YUBA COUNTY  Nuggets

Yuba Delta

June, 1915

LITERARY

THE INTERRUPTED HONEYMOON

    Gay ripples of laughter, shouts of advice, and the last good-byes came to the ears of the bridal party as the big touring car smoothly glided from the door to begin its journey to the station.  It was one of those beautiful days of real early spring that often follow in the wake of a great storm, and nature with all her creatures was rejoicing in the warmth of the sunshine.

    Earlier in the day some concern had been expressed about the condition of the roads, but that had been forgotten in the bustle and scurry of getting safely started.  Now, as they were at last on their way and with none too much time to spare, this same concern readily returned to the four travelers.  But the cousin of the bride, who, being a late arrival from England, was wholly unfamiliar with this western life and who would have been far happier back in his beloved England, was the first to express his fears.  Fixing his monocle firmer and turning to his companion he asked, "Ah, I say now, do you suppose the water will be deep in the lower crossing?"

    "O, Bess and I learned to swim in Pacific Grove last summer, and I am sure you gentlemen can swim," laughed Nann, that young lady burdened with the responsibility of a bridesmaid and distinguished by the additional honor of accompanying the happy pair on the first lap of their honeymoon.

    "Bother now, I didn't have the least idea we'd have to swim.  I only thought we might not be able to cross," exclaimed the astonished man.

    His look of astonishment not unmixed with horror brought Bess to his rescue with, "Never mind Nann, she always was too frivolous for any good use."

    Although he was informed of Nann's worthlessness, he was by no means convinced that she had not meant what she said, as the troubled expression on his brow gave evidence. And he was soon to be assured, in his own mind, that Nann had been planning "a honeymoon swim," so to speak, and was only thwarted in her intention by the muddy appearance of the water.

    When the car rounded a curve in the road, Bess gasped and turned to Nann saying, "It looks as if we will have to swim."  For all before them the road lay a sheet of water.  Drift had dammed the stream, and the water was following the roadbed for a distance of over fifty yards.

    They debated a moment about going through, but thinking that the water could not be overly deep, they started across.  As they went on, the stream became deeper and deeper and the occupants of the car found themselves with the machine full of water, their knees raised to the elevation of their noses, and the luggage sharing their seats.  When they were half way through, the engine sputtered, skipped, and stopped.  They were marooned in a lake of water.

    No one said a word.  Nann looked out at the water, and her companion thinking she was preparing to dive, seized her by the arm exclaiming, "Ah, I say now, please don't swim.  I - I - I'll - We'll carry you out."

    Reality had somewhat subdued that young lady's spirit, and swimming was the farthest from her mind, yet the temptation was too much to resist so her reply of "O, Mr. Chechester, will you?  Then I won't have to spoil my new suit," led him to believe that she had been contemplating setting out.  And her emphasis on "you" showed her utter disregard of his plural subject so plainly that he was convinced that he and he alone was the chosen one to do the aquatic act.

    Mr. Ellerick Chechester turned a sickly yellow at the very thought of carrying a perfectly healthy young lady over that muddy expanse of aqueous space.  Why, there would be deep holes, of course, into which his feet would slip, no doubt throwing him down, and he would drown and take with him to his watery grave, that beautiful and radiant creature by his side.  Even if he should escape such an ignominious end, there would more than likely be all kinds of filth and vermin washed down from the highlands.  Why, there might even be a snake, one of those dangerous reptiles of the rattle variety, that he had heard about!  At the thought of the snake his courage departed, leaving him ready to starve to death in a touring car rather than combat the waves of a mountain torrent.

    "O - o, Harry!  We'll miss our train.  We'll - "began Bess, but Harry's, "Never mind, dear, we'll make it all right," interrupted her.  So saying he began to scramble out to search for the seat of trouble, all the while grumbling to himself, "I wonder what's the matter with the plagued thing, anyway?  The road is hard and the water can't be in the carburetor."

