. The pot of gold, and other stories . ttons, and nobody can find him to punish. But commonly, folks in Pokonoket do not commitgreat crimes, and are a very peaceful, industrious andhappy people. They have never had any wars amongst themselves,and their country has never been invaded by a foreignfoe ; all that they ever have had to seriously threatentheir peace and safety was the Ogress. A terrible ogress once lived in Pokonoket, anddevoured everybody she could catch. Nobody knewwhen his life was safe, and the worst of it was, theydid not know where she lived, or they would havegone in a body a
. The pot of gold, and other stories . ttons, and nobody can find him to punish. But commonly, folks in Pokonoket do not commitgreat crimes, and are a very peaceful, industrious andhappy people. They have never had any wars amongst themselves,and their country has never been invaded by a foreignfoe ; all that they ever have had to seriously threatentheir peace and safety was the Ogress. A terrible ogress once lived in Pokonoket, anddevoured everybody she could catch. Nobody knewwhen his life was safe, and the worst of it was, theydid not know where she lived, or they would havegone in a body and disposed of her. She had ahabitation somewhere in the darkness, but nobodyknew where — it might be right in their midst. Thereare a great many inconveniences about a dark country. Well, Toby who kept the loon, lived in a little huton one of the principal streets. He was a widower,and lived with his six grandchildren who were allquite small and went to school. They were his daugh-ters children. She had died a few years before of a. POKONOKET IN STOItMY WEATHER. TOBY. 187 disease quite common in Pokonoket, and almost alwaysfatal. It had a long name which the doctors hadgiven it, which really meant, wanting light. Toby was rather feeble and rheumatic, and it wasabout all he could do to knit stockings for his grand-children, and make soup for their dinner. Almost allday, except when he was stirring the soup, which hemade in a great kettle set into a brick oven, he wassitting on a little stool in his doorway, knitting, andthe loon sat on a perch at his right hand. The loonwho was a very large bird, was crazy, and thought hewas a bobolink. Link, link, bobolink. he sang allday long, instead of crying in the way a loon usuallydoes. His voice was not anywhere near the rightpitch for a bobolinks song, but that made no dif-ference. Link, link, bobolink/ he kept on singingfrom morning till night. Toby did not mind knitting, but he did not like tomake the soup. It had never seemed to h
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1892
