The Miller Of Old Church

ky road to the mill-race which ran above a silver stream known as Sycamore Creek. The grist-mill, a primitive log building, worked after ancient methods, had stoo

leaves drifted down to the deep pond below. Across the slippery poplar log, which divided the mill from the road and the house occupied by the miller, there was a stretch of

nd of Scripture text quoted in the voice of his mother. Above his head several strings of red pepper hung dryin

own mind when He was speakin' it," remarked

cradle a power of self-denial at which her pastor had marvelled, she had continued to sacrifice her inclinations in a manner which had rendered unendurable the lives around her. Her parents had succumbed to it; her husband had died of it; h

e called now from the kitchen. "You've been lookin' kind of sallow these last

it away," he retorted irr

by the feelin'," rejoined Sarah grimly, "an' if you know w

ll, but the reaction from the spirit of racial submission which was embodied in Reuben Merryweather. Tradition had bound Reuben in thongs of steel; Abel was conscious only of his liberated intelligence-of a passionate desire to test to the fullest the certainty of that liberation. As the elder had suffered beneath the weight of the established order, so the younger showed the disturbing effects of a freedom which had resulted from a too rapid change in economic conditions rather than from the more gradual evolution of class. When political responsibility was thrust on the plainer people instead of sought by them, it was but natural that the process of adjustment should appear rough rather than smooth. The land which had belonged to the few became after the war within reach of the many. At first the lower classes had held back, paralyzed by the burden of slavery. The soil, impoverished, wasted, untilled, rested under the shadow of t

the paling gate at the branch road which ran into the turnpike a mile or so farther on. In Abel's dreams another house was already rising in the fair green meadow beyond the mill-race. He had consecrated a strip of giant pine to this purpose, and often, while he lingered in the door of his mill, he felt himself battling against the desire to take down his axe and strike his first blow toward the buildi

off the dishes!" called his mother again in her rasping voice which s

erly while eating that. She was a woman of some sixty years, with a stern handsome face under harsh bands of yellowish gray hair, and a mouth that sank in at one corner where her upper teeth had been drawn. Her figure was erect and flat as a

old people sat with their small, suspicious eyes fixed on the pan of mush which Sarah was dividing with a large wooden spoon into two equal portions. Each feared that the other would receive the larger share, and each watched anxi

akably that she should not be given the larger portion of food. Her rheumatism was severer than her husband's, and it seemed to her that this alone should have entitled her to the greater share of attention. There was

who had allowed her coffee to grow cold while sh

ad which made her chuckle with pleasure, and when her mush had been covered, she croaked out suddenly that she would take her breakfast unsweetened. "I'm too bad to take sugar-giv

tened and grew gentle. From the front steps to the back, the kitchen was filled with them. Boxes, upturned flour barrels, corners of china-shelves and window-sills, showed bowers of luxuriant leaf and blossom. Her calla lilies had long been famous in the county; they had taken first prizes at innumerable fairs, and whenever there was a wedding or a funeral in the neighbourhood, the tall green stalks were clipped bare of bloom. Many were the dead hands that had been laid in the earth clasping her lilies. This thought had been for years the chief solace in her life, and she was accustomed to refer to it in the heat of r

til the buckwheat cakes should be ready. The coloured servant was never allowed to cook because, as Sarah said, "she could not abide niggers' ways,"

of his wife, Blossom's mother, some fifteen years before, he had become more gloomy, more silent, more obstinately unapproachable. He was one who appeared to dwell always in the shadow of a great grief, and this made him g

who helped himself with his knife. When she passed them to Abel, who was feedi

d. He was the only one of Sarah's sons who ever considered her, but she wa

ss about my comfort, Abel, and do mo'. Buckwheat cakes don't come well from

s in one of her nagging moods, he knew, and she disturbed him but little. The delight and the desire of first lo

must eat her tasteless mush. "He's got the stomach to stand i

itously. She had never failed in her duty to her husband's parents, and this

nd her old chest heaved with bitterness because grandfather, who was thre

t of a belated wasp, and Sarah, rushing to the rescue of her flowers, cuffed the animal soundly and placed her in

kfast," remarked Sarah, in an aggressive tone that meant battle

l, as he rose from his chair. "Solomon Hatch sent me hi

Solomon Hatch, a little pasty faced

ie do it? What

rned Archie sullenly, "he's got some young d

the voice and manner of a martyr. "It's rabbits or girls, one or the other, and

nged to a dull red

ther, an' I'll never speak to y

arrel," remarked Abner, the silent, who seldom spoke except for the p

cause a solution had been found and her grievance was annulled. "If a girl ain't a fast one that get

her calla lilies. There was an agony in her breast, though she would have bitten out her tongue sooner than have confessed