    Nann was unusually silent for her, as Harry splashed about getting out the tools and tinkering about the engine.  When at last he looked up, his face covered with mud and grease, he was greeted by a very tremulous, "Oh," from Bess, and a very weak, "Can't you make the bally thing go?" from Mr. Chechester, but never a word from Nann.

    "I'll have to go get a team of horses, I guess, to pull us out," Harry said as he began to put away what tools had not fallen into the water, "I can't find anything wrong with it."

    Bess, "Try it again, maybe it'll work now," and "Couldn't you get out and push, Ellerick, to help?" added as an afterthought, brought forth an agonized, "- I - I - I cahn't get out."

    Scorn in capital letters was written on Nann's face as she said, "Don't insist, Bess, he might get his little 'toeses' wet."

    Whatever Sir Ellerick's feelings were on this score, he did not commit himself, but kept the silence, if not the steadiness, of an Egyptian mummy.

    The attempt to start, failing, Harry again crawled out advising the girls and Ellerick to get their feet on the seats and make themselves as comfortable as they could under the circumstances, for it was quite a way to the nearest farm house, and he would be gone some little time.

    But as he turned away, Nann called to him, "You had better look at the gasoline."

    "It can't be out.  I filled the tank before we started."  Although he replied in such wise, he investigated with the aid of Ellerick's cane and found the tank empty.  He drew back in astonishment.  "Some measley jokers took most of the gasoline out," he stated.

    "Why, really now, the nahsty things.  I just won't stand for it. They'll have to bring it back, immediately," blustered Ellerick.

    But Bess and Harry never knew what he said.  All they heard at the time or remembered afterwards was Nann's confession, "O, Harry, I am one of the 'measley jokers.'  Lois and I let it run out because we thought it would be great fun to have you miss the train and have to stay over on the ranch, and then we'll give you and Bess a charivari tonight.  But I never thought we'd get stuck in water, or I never would have done it."

    "Now, Nann, ever since I have known you and Lois, you have made my life miserable, but I never thought you capable of such a dirty trick," censured Harry.

    "Don't you know now, Old Timer, it would have been a jolly fine joke, if it hadn't been for this bally water," Ellerick was quick in Nann's defense, and so earnest he nearly fell into the water.

    But all the British Admiralty couldn't have set Nann right in Harry's eyes; he fairly threw the can back at Ellerick and glared at Nann saying, "Well, for your fine poke, we'll miss our car, but I tell you we won't stay on the ranch for any charivari.  We'll go to town if we have to go in a dead axe wagon."  He turned away and tried to make a dignified retreat to dry land on his way for help, but he made anything but a dignified figure splashing through the water.

    "Oh, Nann, how could you do such a thing?  Harry'll catch cold and―and―d-i-e-," sobbed Bess.

    "Don't you know, now, Bess, little girl, I don't believe Miss Nann would have done this if she'd thought that we would be stranded in the water," gallantly defended her cousin.

    However, Nann was having trouble with her throat and facial muscles, so could not follow his lead.  Silence reigned supreme, broken only by Bess' subdued sobbing, while Nann made silent resolutions never to be a practical joker again (which let us hope she kept) and came to the conclusion that Ellerick was not such a bad sort after all.  That young gentleman squirmed uneasily in his awkward position. Soon, however, their horizon cleared, for who can be sad and cross on a beautiful morning in early spring, for in California "then if ever, came perfect days?

    They were happily chatting when Harry returned with a can of gasoline and a grinning farmhand, who almost went into spasms when he saw the predicament of the poor Englishman.

    Harry's temper was also greatly improved and soon the car was out.  It was evident that his mind had changed about staying on the ranch, for they drove back to Bess' home and that night Nann and Lois were the belles of the gathering.

    We heard when we were up in those parts last summer that Nann was living in an ancestral residence in that City on the Thames.

R. Harter, '16; M. Walsh, '16.

The Evolution of a High School Student

    Enrollment in high school is generally a red letter day to most students.  Enrollment consists not only of choosing one's subjects and becoming registered in them, but also of adapting oneself to the course.  For the benefit of prospective Freshmen a little discourse upon this interesting subject would not be out of place at this time of the year.

