Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1847-03-18


who volunteered to undertake the affair, de-
lighted with the prospect of heavy damages
and large fees.
Weeks passed on Peter De Roos grew
daily more and more exacting, Andrew Nor
ris more determined, his prudent spouse
more silent, and poor Minnie paer and
thinner.
Every one pitied her, for her pretty songs
were now unheard, and her vivacity was all
gone. But what of Harry Heart-broken
by his fathers rudeness and savage repulse
OF his petition, he sought sympathy and
home with relative some ten miles distant,
but the train of unhappy consequences fol-
lowing his ill-starred love was too much for
his unused spirit, and he fell fearfully ill.,
whole month--the whole of June, that
sweet time of roses and soft airs-was was
ted on a sick couch and when he recover
ed, he was so pale and depressed that every
one was more than ever exasperated at his
hard father.
Not far from the scene of all these sad
transactions lived old Farmer Wright, who,
alone, of all the neighbors, was never heard
to express one opinion on the subject. When
he thought much he rarely said much, and,
accordingly, curiosity was at its utmost in
regard to what his real sentiments WERE He
was quite as Independent, quite as self-cen-
tired as Peter De Roos himself and as the
latter held neither note, bond nor mortgage
against him, always sturdily withstood his
grasping selfshness, and had several times
rebuked his ungenerous conduct to his face.
And yet, somehow, a sort of friendship had
grown up between them. Farmer Wright
was the only man in the world whom De
Roos feared, or for whose good opinion he
cared, and consequently, he treated him with
more condescension and familiarity than
any other of his neighbors.
1t was wild autumnal evening" the wind
swept up the lawn that lay around the great
brick house, and roared out unearthly stam-
merngs in the tree tops. 1t gathered great
heaps of leaves together in little by-places,
and then suddenly lifted them into the air,
showering all the grass that, cold and dark
and low, lay close to the ground 1t enter
ed the room where Peter De Roos sat alone
with paper in his hands, but not reading.
1t threw itself headlong down the chimney,
and there sweled and rumbled and heaved
great gusty signs. Now it muttered strange
threatenings from the y-throat-now
hooted at the stars from the chimney-top-
Oh it was wild, wicked wind.
Peter De Roos grew more and more
thoughtful. He dropped the paper and res
ted his head on his hand He thought of
his gentle, loving boy, who never thwarted
him, never spoke or looked unkindly; he
thought of his loneliness-of Minnies suf-
ferings, and he was almost self-accused-
Just then the wind howled loudly in the
chimney, and rushing out, beat the shutters
hercely to, and then swept away down the
lawn. A loud rap was heard at the door
the old man started, and under the influence
of his thoughts, and their sudden Interrupt
ton, grew very pale. In moment Farmer
Wright was ushered into the sitting-room
by Mrs. Deming, and, shaking hands cor
daily, sat down opposite his friend, with his
usual look of composure and firmness.
A few common place remarks were ex-
changed and Farmer Wright calmly rested
his grey eyes on the perturbed face of his
host.
"Peter," said he
There was something unusual in the tone
of his voice that went to the heart of the
landlord
"Peter there is but one journey through
life, and no going back to rectify mistakes.
| have come to warn you that you have
made grievous mistake, and that there is
time enough yet left to make all right.
know | am about to NEEDLE with that which
is not my business and you may command
me to leave your house if you choose, l shall
not refuse"
There was no reply, and Farmer Wright
proceeded.
Peter, did you ever love your boy .
Didn't you always love him? Hasn't he
been better, and kinder, and more obedient
to you than common boys more so than
you felt in your heart that you deserved p
And now, because he dared to think for HIM
self once, you turn him from your doors !
Peter, you have done very wrong"
Whether | have done right or wrong
concerns me alone. have power over my
own house and property yet, and no son of
mine shall remain under my roof who choos-
es to be disobedient. Look here, Farmer
Wright, | know that you don't mean to be
impairment, or oflicious, SO I'll forgive you
for what wouldn't any body else. But don't
say another word on the subject. The young
man is my son no longer. If he chooses to
marry the daughter of wall-layer, he may !;
but he never will touch one dollar of my
property My wife was rich, my mother
was rich, and | never will consent to his
marrying any other than rich wife There
never was beggar yet in the DE Roos fam
ily."
Farmer Wright looked half with contempt
on the man before him, and then proceeded
in his usual voice -
Your wife, Peter You know Just how
much pleasure and comfort her silver brought
you You know that she exceeded even
yourself in her love of gain. You know
that she married you only because you were
| rich like herself-that you never loved each
other-never And YOU know how she died
Would you condemn your son to the same
joyless existence as your ownl Would you
have him the same care-worn, honeymoon
old man, sitting alone on such dismal night,
with only such thoughts as yours for COM
panyW
And the wind came back through the up
per sky, roaring and raging among the elms
and the easement clashed, and the timbers
shook through all the house 1t pealed out
loud shouts from the roof, and then mena.
cingly murmuring, rolled away.
| 90 have said that he is INV son no lonoer