Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1862-03-06
Murtester 4arIp Spy.
AN OLD cLERGYMAN,s STORY.

house '-as wondering who could be there,
disturbing the aim )st Sabbath Stiffness OF tue
midsummer day, when Maria the housemaid,
came to informIme that there was strange
man at the woodpile, and to request that l
should go and see WHIP it was.
looked from window and discovered an
il! dressed fellow carelessly swinging the axe,
and hacking here and there a stick in an unde-
decided manner, with his head down, and his
face shaded by the brim of very bad hat.
There was something in his staggering at
titude which l thought | recognized but it
was sometimei before could realize that in
those beggarly habiliments l saw the son of
one OF our most worthy and respected citizens.
stepped to the door.
Martin Lockwood, said I, ''is it you 90
81 suppose it's me, he replied, giving the axe
reckless flourish with one hand, and striking
it into log. ri thought I'd cut little wood
for you, by the way OF amusement"
made no answer, and he stood for mo-
ment looking at anything except up-rolling
the quid in his cheek, and wiping the sweat
from beneath his hat brim-with an evident
attempt to keep up the old staggering man
ner, while conscious shame was fast mastering
him.
81 guess you are little astonished at see
ing me, /" he said, after an awkward pause, re-
suming his hold of the axe handle, and leaning
OH it.
Eyes, Martin L am good deal astonish-
ed"
1--WE way of astonishing folks. aston
ish myself little. hardly know how came
here, but here am if l am not welcome, I'll
put Oft again-the world is wide--Im bound
to live somewhere-a man must live, you
know
He laughed at first, but his voice grew hard
and bitter, and there was look of wildness
and desperation in his eyes, as lie proceeded !;
and could perceive that the shame which
covered him was being shaken and flungawa
by rising and swelling passions.
You are welcome, Martin come in"
He flung down the axe, which he had grasp.
ed again with savage recklessness and fol-
lowed me, swinging his hat, and taking long
strides through the hail. with haughtiness
defiant of rags.
ut had thoughtyo came to see me, Mar
tin, should have welcomed you before. You
have picked up new fashions in your travels ;
am not used to visitors that 90 to chopping
at the woOdpile instead OF knocking at the
door. Sit down. I'll take your hat.
lie sank slouchingy upon chair; but in
stead of giving me his hat, he scaled it care
lessly into one corner OF the room.
81 suppose it wouldn't be considered fit TO
enter a decent mans house." said he crossing
his legs with an arrogant bend of The neck,
II wouldn't knock and be retueed-Ive
been something of scamp and a good deal of
fool know it as well as any body"
"And you are sorrier for it than you are
willing any one should think" said l.
There's no use in being sorry for what
can't be helped"
eyes, there is-great use in it, Martin. Re.
pentance is the water that helps us wash clean
again when we have been in the mire. 10
wi md
perate air, as you are endeavoring to do, is to
add foolishness to folly"
"Well, you are right there" said Martin
frankly, penetrated by the direct truthiuness
with which met him. IL Cont know wheth.
er am exactly sorry, but, tell you, sir,
am furious when think what perfect fool
have been-what a disgrace to myselt-what
shame to my folks, who suppose won own
me again, fool that amp
He CRASHED his teeth together, with an ex.
preston of Iemorse and c0nvulsive pain which
drew me nearer TO him than [ could get be-
fore. Hardened vllainy repels us but the
moment the sinner sottens, the moment pen-
tence appears, our sympathies flow out TO
him, all the deeper and mOreimpulsive for the
barrier of guilt which has kept us from him
hitherto, but which we now feel breaking
away.
40, Martini said l. "is this indeed you
the boy l used to watch with such interest as
you grew up, hoping such great and good
things of you'll o, Martin, where have you
been 2"
Pity and tender affection gushed from my
heart, and prevented him from taking offence
at anything l might say. And | went on,
pcturing to him the promise of lis boyhood,
the love and expectation of his friends, the
noble and happy life he might have lived, and
the darkly contrasting career of vice and
wretchedness to which his youth had been
abandoned.
His staggering defiance was all gone, and
tears of anguish and contrition ran down his
sun burnt face
81 know it all know it all !" he said,
with sitting sobs. 81 have thought of my
home until my heart yearns as if it would
break But don't dare to go there, 1 can't
bear to have my sisters see me soft would
kill my mother And my father will never
forgive me !"
''Your father is an excellent, kind man"
said
81 know that, but he is stern, and when his
mind is made up, it is like melting granite 10
attempt to move him l wrote him few
weeks ago, telling him was willing to come
back. Here is his answer"
Martin took a letter from a pocket of his
tattered coat. and gave it to me to read.
In a hand that trembled with emotion-in
words that seemed all alive with the grief of
broken.hearted father yet stern as That ia.
TIERS iron will--the old man had responded
to his sons appeal.
Instead of money, he sent him reproaches
for the past and counsel for the future. In.
stead OF inviting him home with loving well
come, he reminded him of the many and ear
nest warnings with which he had endeavored
to check his sons ruinous career.
h,ua l.
said "You have reduced me almost to beg
gary in my old age have sent you to school
in vain. paid twelve hundred dollars to keep
you out OF Jail, when in a fit Of drunkenness
you had set fire to Squire Ames' house l
trusted two thousand dollars to you, to set
you mp in business, on your solemn pledges of
fidelity and industry. You squandered every
cent of it. / have paid tor the carriages you
have broken, and for horses you have ruined
by over-Iriving How have ! been rewarded
for all this? What encouragement have !
now to send you money in your distress
You have forfeited all claim upon me. Never
send or come to me again for assistance. You
have gone wiltully from my heart and my
home, and your follies have blocked up the
way behind you"
A few words Of solemn entreaty that Mar
tin would by vrtuous conduct redeem the past
concluded the memorable fathers letter.
"You see" said the young man, who had
recovered himself, while was reading "there
doesn't seem to be much chance for me there
But something has driven me back. 1t ISM
my poverty alone, for could have done some
thlhg-or could have starved / would rath
er nave starved; but was forced to come