    Before becoming a high school student it is customary and traditional to secure a grammar school diploma.  A diploma may be procured in various ways.  The simplest and most unscientific method is to play the part of the turtle who matched his aggressiveness as a track star against the rabbit.  Another method is to organize a system of espionage similar to some of the elaborate systems of Europe.  This latter method calls for great athletic strength and power to subdue any rebellious subject who is likely to turn state's evidence.

    After acquiring this certification that " 'John Doe,' having completed the studies required, etc.," it is time for the future student to think of the glory and achievement to be obtained in high school.  Thinking of a high school education does not mean a process of mental effort, because when the average person is graduated from grammar school he has no time for such a strain; and besides, no one would think of accusing the person of such a thing.  But it means consulting the whole family from the picture of "Grand-pa What Fought in the War" to the cat.  Surrounded by adoring female relatives and wondering male relatives, and in the midst of scattered piles of literature dealing with the higher education of the brain, the would-be student decides that he will take four easy subjects the first year, and will gradually ascend to the real labor.

    Accordingly he appears on the first day of the new term at the office of the principal, or any other place where he is sure to be in the way, and then makes himself generally uncomfortable.  After listening to the words of wisdom, often unheeded, from the principal, his mind becomes a beautiful labyrinth of juggled facts, non-facts, and just plain facts.  He then changes five or six of his subjects, changes back, unconsciously does some Algebra and other impossible things, and ends by having no subject; but simply flows gently with the tide to the principal's office which has become the haven of drifting ships like himself.  After reorganizing his army of routed thoughts, he comes forth once more into the world with an aim in life.

    At this stage of crystallization he has visions that would make the "Vision of Sir Launfal" apologize for existing.  He rules five or six transcontinental railroads, reorganizes the governments of several states, and becomes President of the United States.  Soon these day dreams are washed out of his system by ways only too well known by "the man higher up."

    Upon coming to the conclusion that Sherman forgot high school life when he gave his well known idea of war, he settles down to "show 'em."  If he is one of those who have obtained the "grammar school degree" by the system once famous in San Francisco, he finds as was so quaintly stated of another object, that "this is a white horse of another color."  Here he learns that work is not only spelled w-o-r-k, but that it also means it.  Upon overcoming what he thinks are stonewall obstacles and showing some of that tenacity often ascribed to the bulldog, he becomes a Sophomore and thinks high school is "not so bad."  Living another year he enters the Junior Class and is "in love" with high school.  Existing one more year his aim is accomplished, he becomes a Senior and a great man, so he thinks.

Paul Langenbach, '15.

THE WAGES OF SIN

    That evening I was called to look over Gibson's papers, what few there were.

    I had been Chadwick Gibson's attorney in his days of plenty, when the first of each month brought a good-sized retainer, and I remained his adviser in his poverty, and was nothing loathe to lend my service gratis.

    I could not bring myself to be long in a room where but three nights before, a good man, even with his faults, had been cruelly murdered, so I gathered up everything which looked as if it might be important, and arriving home, retired to my den for the night. 

    The contents of most of the papers had to do with his recent failure and were of no significance, but one fat looking document I was sure was significant, so I opened it.

    I might say here, that Gibson had failed completely, one year previous, in cotton, and being destitute, had descended to the office of clerk in the firm he had formerly managed.

    Three nights before the one in question he had been found with a stiletto in his breast, cold in death.

    As I said, I opened the document.  After an examination, I found it to be a diary of some period of his life.

    I am not one to pry into the affairs of others, but thinking it my duty to read the diary, I did so.

    It ran:―

"May 28―

    "I have decided to take a trip.  A vacation, some place.  I need one badly.  I don't know what's the matter with me, but I feel out of sorts all of the time.  Dr. Reed says it is dissipation.  I am sure he is mistaken, but nevertheless, I am going; where I haven't decided as yet.

