Withthewordinhismouth，heupliftedtheaxe，andlaidabouthim
sovigorouslythatthedustflew，theboardscrashed，and，ina
twinkling，theoldwomanhadanapronfullofbrokenrubbish。
“Weshallgetourwinter’swoodcheap。”quothTabitha。
Thegoodworkbeingthuscommenced，Peterbeatdownallbeforehim，
smitingandhewingatthejoistsandtimbers，unclinchingspike-nails，
rippingandtearingawayboards，withatremendousracket，from
morningtillnight。Hetookcare，however，toleavetheoutside
shellofthehouseuntouched，sothattheneighborsmightnot
suspectwhatwasgoingon。
Never，inanyofhisvagaries，thougheachhadmadehimhappywhile
itlasted，hadPeterbeenhappierthannow。Perhaps，afterall，
therewassomethinginPeterGoldthwaite’sturnofmind，whichbrought
himaninwardrecompenseforalltheexternalevilthatitcaused。
Ifhewerepoor，ill-clad，evenhungry，andexposed，asitwere，tobe
utterlyannihilatedbyaprecipiceofimpendingruin，yetonlyhis
bodyremainedinthesemiserablecircumstances，whilehisaspiring
soulenjoyedthesunshineofabrightfuturity。Itwashisnatureto
bealwaysyoung，andthetendencyofhismodeoflifetokeephim
so。Grayhairswerenothing，no，norwrinkles，norinfirmity；hemight
lookold，indeed，andbesomewhatdisagreeablyconnectedwitha
gauntoldfigure，muchtheworseforwear；butthetrue，theessential
Peterwasayoungmanofhighhopes，justenteringontheworld。At
thekindlingofeachnewfire，hisburnt-outyouthroseafreshfrom
theoldembersandashes。Itroseexultingnow。Havinglivedthus
long-nottoolong，butjusttotherightage-asusceptiblebachelor，
withwarmandtenderdreams，heresolved，sosoonasthehiddengold
shouldflashtolight，togoa-wooing，andwintheloveofthefairest
maidintown。Whatheartcouldresisthim？HappyPeterGoldthwaite！
Everyevening-asPeterhadlongabsentedhimselffromhisformer
lounging-places，atinsuranceoffices，news-rooms，andbook-stores，
andasthehonorofhiscompanywasseldomrequestedinprivate
circles-heandTabithausedtositdownsociablybythekitchen
hearth。Thiswasalwaysheapedplentifullywiththerubbishofhis
day’slabor。Asthefoundationofthefire，therewouldbea
goodly-sizedbacklogofredoak，which，afterbeingshelteredfrom
rainordampaboveacentury，stillhissedwiththeheat，and
distilledstreamsofwaterfromeachend，asifthetreehadbeen
cutdownwithinaweekortwo。Nextthesewerelargesticks，sound，
black，andheavy，whichhadlosttheprincipleofdecay，andwere
indestructibleexceptbyfire，whereintheyglowedlikered-hotbars
ofiron。Onthissolidbasis，Tabithawouldrearalighter
structure，composedofthesplintersofdoorpanels，ornamented
mouldings，andsuchquickcombustibles，whichcaughtlikestraw，and
threwabrilliantblazehighupthespaciousflue，makingitssooty
sidesvisiblealmosttothechimneytop。Meantime，thegleamofthe
oldkitchenwouldbechasedoutofthecobwebbedcorners，andaway
fromtheduskycross-beamsover-head，anddrivennobodycouldtell
whither，whilePetersmiledlikeagladsomeman，andTabithaseemed
apictureofcomfortableage。Allthis，ofcourse，wasbutanemblem
ofthebrightfortunewhichthedestructionofthehousewouldshed
uponitsoccupants。
Whilethedrypinewasflamingandcrackling，likeanirregular
dischargeoffairymusketry，Petersatlookingandlistening，ina
pleasantstateofexcitement。But，whenthebriefblazeanduproar
weresucceededbythedark-redglow，thesubstantialheat，andthe
deepsingingsound，whichweretolastthroughouttheevening，his
humorbecametalkative。Onenight，thehundredthtime，heteased
Tabithatotellhimsomethingnewabouthisgreat-granduncle。
“Youhavebeensittinginthatchimneycornerfifty-fiveyears，old
Tabby，andmusthaveheardmanyatraditionabouthim。”saidPeter。
“Didnotyoutellmethat，whenyoufirstcametothehouse，therewas
