3 
rocking-chair sat down; then striving hard 
to look her best, she calmly waited for her 
guest. 
Her ruddy, round and fleshy face was 
bordered by a cap of lace; her nose was 
nearly hid from view by her plump cheeks 
of healthy hue; her eyes were bright, her 
hair was thin, she had a heavy double chin; 
her husband’s ^rms, when both embraced, 
could barely circumscribe her waist. 
Of all large women, nine in ten, will most 
admire the little men, and the little men— 
why none can tell—will love large women 
quite as well. They woo, they wed—the 
man through life is quite o’ershadowed by 
the wife. 
Soon, parting with his rustic flame, the 
tardy young schoolmaster came. His eyes 
were blue, his features fair, his chin o’er- 
grown with downy hair; behind his ears 
his locks of brown were smoothly brushed 
and plastered down; his bony limbs were 
large and long; his well-trained muscles 
firm and strong; the tall, stout boys that 
years before had thrown their master 
through the door, his rod regarded with 
dismay and seldom dared to disobey. The 
pride and hope of Hubbardton was tall 
Lycurgus Littlejohn, who had, his fellow 
townsmen said, “a heap o’larnin’ in his 
head.” (Three terms in Middlebury College 
had given him his “heap” of knowledge.) 
He often used to sit between young girls 
of sweet sixteen and kindly help them “do 
their sums.” They brought him fruit and 
sugar-plums; they had their girlhood hopes 
and fears; his words were music in their 
ears; each smile he gave them had a charm, 
each frown would fill them with alarm. 
What envious looks at Susan Stow, his 
favorite scholar, they would throw ! 
Her eyes and hair were dark as night, 
her skin was soft and smooth and white; 
a peach-like blossom her cheeks overspread; 
her lips like cherries ripe and red. What 
wonder he could not conceal, the glad 
sweet thrilWie use to feel through all his 
palpitating frame when to his desk she coy¬ 
ly came, and looking up with eyes of love, 
like some sly, timid little dove, would soft¬ 
ly ask him to expound some knotty problem 
she had found? What being in the world 
below seemed half so sweet as Susan Stow ? 
her eyes would flash and strangely burn, 
and when he tried to calculate some long, 
hard “sum” upon her slate, the figures 
danced before his sight like little goblins, 
gay and white, and when at night, with 
cheerful face, he started for his boarding- 
place, what wonder that he came so slow, 
in walking home with Susan Stow ? 
The woman crossed the kitchen floor to 
meet Lycurgus at the door, and, with a 
scrutinizing stare, she said: “Walkman’ 
take a chair, an’ be at home while you are 
here. Come, Busby, take his things, my 
dear.” 
Forth from his corner by the fire, the 
husband came at her desire. His head was 
bald, save here and there stray little tufts 
of grizzled hair; his shoulders stooped, his 
form was thin; his knees were bent, his 
toes turned in. He wore a long blue flan¬ 
nel frock, gray trousers and a satin stock; 
a cotton collar, tall and queer, was rudely 
rumpled round each ear; his face was mild, 
his smile was bland, as forth he put his 
ponderous hand and said: “I think I see 
you well; I hope you’ll stay a leetle spell. 
We’re plain folks here, I’d have you know, 
and don’t go in for pride nor show.” Then, 
after stepping on the cat, he took the 
teacher’s coat and hat; he hung them on a 
rusty nail, and, picking up his milking pail, 
he slowly shuffled out of doors and went to 
do the evening chores. 
Close by the firelight’s cheerful glare Ly¬ 
curgus drew the easy chair. The savory 
steam of chickens slain came from the 
black pot on the crane. The kettle’s merry 
song he heard; upon the hearth the gray 
cat purred; while, by the chimney corner 
snug, the house dog dozed upon the rug. 
Along the chimney-piece of wood an idle 
row of flat-irons stood, two candlesticks in 
bright array, a pair of snuffers and a tray. 
The time-worn clock ticked slowly on; it 
struck the hours forever gone. “Forever 
gone,” it seemed to say—“Forever gone,” 
from day to day, in its tall case of sombre 
hue,—’twas fifty years since it was new. 
Between the windows, small and high, the 
looking-glass was hung, near by a brazen 
bird, with wings outspread, perched on the 
scrool-work overhead; beneath, a shelf, the 
common home of family Bible, brush and 