"May 30―

    "I have decided to take an ocean trip.  Upon Dr. Reed's advice, China will be my destination.  I am sure it will prove interesting, and, if I go there, Merril and James will go, too.

"Later―

    "I have seen Merril and James, and we sail on the fifth.  That's pretty quick.  I am glad this is the slow season as far as I'm concerned.

"May 31―

    "Spent today in arranging for the voyage.  We have a good ship, but not a fast one.  We are to stop at Honolulu for two days.

"June 5―

    "I have been so busy, that I have had no time to write, or to call my meals leisure.  One would think I was never coming back from the letters and farewells I'm receiving.  I'm beginning to think I'm popular.

    "We sail at ten-thirty this morning, and as I have only an hour more, I will write my last words in America for a while.

"June 7―(On board Prince Chin Fui).

    "This is the life on the ocean wave.  I am really proud of my stomach.  I think I'll take a sail boat back.  As far as we've gone the voyage agrees with me, and so far, I agree with my surroundings.  Very congenial people, too.

    "Merril has a list of places to visit, in China.  I doubt if we get over half of them.

     "He vividly describes Sin Fu temple as he remembers it from his previous voyage, and I'm going to make a specialty of that, at least.

"June 12―

    "Honolulu reached.  It's of no importance to me, however, for I explored every nook and corner of the place, two years ago, and will be glad to get started, only that while we're in port we have more fresh foods than 'board ship' on high seas.

    "The days seem awfully long and dismal.  Merril is down sick and James is recuperating, so I am left to myself.  The people are no so congenial as I at first thought.

"June 16―

    "There is nothing doing at all.  Days so long and gloomy, I am going to return on the fastest boat available.  Sea food is detestable.  I never saw such unsociable people.

"June 21―

    "After an interminable length of time on one of the rottenest boats on Chin Fu line among the most uncongenial people that ever existed, we have sighted Hongkong, and in two hours we'll be anchored safe and sound in the harbor.

    "I wish I could go back by rail.

    "Merril and James are both up, and can hardly wait for the landing.  Merril swears he's going to cross Asia and Europe and go home Atlantic way, because the sea voyage is so much shorter, and, by George! I believe I'm with him.

"June 22―

    "Hongkong is quite modern.  Except for the inevitable marks of Orientals, it is quite like an American or European city.

    "Tomorrow we visit Sin Fu, the most exquisite place of worship in Asia.  It's pecuniary value is inestimable.

"June 23―

    "I met Wing Fah, the priest in charge of Sin Fu, last evening.  He is very well educated; speaks English almost without accent.  He appears subtle and cruel; also very suspicious of foreigners.  There is something lurking beneath that smooth surface of politeness.  Altogether, I formed a very unfavorable opinion of Wing Fah.

    "We visit his temple, tomorrow.

"June 24―

    "In all my travels, in all my life, I have never seen a more beautiful sight than Sin Fu temple.

    "The building itself, built on the pagoda style, is magnificent.

    "Inside is beauty unsurpassed.  There in the center, only half visible in the dim light, sits Buddah, horrible, but gorgeous, in his jeweled robes.  Around him are silks, jewels, and gold in abundance.

    "But more wonderful than all; in the outstretched palm of the grotesque statue lies the great Limiring, the wonder of the world; the sacred stone of the Chinese. There it lies with its blue, gold, and green lights playing about it.  A weird fantastic spectacle; awe inspiring in its exquisiteness, surrounded, as it is by priceless treasure.  The stone actually fascinates me.  I cannot conceive of anything more beautiful.  I really long for it.  I must visit the temple again.

"Later―

    "I retired late, but that stone, the Limiring, is all I can think of.  I do not wonder these disbelievers worship it.  I wish it were where my eyes could feast on its unexcelled beauty.  My sleep is broken by dreams of having it for my own.  I feel as though I must have it.  Tomorrow I am going to the temple.

