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bring home the soul of Pugwash. He sent his wife to bed, and sat with his eyes upon the Dutch clock, anxiously awaiting the conjurer. Twelve o'clock struck, and at the same moment Father Lotus smote the door-post of Isaac Pugwash.
“• Have you brought it?' asked Pugwash.
666 Or wherefore should I come ?' said Lotus. Quick : show a light to the till, that your soul may find itself at home.'
66 • The till !' cried Pugwash; what the devil should my soul do in the till?
“Speak not irreverently,' said the conjurer, but show a light.'
66 . May I live forever in darkness if I do!' cried Pugwash.
6 • It is no matter,' said the conjurer; and then he cried, • Soul, to your earthly dwelling-place! Seek it — you know it.' Then turning to Pugwash, Lotus said, 'It is all right. Your soul's in the till.'
“ • How did it get there?' cried Pugwash in amazement.
“ * Through the slit in the counter,' said the conjurer; and ere Pugwash could speak again, the conjurer had quitted the
“ For some minutes Pugwash felt himself afraid to stir. For the first time in his life he felt himself ill at ease, left as he was with no other company save his own soul. He at length took heart, and went behind the counter that he might see if his soul was really in the till. With trembling hand he drew the coffer, and there, to his amazement, squatted like a tailor upon a crown piece, did Pugwash behold his own soul, which cried out to him in notes no louder than a cricket's, . How are you? I am comfortable.'
“ It was a strange yet pleasing sight to Pugwash, to behold what he felt to be his own soul embodied in a figure no bigger than the top joint of his thumb. There it was, a stark-naked thing with the precise features of Pugwash; albeit the complexion was of a yellower hue. •The conjurer said it was green,' cried Pugwash: as I live, if that be my soul — and I begin to feel a strange, odd love for it - it is yellow as a guinea. Ha! ha! Pretty, precious, darling soul!' cried Pugwash, as the creature took up every piece of coin in the till, and rang it with such a look of rascally cunning, that sure I am Pugwash would in past times have hated the creature for the trick. But every day Pugwash became fonder and fonder of the creature in the till : it was to him such a counselor and such a blessing. When
ever the old flower-man came to the door, the soul of Pugwash from the till would bid him pack with his rubbish; if a poor woman — an old customer it might be — begged for the credit of a loaf, the Spirit of the Till, calling through the slit in the counter, would command Pugwash to deny her. More: Pugwash never again took a bad shilling. No sooner did he throw the pocket-piece down upon the counter than the voice from the till would denounce its worthlessness. And the soul of Pugwash never quitted the till. There it lived, feeding upon the color of money, and capering and rubbing its small scoundrel hands in glee as the coin dropped — dropped in. In time the soul of Pugwash grew too big for so small a habitation, and then Pugwash moved his soul into an iron box; and some time after he sent his soul to his banker's, — the thing bad waxed so big and strong on gold and silver.”
“ And so," said we, “the man flourished, and the conjurer took no wages for all he did to the soul of Pugwash ?”
“Hear the end,” said the Hermit. “For some time it was a growing pleasure to Pugwash to look at his soul, busy as it always was with the world-buying metals. At length he grew old, very old; and every day his soul grew uglier. Then he hated to look upon it; and then his soul would come to him, and grin its deformity at him. Pugwash died, almost rich as an Indian king; but he died shrieking in his madness to be saved from the terrors of his own soul.”
“And such the end,” we said ; “such the Tragedy of the Till ? A strange romance."
“Romance!” said the Sage of Bellyfule: “sir, 'tis a story true as life. For at this very moment how many thousands, blind and deaf to the sweet looks and voice of nature, live and die with their souls in a Till !”
SARAH ORNE JEWETT, an American story writer, was born at South Berwick, Me., Sept. 3, 1849. She is a daughter of the late Professor Jewett, a well-known medical writer, who gave her a good education at home and at the academy of their native town. Her knowledge of the world was enlarged by extensive travel in Europe and America; and her writings — which, however, relate mostly to New England — have, in consequence, a not inconsidcrable historical value. Her carlier works were issued under tho pseudonyrı ALICE ELIOT. She began her carcer in authorship very early in life; and in 1869 she brought herself before the general reading public by the contribution of a story to the Atlantic. Her published works includc “ Deephaven” (1877); “Play-Days” (1878); “ Old Friends and New” (1880); “ Country By-Ways" (1881); “ The Mate of the Daylight” (1883); “A Country Doctor” (1884); “A Marsh Island” (1885); “A White Heron” (1886); “ The Story of the Normans" (1887); “ The King of Folly Island and Other People” (1888); “ Betty Leicester" (1889); “Strangers and Wayfarers ” (1390); “Mr. Tommy Dove" (1892); “ A Native of Winby” (1893); “ The Life of Nancy”; “The Country of the Pointed Firs” (1896).
