Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1866-07-28

A SUNDAY A CENTURY AGO.
From Once = Week ]


the leaves yellow, the writing scarcely
leglble from time and decay; evidently
an old neglected MS. TO the fire oil
my private shelf? Which?
These were my reflections as looked
over the papers of my late uncle. the
rector of a SOmersetshire village
1 liked the look of the book and de-
cided for the shelf: and / had my re-
ward, for found IN the grabbed char
acters a simple story, evidently written
toward tine close of the writer's life.
This story now trRnscribe into a more
modern style.
"He'H be fit for nothing" said my
father; IAN awkward BOBBY who holds
his awl and cuts his food with his left
hand"
So said my fathe- and so, alas! felt.
L was awkward. I was fifteen; thicl.
set, strong, but terribly clumsy. ]
could not make collar. nor sew a pain
OF blnkers, nor stuff a saddle. nor do
anything that 1 ought to be able to do.
My fingers seemed to have mechanical
feeling In them. i was awkward. and
knew it, and all knew it.
l WAS good tempered; could write
fairly, and read anything; but L was
awkward with my limbs; they seemed
to have wills of their own; and vet |
could dance as easily and Il ,htly as any
of my neighbOrs' sons.
81 don't know what he's fit for" said
my father to the rector of the parish
i've set him to carpentering, and he
cut his finger nearly OF with an ax; then
he went 10 the smith, and burnt his
hands till he was laid up for a month.
Its all OF no use; he spOils me more
good leather In a week than his earnings
would pay Tor IN a month. Why can
not he, like other Christians, use his
hands as the good God meant HIM TOT
Therel Look at him now, cutting that
back strap for the squire with his left
hand"
L heard him; the knife slipped, and
the long strip of leather WAS divided IN
amOmCnt aud utterly spoiled
There now look at that. 4 piece
out Of the very middle of the SKIN, and
ms finger cut IN the bargain.
The rector endeavOred to soOthe my
fathers anger, while bandaged up my
finger.
You had better let him come up toI
that vase, Mr.. Walters; L should like a
case to lit it. for it is very fragile, AS al
that old Italian glass is; and line it with
the sOftest leather, please"
And SD L went with the rector to
bring back the vase. taking two cha
mOis feathers to bring IL in.
We reached the hOnse, and-I waited
In the passage while he went to fetcl
il. He came back with a large vase
tendeTly wrapped IN the feathers. Alas
at that moment there came from tho
room. against the door of which wa.
standing, the sound of voice singing
A voice that thrilled me through
voice L hear now as / write these lines
so clear, SO sweet, SO pure, it was as il
an angel had revealed itself to me.
L trembled and forgot the preciou.
burden In my hands; it dropped to TIA,
ground and was shattered to pieces.
How shall describe the rector S rage
1 fear he said something for which b,
would have blushed in his calmer mo
ments, and she came out.
She who had the angel-vOice-hi
neice-came out, and saw her. 1 for
got the disaster. and stood speechlessly
gazing at her face.
You awkward scOnndrel look a
your work. Thirty pounds! Fiftl
pOundsl An invaluable treasure gon,
lrTeparibly in a moment. Why don
yOu speak Why did you drOpit?
drop 1t, " 1 said, waking mp. '.DroI
what ?" Aud then it flashed upOn IN,
again, and 4 stanmered out, ''she sang.
''And If she did sing, was there an,
Occi sion To drop my beautiful vase, yOl
doubly stupid blOckhead? There, G,
out of the hOnse, do, before you do au!
further mischief. and tell yOur father Il
hOrsewhip you for a stupid dOlt."
said nothing, did nothing, but onl,
looked at her face, and went sbamblinl
away, a much changed and altered be
ing. There was world where horse
collars aud hOrse-shOes, lemons an,
mortices, right hands or left, entere,
not. That world L had seen; 1 ha,
breathed its AR, and L had heard 1t
voices.
My father heard of my misfortune
and Laid the strap across my shoulder
without hesitation, for in my youn
days boys were boys till eighteen o
nineteen years old. bore 1t patientl
uneOmplainingly
'.What Is he hit fOr?" every one woul
ask, and no one could answer, not eve
myself.
/ wandered about the rectOry In Ia
summer evenings and heard her sing
I tried hard to get the old gardener
let me help him carry the watering pots
and when succeeded, felt, as 1 entere
the rectOr's garden, that was enterini
a paradise. Obi happy months, whel
after the horrible labors of the wear
day,I used To follow the old gardener
and hear her sing. My old witheret
heart beats fuller and fTeer when tn
memory comes back 70 me now.
Alas, alas! nv awkwardness agai
banished me. She met me one evening
in the garden, as was coming alou
the path with my cans full of water, sh
said:
You're the boy that broke the vase
aren't yOu?"
1 did not, could not, reply; m
strength failed me. 4 dropped my can
on the ground. where they upset, ant
flooded away In a moment, some seed
on which the rector set most especia
value.
''How awkward, to be surer' she ex
claimed. ''And how very angry m
uncle will be. P"