anoldwomansittingwhereyousitnow，whohadbeenhousekeeperto
thefamousPeterGoldthwaite？”
“Sotherewas，Mr。Peter。”answeredTabitha，“andshewasnear
aboutahundredyearsold。SheusedtosaythatsheandoldPeter
Goldthwaitehadoftenspentasociableeveningbythekitchenfire-
prettymuchasyouandIaredoingnow，Mr。Peter。”
“Theoldfellowmusthaveresembledmeinmorepointsthanone。”
saidPeter，complacently，“orheneverwouldhavegrownsorich。
But，methinks，hemighthaveinvestedthemoneybetterthanhedid-no
interest！nothingbutgoodsecurity！andthehousetobetorndown
tocomeatit！Whatmadehimhideitsosnug，Tabby？”
“Becausehecouldnotspendit。”saidTabitha；“forasoftenas
hewenttounlockthechest，theOldScratchcamebehindandcaught
hisarm。Themoney，theysay，waspaidPeteroutofhispurse；and
hewantedPetertogivehimadeedofthishouseandland，whichPeter
sworehewouldnotdo。”
“JustasIsworetoJohnBrown，myoldpartner。”remarkedPeter。
“Butthisisallnonsense，Tabby！Idon’tbelievethestory。”
“Well，itmaynotbejustthetruth。”saidTabitha；“forsomefolks
saythatPeterdidmakeoverthehousetotheOldScratch，and
that’sthereasonithasalwaysbeensounluckytothemthatlived
init。AndassoonasPeterhadgivenhimthedeed，thechestflew
open，andPetercaughtupahandfulofthegold。But，loandbehold！
therewasnothinginhisfistbutaparcelofoldrags。”
“Holdyourtongue，yousillyoldTabby！”criedPeteringreat
wrath。“Theywereasgoodgoldenguincasaseverboretheeffigies
ofthekingofEngland。ItseemsasifIcouldrecollectthewhole
circumstance，andhowI，oroldPeter，orwhoeveritwas，thrustinmy
hand，orhishand，anddrewitoutallofablazewithgold。Oldrags，
indeed！”
Butitwasnotanoldwoman’slegendthatwoulddiscouragePeter
Goldthwaite。Allnightlonghesleptamongpleasantdreams，and
awokeatdaylightwithajoyousthroboftheheart，whichfeware
fortunateenoughtofeelbeyondtheirboyhood。Dayafterdayhe
laboredhardwithoutwastingamoment，exceptatmealtimes，when
Tabithasummonedhimtotheporkandcabbage，orsuchothersustenance
asshehadpickedup，orProvidencehadsentthem。Beingatrulypious
man，Peterneverfailedtoaskablessing；ifthefoodwerenoneof
thebest，thensomuchthemoreearnestly，asitwasmoreneeded-
nortoreturnthanks，ifthedinnerhadbeenscanty，yetforthe
goodappetite，whichwasbetterthanasickstomachatafeast。Then
didhehurrybacktohistoil，and，inamoment，waslosttosight
inacloudofdustfromtheoldwalls，thoughsufficientlyperceptible
totheearbytheclatterwhichheraisedinthemidstofit。How
enviableistheconsciousnessofbeingusefullyemployed！Nothing
troubledPeter；ornothingbutthosephantomsofthemindwhichseem
likevaguerecollections，yethavealsotheaspectofpresentiments。
Heoftenpaused，withhisaxeupliftedintheair，andsaidto
himself-“PeterGoldthwaite，didyouneverstrikethisblow
before？”-or，“Peter，whatneedoftearingthewholehousedown？Think
alittlewhile，andyouwillrememberwherethegoldishidden。”
Daysandweekspassedon，however，withoutanyremarkablediscovery。
Sometimes，indeed，alean，grayratpeepedforthatthelean，gray
man，wonderingwhatdevilhadgotintotheoldhouse，whichhadalways
beensopeaceabletillnow。And，occasionally，Petersympathized
withthesorrowsofafemalemouse，whohadbroughtfiveorsix
pretty，little，softanddelicateyoungonesintotheworldjustin
timetoseethemcrushedbyitsruin。But，asyet，notreasure！
Bythistime，Peter，beingasdeterminedasFateandasdiligentas
Time，hadmadeanendwiththeuppermostregions，andgotdownto
thesecondstory，wherehewasbusyinoneofthefrontchambers。It
hadformerlybeenthestatebed-chamber，andwashonoredby
traditionasthesleepingapartmentofGovernorDudley，andmanyother
eminentguests。Thefurniturewasgone。Therewereremnantsoffaded
