,' says old Bob, 'without you tear down the steeple fust.' "But Jedwort said, 'What's a meetin'-house 'thout a steeple? I've got my heart kind o' "Wal,' says Jedwort, 'I look at it in my set on that steeple, and I'm bound to go the "That won't be the first thing you've stole A couple of cross-roads bounded it on two sides; neither,' says I. and it was bounded on the other two by Jed 'What did I ever steal?' "He flared up at that. 'Stole?' says he. wort's overgrown stone wall. It was a square, old-fashioned building, with a low steeple, that had a belfry, but no bell in is, and with a high square pulpit and high straight-backed pews inside. It was now some time since meetings had been held there; the old society that used to meet there having separated, one division of it building a fashionable chapel in the North Village, and the other a fine new church at the Centre. "Well, for one thing, the rails the freshet last spring drifted off from Talcott's land onto yours, and you grabbed: what was that but stealing?' "That was luck. He couldn't swear to his rails. By the way, they'll jest come in play now.' "They've come in play already,' says I. "They've gone on to the old fences all over the farm, and I could use a thousand more without making much show.' "That's 'cause you're so dumbed extravagant with rails, as you are with everything else. A few loads can be spared from the fences here and there, as well as not. Harness up the team, boys, and git together enough to make about ten rods o' zigzag, two rails high.' "Two rails?' says Dave, who had a healthy contempt for the old man's narrow, contracted way of doing things. What's the good of such a fence as that?' "It'll be,' says I, 'like the single bar in music. When our old singing-master asked his class once what a single bar was, Bill Wilkins spoke up and said, 'It's a bar that horses and cattle jump over, and pigs and sheep run under. What do you expect to keep out with two rails?' "The law, boys, the law,' says Jedwort. 'I know what I'm about. I'll make a fence the law can't run under nor jump over; and I don't care a cuss for the cattle and pigs. You git the rails, and I'll rip some boards off 'm the pig-pen to make stakes.' "Boards a'n't good for nothin' for stakes,' says Dave. 'Besides, none can't be spared from the pig-pen.' "I'll have boards enough in a day or two for forty pig pens,' says Jedwort. Bring along the rails, and dump 'em out in the road for the present, and say nothin' to nobody.' "We got the rails, and he made his stakes; and right away after dinner he called us out. 'Come, boys,' says he, 'now we'll astonish the natives.' "The waggon stood in the road, with the last jag of rails still on it. Jedwort piled on his stakes, and threw on the crowbar and axe, while we were hitching up the team. "Now, drive on, Stark,' says he. "Yes; but where shall I drive to?' "To the old meetin'-house,' says Jedwort, trudging on ahead. "The old meeting-house stood on an open common, at the north-east corner of his farm. "Now, the peculiarity about the old church property was, that nobody had any legal title to it. A log meeting-house had been built there when the country was first settled and land was of no account. In the course of time that was torn down, and a good framed house put up in its place. As it belonged to the whole community, no title, either to the house or land, was ever recorded; and it wasn't unul after the society dissolved that the question came up as to how the property was to be dis posed of. While the old deacons were carefully thinking it over, Jedwort was on hand to settle it by putting in his claim. "Now, boys,' says he, 'ye see what I'm up to.' 664 Yes,' says I, provoked as I could be at the mean trick, and I knew it was some such mischief all along. You never show any er terprise, as you call it, unless it is to get the start of a neighbour.' "But what are you up to, pa?' says Daa, who didn't see the trick yet. "The old man says, 'I'm goin' to fence in the rest part of my farm.' "What rest part?' "This part that never was fenced; the old meetin'-house common.' "Nobody; I take the liberty. Why shouldn't I do what I please with my own prop'ty?' "Your own property-what do ye mean? 