"June 25―

    "Merril and James are going into the country today, but I on pretense of being ill, in one hour, will visit the temple of Sin Fu; and alone.

    "I slept not a wink last night for thinking of it.

    "I think I am losing my mind through sheer idolizing of it. 

"Later―

    "For one solid hour I stood gazing, enraptured by the very sight of that gorgeous stone.  The heathen devil, Wing Fah, awakened me from my meditation.  I think the sordid dog is suspicious of me.

    "That stone lives!  It calls for me to grasp it and worship it.  O! that it were mine.  That it were even in my power to purchase it.  My fortune, my position, my existence, would I give for it.  To have it!  To hold it!  There is something so wonderfully vast and incomprehensible about its effluence.  I am sure it speaks.  Never before have I been so affected by anything; but - I must possess it.  But - it cannot be bought.  It is priceless.  There is but one way:  I must - but no!  I can't do that.

    "I wish I knew how this was to end.

"June 25―(Shortly after midnight).

    "I am possessed.

    "As I lay half asleep, I had a vision.  O! it was horrible, its suggestion.  I am afraid it is irresistible.  I am about to do what I was in mortal fear I should do.  I am being goaded by supernatural desires into stealing the Limiring, to stealing it.  I must write this.  I can confide in no one, and I shall go mad with sheer wishing for it.

    "But there are drawbacks; one, I forgot to mention.  Before the hand of Buddah, in which lies the stone, is a basket filled with venomous reptiles, eager for the life of some person, as myself, drawn toward the stone by its irresistible charm; the other, that detestable creature, Wing Fah, who sits cat-like, alert, the night through.

    "Ah! I have a way of overcoming one of the obstacles.  From the small, unoccupied house, a block away, I will tunnel to beneath the altar. Then, oh then, and not till then will I be happy.

"June 27―

    "Today I am sick.  Genuinely, this time.  I have had that fear of the unseen, hanging over me, and the wish, the desire, for the stone which shall soon be mine.  It is depressing.  But as soon as I am able, I shall tunnel - tunnel to happiness, so to speak.

"July 3―

    "What with being ill by day, and tunneling by night, I have been too busy to record my doings.

    "I can hardly wait.  I am sure I am within a few feet of the altar, and tomorrow night ――.  Then shall I feign terrible ailments, and return to America immediately.

    "I hope to eliminate suspicion by being carried to the ship.

    "Thank God, I had presence of mind enough not to speak of the stone to anyone.  I think I am free from question.

"July 6―

    "At last, within my left hand, I hold the most precious of all things, the object of my striving.  Now am I happy.  Tomorrow I embark for home.

    "But my encounter I must relate.

    "At nine o'clock last night I thought it safe to venture out, Merril and James having gone to a little village some miles away.

    "I took a dark cloak with me, and crept stealthily out, without being seen, to the little house.  I had gauged my distance directly beneath the altar, and with the crude pick and shovel, I had bought from a nearby gardener, I began scraping away the earth on the roof of my cave.  I made a hole just large enough to admit my body.  The passageway stretched just large enough to admit my body.  The passageway stretched just large enough to admit me until I came to the place where I thought the altar ought to be.  There is widened.  As I was twisting my shovel about, all of a sudden it went through; through the ground to darkness.  No stars shone above, so I was sure I had gained the entrance to the temple.

    "My heart beat hard and fast, as with some difficulty I raised myself to the ground above.

    "I hardly dared breathe lest I arouse Wing Fah, keeping his nightly vigil in the grounds about the temple.

    "I rose up and looked about me.  I had come up near the far side of the temple, but luckily did not strike the wall.  Furtively, I crept to the doorway.  The stars gave a dim light, which made the scene gruesome to the extreme.

    "The tapers sputtering in the oil lent a most weird and horrible aspect to the scene at that midnight hour.

    "Silently I glided across the room, and kneeling upon the silken rugs, I reached for 'It.'  But - a noise!  My heart leapt.  What was it?  Was I discovered?

