Simple Cross Stitch
k Towels Quickly Done
I
Pattern 1302
You’ll enjoy doing these—they
go so fast! You’ll enjoy owning
them—they’re so effective! The
simple cross stitch dishes contrast
so well with the dainty flowers.
Any bride-to-be would be delighted
with a set of these—they’d cer
tainly make an effective Fair do
nation. Lose no time, for you’ll
want to make a number of sets.
Pattern 1302 contains a transfer
pattern of six motifs averaging
4 by 8 inches; illustration of all
stitches needed; color suggestions;
material requirements.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
to The Sewing Circle Needlecraft
Dep... 82 Eighth Avenue, New
York. N. Y.
Write plainly pattern number,
your name and address.
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PATTERNS OE
WOLFPEN
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^ niuJiratiorvr •>» Qlr*i»vMy*t*»-»
V’W' ’Y%V'' ^
Cafy~f»r a, Ta Saaas.Maaalll Ca WNV StHV/(t
CHAPTER XVI
—19—
THROUGH the next weeks after
Reuben had gone Cynthia was
much alone in and about the house.
She would often stand by the well
in the evening, the days visibly
growing longer, watching the shad
ow of the Pinnacle glide up the
hillside and finally rest its finger on
the fresh graves of Sparrel uud Ju
lia, sweeping them into the eternal
quiet of the dust. In a year. One
procession of the seasons, spring
to spring. From the garden behind
the picket fence, from the steam
mill. to the profound silence of
Cranesnest Shelf. As the days
passed with their thought of Reu
ben and the life ahead, the finality
of the procession began to seem
supportahle to her, so much grief
tempering the heart to the sorrow
inherent in a precarious life. The
way lay onward and not back and
was filled with a degree of hope
bravely disproportioned to the de
feat of yesterday.
The mountain laurel against the
sun-wanned rocks of the Pinnacle
would he Hushing pink at the bud
hearts, and the birds would be wel
coming the return of unother
spring. She would go there now to
meet them and weave Reuben and
her vision of life with him into the
memory of that place where she
had through the years communed
with herself.
In the afternoon she went out
through the barnyard, down into
the just perceptible green mist In
the orchard, across the creek, step
ping through the low sound of the
water playing umong the rocks in
the bed, and then the sharp climb
up the steep contours of the path.
It was good to feel again the mus
cle pull In her calves and thighs,
the thump of her heart, the sweet
Intake of fresh breath, to see the
valley begin to spread and drop
away, to hear the cattle, the sheep,
the chickens, recede below her. Step
by climbing step she mounted up
ward out of the events that had
assaulted the Wolfpen Hollows in
a year. She felt her soul growing
calmer, released from the sharp
clutch of ever repeated broodlngs:
Shellenberger, lumbering, Julia,
Sparrel, the place; the place, Spar
rel, lumbering, Abral, Julia; Reu
ben and the vision of him taking
possession of her.
At the I’innacle she passed her
hand over her forehead, lifting her
head, breathing mountain air into
tier mouth, feeling exalted by the
triumph of glad animal life over the
depression of spirit. She wandered
around the rock ledges of the Pin
nacle, peeping down the abrupt
emptiness to the creek and mill be
low, examining the miracle of col
umbine extracting sustenance from
a break In the rock, musing on the
timeless heavy flopping of crows’
wings, the effortless sailing on the
wind up and down over Wolfpen
and Gnnnon. There were cnrdinals
In the boughs of the pine tree on
the edge of the precipice. She sat
on the ledge with her feet resting
on the last shelf and looked across
the valley, yielding to her unword
ed thoughts.
"April and another spring rolling
silently into these hills and spilling
into Wolfpen. It’s a queer glad
ness all tangled up with a sorrow
and a longing in a body’s heart
when you sec the spring coming
green again. I reckon it is the seed
urge pent up for a winter and break
ing out of its shell. Wanting to feel
the earth warm around it, and open
itself and say, ‘Here I am, take me
and I shall bear fruit.’ I wonder if
the sweet-corn seeds are like me,
thinking of Mother’s garden as I do
of Iteuben? Would I dare even tj
think of it? Corn seed into the
warm ground, man seed . . . wom
an ... a planting. To bear his
children. With Reuben, in the
spring, in a few more days it will
be. To be thinking of such things.
Always before it seemed like a
thought of shame to think of a man
in that way. But not with Reu
ben and not now. Like it was a
part of a body’s life, beautiful, the
best part. Looking to this time.
Strong he is and gentle In his
strength.