'Ta'n't your meetin'-house.' "Whose is't, if 't a'n't mine?' says Jedwort, lifting his turtle's head from between his horizontal shoulders, and grinning in the Deacon's face. "'It belongs to the society,' says the Deacon. "But the s'ciety's pulled up stakes and gone off.' "It belongs to individooals of the society -to individooals.' "Wal, I'm an individooal,' says Jedwort. "You! you never went to meetin' here a dozen times in your life!' "I never did have my share of the old meetin'-house, that's a fact,' says Jedwort; 'but I'll make it up now.' "But what are ye fencin' up the common for?' says the Deacon. way, and you've a perfect right to look at it in your way. But I'm goin' to make sure o' my way, by puttin' a fence round the hull concern. "And you're usin' some of my rails for to do it with!' says the Deacon. "It'll make a good calf-pastur'. I've never had my share o' the vally o' that either. I've let my neighbours' pigs and critters run on't long enough; and now I'm jest goin' to take possession o' my own.' "Your own!' says the Deacon, in perfect consternation. You've no deed on't.' "Wal, have you?' "No-but-the society-' "The s'ciety, I tell ye,' says Jedwort, holding his head up longer than I ever knew him to hold it up at a time, and grinning all the while in Talcott's face-the s'ciety is split to pieces. There a'n't no s'ciety now, any more 'n a pig's a pig arter you've butchered and e't it. You've e't the pig amongst ye, and left me the pen. The s'ciety never had a deed o' this 'ere prop'ty, and no man never had a deed o' this 'ere prop'ty. My wife's gran'daddy, when he took up the land here, was a good-natered sort of man, and he allowed a corner on't for his neighbours to put up a temp'rary meetin'house. That was finally used up-the kind o' preachin' they had them days was enough to use up in a little time any house that wa'n't fire-proof; and when that was preached to pieces they put up another shelter in its place. This is it. And now't the land a'n't used no more for the puppose 'twas lent for, it goes back nat rally to the estate 'twas took from, and the buildin's along with it.' "That's all a sheer fabrication,' says the Deacon. This land was never a part of what's now your farm, any more than it was a part of mine.' "Can you swear 't they're your rails?' "Yes, I can; they're rails the freshet carried off from my farm last spring, and landed onto yourn.' 66 "So I've heard ye say. But can you swear to the partic'lar rails? Can you swear, for instance, 't this 'ere is your rail? or this 'ere one?' "No; I can't swear to precisely them two -but-' 666 666 Can you swear to these two? or to any one or two?' says Jedwort. 'No, ye can't. Ye can swear to the lot in general, but you can't swear to any partic'lar rail, and that kind o' swearin' won't stand law, Deacon Talcott. I don't boast of bein' an edicated man, but I know suthin' o' what law is, and when I know it, I dror a line there, and I toe that line, and I make my neighbours toe that line, Deacon Talcott. Nine p'ints of the law is possession, and I'll have possession o' this 'ere house and land by fencin' on't in; and though every man 't comes along should say these 'ere rails belong to them, I'll fence it in with these 'ere very rails.' "Jedwort said this, wagging his obstinate old head, and grinning with his face turned up pugnaciously at the Deacon; then went to work again as if he had settled the question, and didn't wish to discuss it any further. "As for Talcott, he was too full of wrath and boiling indignation to answer such a speech. He knew that Jedwort had managed to get the start of him with regard to the rails, by mixing a few of his own with those he had stolen, so that nobody could tell 'em apart; and he saw at once that the meeting-house was in danger of going the same way, just for want of an owner to swear out a clear title to the property. He did just the wisest thing when he swallowed his vexation, and hurried off to alarm the leading men of the two societies, and to consult a lawyer. . . . The common was fenced in by sundown; and the next day Jedwort had over a house-mover from the North Village to look and see what could be done with the building. Can ye snake it over, and drop it back of my house?' says he. "It'll be a hard job,' says old Bob, 'without you tear down the steeple fust.' "But Jedwort said, 'What's a meetin'-house 'thout a steeple? I've got my heart kind o' "'Wal,' says Jedwort, 'I look at it in my set on that steeple, and I'm bound to go the |
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