The Sierra citizen., 1854-07-15

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scientific farmer was early taught
the difference between berkshire and q
Potnter-the beauties Of straight furrow,
and the exact proportions of the hills in !
yell hoed patch ofiPosstoes;s4bsf more
particularly. that sr4s growing is. the
corners of the fences was "no good" farm
ing.
Our schoolhouse stood upon the turn
pike, charming spot for p4dagogue ex-
istence. ''fhe roadssforked" just beyond,
and every morning the stage-coaches-
one, two, three in number, went whirling
by the door. mounted by burly drivers, in
all the pomposity ofnnothinghess-as uli-
concerned as though our little brain was
not sustaining q pressure equal to. .'the
weight Of Empires, in vain efforts to re-
member the difference between p and d.
Many were the castigations received in
that old school-horse, and many the in
vectives poured upon our tyrant Of q
master-more particularly when he gave
US uhmistakable evidence of his wrath. by
producing that fast departing relic Of an
age of barbarity-a bundle Of well trimmed
rods. One rebellious urchin-his name
was John Armstrong, was forever insert.
ing pins into the inexpressibles of VIM
Carver, who stood forth valiant oppo-
nent to the art Of perfection.
One morning-I remember it go we'll
| was quite little girl then, but large
enough to wipe the dishes for Joan, our
unparalleled maid of all works." who be.
longed to the order of the Gross and Rosa
ry, and had gone to celebrate st. Patricks
day. | was standing in my little chair by
the table, doing my portion of drying the
China. | always loved my mother dearly;
but this morning had been unusually ac-
tive, and very affectionate. Cause why |!
there was to be spellins-school that eve
4
ning in an adjoining district, and preco-
cious youth had invited Harriet Hunt and
to 60 with him in cutter; with the fastest
horse, largest buffalo-robe, innumarable
bells. etc. My mother had refused her
consent to my going, and tried to reason
the matter by telling me l was too young,
would get cold, go to sleep. and ended by
saying might pay a visit with her the
next day to MY aunt Sarah in town, and
wear my red CATERS. But twas so much
reasoning thrown away. What cared
for d thousand aunt Sarah's or thousand
pair of red CATERS, so long as must tell
Giles Slocum | could not go to spelling
school. A large sized rebellion was going
on in my heart, and with one dash of my
hand l sent in broken fragments to the
floor an ancient and much valued milk
cup, decended to the family through long
line of "illustrious predecessors" My
mother bent upon me her large earnest
eyes, more III sorrow than anger said
she did not love such proud, naughty,
| girl-tied OH my sun-bonnet, hung the
dinner basket on my arm. and told me to
go straight to school. Feeling already
the paags of a reproviay conscience, / lin
gered some moments on the plaza, still too
proud to return. and ask my mothers for
giveness, and receive the accustomed kiss
without which | never left her. When half
way down the lane, could go no farther
Seating myself upon a stone, how cheer
less and IMPLYING everything looked
around me; l hung my dinner-basket on a
corner Of the fence and slowly returned my
steps back to the house. Not finding my
mother in the dining-room, l softly opened
the nursery door, and there on her Bonded
knees, with my baby sister in her arms
its little face wet with her fast falling
tears, she duplicated the most High to
subdue the stubborn will of her child
With my arms around her neck, my head
on her bosom, and the fountains Of my own
heart in state of inundation, l sobbed-
mother, forgive me-" The weight of .
mountain was removed-the memory Of
that kiss of reconciliation is as fresh as
though imprinted on my lips but yester-
dayh, vile these words of my dear
parent are indellibly written upon my
mind: "the acknowledgment Of your fault,
my daughter--the sincerity Of your re-
pentance, and the privilege Of bestowing
my forgiveness, afford me more gra;i6car
on than would q thousand milk-cups.
though they were made of gold I"
did not go to school that day. In
the evening | went for my dinner-bastket;
its contents for aught | know had been
flood for raveas, for it was empty. 81