(From "Deephaven.") 1 I am sure that Kate Lancaster and I must have spent by far the greater part of the summer out-of-doors. We often made long expeditions out into the suburbs of Deephaven, sometimes being gone all day, and sometimes taking a long afternoon stroll and coming home early in the evening hungry as hunters and laden with treasure, whether we had been through the pine woods inland or alongshore, whether we had met old friends or made some desirable new acquaintances. We had a fashion of calling at the farmhouses, and by the end of the season we knew as many people as if we had lived in Deephaven
1 By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. Copyright 1877 by James R. Osgood & Co.
all our days. We used to ask for a drink of water; this was our unfailing introduction, and afterward there were many interesting subjects which one could introduce, and we could always give the latest news at the shore. It was amusing to see the curiosity which we aroused. Many of the people came into Deephaven only on special occasions, and I must confess that at first we were often naughty enough to wait until we had been severely cross-questioned before we gave a definite account of ourselves. Kate was very clever at making unsatisfactory answers when she cared to do so. We did not understand, for some time, with what a keen sense of enjoyment many of those people made the acquaintance of an entirely new person who cordially gave the full particulars about herself; but we soon learned to call this by another name than impertinence.
I think there were no points of interest in that region which we did not visit with conscientious faithfulness. There were cliffs and pebble-beaches, the long sands and the short sands; therc verc Black Rock and Roaring Rock, High Point and East Point, and Spouting Rock; we went to see where a ship had been driven ashore in the night, all hands being lost and not a piece of her left larger than an ax-handle; we visited the spot where a ship had come ashore in the fog, and had been left high and dry on the edge of the marsh when the tide went out; we saw where the brig Methuselah had been wrecked, and the shore had been golden with her cargo of lemons and oranges, which one might carry away by the wherryful.
Inland there were not many noted localities, but we used to enjoy the woods, and our explorations among the farms, immensely. To the westward the land was better and the people well-to-do; but we went oftenest toward the bills and among the poorer people. The land was uneven and full of ledges, and the people worked hard for their living, at most laying aside only a few dollars each year. Some of the more enterprising young people went away to work in shops and factories; but the custom was by no means universal, and the people had a hungry, discouraged look. It is all very well to say that they knew nothing better, that it was the only life of which they knew anything; there was too often a look of disappointment in their faces, and sooner or later we heard or guessed many stories : that this young man had wished for an education, but there had been no money to spare for books or schooling; and that one had meant to learn a trade, but there must be some one to help his father with the farm-work, and there was no money to hire a man to work in his place if he went away. The older people had a hard look, as if they had always to be on the alert and must fight for their place in the world. One could only forgive and pity their petty sharpness, which showed itself in trifling bargains, when one understood how much a single dollar seemed where dollars came so rarely. We used to pity the young girls so much. It was plain that those who knew how much easier and pleasanter our lives were could not help envying us.
There was a high hill half a dozen miles from Deephaven which was known in its region as “the mountain.” It was the highest land anywhere near us, and having been told that there was a fine view from the top, one day we went there, with Tommy Dockum for escort. We overtook Mr. Lorimer, the minister, on his way to make parochial calls upon some members of his parish who lived far from church, and to our delight he proposed to go with us instead. It was a great satisfaction to have him for a guide, for he knew both the country and the people more intimately than any one else. It was a long climb to the top of the hill, but not a hard one. The sky was clear, and there was a fresh wind, though we had left none at all at the sea-level. After lunch, Kate and I spread our shawls over a fine cushion of mountain-cranberry, and had a long talk with Mr. Lorimer about ancient and modern Deephaven. He always seemed as much pleased with our enthusiasm for the town as if it had been a personal favor and compliment to himself. I remember how far we could see, that day, and how we looked toward the far-away blue mountains, and then out over the ocean. Deephaven looked insignificant from that height and distance, and indeed the country seemed to be mostly covered with the pointed tops of pines and spruces, and there were long tracts of maple and beech woods with their coloring of lighter, fresher green.
“Suppose we go down, now," said Mr. Lorimer, long before Kate and I had meant to propose such a thing; and our feeling was that of dismay. “I should like to take you to make a call with me. Did you ever hear of old Mrs. Bonny ?”
“No,” said we, and cheerfully gathered our wraps and baskets; and when Tommy finally came panting up the hill after we had begun to think that our shoutings and whistling were