“Last spring I sai here and had
never seen him. Then Mother was
making her garden. Then Daddy
J was excited about his mill, not
thinking of selling land or lying on
j Cranesnest Shelf in a year. I will
i think of my father. Wolfpen with
j out him; Jasper to carry on; Jas
per’s new wife to have the house
! now. How does a body go about *
ginning to think about things? First
you have a place where you feel
alone with yourself. Like this.
Where the lay of the land is like all
the folds in our own soul. They tit
right over each other and then you
haven’t any body any more. The
way the sky and the mountains
come together In the blue. The stir
of thoughts rises there in the heart
of God. It comes with the airy
waves of the mountaintops and the
dark blue pockets over the hollows,
surging to me, play of Ills thoughts
forever heating on this Pinnacle.
This cardinal feather fluttering out
of the sky almost into my lap, I
guess It must be a blood drop from
the head of God. The sudden bell
note of the cardinal's call from the
laural spray Is the music of His
voice through these hills. It does
not belong to tho redhlrd. Another
one sounded It last year, still an
other the year before, lie lends it
to each bird generation, blowing
upon them with His breath as they
come Into tin* earth. The Indians
heard it, too. and they arp dead. My
grandfathers heard it and my fa
ther, ttnd they sire dead its the birds
are. Now I hear It going on. The
feathers flutter in the pine houghs
and flit down into ttie apple orchard
in Wolfpen for a season or two and
are brushed away. Hut the hell
note sings on forever over these
hills In the very breath of God.
"Or could it be after all a sigh?
A despairing sigh from a bleeding
heart before the black plague ou
hawk’s wings stities the melody of
the song? My father’s voice stopped
by a stone in the hands of wicked
men. 1 will think of him. Yonder
is the upper ford and the big rocks
where a great evil hawk battered
the song from my father’s mouth.
There floats over Ferguson's mea
dow the black shadow from the only
cloud in the sky. It seems to lie
now at rest on the rocks at the very
spot where they struck him down.
And still no trace of them that did
it. Why did it have to happen? Or
Doug broken up and blinded by a
worthless log? There is no way, no
reckoning with destruction and
death. Hurrying on Shine where else
to strike again, but giving no an
swer to a body’s why. Where in
the heart of God does death dwell?
I guess there Is also no answer to
a body’s where.
“I keep thinking of death, i will
not think of death. I will think of
Daddy,of Sparrel Pattern. Every eye
between here and Pikeville turned
upon him when he rode. Jasper
tries to sit a horse like him but he
can’t Jesse seems to be dreaming
when he rides. Abral Is fidgety.
Duddy rode upright and easy and
men looked at him. And women. I
can’t keep going straight with a
thought. I steal up on one to catch
it In hand like it was a moth on a
grapevine, and when I reach out
my fingers it flutters away.
“Iteuben marrying me. Married?
It is a strange word. Wife. From
Cynthia Pattern who always lived
and her mother and father and
brothers as a girl sister, to wife
and the love of a man, married
and in a house with him, together
in the same bed. With Reuben.
Husband, he will be. Children . . .
Julia or Sparrel, or ougl he to be
called Reuben? To leave Wolfpen
and go away with him the way
Mother left Scioto and came here
with Sparrel Pattern, and Granny
Louverna from Virginia with Saul.
His eyes when he told of the house
in the orchard on the hill above the
river. I could live forever In the
look in his eyes. Maybe I could
marry in Mother’s dress, with a lit
tle making over, for she was taller
than I and prettier. Reuben says
no, but she really was. How the
days go since he went away. Plan
ning all the time, fixing out clothes
and quilts and blankets, too, good
to use, to keep for keepsakes, no,
not too good for Reuben to use.
“That day Jesse went away and I
cried, and Doug came and grabbed
me and said Reuben wouldn’t get
ine. I wonder what he aimed to do
then, and if he would have done It
if it hadn’t happened to him. He
is a line hoy and I could nearly love
him for the proud way he went
into himself and never said another
word to me. I hope he marries
Judy and has a good family. I
couldn’t ever have, Doug.
“I will think of my father. 1
never heard him lift his tongue on
anybody. Not even on the bad men
coming into these hills and giving
them a bad name. Why do bad men
kill the good men? Because they
sneak behind a rock from behind.
They wouldn't, none of them, stand
up to him eye to eye like a man
straight and fair. Abral calls them
dirty devils, and keeps saying to
Jasper they ought to catch and hang
them. Jesse thinks Sheriff Hatler’ll
get them because he has some
dues? It might lead to more feuds.
There's been too much feuding and
fighting in these hills, Daddy al
ways said about those Harrisons
and McClurgs. Patterns have kept
out of any trouble ever since they
have been here. "The law's got to
keep this valley an orderly place
for a nmn and hl9 family,' he said
that evening before he went away.
I guess that meant Jasper and his
family. Jesse is wrapped up In the
law and won't want to live here.
