"As I paused in the middle of the road near the gate," began the vagabond, "this manly little fellow who so kindly brought me a drink from the well, wanted to know where I came from. In answer to his question let me say: I am, as you see, a friendless vagabond, wandering hither and thither over the face of the earth. But think not that I never had a home; for although I may not look it, I once had a dear mother, just as each one of you has, who, when I was a baby kissed me and rocked me to sleep every night with a sweet lullaby. But that was a long time ago, and it is little wonder that, as you now gaze upon me, you are anxious to know who I am and whence I came.

"Now I might be an earthly prince in disguise for aught that you know, though I'm not. Yet right here let me say, I am the son of a King, for we are all the children of God and our earthly end is alike in this dust that some of you children at first so pretended to scorn as you saw it all over my clothes. So from this on, remember, we are only of the dust; and the babies of satins and silks, all humbled at last, shall lie down and sleep side by side with the children of tatters and rags.

"Be that as it may; I was born in the village of Harpers Ferry on the banks of the fair Shenandoah River, where lofty mountains rise and overhang with rugged cliffs that seem about to fall into the deep valley below; and where, in order to get into the town at all, the trains pass through a dark tunnel in the mountains, and leaping with shrill whistle across the long span of a great steel bridge, slow down and stop at a quaint, stone station, so closely surrounded by tall mountains on all sides that a traveller might think himself at the very end of the world.

"It is here that the wild Shenandoah empties its foaming waters into the Potomac River, (for be it remembered that the two streams were joined in Holy wedlock by the Indians long, long ago), and mingling their currents in loving embrace, they leap onward through a pass in the mountains and together journey joyfully eastward toward the sea.

"As the stranger stands upon the platform at the little stone station, and gazes far across the Shenandoah River, he cannot help noticing a dark path, or roadway, leading straight up the face of a steep cliff; and long will he wonder how it could ever be possible to climb that path, for it stands almost straight up and down.

"Right here let me say there are but three persons on earth who can truthfully boast of having once included that path as a part of their journey; while strangest of all is the fact that one of these was an old woman, so awkward and fat that she looked to be almost helpless, while the other two, at the time of ascent, were mere children.

"For many years prior to the time of my story, (how long, nobody ever could tell), there dwelt an old woman somewhere up in these mountains, and unless something has happened to her recently she is living there still.

"She was a strange-looking creature and from her jolly, good nature and laughing, happy way, had grown in weight until she must have tipped the scales at fully five hundred pounds.

"She did not look in the least like a mountain climber, nor in fact hardly able to mount a short flight of stairs; yet she was a quite frequent wanderer up and down the opposite bank of the river, where most of her time was spent in gathering wild herbs on the rough side of the mountain, or along the fertile bed of the Shenandoah.

"When the great bag, which she always carried slung over her shoulder, was filled with herbs almost to bursting, she would start at the bottom of this high cliff, and, aided by the scrubby bushes that grew from the dark fissures in the mountain's time scarred face, she would manage in some mysterious way to drag her full five hundred weight with its load to the top, and then disappear in the mountain woodland above.

"It was not only a tiresome, but likewise a dangerous journey, for there were few places where she could catch her toes in the steep rock; and as she climbed slowly upward, and with much difficulty felt for each foothold, her great body swayed and staggered upon the face of the cliff, while she puffed and blew from her toil so loudly that her heavy breathing could plainly be heard far across in the village of Harpers Ferry.

"Never did she go up the cliff but that great boulders would break loose under her ponderous tread, and tumbling headlong with mighty bound, would dash down the steep mountain-side and land with a roaring crash in the bed of the river below, where to this day they may be seen choking the tide of the stream in a great rocky mass.

"In many ways this strange woman was more odd than she looked. She was not very high, but so terribly spread out that she was equally as tall when lying down as when standing up; and if, like a turtle, she might have drawn in her feet and her head, she could have rolled about over the ground like a great ball—but of course she was not a turtle.

"The garments, too, that she wore, both in make and material, were strange to look upon. Her skirt, which could never have been made for another, was fully a foot too long. It entirely concealed her feet, which could not have been small, and so caused her to stumble and trip that often indeed have I wondered how she could get along with her big bag of herbs over a level road, much less up a path on the face of the cliff, that even the bravest of hunters and mountain-men dared not attempt to climb. Thus she went stumbling along in her own silent, industrious way.

"And now comes the strangest thing of all about this wonderful, fat woman.

"Many are the grown people that have passed her while busy at her labor of herb gathering, yet not for a moment would she stop work to talk with any of them. If they smiled, she might look up and smile in reply; but if they asked her a question she would answer it with such an uncivil grunt that they were glad to pass rapidly along on their way.

