If he were poor, ill-clad, even hungry, and exposed, as it were, to beutterly annihilated by a precipice of impending ruin, yet only hisbody remained in these miserable circumstances, while his aspiringsoul enjoyed the sunshine of a bright futurity. It was his nature tobe always young, and the tendency of his mode of life to keep himso. Gray hairs were nothing, no, nor wrinkles, nor infirmity; he mightlook old, indeed, and be somewhat disagreeably connected with agaunt old figure, much the worse for wear; but the true, the essentialPeter was a young man of high hopes, just entering on the world. Atthe kindling of each new fire, his burnt-out youth rose afresh fromthe old embers and ashes. It rose exulting now. Having lived thuslong- not too long, but just to the right age- a susceptible bachelor,with warm and tender dreams, he resolved, so soon as the hidden goldshould flash to light, to go a-wooing, and win the love of the fairestmaid in town. What heart could resist him? Happy Peter Goldthwaite!
Every evening- as Peter had long absented himself from his formerlounging-places, at insurance offices, news-rooms, and book-stores,and as the honor of his company was seldom requested in privatecircles- he and Tabitha used to sit down sociably by the kitchenhearth. This was always heaped plentifully with the rubbish of hisday's labor. As the foundation of the fire, there would be agoodly-sized backlog of red oak, which, after being sheltered fromrain or damp above a century, still hissed with the heat, anddistilled streams of water from each end, as if the tree had beencut down within a week or two. Next these were large sticks, sound,black, and heavy, which had lost the principle of decay, and wereindestructible except by fire, wherein they glowed like red-hot barsof iron. On this solid basis, Tabitha would rear a lighterstructure, composed of the splinters of door panels, ornamentedmouldings, and such quick combustibles, which caught like straw, andthrew a brilliant blaze high up the spacious flue, ****** its sootysides visible almost to the chimney top. Meantime, the gleam of theold kitchen would be chased out of the cobwebbed corners, and awayfrom the dusky cross-beams over-head, and driven nobody could tellwhither, while Peter smiled like a gladsome man, and Tabitha seemeda picture of comfortable age. All this, of course, was but an emblemof the bright fortune which the destruction of the house would shedupon its occupants.
While the dry pine was flaming and crackling, like an irregulardischarge of fairy musketry, Peter sat looking and listening, in apleasant state of excitement. But, when the brief blaze and uproarwere succeeded by the dark-red glow, the substantial heat, and thedeep singing sound, which were to last throughout the evening, hishumor became talkative. One night, the hundredth time, he teasedTabitha to tell him something new about his great-granduncle.
"You have been sitting in that chimney corner fifty-five years, oldTabby, and must have heard many a tradition about him," said Peter.
"Did not you tell me that, when you first came to the house, there wasan old woman sitting where you sit now, who had been housekeeper tothe famous Peter Goldthwaite?""So there was, Mr. Peter," answered Tabitha, "and she was nearabout a hundred years old. She used to say that she and old PeterGoldthwaite had often spent a sociable evening by the kitchen fire-pretty much as you and I are doing now, Mr. Peter.""The old fellow must have resembled me in more points than one,"said Peter, complacently, "or he never would have grown so rich.
But, methinks, he might have invested the money better than he did- nointerest! nothing but good security! and the house to be torn downto come at it! What made him hide it so snug, Tabby?""Because he could not spend it," said Tabitha; "for as often ashe went to unlock the chest, the Old Scratch came behind and caughthis arm. The money, they say, was paid Peter out of his purse; andhe wanted Peter to give him a deed of this house and land, which Peterswore he would not do.""Just as I swore to John Brown, my old partner," remarked Peter.
"But this is all nonsense, Tabby! I don't believe the story.""Well, it may not be just the truth," said Tabitha; "for some folkssay that Peter did make over the house to the Old Scratch, andthat's the reason it has always been so unlucky to them that livedin it. And as soon as Peter had given him the deed, the chest flewopen, and Peter caught up a handful of the gold. But, lo and behold!
