Coniston, Complete

the chestnut Morgan trotting to one side in the tracks. On one of these excursions he fell in with that singular character of a bumpkin who had interested him on his first visit

curt refusal, but put it down to native boo

distance,-and then came to what he at length discovered was a wall, and apparently impenetrable. He was not even allowed to look over it. Cynthia was kind, engaging; even mirthful, at times, sa

ered, of good habits, and there was the princely four hundred a year-almost a minister's salary! Little people guessed that there w

oing to be-not for what he was. He tendered to Cynthia a note for a large amount, payable in some twenty years, with interest. The astonishing thing to record is that in twenty years he could have more than paid the note, although he could not have foreseen at that time the Worthington Free Library and the Truro Railroad, and the st

rudest form in which it is created, perhaps, but yet with Strength. The strength might gradually and eventually be refined. Such was her hope, when she had any. It is hard, looking back upon that virginal and cultured Cynt

shes and innocent bystanders generally, the weak and the helpless and the strong and self-confident! There is no more reason in it than that. He shot Cynthia Ware, and what she suffered in secret Conis

ly tasks, which were now become manifold, and he wore the locket on its little chain himself. He did not think that Cynthia loved him-yet, but he had the effrontery to b

rst step of a little scheme which he had been gradually developing during that time, for which he had been amassing money, and the life of Napoleon Bonaparte, by the way, had given him some valuab

at was at hand. Makers of eras are too busy thinking about themselves and like immediate matters to worry about history. Jethro never heard the expression about "cracks in the Constitution," an

airman of the board. Moses laughed when he first heard of it, for Fletcher was an easy-going farmer of the Methodist persuasion who was always in debt, and the other members of the ticket, so far as Mose

the store one sunny Saturday in February, "somebody's put Fletcher up to

oakin', Lysander,

oked up, and saw Jock Hallowell standing beside her. Jock winked-and Cynthia blushed and hurried homeward without a word. She remembered, vividly enough, what Jack had told her the spring before, and several times during the week that followed she thought of waylaying him and asking what he knew

humble, having a right to vote as he chose. A most unusual line for Jabez, and the whole matter very mysterious and not a little ominous. Moses drove homeward that sparkling day, shutting his eyes to the glare of the ice crystals on the pines, and thinking profoundly. He made other excursions, enough to satisfy himself that this disease, so new and unheard of (the right of the unfit to hold office), actually existed. Where the germ began that caused it, Moses

s not so strong as he used to be, and should not have gone to the meeting at all. At

cannot discover who has incited them. All the unattached people in the town seem to have been organi

? They were only suspicions, after all, and she could make no accusations. And Jethro! Although she condemned him, there was something in the situation that appealed to a most reprehensible sense of humor. Cynthia caught herself smiling once or twice, and knew that it was wicked. She excused Jethro, and told herself that, with his lack of training, he could know no better.

ll amount to convictions, yet we cannot prove them. The reader very naturally demands some specific information-how did Jethro do it? I confess that I can only indicate in a very general w

it must be explained for the benefit of those who do not understand the word "town" in the New England senses was a tract of country about ten miles by ten, the most thickly settled portion of whi

uel. "Killed the brindle Thurs

sday-g-goin' to town meetin'

llatin' t

hain't ye-

ate t

re do ye set

that the hide might fetch, under favorable c

llate to vot

rubs hi

' Sam Price for Moderator." (What a convenient word is they when

after town meetin'?" in

ow but wh

hide-f-fetc

he jury-if you can get Samuel into court. But you can't. Even Moses Hatch can get nothing

learn of these principles? Any one in Coniston will tell you that Mr. Price makes a specialty of orators and oratory; and will hold forth at the drop of a hat in Jonah Winch's store or anywhere else. Who is Mr. Price? He is a tall, s

n, he is their mouthpiece. Get, an eel into court. There is only one man in town who can hold an eel, and

the late autumn a man in a coonskin cap stops beside Mr. Price's woodpile, where Mr. Price has been chopping

thro?" says Mr.

amin' you Moderator next meetin',"

ening up in amazement. For Mr. Price's ambition soared no higher, a

some. D-Democrat-h

callat

onian De

ss I

r. Price may feel the gavel

acksonian principles,

" says Mr. P

am-t-talk 'em up.

