Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1866-07-28
CHOICE NIsCELLRNY.
AsUNDAY i CENTURY AGO.


An old brown lea,ber. coveted book, the
writing scarcely legiblo, from time and de
cay; evidently an old neglected MS To
lhe fire or to my private shelf? WbchH
Tbese were my reflections as l looked
over Fhe papers Of my late upcle, the rector
Of Somersetshire village.
| liked the look of the book and decided
for the shelf; and had my reward, for
found in the grabbed characters a simple
story, evidently written near the close of
the writer's life. This story now trana.
cribe into modern style.
Hen be cit for nothing, said my father;
an awkward BOBBY who holds hs awl and
cuts bis food with his left hand.
So said my father, and SO alas! felt
Wes awkward, l was fifteen; thick set,
strong, but terrible clumsy. could no.
make collar, nor seH pair of blinkers,
nor stuff saddle. nor do anything that
ought to be able TO do. My fingers seemed
to have no mechanical feeling in them :
| was awkward and knew it, and all know
it.
was good tempered; could write fairly
and read anything; bnt was awkward with
my limbs; they seemed to have Wills of their
own; and yet could dance as easily and
lightly as any of my neighbours sons. ..
don't know what he's fit for, said my
father to the rector of the parish. I've set
him to carpeniering, and he cut bis fingers
nearly off with an axe; then he went 10 the
smith, and burnt his hands till he was laid
up for month. It's all of DO use, he spoils
more good leather in a week han bis earn,
ings pay for in month. Why can not be,
like other Christians, use bis hands as the
good God meant him 10? Therel Look at
him now, cutting hat back strap for the
squire with his left hand. -.,, VI ..
I heard him; the knife slipped, and the
long strip of leather was divided iu a mo.
ment and utterly spoiled.
There now look at that. A piece ont Of
the very middle Of The skin, and bis fingers
gashed into the bargain. --t.-sesa--
The rector endeavored to soothe my ia.
theirs anger. while baudsged my fnger
You'd better let him come for that vase,
Mr. Walters; l should like case to fit il,
for it is very fragile, as all that old italian
glass is; and line it with the sofiest leather,
please. -,t -
Aud so I went with the rector to bring
back the vase, tender!y wrapped in the
feathers. Alas! At that moment shere
came from the room, against the door Of
which / was standing, the sound Of voice
singing. A voice that thrilled me through,
a voice l hear now as write these lines
SO clear, 80 pure, it was as II an angel had
revealed itself to me.
i trembed, and forgot the precious bur
den in my hands; it dropped 10 the ground
and was shattered TO pieces.
How shall describe the rector's ragel
/ fear be SAID something for which he would
hare blusbed in his calmer moments, and
she came out.
She who had The angel-voice--hs niece,
came ont and saw her. ! forgot the dis
aster. and stood speechessly gazing at her
face.
You awkward scoundrell look at your
work. thirty pouuds-fifty pounds. An
Invaluable trsasure gone irrepsrable 10 mo-
mont. Why don't you speakg Why did
you drop itS
Drop 1t, / said. waking up. Drop whati
And then it flashed upon me again, and l
stammered out. she sapgi
And II she did sing. was there any occs-.
sion to drop my beautiful vase, you double
stupid blockheadf there, 60 out OF the house
do. before you do any further mischief and
tell your father to horsewhip you for stu
pid dolt. .. ......--
My father heard of my misfortune. and
laid tho strap across my shoulders without
hesitation, for in my yonug days boys we're
boys till eighteen or uineteeu. years old -
1 bore It patiently, uncompl laiuingly,
What is hS fit ior2 every one would ask,
and no one would answer, Aot even myself.
| wandered about the reetory In the sum
mer evenings and heard her Stag; l tried
hard 80 get lhe old gardener TO lot me help
him carry the Watering pots. and whoo
succeeded, felt, as l eutersd The rsctors
garden that I vas entering paradise 49,
o happy moaihs, gben, after She horrible