Abral is right now getting ready to
go on a raft. I hope he takes It
around the curves without running
Into the bank. Or would It be bet
ter If he grounded? No. It wouldn’t.
He's so confident He ought to keep
it He’ll go on down to Cincinnati
or up to Pittsburgh, I’m sure, hear
ing Shellenberger talk of the world.
Shellenberger. He owes me for his
board. He’ll never offer to pay It.
He owes Daddy a thousand dollnrs
on a note and a payment on the
place. Jesse says It ought to have
been a mortgage Instead of a note
because it's hard to collect a note.
I don’t know. Neither did Jesse
Inst fall. Jesse says he’ll look after
all that now. He says there Is
enough money for me to have twelve
hundred dollars when 1 go with
lteuben. Is that an awful lot of
money? And lteuben had some
saved. Maybe it would be enough
to buy the orchard so we could
start off in our own place, lteuben
will be surprised. What did they
use to call it? A dowry? lteuben,
I bring a dowry of twelve hundred
dollars cash and a chest of linen
made on the loom in Wolfpen
Mother had a chest, too, but no
money. Only she was a beautiful girl
more than 1 am. 1 reckon If Shel
lenberger gets his other debts paid
it won’t hurt me any to give him
bis victuals and his bed. Kven If lie
did want two sheets all the time.
“The house looks so little down
there in the trees, but It appears
happy again, like It understood It
was about to start all over again
with Jasper and Jane Burden. Saul
and Louverna, then Barton and
Mima, then Tivts and Adah, then
Spurred and Julia, and now Jasper
and Jane, the people ending but the
house going on and the things In
it. Jane is a good girl. She's been
tit town a right smart but she Is a
good girl. She can’t weave as well
as Mother or me, but maybe she'll
Cynthia Wai Finishing the Dishes.
learn better. And she won’t have
the garden Mother made, with ev
ery clod out no higger than a rob
in’s egg, and the flowers all around
the fence. But she can do all right
and I don’t begrudge her the place
—much—only I'm right glad I'm go
ing down to a cottage in nn orchard
looking over two rivers and three
states to live with Reuben. I'd rath
er be away and let Jane and Jas
per have it the way they want it.
She’ll want things changed some,
and right she should, but I would
not want anything different from
the way Mother left it. And Jas
per will ask her about things and
not me. It Is the custom and cus
tom Is a good thing. Mother com
ing up here, me going down there.
I guess It Is about the same, al
ways new things for a body to get
used to. I reckon It’s life.”
In a series of pictures and with
few words formed she let her mind
play over the things that touched
her life. Sitting there on the rocks,
high above the valley, each moun
tain ridge shouldering its blue
green mist above the one before It,
stretching on into the purple fusion
with the sky on the horizon. The
graves on Cranesnest Shelf were
wrapped in peace. The mill was
Idle and the abandoned wheel at
rest. Behind her In I>ry Creek she
heard the shouts of the men. She
had not for a long time looked into
that hollow. Now she felt released
from it and detached. She would
turn and confront it from this high
place. She arose from the ledge and
climbed across the back of the Pin
nacle. The brown pine needles were
thick on the thin soil under the
clump of trees. Emerging, she stood
on the Jagged rock on the west, the
sun In her face, and looked down
into Dry Creek.
It was a changed place. The
mountainsides were desolate and al
most bald now as far as she could
see. Brush piles were scattered on
the slopes. The round gray splotches
of wood - ashes from the burned
heaps spotted the hills like the aft
er-marks of a disease a few
scrubs, worthless and unprofitable
trees, scorched and seared by the
brush fires, withered among the
dead stumps. Already a hundred in
tricately laced gullies were outlined
on the naked hills where the giant
poplars stood, cut by the muddy
water as it rushed down into Dry
Creek. The men were gathered
about the mountains of logs at the
splash dam and In Gannon creek
linking rufts with tie-poles.
“Death here also and destruction.
Well, that’s what that man has
done to the woods. I reckon there’s
nothing one poor body can do about
it—only watch the wind come over
from Wolfpen to wake up the trees
when the night’s over, and then
hurry sad away because they’re
dead, like Grandfather Norton. Still,
I guess you needn’t weep over It,
only Just wait, and maybe all the
little under trees will grow up to
meet the wind and hide the scars
of Dry Creek. The earth is very
old, and to her a season is only an
evening and a morning. And death
Is no older and no stronger than Is
life.”
For the third time In the year,
Reuben came to NVolfpen. He rode
over with Jesse from Plkevllle near
the end of April in the evening be
fore the wedding. Cynthia was tln
Ishlng the dishes and gating out of
the window when he came Into view.
