Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1851-07-31
MONTPELIER, VERMONT, THURSDAY,

of Ireland, with the intention, as he plainly in
timated, of relieving himself of all further obi
cations; indeed considering the extravagant
life which both he and his son led i could not
have expected any further assistance from him,
even if he had been anxious to afford it. A di-
ary which occasionally kept, and which you
will find in that little writing lease beside me,
the only property now possess,) will give you
more information as to the subsequent events Of
my cheerless life. But the recoections of the
past are SO agonizing to me, that | dare not
dwell upon them now. ] would not wish to dis
turb, by vain repinlngs, the blessed hope which
humbly entertain Of being soon reunited to those
loved SO londly here"
"And Mary" involuntarily CALCULATED
"Thanks be to God, she is at peace"
A cold shudder chilled through me as he
spoke, and an exclamation of passionate regrets
burst from my lips. But he needed it not. His
thoughts were far away, and on his wasted fea-
lures there rested fervent, trustful, had al
most said, heavenly expression, that silently
rebuked my selfish sorrow, and, abashod and
humbed, felt like guilty creature as | stood
beside the dying man.
He was now quite exhausted, and fell back
into an easy sort Of slumber. As it now wanted
but few minutes of the hour at which | had
appointed to meet Mr. B., left poor Shelton un-
der the care of the turnkey, who promised moi
to leave him until my return, and took my de-
parture with heavy heart.
On my way home, called at the house of a
relative of mine an eminent physician, and nc
less distinguished for his skill and experience as
as medical man, than for his humane, gentle
and compassionate disposition; one whose anx-
lous endenvor it ever was to soothe and alleviate
the mental as well as bodily suferings of his
patients. Nor was mistaken in supposing that
he would promptly accede to my request that
he would pay an immediate visit to the poor suf-
ferer. 81 will not delay moment, he said, in
a tone of great feeling, /" but fear from what
you have told me that can be of little service
to him now"
His carriage was at the door, and as he step.
ped into it, heard him say to the servant, "Tc
the Marsbalsea." then returned home, and as
Mr.. B. had not arrived, | had time to look al
some of the entries in the diary which had ia
ken from Shetons desk A few extracts from
its melancholy records will be necessary to ex
plain to the reader the causes which had reduc,
ed him 10 the state of destitution in which
found him:
"June 25, 1845-Arrived last night at my
new parsonage. A comfortable but rather gloomy
looking house, with a few shrubby, ill-growi
plantations round it, very much neglected, Th,
little lawn in stubbled. No vestige of howe
garden. However, Mary will soon set all tc
rights The last incumbent must have been
man of but little taste.
"2Hh.-This day went over to the parish
find, as feared that have but very few Prot
estant parishoners, and most of these live at
great distance. Depend chiefly for congrega
ton upon the police and my own household
The population of this district very Dense TIL
holdings very small. The quantity of potatoe
grown here are quite unusual.
.AuguSt 22d-More at home now. Mary ha
made our little parsonage assume quite a chez
ful and home.lko aspect. Dined yesterda
with Mr.. O'Donoghue, the proprietor of tn
greater part Of my parish. A hospitabe an
friendly man; very largo family, six sons, a
doing, and to do nothing, with the exception
one whom they call "colonel," He is intonde
for the army.
"June 25, 1846,-To-day is the anniversal
Of my first arrival in this parish. With what a
tered feeling do now regard this place. /
first sense of duty alone rcconciled me to II
dreariness and loneliness of this most primiti,
part of the world. Now am quite habituatt
to it, and have absolutely become attached TO II
little rectory. know every one in the paris
and am more than compensated for the absen(
of civilized society, by the friendly kindness,
: might almost say, the confding affection of Il
small farmers and poor people around us.
one feel this kindness is most undeserved. B
they could not but love my Mary; their earnel
unobtrusve instructress and adviser; their ge
: tle sympathetic nurse and comforter; their -
But never could sum up half her matchle
qualities.
l "Sept 3d-A Strange rumor abroad-'P
IIenessey, who works in the garden, tells n
that his brother, who holds a small farm close b
on examining his pits, discovered that gre
portion Of the potatoes had rotted away. pr
, God this may not prove to be the case with 9th
people, the consequences would be too fearfl
Henessey was always bad farmer; so, perhaI
the calamity is confined to him.
: {" Oct. 2Sh.-Thc accounts of the count
) on every side are heart-breaking. The blight
universal. We are in Gods hands, and I
alone knows when or how the plague can
stayed
"Jlne 25th, 18l7,-My second year in tt
place is at end to day, and oh, what RETROSPECT
A fearful winter have we gone through. But
is past we suffered many privations, and O
poorer neghbors still more but hope has 1
0 left US yet; never did the fruits Of the cal
d flourish more uxuriantly. Never had we INC
glorious promise of an abundant harvest.
J. may yet be we'll
Shame on the heart that dreams of blessings gone
Or waves the spectral forms of woe,
,r When Nature speaks of JOY and hope alone"
10 .NOr. 6th.-Truly the Destroying Angel /
again unsheathed his sword. All is desoIati
and despair. Hope has forsaken even the sto
So est hearts. Saw O'Donoghue to-day; he
I'd very despondng he says that he can collect
rents, and does not know where to get the MOI
Il to pay the interest on the family incumbranc
le Did not like to press him for my rent char
re but cannot do very much LONGER without IT,