Republican vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1857, 1849-05-21

the head of spinning wheel, or grandame's
chair and even ontrival the fine oak corbels and
spandrels in the village church Tor nothing so
pleased him. on such rare holidays as he had, as
sitting in the old vestry to carve out angels
wings, or knots of dropping corn, or groups OF
leaves on pieces of old oak, whilst eager village
children clustered round. The circumstance,
however, above all others, which preserved these
great faculties through the deadenlng influence
Of surrounding ignorance was his love for vii
lage girl, for whom he carved a choice work
box, and the head of her spinning wheel, and
repeated, so that she might remember it, all his
best poetry, about daisies, and birds and flowers:
andthis was very beautiful, Tor nature was Its
largest element
Well, with all this natural ability Joe's learn
ing got on slowly enough not exactly because
hesopld not read-for he now and then picked
up stray lesson from travelling pedlar, Or the
excseman as he came his rouiido--but becat5c
he had no books and out of his scanty wages,
with his mother dependent on him, it was i'm
possible to save. He had tried, but it was use
less. All this too, whilst golden harvests waved
upon the Fschool- gift" whilst the Fathers rested
in gold and velluln, whilst Infections and voices
were weighed in the grammarian's fractional
scale all this injustice and greatest of earth's
wrongs, that human faculties should rust I'M
taught
One Summer day, when Joe Beech was about
eighteen, some GRAND took him up to the hall
AS he was returning, he stopped before an open
window to look into the old library, filled with
books, but empty of all readers. Some one spoke
hastily, for the window looked on to the garden
terrace, and turning round, Joe to his consterna
ton beheld the squirrels lady and one OF her sons
he who had called Joe sfellow" the very day his
heart had been first filled with the music of God
-poetry-and its first harmony had rung round
the petals of the daisy
'.Well what are you doing?" was the lady's
question.
Poor Joe stammered out something about the
mighty lot of books"
"And what should you know about looks, my
felowW asked the young squire with grin; II
should think a rasher OF bacon rather more in
your way, eh2 Ha ha !"
Joe moved onward and made no answer, tho
when he thought of all his ignorance, and this
bitter scorn OF it, the tears ralned down upon his
horny hands. Yet one good effect arose out of
it it set him to think and after several days
meditation, he resolved to carve choice bit Of
wood he had at home, so that whenever he had
a holiday, he could carry it to the far-oH town
and try to sell it. This exquisite piece OF work
was accomplished sooner than the holiday came,
which was not before Christmas and then with
it tied in his pocket handkerchief he set off on
his great Journey. After much bargaining, the
labor of weeks was sold for dozen shillines to
a picture dealer; and Joe, after purchasing few
second hand books that the eAciseman long be-
fore had noted down for him, took his way home
very proud and happy, with his bundle tucked
beneath his smock trock. After his long days
pestuous, so that he could hardly find his way a.
long the well known miry lanes. Still he got
on so bravely that scarcely mile of his journey
remained, though there yet lay between him and
the village broad and rapid brook passed over
by narrow hand-bridge, whilst a few yards fur
ther down was a ford for wagons and horses
When Joe reached the bridge, he found her who
knew his songs so WE'LL waiting for him with a
lantern and he had just stopped to speak and
take her hand, and tell her OF the Joy of his heart
and how, presently, on the bright hearth they
would unite the wondrous bundle when some one
rode rapidly down to the ford, and spurred the
unwilling horse into the rapid water In a mo-
ment there was mans wild cry, the founder
ing and snorting of the horse, and the girls wild
scream that it was the young squire. And what
did Joe, untaught "eater of bacon" and 'clod-
hopper as he was! he disengaged himself
from the clinging and terrified girl forgot the
precious bundle, which dropped from the mar
row bridge into the rapid stream below, and,
though he could not swim, plunged in. The
horse was out of his depth, and the young man
having lost his seat, had fallen with his foot en-
tangled in the stirrpp, and dragged by the horse,
was rapidly sinking. Joe clutched him, bore
him up, and clinging to the branch of an over
arching tree, held on, till some people from a
neighboring cottage came rushing to the spot and
rescued both from their perilohs position. The
young squire was insensible; but Joe it was that
could not stand upright when they lifted him on
to the steep and slippery bank. The horse, in
its fearful plunges, had kicked him fatally; and
Joe, instead of carrying home with buoyant heart
his little mine of happiness and knowledge, was
borne to a bed of death, though lingering one of
weeks long hours of which he knew not face
around him. But in that interval naughty pride
knelt by that bed remorselessly subdued for here
lay perishing those grand and noble elements that
had prompted the magnificent heart of nature to
save her child. Who, despising ignorance, can
know the angel nature it depises? And pray
and ever make. it one great hymn sovereign in
the ears of humanity! By that poor bed
knelt plying villagers, telling some story of his
kindly heart by that poor bed knelt little chill
dren telling of vestry hours when leaves were
carved, and shcaves OF dropping corn; by that
poor bed knelt his broken-heared mother, telling
of love and duty and years of sufferance for her
sake and by that poor bedknelt the village girl
long loved, and to astonishing and listening ears
whispered, soft and low, the rude but natural
poetry OF a heart so magnificent and divine by
its great qualities. That such nature persisted
untaught, this was indeed "EARTH's WORST
TRAGEDY" forhere were elements ofnature waste
and lost
The hand of the poor ploughboy rested in that
of the young squire before he died, "Oh, sir"
he said ;,'never despise ignorance, however low
ly, for all of us have something of beauty and
good within to be made better by merciful words
and gentle teaching"
The grass waves long over the grave of the
ploughboy, though pathways are made to it by
many feet, the lightest and ottenest of which are
chldren's who now in the Young squirrels new,
wel-taught school, learn poor Joes poetry of the
daisy and the cowslip and in the summer eve
aings, when the angels in the tinted church win
dow look glowingly on them, they say it over
soft and slow, and think perhaps the waving grass
keeps time with the recital And travellers |