The dollar weekly bulletin. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1862-1864, 1863-03-26
HARRY WATSON, OR OUR CLASS.
A REMINIsCENCE OF THE PAST.


A REMINISCENCE OF THE PAST.
ave are growing old how the thought will rise
When a glance is backward cast,
To some well remembered spot that lies
In the dEn1ness of the past.h
There was no one more universally be-
loved by his schoolmates, and admired by
the inhabitants of our country village than
| Harry Watson. There was a becoming
modesty about his manners, a refinement
about his ways, a suaVity in his disposition,
benevolence in his heart, and a warmth oil
affection in his bosom, which won for him
the esteem of the young and DID,. Seldom,
If ever, was Harry Watson seen arraigned
as prisoner for misdemeanor before the
desk of old George Clark, the village school
master; md everywhere was he held up as
worthy example for i'm itation by the parents
of his school mates, and by old George
Clark, who with emphasis would often ex-
claim that Harry Watson would become a
great man yet. Yet no one was more
sprigbtly in the play or fond Of amusement
than Harry. -, .
Harry Watson was the only son of a poor
widow, who was compelled through neces-
sity to gain her livelihood by her needle
His father had died when he was vet but q
child, and bad been one of the most inhu-
entail as well as aff1uent m en- in the village.
At his death he left all his earthly posses
sions to his bereaved wife; but she enjoyed
their blessings only a short time: for some
avericious and dishonest neighbors attempt
ed to break the will of Charles Watson, and
after long trial. they succeeded, and chea-
ted the helpless widow out of every dollar
of her property, and she became suddenly
poor. There were many hearts that svm pa
thized with the unfortunate widow; for th ey
were coDcious that by an unjust trial-by
bribery and deception-she bad been wron-
ged out of her rightful possessions
Although there came change, an un-
expected change over the circumstances
of Mrs. Watson, yet in her misfortunes she
was still as much thought of, still as respec-
ted as when she rode in her golden car OF
prosperity. and plenty filed her hearth
For Mrs. Watson was an exemplary Chris
:ian, and her benevolence to the poor had
n ade her beloved aud admired by all Ex-
ercisiDg that true, God-like piety which re.
veals itself distinctly in the outward walk
through a whole course of life, she did not
neglect to install the true principles of mo-
rality deeply within the young heart of her
son, and to teach him the sacred precepts of
religion, and thus to to build within his bo
som a foundation of virtue, which would
lead him safely through the labyrinths of
temptation, and throw around him mantle
Of morality which would protect him in af.
ter years from the fascination of vice.
We have remarked that Harry was band
some-and so, Indeed he was. His light
blue eyes, his nut-brown hair, which curIsd
beautifully over his snow-white expansive
forehead, the healthful glow upon bis
Il fIal
though feminine appearance. And this was
Harry Watson. 1t was not much to be
wondered at, then. that be was a favorite
with all the girls of the village, and par
ticular one of Clara Gray's the youthful
belle of Greenvilltown. Clara was a sweet
and lovely creature, and many were the
young hearts who sough to win her sm lies,
to steal kiss from her rose bud lips, to be
her mate in the play, or her guardian when
we slrolled through the forests or over the
green hills; but Harry Watson, was always
the successful aspirant. .
Clara Gray was the only daughter of the
wealthy farmer Gray, whose house stood a
little back from the village, on the banks
of a ripping stream None were greater
friends than Squire Watson and Farm Ter
GRAY; ard since his decease. and the change
of circumstances of the Watsons, it never
theless did not lessen the friendship which
had ever existed between the two families.
Time few rapidly away, Harry Watson
grew with his years. None could excel h i'm
in drawing and painting, and his beautiful
specimens always gained for him the high
est mark of favor at our yearly exhibitions.
Harry was a poet, too; and as he grew old er,
his propensities for painting and poetry be-
came more visibly developed. Nought
| L |. IL
along the banks of the the little stream
that coursed its way around the village, and
sketch the scene before him, and then to
compose something in verse to his Clara
But we must hurry on with our sketch,
throw away the intervening years of Harry's
school boy days up to the hour when he
| was about to bid farewell to his friends and
school-mates. and take journey far away
to try his fortune in the busy world.
1t was bright spring morning when iu
! front of the habitation of widow Watson
an anxious group had gathered. Harry was
about leaving the paternal roof where be
had been Durtured, to go he knew moi
whither--was about to bid adieu to all thai
! he held dear-about to shake for the last
! time the hands of many a loved comrade
never again, perhaps, to look upon them
certainly never more to mingleS with them
in the play, or tread the pathway to the old
school house. There were tears in many
eyes, there were sighs heaved from many {
bosom, and carts that were sorrowful and
sad. -5 -=a fE ~ ~
God bless you, my boy! Mind the ad
vice that / have always given you-b'
! honest, faithful to every duty, and you viii
growu to manhood respected aud honored.'
] And then that dear old mother of Harry
! lifted her trembling hand above his droop-
! ing head, and with faltering voice breath
ed silent blessing on her boy.
'Good bye, Harry came from many a sad
deped heart; and as reached forth to grasl
/ his hand and falter those sorrowful words