Oldfield had kindly consented to read some
precious records recently discovered by him. A little rustling breath
went over the audience. So this amiable lunacy had its bearing on the
economy of life! They were amazed, as may befall us at any judgment
day, when grays are strangely alchemized to white.
Mr. Oldfield, unmoved as ever, save in a certain dominating quality of
presence, rose and stood before them, the records in his hands. He read
them firmly, explaining here and there, his simple speech untouched by
finer usage; and when the minister interposed a question, he dropped
into such quaintness of rich legendry that his hearers sat astounded.
So they were a part of the world! and not the world to-day, but the
universe in its making.
It was long before Nicholas concluded; but the time seemed brief. He
sat down, and the minister took the floor. He thanked Mr. Oldfield and
then went on to say that, although it might be informal, he would
suggest that the town, with Mr. Oldfield's permission, place an
inscription on the boulder in the Flat-Iron Lot, stating why it, was to
be held historically sacred. The town roared and stamped, but meanwhile
Nicholas Oldfield was quietly rising.
"In that case, pa'son," said he, "I should like to state that it would
be my purpose to make over that lot to the town to be held as public
land forever.
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