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The Village Watch…Tower
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
Dear old apple…tree； under whose gnarled branches these
stories were written； to you I dedicate the book。 My head was
so close to you； who can tell from whence the thoughts came？
I only know that when all the other trees in the orchard were barren；
there were always stories to be found under your branches； and so it
is our joint book； dear apple…tree。 Your pink blossoms have fallen
on the page as I wrote； your ruddy fruit has dropped into my lap；
the sunshine streamed through your leaves and tipped my pencil with gold。
The birds singing in your boughs may have lent a sweet note here
and there； and do you remember the day when the gentle shower came？
We just curled the closer； and you and I and the sky all cried
together while we wrote 〃The Fore…Room Rug。〃
It should be a lovely book； dear apple…tree； but alas！
it is not altogether that； because I am not so simple as you；
and because I have strayed farther away from the heart
of Mother Nature。
KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
〃Quillcote；〃 Hollis； Maine；
August 12； 1895。
CONTENTS。
The Village Watch…Tower 1
Tom o' the Blueb'ry Plains 31
The Nooning Tree 55
The Fore…Room Rug 95
A Village Stradivarius 123
The Eventful Trip of the Midnight Cry 195
THE VILLAGE WATCH…TOWER。
It stood on the gentle slope of a hill； the old gray house；
with its weather…beaten clapboards and its roof of ragged shingles。
It was in the very lap of the road； so that the stage…driver could almost
knock on the window pane without getting down from his seat； on those rare
occasions when he brought 〃old Mis' Bascom〃 a parcel from Saco。
Humble and dilapidated as it was； it was almost beautiful
in the springtime； when the dandelion…dotted turf grew close
to the great stone steps； or in the summer； when the famous
Bascom elm cast its graceful shadow over the front door。
The elm； indeed； was the only object that ever did cast its
shadow there。 Lucinda Bascom said her 〃front door 'n' entry
never hed ben used except for fun'rals； 'n' she was goin'
to keep it nice for that purpose； 'n' not get it all tracked up。〃
She was sitting now where she had sat for thirty years。
Her high…backed rocker； with its cushion of copperplate patch
and its crocheted tidy； stood always by a southern window that
looked out on the river。 The river was a sheet of crystal； as it
poured over the dam； a rushing； roaring torrent of foaming white；
as it swept under the bridge and fought its way between the rocky
cliffs beyond； sweeping swirling； eddying； in its narrow channel；
pulsing restlessly into the ragged fissures of its shores；
and leaping with a tempestuous roar into the Witches' Eel…pot； a deep
wooded gorge cleft in the very heart of the granite bank。
But Lucinda Bascom could see more than the river from her
favorite window。 It was a much…traveled road； the road that ran
past the house on its way from Liberty Village to Milliken's Mills。
A tottering old sign…board； on a verdant triangle of turf； directed you
over Deacon Chute's hill to the 〃Flag Medder Road；〃 and from thence
to Liberty Centre； the little post…office and store； where the stage
stopped twice a day； was quite within eyeshot； so were the public
watering…trough； Brigadier Hill； and； behind the ruins of an old mill；
the wooded path that led to the Witches' Eel…pot； a favorite
walk for village lovers。 This was all on her side of the river。
As for the bridge which knit together the two tiny villages；
nobody could pass over that without being seen from the Bascoms'。 The
rumble of wheels generally brought a family party to the window；
Jot Bascom's wife （she that was Diadema Dennett）； Jot himself；
if he were in the house； little Jot； and grandpa Bascom； who looked
at the passers…by with a vacant smile parting his thin lips。
Old Mrs。 Bascom herself did not need the rumble of wheels to tell
her that a vehicle was coming； for she could see it fully ten minutes
before it reached the bridge；at the very moment it appeared at the crest
of Saco Hill； where strangers pulled up their horses； on a clear day；
and paused to look at Mount Washington； miles away in the distance。
Tory Hill and Saco Hill met at the bridge； and just there； too； the river
road began its shady course along the east side of the stream：
in view of all which 〃old Mis' Bascom's settin'…room winder〃
might well be called the 〃Village Watch…Tower；〃 when you consider
further that she had moved only from her high…backed rocker to
her bed； and from her bed to her rocker； for more than thirty years；
ever since that july day when her husband had had a sun…stroke
while painting the meeting…house steeple； and her baby Jonathan
had been thereby hastened into a world not in the least ready
to receive him。
She could not have lived without that window； she would have told you；
nor without the river； which had lulled her to sleep ever since she
could remember。 It was in the south chamber upstairs that she had been born。
Her mother had lain there and listened to the swirl of the water； in that year
when the river was higher than the oldest inhabitant had ever seen it；
the year when the covered bridge at the Mills had been carried away；
and when the one at the Falls was in hourly danger of succumbing to the force
of the freshet。
All the men in both villages were working on the river；
strengthening the dam； bracing the bridge； and breaking the jams of logs；
and with the parting of the boom； the snapping of the bridge timbers；
the crashing of the logs against the rocks； and the shouts of
the river…drivers； the little Lucinda had come into the world。
Some one had gone for the father； and had found him on the river；
where he had been since day…break； drenched with the storm；
blown fro his dangerous footing time after time； but still battling
with the great heaped…up masses of logs； wrenching them from one
another's grasp； and sending them down the swollen stream。
Finally the jam broke； and a cheer of triumph burst
from the excited men； as the logs； freed from their bondage；
swept down the raging flood； on and ever on in joyous liberty；
faster and faster； till they encountered some new obstacle；
when they heaped themselves together again； like puppets of Fate；
and were beaten by the waves into another helpless surrender。
With the breaking of the jam； one dead monarch of the forest
leaped into the air as if it had been shot from a cannon's mouth；
and lodged between two jutting peaks of rock high on the river bank。
Presently another log was dashed against it； but rolled off and hurried
down the stream； then another； and still another； but no force seemed
enough to drive the giant from its intrenched position。
〃Hurry on down to the next jam； Raish； and let it alone；〃
cried the men。 〃Mebbe