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��THE GRANITE MONTHLY.
��curious should never know about. He was, however, a broken down and disheartened man. Nothing cheered him, no kind words or assurance of friendship rallied him to his old self. The trouble could not be forgotten ; the disgrace could not be blotted out ! Argument had no effect. 'An soldier 'cused crime ! ' he would exclaim. ' A veteran who kriow'd Washington, an fought with Lafayette an Scammel, sent ter jail like a dog ! ' His grief was pitiable. ' I've allers tried ter do as I would be done by, an it has turn- ed out onexpectedly bad. I do n't owe the country nor no man any thing, an I aint got no more business ter transact in this world,' he said. ' I 've allers done as near my idee of the right thing as I could, an they can't be much harder on me where I'm goin' than they have been here.' When asked if he wanted to see Parson Wiggin, he replied, ' No, he kin jest keep his proper distance an talk 'bout me but not to me, as he 's allers done.' It was a terrible cut, gentlemen, at the good parson, and he never got over it. It haunted him to his last moments, for he was a good man and somehow realized that he had n't done his duty by old Steve."
" It was plain all the time that the old man was going. He continued to moan and cry, and talk about his trouble from morning till night. Polly took just the same gloomy view. They did n't eat nor sleep. Nature could n't stand that sort ot treatment
��a great while in old folks like them' and so they failed and failed till one morning early in June both of them died. It was just as they wished it."
" The good Parson Wiggin preached a funeral sermon, in which he blamed himself, the most of which has been handed down to this generation, and can be repeated almost word for word by some of the old folks in this neighbor- hood. It was a tearful occasion. We buried them both in one grave. I tell you what, the village people felt pretty bad, and when it came to grave-stones, nothing but a monument would do. It is a handsome affair. If you have time in the morning I will take you to see it."
" That is the story, stranger, of the deserted -farm-house, and I may as well add that out of respect to their memory, my wife insists that the old house shall stand during her lifetime. Moreover it is because of her wishes that I keep its latch-string out for decent people who come around here fishing and improving their health. You will find it all right and you are free to occupy it. Use it well. That is all I have to say. Good night."
Our host disappeared as suddenly as he came, and by the same path, and John and I, being in deep thought, silently retraced our steps to the de- serted farm-house and turned in for the night. Several hours, however, we spent in conversation about the story the farmer told.
��NORTHWOOD—AN HISTORICAL SUMMARY.
��EY ARTHUR E. COTTON.
��In royal Rockingham, in southeast- ern New Hampshire, lies the territory incorporated under the name of Northwood, a day's journey from the fair old town of Portsmouth. Set- tlement was begun on Northwood soil by emigrants from North Hampton,
��this state. Their names were John and Increase Batchelder, and Moses Godfrey. This was in the year 1 763. Then Northwood was a dependency of Nottingham. After them the Johnsons, the Hoyts, and the Knowltons came. These men felled the forests and sub-
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