    "No!  It was a snake.  Thrusting its head over the top of the basket, it hissed.  Its furious eyes gleamed at me in the semi-darkness, and I could see its tongue darting in and out.  Was I thwarted in my purpose?  After all my work, was all lost?  No.  I stepped softly around to the side of the statue, and by a deft moment snatched my coveted treasure from the cupped palm of the heathen god.  As I clutched it, I was so utterly happy, elated, filled with triumph, that I wanted to cry out.  I could scarce contain myself.

    "By all effort, I collected myself, and remembered that I had more to do that night; to return to the hotel, unnoticed; to hide my gem.  I descended to the pit, and dragging my tools after me, I crawled to the house, with my dark cloak about me.  I slipped out and toward my stopping place.  Pausing by a small river on my way, I dropped my tools into it, knowing they would sink and not be found soon enough to be made use of as evidence.  I then proceeded, and reached my room unrecognized.

    "Here I sit with my treasure, the only object that I ever passionately worshipped in my hand.

    "I shall conceal it in a cartridge on the home voyage."

*    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    *

    Here there occurred a plain change of conditions on the part of the writer.  The writing was slightly different, the paper of a cheaper grade, the writing in pencil.  It ran:

    "It has been exactly four years since I last wrote anything in my diary.  During that time I have become a wreck, financially and morally.  Drink has laid its furious, grasping hands upon me and I am no more than a common drunkard.

    "My brain, dulled by alcohol, refused to serve me, one fatal day, and I invested foolishly and recklessly in cotton.  I lost absolutely everything.  From that time on I have been gradually lowering until now - well, I am an outcast.  My 'friends' dropped me, and, having no relations, I am nobody.

    "But, ah, what a solace!  I have my stone.  My Limiring!  Sometimes I have thought it was my stealing the stone for which I am being punished.  But no! that which I idolize could not make me so utterly miserable.

    "In my destitution my Limiring has cheered me, and kept me from taking my life, which is of no use to me or to anyone else on this earth.

    "As I looked over those few weeks in China, I thanked the thought which prompted me to visit the country.

    "For lack of a confidant as in the old days I write this.

    Here there seemed another pause.  The writing was disorderly and sprawling.  As I glanced over it hastily, it seemed to radiate despair:

    "O! A thousand devils have reached up and dragged me to my doom!  My past life has been one of laxness, but surely I deserve a better fate than this.  I am pursued by something horrible, grotesque but yet unseen.  For this day my crime of years has been discovered.

    "I took my washing to the Chinese laundry today, as usual, but did not notice, particularly, a rather distinguished looking Mongolian who was standing in the room.  He showed no interest in me, aside from a careless glance as I handed my bundle to the Chinaman.  But as his glance swept over me, it alighted on my hand, where the ring with the glorious stone encircled one of my fingers.

    "His eyes bulged.  He became rigid, his features became distorted as with rage.  His face was a dark yellow.  He writhed in apparent anguish.  His hands clutched and his body twitched.  I cringed before this fearful, frightful spectacle.

    "With a mighty effort he controlled himself and his eyes traveled upward to my face.   His gaze seemed to cut into me like a knife.  Without removing his galling scrutiny, he glided to my side and catching my arm pulled me toward the back of the establishment.

    "For some reason I went unresistingly.  On, on through passages, curving, winding we went, arriving at length at a room richly hung with Chinese hangings, but reeking with nauseating Oriental odors.  He thrust a stool toward me, and then seated himself.  He then bent his head toward me, and in the gloom of that room, in the gloomy recesses of Chinatown, I recognized with appalling surety, Wing Fah, the detestable Chinese priest.

    "His mouth twitched, and he clasped and unclasped his hands as if aching to seize me.  But instead, he spoke low and gutturally.