andtatteredpaper-hangings，butlargerspacesofbarewallornamented
withcharcoalsketches，chieflyofpeople’sheadsinprofile。These
beingspecimensofPeter’syouthfulgenius，itwentmoretohis
hearttoobliteratethemthaniftheyhadbeenpicturesonachurch
wallbyMichaelAngelo。Onesketch，however，andthatthebestone，
affectedhimdifferently。Itrepresentedaraggedman，partly
supportinghimselfonaspade，andbendinghisleanbodyoverahole
intheearth，withonehandextendedtograspsomethingthathehad
found。Butclosebehindhim，withafiendishlaughonhisfeatures，
appearedafigurewithhorns，atuftedtail，andaclovenhoof。
“Avaunt，Satan！”criedPeter。“Themanshallhavehisgold！”
Upliftinghisaxe，hehitthehornedgentlemansuchablowonthe
headasnotonlydemolishedhim，butthetreasure-seekeralso，and
causedthewholescenetovanishlikemagic。Moreover，hisaxebroke
quitethroughtheplasterandlaths，anddiscoveredacavity。
“Mercyonus，Mr。Peter，areyouquarrellingwiththeOldScratch？”
saidTabitha，whowasseekingsomefueltoputunderthepot。
Withoutansweringtheoldwoman，Peterbrokedownafurtherspace
ofthewall，andlaidopenasmallclosetorcupboard，ononeside
ofthefireplace，aboutbreasthighfromtheground。Itcontained
nothingbutabrasslamp，coveredwithverdigris，andadustypieceof
parchment。WhilePeterinspectedthelatter，Tabithaseizedthe
lamp，andbegantorubitwithherapron。
“Thereisnouseinrubbingit，Tabitha。”saidPeter。“Itisnot
Aladdin’slamp，thoughItakeittobeatokenofasmuchluck。Look
here，Tabby！”
Tabithatooktheparchmentandhelditclosetohernose，whichwas
saddledwithapairofiron-boundspectacles。Butnosoonerhadshe
begantopuzzleoveritthansheburstintoachucklinglaugh，holding
bothherhandsagainsthersides。
“Youcan’tmakeafooloftheoldwoman！”criedshe。“Thisis
yourownhandwriting，Mr。Peter！thesameasintheletteryousentme
fromMexico。”
“Thereiscertainlyaconsiderableresemblance。”saidPeter，
againexaminingtheparchment。“Butyouknowyourself，Tabby，that
thisclosetmusthavebeenplasteredupbeforeyoucametothe
house，orIcameintotheworld。No，thisisoldPeterGoldthwaite’s
writing；thesecolumnsofpounds，shillings，andpencearehis
figures，denotingtheamountofthetreasure；andthisatthebottom
is，doubtless，areferencetotheplaceofconcealment。Buttheink
haseitherfadedorpeeledoff，sothatitisabsolutelyillegible。
Whatapity！”
“Well，thislampisasgoodasnew。That’ssomecomfort。”said
Tabitha。
“Alamp！”thoughtPeter。“Thatindicateslightonmyresearches。”
Forthepresent，Peterfeltmoreinclinedtoponderonthis
discoverythantoresumehislabors。AfterTabithahadgone
downstairs，hestoodporingovertheparchment，atoneofthefront
windows，whichwassoobscuredwithdustthatthesuncouldbarely
throwanuncertainshadowofthecasementacrossthefloor。Peter
forceditopen，andlookedoutuponthegreatstreetofthetown，
whilethesunlookedinathisoldhouse。Theair，thoughmild，and
evenwarm，thrilledPeteraswithadashofwater。
ItwasthefirstdayoftheJanuarythaw。Thesnowlaydeepupon
thehouse-tops，butwasrapidlydissolvingintomillionsof
water-drops，whichsparkleddownwardsthroughthesunshine，withthe
noiseofasummershowerbeneaththeeaves。Alongthestreet，the
troddensnowwasashardandsolidasapavementofwhitemarble，
andhadnotyetgrownmoistinthespring-liketemperature。Butwhen
Peterthrustforthhishead，hesawthattheinhabitants，ifnotthe
town，werealreadythawedoutbythiswarmday，aftertwoorthree
weeksofwinterweather。Itgladdenedhim-agladnesswithasigh
breathingthroughit-toseethestreamofladies，glidingalongthe
slipperysidewalks，withtheirredcheekssetoffbyquiltedhoods，
boas，andsablecapes，likerosesamidstanewkindoffoliage。The
sleigh-bellsjingledtoandfrocontinually：sometimesannouncing