e household
told a certain story regarding this well! It was a story before the time
of her own birth, when two of her older sisters were very tiny girls.
One day, when the mother was busy in superintending some homely task
(such as the manufacturing of the "cream cheese," perhaps, for which she
was noted), the baby of two years toddled in and began to lisp over and
over the same broken words, "Tatie in 'ell, Tatie in 'ell." She had
repeated them many times, with increasing insistence, before the busy
mother realized that they possessed a meaning. "Tatie in 'ell, Tatie in
'ell," the little one said, pulling at her mother's gown, half crying as
she spoke; and then it dawned upon the latter that her baby had
something serious to tell. She yielded to the little importunate hands
upon her dress, and followed the child out of doors to the well and
there looked down. "Katie" was indeed in the well, as the lisping tongue
had tried to say, and, gazing into the darkness below, the mother could
see the frightened, pitiful little face turned up to her, while two
small hands convulsively grasped the edge of the great bucket. The
husband and father was away from home, all the men employed about the
place were working at a distance, and there was no time to lose: those
frail hands must soon relax their hold, and the child was sorely
terrified and begging to be saved. As the mother hesitated, in an agony
of doubt, out from the house came a stout, elderly serving-woman, who
had lived in the family for many years, and who was especially devoted
to little Kate. She had heard her mistress's cry, and, running to look
into the well, without even waiting to explain, she set about the
execution of a hazardous and original plan of rescue. Climbing over the
curb, she began to descend by striding the well and planting her feet
upon the rough, protruding stones of which the sides were formed. Not
one woman in a thousand could or would have done such a thing; but this
one was tall and strong, and brave as a lion with the might of her love
for little Kate. She saved the child, who had suffered no graver injury
than a thorough drenching and a fright which served as a warning for
herself and the children of her own and several generations to come.

Interesting as was this story and others told of the past, and
delightful as it was to play under the great trees, roaming at one's own
sweet will all about "the Grove," better than everything else was it t