    " 'For four years, have I sought you.'  His tone grew in volume, and his countenance more hateful.  'Four years have I scoured the large cities, never suspecting you to be in San Francisco.  Being banished from my own country until I should recover the Limiring, and avenge Buddah, I searched and searched thoroughly.  At last I am rewarded.  In one week I shall return to China in triumph.  And you ――?'  At this stage he pulled out a long stiletto and producing a handkerchief, with grim irony, he ran it over the blade.  It fell upon the floor, cut in two.

    "Then to my utter amazement, he arose, replaced the stiletto, and motioning me to follow, led the way to the wash house. At the door he told me to return home; not to flee, for it would be useless.

    "Glad to be out of the evil smelling place, I walked unsteadily homeward.  Deep and complicated are the workings of the Chinatown of a large city, for on every corner on my homeward path, stood a Chinaman.

    "What Wing Fah means I cannot say, but I feel sure murder is his end.

    "Here I sit powerless!  I dare not tell the police.  I dare not leave the city, I dare tell no one.  I must die like a dog at the hands of that reptile, Wing Fah!  Despite my faults, I deserve a better fate.  My cup has been long and distasteful, but the dregs are bitterest.

"Later―

    "Wing Fah is here:  telling me to write my last words on earth.  I must die at his hands.

    " 'The Wages of Sin Are Death.'

    "O! My God, I am helpless, I come to You.  I go!"

M. Farwell Brown, '18.

THE HONOR OF THE FAMILY

    Chlorinda Podmore's wedding day had come.  The guests were assembled.  Old man Podmore proudly presided over "Chlorindy's presents" spread out to public admiration in the sitting room.  The Reverend Charles Applegate arrived, and the bridal party came out of the spare bedroom into the focus of the limelight.

    The ceremony began in the most solemn and impressive manner.  Chlorinda's mother was crying softly, out of pure sentiment; Chlorinda's father was grinning and pulling at his thin whiskers, out of pure satisfaction.  Jim Haymound, the bride-groom, was turning red and white, out of pure misery.

    "James Llewlyn, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, so long as ye both shall live?"

    There was a prolonged silence. Every eye was fixed on Jim Haymound, and every eye saw the red flash that crept up the back of his neck, burned his ears, suffused his face.  Chlorinda pinched his hand.  The clergyman whispered encouragement.

    "I will," he prompted good-naturedly.

    "No," thundered Jim, "I won't."   

    For one brief instant everything went stock still in breathless amazement.  Chlorinda Podmore uttered a weak gasp, and fainted.  Her mother let out a shriek and followed suit.  Her father plowed his way to the front rank.

    "What?" he yelled.

    "I've changed my mind," quoth Jim.

    Saying this he turned, was out through the open window before anyone could stop him, and had fled for the woods.  Old Josh had to go to the shed for the muzzle loader, so that he was a full three hundred yards behind Jim.

    Poor Chlorinda Podmore!  She was not so young as she had been, and the passing of the years had brought with them a great and ever growing respect for the holy state of matrimony.  She was a good girl, and if her face was homely, her heart was none the less kind; but Cloverville was too small a place for her ever to live down her calamity.

    Old man Podmore went about like a raging lion.  He had failed to overtake the scoundrel who had brought disgrace upon the whole household; for when Haymound had once gained the friendly shelter of the woods, he vanished.  His house was watched to no purpose; he did not go home, and his hired men knew nothing of his whereabouts, or at least said he didn't.  So Joshua Podmore went roaring about the countryside, threatening what he would do when he got hold of that "Haymound feller."

    At the end of three weeks Jim Haymound unexpectedly came back, and went about his business in the usual way.  He had just been over to the city for a spell, he said, and he had gone there on business, not because he was afraid of old Josh Podmore; to prove this assertion he brought back with him a leather cartridge belt and a big pistol, and wore them wherever he went.

    The news reached old man Podmore the morning after Jim got back.  He didn't poke his nose outside the house all that day, but at night, after it was dark, he slipped out by the back way and around the fields to Jim Haymound's domicile, quite forgetting to take the muzzle loader with him.

    Jim was home.  He and his hired man were toasting their boots on the kitchen stove when Josh Podmore walked into the room.

