g and churning and getting things to rights generally. Jonas had
been over in the swamp getting out some wood he'd cut earlier in the
winter--and along in the afternoon he come in and said he s'posed I
wouldn't want to ride down to the Corners so late, and I said I did feel
just like it, so we started off. We went the Birch Ridge road, because
he wanted to see somebody over that way,--and when we was going home by
the straight road, Jonas laughed and said we hadn't seen anything of
John Ashby's moving, and he guessed he'd got stuck somewhere. He was
glad he hadn't nothing to do with it. We drove along pretty quick, for
we were some belated, and we didn't like to leave mother all alone after
it come dark. All of a sudden Jonas stood up in the sleigh, and says he,
'I don't believe but the cars is off the track;' and I looked and there
did seem to be something the matter with 'em. They hadn't been running
more than a couple o' years then, and we was prepared for anything.

"Jonas he whipped up the horse and we got there pretty quick, and I'll
be bound if the Ashby house hadn't got stuck fast right on the track,
and stir it one way or another they couldn't. They'd been there since
quarter-past one, pulling and hauling,--and the men was all hoarse with
yelling, and the cars had come from both ways and met there,--one each
side of the crossing,--and the passengers was walking about, scolding
and swearing,--and somebody'd gone and lit up a gre't bonfire. You never
see such a sight in all your life! I happened to look up at the old
house, and there were them two top windows that used to look over to our
place, and they had caught the shine of the firelight, and made the poor
old thing look as if it was scared to death. The men was banging at it
with axes and crowbars, and it was dreadful distressing. You pitied it
as if it was a live creatur'. It come from such a quiet place, and
always looked kind of comfortable, though so much war had gone on
amongst the Ashbys. I tell you it was a judgment on John, for they got
it shoved back after a while, and then wouldn't touch it again,--not one
of the men,--nor let their oxen. The plastering was all stove, and the
outside walls all wrenched apart,--and John never did anything more
about it; but let it set there all summer, till it burnt down, and there
was an end, one night in September. They supposed some traveling folks
slept in it and set it afire, or else some boys did it for fun. I w