CHAPTER XXXIII.

A LITTLE CLOUD.

Ar first it was "no bigger than your hand." But let me begin and tell all how it sprung up into our sky; and how it grew large and black; and how it came to stretch and spread over us so threateningly; and how it finally burst, driving us in every direction for shelter.

As nearly as I ever knew, or as any one could know, the trouble began between Mr. Joseph Bard, who had now come into pretty much the entire management of his father's business transactions, and Mr. Plimton. It was all about a matter of trade, I believe, and might have been first engendered of a difference of opinion between them concerning the manner of Godfrey's going off. It was rumored that the latter was a little indebted at Mr. Joseph Bard's store when he left.

But it can hardly be traced to its beginning. Like a river, it came from a brook; and the brook started from a rill; and the rill from a little trickling fountain; and the fountain itself was fed from the drops that oozed from the

very heart of the earth. So this difference grew from nothing more than the hidden and trifling feelings that oozed their way out to the surface in their life and conduct.

Both Mr. Plimton and Mr. Joseph Bard were members of the church, and professedly walked exemplary lives. They certainly, therefore, should never have given cause of offence, nor proved stumbling blocks to brethren weaker in the faith than they felt assured they were.

I am not going to say which was most in fault, for such discrimination, is no part of the work I have herewith assigned myself. It is free to be concluded, as in all cases of difference, that there was quite fault enough on both sides. It must have been so here certainly; for unless two quarrel, there can be no difference. One can hardly quarrel with much vindictiveness with himself.

Mr. Bard would say something highly derogatory to the actions and character of Mr. Plimton, and at once the rumor was borne to the ears of the latter. A regular telegraphic line could not have performed directer duty. And so, on the other side, if Mr. Plimton had any thing to say in reply, rumors were ready, breathless, with swift tongues, to carry the earliest intelligence, together with the advantages of their freshest impressions, to the enemy. And in this mode the gap grew continually wider. The sore did not show any symptoms of healing.

Added to this, making the trouble greater and spreading the circle more and more, each party had individual

friends; and these friends speedily came to their relief, thinking their sympathy loudly called for; and this feeling of sympathy was only the match that kindled the two trains long laid - trains of prejudices, and enmity, and malice, such as flashed at the application of the match like trains of powder before the touch of fire.

Old Mr. Bard, and, indeed, the whole of his family, too, was not to be driven from his position. Mr. Joseph Bard must be sustained. Mr. Bard, the elder, had carefully abstained from committing himself to any public difference or dispute with Mr. Plimton, and so had gone along pretty smoothly these many years; but as soon as his son came into power, a new spirit seemed to plant itself at the helm. He was not only more progressive than his father, but, I candidly think, a little more aggressive, too. Like the most of young men, especially those who happen to have others to start them and hold them up early in life, he was not at all too considerate, and his prejudices rather outran the slower movements of his judgment.

Mr. Plimton was very much older than he; but what difference did that make? Mr. Plimton had presumed, years ago, to be sure, to come and establish himself in business in the village, exactly in opposition to the interests of his father; and even although his father had not seen fit to make a serious and chronic opposition to it, still it was no reason why the matter might not be taken up now. Mr. Joseph Bard felt just like it. He wanted to pay back, as he really deceived himself, the debt so long due. His

energies were just in the right condition. His spirit felt quick, and haughty, and rather revengeful. He would fully assert his family superiority; for he could not bear to stay in the village and have it thought that any name was equal to the name of Bard! So far did his wayward and ignorant feelings carry him.

Mr. Bard's family all became interested in the matter. It would have been next to impossible to keep them out of it. And Mrs. Joseph Bard once Lucy Burroughs flamed up quite as much as her husband. She was fierce in her feelings. Ah, Lucy! you had changed somewhat since first your new clergyman drove up to your father's door and sat down to an early supper with you all. She was as thorough in what she said as in what she did.

In her remarks, generally, none could surpass her for conciseness and meaning. In her denunciations she was absolutely fierce. And, led on by her husband, the interest she took in the quarrel grew daily wider and deeper.

And Lucy's mother was appealed to for her aid. Could it be in her heart to refuse, or even to be indifferent, when the call was so imperative? No-no, indeed. If Mrs. Bard, the elder, determined that her son must be sustained through thick and through thin, then why should. not Mrs. Deacon Burroughs come to the same determination respecting her daughter? Would not the feeling of pride require it of her, if all other motives and influences failed?

So Mrs. Burroughs fell into the ranks of the malcon

tents, carrying her individual forces with her. And in this way the circle of mischief got a good start, and promised to spread widely and rapidly in the usually calm surface of the social lake of our parish.

And if Mr. Plimton was assailed, would his wife or family be any more ready for beating a retreat than the wife or family of the other party? Not a bit of that, indeed. It is certainly due to the character and worth of Mrs. Plimton to say, that she was above many of the petty trickeries many angered and indignant people think it necessary to resort to on such occasions; yet her sense of justice and of right was no less quick and keen than that of any other individual. It is only natural to conclude that Mr. Plimton relied on the strongest supporter of his cause in the person of his wife, and that in no particular was she found wanting.

All these things are unpleasant to tell, and so I certainly feel it to be; but as, in the present case, they happened to be the precursors of events far more important than could at first have been foreseen by any one, it comes strictly within my duty to put them down in the order they occurred.

The society held its weekly meetings, during the winter, sometimes in one place and sometimes in another. But whenever it was appointed at Mr. Bard's house, Mrs. Plimton never attended; and when it came Mrs. Plimton's turn, neither Mrs. Bard, nor Mrs. Joseph Bard, nor Mrs. Burroughs attended. Now, a sewing society, in itself consid