    "Wanter see you alone, Haymound," Podmore snapped.

    "Certainly.  Well, Tom!" he glared at the hired man.  "Didn't you hear what the gentleman said?  Git out!"

    "Er - want your gun, sir?"

    "Git!" cried Jim.  He turned mildly toward the visitor.

    "Won't you set down, Joshua?"

    Joshua sat down.  For a full minute he pulled his whiskers before he spoke.  "I reckon you know what I'm here for," he said abruptly.  "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

    "Dunno, as I ben thinkin' about doin' anything in pertickler," mused Jim.  "A man's got a right to change his mind, ain't he?"

    "What?" snorted Podmore.  He shook his head angrily.  "Betcher life y' ain't, not when its a weddin' you change it about.  I ain't gonna have you triflin' with the tender feelin's of my only darter.  She's got grounds for a libel suit, consarn ye.  She can have ye up for alimony, and breach o' promise, and divorce, and a hull lot o' things like that.  An' what's more to the p'int she's a goin' t' do it."

    Jim's face blanched suddenly.  "I ain't got nothin' agin Chlorindy," he said soothingly.  "Y' see, Joshua, when me'n Chlorindy agreed to git tied up, it was with the distinct understandin' that I was goin' t' be boss; and she went and kicked over the traces first to-off.  I ain't goin' t' marry any woman as wants the hull county lookin' on an' critercizin!  Marryin's a sacred institooshun, an' concerns the contractin' parties only.  Thet's allus been my theory.  I ain't goin' to marry her ef―"

    "Who's askin' ye t' marry her?" broke out old Podmore.  "I wouldn't let you marry her after what's happened.  Not ef ye was the Prince of Gazob.  But ye've gotter make repairin's fer all the wounded feelin's and the disgrace my darter suffered three weeks ago Friday.  I hev an idee, which I come here to propose to ye, and ef ye don't agree―"

    "What's the idee?" said Jim.

    "This is it.  Seein's ye publicly said ye wouldn't hev Chlorindy, ye oughter give her a chance to publicly say she won't hev you.

    "We'll hev another weddin, with the same folks there as was there three weeks back. Then when the preacher says to Chlorindy, 'Will ye hev him?' she kin hev the chance t' say back, 'No, I won't',' jes' like you done, and I reckon tha'd corter square matters, and recover her dignity an' sech for her.  The honor of the family has been shattered, an' demands repairin', an' me, the head of the family demands it.  What d'ye say to it?"

    "It's a good idee," agreed Jim thoughtfully.  "As you say, Joshua, I guess it was rather hard on Chlorindy, with all them tongue-waggers present.  I don't mind obligin' you -  for the honor of the family, but as for marryin' Chlorindy―"

    "Aint' I said I wouldn't let ye marry her now ef ye was a millyunaire?" cried old Podmore irascibly.

    "It's a go," said Jim.

    And that is how another wedding party came to assemble in the Podmore parlor one month after the fatal Friday.  The same guests were invited, and, needless to say not one of them was missing.  Old man Podmore presided over the presents in the sitting room, the same presents.  The Reverend Charles Applegate, who knew nothing of the secret compact, again arrived, and again the bridal party came out of the spare bedroom into the focus of the limelight.  Once more the ceremony began in a solemn and impressive manner.  Once more the minister said: "James Llewelyn, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife, so long as ye both shall live?"

    "Yes, I will," said Jim calmly.

    An audible sigh passed through the room. The ceremony went smoothly forward to the other question:  "Chlorinda Amelia, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, so long as ye both shall live?"

    "I will," said Chlorinda clearly.

    Jim Haymound turned as white as the bride's veil, and tremblingly gave Chlorinda a violent nudge.

    "Chlorindy," he whispered frantically, "you was to say 'I won't.' "

    "Hush!" she admonished, "I've changed my mind."

    "Let us pray," said the Reverend Charles Applegate.

Julia Laney, '15.

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