Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1845-07-11
~ ! s c ell u q d.
GEORGE DAMER.
by Eliza S. Pratt.


''Where's George!" said Mr. Damer-a stout
listed farmer, with his black beard and whiskers
and muscle enough in his arm for two common
men-as he entered his house one warm sum-
mer's afternoon, and looked around amongst his
group of sturdy boys and girls for the one IN,
question But the boy was missing.
where's George, I say!' repeated the man in
louder tone; edo you know where the young
rascal is, any of ye?"
81 guess he's up stairs, father" said sweet
little girl Of six years. her eye filling with tears,
and her voice trembling as she spoke; a heard
somebody going up real easy about two hours a.
20; shall | call him father? Pm sure George
wouldn't run away"
'Go away" said Mr. Damer in a soltened
tone, tell him want him quick
AS the child went out, Mrs Damer laid down
her work, glanced at her husband and after hes
itating moment evidently uneasy, arose and
went after her daughter But the boy was not
to be found. The house was searched from cell
lar to garnet, barns hunted, and 'Gerge, George,
echoed from youngest to oldest, from the fathers
stentorian lungs to the mothers mild, sweet
voice-for she would have done any thing to
save her boy from a thrashng, which she had
good reason to expect from the storm that was
brewing.
"Always out Of the way" said Damor, cIench-
ing his fist, and rudcy pushing Mary aside from
the door, already black in the face with passion
and his eyes flashing fire. I'lI teach the young
rascal lesson he won't forget soon, if once
catch him. Hid him away somewhere with a
nook, PII warrant ye---thats always his cut,
Sinking clear Of every thing he can.
Mrs Damer stepped forward pale as death,
and laid her hand on his arm
Don't whip him now beg you; remember it
was only last week you gave him such logging,
and---and---all for nothing, as it proved, for he
had done his work then; and this morning he
brought in all the wood and water for me, every
bit of it. he's more help to me than all the rest of
the children put together
you needn't try to beg him off, exclaimed
the man, 'he never was Aogged half enough yet,
the idle dog---but if catch him now, III give it
to him
So saying, he shook off the trembling hand
that would have detained him, and taking a
heavy horse whip from the Wagon at the door,
walked off shaking it hither and thther, as finn
patient to set it to work, and all the time NUT
tering curses between his clenched teeth The
mother of the boy turned away and wiped the
tears from her face, but said nothing. Little
Mary cried as if her heart would break, and the
two elder boys stood in the door, trying to whis-
tie and look careless; but the quivering lip bar
red all their efforts, and they stole off in the hay
NOV with tears on their cheeks.
Mr. Damer had suddenly wanted the boy; he
needed the assistance of the three, was really in
hurry and one missing, the one to whom he
had always been snappish GfI may be per-
mlted to use the term) and without any con-
ceivable reason, his anger passed all bounds.
When he reached the skirt of the wood he
felt prepared for almost any thing. Had he once
turned his head as he passed the turnip field,
things might have taken different course The
whole enclosure was nicely and completely no.
ed out large as was the task for boy of his
size and the hoe was cleaned and hung gttcring
in the sum- from the nook of an apple tree. But
all this was lost, for it was unseen by the father
of the boy
The beech woods were the fayorite resort Of
George, when he could get away with book
or bit of paper, no matter how old, worn or
greasy, it was food for him, and there lay his
paradise 1t was not long before Mr. Damer dis
covered the child stretched at full length on a
grassy mound beneath a tree A brook ran url-
ING and laughing at his feet---a thousand birds
were singing around and above him---the green
turf bespangled with flowers, filling the air with
their delicious fragrance, and there, PROSTATE
in the grass amid all the loneliness of a glo-
rious summer day, lay that young boy feastlng
over few worn pages Of an old Spectator! Tears
were standing on his pale but intelligent face,
though his lip was wreahed with a smile, and
one small hand, as it lay on the grass, graspcd
nervously the flowers, while his large beautiful
eye, turned rapidly and eagerly from side to side
the much loved page. He was wrapt in a world
Of ideal, but bissful feeling, and the sight might
have moved almost any heart to love and admir-
alton for the boy, but it only served to increase
the fathers rage.
George, George
No answer.
What are you here for, you young, good fol
nothing scape grace, when you onght to be il
the turnip field to work I'll teach yon better
sir, get up quick and come here ?
Still there was no answer The boy was
smiling and weeping in ecstacy, and heard not
syllable ofhs fathers words. He approached
step nearer, brandshing the whip.
'Hollol | say what are you about sirl Ye hac
better mind your father, can tell ye
Mr. Damer was now within few steps of hi
son, but so wrapt was the boy in that dirty scral
of book which one in ten thousand Of moderl
readers would scarcely dare to look upon, mucl
dess to read-such aluxury was it to that poo
child to have the mine Of thought and sfeelin,
laid open to him, by the master pen of Addison
which, young as he was, he could comprehend