ks various gentlemen mentioned to Mr. Price that he had been spoken of for Moderator, and he became acquainted with the names of the other candidates on the same mysterious ticket who were mentioned. Whereupon he girded up

uel Price for Moderator? Samuel Price gives the evidence, tells

the deacons have to remind him of his duty once in a while. Eben is timid, and replies to us, as to Moses, that he has heard of the Democratic ticket, and callates that Fletcher Bartlett

fine on distant Farewell Mountain, and Eben's sheep feed on pastures where only mountain-bred sheep can cling and thrive. Coniston, be it known, at this time is one of the famous w

riendly calls. Is it not a fact that Jethro Bass holds his mortgage? Yes, for eight hundred dollars. How long has he held that

d be duly cut, and permitted Amos to talk about the position of second selectman, for which some person or persons unknown to the jury had nominated him. On his way down to the Four Corners, Jethro had merely

o?" he said nervou

looks a m

ans

ging into the dread subject, "don't kn

o town mee

atin' to," a

o town mee

ismayed, ran his ha

atin' to-but

-hain't ye-

Jethro and added in a startled voice, "Do

d the t

ot. Some one has been most industrious, and mo

ht now-right now," said Jethro. "M-may be alon

ith his head in his hands. In about two hours, when his wife called him to fetch water, he set down th

March was the week

unconsciously imitating Jethro's stutter. "Godfre

ave we not come back to our starting-point, even as Moses Hatch drove around in a circle.. And we have the advantage over Moses, for we suspect somebody, and he did not know whom to suspect. Certainly not Jethro Bass, the man that lived under his nose and never said anything-and had no right to. Jethro Bass had never taken any active part in politics, though some folks had heard, in his rounds on business, that he had discussed them, and had spr

years. Court proceedings make tiresome reading, and if those who have been over ours have not arrived at some notion of the simple and in

o

TMAN, FLETCH

on Thousand Acre Hil

ss

ECTMAN, AM

on Town's End Ridg

ss

TMAN, CHEST

the Established Chu

ro Bass, though his f

't kn

R, SAMUE

ve of oratory and Ja

.,

ston. Truth compels me to admit that the sum total of all his mortgages did not amount to nine thousand "dollars"; but that was a large sum of money for Coniston in those days, and even

ion in general. Underneath him, on the first landing of the high pulpit, the deacons sat with knitted brows,

with his head down through a white waste to the meeting-house door, and unlocked it, and shivered as he made the fire. It was certainly not good election weather, thought Moses, and others of the orthodox persuasion, high in office, were of the same opinion as they stood with parted coat tails before the stove. Whoever had stirred up and organ

, and the bent figures driving doggedly against the storm, each impelled by a motive: each motive strengthened by a master mind until it had become imperative. Some, like Eben Williams behind his rickety horse, came through fear; others through ambition; others we

or ten years. Deacon Lysander, with his white band of whiskers that goes around his neck like a sixteenth-century ruff under his chin, will soon be a memory. Now enters one, if Deacon Lysander had known it symbolic of the new Era. One who, though his large head is bent, towers over most of the men who make way for him in the aisle, nodd

the minister prays. They proceed, first, to elect a representative to the General Court. The Jacksonians do not contest that seat,-this year,-and Isaiah Prescott, four

"you will prepare your ballots for

m Price, perhaps, for he is passing them most assiduously. And what name is written on them? Fletcher Bartlett, of course; that was on the

tcher Bartlett himself-of Flet

candidate, and nominate a bette

or Chairman of

of the platform, at length shouts down everybody else-down to a hum. Some listen to him: hear the words "infamous outrage"-"if Jethro Bass is elected Selectman, Coniston will never be able to hold up her head among her sister towns for very shame." (Momentary blank, for somebody has got on the stove again, a scuffle going on there.) "I see it all now," says the Squire-(marvel of perspicacity!) "Jethro Bass has debased and debauched this town-" (blank again, and the squire points a finger of rage and scorn at the unmoved offender in the chair) "he has bought and intimidated men to do his bidding. He has sinned against heaven, and

lected. No. Had they registered his own death sentence, the deacon would have counted them straight, and needed no town clerk to verify his figures. But when he came to pronounce the vote, shame and sorrow and mortification overcame him. Coniston, his native town, w

ixty-three for Moses Hatch. Necessary for a choice,

e honored place of Deacon Moses Hatch! Bourbon royalists never looked with greater abhorrence on the Corsican adventurer and usurper of the throne than did the orthodox in Coniston on this tanner, who had earned no right

ations of his friends and the maledictions of his enemies; who rose to take his oath of office as unconcerned as though the house were empty, albeit Deacon Lysander could scarcely get

lowell's prophecy, so lig

need not recount. There is no moral to the story, alas-it was one of those things which inscrutable heaven permitted to be done. After that dark town-meeting day some of