"But should she happen to meet with a group of gay children, this strange, fat woman was sure to drop her big bag of herbs, and pausing for a long jolly chat, would unbosom her goodness of heart and draw from her ponderous pockets handful after handful of candy and pop-corn balls, taffy and chocolate drops, the like of which for sweetness and flavor, no mortal man had ever made.

"Nor was she in the least inclined to be stingy for she would give the children as much of her sweets as they could eat and then bid them good-bye with a kiss and a parting blessing. For so many years had she thus kindly treated the children that they watched for her coming and going day after day and were ever on the lookout to greet her, with tears of joy in their eyes.

"The name of this fat woman was 'Twaddles;' and as nobody thereabout knew just whether she was a Miss or a Mrs., the children had nicknamed her 'Auntie,' although that might have been as big a mistake as either of the other two names. But it sounded motherly and sweet to her ears, and, as its mention was sure to bring forth an abundance of bon-bons and candies, all of the grown people as well as the children called her 'Aunt Twaddles.'

"Where did she come from? you ask. Well, for many years nobody ever could tell. Some claimed that she lived in a nest with the eagles far off in the mountains. Others, that she dwelt alone with some half grown cubs in the heart of a dark bear den, where the foot of a hunter had never passed; while some even vowed that at night all the humming birds kept guard while she slept far back in a cave in the rocks.

"Old Nimrod, the hunter, declared, (and he had spent his whole life in the mountains), that she was 'Queen of the Witches' and lived in the dark hollow of a great tree, far down in a deep rocky glen, where panthers and owls with wildcats and rattlesnakes dwell. Once when he saw her, he said she was leading a pack of fierce wolves along on the side of the mountain; and again she was holding a live panther close to her breast and rocking it to sleep in her arms.

"At any rate, wherever she lived, so marvelous indeed was she skilled in the art of making candy, that her praises were sung by the children far and near; and strangest of all was the fact that, should you once eat a little bite of it, the sweetness and flavor it left in your mouth lasted for over a week, while its memory lasted a lifetime. Years might pass silently away and the children who had once tasted of 'Aunt Twaddles'' candy grow up and be married, yet they could never forget it, though they tried; while stranger still was the fact that a mere recollection was sure to bring tears to the eyes, nor could one cease crying until he went home and forgot about it.

"In proof of this part of my tale let me say; I remember one day as I stood quite hidden from view amid the green alder-berry bushes that grew on the bank of the river, I beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' coming slowly down the edge of the stream. Her big bag was heavily laden with herbs, and, as the sun was quite high in the heavens, she paused in the shade of a tree near the foot of the steep path for a moment of rest before starting up the dangerous face of the cliff, for she needed all of her strength to go up.

"Just as she had comfortably seated herself on a log, I noticed a little old man tottering across the long foot-bridge that led over from the village. He was hurrying along, rapping his feet and his staff on the boards as fast as his seventy-odd years would allow. His long, snow-white hair waved on the midsummer breeze, while the long flaps of his old-fashioned coat were dangling about his thin, wabbly legs in a manner too funny for anything.

"As he drew near, I noticed that there were real tears in his eyes, and his withered old cheeks were much stained where they had fallen. Carefully I watched him as he drew near, and, with a feeling of deepest respect bowed low as he said in a tremulous, squeaky voice:

"'Good morning, Aunt Twaddles. Would you mind giving an old, life-long friend another bit of your candy?'

"In a second 'Aunt Twaddles' arose.

"'No sir!' she cried, with a frown, 'I gave you plenty of it, Sir, when you were a good little boy. Tobacco seems to be your favorite candy now from the appearance of your stained white beard, so you get none of mine.'

"And she began to empty her pockets that were filled with sweet, juicy bon-bons, over the brink and down into the stream; and shouldering her big bag of herbs, prepared to start up the face of the cliff. The little old man went tottering back over the foot-bridge to the village; nor is there any doubt that he went home and cried over the thought of her candy and kept crying until he forgot about it.

"And now," said the vagabond, "lest the thought of 'Aunt Twaddles'' candy brings tears to my eyes, for I have eaten some of it myself, let us pause for a moment while we more comfortably seat ourselves before I proceed with the story."

The almost vertical rays of the mid-day sun were pouring a merciless fire upon a portion of the charmed circle and the story-teller with his group of merry children was not slow in selecting a new spot further in under the protecting branches of the tree. The children had been so absorbed in the wonderful tale of the wanderer that they had failed to notice the intense heat until, down the faces of some of the smaller ones, drops of perspiration were flowing like tears.

Amid a clamorous shout of "Go on! Go on!" uttered in concert by the delighted children, it was thus the wanderer continued.