The American Garden. 



Vol. XI. 



DECEMBER, 1890. 



No. 12. 



ACnR15TnA5 



CHAPTER I. 



HE Black Ridge stage rattled down the last stony hill in a cloud of choking dust. 

 Ten minutes more and the long weary ride would end at the village store. It 

 was a hot July day, and yet every one of the stiff leather sides of the long 

 wagon were down. They called it the stage. It was really only a three-seat 

 covered wagon with two horses. 



On either side of the rough road were tall, blasted stumps of pines — the 

 giants of the primeval forests — half lost in the scrubby second growth of tim- 

 ber. Rough mountains on every side — not a dwelling or sign of civilization in 

 sight. The driver, old Rube Snow, had nothing to say. His thoughts were 

 on the frame house in the village — upon his child. The solitary passenger in- 

 side had not spoken a word since they left the railroad — nine miles behind. 



The village store was the general meeting-place of the neighborhood. Here 

 the citizens met by common consent to settle the affairs of the nation — and the 

 village. In winter they sat around the stove ; in summer sat on the piazza steps. 



"Suppose its likely the new school teacher '11 come to-day or to-morrow or next week or some other 

 time. " 



"Shouldn't wonder a mite, Deacon, if 'twas to-day." 



" Sorter strange, Retire, to send to Bostin for a school teacher, and then again I dunno 's 'tis. All-fired 

 smart folks to Bostin !" 



Retire Hopkins and Deacon Remember Silloway were the village seniors. Retire was school commit- 

 teeman and Deacon Silloway was reported rich — for Black Ridge. As he never knew his own mind, he 

 was "much looked up to" as a person of great caution and moral stability. 



"Guess the new teacher will have a hefty row to hoe. Those big boys up ' 'Tater Hill' 's broke up 



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