North of Boston

THEY aint much happened sence the last riting. We just got done rebushing the church. Wood furnace smoked some. Looked up the records and found it was bot back in 1898. I driv to Portland to get adjustment from the folks what sold it to us then. They wouldn't do nothing. I told them to go to Hell and we wouldn't buy our new furnace from them.

So we shot the works. Put in a new oil burning forced hot air furnace. Put up new paper and paint. Sanded the floors and varnished the pews. Hung new drapes and a dossal cloth and rigged a new pulpit.

Then we had a re-dedicashun. After the folks had went, me and the Senior Deacon trod down cellar to sort of pat our new furnace for we felt awful proud of it. We set on a cupple of empty nail kegs, lit our cigarettes and didn't say nuthin.

Then the Senior Deacon he points to the foundashuns. "Next thing to fix is them. By the time we get enuff money raised to do a real job, I wont be here no more. Then it will be up to you. Your grandfather, Schoolmaster Daniel, he done a lot of work on them with his own hands. Your father, Deacon Lyford, he raised a bunch of money in his time and you can see on the wall where he left off. Now its up to you and your boy, young Lyford, to finish the work in your time."

Rain off the roof tunked into the eaves-drip. Clock upstairs knocked off time real steady. Sum sort of a beetle scrunched in one of the old timbers.

We clum the stairs, killed the lights and stepped out into the wet dark.

I got more out of that five minnits looking at them stones than two Bib Lit courses. Wisht sum of you fellers could of ben with me. You might of liked it.