The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1866-09-13
A SUNDAY A CENTURY AGO.

leaves yellow, the writing scarcely legiblt
from time and decay evidently, an old
neglected manuscript. TO the fire or tC
my private shelf? Which =?
These were my reflections as looked ov.
er the papers of my late uncle, the rector Of
a Somersetshire village
liked the look of the book and decided
for the shelf; and had my reward, for
found in the grabbed characters simple
story, evidently written towards the close
of the writer's life. This story now tran.
scribe into more modern style.
Hell be fit for nothing, . said my father;
San awkward BOBBY. who holds his awI
and cuts his food with his left hand.''
So said my father, and so, alas felt
was awkward. | was fifteen thick set,
strong but terrible clumsy. l could OF
make collar, nor sew pair Of blinkers,
nor stuff saddle, nor do anything ought
to be able to do My fingers seemed to
have no mechanical feeling in them.
WIS awkward, and knew it, and all knew
it.
was good tempered could write fairly
and read anythingi but | was awkward
with my Iimbs; they seemed to have wills
of their own; and yet could dance as east
~ly and lightly as any of my neighbors'
sons.
81 don't know what he's fit for" said my
rather to the rector of the parish. 'I'ver
Get him to carpentering, and he cut his I'm
gers nearly Off with an axe; then he went
to the smith, and burnt his hands till he
was laid up for a month. It's all of no use;
he spoils me more good leather in week
than his earnings pay for in month. Why
cannot he, like other Christians use his
A, IL e
TThere Look at him now cutting that
back strap for the squire with his left
lhand,'
heard him the knife slipped, and the
long strip of leather was divided in a mo-
Eaent aud utterly spoiled.
a ''There now look at that A piece out
II tine very middle of the skin, and his fin
oe,, cut in the bargain"
Se1'he rector endeavered to soothe my fla
Ger s anger, while | bandaged my finger.
YOU'D better let him come up for that
vase, Mr. Walters should like case to
fit it, for it's very fragile, as all that old
Italian glass is and line it with the softest
leather, please.
And so went with the rector TO bring
back the vase, taking two channels feathers
to briug it in.
We reached the house, and l waited in
the passage while he went to fetch it. He
came back with large vase, tenderly
wrapped in the feathers. Alas! at that
moment there came from the room, against
the door 81 which | was standing, the sound
of voice singing. A voice that thrilled
me through--a voice | hear now as | write
these Iines-so clear, so sweet, 80 pure, it
was as if an angel had revealed itself to
me.
| trembled, and forgot the precious bur
den in my hands; it dropped to the ground
and was shattered to pieces. -sslsss
How shall | describe the rectors rage ?
fear he said something for which he would
have bIushed in his calmer moments and
she came out.
She who had the angel voice-his niece
came out and | saw her. forgot the dis
aster, and stood speechlessly gazing at her
face.
''You awkward scoundrel look at your
work. Thirty pounds Fifty pounds An
invaluable treasure gone irIeparably in q
moment. Why don't you speak Why
did you drop it?"
drop it" | said waking up drop
what2' And then it flashed upon me
again, and stammered out, ''She sang"
'And if she did sing, was there any oc-
casion to drop my beautiful vase, you doub-
ly stupid blockhead? There, go out Of the
house, do, before you do any further mis-
chief, and tell your father to horsewhip you
for stupid dolt."
| said nothing, did nothing, but only
looked at her face, and went shambhng
away, much changed and altered being.
There was a world where horse collars anC
horse shoes, lemons and mortices, right
hands or left, entered not. That world
had seen; had breathed its air and heard
its voice
My father heard of my misfortune ant
laid the strap across my shoulders withou
hesitation, for in my young days boys wert
boys till eighteen or nineteen years old.
bore it patiently, uncomplainingly.
''What is he fit for ?" every one woul(
ask, and no one could answer, not ever
myself.
wandered about the rectory in the sum
mer evenings and heard her sing; tIiet
hard to get the gardener to let me hell
him carry the watering pots, and when
succeeded, felt, as | entered the rector's gar
den, that was entering a paradise. Oh
happy monthsl when. after the horribl
labors of the weary day, l used to follow
the old gardener, and hear her sing NJ,
old withered heart beats fuller and free
when the memory comes back to me now
Alas, alas my awkwardness again bar
ished me- She met me one evening In tn
garden as was coming along the pat
with my cans full of water, and spoke
me and said: t
''You re the boy that broke the vase, a
emit your"
did not, could not reply; my strengt
forsook me- dropped my cans on th
ground, where they upset and flooded ava
in a moment some seeds on which the re-
tor set .nost especial store.