The End of the World | Page 3

CHAPTER XLIV.
--Squaring Accounts.
CHAPTER XLV.
--New Plans.
CHAPTER XLVI.
--The Shiveree.
* * * * *

ILLUSTRATIONS.
BY FRANK BEARD
The Backwoods Philosopher Taking an Observation A Talk with a
Plowman A little rustle brought her to consciousness Gottlieb The
Castle The Sedilium at the Castle "Look at me" "Don't be oncharitable,
Jonas" The Hawk "Tell that to Jule" Tempted "Now I hate you" At
Cynthy's Door Cynthy Ann had often said in class-meeting that
temptations abounded on every hand Jonas Julia sat down in
mortification "Good-by!" The Mother's Blessing Corn-Sweats and
Calamus "Fire! Murder! Help!" Norman Anderson Somethin'
Ludikerous To the Rescue A Nice Little Game The Mud-Clerk Waking
up an Ugly Customer Cynthy Ann's Sacrifice A Pastoral Visit Brother
Goshorn "Say them words over again" "I want to buy your place"

THE END OF THE WORLD.
* * * * *
CHAPTER I.
IN LOVE WITH A DUTCHMAN.
"I don't believe that you'd care a cent if she did marry a Dutchman! She
might as well as to marry some white folks I know."
Samuel Anderson made no reply. It would be of no use to reply.
Shrews are tamed only by silence. Anderson had long since learned that
the little shred of influence which remained to him in his own house
would disappear whenever his teeth were no longer able to shut his
tongue securely in. So now, when his wife poured out this hot lava of
argumentum ad hominem, he closed the teeth down in a dead-lock way
over the tongue, and compressed the lips tightly over the teeth, and shut
his finger-nails into his work-hardened palms. And then, distrusting all
these precautions, fearing lest he should be unable to hold on to his

temper even with this grip, the little man strode out of the house with
his wife's shrill voice in his ears.
Mrs. Anderson had good reason to fear that her daughter was in love
with a "Dutchman," as she phrased it in her contempt. The few
Germans who had penetrated to the West at that time were looked upon
with hardly more favor than the Californians feel for the almond-eyed
Chinaman. They were foreigners, who would talk gibberish instead of
the plain English which everybody could understand, and they were not
yet civilized enough to like the yellow saleratus-biscuit and the
"salt-rising" bread of which their neighbors were so fond. Reason
enough to hate them!
Only half an hour before this outburst of Mrs. Anderson's, she had set a
trap for her daughter Julia, and had fairly caught her.
"Jule! Jule! O Jul-y-e-ee!" she had called.
And Julia, who was down in the garden hoeing a bed in which she
meant to plant some "Johnny-Jump-ups," came quickly toward the
house, though she know it would be of no use to come quickly. Let her
come quickly, or let her come slowly, the rebuke was sure to greet her
all the name.
"Why don't you come when you're called, _I'd_ like to know! You're
never in reach when you're wanted, and you're good for nothing when
you are here!"
Julia Anderson's earliest lesson from her mother's lips had been that she
was good for nothing. And every day and almost every hour since had
brought her repeated assurances that she was good for nothing. If she
had not been good for a great deal, she would long since have been
good for nothing as the result of such teaching. But though this was not
the first, nor the thousandth, nor the ten thousandth time that she had
been told that she was good for nothing, the accustomed insult seemed
to sting her now more than ever. Was it that, being almost eighteen, she
was beginning to feel the woman blossoming in her nature? Or, was it
that the tender words of August Wehle had made her sure that she was

good for something, that now her heart felt her mother's insult to be a
stale, selfish, ill-natured lie?
"Take this cup of tea over to Mrs. Malcolm's, and tell her that it a'n't
quite as good as what I borried of her last week. And tell her that they'll
be a new-fangled preacher at the school-house a Sunday, a Millerite or
somethin', a preachin' about the end of the world."
Julia did not say "Yes, ma'am," in her usually meek style. She smarted
a little yet from the harsh words, and so went away in silence.
Why did she walk fast? Had she noticed that August Wehle, who was
"breaking up" her father's north field, was just plowing down the west
side of his land? If she hastened, she might reach the cross-fence as he
came round to it, and while he was yet hidden from the sight of the
house by the turn