She was enraptured to see him,
watching him as he came through
the yard,' observed the neat black
suit, the Gladstone collar, the wide
black silk cravat with small white
dots that covered the bosom of his
shirt. "He's a handsome man. and
as fine a figure as Sparrel Pattern
off a horse. And Jesse begins to
look professional, but lie’s -still a
little self-conscious about It."
People came and the house was
full. Lucy and her family from
Pattern Landing, Jenny and her
family from llorsepen Branch, all
came bearing baskets of food for
the wedding. Cynthia gave them
welcome trying as usual to con
vince herself that these were her
sisters, born of Sparrel and Julia
iu this house, and married here as
she herself was about to be. But
they with their silent men remained
strange to her, even though they
took possession of the house and
acted us it it were their own wed
ding. The children yere irrepressi
ble, climbing about the barn and
sheds, watching the sheep and the
newborn lambs, feeding Hie horses
and mules: they were her nephews
and nieces more than her sisters
were sisters. She liked them around
her. “They will grow up in their
turn, 1 reckon, to carry on the
place. Unless they're like Abral and
Jesse. NVhat, 1 wonder, will my
children grow up to be like, not
born on NVolfpen but down at the
mouth of Sandy V"
People from Gannon Creek came
all morning to be at the wedding
of Cynthia Pattern. It was also their
third journey within a year; ‘I’m
sure glad to go there to a wed
ding, after all the trouble* they’ve
had in that house." The womenfolk
took over the big kitchen, the men
the barn, the yard and the harn-lot.
They were Impressed, as always, by
the Ingenuity of the Pattern men
in inventing improvements around
the house. They commended .las
per on the place he had to start
out with, they asked Jesse about
the law, and Iteuben about the busi
ness boom In the Ohio Valley. Shel
lenberger, returning from Pitts
burgh and the river towns, conde
scendingly joined them. The biggest
business in history wus sweeping to
the West now. He might consider
leasing and buying up Gannon
Creek land In reach of the creek
for lumbering.
Sheriff llatlei and his deputies
came, pleased with the law. They
thought they had captured the man
who murdered Spurrel. They had
him In jail over at Williamson. The
sheriff was going over there In per
son after this wedding of Cynthia
Pattern, the daughter of Spnrrel.
He talked a great deal. "A good
match this Is. That young Warren
feller has a head on him. A tine
surveyor, too, they say. Doing big
things down the river. Getting the
finest girl in this valley. If you ask
my opinion. A tine couple they make.
Yes, she give up Doug Mason long
before he got smashed. Spnrrel told
me. Yes, sure, Doug’s a good boy
all right, but not the one for that
girl, much less now But I tell you,
boys, I'd rather put a rope around
the neck of the dirty devil that way
laid Sparrel Pattern than put an
arm around the purtlest girl In
these hills, ’pon my honor I would.
Have a drink to It.”
Amos Barnes came over with the
Fergusons, having stopped with
them the night before. He had set
aside this day ever since he had
married Jasper and Jane Burden
at Plkevllle.
(TO BI-. CONTINUED)
Mother Shipton
Mother Shipton, say the ancient
annals, was the child of peasant
parents named Sowthlel or Southlll,
who lived in the latter part of the
Fifteenth century near the Drop
ping well in Yorkshire Her moth
er, Agatha, was reputed to he a
witch. Agatha named her daugh
ter Ursula hut the neighbors called
the girl “the devil’s child.” Despite
the fact that Ursula was phenom
enally ugly, says the Chinese Daily
News, Tobias Shipton, a builder of
York, wed her when she was twen
ty-four years old. Legend, ante
dating by centuries the first appear
ance of the fraudulent prophetic
ditty, credits her with fulfilled pre
dictions concerning certain states
men who flourished at ttie court of
Henry VIII, Including the great Car
dinal Wolsey. Fngland, not always
tolerant of witches, let her die In
bed when she was well beyond
threescore and ten. She was
burled, It is said, at Clifton, York
shire, In 150L
Delightful, Modish Models
1818
1910
im
MATRON, miss, or tiny maid—
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On one occasion the late G. K.
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—
"Quotations"
-A —
If you are a friend to Nature you
are a rich mull, even in old age.—
Adull Lorenz.
The only way of catching a truin
I have ever discovered is to miss the
truin before.—C. K. Chesterton.
Women are the social guardians
of the human rare. -Lady Astor.
licauty in itself is not a gift, but
femininity is.— Henri Bernstein.
To live for one's country is greater
than to die for it. — Harold Hell
If right.
It's better to give than to lend,
and it costs about the same.—Sir
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All patterns include illustrated
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© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
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Doan's are especially for poorly
working kidneys. Millions of boxes
are used every year. They are recoin*
mended the country over. Ask you
neighbor!